note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) occult chemistry clairvoyant observations on the chemical elements by annie besant, p.t.s. and charles w. leadbeater revised edition edited by a. p. sinnett london theosophical publishing house , upper woburn place, w.c. . editor's preface. when undertaking to prepare a new edition of this book i received permission from the authors to "throw it into the form in which you think it would be most useful at the present time." it was left to my discretion, "what to use and what to omit." i have not found it necessary to avail myself to any considerable extent of this latter permission. but as the contents of the book were originally arranged the reader was ill-prepared to appreciate the importance of the later research for want of introductory matter explaining how it began, and how the early research led up to the later investigation. i have therefore contributed an entirely new preliminary chapter which will, i hope, help the reader to realise the credibility of the results attained when the molecular forms and constitution of the numerous bodies examined were definitely observed. i have not attempted to revise the records of the later research in which i had no personal share, so from the beginning of chapter iii to the end the book in its present form is simply a reprint of the original edition except for the correction of a few trifling misprints. i have thus endeavoured to bring into clear prominence at the outset the scientific value of the light the book sheds on the constitution of matter. the world owes a debt to scientific men of the ordinary type that cannot be over-estimated, but though they have hitherto preferred to progress gradually, from point to point, disliking leaps in the dark, the leap now made is only in the dark for those who will not realise that the progress to be accomplished by means of instrumental research must sooner or later be supplemented by subtler methods. physical science has reached the conception that the atoms of the bodies hitherto called the chemical elements are each composed of minor atoms. instrumental research cannot determine by how many, in each case. occult research ascertained the actual number in some cases by direct observation and then discovered the law governing the numbers in all cases, and the relation of these numbers to atomic weights. the law thus unveiled is a demonstration of the accuracy of the first direct observations, and this principle once established the credibility of accounts now given as to the arrangement of minor atoms in the molecules of the numerous elements examined, seems to me advanced to a degree approximating to proof. it remains to be seen--not how far, but rather how soon the scientific world at large will accept the conclusions of this volume as a definite contribution to science, blending the science of the laboratory with that variety that has hitherto been called occult. contents. i.--a preliminary survey ii.--details of the early research the platonic solids iii.--the later researches occult chemistry. chapter i. a preliminary survey. the deep interest and importance of the research which this book describes will best be appreciated if introduced by an account of the circumstances out of which it arose. the first edition, consisting mainly of articles reprinted from the _theosophist_, dealt at once with the later phases of the research in a way which, though intelligible to the occult student, must have been rather bewildering to the ordinary reader. these later phases, however, endow the earlier results with a significance that in the beginning could only be vaguely conjectured. i am the better entitled to perform the task that has been assigned to me--that of preparing the present edition--by reason of the fact that it was in my presence and at my instigation that the first efforts were made to penetrate the mystery previously enshrouding the ultimate molecule of matter. i remember the occasion vividly. mr. leadbeater was then staying at my house, and his clairvoyant faculties were frequently exercised for the benefit of myself, my wife and the theosophical friends around us. i had discovered that these faculties, exercised in the appropriate direction, were ultra-microscopic in their power. it occurred to me once to ask mr. leadbeater if he thought he could actually _see_ a molecule of physical matter. he was quite willing to try, and i suggested a molecule of gold as one which he might try to observe. he made the appropriate effort, and emerged from it saying the molecule in question was far too elaborate a structure to be described. it evidently consisted of an enormous number of some smaller atoms, quite too many to count; quite too complicated in their arrangement to be comprehended. it struck me at once that this might be due to the fact that gold was a heavy metal of high atomic weight, and that observation might be more successful if directed to a body of low atomic weight, so i suggested an atom of hydrogen as possibly more manageable. mr. leadbeater accepted the suggestion and tried again. this time he found the atom of hydrogen to be far simpler than the other, so that the minor atoms constituting the hydrogen atom were countable. they were arranged on a definite plan, which will be rendered intelligible by diagrams later on, and were eighteen in number. we little realized at the moment the enormous significance of this discovery, made in the year , long before the discovery of radium enabled physicists of the ordinary type to improve their acquaintance with the "electron." whatever name is given to that minute body it is recognised now by ordinary science as well as by occult observation, as the fundamental unit of physical matter. to that extent ordinary science has overtaken the occult research i am dealing with, but that research rapidly carried the occult student into regions of knowledge whither, it is perfectly certain, the ordinary physicist must follow him at no distant date. the research once started in the way i have described was seen to be intensely interesting. mrs. besant almost immediately co-operated with mr. leadbeater in its further progress. encouraged by the success with hydrogen, the two important gases, oxygen and nitrogen, were examined. they proved to be rather more difficult to deal with than hydrogen but were manageable. oxygen was found to consist of minor atoms and nitrogen of . their grouping will be described later on. the interest and importance of the whole subject will best be appreciated by a rough indication of the results first attained. the reader will then have more patience in following the intricacies of the later discoveries. the figures just quoted were soon perceived to have a possible significance. the atomic weight of oxygen is commonly taken as . that is to say, an atom of oxygen is sixteen times heavier than an atom of hydrogen. in this way, all through the table of atomic weights, hydrogen is taken as unity, without any attempt being made to estimate its absolute weight. but now with the atom of hydrogen dissected, so to speak, and found to consist of somethings, while the atom of oxygen consisted of of the same things, the sixteen to one relationship reappears: divided by gives us and a minute decimal fraction. again the nitrogen number divided by gives us and a minute fraction as the result, and that is the accepted atomic weight of nitrogen. this gave us a glimpse of a principle that might run all through the table of atomic weights. for reasons having to do with other work, it was impossible for the authors of this book to carry on the research further at the time it was begun. the results already sketched were published as an article in the magazine then called _lucifer_, in november, , and reprinted as a separate pamphlet bearing the title "occult chemistry," a pamphlet the surviving copies of which will one day be a recognised vindication of the method that will at some time in the future be generally applied to the investigation of nature's mysteries. for the later research which this volume deals with does establish the principle with a force that can hardly be resisted by any fair-minded reader. with patience and industry--the authors being assisted in the counting in a way that will be described (and the method adopted involved a check upon the accuracy of the counting)--the minor atoms of almost all the known chemical elements, as they are commonly called, were counted and found to bear the same relation to their atomic weights as had been suggested by the cases of oxygen and nitrogen. this result throws back complete proof on the original estimate of the number of minor atoms in hydrogen, a figure which ordinary research has so far entirely failed to determine. the guesses have been widely various, from unity to many hundreds, but, unacquainted with the clairvoyant method, the ordinary physicist has no means of reaching the actual state of the facts. before going on with the details of the later research some very important discoveries arising from the early work must first be explained. as i have already said clairvoyant faculty of the appropriate order directed to the minute phenomena of nature is practically infinite in its range. not content with estimating the number of minor atoms in physical molecules, the authors proceeded to examine the minor atoms individually. they were found to be themselves elaborately complicated structures which, in this preliminary survey of the whole subject, i will not stop to explain (full explanation will be found later on) and they are composed of atoms belonging to an ultra-physical realm of nature with which the occultist has long been familiar and describes as "the astral plane." some rather pedantic critics have found fault with the term, as the "plane" in question is of course really a sphere entirely surrounding the physical globe, but as all occultists understand the word, "plane" simply signifies a condition of nature. each condition, and there are many more than the two under consideration, blends with its neighbour, _via_ atomic structure. thus the atoms of the astral plane in combination give rise to the finest variety of physical matter, the ether of space, which is not homogeneous but really atomic in its character, and the minute atoms of which physical molecules are composed are atoms of ether, "etheric atoms," as we have now learned to call them. many physicists, though not all, will resent the idea of treating the ether of space as atomic. but at all events the occultist has the satisfaction of knowing that the great russian chemist, mendeleef, preferred the atomic theory. in sir william tilden's recent book entitled "chemical discovery and invention in the twentieth century," i read that mendeleef, "disregarding conventional views," supposed the ether to have a molecular or atomic structure, and in time all physicists must come to recognise that the electron is not, as so many suppose at present, an atom of electricity, but an atom of ether carrying a definite unit charge of electricity. long before the discovery of radium led to the recognition of the electron as the common constituent of all the bodies previously described as chemical elements, the minute particles of matter in question had been identified with the cathode rays observed in sir william crookes' vacuum tubes. when an electric current is passed through a tube from which the air (or other gas it may contain) has been almost entirely exhausted, a luminous glow pervades the tube manifestly emanating from the cathode or negative pole of the circuit. this effect was studied by sir william crookes very profoundly. among other characteristics it was found that, if a minute windmill was set up in the tube before it was exhausted, the cathode ray caused the vanes to revolve, thus suggesting the idea that they consisted of actual particles driven against the vanes; the ray being thus evidently something more than a mere luminous effect. here was a mechanical energy to be explained, and at the first glance it seemed difficult to reconcile the facts observed with the idea creeping into favour, that the particles, already invested with the name "electron," were atoms of electricity pure and simple. electricity was found, or certain eminent physicists thought they had found, that electricity _per se_ had inertia. so the windmills in the crookes' vacuum tubes were supposed to be moved by the impact of electric atoms. then in the progress of ordinary research the discovery of radium by madame curie in the year put an entirely new face upon the subject of electrons. the beta particles emanating from radium were soon identified with the electrons of the cathode ray. then followed the discovery that the gas helium, previously treated as a separate element, evolved itself as one consequence of the disintegration of radium. transmutation, till then laughed at as a superstition of the alchemist, passed quietly into the region of accepted natural phenomena, and the chemical elements were seen to be bodies built up of electrons in varying number and probably in varying arrangements. so at last ordinary science had reached one important result of the occult research carried on seven years earlier. it has not yet reached the finer results of the occult research--the _structure_ of the hydrogen atom with its eighteen etheric atoms and the way in which the atomic weights of all elements are explained by the number of etheric atoms entering into their constitution. the ether of space, though defying instrumental examination, comes within scope of the clairvoyant faculty, and profoundly interesting discoveries were made during what i have called the early research in connexion with that branch of the inquiry. etheric atoms combine to form molecules in many different ways, but combinations involving fewer atoms than the eighteen which give rise to hydrogen, make no impression on the physical senses nor on physical instruments of research. they give rise to varieties of molecular ether, the comprehension of which begins to illuminate realms of natural mystery as yet entirely untrodden by the ordinary physicist. combinations below in number give rise to three varieties of molecular ether, the functions of which when they come to be more fully studied will constitute a department of natural knowledge on the threshold of which we already stand. some day we may perhaps be presented with a volume on occult physics as important in its way as the present dissertation on occult chemistry. * * * * * chapter ii. details of the early research. the article detailing the results of the research carried on in the year (see the november issue for that year of the magazine then called _lucifer_), began with some general remarks about the clairvoyant faculty, already discussed in the preceding chapter. the original record then goes on as follows:-- the physical world is regarded as being composed of between sixty and seventy chemical elements, aggregated into an infinite variety of combinations. these combinations fall under the three main heads of solids, liquids and gases, the recognised substates of physical matter, with the theoretical ether scarcely admitted as material. ether, to the scientist, is not a substate or even a state of matter, but is a something apart by itself. it would not be allowed that gold could be raised to the etheric condition as it might be to the liquid and gaseous; whereas the occultist knows that the gaseous is succeeded by the etheric, as the solid is succeeded by the liquid, and he knows also that the word "ether" covers four substates as distinct from each other as are the solids, liquids and gases, and that all chemical elements have their four etheric substates, the highest being common to all, and consisting of the ultimate physical atoms to which all elements are finally reducible. the chemical atom is regarded as the ultimate particle of any element, and is supposed to be indivisible and unable to exist in a free state. mr. crookes' researches have led the more advanced chemists to regard the atoms as compound, as a more or less complex aggregation of protyle. to astral vision ether is a visible thing, and is seen permeating all substances and encircling every particle. a "solid" body is a body composed of a vast number of particles suspended in ether, each vibrating backwards and forwards in a particular field at a high rate of velocity; the particles are attracted towards each other more strongly than they are attracted by external influences, and they "cohere," or maintain towards each other a definite relation in space. closer examination shows that the ether is not homogeneous but consists of particles of numerous kinds, differing in the aggregations of the minute bodies composing them; and a careful and more detailed method of analysis reveals that it has four distinct degrees, giving us, with the solid, liquid and gaseous, seven instead of four substates of matter in the physical world. these four etheric substates will be best understood if the method be explained by which they were studied. this method consisted of taking what is called an atom of gas, and breaking it up time after time, until what proved to be the ultimate physical atom was reached, the breaking up of this last resulting in the production of astral, and no longer physical matter. [illustration] it is, of course, impossible to convey by words the clear conceptions that are gained by direct vision of the objects of study, and the accompanying diagram--cleverly drawn from the description given by the investigators--is offered as a substitute, however poor, for the lacking vision of the readers. the horizontal lines separate from each other the seven substates of matter; solid, liquid, gas, ether , ether , ether , ether . on the gas level are represented three chemical atoms, one of hydrogen (h), one of oxygen (o), one of nitrogen (n). the successive changes undergone by each chemical atom are shown in the compartments vertically above it, the left-hand column showing the breaking up of the hydrogen atom, the middle column that of the oxygen atom, the right-hand column, that of the nitrogen atom. the ultimate physical atom is marked _a_, and is drawn only once, although it is the same throughout. the numbers , and are the numbers of the ultimate physical atoms found to exist in a chemical atom. the dots indicate the lines along which force is observed to be playing, and the arrowheads show the direction of the force. no attempt has been made to show this below e except in the case of the hydrogen. the letters given are intended to help the reader to trace upwards any special body; thus _d_ in the oxygen chemical atom on the gas level may be found again on e , e , and e . it must be remembered that the bodies shown diagrammatically in no way indicate relative size; as a body is raised from one substate to the one immediately above it, it is enormously magnified for the purpose of investigation, and the ultimate atom on e is represented by the dot _a_ on the gaseous level. the first chemical atom selected for this examination was an atom of hydrogen (h). on looking carefully at it, it was seen to consist of six small bodies, contained in an egg-like form. it rotated with great rapidity on its own axis, vibrating at the same time, and the internal bodies performed similar gyrations. the whole atom spins and quivers, and has to be steadied before exact observation is possible. the six little bodies are arranged in two sets of three, forming two triangles that are not interchangeable, but are related to each other as object and image. (the lines in the diagram of it on the gaseous sub-plane are not lines of force, but show the two triangles; on a plane surface the interpenetration of the triangles cannot be clearly indicated.) further, the six bodies are not all alike; they each contain three smaller bodies--each of these being an ultimate physical atom--but in two of them the three atoms are arranged in a line, while in the remaining four they are arranged in a triangle. the wall of the limiting spheroid in which the bodies are enclosed being composed of the matter of the third, or gaseous, kind, drops away when the gaseous atom is raised to the next level, and the six bodies are set free. they at once re-arrange themselves in two triangles, each enclosed by a limiting sphere; the two marked _b_ in the diagram unite with one of those marked _b'_ to form a body which shows a positive character, the remaining three forming a second body negative in type. these form the hydrogen particles of the lowest plane of ether, marked e --ether --on the diagram. on raising these further, they undergo another disintegration, losing their limiting walls; the positive body of e , on losing its wall, becomes two bodies, one consisting of the two particles, marked _b_, distinguishable by the linear arrangement of the contained ultimate atoms, enclosed in a wall, and the other being the third body enclosed in e and now set free. the negative body of e similarly, on losing its wall, becomes two bodies, one consisting of the two particles marked _b'_, and the second the remaining body, being set free. these free bodies do not remain on e but pass immediately to e , leaving the positive and negative bodies, each containing two particles, as the representatives of hydrogen on e . on taking these bodies a step higher their wall disappears, and the internal bodies are set free, those containing the atoms arranged lineally being positive, and those with the triangular arrangement being negative. these two forms represent hydrogen on e , but similar bodies of this state of matter are found entering into other combinations, as may be seen by referring to _f_ on e of nitrogen (n). on raising these bodies yet one step further, the falling away of the walls sets the contained atoms free, and we reach the ultimate physical atom, the matter of e . the disintegration of this sets free particles of astral matter, so that we have reached in this the limit of physical matter. the theosophical reader will notice with interest that we can thus observe seven distinct substates of physical matter, and no more. the ultimate atom, which is the same in all the observed cases, is an exceedingly complex body, and only its main characteristics are given in the diagram. it is composed entirely of spirals, the spiral being in its turn composed of spirillæ, and these again of minuter spirillæ. a fairly accurate drawing is given in babbitt's "principles of light and colour," p. . the illustrations there given of atomic combinations are entirely wrong and misleading, but if the stove-pipe run through the centre of the single atom be removed, the picture may be taken as correct, and will give some idea of the complexity of this fundamental unit of the physical universe. turning to the force side of the atom and its combinations, we observe that force pours in the heart-shaped depression at the top of the atom, and issues from the point, and is changed in character by its passage; further, force rushes through every spiral and every spirilla, and the changing shades of colour that flash out from the rapidly revolving and vibrating atom depend on the several activities of the spirals; sometimes one, sometimes another, is thrown into more energetic action, and with the change of activity from one spiral to another the colour changes. the building of a gaseous atom of hydrogen may be traced downward from e , and, as stated above, the lines given in the diagram are intended to indicate the play of the forces which bring about the several combinations. speaking generally, positive bodies are marked by their contained atoms setting their points towards each other and the centre of their combination, and repelling each other outwards; negative bodies are marked by the heart-shaped depressions being turned inwards, and by a tendency to move towards each other instead of away. every combination begins by a welling up of force at a centre, which is to form the centre of the combination; in the first positive hydrogen combination, e , an atom revolving at right angles to the plane of the paper and also revolving on its own axis, forms the centre, and force, rushing out at its lower point, rushes in at the depressions of two other atoms, which then set themselves with their points to the centre; the lines are shown in +b, right-hand figure. (the left-hand figure indicates the revolution of the atoms each by itself.) as this atomic triad whirls round, it clears itself a space, pressing back the undifferentiated matter of the plane, and making to itself a whirling wall of this matter, thus taking the first step towards building up the chemical hydrogen atom. a negative atomic triad is similarly formed, the three atoms being symmetrically arranged round the centre of out-welling force. these atomic triads then combine, two of the linear arrangement being attracted to each other, and two of the triangular, force again welling up and forming a centre and acting on the triads as on a single atom, and a limiting wall being again formed as the combination revolves round its centre. the next stage is produced by each of these combinations on e attracting to itself a third atomic triad of the triangular type from e , by the setting up of a new centre of up-welling force, following the lines traced in the combinations of e . two of these uniting, and their triangles interpenetrating, the chemical atom is formed, and we find it to contain in all eighteen ultimate physical atoms. the next substance investigated was oxygen, a far more complicated and puzzling body; the difficulties of observation were very much increased by the extraordinary activity shown by this element and the dazzling brilliancy of some of its constituents. the gaseous atom is an ovoid body, within which a spirally-coiled snake-like body revolves at a high velocity, five brilliant points of light shining on the coils. the snake appears to be a solid rounded body, but on raising the atom to e the snake splits lengthwise into two waved bodies, and it is seen that the appearance of solidity is due to the fact that these spin round a common axis in opposite directions, and so present a continuous surface, as a ring of fire can be made by whirling a lighted stick. the brilliant bodies seen in the atom are on the crests of the waves in the positive snake, and in the hollows in the negative one; the snake itself consists of small bead-like bodies, eleven of which interpose between the larger brilliant spots. on raising these bodies to e the snakes break up, each bright spot carrying with it six beads on one side and five on the other; these twist and writhe about still with the same extraordinary activity, reminding one of fire-flies stimulated to wild gyrations. it can been seen that the larger brilliant bodies each enclose seven ultimate atoms, while the beads each enclose two. (each bright spot with its eleven beads is enclosed in a wall, accidentally omitted in the diagram.) on the next stage, e , the fragments of the snakes break up into their constituent parts; the positive and negative bodies, marked _d_ and _d'_, showing a difference of arrangement of the atoms contained in them. these again finally disintegrate, setting free the ultimate physical atoms, identical with those obtained from hydrogen. the number of ultimate atoms contained in the gaseous atom of oxygen is , made up as follows:-- in each bead, of which there are : in each bright spot, of which there are ; x + = . when the observers had worked out this, they compared it with the number of ultimate atoms in hydrogen:-- / = . + the respective number of ultimate atoms contained in a chemical atom of these two bodies are thus seen to closely correspond with their accepted weight-numbers. it may be said in passing that a chemical atom of ozone appears as an oblate spheroid, with the contained spiral much compressed and widened in the centre; the spiral consists of three snakes, one positive and two negative, formed in a single revolving body. on raising the chemical atom to the next plane, the snake divides into three, each being enclosed in its own egg. the chemical atom of nitrogen was the third selected by the students for examination, as it seemed comparatively quiet in contrast with the ever-excited oxygen. it proved, however, to be the most complicated of all in its internal arrangements, and its quiet was therefore a little deceptive. most prominent was the balloon-shaped body in the middle, with six smaller bodies in two horizontal rows and one large egg-shaped one in the midst, contained in it. some chemical atoms were seen in which the internal arrangement of these contained bodies was changed and the two horizontal rows became vertical; this change seemed to be connected with a greater activity of the whole body, but the observations on this head are too incomplete to be reliable. the balloon-shaped body is positive, and is apparently drawn downwards towards the negative egg-shaped body below it, containing seven smaller particles. in addition to these large bodies, four small ones are seen, two positive and two negative, the positive containing five and the negative four minuter spots. on raising the gaseous atom to e , the falling away of the wall sets free the six contained bodies, and both the balloon and the egg round themselves, apparently with the removal of their propinquity, as though they had exercised over each other some attractive influence. the smaller bodies within the egg--marked _q_ on e --are not on one plane, and those within _n_ and _o_ form respectively square-based and triangular-based pyramids. on raising all these bodies to e we find the walls fall away as usual, and the contents of each "cell" are set free: _p_ of e contains six small bodies marked _k_, and these are shown in _k_ of e , as containing each seven little bodies--marked _e_--each of which has within it two ultimate atoms; the long form of _p_ e --marked _l_--appears as the long form _l_ on e , and this has three pairs of smaller bodies within it, _f'_, _g_ and _h_, containing respectively three, four and six ultimate atoms; _q_ of e , with its seven contained particles, _m_, has three particles _m_ on e , each showing three ultimate atoms within them; _e_ from _n_ of e becomes _i_ of e , with contained bodies, _e_, showing two ultimate atoms in each; while _e'_ from _o_ of e becomes _j_ of e , each having three smaller bodies within it, _e'_, with two ultimate atoms in each. on e , the arrangement of these ultimate atoms is shown, and the pairs, _f'_, _g_ and _h_ are seen with the lines of force indicated; the triads in _f_--from _m_ of e --are similarly shown, and the duads in _e_ and _e'_--from _i_ and _j_ of e --are given in the same way. when all these bodies are raised to e , the ultimate physical atoms are set free, identical, of course, with that previously described. reckoning up the number of ultimate physical atoms in a chemical atom of nitrogen we find they amount to , thus divided:-- + bodies with ultimate atoms, x = - " " " " x = - " " " " x = + " " " " x = + " " " " x = + " " " " x = ---- this again approaches closely the weight-number assigned to nitrogen:-- / = . + this is interesting as checking the observations, for weight-numbers are arrived at in so very different a fashion, and especially in the case of nitrogen the approximation is noteworthy, from the complexity of the bodies which yield the number on analysis. some other observations were made which went to show that as weight-numbers increased, there was a corresponding increase in the number of bodies discerned within the chemical atom; thus, gold showed forty-seven contained bodies; but these observations need repetition and checking. investigation of a molecule of water revealed the presence of twelve bodies from hydrogen and the characteristic snake of oxygen, the encircling walls of the chemical atoms being broken away. but here again, further observations are necessary to substantiate details. the present paper is only offered as a suggestion of an inviting line of research, promising interesting results of a scientific character; the observations recorded have been repeated several times and are not the work of a single investigator, and they are believed to be correct so far as they go. the platonic solids. some of our readers may be glad to have a drawing of the platonic solids, since they play so large a part in the building up of elements. the regular solids are five, and five only; in each: ( ) the lines are equal. ( ) the angles are equal. ( ) the surfaces are equal. [illustration] it will be seen that the tetrahedron is the fundamental form, the three-sided pyramid on a triangular base, _i.e._, a solid figure formed from four triangles. two of these generate the cube and the octahedron; five of these generate the dodecahedron and the icosahedron. the rhombic dodecahedron is not regular, for though the lines and surfaces are equal, the angles are not. notes. mr. c. jinarâjadâsa[ ] writes: the asterisk put before metargon in the list of elements should be omitted, for metargon had been discovered by sir william ramsey and mr. travers at the same time as neon (see _proceedings of the royal society_, vol. lxiii, p. ), and therefore before it was observed clairvoyantly. it is not, however, given in the latest list of elements in the report of november , , of the international atomic weights commission, so it would seem as though it were not yet fully recognised. neon was discovered in by ramsey and travers, and the weight given to it was . this almost corresponds with our weight for meta-neon, . ; the latest weight given to neon is , and that corresponds within one-tenth to our weight, . . from this it would seem that neon was examined in the later investigations and meta-neon in the earlier. he says further on a probable _fourth_ interperiodic group: thinking over the diagrams, it seemed to me likely that a fourth group exists, coming on the paramagnetic side, directly under iron, cobalt, nickel, just one complete swing of the pendulum after rhodium, ruthenium, palladium. this would make four interperiodic groups, and they would come also _periodically_ in the table too. i took the diagram for osmium, and in a bar postulated only three columns for the first element of the new groups, _i.e._, one column less than in osmium. this would make atoms in a bar; the new group then would follow in a bar, , , . here i found to my surprise that the third postulated group would have a remarkable relation to os, ir, pt. thus os.-- (in a bar); less = ir. less = pt. less = but strange to say _also_ ruthenium (bar) less -- rhodium less -- palladium less -- but , , , are iron, cobalt and nickel. so there does probably exist a new group with bars ( ), , , , with atomic weights. x=bar ; atoms , wt. . y= , , wt. . z= , , wt. . . they come probably among the rare earths. probably also neodymium and praseodymium are two of them, for their weights are . , . . * * * * * chapter iii. the later researches. the first difficulty that faced us was the identification of the forms seen on focusing the sight on gases.[ ] we could only proceed tentatively. thus, a very common form in the air had a sort of dumb-bell shape (see plate i); we examined this, comparing our rough sketches, and counted its atoms; these, divided by --the number of ultimate atoms in hydrogen--gave us . as atomic weight, and this offered the presumption that it was sodium. we then took various substances--common salt, etc.--in which we knew sodium was present, and found the dumb-bell form in all. in other cases, we took small fragments of metals, as iron, tin, zinc, silver, gold; in others, again, pieces of ore, mineral waters, etc., etc., and, for the rarest substances, mr. leadbeater visited a mineralogical museum. in all, chemical elements were examined, out of the recognized by modern chemistry. in addition to these, we found chemical waifs: an unrecognized stranger between hydrogen and helium which we named occultum, for purposes of reference, and varieties of one element, which we named kalon and meta-kalon, between xenon and osmium; we also found varieties of recognized elements and prefixed meta to the name of each, and a second form of platinum, that we named pt. b. thus we have tabulated in all chemical elements, or chemical atoms, completing three of sir william crookes' lemniscates, sufficient for some amount of generalization. [illustration: plate i. sodium.] in counting the number of ultimate atoms in a chemical elemental atom, we did not count them throughout, one by one; when, for instance, we counted up the ultimate atoms in sodium, we dictated the number in each convenient group to mr. jinarâjadâsa, and he multiplied out the total, divided by , and announced the result. thus: sodium (_see_ plate i) is composed of an upper part, divisible into a globe and funnels; a lower part, similarly divided; and a connecting rod. we counted the number in the upper part: globe-- ; the number in two or three of the funnels--each ; the number of funnels-- ; the same for the lower part; in the connecting rod-- . mr. jinarâjadâsa reckoned: + ( x ) = ; hence: + + = : divided by = . recurring. by this method we guarded our counting from any prepossession, as it was impossible for us to know how the various numbers would result on addition, multiplication and division, and the exciting moment came when we waited to see if our results endorsed or approached any accepted weight. in the heavier elements, such as gold, with atoms, it would have been impossible to count each atom without quite unnecessary waste of time, when making a preliminary investigation. later, it may be worth while to count each division separately, as in some we noticed that two groups, at first sight alike, differed by or atoms, and some very slight errors may, in this way, have crept into our calculations. in the following table is a list of the chemical elements examined; the first column gives the names, the asterisk affixed to some indicating that they have not yet been discovered by orthodox chemistry. the second column gives the number of ultimate physical atoms contained in one chemical atom of the element concerned. the third column gives the weight as compared with hydrogen, taken as , and this is obtained by dividing the calculated number of ultimate atoms by . the fourth column gives the recognized weight-number, mostly according to the latest list of atomic weights, the "international list" of , given in erdmann's "lehrbuch der unorganischen chemie." these weights differ from those hitherto accepted, and are generally lighter than those given in earlier text-books. it is interesting to note that our counting endorses the earlier numbers, for the most part, and we must wait to see if later observations will endorse the last results of orthodox chemistry, or confirm ours. -------------------------------------------- hydrogen | | | *occultum | | | -- helium | | | . lithium | | . | . baryllium | | . | . boron | | . | . carbon | | | . nitrogen | | . | . oxygen | | . | . fluorine | | . | . neon | | | . *meta-neon | | . | -- sodium | | . | . magnesium | | | . aluminium | | | . silicon | | . | . phosphorus | | | . sulphur | | | . chlorine | | . | . potassium | | . | . argon | | . | . calcium | | | . *metargon | | | -- scandium | | | . titanium | | | . vanadium | | | . chromium | | | . manganese | | . | . iron | | | . cobalt | | . | . nickel | | .ll | . copper | | . | . zinc | | | . gallium | | | . germanium | | . | . arsenic | | | . selenium | | | . bromine | | . | . krypton | | . | . *meta-krypton | | . | -- rubidium | | | . strontium | | . | . yttrium | | . | . zirconium | | . | . niobium | | . | . molybdenum | | | . ruthenium | | . | . rhodium | | . | . palladium | | . | . silver | | . | . cadmium | | | . indium | | | . tin | | | . antimony | | . | . tellurium | | . | . iodine | | . | . xenon | | . | . *meta-xenon | | | -- *kalon | | . | -- *meta-kalon | | | -- osmium | | . | . iridium | | . | . platinum a | | . | . *platinum b | | . | -- gold | | | . -------------------------------------------- [illustration: plate ii. male (left) and female (right).] as the words "ultimate physical atom" must frequently occur, it is necessary to state what we mean by the phrase. any gaseous chemical atom may be dissociated into less complicated bodies; these, again, into still less complicated; these, again, into yet still less complicated. these will be dealt with presently. after the third dissociation but one more is possible; the fourth dissociation gives the ultimate physical atom.[ ] this may vanish from the physical plane, but it can undergo no further dissociation on it. in this ultimate state of physical matter two types of atoms have been observed; they are alike in everything save the direction of their whorls and of the force which pours through them. in the one case force pours in from the "outside," from fourth-dimensional space,[ ] and passing through the atom, pours into the physical world. in the second, it pours in from the physical world, and out through the atom into the "outside" again,[ ] _i.e._, vanishes from the physical world. the one is like a spring, from which water bubbles out; the other is like a hole, into which water disappears. we call the atoms from which force comes out _positive_ or _male_; those through which it disappears, _negative_ or _female_. all atoms, so far as observed, are of one or other of these two forms. (plate ii.) it will be seen that the atom is a sphere, slightly flattened, and there is a depression at the point where the force flows in, causing a heart-like form. each atom is surrounded by a field, formed of the atoms of the four higher planes, which surround and interpenetrate it. the atom can scarcely be said to be a "thing," though it is the material out of which all things physical are composed. it is formed by the flow of the life-force[ ] and vanishes with its ebb. when this force arises in "space"[ ]--the apparent void which must be filled with substance of some kind, of inconceivable tenuity--atoms appear; if this be artificially stopped for a single atom, the atom disappears; there is nothing left. presumably, were that flow checked but for an instant, the whole physical world would vanish, as a cloud melts away in the empyrean. it is only the persistence of that flow[ ] which maintains the physical basis of the universe.[ ] in order to examine the construction of the atom, a space is artificially made[ ]; then, if an opening be made in the wall thus constructed, the surrounding force flows in, and three whorls immediately appear, surrounding the "hole" with their triple spiral of two and a half coils, and returning to their origin by a spiral within the atom; these are at once followed by seven finer whorls, which following the spiral of the first three on the outer surface, and returning to their origin by a spiral within that, flowing in the opposite direction--form a caduceus with the first three. each of the three coarser whorls, flattened out, makes a closed circle; each of the seven finer ones, similarly flattened out, makes a closed circle. the forces which flow in them, again, come from "outside," from a fourth-dimensional space.[ ] each of the finer whorls is formed of seven yet finer ones, set successively at right angles to each other, each finer than its predecessor; these we call spirillæ.[ ] it will be understood from the foregoing, that the atom cannot be said to have a wall of its own, unless these whorls of force can be so designated; its "wall" is the pressed back "space." as said in , of the chemical atom, the force "clears itself a space, pressing back the undifferentiated matter of the plane, and making to itself a whirling wall of this matter." the wall belongs to space, not to the atom. in the three whorls flow currents of different electricities; the seven vibrate in response to etheric waves of all kinds--to sound, light, heat, etc.; they show the seven colours of the spectrum; give out the seven sounds of the natural scale; respond in a variety of ways to physical vibration--flashing, singing, pulsing bodies, they move incessantly, inconceivably beautiful and brilliant.[ ] the atom has--as observed so far--three proper motions, _i.e._, motions of its own, independent of any imposed upon it from outside. it turns incessantly upon its own axis, spinning like a top; it describes a small circle with its axis, as though the axis of the spinning top moved in a small circle; it has a regular pulsation, a contraction and expansion, like the pulsation of the heart. when a force is brought to bear upon it, it dances up and down, flings itself wildly from side to side, performs the most astonishing and rapid gyrations, but the three fundamental motions incessantly persist. if it be made to vibrate, as a whole, at the rate which gives any one of the seven colors, the whorl belonging to that color glows out brilliantly. [illustration] an electric current brought to bear upon the atoms checks their proper motions, _i.e._, renders them slower; the atoms exposed to it arrange themselves in parallel lines, and in each line the heart-shaped depression receives the flow, which passes out through the apex into the depression of the next, and so on. the atoms always set themselves to the current. the well-known division of diamagnetic and paramagnetic depends generally on this fact, or on an analogous action on molecules, as may be seen in the accompanying diagrams.[ ] two atoms, positive and negative, brought near to each other, attract each other, and then commence to revolve round each other, forming a relatively stable duality; such a molecule is neutral. combinations of three or more atoms are positive, negative or neutral, according to the internal molecular arrangement; the neutral are relatively stable, the positive and negative are continually in search of their respective opposites, with a view to establishing a relatively permanent union. three states of matter exist between the atomic state and the gaseous--the state in which the chemical atoms are found, the recognized chemical elements; for our purposes we may ignore the liquid and solid states. for the sake of clearness and brevity in description, we have been obliged to name these states; we call the atomic state of the chemist _elemental_; the state which results from breaking up chemical elements, _proto-elemental_; the next higher, _meta-proto-elemental_; the next higher, _hyper-meta-proto-elemental_; then comes the atomic state. these are briefly marked as el., proto., meta., and hyper.[ ] the simplest unions of atoms, never, apparently consisting of more than seven, form the first molecular state of physical matter. [illustration: types of hyper-meta-proto-elemental matter.] here are some characteristic combinations of the hyper state; the atom is conventional, with the depression emphasised; the lines, always entering at the depression and coming out at the apex, show the resultants of lines of force; where no line appears entering the depression, the force wells up from fourth-dimensional space; where no line appears leaving the apex, the force disappears into fourth-dimensional space; where the point of entry and departure is outside the atoms, it is indicated by a dot.[ ] the molecules show all kinds of possible combinations; the combinations spin, turn head over heels, and gyrate in endless ways. each aggregation is surrounded with an apparent cell-wall, the circle or oval, due to the pressure on the surrounding matter caused by its whirling motion; they strike on each other[ ] and rebound, dart hither and thither, for reasons we have not distinguished. [illustration: types of meta-proto-elemental matter.] the meta state, in some of its combinations, appears at first sight to repeat those of the hyper state; the only obvious way of distinguishing to which some of the molecules of less complexity belong is to pull them out of the "cell-wall"; if they are hyper molecules they at once fly off as separate atoms; if they are meta molecules they break up into two or more molecules containing a smaller number of atoms. thus one of the meta molecules of iron, containing seven atoms, is identical in appearance with a hyper heptad, but the latter dissociates into seven atoms, the former into two triads and a single atom. long-continued research into the detailed play of forces and their results is necessary; we are here only able to give preliminary facts and details--are opening up the way. the following may serve as characteristic meta types:-- these are taken from constituents of the various elements; from gl; and from fe; from bo; , and from c; from he; from fl; , , from li; and from na. others will be seen in the course of breaking up the elements. the proto state preserves many of the forms in the elements, modified by release from the pressure to which they are subjected in the chemical atom. in this state various groups are thus recognizable which are characteristic of allied metals. [illustration: types of proto-elemental matter.] these are taken from the products of the first disintegration of the chemical atom, by forcibly removing it from its hole. the groups fly apart, assuming a great variety of forms often more or less geometrical; the lines between the constituents of the groups, where indicated, no longer represent lines of force, but are intended to represent the impression of form, _i.e._, of the relative position and motion of the constituents, made on the mind of the observer. they are elusive, for there are no lines, but the appearance of lines is caused by the rapid motion of the costituents up and down, or along them backwards and forwards. the dots represent atoms, or groups of atoms, within the proto-elements. is found in c; and in he; in fl; in li; in n; in ru; in na; and in co; in fe; in se. we shall return to these when analysing the elements, and shall meet many other proto-elemental groupings. the first thing which is noticed by the observer, when he turns his attention to the chemical atoms, is that they show certain definite forms, and that within these forms, modified in various ways, sub-groupings are observable which recur in connexion with the same modified form. the main types are not very numerous, and we found that, when we arranged the atoms we had observed, according to their external forms, they fell into natural classes; when these, in turn, were compared with sir william crookes' classification, they proved to be singularly alike. here is his arrangement of the elements, as it appeared in the _proceedings of the royal society_, in a paper read on june th, . [illustration] this is to be read, following the lines of the "figures of eight": h, he, li, gl, b, c, n, and so on, each successive element being heavier than the one preceding it in order. the disks which fall immediately below each other form a class; thus: h, cl, br, i; these resemble each other in various ways, and, as we shall presently see, the same forms and groupings re-appear. another chart--taken from erdmann's _lehrbuch_--arranges the elements on a curved line, which curiously resembles the curves within the shell of a nautilus. the radiating lines show the classes, the whole diameter building up a family; it will be observed that there is an empty radius between hydrogen and helium, and we have placed occultum there; on the opposite radius, iron, rubidium and osmium are seen. [illustration] the external forms may be classified as follows; the internal details will be dealt with later :-- [illustration: plate iii.] . _the dumb-bell._--the characteristics of this are a higher and lower group, each showing projecting funnels, grouped round a central body, and a connecting rod. it appears in sodium, copper, silver, and gold,[ ] and gold is given ( on plate iii) as the most extremely modified example of this form. the almond-like projections, above and below, are severally contained in shadowy funnels, impossible to reproduce in the drawing; the central globe contains three globes, and the connecting portion has swollen out into an egg, with a very complicated central arrangement. the dumb-bell appears also in chlorine, bromine and iodine, but there is no trace of it in hydrogen, the head of the group. we have not met it elsewhere. it may be remarked that, in sir william crookes' scheme, in which they are all classed as monads, these two groups are the nearest to the neutral line, on the ingoing and outgoing series, and are respectively positive and negative. ii and iia. _the tetrahedron._--the characteristics of this form are four funnels, containing ovoid bodies, opening on the face of a tetrahedron. the funnels generally, but not always, radiate from a central globe. we give beryllium (glucinum) as the simplest example ( on plate iii), and to this group belong calcium and strontium. the tetrahedron is the form of chromium and molybdenum, but not that of the head of their group, oxygen, which is, like hydrogen, _sui generis_. these two groups are marked in orthodox chemistry as respectively positive and negative, and are closely allied. another pair of groups show the same tetrahedral form: magnesium, zinc and cadmium, positive; sulphur, selenium and tellurium, negative. selenium is a peculiarly beautiful element, with a star floating across the mouth of each funnel; this star is extremely sensitive to light, and its rays tremble violently and bend if a beam of light falls on it. all these are dyads. the tetrahedron is not confined to the external form of the above atoms; it seems to be one of the favourite forms of nature, and repeatedly appears in the internal arrangements. there is one tetrahedron within the unknown element occultum; two appear in helium ( on plate iii); yttrium has also two within its cube, as has germanium; five, intersecting, are found in neon, meta-neon, argon, metargon, krypton, meta-krypton, xenon, meta-xenon, kalon, meta-kalon, tin, titanium and zirconium. gold contains no less than twenty tetrahedra. iii. _the cube._--the cube appears to be the form of triads. it has six funnels, containing ovoids, and opening on the faces of the cube. boron is chosen as an example ( on plate iii). its group members, scandium and yttrium, have the same form; we have not examined the fourth; the group is positive. its negative complement consists of nitrogen, vanadium and niobium, and we have again to note that nitrogen, like hydrogen and oxygen, departs from its group type. two other triad groups, the positive aluminium, gallium and indium (the fourth unexamined) and the negative phosphorus, arsenic and antimony (the fourth unexamined), have also six funnels opening on the faces of a cube. iv. _the octahedron._--the simplest example of this is carbon ( on plate iii). we have again the funnel with its ovoids, but now there are eight funnels opening on the eight faces of the octahedron. in titanium ( on plate iii) the form is masked by the protruding arms, which give the appearance of the old rosicrucian cross and rose, but when we look into the details later, the carbon type comes out clearly. zirconium is exactly like titanium in form, but contains a large number of atoms. we did not examine the remaining two members of this group. the group is tetratomic and positive. its negative pendant shows the same form in silicon, germanium and tin; again, the fourth was unexamined. [illustration: plate iv.] v. _the bars._--these characterise a set of closely allied groups, termed "inter-periodic." fourteen bars (or seven crossed) radiate from a centre, as in iron ( on plate iv), and the members of each group--iron, nickel, cobalt; ruthenium, rhodium, palladium; osmium, iridium, platinum--differ from each other by the weight of each bar, increasing in orderly succession; the details will be given later. manganese is often grouped with iron, nickel, and cobalt (_see_ crookes' lemniscates), but its fourteen protruding bodies repeat the "lithium spike" (proto-element ) and are grouped round a central ovoid. this would appear to connect it with lithium ( on plate iv) rather than with fluorine ( in plate iv), with which it is often classed. the "lithium spike" re-appears in potassium and rubidium. these details, again, will come out more clearly later. vi. _the star._--a flat star, with five interpenetrating tetrahedra in the centre, is the characteristic of neon and its allies ( on plate iv) leaving apart helium, which, as may be seen by referring to , plate iv, has an entirely different form. there are thus six clearly defined forms, typical of classes, with two--lithium and fluorine--of doubtful affinities. it is worthy of notice that in diatomic elements _four_ funnels open on the faces of tetrahedra; in triatomic, _six_ funnels on the faces of cubes; in tetratomic, _eight_ funnels on the faces of octahedra. thus we have a regular sequence of the platonic solids, and the question suggests itself, will further evolution develop elements shaped to the dodecahedron and the icosahedron? * * * * * ii. we now pass from the consideration of the outer forms of the chemical elements to a study of their internal structure, the arrangement within the element of more or less complicated groups--proto-elements--capable of separate, independent existence; these, once more, may be dissociated into yet simpler groups--hyper-meta-proto-elements--equally capable of separate, independent existence, and resolvable into single ultimate physical atoms, the irreducible substratum of the physical world (see _theosophist_, , pp. - ).[ ] we shall have to study the general internal structure, and then the breaking up of each element, and the admirable diagrams, patiently worked out by mr. jinarâjadâsa, will make the study comparatively easy to carry on. the diagrams, of course, can only give a very general idea of the facts they represent; they give groupings and show relations, but much effort of the imagination is needed to transform the two-dimensional diagram into the three-dimensional object. the wise student will try to visualize the figure from the diagram. thus the two triangles of hydrogen are not in one plane; the circles are spheres, and the atoms within them, while preserving to each other their relative positions, are in swift movement in three-dimensional space. where five atoms are seen, as in bromine and iodine, they are generally arranged with the central atom above the four, and their motion indicates lines which erect four plane triangles--meeting at their apices--on a square base, forming a square-based four-sided pyramid. each dot represents a single ultimate atom. the enclosing lines indicate the impression of form made on the observer, and the groupings of the atoms; the groups will divide along these lines, when the element is broken up, so that the lines have significance, but they do not exist as stable walls or enclosing films, but rather mark limits, not lines, of vibrations. it should be noted that it is not possible to show five of the prisms in the five intersecting tetrahedra of prisms, and atoms must, therefore, be added in counting. the diagrams are not drawn to scale, as such drawing would be impossible; the dot representing the atom is enormously too large compared with the enclosures, which are absurdly too small; a scale drawing would mean an almost invisible dot on a sheet of many yards square. the use of the words "positive" and "negative" needs to be guarded by the following paragraphs from the article on "chemistry" in the _encyclopædia britannica_. we use the words in their ordinary text-book meaning, and have not, so far, detected any characteristics whereby an element can be declared, at sight, to be either positive or negative:-- "when binary compounds, or compounds of two elements, are decomposed by an electric current, the two elements make their appearance at opposite poles. these elements which are disengaged at the negative pole are termed electro-positive or positive or basylous elements, while those disengaged at the positive pole are termed electro-negative or negative or chlorous elements. but the difference between these two classes of elements is one of degree only, and they gradually merge into each other; moreover the electric relations of elements are not absolute, but vary according to the state of combination in which they exist, so that it is just as impossible to divide the elements into two classes according to this property as it is to separate them into two distinct classes of metals and non-metals." we follow here the grouping according to external forms, and the student should compare it with the groups marked in the lemniscate arrangement shown in article ii (p. , properly p. , february), reading the group by the disks that fall below each other; thus the first group is h, cl, br, i (hydrogen, chlorine, bromine, iodine) and a blank for an undiscovered element. the elements grow denser in descending order; thus hydrogen is an invisible gas; chlorine a denser gas visible by its colour; bromine is a liquid; iodine is a solid--all, of course, when temperature and pressure are normal. by the lowering of temperature and the increase of pressure, an element which is normally gaseous becomes a liquid, and then a solid. solid, liquid, gaseous, are three interchangeable states of matter, and an element does not alter its constitution by changing its state. so far as a chemical "atom" is concerned, it matters not whether it be drawn for investigation from a solid, a liquid, or a gas; but the internal arrangements of the "atoms" become much more complicated as they become denser and denser, as is seen by the complex arrangements necessitated by the presence of the ultimate atoms contained in the chemical "atom" of gold, as compared with the simple arrangement of the ultimate atoms of hydrogen. according to the lemniscate arrangement, we should commence with hydrogen as the head of the first negative group, but as it differs wholly from those placed with it, it is better to take it by itself. hydrogen is the lightest of the known elements, and is therefore taken as in ordinary chemistry, and all atomic weights are multiples of this. we take it as , because it contains eighteen ultimate atoms, the smallest number we have found in a chemical element. so our "number-weights" are obtained by dividing the total number of atoms in an element by (see p. , january). [illustration: plate v.] hydrogen (plate v, ).--hydrogen not only stands apart from its reputed group by not having the characteristic dumb-bell shape, well shown in sodium (plate i, opposite p. , january), but it also stands apart in being positive, serving as a base, not as a chlorous, or acid, radical, thus "playing the part of a metal," as in hydrogen chloride (hydrochloric acid), hydrogen sulphate (sulphuric acid), etc. it is most curious that hydrogen, oxygen and nitrogen, the most widely spread gases, all differ fundamentally in form from the groups they reputedly head.[ ] hydrogen was the first chemical element examined by us, nearly thirteen years ago, and i reproduce here the substance of what i wrote in november, , for we have nothing to add to nor amend in it. hydrogen consists of six small bodies, contained in an egg-like form (the outer forms are not given in the diagrams). the six little bodies are arranged in two sets of three, forming two triangles which are not interchangeable, but are related to each other as object and image. the six bodies are not all alike; they each contain three ultimate physical atoms, but in four of the bodies the three atoms are arranged in a triangle, and in the remaining two in a line. hydrogen: bodies of atomic weight number weight / i.--the dumb-bell group. i a.--this group consists of cl, br, and i (chlorine, bromine and iodine); they are monads, diamagnetic and negative. chlorine (plate v, ).--as already said, the general form is that of the dumb-bell, the lower and upper parts each consisting of twelve funnels, six sloping upwards and six downwards, the funnels radiating outwards from a central globe, and these two parts being united by a connecting rod (see, again, sodium, plate i). the funnel (shown flat as an isosceles triangle, standing on its apex) is a somewhat complicated structure, of the same type as that in sodium (plate vi, ), the difference consisting in the addition of one more globe, containing nine additional atoms. the central globe is the same as in sodium, but the connecting rod differs. we have here a regular arrangement of five globes, containing three, four, five, four, three atoms respectively, whereas sodium has only three bodies, containing four, six, four. but copper and silver, its congeners, have their connecting rods of exactly the same pattern as the chlorine rod, and the chlorine rod reappears in both bromine and iodine. these close similarities point to some real relation between these groups of elements, which are placed, in the lemniscates, equi-distant from the central line, though one is on the swing which is going towards that line and the other is on the swing away from it. chlorine: upper part { funnels of atoms {central globe lower part same connecting rod ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . (the atomic weights are mostly from erdmann, and the number weights are those ascertained by us by counting the atoms as described on p. , january, and dividing by . prof. t.w. richards, in _nature_, july , , gives . .) bromine (plate v, ).--in bromine, each funnel has three additional bodies, ovoid in shape, an addition of atoms being thus made without any disturbance of form; two pairs of atoms are added to the central globe, and a rearrangement of the atoms is effected by drawing together and lessening the swing of the pair of triplets, thus making symmetrical room for the newcomers. the connecting rod remains unchanged. the total number of atoms is thus raised from the of chlorine to . over and over again, in these investigations, were we reminded of tyndall's fascinating description of crystal building, and his fancy of the tiny, ingenious builders busied therein. truly are there such builders, and the ingenuity and effectiveness of their devices are delightful to see.[ ] bromine: upper part { funnels of atoms {central globe lower part same connecting rod ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . iodine (plate v, ).--we find herein that the central globe gains atoms, the two pairs becoming quartets; the connecting rod exactly reproduces the rods of chlorine and bromine; the funnel is also that of bromine, except that five bodies, containing atoms, are added to it. the atoms of bromine are thus raised to . iodine: upper part { funnels of atoms {central globe lower part same connecting rod ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . the plan underlying the building up of groups is here clearly shown; a figure is built up on a certain plan, in this case a dumb-bell; in the succeeding members of the group additional atoms are symmetrically introduced, modifying the appearance, but following the general idea; in this case the connecting rod remains unaltered, while the two ends become larger and larger, more and more overshadowing it, and causing it to become shorter and thicker. thus a group is gradually formed by additional symmetrical additions. in the undiscovered remaining member of the group we may suppose that the rod will have become still more egg-like, as in the case of gold. i b.--the corresponding positive group to that which we have been considering consists of na, cu, ag, and au (sodium, copper, silver and gold), with an empty disk between silver and gold, showing where an element ought to be. these four elements are monads, diamagnetic, and positive, and they show the dumb-bell arrangement, although it is much modified in gold; we may presume that the undiscovered element between silver and gold would form a link between them. [illustration: plate vi.] sodium (plate vi, ) has been already described (p. , january), as a type of the group, so we need only refer to its internal arrangement in order to note that it is the simplest of the dumb-bell group. its twelve funnels show only four enclosed bodies, the same as we see in chlorine, bromine, iodine, copper and silver, and which is very little modified in gold. its central globe is the simplest of all, as is its connecting rod. we may therefore take it that sodium is the ground-plan of the whole group. sodium: upper part { funnels of each { central globe lower part same connecting rod ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . copper (plate vi, ) introduces an addition in the funnel, that we shall find elsewhere, _e.g._, in silver, gold, iron, platinum, zinc, tin, the triangular arrangement near the mouth of the funnel and adds to the ten atoms in this nineteen more in three additional enclosed bodies, thus raising the number of atoms in a funnel from the sixteen of sodium to forty-five. the number in the central globe is doubled, and we meet for the first time the peculiar cigar or prism-shaped six-atomed arrangement, that is one of the most common of atomic groups. it ought to imply some definite quality, with its continual recurrence. the central column is the three, four, five, four, three, arrangement already noted. copper: upper part { funnels of atoms {central globe lower part same connecting rod ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . silver (plate vi, ) follows copper in the constitution of five of the bodies enclosed in the funnels. but the triangular group contains twenty-one atoms as against ten, and three ovoids, each containing three bodies with eleven atoms, raise the number of atoms in a funnel to seventy-nine. the central globe is decreased by five, and the prisms have disappeared. the connecting rod is unaltered. silver: upper part { funnels of atoms {central globe lower part same connecting rod ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . (this atomic weight is given by stas, in _nature_, august , , but it has been argued later that the weight should not be above . .) [illustration: plate vii.] gold (plate vii) is so complicated that it demands a whole plate to itself. it is difficult to recognize the familiar dumb-bell in this elongated egg, but when we come to examine it, the characteristic groupings appear. the egg is the enormously swollen connecting rod, and the upper and lower parts with their central globes are the almond-like projections above and below, with the central ovoid. round each almond is a shadowy funnel (not drawn in the diagram), and within the almond is the collection of bodies shown in _e_, wherein the two lowest bodies are the same as in every other member of the negative and positive groups; the third, ascending, is a very slight modification of the other thirds; the fourth is a union and re-arrangement of the fourth and fifth; the fifth, of four ovoids, adds one to the three ovoids of bromine, iodine and silver; the triangular group is like that in copper and silver, though with atoms instead of or , and it may be noted that the cone in iron has also . the central body in the ovoid is very complicated, and is shown in _c_, the bodies on each side, _d_, are each made up of two tetrahedra, one with four six-atomed prisms at its angles, and the other with four spheres, a pair with four atoms and a pair with three. we then come to the connecting rod. one of the four similar groups in the centre is enlarged in _a_, and one of the sixteen circling groups is enlarged in b. these groups are arranged in two planes inclined to one another. gold: upper part { funnels of atoms { central ovoid {c { d, lower part same connecting rod { a { b ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / it may be noted that the connecting rod is made up of exactly sixteen atoms of occultum, and that sixteen such atoms contain ultimate atoms, the exact member of atoms in titanium. * * * * * iii. occultum was observed by us in , and, finding that it was so light, and so simple in its composition, we thought that it might be helium, of which we were unable, at the time, to obtain a sample. when, however, helium itself came under observation in , it proved to be quite different from the object before observed, so we dubbed the unrecognised object occultum, until orthodox science shall find it and label it in proper fashion. occultum (plate vi, ). we here meet the tetrahedron for the first time, with each angle occupied by a six-atomed group, the atoms arranged as on the end triangles of a prism. this form recurs very often, and was noted, last month, as seen in copper (plate vi, ); it revolves with extreme rapidity around its longitudinal axis, and looks like a pencil sharpened at both ends, or a cigar tapering at both ends; we habitually spoke of it as "the cigar." it appears to be strongly coherent, for, as will be seen below, its six atoms remain attached to each other as meta-compounds and even when divided into two triplets as hyper-compounds, they revolve round each other. above the tetrahedron is a balloon-shaped figure, apparently drawn into shape by the attraction of the tetrahedron. the body below the tetrahedron looks like a coil of rope, and contains fifteen atoms; they are arranged on a slanting disk in a flat ring, and the force goes in at the top of one atom, and out of the bottom of it into the top of the next, and so on, making a closed circuit. the two little spheres, each containing a triplet, are like fill-up paragraphs to a compositor--they seem to be kept standing and popped in where wanted. the sphere marked _x_ is a proto-compound, the balloon when set free. as was noted under gold (p. ), sixteen occultum bodies, re-arranged, make up the connecting rod in gold:-- occultum: tetrahedron balloon triplets rope-circle ---- total ---- atomic weight not known number weight / dissociation of atoms. before proceeding to the study of other chemical atoms, as to their general internal arrangements, it is desirable to follow out, in those already shown, the way in which these atoms break up into simpler forms, yielding successively what we have called proto-, meta-, and hyper-compounds. it is naturally easier to follow these in the simpler atoms than in the more complex, and if the earlier dissociations are shown, the latter can be more readily and more intelligibly described. the first thing that happens on removing a gaseous atom from its "hole" (see pp. to ) or encircling "wall," is that the contained bodies are set free, and, evidently released from tremendous pressure, assume spherical or ovoid forms, the atoms within each re-arranging themselves, more or less, within the new "hole" or "wall." the figures are, of course, three-dimensional, and often remind one of crystals; tetrahedral, octagonal, and other like forms being of constant occurrence. in the diagrams of the proto-compounds, the constituent atoms are shown by dots. in the diagrams of the meta-compounds the dot becomes a heart, in order to show the resultants of the lines of force. in the diagrams of the hyper-compounds the same plan is followed. the letters _a_, _b_, _c_, &c., enable the student to follow the breaking up of each group through its successive stages. hydrogen (plate v, ). [illustration] the six bodies contained in the gaseous atom instantaneously re-arrange themselves within two spheres; the two linear triplets unite with one triangular triplet, holding to each other relative positions which, if connected by three right lines, would form a triangle with a triplet at each angle; the remaining three triangular triplets similarly arrange themselves in the second sphere. these form the proto-compounds of hydrogen. in the dissociation of these, each group breaks up into two, the two linear triplets joining each other and setting free their triangular comrade, while two of the triangular triplets similarly remain together, casting out the third, so that hydrogen yields four meta-compounds. in the hyper-condition, the connexion between the double triplets is broken, and they become four independent groups, two like ix, in the hyper-types (p. ), and two remaining linear, but rearranging their internal relations; the two remaining groups break up into two pairs and a unit. the final dissociation sets all the atoms free. occultum (plate vi, ). [illustration] on the first dissociation of the component parts of occultum, the tetrahedron separates as a whole, with its four "cigars," flattening itself out within its hole, _a_; two "cigars" are positive and two negative, marked respectively _a_ and _a'_. the rope becomes a ring within a sphere, _b_, and the two bodies _d_ _d_, which are loose in the gaseous atom, come within this ring. the balloon becomes a sphere. on further dissociation, the "cigars" go off independently, showing two types, and these again each divide into triplets, as meta-compounds. _b_, on the meta-level, casts out the two _d_ bodies, which become independent triplets, and the "rope" breaks into two, a close ring of seven atoms and a double cross of eight. these subdivide again to form hyper-compounds, the ring yielding a quintet and a pair, and the double cross separating into its two parts. the balloon, _c_, becomes much divided, the cohesion of its parts being slight; it forms two triplets, a pair and a unit, and these set free, on further dissociation, no less than five separate atoms and two duads. the two triplets of _d_ each cast out an atom on dissociation, and form two pairs and two units. sodium (plate vi, ). it is convenient to consider sodium next, because it is the basic pattern on which not only copper, silver and gold are formed, but also chlorine, bromine and iodine. [illustration] when sodium is set free from its gaseous condition, it divides up into thirty-one bodies--twenty-four separate funnels, four bodies derived from the two central globes, and three from the connecting rod. the funnels become spheres, and each contains four enclosed spheres, with more or less complicated contents. each central globe yields a sextet and a quartet, and the rod sets free two quartets and a peculiarly formed sextet. when the proto-compounds are dissociated, the funnel-sphere sets free: ( ) the contents of _a_, rearranged into two groups of four within a common sphere; the sphere yields four duads as hyper-compounds; ( ) the contents of _b_, which unite themselves into a quartet, yielding two duads as hyper-compounds; and ( ) the contents of the two spheres, _c_, which maintain their separation as meta-compounds, and become entirely independent, the atoms within the sphere revolving round each other, but the spheres ceasing their revolution round a common axis, and going off in different directions. the atoms break off from each other, and gyrate in independent solitude as hyper-"compounds." thus each funnel yields finally ten hyper-bodies. the part of the central globe, marked _d_, with its six atoms, whirling round a common centre, becomes two triplets, at the meta-stage, preparing for the complete separation of these as hyper-bodies. the second part of the same globe, marked _e_, a whirling cross, with an atom at each point, becomes a quartet in the meta-state, in which three atoms revolve round a fourth, and in the hyper-state this central atom is set free, leaving a triplet and a unit. each of the two bodies marked _f_, liberated from the connecting rod, shows four atoms whirling round a common centre, exactly resembling _e_ in appearance; but there must be some difference of inner relations, for, in the meta-state, they re-arrange themselves as two pairs, and divide into two as hyper-bodies. the body marked _g_ is a four-sided pyramid, with two closely joined atoms at its apex; these still cling to each in mutual revolution as a meta-body, encircled by a ring of four, and this leads to a further dissociation into three pairs on the hyper-level. chlorine (plate v, ). [illustration] the description of the funnel of sodium applies to that of chlorine, until we come to the body nearest the mouth, the sphere containing three additional bodies; this remains within the funnel in the first dissociation, so that again we have twenty-four separate funnels as proto-compounds; the central globes are the same as in sodium, and yield the same four bodies; the connecting rod sets free five bodies, of which two are the same; we have thus thirty-three separate bodies as the result of the dissociation of chlorine into its proto-compounds. as all the compounds which are in sodium break up in the same way into meta- and hyper-compounds, we need not repeat the process here. we have only to consider the new meta- and hyper-compounds of the highest sphere within the funnel, and the two triplets and one quintet from the connecting rod. the additional body within the proto-funnel is of a very simple character, three contained triangles within the flattened sphere. on release from the funnel, on the meta-level, the atoms rearrange themselves in a whirling set of three triplets, and these break off from each other as hyper-compounds. the two triplets from the connecting rod, also, are of the simplest character and need not delay us. the five-atomed body, a four-sided pyramid as a proto-compound, becomes a ring whirling round a centre on the meta, and two pairs with a unit on the hyper. bromine (plate v, ). three additional bodies appear at the top of the funnel, which otherwise repeats that of chlorine. the connecting rod is the same and may be disregarded. the central globes become more complex. the additions are, however, of very easy types, and hence are readily dealt with. each of the three similar ovoid bodies contains two triplets--each a triangle and a quintet--a four-sided pyramid. these are the same, as may be seen in the connecting rod of chlorine, and we need not repeat them. only the globe remains. this does not break up as a proto-compound but is merely set free, _a_ and the _bs_ whirling in a plane vertical to the paper and the two smaller bodies, _cc_, whirling on a plane at right angles to the other. these two disengage themselves, forming a quartet as a meta-compound, while _a_ makes a whirling cross and _bb_ a single sextet; these further dissociate themselves into four pairs and two triplets. iodine (plate v, ). [illustration] iodine has nothing new to give us, except five similar ovoid bodies at the top of each funnel, and two quartets instead of two pairs in the central globe. the ovoid bodies become spheres when the funnels are thrown off, and a crystalline form is indicated within the sphere. the atoms are arranged in two tetrahedra with a common apex, and the relationship is maintained in the meta-body, a septet. the latter breaks up into two triplets and a unit on the hyper-level. in the central globes, the _a_ of bromine is repeated twice instead of the pairs in _cc_. copper (plate vi, ). we have already disposed of occultum, on this plate, and of sodium, which lies at the root of both groups. copper, we now find, is also very largely off our hands, as the funnel provides us with only two new types--two spheres--each containing five atoms in a new arrangement, and the triangular body at the mouth with its ten atoms. this triangular body, with an increased number of atoms, reappears in various other chemical elements. the central globes are different from any we have had before, in their internal arrangement, but the constituents are familiar; there are two contained spheres with four atoms each, the _a_ in the globe of bromine (see above) and "cigars." the "cigars" may be followed under occultum (see above). the connecting rod is as in chlorine, bromine and iodine. the atoms in the bodies _a_ and _b_ are curiously arranged. _a_ consists of two square-based pyramids turned so as to meet at their apices, and breaks up into two quartet rings and a duad. _b_ is again two four-sided pyramids, but the bases are in contact and set at right angles to each other; the second apex is not seen, as it is directly below the first. the pyramids separate as meta-bodies, and the atoms assume the peculiar arrangement indicated and then break up into four pairs and two units on the hyper level. * * * * * iv. silver (plate vi, and ag below). silver presents us with only two new bodies, and even these are only new by slight additions to old models. the triangular shaped body at the apex of the funnel, containing atoms, is intermediate between the similar bodies in copper and iron. as a proto-element it becomes three triangles, joined at their apices, in fact a tetrahedron in which no atoms are distributed on the fourth face. the faces separate on the meta level and give three seven-atomed figures, and each of these breaks up into two triplets and a unit. the central globe only differs from that of bromine by the addition of one atom, which gives the familiar four-sided pyramid with a square base as in chlorine (see p. ). gold (plate vii and au below). [illustration] the disintegration of gold first yields forty-seven bodies on the proto-level; the twenty-four funnels separate, and the central globes which hold each twelve together set free their six contained globes (_c_, _d_), thirty bodies being thus liberated. the sixteen bodies on the central inclined planes, marked _b_, break away, their central globe, with its four contained globes, remaining unchanged. but this condition does not last. the motion of the funnels changes and thus the funnels cease to exist and their contents are set free, each funnel thus liberating nine independent bodies; the sixteen _b_ separate into two each; the four _a_ liberate five each; the two _c_ set free thirteen each; the four _d_ finally liberate two each: proto elements in all. the funnel is almost that of iodine, re-arranged. four of the first ring in the iodine funnel are replaced by the triangular body, which becomes a four-sided pyramid with an occupied base. the second ring of three ovoids in iodine becomes four in gold, but the internal arrangement of each ovoid is the same. the next two spheres in the iodine funnel coalesce into one sphere, with similar contents, in the gold funnel. the fifth in iodine is slightly rearranged to form the fourth in descent in gold, and the remaining two are the same. _b_ has been broken up under occultum (p. ) and can be followed there. the sixteen rings set free from the four _a_, after gyrating round the central body, now become a sphere, break up, as in occultum (see p. ) into a meta seven-atomed ring and an eight-atomed double cross, and so on to the hyper level. the sphere with its two contained bodies breaks up into eight triangles on the meta level, and each of these, on the hyper, into a duad and a unit. the twelve septets of _c_ assume the form of prisms as in iodine (see p. ) and pursue the same course, while its central body, a four-sided pyramid with its six attendants, divides on the meta level into six duads, revolving round a ring with a central atom as in chlorine (p. ), the duads going off independently on the hyper-level and the ring breaking up as in chlorine. the "cigar" tetrahedron of _d_ follows its course as in occultum, and the other sets free two quartets and two triplets on the meta level, yielding six duads and two units as hyper compounds. it will be seen that, complex as gold is, it is composed of constituents already familiar, and has iodine and occultum as its nearest allies. ii and iia.--the tetrahedral groups. ii.--this group consists of beryllium (glucinum), calcium, strontium and barium, all diatomic, paramagnetic and positive. the corresponding group consists of oxygen, chromium, molybdenum, wolfram (tungsten) and uranium, with a blank disk between wolfram and uranium: these are diatomic, paramagnetic, and negative. we have not examined barium, wolfram, or uranium. [illustration: plate viii.] beryllium (plate iii, , and plate viii, ). in the tetrahedron four funnels are found, the mouth of each funnel opening on one of its faces. the funnels radiate from a central globe, and each funnel contains four ovoids each with ten atoms within it arranged in three spheres. in the accompanying diagrams one funnel with its four ovoids is shown and a single ovoid with its three spheres, containing severally three, four, and three atoms, is seen at the left-hand corner of the plate ( _a_). the members of this group are alike in arrangement, differing only in the increased complexity of the bodies contained in the funnels. beryllium, it will be observed, is very simple, whereas calcium and strontium are complicated. beryllium: funnels of atoms central globe ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . calcium (plate viii, ) shows in each funnel three contained spheres, of which the central one has within it seven ovoids identical with those of beryllium, and the spheres above and below it contain each five ovoids ( _b_) in which the three contained spheres have, respectively, two, five, and two atoms. the central globe is double, globe within globe, and is divided into eight segments, radiating from the centre like an orange; the internal part of the segment belonging to the inner globe has a triangular body within it, containing four atoms ( _c_), and the external part, belonging to the encircling globe, shows the familiar "cigar" ( _d_). in this way atoms are packed into the simple beryllium type. calcium: funnels of atoms central globe ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . strontium (plate viii, ) shows a still further complication within the funnels, no less than eight spheres being found within each. each of the highest pair contains four subsidiary spheres, with five, seven, seven, five atoms, respectively ( _e_, _g_, _f_). the _g_ groups are identical with those in gold, but difference of pressure makes the containing body spherical instead of ovoid; similar groups are seen in the top ring of the iodine funnel, where also the "hole" is ovoid in form. the second pair of spheres contains ten ovoids ( _b_) identical with those of calcium. the third pair contains fourteen ovoids ( _a_) identical with those of beryllium, while the fourth pair repeats the second, with the ovoids re-arranged. the internal divisions of the double sphere of the central globe are the same as in calcium, but the contents differ. the "cigars" in the external segments are replaced by seven-atomed ovoids ( _h_)--the iodine ovoids--and the external segments contain five-atomed triangles ( _i_). thus , atoms have been packed into the beryllium type, and our wonder is again aroused by the ingenuity with which a type is preserved while it is adapted to new conditions. strontium: funnels of atoms central globe ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . the corresponding group, headed by oxygen--oxygen, chromium, molybdenum, wolfram and uranium--offers us another problem in its first member. oxygen (plate viii, ). this was examined by us in , and the description may be reproduced here with a much improved diagram of its very peculiar constitution. the gaseous atom is an ovoid body, within which a spirally-coiled snake-like body revolves at a high velocity, five brilliant points of light shining on the coils. the appearance given in the former diagram will be obtained by placing the five septets on one side on the top of those on the other, so that the ten become in appearance five, and thus doubling the whole, the doubling point leaving eleven duads on each side. the composition is, however, much better seen by flattening out the whole. on the proto level the two snakes separate and are clearly seen. oxygen: positive snake { spheres of atoms } { + disks of atoms } negative snake " ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . chromium (plate viii, ) "reverts to the ancestral type," the tetrahedron; the funnel is widened by the arrangement of its contents, three spheres forming its first ring, as compared with the units in beryllium and calcium, and the pairs in strontium and molybdenum. two of these spheres are identical in their contents--two quintets ( _f_), a quintet ( _j_), and two quintets ( _e_), _e_ and _f_ being to each other as object and image. the remaining sphere ( _b_) is identical with the highest in the calcium funnel. the remaining two spheres, one below the other, are identical with the corresponding two spheres in calcium. the central globe, as regards its external segments, is again identical with that of calcium, but in the internal segments a six-atomed triangle ( _k_) is substituted for the calcium four-atomed one ( _e_). chromium: funnels of atoms central globe ----- total ----- atomic weight . number weight / . molybdenum (plate viii, ) very closely resembles strontium, differing from it only in the composition of the highest pair of spheres in the funnels and in the presence of a little sphere, containing two atoms only, in the middle of the central globe. the topmost spheres contain no less than eight subsidiary spheres within each; the highest of these ( _e_) has four atoms in it; the next three have four, seven and four ( _e_ _g_ _e_), respectively; the next three are all septets ( _g_), and the last has four--making in all for these two spheres atoms, as against the in corresponding spheres of strontium, making a difference of in the four funnels. molybdenum: funnels of atoms central globe ----- total ----- atomic weight . number weight / . ii a.--this group contains magnesium, zinc, cadmium, and mercury, with an empty disk between cadmium and mercury; we did not examine mercury. all are diatomic, diamagnetic and positive; the corresponding group consists of sulphur, selenium and tellurium, also all diatomic and diamagnetic, but negative. the same characteristics of four funnels opening on the faces of a tetrahedron are found in all, but magnesium and sulphur have no central globe, and in cadmium and tellurium the globe has become a cross. [illustration: plate ix.] magnesium (plate ix, ) introduces us to a new arrangement: each group of three ovoids forms a ring, and the three rings are within a funnel; at first glance, there are three bodies in the funnel; on examination each of these is seen to consist of three, with other bodies, spheres, again within them. apart from this, the composition is simple enough, all the ovoids being alike, and composed of a triplet, a septet and a duad. magnesium: funnels of atoms atomic weight . number weight / . zinc (plate ix, ) also brings a new device: the funnel is of the same type as that of magnesium, while septets are substituted for the triplets, and additional atoms are thus slipped in. then we see four spikes, alternating with the funnels and pointing to the angles, each adding atoms to the total. the spikes show the ten-atomed triangle, already met with in other metals, three very regular pillars, each with six spheres, containing two, three, four, four, three, two atoms, respectively. the supporting spheres are on the model of the central globe, but contain more atoms. funnels and spikes alike radiate from a simple central globe, in which five contained spheres are arranged crosswise, preparing for the fully developed cross of cadmium. the ends of the cross touch the bottoms of the funnels. zinc: funnels of atoms spikes of atoms central globe ----- total ----- atomic weight . number weight / . cadmium (plate ix, ) has an increased complexity of funnels; the diagram shows one of the three similar segments which lie within the funnels as cylinders; each of these contains four spheres, three pillars and three ovoids, like the spike of zinc turned upside down, and the zinc ten-atomed triangle changed into three ten-atomed ovoids. the centre-piece is a new form, though prefigured in the central globe of zinc. cadmium: segments of atoms = funnels of atoms central body ----- total ----- atomic weight . number weight / . the corresponding negative group is headed by [illustration: plate x.] sulphur (plate x, ), which, like magnesium, has no central globe, and consists simply of the zinc funnels, much less compressed than zinc but the same in composition. sulphur: funnels of atoms atomic weight . number weight / . selenium (plate x, ) is distinguished by the exquisite peculiarity, already noticed, of a quivering star, floating across the mouth of each funnel, and dancing violently when a ray of light falls upon it. it is known that the conductivity of selenium varies with the intensity of the light falling upon it, and it may be that the star is in some way connected with its conductivity. it will be seen that the star is a very complicated body, and in each of its six points the two five-atomed spheres revolve round the seven-atomed cone. the bodies in the funnels resemble those in magnesium, but a reversed image of the top one is interposed between itself and the small duad, and each pair has its own enclosure. the central globe is the same as that of zinc. selenium: funnels of atoms stars of atoms central globe ----- total ----- atomic weight . number weight / . tellurium (plate x, ), it will be seen, closely resembles cadmium, and has three cylindrical segments--of which one is figured--making up the funnel. the contained bodies in the pillars run three, four, five, four, three, two, instead of starting with two; and a quartet replaces a duad in the globes above. the central cross only differs from that of cadmium in having a seven-atomed instead of a four-atomed centre. so close a similarity is striking. tellurium: segments of atoms = funnels of atoms central body ----- total ----- atomic weight . number weight / . * * * * * v. we must now consider the ways in which the members of the tetrahedral groups break up, and as we proceed with this study we shall find how continual are the repetitions, and how nature, with a limited number of fundamental methods, creates by varied combinations her infinite variety of forms. beryllium (plate iii, , and viii, ). [illustration] beryllium offers us four similar funnels and a central globe, and the proto-elements consist of these five bodies, set free. the funnel, released from pressure, assumes a spherical form, with its four ovoids spinning within it, and the central globe remains a sphere, containing a whirling cross. on the meta level, the ovoids are set free, and two from each funnel are seen to be positive, two negative--sixteen bodies in all, _plus_ the cross, in which the resultant force-lines are changed, preparatory to its breaking into two duads on the hyper level. on that level, the decades disintegrate into two triplets and a quartet, the positive with the depressions inward, the negative with the depressions outward. calcium (plate viii, ). the funnels, as usual, assume a spherical form on the proto level, and show, in each case, three spheres containing ovoids. these spheres, still on the proto level, break free from their containing funnel, as in the case of gold (p. ), twelve bodies being thus liberated, while the central globe breaks up into eight segments, each of which becomes globular, and contains within it a "cigar" and a somewhat heart-shaped body. four spheres, each containing seven ten-atomed ovoids, are identical with those in beryllium, and can be followed in its diagram. eight spheres, each containing five nine-atomed ovoids of a different type, set free, on the meta level, eighty duads--forty positive and forty negative--and forty quintets, which are identical with those in chlorine. on the hyper level, the duads become single atoms, within a sphere, and the central atom from the quintet is also set free, one hundred and twenty in all. the remaining four atoms of the quintet divide into two duads. the central globe, dividing into eight, becomes eight six-atomed spheres on the meta, the "cigar" behaving as usual, four "cigars" being positive and four negative, and becoming dissociated into triplets; the four atoms within the heart-shaped body appear as a tetrahedron, remain together on the meta level, and break up into duads on the hyper. strontium (plate viii, ). the third member of this group repeats the _a_ groups of beryllium and the _b_ groups of calcium, and they dissociate into the bodies already described under these respectively. the two upper globes in each funnel repeat each other, but each globe contains four smaller spheres showing three varieties of forms. the two marked _g_, which are repeated in the central globe as _h_, are seven-atomed, and appear as spheres or ovoids according to pressure. they are figured on p. , under iodine; _e_ and _f_ are related as object and image, and we have already seen them in copper (pp. and ); in each case, as in copper, they unite into a ten-atomed figure; on the meta level the pair of fours form a ring, and the remaining two atoms form a duad; _i_, which repeats _f_, makes a ring with the fifth in the centre, as in the five-atomed _b_ of calcium, as shown above. there is, thus, nothing new in strontium, but only repetitions of forms already studied. oxygen (plate viii, ). [illustration] the disintegration of oxygen as given in may be repeated here, and the better presentation given on p. renders it easier to follow the process. on the proto level the two "snakes" divide; the brilliant disks are seven-atomed, but are differently arranged, the positive snake having the atoms arranged as in the iodine ovoids, whereas the negative snake has them arranged as in a capital h. the snakes show the same extraordinary activity on the proto level as on the gaseous, twisting and writhing, darting and coiling. the body of the snake is of two-atomed beads, positive and negative. on the meta level the snakes break into ten fragments, each consisting of a disk, with six beads on one side and five on the other, remaining as lively as the original snake. they shiver into their constituent disks, and beads on the hyper level, there yielding the ten disks, five positive and five negative, and the beads, fifty-five positive and fifty-five negative. chromium (plate viii, ). when we go on to chromium and molybdenum, we return to our familiar funnels and central globes, and the secondary spheres within the funnels--quickly set free, as before, on the proto level--give us no new combinations in their contained spheres and ovoids. the _a_ of beryllium, the _b_ of calcium and strontium, and _d_ of calcium, the _e_ and _f_ of strontium, are all there; _j_ in chromium is the same as the central sphere in the _b_ ovoid. in the central globe, _k_, is a pair of triangles as in hydrogen, consisting of only six atoms, which on the meta level revolve round each other, and break up into two duads and two units on the hyper. molybdenum (plate viii, ). molybdenum presents us with only two new forms, and these are merely four-atomed tetrahedra, occurring in pairs as object and image. all the other bodies have already been analysed. ii a.--we come now to the second great tetrahedral group, which though very much complicated, is yet, for the most part, a repetition of familiar forms. magnesium (plate ix, ). [illustration] we are still among tetrahedra, so have to do with four funnels, but each funnel contains three rings, and each ring three ovoids; on the proto level a triple dissociation takes place, for the funnels let free the rings as large spheres, in each of which rotate three twelve-atomed ovoids, and then the ovoids break loose from the spheres, and themselves become spherical, so that we have finally thirty-six proto compounds from the tetrahedron. on the meta level the contained bodies, a triplet, mg _a_, a septet, mg _b_, and a duad, mg _c_, are set free from each globe, thus yielding one hundred and eight meta compounds. on the hyper level the triplet becomes a duad and a unit; the duad becomes two units; and the septet a triplet and a quartet. zinc (plate ix, ). we can leave aside the funnel, for the only difference between it and the magnesium funnel is the substitution of a second septet for the triplet, and the septet is already shown in the magnesium diagram. we have, therefore, only to consider the spikes, pointing to the angles of the enclosing tetrahedron, and the central globe. these are set free on the proto level and the spikes immediately release their contents, yielding thus thirty-two separate bodies. the triangular arrangement at the top of the spike is the same as occurs in copper (_b_ on p. ), and can be there followed. one of the three similar pillars is shown in the accompanying diagram under zn a. the compressed long oval becomes a globe, with six bodies revolving within it in a rather peculiar way: the quartets turn round each other in the middle; the triplets revolve round them in a slanting ellipse; the duads do the same on an ellipse slanting at an angle with the first, somewhat as in gold (_a_ and _b_, p. ). the spheres within the globes at the base of the spikes, zn _b_, behave as a cross--the cross is a favourite device in the ii _a_ groups. finally, the central globe, zn _c_, follows the same cruciform line of disintegration. cadmium (plate ix, ). [illustration] cadmium follows very closely on the lines of zinc; the pillars of the zinc spike are reproduced in the rings of the cadmium funnel; the globes are also the globes of cadmium; so neither of these needs attention. we have only to consider the three ten-atomed ovoids, which are substituted for the one ten-atomed triangle of zinc, and the central cross. the ovoids become spheres (cd _a_, _b_), the contained bodies revolving within them, _a_ whirling on a diameter of the sphere, cutting it in halves, as it were, and _b_ whirling round it at right angles; the cross also becomes a sphere (cd _c_), but the cruciform type is maintained within it by the relative positions of the contained spheres in their revolution. the subsequent stages are shown in the diagram. sulphur (plate xi, ). sulphur has nothing new, but shows only the funnels already figured in magnesium, with the substitution of a second septet for the triplet, as in zinc. selenium (plate x, ). [illustration] the funnel of selenium is a re-arrangement of the twelve-atomed ovoids of magnesium and the ten-atomed ovoids of cadmium. the funnels, on disintegrating, set free twelve groups, each containing nine spheres. on the meta level the ten-atomed bodies are set free, and the twelve-atomed divide into duads and decads, thus yielding seventy-two decads and thirty-six duads; the duads, however, at once recombine into hexads, thus giving only twelve meta elements, or eighty-four in all from the funnels. the central globe holds together on the proto level, but yields five meta elements. the star also at first remains a unit on the proto level, and then shoots off into seven bodies, the centre keeping together, and the six points becoming spheres, within which the two cones, base to base, whirl in the centre, and the globes circle round them. on the meta level all the thirty bodies contained in the star separate from each other, and go on their independent ways. selenium offers a beautiful example of the combination of simple elements into a most exquisite whole. tellurium (plate x, ). tellurium very closely resembles cadmium, and they are, therefore placed on the same diagram. the pillars are the same as in chlorine and its congeners, with a duad added at the base. the ten-atomed ovoid is the same as in cadmium and follows the same course in breaking up. it would be interesting to know why this duad remains as a duad in selenium and breaks up into a septad and triad in the other members of the group. it may be due to the greater pressure to which it is subjected in selenium, or there may be some other reason. the cross in tellurium is identical with that in cadmium, except that the centre is seven-atomed instead of four-atomed. * * * * * vi. iii and iiia.--the cube groups. we have here four groups to consider, all the members of which are triads, and have six funnels, opening on the six faces of a cube. iii.--boron, scandium and yttrium were examined; they are all triatomic, paramagnetic, and positive. the corresponding group consists of nitrogen, vanadium and niobium; they are triatomic, paramagnetic, and negative. we have not examined the remaining members of these groups. in these two groups nitrogen dominates, and in order to make the comparison easy the nitrogen elements are figured on both plate xi and plate xii. it will be seen that scandium and yttrium, of the positive group, differ only in details from vanadium and niobium, of the negative group; the ground-plan on which they are built is the same. we noted a similar close resemblance between the positive strontium and the negative molybdenum. [illustration: plate xi.] boron (plate iii, , and plate xi, ). we have here the simplest form of the cube; the funnels contain only five bodies--four six-atomed ovoids and one six-atomed "cigar." the central globe has but four five-atomed spheres. it is as simple in relation to its congeners as is beryllium to its group-members. boron: funnels of atoms central globe ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . scandium (plate xi, ). for the first time we meet funnels of different types, a and b, three of each kind; a appear to be positive and b negative, but this must be stated with reserve. in a the boron funnel is reproduced, the "cigar" having risen above its companion ovoids; but the most important matter to note in respect to this funnel is our introduction to the body marked _a_ . this body was observed by us first in nitrogen, in , and we gave it the name of the "nitrogen balloon," for in nitrogen it takes the balloon form, which it also often assumes in other gaseous elements. here it appears as a sphere--the form always assumed on the proto level--and it will be seen, on reference to the detailed diagram _a_, to be a complicated body, consisting of six fourteen-atomed globes arranged round a long ovoid containing spheres with three, four, six, six, four, three, atoms respectively. it will be observed that this balloon appears in every member of these two groups, except boron. the b funnel runs largely to triads, _c_ and _b_, _b_ (see _b_) having not only a triadic arrangement of spheres within its contained globes, but each sphere has also a triplet of atoms. in _c_ (see _c_) there is a triadic arrangement of spheres, but each contains duads. b is completed by a five-atomed sphere at the top of the funnel. it should be noted that _a_, _b_ and _c_ all are constituents of nitrogen. the central globe repeats that of boron, with an additional four-atomed sphere in the middle. scandium: funnels (a) of atoms " (b) of " centre globe ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . yttrium (plate xi, ). here we have a quite new arrangement of bodies within the funnel--the funnel being of one type only. two "cigars" whirl on their own axes in the centre near the top, while four eight-atomed globes (see _e_) chase each other in a circle round them, spinning madly on their own axes--this axial spinning seems constant in all contained bodies--all the time. lower down in the funnel, a similar arrangement is seen, with a globe (see _d_)--a nitrogen element--replacing the "cigars," and six-atomed ovoids replacing the globes. the "nitrogen balloon" occupies the third place in the funnel, now showing its usual shape in combination, while the _b_ globe (see _b_) of scandium takes on a lengthened form below it. the central globe presents us with two tetrahedra, recalling one of the combinations in gold (see plate vii _d_), and differing from that only by the substitution of two quartets for the two triplets in gold. one funnel of yttrium contains exactly the same number of atoms as is contained in a gaseous atom of nitrogen. further, _a_, _b_, and _d_ are all nitrogen elements. we put on record these facts, without trying to draw any conclusions from them. some day, we--or others--may find out their significance, and trace through them obscure relations. yttrium: funnels of atoms central globe ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . the corresponding negative group, of nitrogen, vanadium and niobium, is rendered particularly interesting by the fact that it is headed by nitrogen, which--like the air, of which it forms so large a part--pervades so many of the bodies we are studying. what is there in nitrogen which renders it so inert as to conveniently dilute the fiery oxygen and make it breathable, while it is so extraordinarily active in some of its compounds that it enters into the most powerful explosives? some chemist of the future, perhaps, will find the secret in the arrangement of its constituent parts, which we are able only to describe. [illustration: plate xii.] nitrogen (plate xii, ) does not assume the cubical form of its relatives, but is in shape like an egg. referring again to our investigations, i quote from them. the balloon-shaped body (see _a_) floats in the middle of the egg, containing six small spheres in two horizontal rows, and a long ovoid in the midst; this balloon-shaped body is positive, and is drawn down towards the negative body _b_ (see _b_) with its seven contained spheres, each of which has nine atoms within it--three triads. four spheres are seen, in addition to the two larger bodies; two of these (see _d_), each containing five smaller globes, are positive, and two (see _c_) containing four smaller globes, are negative. nitrogen: balloon oval bodies of atoms " " " ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . vanadium (plate xii, ) closely follows scandium, having two types of funnels. funnel a only differs from that of scandium by having a globe (see _d_) inserted in the ring of four ovoids; funnel b has a six-atomed, instead of a five-atomed globe at the top, and slips a third globe containing twenty atoms (see _d_) between the two identical with those of scandium (see _c_). the central globe has seven atoms in its middle body instead of four. in this way does vanadium succeed in overtopping scandium by atoms. vanadium: funnels (a) of atoms " (b) " " central globe ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . niobium (plate xii, ) is as closely related to yttrium as is vanadium to scandium. the little globes that scamper round the "cigars" contain twelve atoms instead of eight (see _e_). the rest of the funnel is the same. in the central globe both the tetrahedra have "cigars," and a central nine-atomed globe spins round in the centre (see _f_), seventeen atoms being thus added. niobium: funnels of atoms central globe ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . iii a.--aluminium, gallium and indium were examined from this group. they are triatomic, diamagnetic, and positive. the corresponding group contains phosphorus, arsenic and antimony: bismuth also belongs to it, but was not examined; they are triatomic, diamagnetic and negative. they have no central globes. [illustration: plate xiii.] aluminium (plate xiii, ), the head of the group, is, as usual, simple. there are six similar funnels, each containing eight ovoids, below which is a globe. aluminium: funnels of atoms atomic weight . number weight / . gallium (plate xiii, ) has two segments in every funnel; in the segment to the left a "cigar" balances a globe, equally six-atomed, in that of the right, and the globes to right and left are four-atomed as against three-atomed. in the next row, the smaller contained globes have six atoms as against four, and the cones have respectively seven and five. by these little additions the left-hand funnel boasts one hundred and twelve atoms as against ninety-eight. gallium: left segment atoms } right segment " } = funnels of atoms ---- atomic weight . number weight / . indium (plate xiii, ) repeats the segments of gallium exactly, save in the substitution of a sixteen-atomed body for the seven-atomed cone of the left-hand segment, and a fourteen-atomed body for the five-atomed corresponding one in gallium. but each funnel now has three segments instead of two; three funnels out of the six contain two segments of type a and one of type b; the remaining three contain two of type b, and one of type a. indium: segment a atoms segment b " funnels of a and b ([ + ] ) " " b and a ([ + ] ) ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . the corresponding negative group, phosphorus, arsenic, and antimony, run on very similar lines to those we have just examined. [illustration: plate xiv.] phosphorus (plate xiv, ) offers us a very curious arrangement of atoms, which will give some new forms in breaking up. two segments are in each funnel, in fact the only two of group iii _a_ which do not show this arrangement, or a modification thereof, are aluminium and arsenic. phosphorus: left segment atoms right segment " -- funnels of atoms atomic weight . number weight / . arsenic (plate xiv, ) resembles aluminium in having eight internal sub-divisions in a funnel, and the ovoids which form the top ring are identical, save for a minute difference that in aluminium the ovoids stand the reverse way from those in arsenic. it will be noted that in the former the top and bottom triangles of atoms have the apices upwards, and the middle one has its apex downwards. in arsenic, the top and bottom ones point downwards, and the middle one upwards. arsenic inserts sixteen spheres between the ovoids and globe shown in aluminium, and thus adds no less than one hundred and forty-four atoms to each funnel. arsenic: funnels of atoms atomic weight . number weight / . antimony (plate xiv, ) is a close copy of indium, and the arrangement of types a and b in the funnels is identical. in the middle rings of both a and b a triplet is substituted for a unit at the centre of the larger globe. in the lowest body of type a the "cigar" has vanished, and is represented by a seven-atomed crystalline form. antimony: segment a atoms segment b atoms funnels of a and b ([ + ] ) " " b and a ([ + ] ) ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight . * * * * * vii. boron (plate iii, , and plate xi, ). [illustration] the disintegration of boron is very simple: the funnels are set free and assume the spherical form, showing a central "cigar" and four globes each containing two triplets. the central globe is also set free with its four quintets, and breaks at once in two. on the meta level the "cigar" breaks up as usual, and the triplets separate. on the hyper level, the "cigar" follows its usual course, and the triplets become duads and units. the globe forms two quintets on the meta level, and these are resolved into triplets and duads. scandium (plate xi, ). in funnel a the "cigar" and the ovoids behave as in boron, but the "balloon," _a_ (xi, ), escapes from the funnel as it changes to a sphere, and holds together on the proto level; on the meta, it yields six globes each containing seven duads, and these are all set free as duads on the hyper level; the ovoid is also set free on the meta level becoming a sphere, and on the hyper level liberates its contained bodies, as two triplets, two quartets and two sextets. in funnel b there is a quintet, that behaves like those in the globe of boron, on escaping from the funnel, in which the bodies remain on the proto level, with the exception of _b_ , which escapes. on the meta level, _c_ (plate xi, ), _c_ assumes a tetrahedral form with six atoms at each point, and these hold together as sextets on the hyper level. at the meta stage, _b_ (plate xi, _b_) sets free seven nine-atomed bodies, which become free triplets on the hyper. the central globe shows a cross at its centre, with the four quintets whirling round it, on the proto level. on the meta, the quintets are set free, and follow the boron type, while the cross becomes a quartet on the meta level, and two duads on the hyper. yttrium (plate xi, ). [illustration] in yttrium, on the proto level, _a_ and _b_ both escape from the funnel, and behave as in scandium. the ovoids and "cigars," set free on the meta level, behave as in boron. the central globe breaks up as in gold (pp. and ), four quartets being set free instead of two quartets and two triplets. we have only to consider _e_ and _d_ (plate xi, ). _e_ is a tetrahedral arrangement of duads on the meta level, set free as duads on the hyper. _d_ is an arrangement of pairs of duads at the angles of a square-based pyramid on the meta, and again free duads on the hyper. nitrogen (plate xii, ). nitrogen has nothing new to show us, all its constituents having appeared in scandium and yttrium. vanadium (plate xii, ). the a funnel of vanadium repeats the a funnel of scandium, with the addition of _d_ , already studied. in the b funnel scandium b is repeated, with an addition of _d_ and a sextet for a quintet; the sextet is the _c_ of the "nitrogen balloon." the central globe follows boron, save that it has a septet for its centre; this was figured in iodine (p. ). niobium (plate xii, ). niobium only differs from yttrium by the introduction of triplets for duads in _e_; on the meta level we have therefore triplets, and on the hyper each triplet yields a duad and a unit. the only other difference is in the central globe. the tetrahedra separate as usual, but liberate eight "cigars" instead of four with four quartets; the central body is simple, becoming three triads at the angles of a triangle on the meta level, and three duads and three units on the hyper. aluminium (plate xiii, ). [illustration] the funnels let go the globes, but the eight ovoids remain within them, so that seven bodies are let loose on the proto level. when the ovoids are set free at the meta stage they become spherical and a nine-atomed body is produced, which breaks up into triangles on the hyper level. the globe becomes a cross at the meta stage, with one atom from the duads at each arm in addition to its own, and these form four duads on the hyper, and a unit from the centre. gallium (plate xiii, ). in gallium the funnel disappears on the proto level, setting free its two contained segments, each of which forms a cylinder, thus yielding twelve bodies on the proto level. on the meta, the three upper globes in each left-hand segment are set free, and soon vanish, each liberating a cigar and two septets, the quartet and triad uniting. on the hyper the quartet yields two duads but the triangle persists. the second set of bodies divide on the meta level, forming a sextet and a cross with a duad at each arm; these on the hyper level divide into two triangles, four duads and a unit. the seven-atomed cone becomes two triangles united by a single atom, and on the meta level these form a ring round the unit; on the hyper they form three duads and a unit. in the right-hand segment, the same policy is followed, the four triads becoming two sextets, while the central body adds a third to the number. the second ring has a quartet instead of the sextet, but otherwise breaks up as does that of the left; the quintet at the base follows that of boron. indium (plate xiii, ). the complication of three segments of different types in each funnel does not affect the process of breaking up, and indium needs little attention. a is exactly the same as the left-hand funnel of gallium, save for the substitution of a globe containing the familiar "cigar" and two square-based pyramids. b is the same as the right-hand funnel of gallium, except that its lowest body consists of two square-based pyramids and a tetrahedron. all these are familiar. phosphorus (plate xiv, ). [illustration] the atoms in the six similar spheres in the segments of the phosphorus funnel are arranged on the eight angles of a cube, and the central one is attached to all of them. on the meta level five of the nine atoms hold together and place themselves on the angles of a square-based pyramid; the remaining four set themselves on the angle of a tetrahedron. they yield, on the hyper level, two triads, a duad, and a unit. the remaining bodies are simple and familiar. arsenic (plate xiv, ). arsenic shows the same ovoids and globe as have already been broken up in aluminium (see _ante_); the remaining sixteen spheres form nine-atomed bodies on the meta level, all similar to those of aluminium, thus yielding twelve positive and twelve negative; the globe also yields a nine-atomed body, twenty-five bodies of nine. antimony (plate xiv, ). antimony follows closely in the track of gallium and indium, the upper ring of spheres being identical. in the second ring, a triplet is substituted for the unit, and this apparently throws the cross out of gear, and we have a new eleven-atomed figure, which breaks up into a triplet and two quartets on the hyper level. the lowest seven-atomed sphere of the three at the base is the same as we met with in copper. * * * * * viii. iv.--the octahedral groups. these groups are at the turns of the spiral in sir william crookes' lemniscates (see p. ). on the one side is carbon, with below it titanium and zirconium; on the other silicon, with germanium and tin. the characteristic form is an octahedron, rounded at the angles and a little depressed between the faces in consequence of the rounding; in fact, we did not, at first, recognize it as an octahedron, and we called it the "corded bale," the nearest likeness that struck us. the members of the group are all tetrads, and have eight funnels, opening on the eight faces of the octahedron. the first group is paramagnetic and positive; the corresponding one is diamagnetic and negative. the two groups are not closely allied in composition, though both titanium and tin have in common the five intersecting tetrahedra at their respective centres. [illustration: plate xv.] carbon (plate iii, , and xv, ) gives us the fundamental octahedral form, which becomes so masked in titanium and zirconium. as before said (p. ), the protrusion of the arms in these suggests the old rosicrucian symbol of the cross and rose, but they show at their ends the eight carbon funnels with their characteristic contents, and thus justify their relationship. the funnels are in pairs, one of each pair showing three "cigars," and having as its fellow a funnel in which the middle "cigar" is truncated, thus loosing one atom. each "cigar" has a leaf-like body at its base, and in the centre of the octahedron is a globe containing four atoms, each within its own wall; these lie on the dividing lines of the faces, and each holds a pair of the funnels together. it seems as though this atom had been economically taken from the "cigar" to form a link. this will be more clearly seen when we come to separate the parts from each other. it will be noticed that the atoms in the "leaves" at the base vary in arrangement, being alternately in a line and in a triangle. { left carbon: one pair of funnels { right { centre -- pairs of funnels of atoms atomic weight . number weight / . titanium (plate iii, , and xv, ) has a complete carbon atom distributed over the ends of its four arms, a pair of funnels with their linking atom being seen in each. then, in each arm, comes the elaborate body shown as _c_, with its eighty-eight atoms. a ring of twelve ovoids ( _d_) each holding within itself fourteen atoms, distributed among three contained globes--two quartets and a sextet--is a new device for crowding in material. lastly comes the central body ( _e_) of five intersecting tetrahedra, with a "cigar" at each of their twenty points--of which only fifteen can be shown in the diagram--and a ring of seven atoms round an eighth, that forms the minute centre of the whole. into this elaborate body one hundred and twenty-eight atoms are built. titanium: one carbon atom _c_ of atoms _d_ of " central globe ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . zirconium (plate xv, ) has exactly the same outline as titanium, the carbon atom is similarly distributed, and the central body is identical. only in _c_ and _d_ do we find a difference on comparing them with _c_ and d. the _c_ ovoid in zirconium shows no less than fifteen secondary globes within the five contained in the ovoid, and these, in turn, contain altogether sixty-nine smaller spheres, with two hundred and twelve atoms within them, arranged in pairs, triplets, quartets, quintets, a sextet and septets. finally, the ovoids of the ring are also made more elaborate, showing thirty-six atoms instead of fourteen. in this way the clever builders have piled up in zirconium no less than atoms. zirconium: one carbon atom _c_ of atoms _d_ of " central globe ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight . [illustration: plate xvi.] silicon (plate xvi, ) is at the head of the group which corresponds to carbon on the opposite turn of the lemniscate. it has the usual eight funnels, containing four ovoids in a circle, and a truncated "cigar" but no central body of any kind. all the funnels are alike. silicon: funnels of atoms atomic weight . number weight / . germanium (plate xvi, ) shows the eight funnels, containing each four segments (xvi, ), within which are three ovoids and a "cigar." in this case the funnels radiate from a central globe, formed of two intersecting tetrahedra, with "cigars" at each point enclosing a four-atomed globe. germanium: funnels of atoms central globe ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . tin (plate xvi, ) repeats the funnel of germanium, and the central globe we met with in titanium, of five intersecting tetrahedra, carrying twenty "cigars"; the latter, however, omits the eight-atomed centre of the globe that was found in titanium, and hence has one hundred and twenty atoms therein instead of one hundred and twenty-eight. tin, to make room for the necessary increase of atoms, adopts the system of spikes, which we met with in zinc (see plate ix, ); these spikes, like the funnels, radiate from the central globe, but are only six in number. the twenty-one-atomed cone at the head of the spike we have already seen in silver, and we shall again find it in iridium and platinum; the pillars are new in detail though not in principle, the contained globes yielding a series of a triplet, quintet, sextet, septet, sextet, quintet, triplet. tin: funnels of atoms spikes of " central globe ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . v.--the bars groups. [illustration: plate xvii.] here, for the first time, we find ourselves a little at issue with the accepted system of chemistry. fluorine stands at the head of a group--called the inter-periodic--whereof the remaining members are (see crookes' table, p. ), manganese, iron, cobalt, nickel; ruthenium, rhodium, palladium; osmium, iridium, platinum. if we take all these as group v, we find that fluorine and manganese are violently forced into company with which they have hardly any points of relationship, and that they intrude into an otherwise very harmonious group of closely similar composition. moreover, manganese reproduces the characteristic lithium "spike" and not the bars of those into whose company it is thrust, and it is thus allied with lithium, with which indeed it is almost identical. but lithium is placed by crookes at the head of a group, the other members of which are potassium, rubidium and cæsium (the last not examined). following these identities of composition, i think it is better to remove manganese and fluorine from their incongruous companions and place them with lithium and its allies as v _a_, the spike groups, marking, by the identity of number, similarities of arrangement which exist, and by the separation the differences of composition. it is worth while noting what sir william crookes, in his "genesis of the elements," remarks on the relations of the interperiodic group with its neighbours. he says: "these bodies are interperiodic because their atomic weights exclude them from the small periods into which the other elements fall, and because their chemical relations with some members of the neighbouring groups show that they are probably interperiodic in the sense of being in transition stages." group v in every case shows fourteen bars radiating from a centre as shown in iron, plate iv, . while the form remains unchanged throughout, the increase of weight is gained by adding to the number of atoms contained in a bar. the group is made up, not of single chemical elements, as in all other cases, but of sub-groups, each containing three elements, and the relations within each sub-group are very close; moreover the weights only differ by two atoms per bar, making a weight difference of twenty-eight in the whole. thus we have per bar:-- iron palladium nickel osmium cobalt iridium ruthenium platinum a rhodium platinum b it will be noticed (plate xvii, , , ,) that each bar has two sections, and that the three lower sections in iron, cobalt and nickel are identical; in the upper sections, iron has a cone of twenty-eight atoms, while cobalt and nickel have each three ovoids, and of these the middle ones alone differ, and that only in their upper globes, this globe being four-atomed in cobalt and six-atomed in nickel. the long ovoids within each bar revolve round the central axis of the bar, remaining parallel with it, while each spins on its own axis; the iron cone spins round as though impaled on the axis. bars of atoms atomic weight . number weight / . iron (plate iv, , and xvii, ): bars of atoms atomic weight . number weight / . cobalt (plate xvii, ): bars of atoms atomic weight . number weight / . nickel (plate xvii, ): (the weight of cobalt, as given in erdmann's _lehrbuch_, is . , but messrs. parker and sexton, in _nature_, august , , give the weight, as the result of their experiments, as . .) [illustration: plate xviii.] the next sub-group, ruthenium, rhodium, and palladium, has nothing to detain us. it will be observed that each bar contains eight segments, instead of the six of cobalt and nickel; that ruthenium and palladium have the same number of atoms in their upper ovoids, although in ruthenium a triplet and quartet represent the septet of palladium; and that in ruthenium and rhodium the lower ovoids are identical, though one has the order: sixteen, fourteen, sixteen, fourteen; and the other: fourteen, sixteen, fourteen, sixteen. one constantly asks oneself: what is the significance of these minute changes? further investigators will probably discover the answer. bars of atoms atomic weight . number weight / . ruthenium (plate xviii, ): bars of atoms atomic weight . number weight / . rhodium (plate xvii, ): bars of atoms atomic weight . number weight / . palladium (xviii, ): the third sub-group, osmium, iridium and platinum, is, of course, more complicated in its composition, but its builders succeed in preserving the bar form, gaining the necessary increase by a multiplication of contained spheres within the ovoids. osmium has one peculiarity: the ovoid marked _a_ (xviii, ) takes the place of axis in the upper half of the bar, and the three ovoids, marked _b_, revolve round it. in the lower half, the four ovoids, _c_, revolve round the central axis. in platinum, we have marked two forms as platinum a and platinum b, the latter having two four-atomed spheres (xviii, _b_) in the place of the two triplets marked a. it may well be that what we have called platinum b is not a variety of platinum, but a new element, the addition of two atoms in a bar being exactly that which separates the other elements within each of the sub-groups. it will be noticed that the four lower sections of the bars are identical in all the members of this sub-group, each ovoid containing thirty atoms. the upper ring of ovoids in iridium and platinum a are also identical, but for the substitution, in platinum a, of a quartet for a triplet in the second and third ovoids; their cones are identical, containing twenty-one atoms, like those of silver and tin. bars of atoms atomic weight . number weight / . osmium (plate xviii, ): bars of atoms atomic weight . number weight / . iridium (plate xviii, ): bars of atoms atomic weight . number weight / . platinum a (plate xviii, _a_): bars of atoms atomic weight ------ number weight / . platinum b (plate xviii, _b_): v a.--the spike groups. i place within this group lithium, potassium, rubidium, fluorine, and manganese, because of their similarity in internal composition. manganese has fourteen spikes, arranged as in the iron group, but radiating from a central globe. potassium has nine, rubidium has sixteen, in both cases radiating from a central globe. lithium (plate iv, ) and fluorine (plate iv, ) are the two types which dominate the group, lithium supplying the spike which is reproduced in all of them, and fluorine the "nitrogen balloon" which appears in all save lithium. it will be seen that the natural affinities are strongly marked. they are all monads and paramagnetic; lithium, potassium and rubidium are positive, while fluorine and manganese are negative. we seem thus to have a pair, corresponding with each other, as in other cases, and the interperiodic group is left interperiodic and congruous within itself. [illustration: plate xix.] lithium (plate iv, and plate xix, ) is a striking and beautiful form, with its upright cone, or spike, its eight radiating petals (_x_) at the base of the cone, and the plate-like support in the centre of which is a globe, on which the spike rests. the spike revolves swiftly on its axis, carrying the petals with it; the plate revolves equally swiftly in the opposite direction. within the spike are two globes and a long ovoid; the spheres within the globe revolve as a cross; within the ovoid are four spheres containing atoms arranged on tetrahedra, and a central sphere with an axis of three atoms surrounded by a spinning wheel of six. lithium: spike of atoms petals of atoms central globe of atoms ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . potassium (plate xix, ) consists of nine radiating lithium spikes, but has not petals; its central globe contains one hundred and thirty-four atoms, consisting of the "nitrogen balloon," encircled by six four-atomed spheres. potassium: bars of atoms central globe ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . (the weight, as determined by richards [_nature_, july , ] is . .) rubidium: (plate xix, ) adds an ovoid, containing three spheres--two triplets and a sextet--to the lithium spike, of which it has sixteen, and its central globe is composed of three "balloons." rubidium: spikes of atoms central globe ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . the corresponding negative group consists only of fluorine and manganese, so far as our investigations have gone. fluorine (plate iv, , and plate xvii, ) is a most peculiar looking object like a projectile, and gives one the impression of being ready to shoot off on the smallest provocation. the eight spikes, reversed funnels, coming to a point, are probably responsible for this warlike appearance. the remainder of the body is occupied by two "balloons." fluorine: spikes of atoms balloons ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . manganese (plate xvii, ) has fourteen spikes radiating from a central "balloon." manganese: spikes of atoms central balloon ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . * * * * * ix. we have now to consider the breaking up of the octahedral groups, and more and more, as we proceed, do we find that the most complicated arrangements are reducible to simple elements which are already familiar. carbon (plate iii, , and xv, ). [illustration] carbon is the typical octahedron, and a clear understanding of this will enable us to follow easily the constitution and disintegration of the various members of these groups. its appearance as a chemical atom is shown on plate iii, and see xv, . on the proto level the chemical atom breaks up into four segments, each consisting of a pair of funnels connected by a single atom; this is the proto element which appears at the end of each arm of the cross in titanium and zirconium. on the meta level the five six-atomed "cigars" show two neutral combinations, and the truncated "cigar" of five atoms is also neutral; the "leaves" yield two forms of triplet, five different types being thus yielded by each pair of funnels, exclusive of the linking atom. the hyper level has triplets, duads and units. titanium (plate iii, , and xv, , ). [illustration] on the proto level, the cross breaks up completely, setting free the pairs of funnels with the linking atom (_a_ and _b_), as in carbon, the four bodies marked _c_, the twelve marked _d_, and the central globe marked e. the latter breaks up again, setting free its five intersecting cigar-bearing tetrahedra, which follow their usual course (see occultum, p. ). the eight-atomed body in the centre makes a ring of seven atoms round a central one, like that in occultum (see p. , diagram b), from which it only differs in having the central atom, and breaks up similarly, setting the central atom free. the ovoid _c_ sets free its four contained globes, and the ovoid _d_ sets free the three within it. thus sixty-one proto elements are yielded by titanium. on the meta level, _c_ (titanium ) breaks up into star-like and cruciform bodies; the component parts of these are easily followed; on the hyper level, of the four forms of triplets one behaves as in carbon, and the others are shown, _a_, _b_ and _f_; the cruciform quintet yields a triplet and a duad, _c_ and _d_; the tetrahedra yield two triplets _g_ and _h_, and two units; the septet, a triplet _k_ and a quartet _j_. on the meta level, the bodies from _d_ behave like their equivalents in sodium, each _d_ shows two quartets and a sextet, breaking up, on the hyper level, into four duads and two triads. zirconium (plate xv, , ). zirconium reproduces in its _c_ the four forms that we have already followed in the corresponding _c_ of titanium, and as these are set free on the proto level, and follow the same course on the meta and hyper levels, we need not repeat them. the central globe of zirconium _c_ sets free its nine contained bodies; eight of these are similar and are figured in the diagram; it will be observed that the central body is the truncated "cigar" of carbon; their behaviour on the meta and hyper levels is easily followed there. the central sphere is also figured; the cigar follows its usual course, and its companions unite into a sextet and an octet. the _d_ ovoid liberates five bodies, four of which we have already seen in titanium, as the crosses and sextet of sodium, and which are figured under titanium; the four quartets within the larger globe also follow a sodium model, and are given again. silicon (plate xvi, ). [illustration] in silicon, the ovoids are set free from the funnels on the proto level, and the truncated "cigar," playing the part of a leaf, is also liberated. this, and the four "cigars," which escape from their ovoids, pass along their usual course. the quintet and quartet remain together, and form a nine-atomed body on the meta level, yielding a sextet and a triplet on the hyper. germanium (plate xvi, , ). the central globe, with its two "cigar"-bearing tetrahedra, need not delay us; the tetrahedra are set free and follow the occultum disintegration, and the central four atoms is the sodium cross that we had in titanium. the ovoids (xvi, ) are liberated on the proto level, and the "cigar," as usual, bursts its way through and goes along its accustomed path. the others remain linked on the meta level, and break up into two triangles and a quintet on the hyper. tin (plate xvi, , ). here we have only the spike to consider, as the funnels are the same as in germanium, and the central globe is that of titanium, omitting the eight atomed centre. the cone of the spike we have had in silver (see p. , may), and it is set free on the proto level. the spike, as in zinc, becomes a large sphere, with the single septet in the centre, the remaining six bodies circling round it on differing planes. they break up as shown. (tin is sn.) iron (plate iv, i, and xvii, ). [illustration] we have already dealt with the affinities of this peculiar group, and we shall see, in the disintegration, even more clearly, the close relationships which exist according to the classification which we here follow. the fourteen bars of iron break asunder on the proto level, and each sets free its contents--a cone and three ovoids, which as usual, become spheres. the twenty-eight-atomed cone becomes a four-sided figure, and the ovoids show crystalline contents. they break up, on the meta level as shown in the diagram, and are all reduced to triplets and duads on the hyper level. cobalt (plate xvii, ). the ovoids in cobalt are identical with those of iron; the higher ovoids, which replace the cone of iron, show persistently the crystalline forms so noticeable throughout this group. nickel (plate xvii, ). the two additional atoms in a bar, which alone separate nickel from cobalt, are seen in the upper sphere of the central ovoid. ruthenium (plate xviii, ). the lower ovoids in ruthenium are identical in composition, with those of iron, cobalt and nickel and may be studied under iron. the upper ones only differ by the addition of a triplet. rhodium (plate xviii, ). rhodium has a septet, which is to be seen in the _c_ of titanium (see _k_ in the titanium diagram) and differs only in this from its group. palladium (plate xviii, ). in palladium this septet appears as the upper sphere in every ovoid of the upper ring. osmium (plate xviii, ). we have here no new constituents; the ovoids are set free on the proto level and the contained globes on the meta, all being of familiar forms. the cigars, as usual, break free on the proto level, and leave their ovoid with only four contained spheres, which unite into two nine-atomed bodies as in silicon (see above). iridium (plate xviii, .) the twenty-one-atomed cone of silver here reappears, and its proceedings may be followed under that metal (see diagram, p. , may). the remaining bodies call for no remark. platinum (plate xviii, ). again the silver cone is with us. the remaining bodies are set free on the proto level, and their contained spheres on the meta. lithium (plate iv, , and xix, ). [illustration] here we have some new combinations, which recur persistently in its allies. the bodies _a_, in plate xix, , are at the top and bottom of the ellipse; they come to right and left of it in the proto state, and each makes a twelve-atomed body on the meta level. the five bodies within the ellipse, three monads and two sextets, show two which we have had before: _d_, which behaves like the quintet and quartet in silicon, after their junction, and _b_, which we have had in iron. the two bodies _c_ are a variant of the square-based pyramid, one atom at the apex, and two at each of the other angles. the globe, _e_, is a new form, the four tetrahedra of the proto level making a single twelve-atomed one on the meta. the body _a_ splits up into triplets on the hyper; _b_ and _d_ follow their iron and silicon models; _c_ yields four duads and a unit; _e_ breaks into four quartets. potassium (plate xix, ). potassium repeats the lithium spike; the central globe shows the "nitrogen balloon," which we already know, and which is surrounded on the proto level with six tetrahedra, which are set free on the meta and behave as in cobalt. hence we have nothing new. rubidium (plate xix, ). again the lithium spike, modified slightly by the introduction of an ovoid, in place of the top sphere; the forms here are somewhat unusual, and the triangles of the sextet revolve round each other on the meta level; all the triads break up on the hyper level into duads and units. fluorine (plate iv, , and plate xvii, ). the reversed funnels of fluorine split asunder on the proto level, and are set free, the "balloons" also floating off independently. the funnels, as usual, become spheres, and on the meta level set free their contained bodies, three quartets and a triplet from each of the eight. the balloons disintegrate in the usual way. manganese (plate xvii, ). manganese offers us nothing new, being composed of "lithium spikes" and "nitrogen balloons." * * * * * x. vi.--the star groups. we have now reached the last of the groups as arranged on sir william crookes' lemniscates, that forming the "neutral" column; it is headed by helium, which is _sui generis_. the remainder are in the form of a flat star (see plate iv, ), with a centre formed of five intersecting and "cigar"-bearing tetrahedra, and six radiating arms. ten of these have been observed, five pairs in which the second member differs but slightly from the first; they are: neon, meta-neon; argon, metargon; krypton, meta-krypton; xenon, meta-xenon; kalon, meta-kalon; the last pair and the meta forms are not yet discovered by chemists. these all show the presence of a periodic law; taking an arm of the star in each of the five pairs, we find the number of atoms to be as follows :-- it will be observed that the meta form in each case shows seven more atoms than its fellow. [illustration: plate xx.] helium (plate iii, , and plate xx, ) shows two "cigar"-bearing tetrahedra, and two hydrogen triangles, the tetrahedra revolving round an egg-shaped central body, and the triangles spinning on their own axes while performing a similar revolution. the whole has an attractively airy appearance, as of a fairy element. helium: two tetrahedra of atoms two triangles of atoms central egg ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . neon (plate xx, and ) has six arms of the pattern shown in , radiating from the central globe. neon: six arms of atoms central tetrahedra ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . meta-neon (plate xx, and ) differs from its comrade by the insertion of an additional atom in each of the groups included in the second body within its arm, and substituting a seven-atomed group for one of the triplets in neon. meta-neon: six arms of atoms central tetrahedra ---- total ---- atomic weight ---- number weight / . argon (plate xx, , and ) shows within its arms the _b_ which we met in nitrogen, yttrium, vanadium and niobium, but not the "balloon," which we shall find with it in krypton and its congeners. argon: six arms of atoms central tetrahedra ---- total ---- atomic weight . number weight / . metargon (plate xx, , and ) again shows only an additional seven atoms in each arm. metargon: six arms of atoms central tetrahedra ---- total ---- atomic weight ---- number weight / [illustration: plate xxi.] krypton (plate xxi, and , and plate xx, and ) contains the nitrogen "balloon," elongated by its juxtaposition to _b_ . the central tetrahedra appear as usual. krypton: six arms of atoms central tetrahedra ----- total ----- atomic weight . number weight / . meta-krypton differs only from krypton by the substitution of _z_ for _y_ in each arm of the star. meta-krypton: six arms of atoms central tetrahedra ----- total ----- atomic weight ----- number weight / . xenon (plate xxi, and , and plate xx, and ) has a peculiarity shared only by kalon, that _x_ and _y_ are asymmetrical, the centre of one having three atoms and the centre of the other two. is this done in order to preserve the difference of seven from its comrade? xenon: six arms of atoms central tetrahedra ----- total ----- atomic weight . number weight / . meta-xenon differs from xenon only by the substitution of two _z_'s for _x_ and _y_. meta-xenon: six arms of atoms central tetrahedra ----- total ----- atomic weight ----- number weight / kalon (plate xxi, and , and plate xx, and ) has a curious cone, possessing a kind of tail which we have not observed elsewhere; _x_ and _y_ show the same asymmetry as in xenon. kalon: six arms of atoms central tetrahedra ---- total ---- atomic weight ---- number weight / . meta-kalon again substitutes two _z_'s for _x_ and _y_. meta-kalon: six arms of atoms central tetrahedra ---- total ---- atomic weight ---- number weight / only a few atoms of kalon and meta-kalon have been found in the air of a fair-sized room. it does not seem worth while to break up these elements, for their component parts are so familiar. the complicated groups--_a_ , _b_ and _c_ --have all been fully dealt with in preceding pages. * * * * * there remains now only radium, of the elements which we have, so far, examined, and that will be now described and will bring to an end this series of observations. a piece of close and detailed work of this kind, although necessarily imperfect, will have its value in the future, when science along its own lines shall have confirmed these researches. it will have been observed that our weights, obtained by counting, are almost invariably slightly in excess of the orthodox ones: it is interesting that in the latest report of the international commission (november , ), printed in the _proceedings of the chemical society of london_, vol. xxiv, no. , and issued on january , , the weight of hydrogen is now taken at . instead of at . this would slightly raise all the orthodox weights; thus aluminium rises from . to . , antimony from . to . , and so on. * * * * * xi. radium. [illustration: plate xxii.] radium has the form of a tetrahedron, and it is in the tetrahedral groups (see article iv) that we shall find its nearest congeners; calcium, strontium, chromium, molybdenum resemble it most closely in general internal arrangements, with additions from zinc and cadmium. radium has a complex central sphere (plate xxii), extraordinarily vivid and living; the whirling motion is so rapid that continued accurate observation is very difficult; the sphere is more closely compacted than the centre-piece in other elements, and is much larger in proportion to the funnels and spikes than is the case with the elements above named; reference to plate viii will show that in these the funnels are much larger than the centres, whereas in radium the diameter of the sphere and the length of the funnel or spike are about equal. its heart consists of a globe containing seven atoms, which assume on the proto level the prismatic form shown in cadmium, magnesium and selenium. this globe is the centre of two crosses, the arms of which show respectively three-atomed and two-atomed groups. round this sphere are arranged, as on radii, twenty-four segments, each containing five bodies--four quintets and a septet--and six loose atoms, which float horizontally across the mouth of the segment; the whole sphere has thus a kind of surface of atoms. on the proto level these six atoms in each segment gather together and form a "cigar." in the rush of the streams presently to be described one of these atoms is occasionally torn away, but is generally, if not always, replaced by the capture of another which is flung into the vacated space. each of the four funnels opens, as usual, on one face of the tetrahedron, and they resemble the funnels of strontium and molybdenum but contain three pillars instead of four (plate xxiii). they stand within the funnel as though at the angles of a triangle, not side by side. the contained bodies, though numerous, contain forms which are all familiar. the spikes alternate with the funnels, and point to the angles of the tetrahedron as in zinc and cadmium; each spike contains three "lithium spikes" (see plate xix) with a ten-atomed cone or cap at the top, floating above the three (plate xxiv). the "petals" or "cigars" of lithium exist in the central globe in the floating atoms, and the four-atomed groups which form the lithium "plate" may be seen in the funnels, so that the whole of lithium appears in radium. so much for its composition. but a very peculiar result, so far unobserved elsewhere, arises from the extraordinarily rapid whirling of the central sphere. a kind of vortex is formed, and there is a constant and powerful indraught through the funnels. by this, particles are drawn in from without, and these are swept round with the sphere, their temperature becoming much raised, and they are then violently shot out through the spikes. it is these jets which occasionally sweep away an atom from the surface of the sphere. these "particles" may be atoms, or they may be bodies from any of the etheric levels; in some cases these bodies break up and form new combinations. in fact lithium seems like a kind of vortex of creative activity, drawing in, breaking up, recombining, shooting forth--a most extraordinary element. radium: funnels of atoms spikes of atoms central sphere ---- total ---- atomic weight ---- number weight / . [illustration: plate xxiv.] [illustration: plate xxiii.] * * * * * appendix. the Ã�ther of space. much discussion has taken place, especially between physicists and chemists, over the nature of the substances with which all space must, according to scientific hypothesis, be filled. one side contends that it is infinitely thinner than the thinnest gas, absolutely frictionless and without weight; the other asserts that it is denser than the densest solid. in this substance the ultimate atoms of matter are thought to float, like motes in a sunbeam, and light, heat and electricity are supposed to be its vibrations. theosophical investigators, using methods not at the disposal of physical science, have found that this hypothesis includes under one head two entirely different and widely separated sets of phenomena. they have been able to deal with states of matter higher than the gaseous and have observed that it is by means of vibrations of this finer matter that light, heat and electricity manifest themselves to us. seeing that matter in these higher states thus performs the functions attributed to the ether of science, they have (perhaps unadvisedly) called these states etheric, and have thus left themselves without a convenient name for that substance which fulfils the other part of the scientific requirements. let us for the moment name this substance _koilon_, since it fills what we are in the habit of calling empty space. what mûlaprakrti, or "mother-matter," is to the inconceivable totality of universes, koilon is to our particular universe--not to our solar system merely but to the vast unit which includes all visible suns. between koilon and mûlaprakrti there must be various stages, but we have at present no direct means of estimating their number or of knowing anything whatever about them. in an ancient occult treatise, however, we read of a "colorless spiritual fluid" "which exists everywhere and forms the first foundation on which our solar system is built. outside the latter, it is found in its pristine purity only between the stars [suns] of the universe.... as its substance is of a different kind from that known on earth, the inhabitants of the latter, seeing _through it_, believe, in their illusion and ignorance, that it is empty space. there is not one finger's breadth of void space in the whole boundless universe."[ ] "the mother-substance" is said, in this treatise, to produce this æther of space as its seventh grade of density, and all objective suns are said to have this for their "substance." to any power of sight which we can bring to bear upon it, this koilon appears to be homogeneous, though it is probably nothing of the kind, since homogeneity can belong to the mother-substance alone. it is out of all proportion denser than any other substance known to us, infinitely denser--if we may be pardoned the expression; so much denser that it seems to belong to another type, or order, of density. but now comes the startling part of the investigation: we might expect matter to be a densification of this koilon; it is nothing of the kind. matter is not koilon, but _the absence of koilon_, and at first sight, matter and space appear to have changed places, and emptiness has become solidity, solidity has become emptiness. to help us to understand this clearly let us examine the ultimate atom of the physical plane (see pp. - ). it is composed of ten rings or wires, which lie side by side, but never touch one another. if one of these wires be taken away from the atom, and be, as it were, untwisted from its peculiar spiral shape and laid out on a flat surface, it will be seen that it is a complete circle--a tightly twisted endless coil. this coil is itself a spiral containing turns; it can be unwound, and it will then make a much larger circle. this process of unwinding may be again performed, and a still bigger circle obtained, and this can be repeated till the seven sets of spirillæ are all unwound, and we have a huge circle of the tiniest imaginable dots, like pearls threaded on an invisible string. these dots are so inconceivably small that many millions of them are needed to make one ultimate physical atom, and while the exact number is not readily ascertainable, several different lines of calculation agree in indicating it as closely approximate to the almost inconceivable total of fourteen thousand millions. where figures are so huge, direct counting is obviously impossible, but fortunately the different parts of the atom are sufficiently alike to enable us to make an estimate in which the margin of error is not likely to be very great. the atom consists of ten wires, which divide themselves naturally into two groups--the three which are thicker and more prominent, and the seven thinner ones which correspond to the colors and planets. these latter appear to be identical in constitution though the forces flowing through them must differ, since each responds most readily to its own special set of vibrations. by actual counting it has been discovered that the numbers of coils or spirillæ of the first order in each wire is ; and the proportion of the different orders of spirillæ to one another is equal in all cases that have been examined, and correspond with the number of dots in the ultimate spirillæ of the lowest order. the ordinary sevenfold rule works quite accurately with the thinner coils, but there is a very curious variation with regard to the set of three. as may be seen from the drawings, these are obviously thicker and more prominent, and this increase of size is produced by an augmentation (so slight as to be barely perceptible) in the proportion to one another of the different orders of spirillæ and in the number of dots in the lowest. this augmentation, amounting at present to not more than . of the whole of each case, suggests the unexpected possibility that this portion of the atom may be somehow actually undergoing a change--may in fact be in process of growth, as there is reason to suppose that these three thicker spirals originally resembled the others. since observation shows us that each physical atom is represented by forty-nine astral atoms, each astral atom by forty-nine mental atoms, and each mental atom by forty-nine of those on the buddhic plane, we have here evidently several terms of a regular progressive series, and the natural presumption is that the series continues where we are no longer able to observe it. further probability is lent to this assumption by the remarkable fact that--if we assume one dot to be what corresponds to an atom on the seventh or highest of our planes (as is suggested in _the ancient wisdom_, p. ) and then suppose the law of multiplication to begin its operation, so that dots shall form the atom of the next or sixth plane, that of the fifth, and so on--we find that the number indicated for the physical atom ( ) corresponds almost exactly with the calculation based upon the actual counting of the coils. indeed, it seems probable that but for the slight growth of the three thicker wires of the atom the correspondence would have been perfect. it must be noted that a physical atom cannot be directly broken up into astral atoms. if the unit of force which whirls those millions of dots into the complicated shape of a physical atom be pressed back by an effort of will over the threshold of the astral plane, the atom disappears instantly, for the dots are released. but the same unit of force, working now upon a higher level, expresses itself not through one astral atom, but through a group of . if the process of pressing back the unit of force is repeated, so that it energises upon the mental plane, we find the group there enlarged to the number of of those higher atoms. upon the buddhic plane the number of atoms formed by the same amount of force is very much greater still--probably the cube of instead of the square, though they have not been actually counted. therefore one physical atom is not _composed of_ forty-nine astral or mental atoms, but _corresponds_ to them, in the sense that the force which manifests through it would show itself on those higher planes by energising respectively those numbers of atoms. the dots, or beads, seem to be the constituents of all matter of which we, at present, know anything; astral, mental and buddhic atoms are built of them, so we may fairly regard them as fundamental units, the basis of matter. these units are all alike, spherical and absolutely simple in construction. though they are the basis of all matter, they are not themselves matter; they are not blocks but bubbles. they do not resemble bubbles floating in the air, which consist of a thin film of water separating the air within them from the air outside, so that the film has both an outer and an inner surface. their analogy is rather with the bubbles that we see rising in water, before they reach the surface, bubbles which may be said to have only one surface--that of the water which is pushed back by the contained air. just as such bubbles are not water, but are precisely the spots from which water is absent, so these units are not koilon, but the absence of koilon--the only spots where it is not--specks of nothingness floating in it, so to speak, for the interior of these space-bubbles is an absolute void to the highest power of vision that we can turn upon them. that is the startling, well-nigh incredible, fact. matter is nothingness, the space obtained by pressing back an infinitely dense substance; fohat "digs holes in space" of a verity, and the holes are the airy nothingnesses, the bubbles, of which "solid" universes are built. what are they, then, these bubbles, or rather, what is their content, the force which can blow bubbles in a substance of infinite density? the ancients called that force "the breath," a graphic symbol, which seems to imply that they who used it had seen the kosmic process, had seen the logos when he breathed into the "waters of space," and made the bubbles which build universes. scientists may call this "force" by what names they will--names are nothing; to us, theosophists, it is the breath of the logos, we know not whether of the logos of this solar system or of a yet mightier being; the latter would seem the more likely, since in the above-quoted occult treatise all visible suns are said to have this as their substance. the breath of the logos, then, is the force which fills these spaces; his the force which holds them open against the tremendous pressure of the koilon; they are full of his life, of himself, and everything we call matter, on however high or low a plane, is instinct with divinity; these units of force, of life, the bricks with which he builds his universe, are his very life scattered through space; truly is it written: "i established this universe with a portion of myself." and when he draws in his breath, the waters of space will close in again, and the universe will have disappeared. it is only a breath. the outbreathing which makes these bubbles is quite distinct from, and long antecedent to, the three outpourings, or life-waves, so familiar to the theosophical student. the first life-wave catches up these bubbles, and whirls them into the various arrangements which we call the atoms of the several planes, and aggregates them into the molecules, and on the physical plane into the chemical elements. the worlds are built out of these voids, these emptinesses, which seem to us "nothing" but are divine force. it is matter made from the privation of matter. how true were h.p.b.'s statements in "the secret doctrine": "matter is nothing but an aggregation of atomic forces" (iii, ); "buddha taught that the primitive substance is eternal and unchangeable. its vehicle is the pure luminous æther, the boundless infinite space, not a void, resulting from the absence of all forms, but on the contrary, the foundation of all forms" (iii, ). how vividly, how unmistakably this knowledge brings home to us the great doctrine of mâyâ, the transitoriness and unreality of earthly things, the utterly deceptive nature of appearances! when the candidate for initiation sees (not merely believes, remember, but actually _sees_) that what has always before seemed to him empty space is in reality a solid mass of inconceivable density, and that the matter which has appeared to be the one tangible and certain basis of things is not only by comparison tenuous as gossamer (the "web" spun by "father-mother"), but is actually composed of emptiness and nothingness--is itself the very negation of matter--then for the first time he thoroughly appreciates the valuelessness of the physical senses as guides to the truth. yet even more clearly still stands out the glorious certainty of the immanence of the divine; not only is everything ensouled by the logos, but even its visible manifestation is literally part of him, is built of his very substance, so that matter as well as spirit becomes sacred to the student who really understands. the koilon in which all these bubbles are formed undoubtedly represents a part, and perhaps the principal part, of what science describes as the luminiferous æther. whether it is actually the bearer of the vibrations of light and heat through interplanetary space is as yet undetermined. it is certain that these vibrations impinge upon and are perceptible to our bodily senses only through the etheric matter of the physical plane. but this by no means proves that they are conveyed through space in the same manner, for we know very little of the extent to which the physical etheric matter exists in interplanetary and interstellar space, though the examination of meteoric matter and kosmic dust shows that at least some of it is scattered there. the scientific theory is that the æther has some quality which enables it to transmit at a certain definite velocity transverse waves of all lengths and intensities--that velocity being what is commonly called the speed of light, , miles per second. quite probably this may be true of koilon, and if so it must also be capable of communicating those waves to bubbles or aggregations of bubbles, and before the light can reach our eyes there must be a downward transference from plane to plane similar to that taking place when a thought awakens emotion or causes action. in a recent pamphlet on "the density of Ã�ther," sir oliver lodge remarks:-- "just as the ratio of mass to volume is small in the case of a solar system or a nebula or a cobweb, i have been driven to think that the observed mechanical density of matter is probably an excessively small fraction of the total density of the substance or æther contained in the space which it thus partially occupies--the substance of which it may hypothetically be held to be composed. "thus, for instance, consider a mass of platinum, and assume that its atoms are composed of electrons, or of some structures not wholly dissimilar: the space which these bodies actually fill, as compared with the whole space which in a sense they 'occupy,' is comparable to one ten-millionth of the whole, even inside each atom; and the fraction is still smaller if it refers to the visible mass. so that a kind of minimum estimate of ætherial density, on this basis, would be something like ten thousand million times that of platinum." and further on he adds that this density may well turn out to be fifty thousand million times that of platinum. "the densest matter known," he says, "is trivial and gossamer-like compared with the unmodified æther in the same space." incredible as this seems to our ordinary ideas, it is undoubtedly an understatement rather than an exaggeration of the true proportion as observed in the case of koilon. we shall understand how this can be so if we remember that koilon seems absolutely homogeneous and solid even when examined by a power of magnification which makes physical atoms appear in size and arrangement like cottages scattered over a lonely moor, and when we further add to this the recollection that the bubbles of which these atoms in turn are composed are themselves what may be not inaptly called fragments of nothingness. in the same pamphlet sir oliver lodge makes a very striking estimate of the intrinsic energy of the æther. he says: "the total output of a million-kilowatt power station for thirty million years exists permanently, and at present inaccessibly in every cubic millimetre of space." here again he is probably underestimating the stupendous truth. it may naturally be asked how, if all this be so, it is possible that we can move about freely in a solid ten thousand million times denser, as sir oliver lodge says, than platinum. the obvious answer is that, where densities differ sufficiently, they can move through each other with perfect freedom; water or air can pass through cloth; air can pass through water; an astral form passes unconsciously through a physical wall, or through an ordinary human body; many of us have seen an astral form walk through a physical, neither being conscious of the passage; it does not matter whether we say that a ghost has passed through a wall, or a wall has passed through a ghost. a gnome passes freely through a rock, and walks about within the earth, as comfortably as we walk about in the air. a deeper answer is that consciousness can recognize only consciousness, that since we are of the nature of the logos we can sense only those things which are also of his nature. these bubbles are his essence, his life, and, therefore, we, who also are part of him, can see the matter which is built of his substance, for all forms are but manifestations of him. the koilon is to us non-manifestation, because we have not unfolded powers which enable us to cognise it, and it may be the manifestation of a loftier order of logoi, utterly beyond our ken. as none of our investigators can raise his consciousness to the highest plane of our universe, the âdi-tattva plane, it may be of interest to explain how it is possible for them to see what may very probably be the atom of that plane. that this may be understood it is essential to remember that the power of magnification by means of which these experiments are conducted is quite apart from the faculty of functioning upon one or other of the planes. the latter is the result of a slow and gradual unfoldment of the self, while the former is merely a special development of one of the many powers latent in man. all the planes are round us here, just as much as any other point in space, and if a man sharpens his sight until he can see their tiniest atoms he can make a study of them, even though he may as yet be far from the level necessary to enable him to understand and function upon the higher planes as a whole, or to come into touch with the glorious intelligences who gather those atoms into vehicles for themselves. a partial analogy may be found in the position of the astronomer with regard to the stellar universe, or let us say the milky way. he can observe its constituent parts and learn a good deal about them along various lines, but it is absolutely impossible for him to see it as a whole from outside, or to form any certain conception of its true shape, and to know what it really is. suppose that the universe is, as many of the ancients thought, some inconceivably vast being, it is utterly impossible for us, here in the midst of it, to know what that being is or is doing, for that would mean raising ourselves to a height comparable with his; but we may make extensive and detailed examination of such particles of his body as happen to be within our reach, for that means only the patient use of powers and machinery already at our command. let it not be supposed that, in thus unfolding a little more of the wonders of divine truth by pushing our investigations to the very farthest point at present possible to us, we in any way alter or modify all that has been written in theosophical books of the shape and constitution of the physical atom, and of the wonderful and orderly arrangements by which it is grouped into the various chemical molecules; all this remains entirely unaffected. nor is any change introduced as regards the three outpourings from the logos, and the marvellous facility with which the matter of the various planes is by them moulded into forms for the service of the evolving life. but if we wish to have a right view of the realities underlying manifestation in this universe, we must to a considerable extent reverse the ordinary conception as to what this matter essentially is. instead of thinking of its ultimate constituents as solid specks floating in a void, we must realise that it is the apparent void itself which is solid, and that the specks are but bubbles on it. that fact once grasped, all the rest remains as before. the relative position of what we have hitherto called matter and force is still for us the same as ever; it is only that, on closer examination, both of these conceptions prove to be variants of force, the one ensouling combinations of the other, and the real "matter," koilon, is seen to be something which has hitherto been altogether outside our scheme of thought. in view of this marvellous distribution of himself in "space," the familiar concept of the "sacrifice of the logos" takes on a new depth and splendour; this is his "dying in matter," his "perpetual sacrifice," and it may be the very glory of the logos that he can sacrifice himself to the uttermost by thus permeating and making himself one with that portion of koilon which he chooses as the field of his universe. what koilon is, what its origin, whether it is itself changed by the divine breath which is poured into it--does "dark space" thus become "bright space" at the beginning of a manifestation?--these are questions to which we cannot at present even indicate answers. perchance an intelligent study of the great scriptures of the world may yield replies. * * * * * notes [ ] see footnote in next chapter. [ ] the drawings of the elements were done by two theosophical artists, herr hecker and mrs. kirby, whom we sincerely thank; the diagrams, showing the details of the construction of each "element," we owe to the most painstaking labour of mr. jinarâjadâsa, without whose aid it would have been impossible for us to have presented clearly and definitely the complicated arrangements by which the chemical elements are built up. we have also to thank him for a number of most useful notes, implying much careful research, which are incorporated in the present series, and without which we could not have written these papers. [ ] the atomic sub-plane. [ ] the astral plane. [ ] known to theosophists as fohat, the force of which all the physical plane forces--electricities--are differentiations. [ ] when fohat "digs holes in space." [ ] the first life-wave, the work of the third logos. [ ] a mâyâ, truly. [ ] by a certain action of the will, known to students, it is possible to make such a space by pressing back and walling off the matter of space. [ ] again the astral world. [ ] each spirilla is animated by the life-force of a plane, and four are at present normally active, one for each round. their activity in an individual may be prematurely forced by yoga practice. [ ] "the ten numbers of the sun. these are called dis--in reality space--the forces spread in space, three of which are contained in the sun's atman, or seventh principle, and seven are the rays shot out by the sun." the atom is a sun in miniature in its own universe of the inconceivably minute. each of the seven whorls is connected with one of the planetary logoi, so that each planetary logos has a direct influence playing on the very matter of which all things are constructed. it may be supposed that the three, conveying electricity, a differentiation of fohat, are related to the solar logoi. [ ] the action of electricity opens up ground of large extent, and cannot be dealt with here. does it act on the atoms themselves, or on molecules, or sometimes on one and sometimes on the other? in soft iron, for instance, are the internal arrangements of the chemical atom forcibly distorted, and do they elastically return to their original relations when released? and in steel is the distortion permanent? in all the diagrams the heart-shaped body, exaggerated to show the depression caused by the inflow and the point caused by the outflow, is a single atom. [ ] these sub-planes are familiar to the theosophist as gaseous, etheric, super-etheric, sub-atomic, atomic; or as gas, ether , ether , ether , ether . [ ] it must be remembered that the diagrams represent three-dimensional objects, and the atoms are not all on a plane, necessarily. [ ] that is, the surrounding magnetic fields strike on each other. [ ] the fifth member of this group was not sought for. [ ] this, with references which appear later (pp. , , , etc.), relates to articles which appeared in the _theosophist_, . [ ] since writing the above i have noticed, in the _london, edinburgh and dublin philosophical magazine and journal of science_, conducted by dr. john joly and mr. william francis, in an article entitled "evolution and devolution of the elements," the statement that it is probable that in "the nebulous state of matter there are four substances, the first two being unknown upon earth, the third being hydrogen and the fourth ... helium. it also seems probable that ... hydrogen, the two unknown elements, and helium are the four original elements from which all the other elements form. to distinguish them from the others we will term them protons." this is suggestive as regards hydrogen, but does not help us with regard to oxygen and nitrogen. [ ] theosophists call them nature-spirits, and often use the mediæval term elementals. beings concerned with the elements truly are they, even with chemical elements. [ ] quoted in "the secret doctrine." h.p. blavatsky, i, . booksmiths at http://www.ebookforge.net _true occult knowledge gives you practical power and strength_ the human aura astral colors and thought forms by swami panchadasi printed by yoga publication society copyright, copyright yogi publication society contents chapter i. what is the human aura the subtle, invisible emanation radiating from every individual. an ethereal radiation. the egg-shaped human nebula. psychic atmosphere sensed by everyone, but seen by but few. the clairvoyant vision. the phosphorescent flame, and luminous cloud. the colors in the aura and what they mean. effect of mental states, emotion and passion, upon its aura. the human aura is a very important and interesting phase of every personality. the finer forces, the most powerful. chapter ii. the prana aura prana, the vital force, life essence. how it affects the human aura. health aura. physical aura. health magnetism. peculiar appearance of prana aura. how animals follow trails of prana aura particles. the tiny electric sparks, and vibratory movements. how one may perceive the vibrations of prana aura. interesting experiments. seeing prana aura by ordinary vision. prana aura and magnetic healing. chapter iii. the astral colors each mental or emotional state has its own astral hue, tint, shade or color. the primary colors, red, blue and yellow. the secondary colors, green, orange and purple. the combinations of olive, russet and citrine. black and white, and how formed. key to the astral colors. red the physical color; blue, the spiritual; yellow, the mental. white and black the two poles of spirituality. rainbow astral colors. whirlpools of flame. flashes of astral light. a wonderful phenomena. practice will enable almost everyone to perceive plainly the outlines of the prana aura. chapter iv. the astral colors (continued) interpretations of the astral color group. the red group. the varying reds of vitality and health; the shades of love; high and low; the crimson of sensuality; the scarlet plane of anger and passion. the yellow group of orange, and the pride of intellect. the golden yellow of intellectual attainment. the haloes of the great teachers. the lemon hue of inferior intellect. the green group. the high and low greens. the green of love of nature. the green of altruism. the green of sympathy. the dull green of insincerity and deceit. the ruddy green of jealousy and malice. the blue group. the great souls of the spiritual and religious emotions. the brown group. the gray group. black group. white group. the great white light. chapter v. the aura kaleidoscope what the astral body is composed of. also the etheric double. the ever changing clouds of aura coloring. placid scenes and furious storms of the aura. opalescent effects. the pearly color of the etheric substance. the aura of mental activity. the aura of reverie or sleep. the aura of anger and passion. the aura of hate. the aura of love. the aura of churches, prisons, hospitals and places of vice. the aura of character and of passing feeling. astral atmospheres of buildings and places. collective and composite auras. a key to some great and deep occult teachings, and esoteric mysteries. how the trained occultist is able to ascertain the character, and tendencies of a person. chapter vi. thought form what a thought form is and what it is made of. how thought forms are created. how thought forms travel. how thought forms affect persons. why some thought forms are semi-living, elemental forces. various forms and classes of thought forms. full description of their character, appearance and effect. thought form whirls and swirls. rotation thought forms. thought form whirlpools. explosive thought forms. thought form bombs. octopus thought form. how thought forms are projected and why they travel. a wonderful study of a fascinating subject. chapter vii. psychic influence of color action and re-action. effect of color on mental states and emotions. how certain tints affect persons favorably and unfavorably. the calming effect of restful greens. "seeing red." gloomy black. depressing grays. angry reds. soothing blues. illuminating yellows. the psychology of color. healing effect of colors. the principles of healing by colors. effect of color upon character and morals. color in child life. interesting and instructive information and teaching. chapter viii. auric magnetism human magnetism. the auric reservoir of magnetism. magnetic healing, how caused and why it occurs. use of its hands. flow of etheric force. new methods of magnetic healing. use of auric colors. analysis and full explanation. absent treatment by auric color vibration. tables of auric healing colors, showing effect on nervous system, blood and organs. helpful suggestion in auric color healing. how to treat yourself and others by this method. healing by the great white light. chapter ix. developing the aura how to build up a strong, positive aura. how to flood the aura with the right vibration. how to influence the color in the aura. "holding the thought." reflecting color states. principles of occult color re-action. self-analysis. self-treatment for character and qualities. effect of visualizing colors. how to get the keynote of color vibrations. the key of success. chapter x. the protective aura a forbidden subject plainly discussed. need of occult protection. how to change the aura so that it will repel physical contagion and psychic attacks. how to guard the body by auric colors. how to energize and illumine the mind, so as to protect against mental influences. the protective golden aura. how to protect your emotional nature from undesirable vibrations. the great auric circle of protection. the oldest occultist's instructions regarding building up of the protective aura. how to fill the aura with vibrations of health and physical strength. how to protect yourself from the low passions and feelings of others. the aura of great moral teachers. how those in ignorance of occult laws have been led from the moral path. the auric circle of protection. the crumbs of teaching scattered through this book, other than those concerning the aura. those for whom these teachings are intended will recognize and appreciate them. a shelter for soul, mind and body against psychic influence. an infallible armor against all force of attack. the great white light. words from the master. chapter i. what is the human aura? the above question is frequently asked the student of occultism by some one who has heard the term but who is unfamiliar with its meaning. simple as the question may seem, it is by no means easy to answer it, plainly and clearly in a few words, unless the hearer already has a general acquaintance with the subject of occult science. let us commence at the beginning, and consider the question from the point of view of the person who has just heard the term for the first time. the dictionaries define the word aura as: "any subtle, invisible emanation or exhalation." the english authorities, as a rule, attribute the origin of the word to a latin term meaning "air," but the hindu authorities insist that it had its origin in the sanscrit root _ar_, meaning the spoke of a wheel, the significance being perceived when we remember the fact that the human aura radiates from the body of the individual in a manner similar to the radiation of the spokes of a wheel from the hub thereof. the sanscrit origin of the term is the one preferred by occultists, although it will be seen that the idea of an aerial emanation, indicated by the latin root, is not foreign to the real significance of the term. be the real origin of the term what it may, the idea of the human aura is one upon which all occultists are in full agreement and harmony, and the mention of which is found in all works upon the general subject of occultism. so we shall begin by a consideration of the main conception thereof, as held by all advanced occultists, ancient and modern, omitting little points of theoretical variance between the different schools. briefly, then, the human aura may be described as a fine, ethereal radiation or emanation surrounding each and every living human being. it extends from two to three feet, in all directions, from the body. it assumes an oval shape--a great egg-shaped nebula surrounding the body on all sides for a distance of two or three feet. this aura is sometimes referred to, in ordinary terms, as the "psychic atmosphere" of a person, or as his "magnetic atmosphere." this atmosphere or aura is apparent to a large percentage of persons in the sense of the psychic awareness generally called "feeling," though the term is not a clear one. the majority of persons are more or less aware of that subtle something about the personality of others, which can be sensed or felt in a clear though unusual way when the other persons are near by, even though they may be out of the range of the vision. being outside of the ordinary range of the five senses, we are apt to feel that there is something queer or uncanny about these feelings of projected personality. but every person, deep in his heart, knows them to be realities and admits their effect upon his impressions regarding the persons from whom they emanate. even small children, infants even, perceive this influence, and respond to it in the matter of likes and dislikes. but, human testimony regarding the existence and character of the human aura does not stop with the reports of the psychic senses to which we have just referred. there are many individuals of the race--a far greater percentage than is generally imagined--who have the gift of psychic sight more or less developed. many persons have quite a well-developed power of this kind, who do not mention it to their acquaintances for fear of ridicule, or of being thought "queer." in addition to these persons, there are here and there to be found well-developed, clear-sighted, or truly clairvoyant persons, whose powers of psychic perception are as highly developed as are the ordinary senses of the average individual. and, the reports of these persons, far apart in time and space though they may be, have always agreed on the main points of psychic phenomena, particularly in regards to the human aura. to the highly developed clairvoyant vision, every human being is seen as surrounded by the egg-shaped aura of two or three feet in depth, more dense and thick in the portion nearest the body, and then gradually becoming more tenuous, thin and indistinct as the distance from the body is increased. by the psychic perception, the aura is seen as a luminous cloud--a phosphorescent flame--deep and dense around the centre and then gradually shading into indistinctness toward the edges. as a matter of fact, as all developed occultists know, the aura really extends very much further than even the best clairvoyant vision can perceive it, and its psychic influence is perceptible at quite a distance in many cases. in this respect it is like any flame on the physical plane--it gradually fades into indistinctness, its rays persisting far beyond the reach of the vision, as may be proved by means of chemical apparatus, etc. to the highly developed clairvoyant vision, the human aura is seen to be composed of all the colors of the spectrum, the combinations of colors differing in various persons, and constantly shifting in the case of every person. these colors reflect the mental (particularly the emotional) states of the person in whose aura they are manifested. each mental state has its own particular combination formed from the few elementary colors which represent the elementary mental conditions. as the mind is ever shifting and changing its states, it follows that there will ever be a corresponding series of shifting changes in the colors of the human aura. the shades and colors of the aura present an ever changing kaleidoscopic spectacle, of wonderful beauty and most interesting character. the trained occultist is able to read the character of any person, as well as the nature of his passing thoughts and feelings, by simply studying the shifting colors of his aura. to the developed occultist the mind and character become as an open book, to be studied carefully and intelligently. even the student of occultism, who has not been able to develop the clairvoyant vision to such a high degree, is soon able to develop the sense of psychic perception whereby he is able to at least "feel" the vibrations of the aura, though he may not see the colors, and thus be able to interpret the mental states which have caused them. the principle is of course the same, as the colors are but the outward appearance of the vibrations themselves, just as the ordinary colors on the physical plane are merely the outward manifestation of vibration of matter. but it must not be supposed that the human aura is always perceived in the appearance of a luminous cloud of ever-changing color. when we say that such is its characteristic appearance, we mean it in the same sense that we describe the ocean as a calm, deep body of greenish waters. we know, however, that at times the ocean presents no such appearance, but, instead, is seen as rising in great mountainous waves, white capped, and threatening the tiny vessels of men with its power. or again, we may define the word "flame" in the sense of a steady bright stream of burning gas, whereas, we know only too well, that the word also indicates the great hot tongues of fiery force that stream out from the windows of a burning building, and lick to destruction all with which it comes in contact. so it is with the human aura. at times it may be seen as a beautiful, calm, luminous atmosphere, presenting the appearance of a great opal under the rays of the sun. again, it blazes like the flames of a great furnace, shooting forth great tongues of fire in this direction and that, rising and falling in great waves of emotional excitement, or passion, or perhaps whirling like a great fiery maelstrom toward its centre, or swirling in an outward movement away from its centre. again it may be seen as projecting from its depths smaller bodies or centres of mental vibration, which like sparks from a furnace detach themselves from the parent flame, and travel far away in other directions--these are the projected thought-forms of which all occultists are fond of speaking and which make plain many strange psychic occurrences. so, it will be seen, the human aura is a very important and interesting phase of the personality of every individual. the psychic phase of man is as much the man himself as is the physical phase--the complete man being made up of the two phases. man invisible is as much the real man as is man visible. as the finer forms of nature are always the most powerful, so is the psychic man more potent than the physical man. in this book, i speak of the human aura, and its colors, as being perceived by astral or clairvoyant vision, for this is the way in which it is perceived and studied by the occultist. the occult teaching is that, in the evolution of the race, this astral vision will eventually become the common property of every human being--it so exists even now, and needs only development to perfect it. but modern physical science is today offering corroborative proof (though the same is not needed by the occultist who has the astral vision) to the general public, of the existence of the human aura. in europe, especially, a number of scientists have written on the subject of the aura, and have described the result of the experiments in which the aura has been perceived, and even photographed, by means of fluorescent screens, such as are used in taking x-ray photographs, etc. leading authorities in england, france, and still more recently, in germany, have reported the discovery (!) of a nebulous, hazy, radio-active energy or substance, around the body of human beings. in short, they now claim that every human being is radio-active, and that the auric radiation may be registered and perceived by means of a screen composed of certain fluorescent material, interposed between the eye of the observer, and the person observed. this aura, so discovered (!) by the scientists, is called by them the "human atmosphere," and is classified by them as similar to the radiations of other radio-active substances, radium, for instance. they have failed to discover color in this atmosphere, however, and know nothing, apparently, of the relation between auric colors and mental and emotional states, which are so familiar to every advanced occultist. i mention this fact merely as a matter of general interest and information to the student, and not as indicating, even in the slightest degree, any idea on my part that the old occult teaching, and the observed phenomena accompanying the same, regarding the human aura, require any proof or backing up on the part of material scientists. on the contrary, i feel that material science should feel flattered by the backing up by occult science of the new discovery (!) of the "human atmosphere." a little later on, material science may also discover (!) the auric colors, and announce the same to the wondering world, as a new truth. chapter ii. the prana-aura. many writers on the subject of the human aura content themselves with a description of the colors of the mental or emotional aura, and omit almost any reference whatsoever to the basic substance or power of the aura. this is like the play of hamlet, with the character of hamlet omitted, for, unless we understand something concerning the fundamental substance of which the aura is composed, we cannot expect to arrive at a clear understanding of the phenomena which arises from and by reason of the existence of this fundamental substance. we might as well expect a student to understand the principles of color, without having been made acquainted with the principles of light. the fundamental substance of which the human aura is composed is none other than that wonderful principle of nature of which one reads so much in all occult writings, which has been called by many names, but which is perhaps best known under the sanscrit term, _prana_, but which may be thought of as vital essence, life power, etc. it is not necessary in this book to go into the general consideration of the nature and character of prana. it is sufficient for us to consider it in its manifestation of vital force, life essence, etc. in its broadest sense, prana really is the principle of energy in nature, but in its relation to living forms it is the vital force which lies at the very basis of manifested life. it exists in all forms of living things, from the most minute microscopic form up to living creatures on higher planes, as much higher than man as man is higher than the simple microscopic life-forms. it permeates them all, and renders possible all life activity and functioning. prana is not the mind or the soul, but is rather the force or energy through which the soul manifests activity, and the mind manifests thought. it is the steam that runs the physical and mental machinery of life. it is the substance of the human aura, and the colors of mental states are manifested in that substance, just as the colors of chemical bodies are manifested in the substance of water. but prana is not material substance--it is higher than mere matter, being the underlying substance of energy or force in nature. while it is true, as we have seen, that all auras are composed of the substance of prana, it is likewise true that there is a simple and elementary form of auric substance to which occultists have given the simple name of the prana-aura in order to distinguish it from the more complex forms and phases of the human aura. the simplicity of the character of the prana-aura causes it to be more readily sensed or perceived than is possible in the case of the more complex phases or forms of the aura. for whereas it is only the more sensitive organisms that can distinguish the finer vibrations of the mental and emotional aura, and only the clairvoyant sight which can discern its presence by its colors, almost any person, by a little careful experimenting, may become aware of the presence of the prana-aura, not only in the way of "feeling" it, but in many cases of actually seeing it with the ordinary vision rightly directed. that which is known as the prana-aura is of course the most simple form or phase of the human aura. it is the form or phase which is more closely bound up with the physical body, and is less concerned with the mental states. this fact has caused some writers to speak of it as the "health aura," or "physical aura," both of which terms are fittingly applied as we shall see, although we prefer the simpler term we have used here, i. e., the prana-aura. for the prana-aura does show the state of the health of the individual radiating it, and it also really contains physical power and magnetism which may be, and is imparted to others. the basic prana-aura is practically colorless, that is to say, it is about the color of the clearest water or a very clear diamond. by the clairvoyant vision it is seen to be streaked or marked by very minute, bristle-like lines, radiating outward from the physical body of the individual, in a manner very like "the quills upon the fretful porcupine," as shakespeare puts it. in the case of excellent physical health, these bristle-like streaks are stiff and brittle-looking, whereas, if the general health of the person be deficient these bristle-like radiations seem to be more or less tangled, twisted, or curly; and, in some cases present a drooping appearance, and in extreme cases present the appearance of soft, limp fur. it may interest the student to know that minute particles of this prana-aura, or vital magnetism, is sloughed off the body in connection with physical exhalations such as scent, etc., and remain in existence for some time after the person has passed from the particular place at which they were cast off. in fact, as all occultists know, it is these particles of the prana-aura which serve to give vitality to the "scent" of living creatures, which enables dogs and other animals to trace up the track of the person, or animal, for a long time after the person has passed. it is not alone the physical odor, which must be very slight as you will see upon a moment's consideration. it is really the presence of the particles of the prana-aura which enables the dog to distinguish the traces of one person among that of thousands of others, and the feat is as much psychical as physical. another peculiarity of the prana-aura is that it is filled with a multitude of extremely minute sparkling particles, resembling tiny electric sparks, which are in constant motion. these sparks, which are visible to persons of only slightly developed psychic power, impart a vibratory motion to the prana-aura which, under certain conditions is plainly visible to the average person. this vibratory movement is akin to the movement of heated air arising from a hot stove, or from the heated earth on a mid-summer day. if the student will close his eyes partially, until he peers out from narrowed lids, and then will closely observe some very healthy person sitting in a dim light, he may perceive this undulating, pulsing vibration extending an inch or two from the surface of the body. it requires some little knack to recognize these vibrations, but a little practice will often give one the key; and after the first recognition, the matter becomes easy. again, in the case of persons of active brains, one may perceive this pulsating prana-aura around the head of the person, particularly when he is engaged in concentrated active thought. a little practice will enable almost any one to perceive faintly the dim outlines of the prana-aura around his own fingers and hand, by placing his hand against a black background, in a dim light, and then gazing at it with narrowed eye-lids, squinting if necessary. under these circumstances, after a little practice, one will be apt to perceive a tiny outlined aura, or radiation, or halo, of pale yellowish light surrounding the hand. by extending the fingers, fan shape, you will perceive that each finger is showing its own little outlined prana-aura. the stronger the vital force, the plainer will be the perception of the phenomenon. often the prana-aura, in these experiments, will appear like the semi-luminous radiance surrounding a candle flame or gas light. under the best conditions, the radiation will assume an almost phosphorescent appearance. remember, this is simply a matter of trained ordinary sight,--not clairvoyant vision. this prana-aura is identical with human magnetism, which is employed in ordinary magnetic healing. that is to say it is the outer manifestation of the wonderful pranic force. it is felt when you shake hands, or otherwise come in close physical contact with a strongly magnetic person. on the other hand it is what the weakly, human vampire-like persons unconsciously, or consciously, try to draw off from strong persons, if the latter allow them so to do from want of knowledge of self protection. who has not met persons of this kind, who seem to sap one's very life force away from him? remember, then, that the prana-aura is the aura or radiation of life force, or vital power, which is the steam of your living activity, physical and mental. it is the pouring out of the vital "steam" which is running your vital machinery. its presence indicates life--its absence lifelessness. chapter iii. the astral colors. the term "astral," so frequently employed by all occultists, is difficult to explain or define except to those who have pursued a regular course of study in occult science. for the purpose of the present consideration, it is enough to say that over and above the ordinary physical sense plane there is another and more subtle plane, known as the astral plane. every human being possesses the innate and inherent faculty of sensing the things of this astral plane, by means of an extension or enlargement of the powers of the ordinary senses, so to speak. but, in the majority of persons in the present stage of development, these astral senses are lying dormant, and only here and there do we find individuals who are able to sense on the astral plane, although in the course of evolution the entire race will be able to do so, of course. the colors of the human aura, mentioned in the preceding two chapters, and which arise from the various mental and emotional states, belong to the phenomena of the astral plane, and hence bear the name of "the astral colors." belonging to the astral plane, and not to the ordinary physical plane, they are perceived only by the senses functioning on the astral plane, and are invisible to the ordinary physical plane sight. but, to those who have developed the astral sight, or clairvoyance, these colors are as real as are the ordinary colors to the average person, and their phenomena have been as carefully recorded by occult science as have the physical plane colors by physical science. the fact that to the ordinary physical senses they are invisible, does not render them any the less real. remember, in this connection, that to the blind man our physical colors do not exist. and, for that matter, the ordinary colors do not exist to "color blind" persons. the ordinary physical plane person is simply "color blind" to the astral colors--that's all. on the astral plane each shade of mental or emotional state has its corresponding astral color, the latter manifesting when the form appears. it follows then, of course, that when once the occultist has the key to this color correspondence, and thus is able to perceive the astral colors by means of his astral vision, he also is able to read the mental and emotional states of any person within the range of his vision, as easily as you are now reading the printed words of this book. before proceeding to a consideration of the list of astral colors in the human aura, i wish to call your attention to a slight variation in the case of the prana-aura, of which i have spoken in our last chapter. i have stated therein that the prana-aura is colorless like a diamond or clear water. this is true in the average case, but in the case of a person of very strong physical vitality or virility, the prana-aura takes on, at times, a faint warm pink tinge, which is really a reflection from the red astral color, of the meaning of which color you shall now learn. like their physical plane counterparts, all the astral colors are formed from three primary colors, namely ( ) red; ( ) blue; and ( ) yellow. from these three primary colors, all other colors are formed. following the primary colors, we find what are known as the secondary colors, namely: ( ) green, derived from a combination of yellow and blue; ( ) orange, formed from a combination of yellow and red; and ( ) purple, formed from a combination of red and blue. further combinations produce the other colors, as for instance, green and purple form olive; orange and purple form russet; green and orange form citrine. black is called an absence of color, while white is really a harmonious blending of all colors, strange as this may appear to one who has not studied the subject. the blending of the primary colors in varied proportions produce what is known as the "hues" of color. adding white to the hues, we obtain "tints;" while mixing black produces "shades." strictly speaking black and white are known as "neutral" colors. now for the meaning of the astral colors--that is, the explanation of the mental or emotional state represented by each. i ask that the student familiarize himself with the meaning of the primary colors and their combinations. a clear understanding of the key of the astral colors is often an aid in the development of astral sight. key to the astral colors. red. red represents the physical phase of mentality. that is to say, it stands for that part of the mental activities which are concerned with physical life. it is manifested by the vitality of the body, and in other hues, tints and shades, is manifested by passions, anger, physical cravings, etc. i shall describe the various forms of red manifestation, a little later on. blue. blue represents the religious, or spiritual, phase of mentality. that is to say, it stands for that part of the mental activities which are concerned with high ideals, altruism, devotion, reverence, veneration, etc. it is manifested, in its various hues, tints, and shades, by all forms of religious feeling and emotion, high and low, as we shall see as we proceed. yellow. yellow represents the intellectual phase of mentality. that is to say, it stands for that part of the mental activities which are concerned with reasoning, analysis, judgment, logical processes, induction, deduction, synthesis, etc. in its various hues, tints and shades, it is manifested by the various forms of intellectual activity, high and low, as we shall see as we proceed. white. white stands for what occultists know as pure spirit, which is a very different thing from the religious emotion of "spirituality," and which really is the essence of the all that really is. pure spirit is the positive pole of being. we shall see the part played by it in the astral colors, as we proceed. black. black stands for the negative pole of being--the very negation of pure spirit, and opposing it in every way. we shall see the part played by it in the astral colors as we proceed. the various combinations of the three astral primary colors are formed in connection with black and white as well as by the blending of the three themselves. these combinations, of course, result from the shades of mental and emotional activity manifested by the individuality, of which they are the reflection and the key. the combinations and blending of the astral colors, however, are numberless, and present an almost infinite variety. not only is the blending caused by the mixing of the colors themselves, in connection with black and white, but in many cases the body of one color is found to be streaked, striped, dotted or clouded by other colors. at times there is perceived the mixture of two antagonistic color streams fighting against each other before blending. again we see the effect of one color neutralizing another. in some cases great black clouds obscure the bright colors beneath, and then darken the fierce glow of color, just as is often witnessed in the case of a physical conflagration. again, we find great flashes of bright yellow, or red, flaring across the field of the aura, showing agitation or the conflict of intellect and passion. the average student, who has not developed the astral vision, is inclined to imagine that the astral colors in the human aura present the appearance of an egg-shaped rainbow, or spectrum, or something of that sort. but this is a great mistake. in the first place, the astral colors are seldom at rest, for all mental and emotional activity is the result of vibration, change, and rhythmic motion. consequently, the colors of the aura present a kaleidoscopic appearance, of constant change of color, shape and grouping--a great electrical display, so to speak, constantly shifting, changing, and blending. great tongues of flamelike emanations project themselves beyond the border of the aura, under strong feeling or excitement, and great vibratory whirls and swirls are manifested. the sight is most fascinating, although somewhat terrifying at first. nature is wise in bestowing the gift of astral vision only gradually and by almost imperceptible stages of advance. there are many unpleasant, as well as pleasant, sights on the astral plane. chapter iv. the astral colors (continued). remembering, always, the significance of the three primary colors on the astral plane, let us consider the meaning of the combinations, shades, hues, and tints of these colors. the red group. in this group of astral colors seen in the human aura, we find strongly in evidence the clear bright red shade, similar to that of fresh, pure arterial blood as it leaves the heart, filled with pure material freshly oxygenated. this shade, in the aura, indicates health, life-force, vigor, virility, etc., in pure and untainted form. the aura of a healthy, strong child shows this shade of color very plainly and strongly. strong, pure natural emotions, such as friendship, love of companionship, love of physical exercise, healthy clean sports, etc., are manifested by a clear clean shade of red. when these feelings become tainted with selfishness, low motives, etc., the shade grows darker and duller. love of low companionship, unclean sports, or selfish games, etc., produce an unpleasant muddy red shade. a shade of red, very near to crimson, is the astral color of love, but the tint and shade varies greatly according to the nature of this form of emotional feeling. a very high form of love, which seeks the good of the loved one, rather than the satisfaction of oneself, manifests as a beautiful rose tint--one of the most pleasing of the astral tints, by the way. descending in the scale, we find the crimson shade becoming darker and duller, until we descend to the plane of impure, sensual, coarse passion, which is manifested by an ugly, dull, muddy crimson of a repulsive appearance, suggesting blood mixed with dirty earth or barnyard soil. a peculiar series of red shades are those manifesting anger in its various forms, from the vivid scarlet flashes of anger color, arising from what may be called "righteous indignation," down the scale to the ugly flashes of deep, dull red, betokening rage and uncontrolled passion. the red of anger generally shows itself in flashes, or great leaping flames, often accompanied by a black background, in the case of malicious hate, or by a dirty, greenish background when the rage arises from jealousy, or envy. the color of avarice is a very ugly combination of dull, dark red, and a dirty ugly green. if persons could see their own astral colors accompanying these undesirable mental states, the sight would perhaps so disgust them with such states as to work a cure. at any rate, they are most disgusting and repulsive to the occultist who beholds them in the human aura, and he often wonders why they do not sicken the person manifesting them--they often do just this thing, to tell the truth. the yellow group. in this group of astral colors seen in the human aura we find as many varieties as we do in the red group. yellow, denoting intellect, has many degrees of shade and tint, and many degrees of clearness. an interesting shade in this group is that of orange, which represents different forms of "pride of intellect," intellectual ambition, love of mastery by will, etc. the greater degree of red in the astral orange color, the greater the connection with the physical or animal nature. pride and love of power over others, has much red in its astral color, while love of intellectual mastery has much less red in its composition. pure intellectual attainment, and the love of the same, is manifested by a beautiful clear golden yellow. great teachers often have this so strongly in evidence, that at times their students have glimpses of a golden "halo" around the head of the teacher. teachers of great spirituality have this "nimbus" of golden yellow, with a border of beautiful blue tint, strongly in evidence. the paintings of the great spiritual teachers of the race usually have this radiance pictured as a "halo," showing a recognition of the phenomenon on the part of the great artists. hoffman's celebrated painting of the christ in the garden of gethsemane shows this nimbus so accurately depicted that the occultist is convinced that this artist must have actually witnessed a similar scene in the astral light, so true to the astral facts are its details. the images of the buddha also show this radiance. the rich golden shades of intellectual yellow are comparatively rare, a sickly lemon color being the only indication of intellectual power and found in the aura of the great run of persons. to the sight of the occultist, employing his power of astral vision, a crowd of persons will manifest here and there, at widely separated points, the bright golden yellow of the true intellect, appearing like scattered lighted candles among a multitude of faintly burning matches. the green group. this is a peculiar group, consisting as of course it does of various combinations of blues and yellows, tinted and shaded by white or black. even skilled occultists find it very difficult to account for the fact of certain green shades arising from the spiritual blue and the intellectual yellow--this is one of the most obscure points in the whole subject of the astral colors, and none but the most advanced occultists are able to explain the "why" in some instances. to those who are fond of analysis of this kind, i will drop the following hint, which may help them out in the matter, viz. the key is found in the fact that green lies in the centre of the astral spectrum, and is a balance between the two extremes, and is also influenced by these two extremes in a startling manner. a certain restful green denotes love of nature, out of door life, travel in the country, etc., and also, slightly differing in tint, the love of home scenes, etc. again, a clear beautiful lighter tint of green indicates what may be called sympathy, altruistic emotion, charity, etc. again, illustrating variety in this group of astral colors, another shade of green shows intellectual tolerance of the views of others. growing duller, this indicates tact, diplomacy, ability to handle human nature, and descending another degree or so blends into insincerity, shiftiness, untruth, etc. there is an ugly slate-colored green indicating low, tricky deceit--this is a very common shade in the colors of the average aura, i am sorry to say. finally, a particularly ugly, muddy, murky green indicates jealousy and kindred feelings, envious malice, etc. the blue group. this interesting group of astral colors represents the varying forms and degrees of religious emotion, "spirituality," etc. the highest form of spiritual, religious feeling and thought is represented by a beautiful, rich, clear violet tint, while the lower and more gross phases of religious emotion and thought are represented by the darker and duller hues, tints, and shades until a deep, dark indigo is reached, so dark that it can scarcely be distinguished from a bluish black. this latter color, as might be expected, indicates a low superstitious form of religion, scarcely worthy of the latter name. religion, we must remember, has its low places as well as its heights--its garden grows the rarest flowers, and at the same time the vilest weeds. high spiritual feelings--true spiritual unfoldment--is indicated by a wonderfully clear light blue, of an unusual tint, something akin to the clear light blue of the sky on a cool autumn afternoon, just before sunset. even when we witness an approach to this color in nature, we are inspired by an uplifting feeling as if we were in the presence of higher things, so true is the intuition regarding these things. morality, of a high degree, is indicated by a series of beautiful shades of blue, always of a clear inspiring tint. religious feeling ruled by fear, is indicated by a shade of bluish gray. purple denotes a love of form and ceremony, particularly those connected with religious offices or regal grandeur of a solemn kind. purple, naturally, was chosen as the royal color in the olden days. the brown group. the brown group of astral colors represents desire for gain and accumulation, ranging from the clear brown of industrious accumulation, to the murky dull browns of miserliness, greed and avarice. there is a great range in this group of brown shades, as may be imagined. the gray group. the group of grays represents a negative group of thought and emotions. gray represents fear, depression, lack of courage, negativity, etc. this is an undesirable and unpleasant group. black. black, in the astral colors, stands for hatred, malice, revenge, and "devilishness" generally. it shades the brighter colors into their lower aspects, and robs them of their beauty. it stands for hate--also for gloom, depression, pessimism, etc. white. white is the astral color of pure spirit, as we have seen, and its presence raises the degree of the other colors, and renders them clearer. in fact, the perception of the highest degree of being known to the most advanced occultist is manifested to the highest adepts and masters in the form of "the great white light," which transcends any light ever witnessed by the sight of man on either physical or astral plane--for it belongs to a plane higher than either, and is absolute, rather than a relative, white. the presence of white among the astral colors of the human aura, betokens a high degree of spiritual attainment and unfoldment, and when seen permeating the entire aura it is one of the signs of the master--the token of adeptship. chapter v. the auric kaleidoscope. as we have seen, the human aura is never in a state of absolute rest or quiet. motion and change is ever manifested by it. it has its periods of comparative calm, of course, but even in this state there is a pulsing, wave-like motion apparent. the clouds of changing color fly over its surface, and in its depth, like the fast driven fleecy clouds over the summer sky, illumined by the rays of the setting sun. again, fierce storms of mental activity, or emotional stress, disturb its comparative calm, and the wildest scenes are witnessed in the aura by the observer. so intense are the vibrations of some of these mental storms that their effect is plainly felt by the average person, though he is not able to distinguish the colors or the great whirls and swirls of auric substance accompanying them. a person sunk in reverie, dream-states, or sleep, presents an interesting auric kaleidoscope, which possesses great beauty if the person be normal and of average morality. in such a case there is a cloudy-clearness (if the term may be used) tinged with tints and shades of varying colors, blending in strange and interesting combinations, appearing gradually from previous combinations, and sinking gradually into new ones. to the observer of the aura the term "opalescent" instinctly presents itself, for there is a striking resemblance to the opaline peculiar play of colors of delicate tints and shades in a body of pearly or milky hue. color shades into color, tint into tint, hue into hue, as in the color scale of the spectrum of which the rainbow is the most familiar example. but the rainbow or spectrum lacks the peculiar semi-transparency of the auric colors, and also the constantly changing and dissolving body of colors of the aura. at this point, i wish to call your attention to a phase of the aura which i purposely passed over in the preceding chapters. i allude to the phase of the aura which presents the "pearly" appearance of the opalescent body, which we have just noted. this appearance is manifested neither by any of the mental or emotional states, nor is it the prana-aura or vital force which i have described in a previous chapter. it is the manifestation of what is known to occultists as "etheric substance," and is a very interesting feature of the auric phenomena. this etheric substance, which manifests this peculiar radiance in the body of the aura, composes that which is called by some occultists "the astral body," but this latter term is also employed in another sense, and i prefer to use the term "etheric double" to indicate what some others know as "the astral body." etheric substance is much finer form of substance than that which composes the physical body. it is really matter in a very high degree of vibration--much higher than even the ultra-gaseous matter of physical substance. it may be sensed, ordinarily, only on the astral plane, which is its own particular plane of activity. the etheric double, composed of this etheric substance, is the exact counterpart of its physical counterpart--the ordinary physical body of the individual--although it is capable of great expansion or shrinking in space. like the physical body it radiates an aura, and this combining with the other forms of the auric body, gives to it its peculiar pearly appearance, which is the background of its opalescence previously noted. the etheric double explains the phenomenon of spectral appearances or ghosts, for it persists for a time after the death of the physical body, and under some conditions becomes visible to the ordinary sight. it sometimes is projected from the physical body, and at such times appears as an apparition of the living, of which there are many cases recorded by the societies investigating psychical subjects. the etheric double, or astral body, is referred to here, however, merely to explain the peculiar pearly tint of the background, or body, of the aura, in and through which the mental and emotional auric colors play and move. it may interest you, however, to know that this phase of aura is always present around and about a "ghost" or dematerialized disembodied soul, or "spirit" as common usage terms it. the aura of the wide-awake person is, of course, far more active and more deeply colored than is that of the person in reverie, dream, or sleep. and, again the aura of the person manifesting a high degree of mental activity, or strong feeling or passion, is still brighter and deeper than the ordinary person performing his daily routine work. in the state of anger, or love-passion, for instance, the aura is violently disturbed, deep shades of color whirling and swirling in the depths and surface of the auric body. lightning-like flashes shoot forth and great bodies of lurid smoky clouds fly on the surface. looking into the aura of a man wild with rage and passion, is like peering into inferno. the astral plane, in the region of a lynching mob, or other body of persons filled with rage, becomes a frightful scene of auric radiation. a person filled with the emotion of pure love, fills his aura with the most beautiful tints and shades of high rosy color, and to behold the same is a pleasure fully appreciated by the occultist. a church filled with persons of a high devotional ideality, is also a beautiful place, by reason of the mingling of auric violet-blue vibrations of those therein assembled. the atmosphere of a prison is most depressing and presents a most unpleasant appearance to one possessing the astral vision. likewise the astral atmosphere of an abode of vice and passion, becomes really physically nauseating to the occultist of high ideals and taste. such scenes on the astral plane are avoided by all true occultists, except when the call of duty leads them to visit them to give aid and help. there are two distinct features connected with the auric coloring of every person. the first is the coloring resulting from the more habitual thoughts and feelings of the person--from his character, in fact; while the second is the coloring resulting from the particular feelings, or thoughts, manifested by him at that particular moment or time. the color of the feeling of the moment soon disappears and fades away, while the more habitual feeling, bound up with his character, causes its corresponding color to abide more permanently, and thus to give a decided hue to his general auric color appearance. the trained occultist is, therefore, able to ascertain not only the passing thoughts and feelings of a person, but also to determine infallibly his general character, tendencies, past character and actions, and general nature, simply from a careful examination and study of the auric colors of the person in question. as all occultists well know, every place, dwelling, business place, church, courtroom--every village, city, country, nation--has its own collective aura, known as "astral atmosphere," which is simply but a combined reflection of the individual auras of the human units of which its body of inhabitants is made up. these atmospheric vibrations are plainly felt by many persons, and we are instinctively attracted or repelled by reason thereof. but, to the developed occultists, these places manifest the auric colors, in the combinations arising from the nature of the mentalities of the persons dwelling in them. each place has its collective aura, just as each person has his individual aura. the astral plane presents a wonderful scene of color by reason of this and similar causes. the harmony of the color scheme, in some cases, is marvellously beautiful; while the horrible aspect of scenes resemble a nightmare vision of the worst kind. it is easy to understand why some of the ancients who stumbled into glimpses of the astral plane, while in dream-state or trance, reported the vision of terrible hells of unquenchable fire, fiery lakes of smoking brimstone, etc., for such ideas would naturally come to the mind of the uninformed person who had peered into the astral plane in such cases. and, in the same way, the visions of heaven reported by the saints, and others of high spirituality, are explainable on the theory that these persons had sensed some of the beautiful scenes of the higher astral planes, filled with the combined auric tints and hues of souls of high development. the principle of auric colors holds good on all the many planes of being and existence--high as well as low. i merely hint at a great occult truth in making the above statements. the thoughtful will be able to read between my lines. i have given you a little key which will unlock the door of many mysteries, if you will but use it intelligently. chapter vi. thought forms. that interesting phase of occult phenomena, known as "thought forms," is so closely related to the general subject of the human aura that a mention of one must naturally lead to the thought of the other. thought-forms are built up of the very material composing the aura, and manifest all of the general characteristics thereof, even to the auric colors. an understanding of the facts of the human aura is necessary for a correct understanding of the nature of the thought-forms composed of the same substance. a "thought form" is a peculiar manifestation of mental activity on the astral plane. it is more than a powerful disturbance in the body of the human aura, although this is the place of its embodiment or birth in the objective world. it is formed in the following manner: a person manifests a strong desire, feeling or idea, which is naturally filled with the dynamic force of his will. this sets up a series of strong vibrations in the body of the aura, which gradually resolve themselves into a strong whirling centre of thought-force involved in a mass of strongly cohesive auric substance, and strongly charged with the power of the prana of the person. in some cases these thought forms survive in the auric body for some little time, and then gradually fade away. in other cases they survive and maintain an almost independent existence for some time, and exert a strong influence upon other persons coming in the presence of the person. again, these thought forms may be so strongly charged with prana, and so imbued with the mental force of the person, that they will actually be thrown off and away from the aura itself, and travel in space until they exhaust their initial energy--in the meantime exerting an influence upon the psychic aura of other persons. a thought-form is more than merely a strongly manifested thought--it really is such a thought, but surrounded by a body of ethereal substance, charged with prana, and even carrying with it the vibration of the life energy of its creator. it is a child of the mind of its creator, and acquires a portion of his life-essence, so to speak, which abides with it for a longer or shorter time after its birth. in extreme instances it becomes practically a semi-living elemental force, of necessarily comparatively short life. to those who find it difficult to understand how a thought-form can persist after separation from the presence of the thinker, i would say that the phenomena is similar to that of light traveling in space, long after the star which originated it has been destroyed. or, again, it is like the vibrations of heat remaining in a room after the lamp or stove causing it has been removed, or the fire in the grate having died out. or like the sound waves of the drum-beat persisting after the beat itself has ceased. it is all a matter of the persistence of vibrations. thought forms differ greatly one from the other in the matter of shape and general appearance. the most common and simple form is that of an undulating wave, or series of tiny waves, resembling the circles caused by the dropping of a pebble into a still pond. another form is that of a tiny rotating bit of cloud-like substance, sometimes whirling towards a central point, like a whirlpool; and sometimes swirling away from the central point like the familiar "pin-wheel" fireworks toy. another form is akin the ring of smoke projected from the coughing locomotive, or the rounded lips of the cigar smoker, the movement in this kind being a form of spiral rotation. other thought forms have the appearance of swiftly rotating balls of cloudy substance, often glowing with a faint phosphorescence. sometimes the thought form will appear as a great slender jet, like steam ejected from the spout of a tea-kettle, which is sometimes broken up into a series of short, puffed-out jets, each following the jet preceding it, and traveling in a straight line. sometimes the thought form shoots forth like a streak of dim light, almost resembling a beam of light flashed from a mirror. occasionally, it will twist its way along like a long, slender corkscrew, or auger, boring into space. in cases of thought-forms sent forth by explosive emotion, the thought form will actually take the form of a bomb, which literally explodes when it reaches the presence of the person toward whom it is aimed. every person has experienced this feeling of a thought bomb having been exploded in his near vicinity, having been directed by a vigorous personality. this form is frequently found in the thought forms sent out by a strong, earnest, vigorous orator. there are strong thought forms which seem to strive to push back the other person, so correctly do they represent the idea and feeling back of their manifestation. others seem to strive to wind around the other person, and to try to literally drag him toward the first person, this form often accompanying strong appeal, persuasion, coaxing, etc., when accompanied by strong desire. a particularly vigorous form of this kind of thought form takes on the appearance of a nebulous octopus, with long, winding, clinging tentacles, striving to wrap around the other person, and to draw him toward the center. the force of the feeling behind the manifestation of the thought form will often travel a long distance from the sender--in fact, in cases of great power of concentration, space seems to be no barrier to its passage. in striking instances of thought transference, etc., it will be found that thought forms play an important part. the variety of shapes of thought forms is almost endless. each combination of thought and feeling creates its own form, and each individual seems to have his own peculiarities in this respect. the forms i have above described, however, will serve as typical cases to illustrate the more common classes of appearances. the list, however, might be indefinitely expanded from the experience of any experienced occultist, and is not intended to be full by any means. all varieties of geometrical forms are found among the thought forms, some of them being of remarkable beauty. in considering the subject of projected thought forms, moreover, it must be remembered that they partake of, and manifest, the same colors as does the aura itself, for they are composed of the same material and are charged with the same energy. but, note this difference, that whereas the aura is energized from the constant battery of the organism of the individual, the thought form, on the contrary, has at its service only the energy with which it was charged when it was thrown off--being a storage battery, as it were, which in time expends all of its power and then is powerless. every thought form bears the same color that it would possess if it had been retained in the body of the aura itself. but, as a rule, the colors are plainer, and less blended with others--this because each thought form is the representation of a single definite feeling or thought, or group of same, instead of being a body of widely differing mental vibrations. thus the thought form of anger will show its black and red, with its characteristic flashes. the thought form of passion will show forth its appropriate auric colors and general characteristics. the thought form of high ideal love will show its beautiful form and harmonious tinting, like a wonderful celestial flower from the garden of some far off paradise. many thought forms never leave the outer limits of the aura, while others are projected to great distances. some sputter out as they travel, and are disintegrated, while others continue to glow like a piece of heated iron, for many hours. others persist for a long time, with a faint phosphorescent glow. a careful study of what has been said regarding the characteristics of the various feelings and emotions, as manifested in the auric body, will give the student a very fair general idea of what may be the appearance of any particular variety of thought form, for a general principle runs through the entire series of auric phenomena. an understanding of the fundamental principles will lead to an understanding of any of the particular varieties of the manifestation thereof. finally, remember this: a thought form is practically a bit of the detached aura of a person, charged with a degree of his prana, and energized with a degree of his life energy. so, in a limited sense, it really is a projected portion of his personality. chapter vii. psychic influence of colors. in all of nature's wonderful processes we find many evidences of that great principle of action and reaction, which, like the forward and backward swing of the pendulum, changes cause into effect, and effect into cause, in a never ending series. we find this principle in effect in the psychic relation of mental states and colors. that is to say, that just as we find that certain mental and emotional states manifest in vibrations causing particular auric astral colors, so do we find that the presence of certain colors on the physical plane will have a decided psychic effect upon the mental and emotional states of individuals subject to their influence. and, as might be expected by the thoughtful student, the particular astral colors manifested in the aura by the presence of some particular mental or emotional state exactly correspond with the particular physical colors which influence that particular mental or emotional state. illustrating the statements in the preceding paragraph, i would say that the continued presence of red will be apt to set up emotional vibrations of anger, passion, physical love, etc., or, in a different tint, the higher physical emotions. blue, of the right tint, will tend to cause feelings of spirituality, religious emotion, etc. green is conducive to feelings of relaxation, repose, quiet, etc. black produces the feeling of gloom and grief. and so on, each color tends to produce emotional vibrations similar to those which manifest that particular color in the astral aura of the person. it is a case of "give and take" along the entire scale of color and emotions, according to the great natural laws. while the explanation of these facts is not known to the average person, nevertheless nearly everyone recognizes the subtle effect of color and avoids certain colors, while seeking certain others. there is not a single living human being but who has experienced the sense of rest, calm, repose, and calm inflow of strength, when in a room decorated in quiet shades of green. nature, herself, has given this particular shade to the grass and leaves of trees and plants, so that the soothing effect of the country scene is produced. the aura of a person experiencing these feelings, and yielding to them, will manifest precisely the tint or shade of green which is shown on the grass and leaves around him, so true is this natural law of action and reaction. the effect of scarlet upon animals, the bull for instance, is well known--to use the familiar term, it causes one to "see red." the sight of the color of blood is apt to arouse feelings of rage, or disgust, by reason of the same law. the sight of the beautiful clear blue sky tends to arouse feelings of reverence, awe or spirituality. one can never think of this shade of blue arousing rage; or red arouse feelings of spirituality. it is a well known fact that in insane asylums, the use of red in decorations must be avoided, while the proper shades of blue or green are favored. on the other hand, the use of a proper red, in certain cases, will tend to arouse vitality and physical strength in a patient. it is not by mere chance that the life giving blood is a bright, rich red color when it leaves the heart. when one "feels blue" he does not have the impression of a bright or soft blue--but he really is almost conscious of the presence of a dull bluish gray. and the presence of such a color in one's surroundings, tends to cause a feeling of depression. everyone knows the effect of a "gray day" in the fall or spring. again, who does not know the feeling of mental exaltation coming from the sight of a day filled with golden sunshine, or from a golden sunset. we find proofs of this law of nature on all sides, every day of our lives. it is an interesting subject, which will repay the student for the expenditure of a little time and thought upon it. speaking of the general class characteristics of the three primary groups of colors, all occultists, as well as many physiologists and psychologists, are agreed on the following fundamental propositions, viz.: that ( ) red is exciting to the mind and emotions; ( ) yellow is inspiring and elevating, and intellectually stimulating; and ( ) blue is cool, soothing, and calming. it is also universally conceded that the right shades of green (combining the qualities of blue and yellow in appropriate proportions) is the ideal color of rest and recuperation, followed by a stimulation and new ambition. the reason for this may be seen, when you consider the respective qualities of blue and yellow which compose this color. it is interesting to note that the science of medicine is now seriously considering the use of colors in the treatment of disease, and the best medical authorities investigating the subject are verifying the teachings of the old occultists, regarding the influence of colors on mental states and physical conditions. dr. edwin babbitt, a pioneer in this line in the western world, gave the general principles in a nutshell, when he laid down the following rule: "there is a trianal series of graduations in the peculiar potencies of colors, the center and climax of electrical action, which cools the nerves, being in violet; the climax of electrical action, which is soothing to the vascular system, being in blue; the climax of luminosity being in yellow; and the climax of thermism or heat being in red. this is not an imaginary division of qualities, but a real one, the flamelike red color having a principle of warmth in itself; the blue and violet, a principle of cold and electricity. thus we have many styles of chromatic action, including progression of hues, of lights and shades, of fineness and coarseness, of electrical power, luminous power, thermal power, etc." read the above statement of dr. babbitt, and then compare it with the occult teaching regarding the astral colors, and you will perceive the real basis of the science which the good doctor sought to establish, and in which cause he did such excellent pioneer work. the result of his work is now being elaborated by modern physicians in the great schools of medicine, particularly on the continent, in europe--england and america being somewhat behind the times in this work. the advanced occultist also finds much satisfaction in the interest, on the part of physicians and jurists, in the matter of the influence of color upon the mental, moral and physical welfare of the public. the effect of color upon morality is being noticed by workers for human welfare, occupying important offices. the american journals report the case of a judge in a large western city in that country, who insisted upon his courtroom being decorated in light, cheerful tints, instead of in the old, gloomy, depressing shades formerly employed. this judge wisely remarked that brightness led to right thinking, and darkness to crooked thinking; also that his court, being an uplift court, must have walls to correspond, and that it was enough to turn any man into a criminal to be compelled to sit in a dark, dismal courtroom, day after day. this good judge, who must have had some acquaintance with the occult teachings, is quoted as concluding as follows: "white, cream, light yellow, and orange are the colors which are the sanest. i might add light green, for that is the predominant color in nature; black, brown and deep red are incentives to crime--a man in anger sees red." surely a remarkable utterance from the bench! the effect of color schemes upon the moral and mental welfare of persons is being recognized in the direction of providing brighter color schemes in schools, hospitals, reformatories, prisons, etc. the reports naturally show the correctness of the underlying theory. the color of a tiny flower has its effect upon even the most hardened prisoner; while the minds of children in school are quickened by a touch of brightness here and there in the room. it needs no argument to prove the beneficial effect of the right kind of colors in the sickroom, or hospital ward. the prevailing theories, and practice, regarding the employment of color in therapeutics and human welfare work, are in the main correct. but, i urge the study of the occult significance of color, as mentioned in this book in connection with the human aura and its astral colors, as a sound basis for an intelligent, thorough understanding of the real psychic principles underlying the physical application of the methods referred to. go to the center of the subject, and then work outward--that is the true rule of the occultist, which might well be followed by the non-occult general public. chapter viii. auric magnetism. the phenomenon of human magnetism is too well recognized by the general public, to require argument at this time. let the scientists dispute about it as much as they please, down in the heart of nearly all of the plain people of the race is the conviction that there is such a thing. the occultists, of course, are quite familiar with the wonderful manifestations of this great natural force, and with its effect upon the minds and bodies of members of the race, and can afford to smile at the attempts of some of the narrow minds in the colleges to pooh-pooh the matter. but the average person is not familiar with the relation of this human magnetism to the human aura. i think that the student should familiarize himself with this fundamental relation, in order to reason correctly on the subject of human magnetism. here is the fundamental fact in a nutshell: the human aura is the great storehouse, or reservoir, of human magnetism, and is the source of all human magnetism that is projected by the individual toward other individuals. just how human magnetism is generated, is, of course, a far deeper matter, but it is enough for our purpose at this time to explain the fact of its storage and transmission. in cases of magnetic healing, etc., the matter is comparatively simple. in such instances the healer by an effort of the will (sometimes unconsciously applied) projects a supply of his pranic aura vibrations into the body of his patient, by way of the nervous system of the patient, and also by means of what may be called the induction of the aura itself. the mere presence of a person strongly charged with prana, is often enough to cause an overflow into the aura of other persons, with a resulting feeling of new strength and energy. by the use of the hands of the healer, a heightened effect is produced, by reason of certain properties inherent in the nervous system of both healer and patient. there is even a flow of etheric substance from the aura of the healer to that of the patient, in cases where the vitality of the latter is very low. many a healer has actually, and literally, pumped his life force and etheric substance into the body of his patient, when the latter was sinking into the weakness which precedes death, and has by so doing been able to bring him back to life and strength. this is practically akin to the transfusion of blood--except that it is on the psychic plane instead of the physical. but the work of the magnetic healer does not stop here, if he be well informed regarding his science. the educated healer realizing the potent effect of mental states upon physical conditions--of mental vibrations upon the physical nerve centers and organs of the body--endeavors to arouse the proper mental vibrations in the mind of his patient. ordinarily, he does this merely by holding in his mind the corresponding desired mental state, and thus arousing similar vibrations in the mind of the patient. this of itself is a powerful weapon of healing, and constitutes the essence of mental healing as usually practiced. but there is a possible improvement even upon this, as we shall see in a moment. the advanced occultist, realizing the law of action and reaction in the matter of the auric colors, turns the same to account in healing work, as follows: he not only holds in his mind the strong feeling and thought which he wishes to transmit to the patient, but (fix this in your mind) he also pictures in his imagination the particular kind of color which corresponds with the feeling or thought in question. a moment's thought will show you that by this course he practically multiplies the effect. not only do his own thought vibrations ( ) set up corresponding vibrations in the mind of the patient, by the laws of thought transference, but ( ) his thought of the certain colors will set up corresponding vibrations not only (a) in his own aura, and thence (b) to that of the patient, but will also ( ) act directly upon the aura of the patient and reproduce the colors there, which ( ) in turn will arouse corresponding vibrations in the mind of the patient, by the law of reaction. the above may sound a little complicated at first reading, but a little analysis will show you that it is really quite a simple process, acting strictly along the lines of action and reaction, which law has been explained to you in preceding chapters of this book. the vibrations rebound from mind to aura, and from aura to mind, in the patient, something like a billiard ball flying from one side of the table to another, or a tennis ball flying between the two racquets over the net. the principle herein mentioned may be employed as well in what is called "absent treatment" as in treatments where the patient is present. by the laws of thought transference, not only the thought but also the mental image of the appropriate astral color, is transmitted over space, and then, impinging on the mind of the patient, is transmitted into helpful and health-giving vibrations in his mind. the healer of any school of mental or spiritual healing will find this plan very helpful to him in giving absent as well as present treatments. i recommend it from years of personal experience, as well as that of other advanced occultists. of course the fact that the ordinary healer is not able to distinguish the finer shades of astral color, by reason of his not having actually perceived them manifested in the aura, renders his employment of this method less efficacious than that of the developed and trained occultist. but, nevertheless, he will find that, from the knowledge of the auric or astral colors given in this little book, he will be able to obtain quite satisfactory and marked results in his practice. the following table, committed to memory, will be of help to him in the matter of employing the mental image of the auric colors in his healing work. table of healing colors. nervous system-- cooling and soothing: shades of violet, lavender, etc. resting and invigorating effect: grass greens. inspiring and illuminating: medium yellows, and orange. stimulating and exciting: reds (bright). blood and organs-- cooling and soothing: clear dark blues. resting and invigorating: grass greens. inspiring and illuminating: orange yellows. stimulating and exciting: bright reds. the following additional suggestions will be found helpful to the healer: in cases of impaired physical vitality; also chilliness, lack of bodily warmth, etc., bright, warm reds are indicated. in cases of feverishness, overheated blood, excessive blood pressure, inflammation, etc., blue is indicated. red has a tendency to produce renewed and more active heart action; while violets and lavenders tend to slow down the too rapid beating of the heart. a nervous, unstrung patient, may be treated by bathing her, mentally, in a flood of violet or lavender auric color; while a tired, used up, fatigued person may be invigorated by flooding him with bright reds, followed by bright, rich yellows, finishing the treatment with a steady flow of warm orange color. to those who are sufficiently advanced in occult philosophy, i would say that they should remember the significance of the great white light, and accordingly conclude their treatment by an effort to indicate an approach to that clear, pure white color in the aura--mentally, of course. this will leave the patient in an inspired, exalted, illuminated state of mind and soul, which will be of great benefit to him, and will also have the effect of reinvigorating the healer by cosmic energy or para-prana. everything that has been said in this chapter regarding the use of color in magnetic treatments, is equally applicable to cases of self-healing, or self-treatment. let the patient follow the directions above given for the healer, and then turn the healing current, or thought, inward--and the result will be the same as if he were treating another. the individual will soon find that certain colors fit his requirements better than others, in which case let him follow such experience in preference to general rules, for the intuition generally is the safest guide in such cases. however, it will be found that the individual experience will usually agree with the tables given above, with slight personal variations. chapter ix. developing the aura. when it is remembered that the aura of the individual affects and influences other persons with whom he comes in contact--and is, in fact, an important part of his personality--it will be seen that it is important that the individual take pains to develop his aura in the direction of desirable qualities, and to neutralize and weed out undesirable ones. this becomes doubly true, when it is also remembered that, according to the law of action and reaction, the auric vibrations react upon the mind of the individual, thus intensifying and adding fuel to the original mental states which called them forth. from any point of view, it is seen to be an important part of self development and character building, to develop the aura according to scientific occult principles. in this work of aura development, there is found to be two correlated phases, namely: ( ) the direct work of flooding the aura with the best vibrations, by means of holding in the mind clear, distinct and repeated mental pictures of desirable ideas and feelings; and ( ) the added effect of mental images of the colors corresponding to the ideas and feelings which are deemed desirable and worthy of development. the first of the above mentioned phases is probably far more familiar to the average student, than is the second. this from the fact that the average student is apt to be more or less familiar with the teachings of the numerous schools or cults which agree in the axiom that "holding the thought" tends to develop the mind of the individual along the particular lines of such thought. this is a correct psychological principle, for that matter, even when those practicing it do not fully understand the underlying facts. mental faculties, like physical muscles, tend to develop by exercise and use, and any faculty may be developed and cultivated in this way. another teaching of these same schools is that the character of the thoughts so "held" by the individual, effects other persons with whom he comes in contact, and, in a way attracts to him objective things, persons, and circumstances in harmony with such thoughts. this also is in accordance with the best occult teaching--from which, of course, it was originally derived. i heartily endorse the facts of these teachings, and pronounce them fundamentally correct. and, in this connection, i may say that every healer may apply his own methods plus this teaching regarding the aura, and thus obtain greatly increased results. by the faithful, persevering, holding in mind of certain ideas and feelings, the individual may flood his aura with the vibrations and colors of such ideas and feelings, and thus charge it with auric energy and power. by so doing, he gains the benefit of the reaction upon his own mind, and also secures the advantage of the effect thereof upon other persons with whom he comes in contact. in this way he not only builds up his individual character along desirable lines, but at the same time develops a strong, positive, attractive "personality" which affects others with whom he comes in contact. i do not consider it necessary to go into details here regarding this phase of "holding the thought," for, as i have said, the average student is already familiar with the rules regarding the same. in a nutshell, however, i will say that each individual is largely the result of the thoughts he has manifested, and the feelings which he has harbored. therefore, the rule is to manifest and exercise the faculties you would develop, and inhibit or refrain from manifesting the ones you would restrain or control. again, to restrain an undesirable faculty, develop and exercise its opposite--kill out the negatives by developing the positives. the mind produces thought; and yet, it tends to grow from the particular portion of its own product which you may choose to feed to it--for it not only creates thought, but also feeds upon it. so, finally, let it produce the best kind of thought for you, and then throw that back into the hopper, for it will use it to grind out more of the same kind and grow strong in so doing. that is the whole thing in a nutshell. the second phase of aura development (as above classified), however, is not likely to be familiar to the average student, for the reason that it is not known outside of advanced occult circles, and very little has been allowed to be taught regarding it. but, the very reticence regarding it is a proof of its importance, and i strongly advise my students to give to it the attention and practice that its importance merits. the practice, thereof, however, is extremely simple, and the principle of the practice, moreover, is based solely upon the facts of the relation of color and mental states, as shown in the astral auric colors, as fully explained in the preceding chapters of this book. in order to intelligently practice the development of the aura by means of flooding or charging it with the vibrations of psychic colors, it is first necessary that the student be thoroughly familiar with the scale of colors related to each set of mental states or emotional feelings. this scale and its key is found in a number of places in the preceding chapters. the student should turn back the pages of this book, and then carefully re-read and re-study every word which has been said about the relation of mental states and auric colors. he should know the mental correspondence of the shades of red, yellow, and blue, so thoroughly that the thought of one will bring the idea of the other. he should be able to think of the corresponding group of colors, the moment he thinks of any particular mental state. he should be thoroughly familiar with the physical, mental, and spiritual effect of any of the colors, and should moreover, test himself, psychically, for the individual effects of certain colors upon himself. he should enter into this study with interest and earnestness, and then by keeping his eyes and ears open, he will perceive interesting facts concerning the subject on every side in his daily work and life. he will perceive many proofs of the principle, and will soon amass a stock of experiences illustrating each color and its corresponding mental state. he will be richly repaid for the work of such study, which, in fact, will soon grow to be more like pleasure than like work. having mastered this phase of the subject, the student should give himself a thorough, honest, self-examination and mental analysis. he should write down a chart of his strong points and his weak ones. he should check off the traits which should be developed, and those which should be restrained. he should determine whether he needs development along physical, mental, and spiritual lines, and in what degree. having made this chart of himself, he should then apply the principles of charging the aura with the color vibrations indicated by his self diagnosis and prescription. the last stage is quite simple, once one has acquired the general idea back of it. it consists simply in forming as clear a mental image as possible of the color or colors desired, and then projecting the vibrations into the aura by the simple effort of the will. this does not mean that one needs to clinch the fist or frown the brow, in willing. willing, in the occult sense, may be said to consist of a command, leaving the rest to the mechanism of the will and mind. take away the obstacle of doubt and fear--then the royal command performs the work of setting the will into operation. this, by the way, is an important occult secret, of wide application--try to master its all important significance. the mental imaging of colors may be materially aided by concentration upon physical material of the right color. by concentrating the attention and vision upon a red flower, for instance; or upon a bit of green leaf, in another instance; one may be able to form a clear, positive mental image of that particular color. this accompanied by the willing, and demand, that the vibrations of this color shall charge the aura, will be found to accomplish the result. have something around you showing the desirable colors, and your attention will almost instinctively take up the impression thereof, even though you may be thinking of, or doing something else. live as much as possible in the idea and presence of the desirable color, and you will get the habit of setting up the mental image and vibration thereof. a little practice and experience will soon give you the idea, and enable you to get the best results. patience, perseverance, and sustained earnest interest--that is the key of success. chapter x. the protective aura. among the very oldest of the teachings of occultism, we find instructions regarding the building up and maintenance of the protective aura of the individual, whereby he renders himself immune to undesirable physical, mental, psychic or spiritual influences. so important is this teaching, that it is to be regretted that there has not been more said on the subject by some of the writers of recent years. the trouble with many of these recent writers is that they seem to wish to close their eyes to the unpleasant facts of life, and to gaze only upon the pleasant ones. but this is a mistake, for ignorance has never been a virtue, and to shut one's eyes to unpleasant facts does not always result in destroying them. i consider any teaching unfinished and inadequate which does not include instruction along protective lines. physical auric protection consists in charging the aura with vital magnetism and color, which will tend to ward off not only the physical contagion of ill persons, but, what is often still more important, the contagion of their mind and feelings. the student who has really studied the preceding chapters will at once realize that this protection is afforded by filling the aura with the vibrations of health and physical strength, by means of the mental imaging of the life-preserving reds, and the exercise of the mind in the direction of thought of strength and power. these two things will tend to greatly increase the resistive aura of anyone, and enable him to throw off disease influences which affect others. the aura of the successful physician and healer, in the presence of disease, will invariably show the presence of the bright, positive red in the aura, accompanied by the mental vibrations of strength, power and confidence, and the absence of fear. this in connection with the auric circle, which shall be described presently, will be of great value to healers, physicians, nurses, etc., as well as to those who are brought into intimate contact with sick persons. of practically the same degree of importance, is the charging of the aura with the vibrations of mental protection, viz, the vibrations of orange, yellow and similar colors. these are the colors of intellect, you will remember, and when the aura is charged and flooded with them it acts as a protection against the efforts of others to convince one against his will, by sophistical arguments, plausible reasoning, fallacious illustrations, etc. it gives to one a sort of mental illumination, quickening the perceptive faculties, and brightening up the reasoning and judging powers, and finally, giving a sharp edge to the powers of repartee and answer. if you will assume the right positive mental attitude, and will flood your aura with the vibrations of the mental orange-yellow, the mental efforts of other persons will rebound from your aura, or, to use another figure of speech, will slip from it like water from the back of the proverbial duck. it is well to carry the mental image of your head being surrounded by a golden aura or halo, at such times--this will be found especially efficacious as a protective helmet when you are assaulted by the intellect or arguments of others. and, again, there is a third form of protective aura, namely protection of one's emotional nature--and this is highly important, when one remembers how frequently we are moved to action by our emotions, rather than by our intellect or reason. to guard one's emotions, is to guard one's very inmost soul, so to speak. if we can protect our feeling and emotional side, we will be able to use our reasoning powers and intellect far more effectively, as all know by experience. what color should we use in this form of auric protection? can anyone be in doubt here, if he has read the preceding chapters? what is the emotional protective color?--why, blue, of course. blue controls this part of the mind or soul, and by raising ourselves into the vibrations of positive blue, we leave behind us the lower emotions and feelings, and are transported into the higher realms of the soul where these low vibrations and influences cannot follow us. in the same way, the blue colored aura will act as an armor to protect us from the contagion of the low passions and feelings of others. if you are subjected to evil influences, or contagion of those harboring low emotions and desires, you will do well to acquire the art of flooding your aura with the positive blue tints. make a study of bright, clear blues, and you will instinctively select the one best suited for your needs. nature gives us this instinctive knowledge, if we will but seek for it, and then apply it when found. the aura of great moral teachers, great priests and preachers, advanced occultists, in fact all men of lofty ideals working among those lower on the moral scale, are always found to be charged with a beautiful, clear blue, which acts as a protection to them when they are unduly exposed to moral or emotional contagion. ignorance of the occult laws have caused the downfall of many a great moral teacher, who could have protected himself in this way, in times of strong attack of low vibrations, had he but known the truth. the individual who knows this law, and who applies it, is rendered absolutely immune from evil contagion on the emotional plane of being. the great auric circle. but no occult instruction on this subject would be complete without a reference to the great auric circle of protection, which is a shelter to the soul, mind, and body, against outside psychic influences, directed, consciously or unconsciously against the individual. in these days of wide spread though imperfect, knowledge of psychic phenomena, it is especially important that one should be informed as to this great shield of protection. omitting all reference to the philosophy underlying it, it may be said that this auric circle is formed by making the mental image, accompanied by the demand of will, of the aura being surrounded by a great band of pure clear white light. a little perseverance will enable you to create this on the astral plane, and, though (unless you have the astral vision) you cannot see it actually, yet you will actually feel its protective presence, so that you will know that it is there guarding you. this white auric circle will be an effective and infallible armor against all forms of psychic attack or influence, no matter from whom it may emanate, or whether directed consciously or unconsciously. it is a perfect and absolute protection, and the knowledge of its protective power should be sufficient to drive fear from the heart of all who have dreaded psychic influence, "malicious animal magnetism" (so-called), or anything else of the kind, by whatever name known. it is also a protection against psychic vampirism, or draining of magnetic strength. the auric circle is, of course, really egg-shaped, or oval, for it fringes the aura as the shell cases the egg. see yourself, mentally, as surrounded by this great white auric circle of protection, and let the idea sink into your consciousness. realize its power over the influences from outside, and rejoice in the immunity it gives you. the auric circle, however, will admit any outside impressions that you really desire to come to you, while shutting out the others. that is, with this exception, that if your inner soul recognizes that some of these desired influences and impressions are apt to harm you (though your reason and feeling know it not) then will such impressions be denied admittance. for the white light is the radiation of spirit, which is higher than ordinary mind, emotion, or body and is master of all. and its power, even though we can but imperfectly represent it even mentally, is such that before its energy, and in its presence, in the aura, all lower vibrations are neutralized and disintegrated. the highest and deepest occult teaching is that the white light must never be used for purpose of attack or personal gain, but that it may properly be used by anyone, at any time, to protect against outside psychic influences against which the soul protests. it is the armor of the soul, and may well be employed whenever or wherever the need arises. throughout the pages of this little book have been scattered crumbs of teaching other than those concerning the aura alone. those for whom these are intended will recognize and appropriate them--the others will not see them, and will pass them by. one attracts his own to him. much seed must fall on waste places, in order that here and there a grain will find lodgment in rich soil awaiting its coming. true occult knowledge is practical power and strength. beware of prostituting the higher teachings for selfish ends and ignoble purposes. to guard and preserve your own will is right; to seek to impose your will upon that of another is wrong. passive resistance is often the strongest form of resistance--this is quite different from non-resistance. the end. none none [illustration] etidorhpa or the end of earth. the strange history of a mysterious being and the account of a remarkable journey as communicated in manuscript to llewellyn drury who promised to print the same, but finally evaded the responsibility which was assumed by john uri lloyd with many illustrations by j. augustus knapp sixth edition cincinnati the robert clarke company ascription. to prof. w. h. venable, who reviewed the manuscript of this work, i am indebted for many valuable suggestions, and i can not speak too kindly of him as a critic. the illustrations, excepting those mechanical and historical, making in themselves a beautiful narrative without words, are due to the admirable artistic conceptions and touch of mr. j. augustus knapp. structural imperfections as well as word selections and phrases that break all rules in composition, and that the care even of prof. venable could not eradicate, i accept as wholly my own. for much, on the one hand, that it may seem should have been excluded, and on the other, for giving place to ideas nearer to empiricism than to science, i am also responsible. for vexing my friends with problems that seemingly do not concern in the least men in my position, and for venturing to think, superficially, it may be, outside the restricted lines of a science bound to the unresponsive crucible and retort, to which my life has been given, and amid the problems of which it has nearly worn itself away, i have no plausible excuse, and shall seek none. john uri lloyd copyright, , by john uri lloyd. copyright, , by john uri lloyd. [_all rights reserved._] preface [illustration] books are as tombstones made by the living for the living, but destined soon only to remind us of the dead. the preface, like an epitaph, seems vainly to "implore the passing tribute" of a moment's interest. no man is allured by either a grave-inscription or a preface, unless it be accompanied by that ineffable charm which age casts over mortal productions. libraries, in one sense, represent cemeteries, and the rows of silent volumes, with their dim titles, suggest burial tablets, many of which, alas! mark only cenotaphs--empty tombs. a modern book, no matter how talented the author, carries with it a familiar personality which may often be treated with neglect or even contempt, but a volume a century old demands some reverence; a vellum-bound or hog-skin print, or antique yellow parchment, two, three, five hundred years old, regardless of its contents, impresses one with an indescribable feeling akin to awe and veneration,--as does the wheat from an egyptian tomb, even though it be only wheat. we take such a work from the shelf carefully, and replace it gently. while the productions of modern writers are handled familiarly, as men living jostle men yet alive; those of authors long dead are touched as tho' clutched by a hand from the unseen world; the reader feels that a phantom form opposes his own, and that spectral eyes scan the pages as he turns them. [illustration: "the stern face, ... across the gulf."] the stern face, the penetrating eye of the personage whose likeness forms the frontispiece of the yellowed volume in my hand, speak across the gulf of two centuries, and bid me beware. the title page is read with reverence, and the great tome is replaced with care, for an almost superstitious sensation bids me be cautious and not offend. let those who presume to criticise the intellectual productions of such men be careful; in a few days the dead will face their censors--dead. standing in a library of antiquated works, one senses the shadows of a cemetery. each volume adds to the oppression, each old tome casts the influence of its spirit over the beholder, for have not these old books spirits? the earth-grave covers the mind as well as the body of its moldering occupant, and while only a strong imagination can assume that a spirit hovers over and lingers around inanimate clay, here each title is a voice that speaks as though the heart of its creator still throbbed, the mind essence of the dead writer envelops the living reader. take down that vellum-bound volume,--it was written in one of the centuries long past. the pleasant face of its creator, as fresh as if but a print of yesterday, smiles upon you from the exquisitely engraved copper-plate frontispiece; the mind of the author rises from out the words before you. this man is not dead and his comrades live. turn to the shelves about, before each book stands a guardian spirit,--together they form a phantom army that, invisible to mortals, encircles the beholder. [illustration: "the pleasant face of its creator ... smiles upon you."] ah! this antique library is not as is a church graveyard, only a cemetery for the dead; it is also a mansion for the living. these alcoves are trysting places for elemental shades. essences of disenthralled minds meet here and revel. thoughts of the past take shape and live in this atmosphere,--who can say that pulsations unperceived, beyond the reach of physics or of chemistry, are not as ethereal mind-seeds which, although unseen, yet, in living brain, exposed to such an atmosphere as this, formulate embryotic thought-expressions destined to become energetic intellectual forces? i sit in such a weird library and meditate. the shades of grim authors whisper in my ear, skeleton forms oppose my own, and phantoms possess the gloomy alcoves of the library i am building. [illustration: "skeleton forms oppose my own."] with the object of carrying to the future a section of thought current from the past, the antiquarian libraries of many nations have been culled, and purchases made in every book market of the world. these books surround me. naturally many persons have become interested in the movement, and, considering it a worthy one, unite to further the project, for the purpose is not personal gain. thus it is not unusual for boxes of old chemical or pharmacal volumes to arrive by freight or express, without a word as to the donor. the mail brings manuscripts unprinted, and pamphlets recondite, with no word of introduction. they come unheralded. the authors or the senders realize that in this unique library a place is vacant if any work on connected subjects is missing, and thinking men of the world are uniting their contributions to fill such vacancies. * * * * * enough has been said concerning the ancient library that has bred these reflections, and my own personality does not concern the reader. he can now formulate his conclusions as well perhaps as i, regarding the origin of the manuscript that is to follow, if he concerns himself at all over subjects mysterious or historical, and my connection therewith is of minor importance. whether mr. drury brought the strange paper in person, or sent it by express or mail,--whether it was slipped into a box of books from foreign lands, or whether my hand held the pen that made the record,--whether i stood face to face with mr. drury in the shadows of this room, or have but a fanciful conception of his figure,--whether the artist drew upon his imagination for the vivid likeness of the several personages figured in the book that follows, or from reliable data has given fac-similes authentic,--is immaterial. sufficient be it to say that the manuscript of this book has been in my possession for a period of seven years, and my lips must now be sealed concerning all that transpired in connection therewith outside the subject-matter recorded therein. and yet i can not deny that for these seven years i have hesitated concerning my proper course, and more than once have decided to cover from sight the fascinating leaflets, hide them among surrounding volumes, and let them slumber until chance should bring them to the attention of the future student. these thoughts rise before me this gloomy day of december, , as, snatching a moment from the exactions of business, i sit among these old volumes devoted to science-lore, and again study over the unique manuscript, and meditate; i hesitate again: shall i, or shall i not?--but a duty is a duty. perhaps the mysterious part of the subject will be cleared to me only when my own thought-words come to rest among these venerable relics of the past--when books that i have written become companions of ancient works about me--for then i can claim relationship with the shadows that flit in and out, and can demand that they, the ghosts of the library, commune with the shade that guards the book that holds this preface. john uri lloyd. preface to this edition. the foot-note on page , with the connected matter, has awakened considerable interest in the life and fate of professor daniel vaughn. the undersigned has received many letters imparting interesting information relating to professor vaughn's early history, and asking many questions concerning a man of whose memory the writer thinks so highly but whose name is generally unknown. indeed, as some have even argued that the author of etidorhpa has no personal existence, the words john uri lloyd being a _nom de plume_, so others have accepted professor vaughn to have been a fanciful creation of the mystical author. professor daniel vaughn was one whose life lines ran nearly parallel with those of the late professor c. s. rafinesque, whose eventful history has been so graphically written by professor r. ellsworth call. the cups of these two talented men were filled with privation's bitterness, and in no other place has this writer known the phrase "the deadly parallel" so aptly appropriate. both came to america, scholars, scientists by education; both traveled through kentucky, teachers; both gave freely to the world, and both suffered in their old age, dying in poverty--rafinesque perishing in misery in philadelphia and vaughn in cincinnati. daniel vaughn was not a myth, and, in order that the reader may know something of the life and fate of this eccentric man, an appendix has been added to this edition of etidorhpa, in which a picture of his face is shown as the writer knew it in life, and in which brief mention is made of his record. the author here extends his thanks to professor richard nelson and to father eugene brady for their kindness to the readers of etidorhpa and himself, for to these gentlemen is due the credit of the appended historical note. j. u. l. a valuable and unique library. from the pharmaceutical era, new york, october, . in cincinnati is one of the most famous botanical and pharmacal libraries in the world, and by scientists it is regarded as an invaluable store of knowledge upon those branches of medical science. so famous is it that one of the most noted pharmacologists and chemists of germany, on a recent trip to this country, availed himself of its rich collection as a necessary means of completing his study in the line of special drug history. when it is known that he has devoted a life of nearly eighty years to the study of pharmacology, and is an emeritus professor in the famous university of strassburg, the importance of his action will be understood and appreciated. we refer to prof. frederick flueckiger, who, in connection with daniel hanbury, wrote pharmacographia and other standard works. attached to the library is an herbarium, begun by mr. curtis gates lloyd when a schoolboy, in which are to be found over , specimens of the flora of almost every civilized country on the globe. the collections are the work of two brothers, begun when in early boyhood. in money they are priceless, yet it is the intention of the founders that they shall be placed, either before or at their death, in some college or university where all students may have access to them without cost or favor, and their wills are already made to this end, although the institution to receive the bequest is not yet selected. eager requests have been made that they be sent to foreign universities, where only, some persons believe, they can receive the appreciation they deserve. the resting place of this collection is a neat three-story house at west court street, rebuilt to serve as a library building. on the door is a plate embossed with the name lloyd, the patronymic of the brothers in question. they are john uri and curtis gates lloyd. every hour that can be spent by these men from business or necessary recreation is spent here. mr. c. g. lloyd devotes himself entirely to the study of botany and connected subjects, while his brother is equally devoted to materia medica, pharmacy, and chemistry. in the botanical department are the best works obtainable in every country, and there the study of botany may be carried to any height. in point of age, some of them go back almost to the time when the art of printing was discovered. two copies of aristotle are notable. a greek version bound in vellum was printed in . another, in parallel columns of greek and latin, by pacius, was published in . both are in excellent preservation. a bibliographical rarity (two editions) is the "historia plantarum," by pinaeus, which was issued, one in , the other in . it appears to have been a first attempt at the production of colored plates. plants that were rare at that time are colored by hand, and then have a glossy fixative spread over them, causing the colors still to be as bright and fresh as the day that the three-hundred-years-dead workmen laid them on. ranged in their sequence are fifty volumes of the famous author, linnæus. mr. lloyd has a very complete list of the linnæan works, and his commissioners in europe and america are looking out for the missing volumes. an extremely odd work is the book of dr. josselyn, entitled "new england rarities," in which the puritan author discusses wisely on "byrds, beastes and fishes" of the new world. dr. carolus plumierus, a french savant, who flourished in , contributes an exhaustive work on the "flora of the antilles." he is antedated many years, however, by dr. john clayton, who is termed johannes claytonus, and dr. john frederick gronovius. these gentlemen collated a work entitled the "flora of virginia," which is among the first descriptions of botany in the united states. two venerable works are those of mattioli, an italian writer, who gave his knowledge to the world in , and levinus lemnius, who wrote "de miraculis occultis naturæ" in . the father of modern systematized botany is conceded to be mons. j. p. tournefort, whose comprehensive work was published in . it is the fortune of mr. lloyd to possess an original edition in good condition. his "histoire des plantes," paris ( ), is also on the shelves. in the modern department of the library are the leading french and german works. spanish and italian authors are also on the shelves, the lloyd collection of spanish flora being among the best extant. twenty-two volumes of rice paper, bound in bright yellow and stitched in silk, contain the flora of japan. all the leaves are delicately tinted by those unique flower-painters, the japanese. this rare work was presented to the lloyd library by dr. charles rice, of new york, who informed the lloyds that only one other set could be found in america. one of the most noted books in the collection of j. u. lloyd is a materia medica written by dr. david schoepf, a learned german scholar, who traveled through this country in . but a limited number of copies were printed, and but few are extant. one is in the erlangen library in germany. this mr. lloyd secured, and had it copied verbatim. in later years dr. charles rice obtained an original print, and exchanged it for that copy. a like work is that of dr. jonathan carver of the provincial troops in america, published in london in . it treats largely of canadian materia medica. manasseh cutler's work, , also adorns this part of the library. in addition to almost every work on this subject, mr. lloyd possesses complete editions of the leading serials and pharmaceutical lists published in the last three quarters of a century. another book, famous in its way, is barton's "collections toward a materia medica of the united states," published in , , and . several noted botanists and chemists have visited the library in recent years. prof. flueckiger formed the acquaintance of the lloyds through their work, "drugs and medicines of north america," being struck by the exhaustive references and foot-notes. students and lovers of the old art of copper-plate engraving especially find much in the ornate title pages and portraits to please their æsthetic sense. the founders are not miserly, and all students and delvers into the medical and botanical arts are always welcome. this library of rare books has been collected without ostentation and with the sole aim to benefit science and humanity. we must not neglect to state that the library is especially rich in books pertaining to the american eclectics and thomsonians. since it has been learned that this library is at the disposal of students and is to pass intact to some worthy institution of learning, donations of old or rare books are becoming frequent. contents. page. prologue--history of llewellyn drury, chapter. i. home of llewellyn drury--"never less alone than when alone," ii. a friendly conference with prof. chickering, iii. a second interview with the mysterious visitor, iv. a search for knowledge--the alchemistic letter, v. the writing of "my confession," vi. kidnapped, vii. a wild night--i am prematurely aged, viii. a lesson in mind study, ix. i can not establish my identity, x. my journey towards the end of earth begins--the adepts brotherhood, xi. my journey continues--instinct, xii. a cavern discovered--biswell's hill, xiii. the punch bowls and caverns of kentucky--"into the unknown country," xiv. farewell to god's sunshine--"the echo of the cry," xv. a zone of light, deep within the earth, xvi. vitalized darkness--the narrows in science, xvii. the fungus forest--enchantment, xviii. the food of man, xix. the cry from a distance--i rebel against continuing the journey, first interlude.--the narrative interrupted. xx. my unbidden guest proves his statements, and refutes my philosophy, my unbidden guest continues his manuscript. xxi. my weight disappearing, second interlude. xxii. the story again interrupted--my guest departs, xxiii. scientific men questioned--aristotle's ether, xxiv. the soliloquy of prof. daniel vaughn--"gravitation is the beginning and gravitation is the end: all earthly bodies kneel to gravitation," the unbidden guest returns to read his manuscript, continuing the narrative. xxv. the mother of a volcano--"you can not disprove, and you dare not admit," xxvi. motion from inherent energy--"lead me deeper into this expanding study," xxvii. sleep, dreams, nightmare--"strangle the life from my body," third interlude.--the narrative again interrupted. xxviii. a challenge--my unbidden guest accepts it, xxix. beware of biology--the science of the life of man--the old man relates a story as an object lesson, xxx. looking backward--the living brain, the manuscript continued. xxxi. a lesson on volcanoes--primary colors are capable of farther subdivision, xxxii. matter is retarded motion--"a wail of sadness inexpressible," xxxiii. "a study of true science is a study of god"--communing with angels, xxxiv. i cease to breathe, and yet live, xxxv. "a certain point within a circle"--men are as parasites on the roof of earth, xxxvi. the drinks of man, xxvii. the drunkard's voice, xxxviii. the drunkard's den, xxxix. among the drunkards, xl. further temptation--etidorhpa appears, xli. misery, xlii. eternity without time, fourth interlude. xliii. the last contest, the narrative continued. xliv. the fathomless abyss--the edge of the earth's shell, xlv. my heart-throb is stilled, and yet i live, xlvi. the inner circle, or the end of gravitation--in the bottomless gulf, xlvii. hearing without ears--"what will be the end?" xlviii. why and how--the straggling ray of light from those farthermost outreaches, xlix. oscillating through space--the earth shell above us, l. my weight annihilated--"tell me," i cried in alarm, "is this a living tomb?" li. is that a mortal?--"the end of earth," fifth interlude. lii. the last farewell, epilogue--letter accompanying the mysterious manuscript, illustrations. full-page. likeness of the--man--who--did--it. frontispiece page. preface introduction--"here lies the bones," etc. iii. "and to my amazement, saw a white-haired man." , . "the same glittering, horrible, mysterious knife." , . "fac-simile of the mysterious manuscript of i--am--the--man-- who--did--it." , . "my arms were firmly grasped by two persons." . "map of kentucky near entrance to cavern." , . "confronted by a singular looking being." , . "this struggling ray of sunlight is to be your last for years." , . "i was in a forest of colossal fungi." , . "monstrous cubical crystals." , . "far as the eye could reach the glassy barrier spread as a crystal mirror." , . "soliloquy of prof. daniel vaughn--'gravitation is the beginning, and gravitation is the end; all earthly bodies kneel to gravitation.'" , . "we came to a metal boat." , . "facing the open window he turned the pupils of his eyes upward." , . "we finally reached a precipitous bluff." , . "the wall descended perpendicularly to seemingly infinite depths." , . etidorhpa. , . "we passed through caverns filled with creeping reptiles." , . "flowers and structures beautiful, insects gorgeous." , . "with fear and trembling i crept on my knees to his side." , . diagram descriptive of journey from the kentucky cavern to the "end of earth," showing section of earth's crust. , . "suspended in vacancy, he seemed to float." , . "i stood alone in my room holding the mysterious manuscript." , . fac-simile of letter from i--am--the--man. . manuscript dedication of author's edition. , . half-page and text cuts. "the stern face." fac-simile, reduced from copper plate title page of the botanical work ( ), pages, of simonis paulli, d., a danish physician. original plate × - / inches. iv. "the pleasant face." fac-simile of the original copper plate frontispiece to the finely illustrated botanical work of joannes burmannus, m.d., descriptive of the plants collected by carolus plumierus. antique. original plate × inches. v. "skeleton forms oppose my own." photograph of john uri lloyd in the gloomy alcove of the antiquated library. vi. "let me have your answer now." . "i espied upon the table a long white hair." . "drew the knife twice across the front of the door-knob." . "i was taken from the vehicle, and transferred to a block-house." . "the dead man was thrown overboard." . "a mirror was thrust beneath my gaze." . "i am the man you seek." . "we approach daylight, i can see your face." . "seated himself on a natural bench of stone." . "an endless variety of stony figures." . cuts showing water and brine surfaces. . cuts showing earth chambers in which water rises above brine. . cuts showing that if properly connected, water and brine reverse the usual law as to the height of their surfaces. , . "i bounded upward fully six feet." . "i fluttered to the earth as a leaf would fall." . "we leaped over great inequalities." . "the bit of garment fluttered listlessly away to the distance, and then--vacancy." . cut showing that water may be made to flow from a tube higher than the surface of the water. . cut showing how an artesian fountain may be made without earth strata. . "rising abruptly, he grasped my hand." . "a brain, a living brain, my own brain." . "shape of drop of water in the earth cavern." . "we would skip several rods, alighting gently." . "an uncontrollable, inexpressible desire to flee." . "i dropped on my knees before him." . "handing me one of the halves, he spoke the single word, 'drink.'" . "each finger pointed towards the open way in front." . "telescoped energy spheres." . "space dirt on energy spheres." . "i drew back the bar of iron to smite the apparently defenseless being in the forehead." . "he sprung from the edge of the cliff into the abyss below, carrying me with him into its depths." . "the earth and its atmosphere." . prologue. my name was johannes llewellyn llongollyn drury. i was named llewellyn at my mother's desire, out of respect to her father, dr. evan llewellyn, the scientist and speculative philosopher, well known to curious students as the author of various rare works on occult subjects. the other given names were ancestral also, but when i reached the age of appreciation, they naturally became distasteful; so it is that in early youth i dropped the first and third of these cumbersome words, and retained only the second christian name. while perhaps the reader of these lines may regard this cognomen with less favor than either of the others, still i liked it, as it was the favorite of my mother, who always used the name in full; the world, however, contracted llewellyn to lew, much to the distress of my dear mother, who felt aggrieved at the liberty. after her death i decided to move to a western city, and also determined, out of respect to her memory, to select from and rearrange the letters of my several names, and construct therefrom three short, terse words, which would convey to myself only, the resemblance of my former name. hence it is that the cincinnati directory does not record my self-selected name, which i have no reason to bring before the public. to the reader my name is llewellyn drury. i might add that my ancestors were among the early settlers of what is now new york city, and were direct descendants of the early welsh kings; but these matters do not concern the reader, and it is not of them that i now choose to write. my object in putting down these preliminary paragraphs is simply to assure the reader of such facts, and such only, as may give him confidence in my personal sincerity and responsibility, in order that he may with a right understanding read the remarkable statements that occur in the succeeding chapters. the story i am about to relate is very direct, and some parts of it are very strange, not to say marvelous; but not on account of its strangeness alone do i ask for the narrative a reading;--that were mere trifling. what is here set down happened as recorded, but i shall not attempt to explain things which even to myself are enigmatical. let the candid reader read the story as i have told it, and make out of it what he can, or let him pass the page by unread--i shall not insist on claiming his further attention. only, if he does read, i beg him to read with an open mind, without prejudice and without predilection. who or what i am as a participant in this work is of small importance. i mention my history only for the sake of frankness and fairness. i have nothing to gain by issuing the volume. neither do i court praise nor shun censure. my purpose is to tell the truth. early in the fifties i took up my residence in the queen city, and though a very young man, found the employment ready that a friend had obtained for me with a manufacturing firm engaged in a large and complicated business. my duties were varied and peculiar, of such a nature as to tax body and mind to the utmost, and for several years i served in the most exacting of business details. besides the labor which my vocation entailed, with its manifold and multiform perplexities, i voluntarily imposed upon myself other tasks, which i pursued in the privacy of my own bachelor apartments. an inherited love for books on abstruse and occult subjects, probably in part the result of my blood connection with dr. evan llewellyn, caused me to collect a unique library, largely on mystical subjects, in which i took the keenest delight. my business and my professional duties by day, and my studies at night, made my life a busy one. in the midst of my work and reading i encountered the character whose strange story forms the essential part of the following narrative. i may anticipate by saying that the manuscript to follow only incidentally concerns myself, and that if possible i would relinquish all connection therewith. it recites the physical, mental, and moral adventures of one whose life history was abruptly thrust upon my attention, and as abruptly interrupted. the vicissitudes of his body and soul, circumstances seemed to compel me to learn and to make public. etidorpha. chapter i. "never less alone than when alone." more than thirty years ago occurred the first of the series of remarkable events i am about to relate. the exact date i can not recall; but it was in november, and, to those familiar with november weather in the ohio valley, it is hardly necessary to state that the month is one of possibilities. that is to say, it is liable to bring every variety of weather, from the delicious, dreamy indian summer days that linger late in the fall, to a combination of rain, hail, snow, sleet,--in short, atmospheric conditions sufficiently aggravating to develop a suicidal mania in any one the least susceptible to such influences. while the general character of the month is much the same the country over,--showing dull grey tones of sky, abundant rains that penetrate man as they do the earth; cold, shifting winds, that search the very marrow,--it is always safe to count more or less upon the probability of the unexpected throughout the month. the particular day which ushered in the event about to be chronicled, was one of these possible heterogeneous days presenting a combination of sunshine, shower, and snow, with winds that rang all the changes from balmy to blustery, a morning air of caloric and an evening of numbing cold. the early morning started fair and sunny; later came light showers suddenly switched by shifting winds into blinding sleet, until the middle of the afternoon found the four winds and all the elements commingled in one wild orgy with clashing and roaring as of a great organ with all the stops out, and all the storm-fiends dancing over the key-boards! nightfall brought some semblance of order to the sounding chaos, but still kept up the wild music of a typical november day, with every accompaniment of bleakness, gloom, and desolation. thousands of chimneys, exhaling murky clouds of bituminous soot all day, had covered the city with the proverbial pall which the winds in their sport had shifted hither and yon, but as, thoroughly tired out, they subsided into silence, the smoky mesh suddenly settled over the houses and into the streets, taking possession of the city and contributing to the melancholy wretchedness of such of the inhabitants as had to be out of doors. through this smoke the red sun when visible had dragged his downward course in manifest discouragement, and the hastening twilight soon gave place to the blackness of darkness. night reigned supreme. thirty years ago electric lighting was not in vogue, and the system of street lamps was far less complete than at present, although the gas burned in them may not have been any worse. the lamps were much fewer and farther between, and the light which they emitted had a feeble, sickly aspect, and did not reach any distance into the moist and murky atmosphere. and so the night was dismal enough, and the few people upon the street were visible only as they passed directly beneath the lamps, or in front of lighted windows; seeming at other times like moving shadows against a black ground. as i am like to be conspicuous in these pages, it may be proper to say that i am very susceptible to atmospheric influences. i figure among my friends as a man of quiet disposition, but i am at times morose, although i endeavor to conceal this fact from others. my nervous system is a sensitive weather-glass. sometimes i fancy that i must have been born under the planet saturn, for i find myself unpleasantly influenced by moods ascribed to that depressing planet, more especially in its disagreeable phases, for i regret to state that i do not find corresponding elation, as i should, in its brighter aspects. i have an especial dislike for wintry weather, a dislike which i find growing with my years, until it has developed almost into positive antipathy and dread. on the day i have described, my moods had varied with the weather. the fitfulness of the winds had found its way into my feelings, and the somber tone of the clouds into my meditations. i was restless as the elements, and a deep sense of dissatisfaction with myself and everything else, possessed me. i could not content myself in any place or position. reading was distasteful, writing equally so; but it occurred to me that a brisk walk, for a few blocks, might afford relief. muffling myself up in my overcoat and fur cap, i took the street, only to find the air gusty and raw, and i gave up in still greater disgust, and returning home, after drawing the curtains and locking the doors, planted myself in front of a glowing grate fire, firmly resolved to rid myself of myself by resorting to the oblivion of thought, reverie, or dream. to sleep was impossible, and i sat moodily in an easy chair, noting the quarter and half-hour strokes as they were chimed out sweetly from the spire of st. peter's cathedral, a few blocks away. nine o'clock passed with its silver-voiced song of "home, sweet home"; ten, and then eleven strokes of the ponderous bell which noted the hours, roused me to a strenuous effort to shake off the feelings of despondency, unrest, and turbulence, that all combined to produce a state of mental and physical misery now insufferable. rising suddenly from my chair, without a conscious effort i walked mechanically to a book-case, seized a volume at random, reseated myself before the fire, and opened the book. it proved to be an odd, neglected volume, "riley's dictionary of latin quotations." at the moment there flashed upon me a conscious duality of existence. had the old book some mesmeric power? i seemed to myself two persons, and i quickly said aloud, as if addressing my double: "if i can not quiet you, turbulent spirit, i can at least adapt myself to your condition. i will read this book haphazard from bottom to top, or backward, if necessary, and if this does not change the subject often enough, i will try noah webster." opening the book mechanically at page , i glanced at the bottom line and read, "nunquam minus solus quam cum solus" (never less alone than when alone). these words arrested my thoughts at once, as, by a singular chance, they seemed to fit my mood; was it or was it not some conscious invisible intelligence that caused me to select that page, and brought the apothegm to my notice? again, like a flash, came the consciousness of duality, and i began to argue with my other self. "this is arrant nonsense," i cried aloud; "even though cicero did say it, and, it is on a par with many other delusive maxims that have for so many years embittered the existence of our modern youth by misleading thought. do you know, mr. cicero, that this statement is not sound? that it is unworthy the position you occupy in history as a thinker and philosopher? that it is a contradiction in itself, for if a man is alone he is alone, and that settles it?" i mused in this vein a few moments, and then resumed aloud: "it won't do, it won't do; if one is alone--the word is absolute,--he is single, isolated, in short, alone; and there can by no manner of possibility be any one else present. take myself, for instance: i am the sole occupant of this apartment; i am alone, and yet you say in so many words that i was never less alone than at this instant." it was not without some misgiving that i uttered these words, for the strange consciousness of my own duality constantly grew stronger, and i could not shake off the reflection that even now there were two of myself in the room, and that i was not so much alone as i endeavored to convince myself. this feeling oppressed me like an incubus; i must throw it off, and, rising, i tossed the book upon the table, exclaiming: "what folly! i am alone,--positively there is no other living thing visible or invisible in the room." i hesitated as i spoke, for the strange, undefined sensation that i was not alone had become almost a conviction; but the sound of my voice encouraged me, and i determined to discuss the subject, and i remarked in a full, strong voice: "i am surely alone; i know i am! why, i will wager everything i possess, even to my soul, that i am alone." i stood facing the smoldering embers of the fire which i had neglected to replenish, uttering these words to settle the controversy for good and all with one person of my dual self, but the other ego seemed to dissent violently, when a soft, clear voice claimed my ear: "you have lost your wager; you are not alone." [illustration: "and to my amazement saw a white-haired man."] i turned instantly towards the direction of the sound, and, to my amazement, saw a white-haired man seated on the opposite side of the room, gazing at me with the utmost composure. i am not a coward, nor a believer in ghosts or illusions, and yet that sight froze me where i stood. it had no supernatural appearance--on the contrary, was a plain, ordinary, flesh-and-blood man; but the weather, the experiences of the day, the weird, inclement night, had all conspired to strain my nerves to the highest point of tension, and i trembled from head to foot. noting this, the stranger said pleasantly: "quiet yourself, my dear sir; you have nothing to fear; be seated." i obeyed, mechanically, and regaining in a few moments some semblance of composure, took a mental inventory of my visitor. who is he? what is he? how did he enter without my notice, and why? what is his business? were all questions that flashed into my mind in quick succession, and quickly flashed out unanswered. the stranger sat eying me composedly, even pleasantly, as if waiting for me to reach some conclusion regarding himself. at last i surmised: "he is a maniac who has found his way here by methods peculiar to the insane, and my personal safety demands that i use him discreetly." "very good," he remarked, as though reading my thoughts; "as well think that as anything else." "but why are you here? what is your business?" i asked. "you have made and lost a wager," he said. "you have committed an act of folly in making positive statements regarding a matter about which you know nothing--a very common failing, by the way, on the part of mankind, and concerning which i wish first to set you straight." the ironical coolness with which he said this provoked me, and i hastily rejoined: "you are impertinent; i must ask you to leave my house at once." "very well," he answered; "but if you insist upon this, i shall, on behalf of cicero, claim the stake of your voluntary wager, which means that i must first, by natural though violent means, release your soul from your body." so saying he arose, drew from an inner pocket a long, keen knife, the blade of which quiveringly glistened as he laid it upon the table. moving his chair so as to be within easy reach of the gleaming weapon, he sat down, and again regarded me with the same quiet composure i had noted, and which was fast dispelling my first impression concerning his sanity. i was not prepared for his strange action; in truth, i was not prepared for anything; my mind was confused concerning the whole night's doings, and i was unable to reason clearly or consecutively, or even to satisfy myself what i did think, if indeed i thought at all. the sensation of fear, however, was fast leaving me; there was something reassuring in my unbidden guest's perfect ease of manner, and the mild, though searching gaze of his eyes, which were wonderful in their expression. i began to observe his personal characteristics, which impressed me favorably, and yet were extraordinary. he was nearly six feet tall, and perfectly straight; well proportioned, with no tendency either to leanness or obesity. but his head was an object from which i could not take my eyes,--such a head surely i had never before seen on mortal shoulders. the chin, as seen through his silver beard, was rounded and well developed, the mouth straight, with pleasant lines about it, the jaws square and, like the mouth, indicating decision, the eyes deep set and arched with heavy eyebrows, and the whole surmounted by a forehead so vast, so high, that it was almost a deformity, and yet it did not impress me unpleasantly; it was the forehead of a scholar, a profound thinker, a deep student. the nose was inclined to aquiline, and quite large. the contour of the head and face impressed me as indicating a man of learning, one who had given a lifetime to experimental as well as speculative thought. his voice was mellow, clear, and distinct, always pleasantly modulated and soft, never loud nor unpleasant in the least degree. one remarkable feature i must not fail to mention--his hair; this, while thin and scant upon the top of his head, was long, and reached to his shoulders; his beard was of unusual length, descending almost to his waist; his hair, eyebrows, and beard were all of singular whiteness and purity, almost transparent, a silvery whiteness that seemed an aureolar sheen in the glare of the gaslight. what struck me as particularly remarkable was that his skin looked as soft and smooth as that of a child; there was not a blemish in it. his age was a puzzle none could guess; stripped of his hair, or the color of it changed, he might be twenty-five,--given a few wrinkles, he might be ninety. taken altogether, i had never seen his like, nor anything approaching his like, and for an instant there was a faint suggestion to my mind that he was not of this earth, but belonged to some other planet. i now fancy he must have read my impressions of him as these ideas shaped themselves in my brain, and that he was quietly waiting for me to regain a degree of self-possession that would allow him to disclose the purpose of his visit. he was first to break the silence: "i see that you are not disposed to pay your wager any more than i am to collect it, so we will not discuss that. i admit that my introduction to-night was abrupt, but you can not deny that you challenged me to appear." i was not clear upon the point, and said so. "your memory is at fault," he continued, "if you can not recall your experiences of the day just past. did you not attempt to interest yourself in modern book lore, to fix your mind in turn upon history, chemistry, botany, poetry, and general literature? and all these failing, did you not deliberately challenge cicero to a practical demonstration of an old apothegm of his that has survived for centuries, and of your own free will did not you make a wager that, as an admirer of cicero's, i am free to accept?" to all this i could but silently assent. "very good, then; we will not pursue this subject further, as it is not relevant to my purpose, which is to acquaint you with a narrative of unusual interest, upon certain conditions, with which if you comply, you will not only serve yourself, but me as well." "please name the conditions," i said. "they are simple enough," he answered. "the narrative i speak of is in manuscript. i will produce it in the near future, and my design is to read it aloud to you, or to allow you to read it to me, as you may select. further, my wish is that during the reading you shall interpose any objection or question that you deem proper. this reading will occupy many evenings, and i shall of necessity be with you often. when the reading is concluded, we will seal the package securely, and i shall leave you forever. you will then deposit the manuscript in some safe place, and let it remain for thirty years. when this period has elapsed, i wish you to publish this history to the world." "your conditions seem easy," i said, after a few seconds' pause. "they are certainly very simple; do you accept?" i hesitated, for the prospect of giving myself up to a succession of interviews with this extraordinary and mysterious personage seemed to require consideration. he evidently divined my thoughts, for, rising from his chair, he said abruptly: "let me have your answer now." i debated the matter no further, but answered: "i accept, conditionally." "name your conditions," the guest replied. "i will either publish the work, or induce some other man to do so." [illustration: "let me have your answer now."] "good," he said; "i will see you again," with a polite bow; and turning to the door which i had previously locked, he opened it softly, and with a quiet "good night" disappeared in the hall-way. i looked after him with bewildered senses; but a sudden impulse caused me to glance toward the table, when i saw that he had forgotten his knife. with the view of returning this, i reached to pick it up, but my finger tips no sooner touched the handle than a sudden chill shivered along my nerves. not as an electric shock, but rather as a sensation of extreme cold was the current that ran through me in an instant. rushing into the hall-way to the landing of the stairs, i called after the mysterious being, "you have forgotten your knife," but beyond the faint echo of my voice, i heard no sound. the phantom was gone. a moment later i was at the foot of the stairs, and had thrown open the door. a street lamp shed an uncertain light in front of the house. i stepped out and listened intently for a moment, but not a sound was audible, if indeed i except the beating of my own heart, which throbbed so wildly that i fancied i heard it. no footfall echoed from the deserted streets; all was silent as a churchyard, and i closed and locked the door softly, tiptoed my way back to my room, and sank collapsed into an easy chair. i was more than exhausted; i quivered from head to foot, not with cold, but with a strange nervous chill that found intensest expression in my spinal column, and seemed to flash up and down my back vibrating like a feverous pulse. this active pain was succeeded by a feeling of frozen numbness, and i sat i know not how long, trying to tranquilize myself and think temperately of the night's occurrence. by degrees i recovered my normal sensations, and directing my will in the channel of sober reasoning, i said to myself: "there can be no mistake about his visit, for his knife is here as a witness to the fact. so much is sure, and i will secure that testimony at all events." with this reflection i turned to the table, but to my astonishment i discovered that the knife had disappeared. it needed but this miracle to start the perspiration in great cold beads from every pore. my brain was in a whirl, and reeling into a chair, i covered my face with my hands. how long i sat in this posture i do not remember. i only know that i began to doubt my own sanity, and wondered if this were not the way people became deranged. had not my peculiar habits of isolation, irregular and intense study, erratic living, all conspired to unseat reason? surely here was every ground to believe so; and yet i was able still to think consistently and hold steadily to a single line of thought. insane people can not do that, i reflected, and gradually the tremor and excitement wore away. when i had become calmer and more collected, and my sober judgment said, "go to bed; sleep just as long as you can; hold your eyelids down, and when you awake refreshed, as you will, think out the whole subject at your leisure," i arose, threw open the shutters, and found that day was breaking. hastily undressing i went to bed, and closed my eyes, vaguely conscious of some soothing guardianship. perhaps because i was physically exhausted, i soon lost myself in the oblivion of sleep. [illustration: "i espied upon the table a long white hair."] i did not dream,--at least i could not afterwards remember my dream if i had one, but i recollect thinking that somebody struck ten distinct blows on my door, which seemed to me to be of metal and very sonorous. these ten blows in my semi-conscious state i counted. i lay very quiet for a time collecting my thoughts and noting various objects about the room, until my eye caught the dial of a french clock upon the mantel. it was a few minutes past ten, and the blows i had heard were the strokes of the hammer upon the gong in the clock. the sun was shining into the room, which was quite cold, for the fire had gone out. i arose, dressed myself quickly, and after thoroughly laving my face and hands in ice-cold water, felt considerably refreshed. before going out to breakfast, while looking around the room for a few things which i wanted to take with me, i espied upon the table a long white hair. this was indeed a surprise, for i had about concluded that my adventure of the previous night was a species of waking nightmare, the result of overworked brain and weakened body. but here was tangible evidence to the contrary, an assurance that my mysterious visitor was not a fancy or a dream, and his parting words, "i will see you again," recurred to me with singular effect. "he will see me again; very well; i will preserve this evidence of his visit for future use." i wound the delicate filament into a little coil, folded it carefully in a bit of paper, and consigned it to a corner in my pocket-book, though not without some misgiving that it too might disappear as did the knife. the strange experience of that night had a good effect on me; i became more regular in all my habits, took abundant sleep and exercise, was more methodical in my modes of study and reasoning, and in a short time found myself vastly improved in every way, mentally and physically. the days went fleeting into weeks, the weeks into months, and while the form and figure of the white-haired stranger were seldom absent from my mind, he came no more. chapter ii. a friendly conference. it is rare, in our present civilization, to find a man who lives alone. this remark does not apply to hermits or persons of abnormal or perverted mental tendencies, but to the majority of mankind living and moving actively among their fellows, and engaged in the ordinary occupations of humanity. every man must have at least one confidant, either of his own household, or within the circle of his intimate friends. there may possibly be rare exceptions among persons of genius in statecraft, war, or commerce, but it is doubtful even in such instances if any keep all their thoughts to themselves, hermetically sealed from their fellows. as a prevailing rule, either a loving wife or very near friend shares the inner thought of the most secretive individual, even when secrecy seems an indispensable element to success. the tendency to a free interchange of ideas and experiences is almost universal, instinct prompting the natural man to unburden his most sacred thought, when the proper confidant and the proper time come for the disclosure. for months i kept to myself the events narrated in the preceding chapter. and this for several reasons: first, the dread of ridicule that would follow the relation of the fantastic occurrences, and the possible suspicion of my sanity, that might result from the recital; second, very grave doubts as to the reality of my experiences. but by degrees self-confidence was restored, as i reasoned the matter over and reassured myself by occasional contemplation of the silvery hair i had coiled in my pocket-book, and which at first i had expected would vanish as did the stranger's knife. there came upon me a feeling that i should see my weird visitor again, and at an early day. i resisted this impression, for it was a feeling of the idea, rather than a thought, but the vague expectation grew upon me in spite of myself, until at length it became a conviction which no argument or logic could shake. curiously enough, as the original incident receded into the past, this new idea thrust itself into the foreground, and i began in my own mind to court another interview. at times, sitting alone after night, i felt that i was watched by unseen eyes; these eyes haunted me in my solitude, and i was morally sure of the presence of another than myself in the room. the sensation was at first unpleasant, and i tried to throw it off, with partial success. but only for a little while could i banish the intrusive idea, and as the thought took form, and the invisible presence became more actual to consciousness, i hoped that the stranger would make good his parting promise, "i will see you again." on one thing i was resolved; i would at least be better informed on the subject of hallucinations and apparitions, and not be taken unawares as i had been. to this end i decided to confer with my friend, professor chickering, a quiet, thoughtful man, of varied accomplishments, and thoroughly read upon a great number of topics, especially in the literature of the marvelous. so to the professor i went, after due appointment, and confided to him full particulars of my adventure. he listened patiently throughout, and when i had finished, assured me in a matter-of-fact way that such hallucinations were by no means rare. his remark was provoking, for i did not expect from the patient interest he had shown while i was telling my story, that the whole matter would be dismissed thus summarily. i said with some warmth: "but this was not a hallucination. i tried at first to persuade myself that it was illusory, but the more i have thought the experience over, the more real it becomes to me." "perhaps you were dreaming," suggested the professor. "no," i answered; "i have tried that hypothesis, and it will not do. many things make that view untenable." "do not be too sure of that," he said; "you were, by your own account, in a highly nervous condition, and physically tired. it is possible, perhaps probable, that in this state, as you sat in your chair, you dozed off for a short interval, during which the illusion flashed through your mind." "how do you explain the fact that incidents occupying a large portion of the night, occurred in an interval which you describe as a flash?" "easily enough; in dreams time may not exist: periods embracing weeks or months may be reduced to an instant. long journeys, hours of conversation, or a multitude of transactions, may be compressed into a term measured by the opening or closing of a door, or the striking of a clock. in dreams, ordinary standards of reason find no place, while ideas or events chase through the mind more rapidly than thought." "conceding all this, why did i, considering the unusual character of the incidents, accept them as real, as substantial, as natural as the most commonplace events?" "there is nothing extraordinary in that," he replied. "in dreams all sorts of absurdities, impossibilities, discordancies, and violation of natural law appear realities, without exciting the least surprise or suspicion. imagination runs riot and is supreme, and reason for the time is dormant. we see ghosts, spirits, the forms of persons dead or living,--we suffer pain, pleasure, hunger,--and all sensations and emotions, without a moment's question of their reality." "do any of the subjects of our dreams or visions leave tangible evidences of their presence?" "assuredly not," he answered, with an incredulous, half-impatient gesture; "the idea is absurd." "then i was not dreaming," i mused. without looking at me, the professor went on: "these false presentiments may have their origin in other ways, as from mental disorders caused by indigestion. nicolai, a noted bookseller of berlin, was thus afflicted. his experiences are interesting and possibly suggestive. let me read some of them to you." the professor hereupon glanced over his bookshelf, selected a volume, and proceeded to read:[ ] [ ] this work i have found to be vol. iv. of chambers' miscellany, published by gould and lincoln, boston.--j. u. l. "i generally saw human forms of both sexes; but they usually seemed not to take the smallest notice of each other, moving as in a market place, where all are eager to press through the crowd; at times, however, they seemed to be transacting business with each other. i also saw several times, people on horseback, dogs, and birds. "all these phantasms appeared to me in their natural size, and as distinct as if alive, exhibiting different shades of carnation in the uncovered parts, as well as different colors and fashions in their dresses, though the colors seemed somewhat paler than in real nature. none of the figures appeared particularly terrible, comical, or disgusting, most of them being of indifferent shape, and some presenting a pleasant aspect. the longer these phantasms continued to visit me, the more frequently did they return, while at the same time they increased in number about four weeks after they had first appeared. i also began to hear them talk: these phantoms conversed among themselves, but more frequently addressed their discourse to me; their speeches were uncommonly short, and never of an unpleasant turn. at different times there appeared to me both dear and sensible friends of both sexes, whose addresses tended to appease my grief, which had not yet wholly subsided: their consolatory speeches were in general addressed to me when i was alone. sometimes, however, i was accosted by these consoling friends while i was engaged in company, and not unfrequently while real persons were speaking to me. these consolatory addresses consisted sometimes of abrupt phrases, and at other times they were regularly executed." here i interrupted: "i note, professor, that mr. nicolai knew these forms to be illusions." without answering my remark, he continued to read: "there is in imagination a potency far exceeding the fabled power of aladdin's lamp. how often does one sit in wintry evening musings, and trace in the glowing embers the features of an absent friend? imagination, with its magic wand, will there build a city with its countless spires, or marshal contending armies, or drive the tempest-shattered ship upon the ocean. the following story, related by scott, affords a good illustration of this principle: "'not long after the death of an illustrious poet, who had filled, while living, a great station in the eyes of the public, a literary friend, to whom the deceased had been well known, was engaged during the darkening twilight of an autumn evening, in perusing one of the publications which professed to detail the habits and opinions of the distinguished individual who was now no more. as the reader had enjoyed the intimacy of the deceased to a considerable degree, he was deeply interested in the publication, which contained some particulars relating to himself and other friends. a visitor was sitting in the apartment, who was also engaged in reading. their sitting-room opened into an entrance hall, rather fantastically fitted up with articles of armor, skins of wild animals, and the like. it was when laying down his book, and passing into this hall, through which the moon was beginning to shine, that the individual of whom i speak saw right before him, in a standing posture, the exact representation of his departed friend, whose recollection had been so strongly brought to his imagination. he stopped for a single moment, so as to notice the wonderful accuracy with which fancy had impressed upon the bodily eye the peculiarities of dress and position of the illustrious poet. sensible, however, of the delusion, he felt no sentiment save that of wonder at the extraordinary accuracy of the resemblance, and stepped onward to the figure, which resolved itself as he approached into the various materials of which it was composed. these were merely a screen occupied by great coats, shawls, plaids, and such other articles as are usually found in a country entrance hall. the spectator returned to the spot from which he had seen the illusion, and endeavored with all his power to recall the image which had been so singularly vivid. but this he was unable to do. and the person who had witnessed the apparition, or, more properly, whose excited state had been the means of raising it, had only to return to the apartment, and tell his young friend under what a striking hallucination he had for a moment labored.'" here i was constrained to call the professor to a halt. "your stories are very interesting," i said, "but i fail to perceive any analogy in either the conditions or the incidents, to my experience. i was fully awake and conscious at the time, and the man i saw appeared and moved about in the full glare of the gaslight,--" "perhaps not," he answered; "i am simply giving you some general illustrations of the subject. but here is a case more to the point." again he read: "a lady was once passing through a wood, in the darkening twilight of a stormy evening, to visit a friend who was watching over a dying child. the clouds were thick--the rain beginning to fall; darkness was increasing; the wind was moaning mournfully through the trees. the lady's heart almost failed her as she saw that she had a mile to walk through the woods in the gathering gloom. but the reflection of the situation of her friend forbade her turning back. excited and trembling, she called to her aid a nervous resolution, and pressed onward. she had not proceeded far when she beheld in the path before her the movement of some very indistinct object. it appeared to keep a little distance ahead of her, and as she made efforts to get nearer to see what it was, it seemed proportionally to recede. the lady began to feel rather unpleasantly. there was some pale white object certainly discernible before her, and it appeared mysteriously to float along, at a regular distance, without any effort at motion. notwithstanding the lady's good sense and unusual resolution, a cold chill began to come over her. she made every effort to resist her fears, and soon succeeded in drawing nearer the mysterious object, when she was appalled at beholding the features of her friend's child, cold in death, wrapt in its shroud. she gazed earnestly, and there it remained distinct and clear before her eyes. she considered it a premonition that her friend's child was dead, and that she must hasten to her aid. but there was the apparition directly in her path. she must pass it. taking up a little stick, she forced herself along to the object, and behold, some little animal scampered away. it was this that her excited imagination had transformed into the corpse of an infant in its winding sheet." i was a little irritated, and once more interrupted the reader warmly: "this is exasperating. now what resemblance is there between the vagaries of a hysterical, weak-minded woman, and my case?" he smiled, and again read: "the numerous stories told of ghosts, or the spirits of persons who are dead, will in most instances be found to have originated in diseased imagination, aggravated by some abnormal defect of mind. we may mention a remarkable case in point, and one which is not mentioned in english works on this subject; it is told by a compiler of les causes célèbres. two young noblemen, the marquises de rambouillet and de precy, belonging to two of the first families of france, made an agreement, in the warmth of their friendship, that the one who died first should return to the other with tidings of the world to come. soon afterwards de rambouillet went to the wars in flanders, while de precy remained at paris, stricken by a fever. lying alone in bed, and severely ill, de precy one day heard a rustling of his bed curtains, and turning round, saw his friend de rambouillet, in full military attire. the sick man sprung over the bed to welcome his friend, but the other receded, and said that he had come to fulfill his promise, having been killed on that very day. he further said that it behooved de precy to think more of the afterworld, as all that was said of it was true, and as he himself would die in his first battle. de precy was then left by the phantom; and it was afterward found that de rambouillet had fallen on that day." "ah," i said, "and so the phantom predicted an event that followed as indicated." "spiritual illusions," explained the professor, "are not unusual, and well authenticated cases are not wanting in which they have been induced in persons of intelligence by functional or organic disorders. in the last case cited, the prediction was followed by a fulfillment, but this was chance or mere coincidence. it would be strange indeed if in the multitude of dreams that come to humanity, some few should not be followed by events so similar as to warrant the belief that they were prefigured. but here is an illustration that fits your case: let me read it: "in some instances it may be difficult to decide whether spectral appearances and spectral noises proceed from physical derangement or from an overwrought state of mind. want of exercise and amusement may also be a prevailing cause. a friend mentions to us the following case: an acquaintance of his, a merchant, in london, who had for years paid very close attention to business, was one day, while alone in his counting house, very much surprised to hear, as he imagined, persons outside the door talking freely about him. thinking it was some acquaintances who were playing off a trick, he opened the door to request them to come in, when to his amazement, he found that nobody was there. he again sat down to his desk, and in a few minutes the same dialogue recommenced. the language was very alarming. one voice seemed to say: 'we have the scoundrel in his own counting house; let us go in and seize him.' 'certainly,' replied the other voice, 'it is right to take him; he has been guilty of a great crime, and ought to be brought to condign punishment.' alarmed at these threats, the bewildered merchant rushed to the door; and there again no person was to be seen. he now locked his door and went home; but the voices, as he thought, followed him through the crowd, and he arrived at his house in a most unenviable state of mind. inclined to ascribe the voices to derangement in mind, he sent for a medical attendant, and told his case, and a certain kind of treatment was prescribed. this, however, failed; the voices menacing him with punishment for purely imaginary crimes continued, and he was reduced to the brink of despair. at length a friend prescribed entire relaxation from business, and a daily game of cricket, which, to his great relief, proved an effectual remedy. the exercise banished the phantom voices, and they were no more heard." "so you think that i am in need of out-door exercise?" "exactly." "and that my experience was illusory, the result of vertigo, or some temporary calenture of the brain?" "to be plain with you, yes." "but i asked you a while ago if specters or phantoms ever leave tangible evidence of their presence." the professor's eyes dilated in interrogation. i continued: "well, this one did. after i had followed him out, i found on the table a long, white hair, which i still have," and producing the little coil from my pocket-book, i handed it to him. he examined it curiously, eyed me furtively, and handed it back with the cautious remark: "i think you had better commence your exercise at once." chapter iii. a second interview with the mysterious visitor. it is not pleasant to have one's mental responsibility brought in question, and the result of my interview with professor chickering was, to put it mildly, unsatisfactory. not that he had exactly questioned my sanity, but it was all too evident that he was disposed to accept my statement of a plain matter-of-fact occurrence with a too liberal modicum of salt. i say "matter-of-fact occurrence" in full knowledge of the truth that i myself had at first regarded the whole transaction as a fantasia or flight of mind, the result of extreme nervous tension; but in the interval succeeding i had abundant opportunity to correlate my thoughts, and to bring some sort of order out of the mental and physical chaos of that strange, eventful night. true, the preliminary events leading up to it were extraordinary; the dismal weather, the depression of body and spirit under which i labored, the wild whirl of thought keeping pace with the elements--in short, a general concatenation of events that seemed to be ordered especially for the introduction of some abnormal visitor--the night would indeed have been incomplete without a ghost! but was it a ghost? there was nothing ghostly about my visitor, except the manner of his entrance and exit. in other respects, he seemed substantial enough. he was, in his manners, courteous and polished as a chesterfield; learned as a savant in his conversation; human in his thoughtful regard of my fears and misgivings; but that tremendous forehead, with its crown of silver hair, the long, translucent beard of pearly whiteness, and above all the astounding facility with which he read my hidden thoughts--these were not natural. the professor had been patient with me--i had a right to expect that; he was entertaining to the extent of reading such excerpts as he had with him on the subject of hallucinations and their supposed causes, but had he not spoiled all by assigning me at last to a place with the questionable, unbalanced characters he had cited? i thought so, and the reflection provoked me; and this thought grew upon me until i came to regard his stories and attendant theories as so much literary trash. my own reflections had been sober and deliberate, and had led me to seek a rational explanation of the unusual phenomena. i had gone to professor chickering for a certain measure of sympathy, and what was more to the point, to secure his suggestions and assistance in the further unraveling of a profound mystery that might contain a secret of untold use to humanity. repulsed by the mode in which my confidence had been received, i decided to do what i should have done from the outset--to keep my own counsel, and to follow alone the investigation to the end, no matter what the result might be. i could not forget or ignore the silver hair i had so religiously preserved. that was genuine; it was as tangible, as real, as convincing a witness as would have been the entire head of my singular visitant, whatever might be his nature. i began to feel at ease the moment my course was decided, and the feeling was at once renewed within me that the gray head would come again, and by degrees that expectation ripened into a desire, only intensified as the days sped by. the weeks passed into months; summer came and went; autumn was fast fading, but the mysterious unknown did not appear. a curious fancy led me now to regard him as my friend, for the mixed and indefinite feelings i felt at first towards him had almost unaccountably been changed to those of sincere regard. he was not always in my thoughts, for i had abundant occupation at all times to keep both brain and hands busy, but there were few evenings in which i did not, just before retiring, give myself up for a brief period to quiet communion with my own thoughts, and i must confess at such times the unknown occupied the larger share of attention. the constant contemplation of any theme begets a feeling of familiarity or acquaintance with the same, and if that subject be an individual, as in the present instance, such contemplation lessens the liability to surprise from any unexpected development. in fact, i not only anticipated a visit, but courted it. the old latin maxim that i had played with, "never less alone than when alone" had domiciled itself within my brain as a permanent lodger--a conviction, a feeling rather than a thought defined, and i had but little difficulty in associating an easy-chair which i had come to place in a certain position for my expected visitor, with his presence. indian summer had passed, and the fall was nearly gone when for some inexplicable reason the number seven began to haunt me. what had i to do with seven, or seven with me? when i sat down at night this persistent number mixed itself in my thoughts, to my intense annoyance. bother take the mystic numeral! what was i to do with seven? i found myself asking this question audibly one evening, when it suddenly occurred to me that i would refer to the date of my friend's visit. i kept no journal, but reference to a record of some business transactions that i had associated with that event showed that it took place on november seventh. that settled the importunate seven! i should look for whomever he was on the first anniversary of his visit, which was the seventh, now close at hand. the instant i had reached this conclusion the number left me, and troubled me no more. november third had passed, the fourth, and the fifth had come, when a stubborn, protesting notion entered my mind that i was yielding to a superstitious idea, and that it was time to control my vacillating will. accordingly on this day i sent word to a friend that, if agreeable to him, i would call on him on the evening of the seventh for a short social chat, but as i expected to be engaged until later than usual, would he excuse me if i did not reach his apartments until ten? the request was singular, but as i was now accounted somewhat odd, it excited no comment, and the answer was returned, requesting me to come. the seventh of november came at last. i was nervous during the day, which seemed to drag tediously, and several times it was remarked of me that i seemed abstracted and ill at ease, but i held my peace. night came cold and clear, and the stars shone brighter than usual, i thought. it was a sharp contrast to the night of a year ago. i took an early supper, for which i had no appetite, after which i strolled aimlessly about the streets, revolving how i should put in the time till ten o'clock, when i was to call upon my friend. i decided to go to the theater, and to the theater i went. the play was spectacular, "aladdin; or, the wonderful lamp." the entertainment, to me, was a flat failure, for i was busy with my thoughts, and it was not long until my thoughts were busy with me, and i found myself attempting to answer a series of questions that finally became embarrassing. "why did you make an appointment for ten o'clock instead of eight, if you wished to keep away from your apartments?" i hadn't thought of that before; it was stupid to a degree, if not ill-mannered, and i frankly admitted as much. "why did you make an appointment at all, in the face of the fact that you not only expected a visitor, but were anxious to meet him?" this was easily answered: because i did not wish to yield to what struck me as superstition. "but do you expect to extend your call until morning?" well, no, i hadn't thought or arranged to do so. "well, then, what is to prevent your expected guest from awaiting your return? or, what assurance have you that he will not encounter you in the street, under circumstances that will provoke or, at the least, embarrass you?" none whatever. "then what have you gained by your stupid perversity?" nothing, beyond the assertion of my own individuality. "why not go home and receive your guest in becoming style?" no; i would not do that. i had started on this course, and i would persevere in it. i would be consistent. and so i persisted, at least until nine o'clock, when i quit the theater in sullen dejection, and went home to make some slight preparation for my evening call. with my latch-key i let myself into the front door of the apartment house wherein i lodged, walked through the hall, up the stair-case, and paused on the threshold of my room, wondering what i would find inside. opening the door i entered, leaving it open behind me so that the light from the hall-way would shine into the room, which was dark, and there was no transom above the door. the grate fire had caked into a solid mass of charred bituminous coal, which shed no illumination beyond a faint red glow at the bottom, showing that it was barely alive, and no more. i struck a match on the underside of the mantel shelf, and as i lit the gas i heard the click of the door latch. i turned instantly; the door had been gently closed by some unknown force if not by unseen hands, for there was no breath of air stirring. this preternatural interference was not pleasant, for i had hoped in the event of another visit from my friend, if friend he was, that he would bring no uncanny or ghostly manifestation to disturb me. i looked at the clock; the index pointed to half past nine. i glanced about the room; it was orderly, everything in proper position, even to the arm-chair that i had been wont to place for my nondescript visitor. it was time to be going, so i turned to the dressing case, brushed my hair, put on a clean scarf, and moved towards the wash-stand, which stood in a little alcove on the opposite side of the room. my self-command well-nigh deserted me as i did so, for there, in the arm-chair that a moment before was empty, sat my guest of a year ago, facing me with placid features! the room began to revolve, a faint, sick feeling came over me, and i reeled into the first convenient chair, and covered my face with my hands. this depression lasted but an instant, however, and as i recovered self-possession, i felt or fancied i felt a pair of penetrating eyes fixed upon me with the same mild, searching gaze i remembered so well. i ventured to look up; sure enough, there they were, the beaming eyes, and there was he! rising from his chair, he towered up to his full height, smiled pleasantly, and with a slight inclination of the head, murmured: "permit me to wish you good evening; i am profoundly glad to meet you again." it was full a minute before i could muster courage to answer: "i wish i could say as much for myself." "and why shouldn't you?" he said, gently and courteously; "you have realized, for the past six months, that i would return; more than that--you have known for some time the very day and almost the exact hour of my coming, have even wished for it, and, in the face of all this, i find you preparing to evade the requirements of common hospitality;--are you doing either me or yourself justice?" i was nettled at the knowledge he displayed of my movements, and of my very thoughts; my old stubbornness asserted itself, and i was rude enough to say: "perhaps it is as you say; at all events, i am obligated to keep an engagement, and with your permission will now retire." it was curious to mark the effect of this speech upon the intruder. he immediately became grave, reached quietly into an inner pocket of his coat, drew thence the same glittering, horrible, mysterious knife that had so terrified and bewildered me a year before, and looking me steadily in the eye, said coldly, yet with a certain tone of sadness: "well, i will not grant permission. it is unpleasant to resort to this style of argument, but i do it to save time and controversy." i stepped back in terror, and reached for the old-fashioned bell-cord, with the heavy tassel at the end, that depended from the ceiling, and was on the point of grasping and giving it a vigorous pull. "not so fast, if you please," he said, sternly, as he stepped forward, and gave the knife a rapid swish through the air above my head, causing the cord to fall in a tangle about my hand, cut cleanly, high above my reach! i gazed in dumb stupor at the rope about my hand, and raised my eyes to the remnant above. that was motionless; there was not the slightest perceptible vibration, such as would naturally be expected. i turned to look at my guest; he had resumed his seat, and had also regained his pleasant expression, but he still held the knife in his hand with his arm extended, at rest, upon the table, which stood upon his right. [illustration: "the same glittering, mysterious knife."] "let us have an end to this folly," he said; "think a moment, and you will see that you are in fault. your error we will rectify easily, and then to business. i will first show you the futility of trying to escape this interview, and then we will proceed to work, for time presses, and there is much to do." having delivered this remark, he detached a single silvery hair from his head, blew it from his fingers, and let it float gently upon the upturned edge of the knife, which was still resting on the table. the hair was divided as readily as had been the bell-cord. i was transfixed with astonishment, for he had evidently aimed to exhibit the quality of the blade, though he made no allusion to the feat, but smilingly went on with his discourse: "it is just a year ago to-night since we first met. upon that occasion you made an agreement with me which you are in honor bound to keep, and--" here he paused as if to note the effect of his words upon me, then added significantly--"will keep. i have been at some pains to impress upon your mind the fact that i would be here to-night. you responded, and knew that i was coming, and yet in obedience to a silly whim, deliberately made a meaningless engagement with no other purpose than to violate a solemn obligation. i now insist that you keep your prior engagement with me, but i do not wish that you should be rude to your friend, so you had better write him a polite note excusing yourself, and dispatch it at once." i saw that he was right, and that there was no shadow of justification for my conduct, or at least i was subdued by his presence, so i wrote the note without delay, and was casting about for some way to send it, when he said: "fold it, seal it, and address it; you seem to forget what is proper." i did as he directed, mechanically, and, without thinking what i was doing, handed it to him. he took it naturally, glanced at the superscription, went to the door which he opened slightly, and handed the billet as if to some messenger who seemed to be in waiting outside,--then closed and locked the door. turning toward me with the apparent object of seeing if i was looking, he deftly drew his knife twice across the front of the door-knob, making a deep cross, and then deposited the knife in his pocket, and resumed his seat.[ ] [ ] i noted afterward that the door-knob, which was of solid metal, was cut deeply, as though made of putty. as soon as he was comfortably seated, he again began the conversation: "now that we have settled the preliminaries, i will ask if you remember what i required of you a year ago?" i thought that i did. "please repeat it; i wish to make sure that you do, then we will start fair." "in the first place, you were to present me with a manuscript--" "hardly correct," he interrupted; "i was to acquaint you with a narrative which is already in manuscript, acquaint you with it, read it to you, if you preferred not to read it to me--" "i beg your pardon," i answered; "that is correct. you were to read the manuscript to me, and during the reading i was to interpose such comments, remarks, or objections, as seemed proper; to embody as interludes, in the manuscript, as my own interpolations, however, and not as part of the original." "very good," he replied, "you have the idea exactly; proceed." "i agreed that when the reading had been completed, i would seal the complete manuscript securely, deposit it in some safe place, there to remain for thirty years, when it must be published." [illustration: "drew his knife twice across the front of the door-knob."] "just so," he answered; "we understand each other as we should. before we proceed further, however, can you think of any point on which you need enlightenment? if so, ask such questions as you choose, and i will answer them." i thought for a moment, but no query occurred to me; after a pause he said: "well, if you think of nothing now, perhaps hereafter questions will occur to you which you can ask; but as it is late, and you are tired, we will not commence now. i will see you just one week from to-night, when we will begin. from that time on, we will follow the subject as rapidly as you choose, but see to it that you make no engagements that will interfere with our work, for i shall be more exacting in the future." i promised, and he rose to go. a sudden impulse seized me, and i said: "may i ask one question?" "certainly." "what shall i call you?" "why call me aught? it is not necessary in addressing each other that any name be used." "but what are you?" i persisted. a pained expression for an instant rested upon his face, and he said, sadly, pausing between the words: "i--am--the--man who--did--it." "did what?" "ask not; the manuscript will tell you. be content, llewellyn, and remember this, that i--am--the--man." so saying he bade me good night, opened the door, and disappeared down the broad stair-case. one week thereafter he appeared promptly, seated himself, and producing a roll of manuscript, handed it to me, saying, "i am listening; you may begin to read." on examination i found each page to be somewhat larger than a sheet of letter paper, with the written matter occupying a much smaller space, so as to leave a wide white border. one hundred pages were in the package. the last sentence ending abruptly indicated that my guest did not expect to complete his task in one evening, and, i may anticipate by saying that with each successive interview he drew about the same amount of writing from his bosom. upon attempting to read the manuscript i at first found myself puzzled by a style of chirography very peculiar and characteristic, but execrably bad. vainly did i attempt to read it; even the opening sentence was not deciphered without long inspection and great difficulty. the old man, whom i had promised that i would fulfill the task, observing my discomfiture, relieved me of the charge, and without a word of introduction, read fluently as follows: the manuscript of i--am--the--man. chapter iv. a search for knowledge.--the alchemistic letter. i am the man who, unfortunately for my future happiness, was dissatisfied with such knowledge as could be derived from ordinary books concerning semi-scientific subjects in which i had long been absorbed. i studied the current works of my day on philosophy and chemistry, hoping therein to find something tangible regarding the relationship that exists between matter and spirit, but studied in vain. astronomy, history, philosophy and the mysterious, incoherent works of alchemy and occultism were finally appealed to, but likewise failed to satisfy me. these studies were pursued in secret, though i am not aware that any necessity existed for concealment. be that as it may, at every opportunity i covertly acquainted myself with such alchemical lore as could be obtained either by purchase or by correspondence with others whom i found to be pursuing investigations in the same direction. a translation of geber's "de claritate alchemiæ," by chance came into my possession, and afterwards an original version from the latin of boerhaave's "elementa chemiæ," published and translated in by peter shaw. this magnificent production threw a flood of light upon the early history of chemistry, being far more elaborate than any modern work. it inspired me with the deepest regard for its talented author, and ultimately introduced me to a brotherhood of adepts, for in this publication, although its author disclaims occultism, is to be found a talisman that will enable any earnest searcher after light to become a member of the society of secret "chemical improvers of natural philosophy," with which i affiliated as soon as the key was discovered. then followed a systematic investigation of authorities of the alchemical school, including geber, morienus, roger bacon, george ripley, raymond lully, bernard, count of trevise, isaac hollandus, arnoldus de la villanova, paracelsus, and others, not omitting the learned researches of the distinguished scientist, llewellyn. [illustration: fac-simile of page of manuscript.] i discovered that many talented men are still firm believers in the lost art of alchemy, and that among the followers of the "thrice-famed hermes" are to be found statesmen, clergymen, lawyers, and scientific men who, for various reasons, invariably conceal with great tact their connection with the fraternity of adepts. some of these men had written scientific treatises of a very different character from those circulating among the members of our brotherhood, and to their materialistic readers it would seem scarcely possible that the authors could be tainted with hallucinations of any description, while others, conspicuous leaders in the church, were seemingly beyond occult temptation. the larger number, it was evident, hoped by studies of the works of the alchemists, to find the key to the alkahest of van helmont, that is, to discover the philosopher's stone, or the elixir of life, and from their writings it is plain that the inner consciousness of thoughtful and scientific men rebelled against confinement to the narrow bounds of materialistic science, within which they were forced to appear as dogmatic pessimists. to them scientific orthodoxy, acting as a weight, prohibited intellectual speculation, as rank heresy. a few of my co-laborers were expert manipulators, and worked experimentally, following in their laboratories the suggestions of those gifted students who had pored over precious old manuscripts, and had attempted to solve the enigmatical formulas recorded therein, puzzles familiar to students of hermetic lore. it was thus demonstrated,--for what i have related is history,--that in this nineteenth century there exists a fraternity, the members of which are as earnest in their belief in the truth of esoteric philosophy, as were the followers of hermes himself; savants who, in secret, circulate among themselves a literature that the materialism of this selfsame nineteenth century has relegated to the deluded and murky periods that produced it. one day a postal package came to my address, this being the manner in which some of our literature circulated, which, on examination, i found to be a letter of instruction and advice from some unknown member of our circle. i was already becoming disheartened over the mental confusion into which my studies were leading me, and the contents of the letter, in which i was greatly interested, made a lasting impression upon me. it seemed to have been circulating a long time among our members in europe and america, for it bore numerous marginal notes of various dates, but each and every one of its readers had for one reason or another declined the task therein suggested. from the substance of the paper, which, written exquisitely, yet partook of the ambiguous alchemistic style, it was evident that the author was well versed in alchemy, and, in order that my position may be clearly understood at this turning point in a life of remarkable adventure, the letter is appended in full: the alchemistic letter. to the brother adept who dares try to discover zoroaster's cave, or the philosopher's intellectual echoes, by means of which they communicate to one another from their caves. know thou, that hermes trismegistus did not originate, but he gave to our philosophy his name--the hermetic art. evolved in a dim, mystic age, before antiquity began, it endured through the slowly rolling cycles to be bandied about by the ever-ready flippancy of nineteenth century students. it has lived, because it is endowed with that quality which never dies--truth. modern philosophy, of which chemistry is but a fragment, draws its sustenance from the prime facts which were revealed in ancient egypt through hermetic thought, and fixed by the hermetic stylus. "the hermetic allegories," so various in interpretable susceptibility, led subsequent thinkers into speculations and experimentations, which have resulted profitably to the world. it is not strange that some of the followers of hermes, especially the more mercurial and imaginative, should have evolved nebulous theories, no longer explainable, and involving recondite spiritual considerations. know thou that the ultimate on psycho-chemical investigation is the proximate of the infinite. accordingly, a class came to believe that a projection of natural mental faculties into an advanced state of consciousness called the "wisdom faculty" constitutes the final possibility of alchemy. the attainment of this exalted condition is still believed practicable by many earnest savants. once on this lofty plane, the individual would not be trammelled by material obstacles, but would abide in that spiritual placidity which is the exquisite realization of mortal perfection. so exalted, he would be in naked parallelism with omniscience, and through his illuminated understanding, could feast his soul on those exalted pleasures which are only less than deific. notwithstanding the exploitings of a number of these philosophers, in which, by reason of our inability to comprehend, sense seemed lost in a passage of incohesive dreamery and resonancy of terminology, some of the purest spiritual researches the world has ever known, were made in the dawn of history. the much abused alchemical philosophers existed upon a plane, in some respects above the level of the science of to-day. many of them lived for the good of the world only, in an atmosphere above the materialistic hordes that people the world, and toiling over their crucibles and alembics, died in their cells "uttering no voice." take, for example, eirenæus philalethes, who, born in , lived contemporaneously with robert boyle. a fragment from his writings will illustrate the purpose which impelled the searcher for the true light of alchemy to record his discoveries in allegories, and we have no right to question the honesty of his utterances: "the searcher of all hearts knows that i write the truth; nor is there any cause to accuse me of envy. i write with an unterrified quill in an unheard of style, to the honor of god, to the profit of my neighbors, with contempt of the world and its riches, because elias, the artist, is already born, and now glorious things are declared of the city of god. i dare affirm that i do possess more riches than the whole known world is worth, but i can not make use of it because of the snares of knaves. i disdain, loathe, and detest the idolizing of silver and gold, by which the pomps and vanities of the world are celebrated. ah! filthy evil! ah! vain nothingness! believe ye that i conceal the art out of envy? no, verily, i protest to you; i grieve from the very bottom of my soul that we (alchemists) are driven like vagabonds from the face of the lord throughout the earth. but what need of many words? the thing that we have seen, taught, and made, which we have, possess, and know, that we do declare; being moved with compassion for the studious, and with indignation of gold, silver, and precious stones. believe me, the time is at the door, i feel it in spirit, when we, adeptists, shall return from the four corners of the earth, nor shall we fear any snares that are laid against our lives, but we shall give thanks to the lord our god. i would to god that every ingenious man in the whole earth understood this science; then it would be valued only for its wisdom, and virtue only would be had in honor." of course there was a more worldly class, and a large contingent of mercenary impostors (as science is always encumbered), parasites, whose animus was shamefully unlike the purity of true esoteric psychologists. these men devoted their lives to experimentation for selfish advancement. they constructed alchemical outfits, and carried on a ceaseless inquiry into the nature of solvents, and studied their influences on earthly bodies, their ultimate object being the discovery of the philosopher's stone, and the alkahest which boerhaave asserts was never discovered. their records were often a verbose melange, purposely so written, no doubt, to cover their tracks, and to make themselves conspicuous. other hermetic believers occupied a more elevated position, and connected the intellectual with the material, hoping to gain by their philosophy and science not only gold and silver, which were secondary considerations, but the highest literary achievement, the magnum opus. others still sought to draw from astrology and magic the secrets that would lead them to their ambitious goal. thus there were degrees of fineness in a fraternity, which the science of to-day must recognize and admit. boerhaave, the illustrious, respected geber, of the alchemistic school, and none need feel compromised in admiring the talented alchemists who, like geber, wrought in the twilight of morn for the coming world's good. we are now enjoying a fragment of the ultimate results of their genius and industry in the materialistic outcomes of present-day chemistry, to be followed by others more valuable; and at last, when mankind is ripe in the wisdom faculty, by spiritual contentment in the complacent furtherings beyond. allow me briefly to refer to a few men of the alchemistic type whose records may be considered with advantage. rhasis, a conspicuous alchemist, born in , first mentioned orpiment, borax, compounds of iron, copper, arsenic, and other similar substances. it is said, too, that he discovered the art of making brandy. about a century later, alfarabe (killed in ), a great alchemist, astonished the king of syria with his profound learning, and excited the admiration of the wise men of the east by his varied accomplishments. later, albertus magnus (born ), noted for his talent and skill, believed firmly in the doctrine of transmutation. his beloved pupil, thomas aquinas, gave us the word amalgam, and it still serves us. contemporaneously with these lived roger bacon (born ), who was a man of most extraordinary ability. there has never been a greater english intellect (not excepting his illustrious namesake, lord bacon), and his penetrating mind delved deeper into nature's laws than that of any successor. he told us of facts concerning the sciences, that scientific men can not fully comprehend to-day; he told us of other things that lie beyond the science provings of to-day, that modern philosophers can not grasp. he was an enthusiastic believer in the hermetic philosophy, and such were his erudition and advanced views, that his brother friars, through jealousy and superstition, had him thrown into prison--a common fate to men who in those days dared to think ahead of their age. despite (as some would say) of his mighty reasoning power and splendid attainments, he believed the philosopher's stone to be a reality; he believed the secret of indefinite prolongation of life abode in alchemy; that the future could be predicted by means of a mirror which he called almuchese, and that by alchemy an adept could produce pure gold. he asserted that by means of aristotle's "secret of secrets," pure gold can be made; gold even purer and finer than what men now know as gold. in connection with other predictions he made an assertion that may with other seemingly unreasonable predictions be verified in time to come. he said: "it is equally possible to construct cars which may be set in motion with marvelous rapidity, independently of horses or other animals." he declared that the ancients had done this, and he believed the art might be revived. following came various enthusiasts, such as raymond, the ephemeral (died ), who flared like a meteor into his brief, brilliant career; arnold de villanova ( ), a celebrated adept, whose books were burned by the inquisition on account of the heresy they taught; nicholas flamel, of france ( ), loved by the people for his charities, the wonder of his age (our age will not admit the facts) on account of the vast fortune he amassed without visible means or income, outside of alchemical lore; johannes de rupecissus, a man of such remarkable daring that he even ( ) reprimanded pope innocent vi., for which he was promptly imprisoned; basil valentine ( ), the author of many works, and the man who introduced antimony (antimonaches) into medicine; isaac of holland who, with his son, skillfully made artificial gems that could not be distinguished from the natural; bernard trevison (born ), who spent $ , in the study of alchemy, out of much of which he was cheated by cruel alchemic pretenders, for even in that day there were plenty of rogues to counterfeit a good thing. under stress of his strong alchemic convictions, thomas dalton placed his head on the block by order of the virtuous (?) and conservative thomas herbert, 'squire to king edward; jacob bohme (born ), the sweet, pure spirit of christian mysticism, "the voice of heaven," than whom none stood higher in true alchemy, was a christian, alchemist, theosophist; robert boyle, a conspicuous alchemical philosopher, in published his "defense of the doctrine touching the spring and weight of the air," and illustrated his arguments by a series of ingenious and beautiful experiments, that stand to-day so high in the estimation of scientific men, that his remarks are copied verbatim by our highest authorities, and his apparatus is the best yet devised for the purpose. boyle's "law" was evolved and carefully defined fourteen years before mariotte's "discours de la nature de l'air" appeared, which did not, however, prevent french and german scientific men from giving the credit to mariotte, and they still follow the false teacher who boldly pirated not only boyle's ideas, but stole his apparatus. then appeared such men as paracelsus (born ), the celebrated physician, who taught that occultism (esoteric philosophy) was superior to experimental chemistry in enlightening us concerning the transmutation of baser metals into gold and silver; and gueppo francisco (born ), who wrote a beautiful treatise on "elementary spirits," which was copied without credit by compte de gabalis. it seems incredible that the man (gueppo francisco), whose sweet spirit-thoughts are revivified and breathe anew in "undine" and "the rape of the lock," should have been thrown into a prison to perish as a hermetic follower; and this should teach us not to question the earnestness of those who left us as a legacy the beauty and truth so abundantly found in pure alchemy. these and many others, cotemporaries, some conspicuous, and others whose names do not shine in written history, contributed incalculably to the grand aggregate of knowledge concerning the divine secret which enriched the world. compare the benefits of hermetic philosophy with the result of bloody wars ambitiously waged by self-exacting tyrants--tyrants whom history applauds as heroes, but whom we consider as butchers. among the workers in alchemy are enumerated nobles, kings, and even popes. pope john xxii. was an alchemist, which accounts for his bull against impostors, promulgated in order that true students might not be discredited; and king frederick of naples sanctioned the art, and protected its devotees. at last, count cagliostro, the chequered "joseph balsamo" (born ), who combined alchemy, magic, astrology, sleight of hand, mesmerism, free masonry, and remarkable personal accomplishments, that altogether have never since been equalled, burst upon the world. focusing the gaze of the church, kings, and the commons upon himself, in many respects the most audacious pretender that history records, he raised the hermetic art to a dazzling height, and finally buried it in a blaze of splendor as he passed from existence beneath a mantle of shame. as a meteor streams into view from out the star mists of space, and in corruscating glory sinks into the sea, cagliostro blazed into the sky of the eighteenth century, from the nebulæ of alchemistic speculation, and extinguished both himself and his science in the light of the rising sun of materialism. cagliostro the visionary, the poet, the inspired, the erratic comet in the universe of intellect, perished in prison as a mountebank, and then the plodding chemist of to-day, with his tedious mechanical methods, and cold, unresponsive, materialistic dogmas, arose from the ashes, and sprang into prominence. read the story backward, and you shall see that in alchemy we behold the beginning of all the sciences of to-day; alchemy is the cradle that rocked them. fostered with necromancy, astrology, occultism, and all the progeny of mystic dreamery, the infant sciences struggled for existence through the dark ages, in care of the once persecuted and now traduced alchemist. the world owes a monument to-day more to hermetic heroes, than to all other influences and instrumentalities, religion excepted, combined, for our present civilization is largely a legacy from the alchemist. begin with hermes trismegistus, and close with joseph balsamo, and if you are inclined towards science, do not criticise too severely their verbal logorrhea, and their romanticism, for your science is treading backward; it will encroach upon their field again, and you may have to unsay your words of hasty censure. these men fulfilled their mission, and did it well. if they told more than men now think they knew, they also knew more than they told, and more than modern philosophy embraces. they could not live to see all the future they eagerly hoped for, but they started a future for mankind that will far exceed in sweetness and light the most entrancing visions of their most imaginative dreamers. they spoke of the existence of a "red elixir," and while they wrote, the barbarous world about them ran red with blood,--blood of the pure in heart, blood of the saints, blood of a saviour; and their allegory and wisdom formulæ were recorded in blood of their own sacrifices. they dreamed of a "white elixir" that is yet to bless mankind, and a brighter day for man, a period of peace, happiness, long life, contentment, good will and brotherly love, and in the name of this "white elixir" they directed the world towards a vision of divine light. even pure gold, as they told the materialistic world who worship gold, was penetrated and whelmed by this subtle, superlatively refined spirit of matter. is not the day of the allegorical "white elixir" nearly at hand? would that it were! i say to you now, brothers of the eighteenth century, as one speaking by authority to you, cease (some of you) to study this entrancing past, look to the future by grasping the present, cast aside (some of you) the alchemical lore of other days, give up your loved allegories; it is a duty, you must relinquish them. there is a richer field. do not delay. unlock this mystic door that stands hinged and ready, waiting the touch of men who can interpret the talisman; place before mankind the knowledge that lies behind its rivets. in the secret lodges that have preserved the wisdom of the days of enoch and elias of egypt, who propagated the egyptian order, a branch of your ancient brotherhood, is to be found concealed much knowledge that should now be spread before the world, and added to the treasures of our circle of adepts. this cabalistic wisdom is not recorded in books nor in manuscript, but has been purposely preserved from the uninitiated, in the unreadable brains of unresponsive men. those who are selected to act as carriers thereof, are, as a rule, like dumb water bearers, or the dead sheet of paper that mechanically preserves an inspiration derived from minds unseen: they serve a purpose as a child mechanically commits to memory a blank verse to repeat to others, who in turn commit to repeat again--neither of them speaking understandingly. search ye these hidden paths, for the day of mental liberation approaches, and publish to the world all that is locked within the doors of that antiquated organization. the world is nearly ripe for the wisdom faculty, and men are ready to unravel the golden threads that mystic wisdom has inwoven in her web of secret knowledge. look for knowledge where i have indicated, and to gain it do not hesitate to swear allegiance to this sacred order, for so you must do to gain entrance to the brotherhood, and then you must act what men will call the traitor. you will, however, be doing a sacred duty, for the world will profit, humanity will be the gainer, "peace on earth, good will to man," will be closer to mankind, and at last, when the sign appears, the "white elixir" will no longer be allegorical; it will become a reality. in the name of the great mystic vase-man, go thou into these lodges, learn of their secrets, and spread their treasures before those who can interpret them. here this letter ended. it was evident that the writer referred to a secret society into which i could probably enter; and taking the advice, i did not hesitate, but applied at once for membership. i determined, regardless of consequence, to follow the suggestion of the unknown writer, and by so doing, for i accepted their pledges, i invited my destiny. my guest of the massive forehead paused for a moment, stroked his long, white beard, and then, after casting an inquiring glance on me, asked, "shall i read on?" "yes," i replied, and the--man--who--did--it, proceeded as follows: chapter v. the writing of my confession. having become a member of the secret society as directed by the writer of the letter i have just read, and having obtained the secrets hinted at in the mystic directions, my next desire was to find a secluded spot where, without interruption, i could prepare for publication what i had gathered surreptitiously in the lodges of the fraternity i designed to betray. this i entitled "my confession." alas! why did my evil genius prompt me to write it? why did not some kind angel withhold my hand from the rash and wicked deed? all i can urge in defense or palliation is that i was infatuated by the fatal words of the letter, "you must act what men will call the traitor, but humanity will be the gainer." in a section of the state in which i resided, a certain creek forms the boundary line between two townships, and also between two counties. crossing this creek, a much traveled road stretches east and west, uniting the extremes of the great state. two villages on this road, about four miles apart, situated on opposite sides of the creek, also present themselves to my memory, and midway between them, on the north side of the road, was a substantial farm house. in going west from the easternmost of these villages, the traveler begins to descend from the very center of the town. in no place is the grade steep, as the road lies between the spurs of the hill abutting upon the valley that feeds the creek i have mentioned. having reached the valley, the road winds a short distance to the right, then turning to the left, crosses the stream, and immediately begins to climb the western hill; here the ascent is more difficult, for the road lies diagonally over the edge of the hill. a mile of travel, as i recall the scene, sometimes up a steep, and again among rich, level farm lands, and then on the very height, close to the road, within a few feet of it, appears the square structure which was, at the time i mention, known as the stone tavern. on the opposite side of the road were located extensive stables, and a grain barn. in the northeast chamber of that stone building, during a summer in the twenties, i wrote for publication the description of the mystic work that my oath should have made forever a secret, a sacred trust. i am the man who wantonly committed the deplorable act. under the infatuation of that alchemical manuscript, i strove to show the world that i could and would do that which might never benefit me in the least, but might serve humanity. it was fate. i was not a bad man, neither malignity, avarice, nor ambition forming a part of my nature. i was a close student, of a rather retiring disposition, a stone-mason by trade, careless and indifferent to public honors, and so thriftless that many trifling neighborhood debts had accumulated against me. what i have reluctantly told, for i am forbidden to give the names of the localities, comprises an abstract of part of the record of my early life, and will introduce the extraordinary narrative which follows. that i have spoken the truth, and in no manner overdrawn, will be silently evidenced by hundreds of brethren, both of the occult society and the fraternal brotherhood, with which i united, who can (if they will) testify to the accuracy of the narrative. they know the story of my crime and disgrace; only myself and god know the full retribution that followed. chapter vi. kidnapped. the events just narrated occurred in the prime of my life, and are partly matters of publicity. my attempted breach of faith in the way of disclosing their secrets was naturally infamous in the eyes of my society brethren, who endeavored to prevail upon me to relent of my design which, after writing my "confession," i made no endeavor to conceal. their importunities and threatenings had generally been resisted, however, and with an obliquity that can not be easily explained, i persisted in my unreasonable design. i was blessed as a husband and father, but neither the thought of home, wife, nor child, checked me in my inexplicable course. i was certainly irresponsible, perhaps a monomaniac, and yet on the subject in which i was absorbed, i preserved my mental equipoise, and knowingly followed a course that finally brought me into the deepest slough of trouble, and lost to me forever all that man loves most dearly. an overruling spirit, perhaps the shade of one of the old alchemists, possessed me, and in the face of obstacles that would have caused most men to reflect, and retrace their steps, i madly rushed onward. the influence that impelled me, whatever it may have been, was irresistible. i apparently acted the part of agent, subject to an ever-present master essence, and under this dominating spirit or demon my mind was powerless in its subjection. my soul was driven imperiously by that impelling and indescribable something, and was as passive and irresponsible as lycopodium that is borne onward in a steady current of air. methods were vainly sought by those who loved me, brethren of the lodge, and others who endeavored to induce me to change my headstrong purpose, but i could neither accept their counsels nor heed their forebodings. summons by law were served on me in order to disconcert me, and my numerous small debts became the pretext for legal warrants, until at last all my papers (excepting my "confession"), and my person also, were seized, upon an execution served by a constable. minor claims were quickly satisfied, but when i regained my liberty, the aggression continued. even arson was resorted to, and the printing office that held my manuscript was fired one night, that the obnoxious revelation which i persisted in putting into print, might be destroyed. finally i found myself separated by process of law from home and friends, an inmate of a jail. my opponents, as i now came to consider them, had confined me in prison for a debt of only two dollars, a sufficient amount at that time, in that state, for my incarceration. smarting under the humiliation, my spirit became still more rebellious, and i now, perhaps justly, came to view myself as a martyr. it had been at first asserted that i had stolen a shirt, but i was not afraid of any penalty that could be laid on me for this trumped-up charge, believing that the imputation and the arrest would be shown to be designed as willful oppression. therefore it was, that when this contemptible arraignment had been swept aside, and i was freed before a justice of the peace, i experienced more than a little surprise at a rearrest, and at finding myself again thrown into jail. i knew that it had been decreed by my brethren that i must retract and destroy my "confession," and this fact made me the more determined to prevent its destruction, and i persisted sullenly in pursuing my course. on the evening of august th, , my jailer's wife informed me that the debt for which i had been incarcerated had been paid by unknown "friends," and that i could depart; and i accepted the statement without question. upon my stepping from the door of the jail, however, my arms were firmly grasped by two persons, one on each side of me, and before i could realize the fact that i was being kidnapped, i was thrust into a closed coach, which immediately rolled away, but not until i made an outcry which, if heard by anyone, was unheeded. "for your own sake, be quiet," said one of my companions in confinement, for the carriage was draped to exclude the light, and was as dark as a dungeon. my spirit rebelled; i felt that i was on the brink of a remarkable, perhaps perilous experience, and i indignantly replied by asking: "what have i done that you should presume forcibly to imprison me? am i not a freeman of america?" "what have you done?" he answered. "have you not bound yourself by a series of vows that are sacred and should be inviolable, and have you not broken them as no other man has done before you? have you not betrayed your trust, and merited a severe judgment? did you not voluntarily ask admission into our ancient brotherhood, and in good faith were you not initiated into our sacred mysteries? did you not obligate yourself before man, and on your sacred honor promise to preserve our secrets?" "i did," i replied; "but previously i had sworn before a higher tribunal to scatter this precious wisdom to the world." "yes," he said, "and you know full well the depth of the self-sought solemn oath that you took with us--more solemn than that prescribed by any open court on earth." "this i do not deny," i said, "and yet i am glad that i accomplished my object, even though you have now, as is evident, the power to pronounce my sentence." "you should look for the death sentence," was the reply, "but it has been ordained instead that you are to be given a lengthened life. you should expect bodily destruction; but on the contrary, you will pass on in consciousness of earth and earthly concerns when we are gone. your name will be known to all lands, and yet from this time you will be unknown. for the welfare of future humanity, you will be thrust to a height in our order that will annihilate you as a mortal being, and yet you will exist, suspended between life and death, and in that intermediate state will know that you exist. you have, as you confess, merited a severe punishment, but we can only punish in accordance with an unwritten law, that instructs the person punished, and elevates the human race in consequence. you stand alone among mortals in that you have openly attempted to give broadly to those who have not earned it, our most sacred property, a property that did not belong to you, property that you have only been permitted to handle, that has been handed from man to man from before the time of solomon, and which belongs to no one man, and will continue to pass in this way from one to another, as a hallowed trust, until there are no men, as men now exist, to receive it. you will soon go into the shadows of darkness, and will learn many of the mysteries of life, the undeveloped mysteries that are withheld from your fellows, but which you, who have been so presumptuous and anxious for knowledge, are destined to possess and solve. you will find secrets that man, as man is now constituted, can not yet discover, and yet which the future man must gain and be instructed in. as you have sowed, so shall you reap. you wished to become a distributor of knowledge; you shall now by bodily trial and mental suffering obtain unsought knowledge to distribute, and in time to come you will be commanded to make your discoveries known. as your pathway is surely laid out, so must you walk. it is ordained; to rebel is useless." "who has pronounced this sentence?" i asked. "a judge, neither of heaven nor of earth." "you speak in enigmas." "no; i speak openly, and the truth. our brotherhood is linked with the past, and clasps hands with the antediluvians; the flood scattered the races of earth, but did not disturb our secrets. the great love of wisdom has from generation to generation led selected members of our organization to depths of study that our open work does not touch upon, and behind our highest officers there stand, in the occult shades between the here and the hereafter, unknown and unseen agents who are initiated into secrets above and beyond those known to the ordinary craft. those who are introduced into these inner recesses acquire superhuman conceptions, and do not give an open sign of fellowship; they need no talisman. they walk our streets possessed of powers unknown to men, they concern themselves as mortals in the affairs of men, and even their brethren of the initiated, open order are unaware of their exalted condition. the means by which they have been instructed, their several individualities as well, have been concealed, because publicity would destroy their value, and injure humanity's cause." silence followed these vague disclosures, and the carriage rolled on. i was mystified and alarmed, and yet i knew that, whatever might be the end of this nocturnal ride, i had invited it--yes, merited it--and i steeled myself to hear the sentence of my judges, in whose hands i was powerless. the persons on the seat opposite me continued their conversation in low tones, audible only to themselves. an individual by my side neither moved nor spoke. there were four of us in the carriage, as i learned intuitively, although we were surrounded by utter darkness. at length i addressed the companion beside me, for the silence was unbearable. friend or enemy though he might be, anything rather than this long silence. "how long shall we continue in this carriage?" he made no reply. after a time i again spoke. "can you not tell me, comrade, how long our journey will last? when shall we reach our destination?" silence only. putting out my hand, i ventured to touch my mate, and found that he was tightly strapped,--bound upright to the seat and the back of the carriage. leather thongs held him firmly in position; and as i pondered over the mystery, i thought to myself, if i make a disturbance, they will not hesitate to manacle me as securely. my custodians seemed, however, not to exercise a guard over me, and yet i felt that they were certain of my inability to escape. if the man on the seat was a prisoner, why was he so reticent? why did he not answer my questions? i came to the conclusion that he must be gagged as well as bound. then i determined to find out if this were so. i began to realize more forcibly that a terrible sentence must have been meted me, and i half hoped that i could get from my partner in captivity some information regarding our destination. sliding my hand cautiously along his chest, and under his chin, i intended to remove the gag from his mouth, when i felt my flesh creep, for it came in contact with the cold, rigid flesh of a corpse. the man was dead, and stiff. the shock unnerved me. i had begun to experience the results of a severe mental strain, partly induced by the recent imprisonment and extended previous persecution, and partly by the mysterious significance of the language in which i had recently been addressed. the sentence, "you will now go into the valley of the shadow of death, and learn the mysteries of life," kept ringing through my head, and even then i sat beside a corpse. after this discovery i remained for a time in a semi-stupor, in a state of profound dejection,--how long i can not say. then i experienced an inexplicable change, such as i imagine comes over a condemned man without hope of reprieve, and i became unconcerned as a man might who had accepted his destiny, and stoically determined to await it. perhaps moments passed, it may have been hours, and then indifference gave place to reviving curiosity. i realized that i could die only once, and i coolly and complacently revolved the matter, speculating over my possible fate. as i look back on the night in which i rode beside that dead man, facing the mysterious agents of an all-powerful judge, i marvel over a mental condition that permitted me finally to rest in peace, and slumber in unconcern. so i did, however, and after a period, the length of which i am not able to estimate, i awoke, and soon thereafter the carriage stopped, and our horses were changed, after which our journey was resumed, to continue hour after hour, and at last i slept again, leaning back in the corner. suddenly i was violently shaken from slumber, and commanded to alight. it was in the gray of morning, and before i could realize what was happening, i was transferred by my captors to another carriage, and the dead man also was rudely hustled along and thrust beside me, my companions speaking to him as though he were alive. indeed, as i look back on these maneuvers, i perceive that, to all appearances, i was one of the abducting party, and our actions were really such as to induce an observer to believe that this dead man was an obstinate prisoner, and myself one of his official guards. the drivers of the carriages seemed to give us no attention, but they sat upright and unconcerned, and certainly neither of them interested himself in our transfer. the second carriage, like that other previously described, was securely closed, and our journey was continued. the darkness was as of a dungeon. it may have been days, i could not tell anything about the passage of time; on and on we rode. occasionally food and drink were handed in, but my captors held to their course, and at last i was taken from the vehicle, and transferred to a block-house. i had been carried rapidly and in secret a hundred or more miles, perhaps into another state, and probably all traces of my journey were effectually lost to outsiders. i was in the hands of men who implicitly obeyed the orders of their superiors, masters whom they had never seen, and probably did not know. i needed no reminder of the fact that i had violated every sacred pledge voluntarily made to the craft, and now that they held me powerless, i well knew that, whatever the punishment assigned, i had invited it, and could not prevent its fulfillment. that it would be severe, i realized; that it would not be in accordance with ordinary human law, i accepted. [illustration: "i was taken from the vehicle, and transferred to a block-house."] had i not in secret, in my little room in that obscure stone tavern, engrossed on paper the mystic sentences that never before had been penned, and were unknown excepting to persons initiated into our sacred mysteries? had i not previously, in the most solemn manner, before these words had been imparted to my keeping, sworn to keep them inviolate and secret? and had i not deliberately broken that sacred vow, and scattered the hoarded sentences broadcast? my part as a brother in this fraternal organization was that of the holder only of property that belonged to no man, that had been handed from one to another through the ages, sacredly cherished, and faithfully protected by men of many tongues, always considered a trust, a charge of honor, and never before betrayed. my crime was deep and dark. i shuddered. "come what may," i mused, reflecting over my perfidy, "i am ready for the penalty, and my fate is deserved; it can not but be a righteous one." the words of the occupant of the carriage occurred to me again and again; that one sentence kept ringing in my brain; i could not dismiss it: "you have been tried, convicted, and we are of those appointed to carry out the sentence of the judges." the black silence of my lonely cell beat against me; i could feel the absence of sound, i could feel the dismal weight of nothingness, and in my solitude and distraction i cried out in anguish to the invisible judge: "i am ready for my sentence, whether it be death or imprisonment for life"; and still the further words of the occupant of the carriage passed through my mind: "you will now go into the valley of the shadow of death, and will learn the mysteries of life." then i slept, to awake and sleep again. i kept no note of time; it may have been days or weeks, so far as my record could determine. an attendant came at intervals to minister to my wants, always masked completely, ever silent. that i was not entirely separated from mankind, however, i felt assured, for occasionally sounds of voices came to me from without. once i ventured to shout aloud, hoping to attract attention; but the persons whom i felt assured overheard me, paid no attention to my lonely cry. at last one night, my door opened abruptly, and three men entered. "do not fear," said their spokesman, "we aim to protect you; keep still, and soon you will be a free man." i consented quietly to accompany them, for to refuse would have been in vain; and i was conducted to a boat, which i found contained a corpse--the one i had journeyed with, i suppose--and embarking, we were silently rowed to the middle of the river, our course being diagonally from the shore, and the dead man was thrown overboard. then our boat returned to the desolate bank. thrusting me into a carriage, that, on our return to the river bank we found awaiting us, my captors gave a signal, and i was driven away in the darkness, as silently as before, and our journey was continued i believe for fully two days. i was again confined in another log cabin, with but one door, and destitute of windows. my attendants were masked, they neither spoke to me as they day after day supplied my wants, nor did they give me the least information on any subject, until at last i abandoned all hope of ever regaining my liberty. [illustration: "the dead man was thrown overboard."] chapter vii. a wild night.--i am prematurely aged. in the depths of night i was awakened by a noise made by the opening of a door, and one by one seven masked figures silently stalked into my prison. each bore a lighted torch, and they passed me as i lay on the floor in my clothes (for i had no bedding), and ranged themselves in a line. i arose, and seated myself as directed to do, upon the only stool in the room. swinging into a semi-circle, the weird line wound about me, and from the one seat on which i rested in the center of the room, i gazed successively upon seven pairs of gleaming eyes, each pair directed at myself; and as i turned from one to another, the black cowl of each deepened into darkness, and grew more hideous. "men or devils," i cried, "do your worst! make me, if such is your will, as that sunken corpse beside which i was once seated; but cease your persecutions. i have atoned for my indiscretions a thousand fold, and this suspense is unbearable; i demand to know what is to be my doom, and i desire its fulfilment." then one stepped forward, facing me squarely,--the others closed together around him and me. raising his forefinger, he pointed it close to my face, and as his sharp eyes glittered from behind the black mask, piercing through me, he slowly said: "why do you not say brothers?" "horrible," i rejoined; "stop this mockery. have i not suffered enough from your persecutions to make me reject that word as applied to yourselves? you can but murder; do your duty to your unseen masters, and end this prolonged torture!" "brother," said the spokesman, "you well know that the sacred rules of our order will not permit us to murder any human being. we exist to benefit humanity, to lead the wayward back across the burning desert into the pathways of the righteous; not to destroy or persecute a brother. ours is an eleemosynary institution, instructing its members, helping them to seek happiness. you are now expiating the crime you have committed, and the good in your spirit rightfully revolts against the bad, for in divulging to the world our mystic signs and brotherly greetings, you have sinned against yourself more than against others. the sting of conscience, the bitings of remorse punish you." "true," i cried, as the full significance of what he said burst upon me, "too true; but i bitterly repent my treachery. others can never know how my soul is harrowed by the recollection of the enormity of that breach of confidence. in spite of my open, careless, or defiant bearing, my heart is humble, and my spirit cries out for mercy. by night and by day i have in secret cursed myself for heeding an unhallowed mandate, and i have long looked forward to the judgment that i should suffer for my perfidy, for i have appreciated that the day of reckoning would surely appear. i do not rebel, and i recall my wild language; i recant my 'confession,' i renounce myself! i say to you in all sincerity, brothers, do your duty, only i beg of you to slay me at once, and end my suspense. i await my doom. what might it be?" grasping my hand, the leader said: "you are ready as a member of our order; we can now judge you as we have been commanded; had you persisted in calling us devils in your mistaken frenzy, we should have been forced to reason with you until you returned again to us, and became one of us. our judgment is for you only; the world must not now know its nature, at least so far as we are concerned. those you see here, are not your judges; we are agents sent to labor with you, to draw you back into our ranks, to bring you into a condition that will enable you to carry out the sentence that you have drawn upon yourself, for you must be your own doomsman. in the first place, we are directed to gain your voluntary consent to leave this locality. you can no longer take part in affairs that interested you before. to the people of this state, and to your home, and kindred, you must become a stranger for all time. do you consent?" "yes," i answered, for i knew that i must acquiesce. "in the next place, you must help us to remove all traces of your identity. you must, so far as the world is concerned, leave your body where you have apparently been drowned, for a world's benefit, a harmless mockery to deceive the people, and also to make an example for others that are weak. are you ready?" "yes." "then remove your clothing, and replace it with this suit." i obeyed, and changed my garments, receiving others in return. one of the party then, taking from beneath his gown a box containing several bottles of liquids, proceeded artfully to mix and compound them, and then to paint my face with the combination, which after being mixed, formed a clear solution. "do not fear to wash;" said the spokesman, "the effect of this lotion is permanent enough to stay until you are well out of this state." i passed my hand over my face; it was drawn into wrinkles as a film of gelatine might have been shrivelled under the influence of a strong tannin or astringent liquid; beneath my fingers it felt like the furrowed face of a very old man, but i experienced no pain. i vainly tried to smooth the wrinkles; immediately upon removing the pressure of my hand, the furrows reappeared. next, another applied a colorless liquid freely to my hair and beard; he rubbed it well, and afterward wiped it dry with a towel. a mirror was thrust beneath my gaze. i started back, the transformation was complete. my appearance had entirely changed. my face had become aged and wrinkled, my hair as white as snow. i cried aloud in amazement: "am i sane, is this a dream?" "it is not a dream; but, under methods that are in exact accordance with natural physiological laws, we have been enabled to transform your appearance from that of one in the prime of manhood into the semblance of an old man, and that, too, without impairment of your vitality." another of the masked men opened a curious little casket that i perceived was surmounted by an alembic and other alchemical figures, and embossed with an oriental design. he drew from it a lamp which he lighted with a taper; the flame that resulted, first pale blue, then yellow, next violet and finally red, seemed to become more weird and ghastly with each mutation, as i gazed spell-bound upon its fantastic changes. then, after these transformations, it burned steadily with the final strange blood-red hue, and he now held over the blaze a tiny cup, which, in a few moments, commenced to sputter and then smoked, exhaling a curious, epipolic, semi-luminous vapor. i was commanded to inhale the vapor. [illustration: "a mirror was thrust beneath my gaze."] i hesitated; the thought rushed upon me, "now i am another person, so cleverly disguised that even my own friends would perhaps not know me, this vapor is designed to suffocate me, and my body, if found, will not now be known, and could not be identified when discovered." "do not fear," said the spokesman, as if divining my thought, "there is no danger," and at once i realized, by quick reasoning, that if my death were demanded, my body might long since have been easily destroyed, and all this ceremony would have been unnecessary. i hesitated no longer, but drew into my lungs the vapor that arose from the mysterious cup, freely expanding my chest several times, and then asked, "is not that enough?" despair now overcame me. my voice, no longer the full, strong tone of a man in middle life and perfect strength, squeaked and quavered, as if impaired by palsy. i had seen my image in a mirror, an old man with wrinkled face and white hair; i now heard myself speak with the voice of an octogenarian. "what have you done?" i cried. "we have obeyed your orders; you told us you were ready to leave your own self here, and the work is complete. the man who entered has disappeared. if you should now stand in the streets of your village home, and cry to your former friends, 'it is i, for whom you seek,' they would smile, and call you a madman. know," continued the voice, "that there is in eastern metaphysical lore, more true philosophy than is embodied in the sciences of to-day, and that by means of the ramifications of our order it becomes possible, when necessary, for him who stands beyond the inner and upper worshipful master, to draw these treasures from the occult wisdom possessions of oriental sages who forget nothing and lose nothing. have we not been permitted to do his bidding well?" "yes," i squeaked; "and i wish that you had done it better. i would that i were dead." "when the time comes, if necessary, your dead body will be fished from the water," was the reply; "witnesses have seen the drowning tragedy, and will surely identify the corpse." "and may i go? am i free now?" i asked. "ah," said he, "that is not for us to say; our part of the work is fulfilled, and we can return to our native lands, and resume again our several studies. so far as we are concerned, you are free, but we have been directed to pass you over to the keeping of others who will carry forward this judgment--there is another step." "tell me," i cried, once more desponding, "tell me the full extent of my sentence." "that is not known to us, and probably is not known to any one man. so far as the members of our order are concerned, you have now vanished. when you leave our sight this night, we will also separate from one another, we shall know no more of you and your future than will those of our working order who live in this section of the country. we have no personal acquaintance with the guide that has been selected to conduct you farther, and who will appear in due season, and we make no surmise concerning the result of your journey, only we know that you will not be killed, for you have a work to perform, and will continue to exist long after others of your age are dead. farewell, brother; we have discharged our duty, and by your consent, now we must return to our various pursuits. in a short time all evidence of your unfortunate mistake, the crime committed by you in printing our sacred charges, will have vanished. even now, emissaries are ordained to collect and destroy the written record that tells of your weakness, and with the destruction of that testimony, for every copy will surely be annihilated, and with your disappearance from among men, for this also is to follow, our responsibility for you will cease." each of the seven men advanced, and grasped my hand, giving me the grip of brotherhood, and then, without a word, they severally and silently departed into the outer darkness. as the last man disappeared, a figure entered the door, clad and masked exactly like those who had gone. he removed the long black gown in which he was enveloped, threw the mask from his face and stood before me, a slender, graceful, bright-looking young man. by the light of the candle i saw him distinctly, and was at once struck by his amiable, cheerful countenance, and my heart bounded with a sudden hope. i had temporarily forgotten the transformation that had been made in my person, which, altogether painless, had left no physical sensation, and thought of myself as i had formerly existed; my soul was still my own, i imagined; my blood seemed unchanged, and must flow as rapidly as before; my strength was unaltered, indeed i was in self-consciousness still in the prime of life. "excuse me, father," said the stranger, "but my services have been sought as a guide for the first part of a journey that i am informed you intend to take." his voice was mild and pleasant, his bearing respectful, but the peculiar manner in which he spoke convinced me that he knew that, as a guide, he must conduct me to some previously designated spot, and that he purposed to do so was evident, with or without my consent. "why do you call me father?" i attempted to say, but as the first few words escaped my lips, the recollection of the events of the night rushed upon me, for instead of my own, i recognized the piping voice of the old man i had now become, and my tongue faltered; the sentence was unspoken. "you would ask me why i called you father, i perceive; well, because i am directed to be a son to you, to care for your wants, to make your journey as easy and pleasant as possible, to guide you quietly and carefully to the point that will next prove of interest to you." i stood before him a free man, in the prime of life, full of energy, and this stripling alone interposed between myself and liberty. should i permit the slender youth to carry me away as a prisoner? would it not be best to thrust him aside, if necessary, crush him to the earth? go forth in my freedom? yet i hesitated, for he might have friends outside; probably he was not alone. "there are no companions near us," said he, reading my mind, "and, as i do not seem formidable, it is natural you should weigh in your mind the probabilities of escape; but you can not evade your destiny, and you must not attempt to deny yourself the pleasure of my company. you must leave this locality and leave without a regret. in order that you may acquiesce willingly i propose that together we return to your former home, which you will, however, find no longer to be a home. i will accompany you as a companion, as your son. you may speak, with one exception, to whomever you care to address; may call on any of your old associates, may assert openly who you are, or whatever and whoever you please to represent yourself, only i must also have the privilege of joining in the conversation." "agreed," i cried, and extended my hand; he grasped it, and then by the light of the candle, i saw a peculiar expression flit over his face, as he added: "to one person only, as i have said, and you have promised, you must not speak--your wife." i bowed my head, and a flood of sorrowful reflections swept over me. of all the world the one whom i longed to meet, to clasp in my arms, to counsel in my distress, was the wife of my bosom, and i begged him to withdraw his cruel injunction. "you should have thought of her before; now it is too late. to permit you to meet, and speak with her would be dangerous; she might pierce your disguise. of all others there is no fear." "must i go with you into an unknown future without a farewell kiss from my little child or from my babe scarce three months old?" "it has been so ordained." i threw myself on the floor and moaned. "this is too hard, too hard for human heart to bear. life has no charm to a man who is thrust from all he holds most dear, home, friends, family." "the men who relinquish such pleasures and such comforts are those who do the greatest good to humanity," said the youth. "the multitude exist to propagate the race, as animal progenitors of the multitudes that are to follow, and the exceptional philanthropist is he who denies himself material bliss, and punishes himself in order to work out a problem such as it has been ordained that you are to solve. do not argue further--the line is marked, and you must walk direct." into the blaze of the old fireplace of that log house, for, although it was autumn, the night was chilly, he then cast his black robe and false face, and, as they turned to ashes, the last evidences of the vivid acts through which i had passed, were destroyed. as i lay moaning in my utter misery, i tried to reason with myself that what i experienced was all a hallucination. i dozed, and awoke startled, half conscious only, as one in a nightmare; i said to myself, "a dream! a dream!" and slept again. chapter viii. a lesson in mind study. the door of the cabin was open when i awoke, the sun shone brightly, and my friend, apparently happy and unconcerned, said: "father, we must soon start on our journey; i have taken advantage of your refreshing sleep, and have engaged breakfast at yonder farm-house; our meal awaits us." i arose, washed my wrinkled face, combed my white hair, and shuddered as i saw in a pocket mirror the reflection of my figure, an aged, apparently decrepit man. "do not be disturbed at your feeble condition," said my companion; "your infirmities are not real. few men have ever been permitted to drink of the richness of the revelations that await you; and in view of these expectations the fact that you are prematurely aged in appearance should not unnerve you. be of good heart, and when you say the word, we will start on our journey, which will begin as soon as you have said farewell to former friends and acquaintances." i made no reply, but silently accompanied him, for my thoughts were in the past, and my reflections were far from pleasant. we reached the farm-house, and as i observed the care and attention extended me by the pleasant-faced housewife, i realized that, in one respect at least, old age brought its compensation. after breakfast a man appeared from the farmer's barn, driving a team of horses attached to an open spring-wagon which, in obedience to the request of my guide, i entered, accompanied by my young friend, who directed that we be driven toward the village from which i had been abducted. he seemed to know my past life as i knew it; he asked me to select those of my friends to whom i first wished to bid farewell, even mentioning their names; he seemed all that a patient, faithful son could be, and i began to wonder at his audacity, even as much as i admired his self-confidence. as we journeyed onward we engaged in familiar talk. we sat together on the back seat of the open spring-wagon, in full sight of passers, no attempt being made to conceal my person. thus we traveled for two days, and on our course we passed through a large city with which i was acquainted, a city that my abductors had previously carried me through and beyond. i found that my "son" possessed fine conversational power, and a rich mine of information, and he became increasingly interesting as he drew from his fund of knowledge, and poured into my listening ears an entrancing strain of historical and metaphysical information. never at a loss for a word or an idea, he appeared to discern my cogitations, and as my mind wandered in this or that direction he fell into the channel of my fancies, and answered my unspoken thoughts, my mind-questions or meditations, as pertinently as though i had spoken them. his accomplishments, for the methods of his perception were unaccompanied by any endeavor to draw me into word expression, made me aware at least, that, in him, i had to deal with a man unquestionably possessed of more than ordinary intellect and education, and as this conviction entered my mind he changed his subject and promptly answered the silent inquiry, speaking as follows: "have you not sometimes felt that in yourself there may exist undeveloped senses that await an awakening touch to open to yourself a new world, senses that may be fully developed, but which saturate each other and neutralize themselves; quiescent, closed circles which you can not reach, satisfied circuits slumbering within your body and that defy your efforts to utilize them? in your dreams have you not seen sights that words are inadequate to describe, that your faculties can not retain in waking moments, and which dissolve into intangible nothingness, leaving only a vague, shadowy outline as the mind quickens, or rather when the senses that possess you in sleep relinquish the body to the returning vital functions and spirit? this unconscious conception of other planes, a beyond or betwixt, that is neither mental nor material, neither here nor located elsewhere, belongs to humanity in general, and is made evident from the unsatiable desire of men to pry into phenomena latent or recondite that offer no apparent return to humanity. this desire has given men the knowledge they now possess of the sciences; sciences yet in their infancy. study in this direction is, at present, altogether of the material plane, but in time to come, men will gain control of outlying senses which will enable them to step from the seen into the consideration of matter or force that is now subtle and evasive, which must be accomplished by means of the latent faculties that i have indicated. there will be an unconscious development of new mind-forces in the student of nature as the rudiments of these so-called sciences are elaborated. step by step, as the ages pass, the faculties of men will, under progressive series of evolutions, imperceptibly pass into higher phases until that which is even now possible with some individuals of the purified esoteric school, but which would seem miraculous if practiced openly at this day, will prove feasible to humanity generally and be found in exact accord with natural laws. the conversational method of men, whereby communion between human beings is carried on by disturbing the air by means of vocal organs so as to produce mechanical pulsations of that medium, is crude in the extreme. mind craves to meet mind, but can not yet thrust matter aside, and in order to communicate one with another, the impression one mind wishes to convey to another must be first made on the brain matter that accompanies it, which in turn influences the organs of speech, inducing a disturbance of the air by the motions of the vocal organs, which, by undulations that reach to another being, act on his ear, and secondarily on the earthly matter of his brain, and finally by this roundabout course, impress the second being's mind. in this transmission of motions there is great waste of energy and loss of time, but such methods are a necessity of the present slow, much-obstructed method of communication. there is, in cultivated man, an innate craving for something more facile, and often a partly developed conception, spectral and vague, appears, and the being feels that there may be for mortals a richer, brighter life, a higher earthly existence that science does not now indicate. such intimation of a deeper play of faculties is now most vivid with men during the perfect loss of mental self as experienced in dreams, which as yet man in the quick can not grasp, and which fade as he awakens. as mental sciences are developed, investigators will find that the medium known as air is unnecessary as a means of conveying mind conceptions from one person to another; that material sounds and word pulsations are cumbersome; that thought force unexpressed may be used to accomplish more than speech can do, and that physical exertions as exemplified in motion of matter such as i have described will be unnecessary for mental communication. as door after door in these directions shall open before men, mystery after mystery will be disclosed, and vanish as mysteries to reappear as simple facts. phenomena that are impossible and unrevealed to the scientist of to-day will be familiar to the coming multitude, and at last, as by degrees, clearer knowledge is evolved, the vocal language of men will disappear, and humanity, regardless of nationality, will, in silence and even in darkness, converse eloquently together in mind language. that which is now esoteric will become exoteric. then mind will meet mind as my mind now impinges on your own, and, in reply to your unuttered question regarding my apparently unaccountable powers of perception, i say they are perfectly natural, but while i can read your thoughts, because of the fact that you can not reciprocate in this direction, i must use my voice to impress your mind. you will know more of this, however, at a future day, for it has been ordained that you are to be educated with an object that is now concealed. at present you are interested mainly in the affairs of life as you know them, and can not enter into these purer spheres. we are approaching one of your former friends, and it may be your pleasure to ask him some questions and to bid him farewell." chapter ix. i can not establish my identity. in surprise i perceived coming towards us a light spring wagon, in which rode one of my old acquaintances. pleasure at the discovery led me to raise my hat, wave it around my head, and salute him even at the considerable distance that then separated us. i was annoyed at the look of curiosity that passed over his countenance, and not until the two vehicles had stopped side by side did it occur to me that i was unrecognized. i had been so engrossed in my companion's revelations, that i had forgotten my unfortunate physical condition. i stretched out my hand, i leaned over almost into the other vehicle, and earnestly said: "do you not know me? only a short time ago we sat and conversed side by side." a look of bewilderment came over his features. "i have never seen you that i can recall," he answered. my spirit sank within me. could it be possible that i was really so changed? i begged him to try and recall my former self, giving my name. "i am that person," i added; but he, with an expression of countenance that told as plainly as words could speak that he considered me deranged, touched his horse, and drove on. my companion broke the awkward silence. "do you know that i perceived between you two men an unconscious display of mind-language, especially evident on your part? you wished with all the earnestness of your soul to bring yourself as you formerly appeared, before that man, and when it proved impossible, without a word from him, his mind exhibited itself to your more earnest intellect, and you realized that he said to himself, 'this person is a poor lunatic.' he told you his thoughts in mind-language, as plainly as words could have spoken, because the intense earnestness on your part quickened your perceptive faculties, but he could not see your mental state, and the pleading voice of the apparent stranger before him could not convince the unconcerned lethargic mind within him. i observed, however, in addition to what you noticed, that he is really looking for you. that is the object of his journey, and i learn that in every direction men are now spreading the news that you have been kidnapped and carried from your jail. however, we shall soon be in the village, and you will then hear more about yourself." we rode in silence while i meditated on my remarkable situation. i could not resign myself without a struggle to my approaching fate, and i felt even yet a hope, although i seemed powerless in the hands of destiny. could i not, by some method, convince my friends of my identity? i determined, forgetting the fact that my guide was even then reading my mind, that upon the next opportunity i would pursue a different course. "it will not avail," my companion replied. "you must do one of two things: you will voluntarily go with me, or you will involuntarily go to an insane asylum. neither you nor i could by any method convince others that the obviously decrepit old man beside me was but yesterday hale, hearty, young and strong. you will find that you can not prove your identity, and as a friend, one of the great brotherhood to which you belong, a craft that deals charitably with all men and all problems, i advise you to accept the situation as soon as possible after it becomes evident to your mind that you are lost to former affiliations, and must henceforth be a stranger to the people whom you know. take my advice, and cease to regret the past and cheerfully turn your thoughts to the future. on one side of you the lunatic asylum is open; on the other, a journey into an unknown region, beyond the confines of any known country. on the one hand, imprisonment and subjection, perhaps abuse and neglect; on the other, liberation of soul, evolution of faculty, and a grasping of superior knowledge that is denied most men--yes, withheld from all but a few persons of each generation, for only a few, unknown to the millions of this world's inhabitants, have passed over the road you are to travel. just now you wished to meet your jailer of a few hours ago; it is a wise conclusion, and if he does not recognize you, i ask in sincerity, who will be likely to do so? we will drive straight to his home; but, here he comes." indeed, we were now in the village, where my miserable journey began, and perhaps by chance--it seems that it could not have been otherwise--my former jailer actually approached us. "if you please," said my companion, "i will assist you to alight from the wagon, and you may privately converse with him." our wagon stopped, my guide opened a conversation with the jailer, saying that his friend wished to speak with him, and then assisted me to alight and retired a distance. i was vexed at my infirmities, which embarrassed me most exasperatingly, but which i knew were artificial; my body appeared unwilling although my spirit was anxious; but do what i could to control my actions, i involuntarily behaved like a decrepit old man. however, my mind was made up; this attempt to prove my personality should be the last; failure now would prove the turning point, and i would go willingly with my companion upon the unknown journey if i could not convince the jailer of my identity. straightening myself before the expectant jailer, who, with a look of inquisitiveness, regarded me as a stranger, i asked if he knew my former self, giving my name. "that i do," he replied, "and if i could find him at this moment i would be relieved of a load of worry." "would you surely know him if you met him?" i asked. "assuredly," he replied; "and if you bring tidings of his whereabouts, as your bearing indicates, speak, that i may rid myself of suspicion and suspense." calling the jailer by name, i asked him if my countenance did not remind him of the man he wished to find. "not at all." "listen, does not my voice resemble that of your escaped prisoner?" "not in the least." [illustration: "i am the man you seek."] with a violent effort i drew my form as straight as possible, and stood upright before him, with every facial muscle strained to its utmost, in a vain endeavor to bring my wrinkled countenance to its former smoothness, and with the energy that a drowning man might exert to grasp a passing object, i tried to control my voice, and preserve my identity by so doing, vehemently imploring him, begging him to listen to my story. "i am the man you seek; i am the prisoner who, a few days ago, stood in the prime of life before you. i have been spirited away from you by men who are leagued with occult forces, which extend forward among hidden mysteries, into forces which illuminate the present, and reach backward into the past unseen. these persons, by artful and damnable manipulations under the guidance of a power that has been evolved in the secrecy of past ages, and transmitted only to a favored few, have changed the strong man you knew into the one apparently feeble, who now confronts you. only a short period has passed since i was your unwilling captive, charged with debt, a trifling sum; and then, as your sullen prisoner, i longed for freedom. now i plead before you, with all my soul, i beg of you to take me back to my cell. seal your doors, and hold me again, for your dungeon will now be to me a paradise." i felt that i was becoming frantic, for with each word i realized that the jailer became more and more impatient and annoyed. i perceived that he believed me to be a lunatic. pleadings and entreaties were of no avail, and my eagerness rapidly changed into despair until at last i cried: "if you will not believe my words, i will throw myself on the mercy of my young companion. i ask you to consider his testimony, and if he says that i am not what i assert myself to be, i will leave my home and country, and go with him quietly into the unknown future." he turned to depart, but i threw myself before him, and beckoned the young man who, up to this time, had stood aloof in respectful silence. he came forward, and addressing the jailer, called him by name, and corroborated my story. yes, strange as it sounded to me, he reiterated the substance of my narrative as i had repeated it. "now, you will believe it," i cried in ecstacy; "now you need no longer question the facts that i have related." instead, however, of accepting the story of the witness, the jailer upbraided him. "this is a preconcerted arrangement to get me into ridicule or further trouble. you two have made up an incredible story that on its face is fit only to be told to men as crazy or designing as yourselves. this young man did not even overhear your conversation with me, and yet he repeats his lesson without a question from me as to what i wish to learn of him." "he can see our minds," i cried in despair. "crazier than i should have believed from your countenance," the jailer replied. "of all the improbable stories imaginable, you have attempted to inveigle me into accepting that which is most unreasonable. if you are leagued together intent on some swindling scheme, i give you warning now that i am in no mood for trifling. go your way, and trouble me no more with this foolish scheming, which villainy or lunacy of some description must underlie." he turned in anger and left us. "it is as i predicted," said my companion; "you are lost to man. those who know you best will turn from you soonest. i might become as wild as you are, in your interest, and only serve to make your story appear more extravagant. in human affairs men judge and act according to the limited knowledge at command of the multitude. witnesses who tell the truth are often, in our courts of law, stunned, as you have been, by the decisions of a narrow-minded jury. men sit on juries with little conception of the facts of the case that is brought before them; the men who manipulate them are mere tools in unseen hands that throw their several minds in antagonisms unexplainable to man. the judge is unconsciously often a tool of his own errors or those of others. one learned judge unties what another has fastened, each basing his views on the same testimony, each rendering his decision in accordance with law derived from the same authority. your case is that condition of mind that men call lunacy. you can see much that is hidden from others because you have become acquainted with facts that their narrow education forbids them to accept, but, because the majority is against you, they consider you mentally unbalanced. the philosophy of men does not yet comprehend the conditions that have operated on your person, and as you stand alone, although in the right, all men will oppose you, and you must submit to the views of a misguided majority. in the eyes of a present generation you are crazy. a jury of your former peers could not do else than so adjudge you, for you are not on the same mental plane, and i ask, will you again attempt to accomplish that which is as impossible as it would be for you to drink the waters of seneca lake at one draught? go to those men and propose to drain that lake at one gulp, and you will be listened to as seriously as when you beg your former comrades to believe that you are another person than what you seem. only lengthened life is credited with the production of physical changes that under favorable conditions, are possible of accomplishment in a brief period, and such testimony as you could bring, in the present state of human knowledge, would only add to the proof of your lunacy." "i see, i see," i said; "and i submit. lead on, i am ready. whatever my destined career may be, wherever it may be, it can only lead to the grave." "do not be so sure of that," was the reply. i shuddered instinctively, for this answer seemed to imply that the stillness of the grave would be preferable to my destiny. we got into the wagon again, and a deep silence followed as we rode along, gazing abstractedly on the quiet fields and lonely farm-houses. finally we reached a little village. here my companion dismissed the farmer, our driver, paying him liberally, and secured lodgings in a private family (i believe we were expected), and after a hearty supper we retired. from the time we left the jailer i never again attempted to reveal my identity. i had lost my interest in the past, and found myself craving to know what the future had in store for me. chapter x. my journey towards the end of earth begins.--the adepts' brotherhood. my companion did not attempt to watch over my motions or in any way to interfere with my freedom. "i will for a time necessarily be absent," he said, "arranging for our journey, and while i am getting ready you must employ yourself as best you can. i ask you, however, now to swear that, as you have promised, you will not seek your wife and children." to this i agreed. "hold up your hand," he said, and i repeated after him: "all this i most solemnly and sincerely promise and swear, with a firm and steadfast resolution to keep and perform my oath, without the least equivocation, mental reservation or self-evasion whatever." "that will answer; see that you keep your oath this time," he said, and he departed. several days were consumed before he returned, and during that time i was an inquisitive and silent listener to the various conjectures others were making regarding my abduction which event was becoming of general interest. some of the theories advanced were quite near the truth, others wild and erratic. how preposterous it seemed to me that the actor himself could be in the very seat of the disturbance, willing, anxious to testify, ready to prove the truth concerning his position, and yet unable even to obtain a respectful hearing from those most interested in his recovery. men gathered together discussing the "outrage"; women, children, even, talked of little else, and it was evident that the entire country was aroused. new political issues took their rise from the event, but the man who was the prime cause of the excitement was for a period a willing and unwilling listener, as he had been a willing and unwilling actor in the tragedy. one morning my companion drove up in a light carriage, drawn by a span of fine, spirited, black horses. "we are ready now," he said, and my unprecedented journey began. wherever we stopped, i heard my name mentioned. men combined against men, brother was declaiming against brother, neighbor was against neighbor, everywhere suspicion was in the air. "the passage of time alone can quiet these people," said i. "the usual conception of the term time--an indescribable something flowing at a constant rate--is erroneous," replied my comrade. "time is humanity's best friend, and should be pictured as a ministering angel, instead of a skeleton with hour-glass and scythe. time does not fly, but is permanent and quiescent, while restless, force-impelled matter rushes onward. force and matter fly; time reposes. at our birth we are wound up like a machine, to move for a certain number of years, grating against time. we grind against that complacent spirit, and wear not time but ourselves away. we hold within ourselves a certain amount of energy, which, an evanescent form of matter, is the opponent of time. time has no existence with inanimate objects. it is a conception of the human intellect. time is rest, perfect rest, tranquillity such as man never realizes unless he becomes a part of the sweet silences toward which human life and human mind are drifting. so much for time. now for life. disturbed energy in one of its forms, we call life; and this life is the great enemy of peace, the opponent of steadfast perfection. pure energy, the soul of the universe, permeates all things with which man is now acquainted, but when at rest is imperceptible to man, while disturbed energy, according to its condition, is apparent either as matter or as force. a substance or material body is a manifestation resulting from a disturbance of energy. the agitating cause removed, the manifestations disappear, and thus a universe may be extinguished, without unbalancing the cosmos that remains. the worlds known to man are conditions of abnormal energy moving on separate planes through what men call space. they attract to themselves bodies of similar description, and thus influence one another--they have each a separate existence, and are swayed to and fro under the influence of the various disturbances in energy common to their rank or order, which we call forms of forces. unsettled energy also assumes numerous other expressions that are unknown to man, but which in all perceptible forms is characterized by motion. pure energy can not be appreciated by the minds of mortals. there are invisible worlds besides those perceived by us in our planetary system, unreachable centers of ethereal structure about us that stand in a higher plane of development than earthly matter which is a gross form of disturbed energy. there are also lower planes. man's acquaintance with the forms of energy is the result of his power of perceiving the forms of matter of which he is a part. heat, light, gravitation, electricity and magnetism are ever present in all perceivable substances, and, although purer than earth, they are still manifestations of absolute energy, and for this reason are sensible to men, but more evanescent than material bodies. perhaps you can conceive that if these disturbances could be removed, matter or force would be resolved back into pure energy, and would vanish. such a dissociation is an ethereal existence, and as pure energy the life spirit of all material things is neither cold nor hot, heavy nor light, solid, liquid nor gaseous--men can not, as mortals now exist, see, feel, smell, taste, or even conceive of it. it moves through space as we do through it, a world of itself as transparent to matter as matter is to it, insensible but ever present, a reality to higher existences that rest in other planes, but not to us an essence subject to scientific test, nor an entity. of these problems and their connection with others in the unseen depths beyond, you are not yet in a position properly to judge, but before many years a new sense will be given you or a development of latent senses by the removal of those more gross, and a partial insight into an unsuspected unseen, into a realm to you at present unknown. "it has been ordained that a select few must from time to time pass over the threshold that divides a mortal's present life from the future, and your lot has been cast among the favored ones. it is or should be deemed a privilege to be permitted to pass farther than human philosophy has yet gone, into an investigation of the problems of life; this i say to encourage you. we have in our order a handful of persons who have received the accumulated fruits of the close attention others have given to these subjects which have been handed to them by the generations of men who have preceded. you are destined to become as they are. this study of semi-occult forces has enabled those selected for the work to master some of the concealed truths of being, and by the partial development of a new sense or new senses, partly to triumph over death. these facts are hidden from ordinary man, and from the earth-bound workers of our brotherhood, who can not even interpret the words they learn. the methods by which they are elucidated have been locked from man because the world is not prepared to receive them, selfishness being the ruling passion of debased mankind, and publicity, until the chain of evidence is more complete, would embarrass their further evolutions, for man as yet lives on the selfish plane." "do you mean that, among men, there are a few persons possessed of powers such as you have mentioned?" "yes; they move here and there through all orders of society, and their attainments are unknown, except to one another, or, at most, to but few persons. these adepts are scientific men, and may not even be recognized as members of our organization; indeed it is often necessary, for obvious reasons, that they should not be known as such. these studies must constantly be prosecuted in various directions, and some monitors must teach others to perform certain duties that are necessary to the grand evolution. hence, when a man has become one of our brotherhood, from the promptings that made you one of us, and has been as ready and determined to instruct outsiders in our work as you have been, it is proper that he should in turn be compelled to serve our people, and eventually, mankind." "am i to infer from this," i exclaimed, a sudden light breaking upon me, "that the alchemistic manuscript that led me to the fraternity to which you are related may have been artfully designed to serve the interest of that organization?" to this question i received no reply. after an interval, i again sought information concerning the order, and with more success. "i understand that you propose that i shall go on a journey of investigation for the good of our order and also of humanity." "true; it is necessary that our discoveries be kept alive, and it is essential that the men who do this work accept the trust of their own accord. he who will not consent to add to the common stock of knowledge and understanding, must be deemed a drone in the hive of nature--but few persons, however, are called upon to serve as you must serve. men are scattered over the world with this object in view, and are unknown to their families or even to other members of the order; they hold in solemn trust our sacred revelations, and impart them to others as is ordained, and thus nothing perishes; eventually humanity will profit. "others, as you soon will be doing, are now exploring assigned sections of this illimitable field, accumulating further knowledge, and they will report results to those whose duty it is to retain and formulate the collected sum of facts and principles. so it is that, unknown to the great body of our brotherhood, a chosen number, under our esoteric teachings, are gradually passing the dividing line that separates life from death, matter from spirit, for we have members who have mastered these problems. we ask, however, no aid of evil forces or of necromancy or black art, and your study of alchemy was of no avail, although to save the vital truths alchemy is a part of our work. we proceed in exact accordance with natural laws, which will yet be known to all men. sorrow, suffering, pain of all descriptions, are enemies to the members of our order, as they are to mankind broadly, and we hope in the future so to control the now hidden secrets of nature as to be able to govern the antagonistic disturbances in energy with which man now is everywhere thwarted, to subdue the physical enemies of the race, to affiliate religious and scientific thought, cultivating brotherly love, the foundation and capstone, the cement and union of this ancient fraternity." "and am i really to take an important part in this scheme? have i been set apart to explore a section of the unknown for a bit of hidden knowledge, and to return again?" "this i will say," he answered, evading a direct reply, "you have been selected for a part that one in a thousand has been required to undertake. you are to pass into a field that will carry you beyond the present limits of human observation. this much i have been instructed to impart to you in order to nerve you for your duty. i seem to be a young man; really i am aged. you seem to be infirm and old, but you are young. many years ago, cycles ago as men record time, i was promoted to do a certain work because of my zealous nature; like you, i also had to do penance for an error. i disappeared, as you are destined to do, from the sight of men. i regained my youth; yours has been lost forever, but you will regain more than your former strength. we shall both exist after this generation of men has passed away, and shall mingle with generations yet to be born, for we shall learn how to restore our youthful vigor, and will supply it time and again to earthly matter. rest assured also that the object of our labors is of the most laudable nature, and we must be upheld under all difficulties by the fact that multitudes of men who are yet to come will be benefited thereby." chapter xi. my journey continues.--instinct. it is unnecessary for me to give the details of the first part of my long journey. my companion was guided by a perceptive faculty that, like the compass, enabled him to keep in the proper course. he did not question those whom we met, and made no endeavor to maintain a given direction; and yet he was traveling in a part of the country that was new to himself. i marveled at the accuracy of his intuitive perception, for he seemed never to be at fault. when the road forked, he turned to the right or the left in a perfectly careless manner, but the continuity of his course was never interrupted. i began mentally to question whether he could be guiding us aright, forgetting that he was reading my thoughts, and he answered: "there is nothing strange in this self-directive faculty. is not man capable of following where animals lead? one of the objects of my special study has been to ascertain the nature of the instinct-power of animals, the sagacity of brutes. the carrier pigeon will fly to its cote across hundreds of miles of strange country. the young pig will often return to its pen by a route unknown to it; the sluggish tortoise will find its home without a guide, without seeing a familiar object; cats, horses and other animals possess this power, which is not an unexplainable instinct, but a natural sense better developed in some of the lower creatures than it is in man. the power lies dormant in man, but exists, nevertheless. if we develop one faculty we lose acuteness in some other power. men have lost in mental development in this particular direction while seeking to gain in others. if there were no record of the fact that light brings objects to the recognition of the mind through the agency of the eye, the sense of sight in an animal would be considered by men devoid of it as adaptability to extraordinary circumstances, or instinct. so it is that animals often see clearly where to the sense of man there is only darkness; such sight is not irresponsive action without consciousness of a purpose. man is not very magnanimous. instead of giving credit to the lower animals for superior perception in many directions, he denies to them the conscious possession of powers imperfectly developed in mankind. we egotistically aim to raise ourselves, and do so in our own estimation by clothing the actions of the lower animals in a garment of irresponsibility. because we can not understand the inwardness of their power, we assert that they act by the influence of instinct. the term instinct, as i would define it, is an expression applied by men to a series of senses which man possesses, but has not developed. the word is used by man to characterize the mental superiority of other animals in certain directions where his own senses are defective. instead of crediting animals with these, to them, invaluable faculties, man conceitedly says they are involuntary actions. ignorant of their mental status, man is too arrogant to admit that lower animals are superior to him in any way. but we are not consistent. is it not true that in the direction in which you question my power, some men by cultivation often become expert beyond their fellows? and such men have also given very little systematic study to subjects connected with these undeniable mental qualities. the hunter will hold his course in utter darkness, passing inequalities in the ground, and avoiding obstructions he can not see. the fact of his superiority in this way, over others, is not questioned, although he can not explain his methods nor understand how he operates. his quickened sense is often as much entitled to be called instinct as is the divining power of the carrier pigeon. if scholars would cease to devote their entire energies to the development of the material, artistic, or scientific part of modern civilization, and turn their attention to other forms of mental culture, many beauties and powers of nature now unknown would be revealed. however, this can not be, for under existing conditions, the strife for food and warmth is the most important struggle that engages mankind, and controls our actions. in a time that is surely to come, however, when the knowledge of all men is united into a comprehensive whole, the book of life, illuminated thereby, will contain many beautiful pages that may be easily read, but which are now not suspected to exist. the power of the magnet is not uniform--engineers know that the needle of the compass inexplicably deviates from time to time as a line is run over the earth's surface, but they also know that aberrations of the needle finally correct themselves. the temporary variations of a few degrees that occur in the running of a compass line are usually overcome after a time, and without a change of course, the disturbed needle swerves back, and again points to the calculated direction, as is shown by the vernier. should i err in my course, it would be by a trifle only, and we could not go far astray before i would unconsciously discover the true path. i carry my magnet in my mind." many such dissertations or explanations concerning related questions were subsequently made in what i then considered a very impressive, though always unsatisfactory, manner. i recall those episodes now, after other more remarkable experiences which are yet to be related, and record them briefly with little wonderment, because i have gone through adventures which demonstrate that there is nothing improbable in the statements, and i will not consume time with further details of this part of my journey. we leisurely traversed state after state, crossed rivers, mountains and seemingly interminable forests. the ultimate object of our travels, a location in kentucky, i afterward learned, led my companion to guide me by a roundabout course to wheeling, virginia, by the usual mountain roads of that day, instead of going, as he might perhaps have much more easily done, via buffalo and the lake shore to northern ohio, and then southerly across the country. he said in explanation, that the time lost at the beginning of our journey by this route, was more than recompensed by the ease of the subsequent ohio river trip. upon reaching wheeling, he disposed of the team, and we embarked on a keel boat, and journeyed down the ohio to cincinnati. the river was falling when we started, and became very low before cincinnati was reached, too low for steamers, and our trip in that flat-bottomed boat, on the sluggish current of the tortuous stream, proved tedious and slow. arriving at cincinnati, my guide decided to wait for a rise in the river, designing then to complete our journey on a steamboat. i spent several days in cincinnati quite pleasantly, expecting to continue our course on the steamer "tecumseh," then in port, and ready for departure. at the last moment my guide changed his mind, and instead of embarking on that boat, we took passage on the steamer "george washington," leaving shipping-port wednesday, december , . during that entire journey, from the commencement to our final destination, my guide paid all the bills, and did not want either for money or attention from the people with whom we came in contact. he seemed everywhere a stranger, and yet was possessed of a talisman that opened every door to which he applied, and which gave us unlimited accommodations wherever he asked them. when the boat landed at smithland, kentucky, a village on the bank of the ohio, just above paducah, we disembarked, and my guide then for the first time seemed mentally disturbed. "our journey together is nearly over," he said; "in a few days my responsibility for you will cease. nerve yourself for the future, and bear its trials and its pleasures manfully. i may never see you again, but as you are even now conspicuous in our history, and will be closely connected with the development of the plan in which i am also interested, although i am destined to take a different part, i shall probably hear of you again." chapter xii. a cavern discovered.--biswell's hill. we stopped that night at a tavern in smithland. leaving this place after dinner the next day, on foot, we struck through the country, into the bottom lands of the cumberland river, traveling leisurely, lingering for hours in the course of a circuitous tramp of only a few miles. although it was the month of december, the climate was mild and balmy. in my former home, a similar time of year would have been marked with snow, sleet, and ice, and i could not but draw a contrast between the two localities. how different also the scenery from that of my native state. great timber trees, oak, poplar, hickory, were in majestic possession of large tracts of territory, in the solitude of which man, so far as evidences of his presence were concerned, had never before trodden. from time to time we passed little clearings that probably were to be enlarged to thrifty plantations in the future, and finally we crossed the cumberland river. that night we rested with mr. joseph watts, a wealthy and cultured land owner, who resided on the river's bank. after leaving his home the next morning, we journeyed slowly, very slowly, my guide seemingly passing with reluctance into the country. he had become a very pleasant companion, and his conversation was very entertaining. we struck the sharp point of a ridge the morning we left mr. watts' hospitable house. it was four or five miles distant, but on the opposite side of the cumberland, from smithland. here a steep bluff broke through the bottom land to the river's edge, the base of the bisected point being washed by the cumberland river, which had probably cut its way through the stony mineral of this ridge in ages long passed. we climbed to its top and sat upon the pinnacle, and from that point of commanding observation i drank in the beauties of the scene around me. the river at our feet wound gracefully before us, and disappeared in both directions, its extremes dissolving in a bed of forest. a great black bluff, far up the stream, rose like a mountain, upon the left side of the river; bottom lands were about us, and hills appeared across the river in the far distance--towards the tennessee river. with regret i finally drew my eyes from the vision, and we resumed the journey. we followed the left bank of the river to the base of the black bluff,--"biswell's hill," a squatter called it,--and then skirted the side of that hill, passing along precipitous stone bluffs and among stunted cedars. above us towered cliff over cliff, almost perpendicularly; below us rolled the river. [illustration: section of kentucky, near smithland, in which the entrance to the kentucky cavern is said to be located.] i was deeply impressed by the changing beauties of this strange kentucky scenery, but marveled at the fact that while i became light-hearted and enthusiastic, my guide grew correspondingly despondent and gloomy. from time to time he lapsed into thoughtful silence, and once i caught his eye directed toward me in a manner that i inferred to imply either pity or envy. we passed biswell's bluff, and left the cumberland river at its upper extremity, where another small creek empties into the river. thence, after ascending the creek some distance, we struck across the country, finding it undulating and fertile, with here and there a small clearing. during this journey we either camped out at night, or stopped with a resident, when one was to be found in that sparsely settled country. sometimes there were exasperating intervals between our meals; but we did not suffer, for we carried with us supplies of food, such as cheese and crackers, purchased in smithland, for emergencies. we thus proceeded a considerable distance into livingston county, kentucky. i observed remarkable sinks in the earth, sometimes cone-shaped, again precipitous. these cavities were occasionally of considerable size and depth, and they were more numerous in the uplands than in the bottoms. they were somewhat like the familiar "sink-holes" of new york state, but monstrous in comparison. the first that attracted my attention was near the cumberland river, just before we reached biswell's hill. it was about forty feet deep and thirty in diameter, with precipitous stone sides, shrubbery growing therein in exceptional spots where loose earth had collected on shelves of stone that cropped out along its rugged sides. the bottom of the depression was flat and fertile, covered with a luxuriant mass of vegetation. on one side of the base of the gigantic bowl, a cavern struck down into the earth. i stood upon the edge of this funnel-like sink, and marveled at its peculiar appearance. a spirit of curiosity, such as often influences men when an unusual natural scene presents itself, possessed me. i clambered down, swinging from brush to brush, and stepping from shelving-rock to shelving-rock, until i reached the bottom of the hollow, and placing my hand above the black hole in its center, i perceived that a current of cold air was rushing therefrom, upward. i probed with a long stick, but the direction of the opening was tortuous, and would not admit of examination in that manner. i dropped a large pebble-stone into the orifice; the pebble rolled and clanked down, down, and at last, the sound died away in the distance. "i wish that i could go into the cavity as that stone has done, and find the secrets of this cave," i reflected, the natural love of exploration possessing me as it probably does most men. my companion above, seated on the brink of the stone wall, replied to my thoughts: "your wish shall be granted. you have requested that which has already been laid out for you. you will explore where few men have passed before, and will have the privilege of following your destiny into a realm of natural wonders. a fertile field of investigation awaits you, such as will surpass your most vivid imaginings. come and seat yourself beside me, for it is my duty now to tell you something about the land we are approaching, the cavern fields of kentucky." chapter xiii. the punch-bowls and caverns of kentucky.--"into the unknown country." "this part of kentucky borders a field of caverns that reaches from near the state of tennessee to the ohio river, and from the mouth of the cumberland, eastward to and beyond the center of the state. this great area is of irregular outline, and as yet has been little explored. underneath the surface are layers of limestone and sandstone rock, the deposits ranging from ten to one hundred and fifty feet in thickness, and often great masses of conglomerate appear. this conglomerate sometimes caps the ridges, and varies in thickness from a few feet only, to sixty, or even a hundred, feet. it is of a diversified character, sometimes largely composed of pebbles cemented together by iron ore into compact beds, while again it passes abruptly into gritty sandstone, or a fine-grained compact rock destitute of pebbles. sometimes the conglomerate rests directly on the limestone, but in the section about us, more often argillaceous shales or veins of coal intervene, and occasionally inferior and superior layers of conglomerate are separated by a bed of coal. in addition, lead-bearing veins now and then crop up, the crystals of galena being disseminated through masses of fluor-spar, calc-spar, limestone and clay, which fill fissures between tilted walls of limestone and hard quartzose sandstone. valleys, hills, and mountains, grow out of this remarkable crust. rivers and creeks flow through and under it in crevices, either directly upon the bedstone or over deposits of clay which underlie it. in some places, beds of coal or slate alternate with layers of the lime rock; in others, the interspace is clay and sand. sometimes the depth of the several limestone and conglomerate deposits is great, and they are often honeycombed by innumerable transverse and diagonal spaces. water drips have here and there washed out the more friable earth and stone, forming grottoes which are as yet unknown to men, but which will be discovered to be wonderful and fantastic beyond anything of a like nature now familiar. in other places cavities exist between shelves of rock that lie one above the other--monstrous openings caused by the erosive action of rivers now lost, but that have flowed during unnumbered ages past; great parallel valleys and gigantic chambers, one over the other, remaining to tell the story of these former torrents. occasionally the weight of a portion of the disintegrating rock above becomes too great for its tensile strength and the material crumbles and falls, producing caverns sometimes reaching so near to the earth's surface, as to cause sinks in its crust. these sinks, when first formed, as a rule, present clear rock fractures, and immediately after their formation there is usually a water-way beneath. in the course of time soil collects on their sides, they become cone-shaped hollows from the down-slidings of earth, and then vegetation appears on the living soil; trees grow within them, and in many places the sloping sides of great earth bowls of this nature are, after untold years, covered with the virgin forest; magnificent timber trees growing on soil that has been stratified over and upon decayed monarchs of the forest whose remains, imbedded in the earth, speak of the ages that have passed since the convulsions that made the depressions which, notwithstanding the accumulated debris, are still a hundred feet or more in depth. if the drain or exit at the vortex of one of these sinks becomes clogged, which often occurs, the entire cavity fills with water, and a pond results. again, a slight orifice reaching far beneath the earth's surface may permit the soil to be gradually washed into a subterranean creek, and thus are formed great bowls, like funnels sunk in the earth--kentucky punch-bowls. "take the country about us, especially towards the mammoth cave, and for miles beyond, the landscape in certain localities is pitted with this description of sinks, some recent, others very old. many are small, but deep; others are large and shallow. ponds often of great depth, curiously enough overflowing and giving rise to a creek, are to be found on a ridge, telling of underground supply springs, not outlets, beneath. chains of such sinks, like a row of huge funnels, often appear; the soil between them is slowly washed through their exit into the river, flowing in the depths below, and as the earth that separates them is carried away by the subterranean streams, the bowls coalesce and a ravine, closed at both ends, results. along the bottom of such a ravine, a creek may flow, rushing from its natural tunnel at one end of the line, and disappearing in a gulf at the other. the stream begins in mystery, and ends in unfathomed darkness. near marion, hurricane creek thus disappears, and, so far as men know, is lost to sight forever. near cridersville, in this neighborhood, a valley such as i have described, takes in the surface floods of a large tract of country. the waters that run down its sides, during a storm form a torrent, and fence-rails, timbers, and other objects are gulped into the chasm where the creek plunges into the earth, and they never appear again. this part of kentucky is the most remarkable portion of the known world, and although now neglected, in a time to come is surely destined to an extended distinction. i have referred only to the surface, the skin formation of this honeycombed labyrinth, the entrance to the future wonderland of the world. portions of such a superficial cavern maze have been traversed by man in the ramifications known as the mammoth cave, but deeper than man has yet explored, the subcutaneous structure of that series of caverns is yet to be investigated. the mammoth cave as now traversed is simply a superficial series of grottoes and passages overlying the deeper cavern field that i have described. the explored chain of passages is of great interest to men, it is true, but of minor importance compared to others yet unknown, being in fact, the result of mere surface erosion. the river that bisects the cave, just beneath the surface of the earth, and known as echo river, is a miniature stream: there are others more magnificent that flow majestically far, far beneath it. as we descend into the earth in that locality, caverns multiply in number and increase in size, retaining the general configuration of those i have described. the layers of rock are thicker, the intervening spaces broader; and the spaces stretch in increasingly expanded chambers for miles, while high above each series of caverns the solid ceilings of stone arch and interarch. sheltered under these subterrene alcoves are streams, lakes, rivers and water-falls. near the surface of the earth such waters often teem with aquatic life, and some of the caves are inhabited by species of birds, reptiles and mammals as yet unknown to men, creatures possessed of senses and organs that are different from any we find with surface animals, and also apparently defective in particulars that would startle persons acquainted only with creatures that live in the sunshine. it is a world beneath a world, a world within a world--" my guide abruptly stopped. i sat entranced, marveling at the young-old adept's knowledge, admiring his accomplishments. i gazed into the cavity that yawned beneath me, and imagined its possible but to me invisible secrets, enraptured with the thought of searching into them. who would not feel elated at the prospect of an exploration, such as i foresaw might be pursued in my immediate future? i had often been charmed with narrative descriptions of discoveries, and book accounts of scientific investigations, but i had never pictured myself as a participant in such fascinating enterprises. "indeed, indeed," i cried exultingly; "lead me to this wonderland, show me the entrance to this subterranean world, and i promise willingly to do as you bid." "bravo!" he replied, "your heart is right, your courage sufficient; i have not disclosed a thousandth part of the wonders which i have knowledge of, and which await your research, and probably i have not gained even an insight into the mysteries that, if your courage permits, you will be privileged to comprehend. your destiny lies beyond, far beyond that which i have pictured or experienced; and i, notwithstanding my opportunities, have no conception of its end, for at the critical moment my heart faltered--i can therefore only describe the beginning." thus at the lower extremity of biswell's hill, i was made aware of the fact that, within a short time, i should be separated from my sympathetic guide, and that it was to be my duty to explore alone, or in other company, some portion of these kentucky cavern deeps, and i longed for the beginning of my underground journey. heavens! how different would have been my future life could i then have realized my position! would that i could have seen the end. after a few days of uneventful travel, we rested, one afternoon, in a hilly country that before us appeared to be more rugged, even mountainous. we had wandered leisurely, and were now at a considerable distance from the cumberland river, the aim of my guide being, as i surmised, to evade a direct approach to some object of interest which i must not locate exactly, and yet which i shall try to describe accurately enough for identification by a person familiar with the topography of that section. we stood on the side of a stony, sloping hill, back of which spread a wooded, undulating valley. "i remember to have passed along a creek in that valley," i remarked, looking back over our pathway. "it appeared to rise from this direction, but the source ends abruptly in this chain of hills." "the stream is beneath us," he answered. advancing a few paces, he brought to my attention, on the hillside, an opening in the earth. this aperture was irregular in form, about the diameter of a well, and descended perpendicularly into the stony crust. i leaned far over the orifice, and heard the gurgle of rushing water beneath. the guide dropped a heavy stone into the gloomy shaft, and in some seconds a dull splash announced its plunge into underground water. then he leaned over the stony edge, and--could i be mistaken?--seemed to signal to some one beneath; but it must be imagination on my part, i argued to myself, even against my very sense of sight. rising, and taking me by the hand, my guardian spoke: "brother, we approach the spot where you and i must separate. i serve my masters and am destined to go where i shall next be commanded; you will descend into the earth, as you have recently desired to do. here we part, most likely forever. this rocky fissure will admit the last ray of sunlight on your path." my heart failed. how often are we courageous in daylight and timid by night? men unflinchingly face in sunshine dangers at which they shudder in the darkness. "how am i to descend into that abyss?" i gasped. "the sides are perpendicular, the depth is unknown!" then i cried in alarm, the sense of distrust deepening: "do you mean to drown me; is it for this you have led me away from my native state, from friends, home and kindred? you have enticed me into this wilderness. i have been decoyed, and, like a foolish child, have willingly accompanied my destroyer. you feared to murder me in my distant home; the earth could not have hidden me; niagara even might have given up my body to dismay the murderers! in this underground river in the wilds of kentucky, all trace of my existence will disappear forever." i was growing furious. my frenzied eyes searched the ground for some missile of defense. by strange chance some one had left, on that solitary spot, a rude weapon, providentially dropped for my use, i thought. it was a small iron bolt or bar, somewhat rusted. i threw myself upon the earth, and, as i did so, picked this up quickly, and secreted it within my bosom. then i arose and resumed my stormy denunciation: "you have played your part well, you have led your unresisting victim to the sacrifice, but if i am compelled to plunge into this black grave, you shall go with me!" i shrieked in desperation, and suddenly threw my arms around the gentle adept, intending to hurl him into the chasm. at this point i felt my hands seized from behind in a cold, clammy, irresistible embrace, my fingers were loosed by a strong grasp, and i turned, to find myself confronted by a singular looking being, who quietly said: "you are not to be destroyed; we wish only to do your bidding." the speaker stood in a stooping position, with his face towards the earth as if to shelter it from the sunshine. he was less than five feet in height. his arms and legs were bare, and his skin, the color of light blue putty, glistened in the sunlight like the slimy hide of a water dog. he raised his head, and i shuddered in affright as i beheld that his face was not that of a human. his forehead extended in an unbroken plane from crown to cheek bone, and the chubby tip of an abortive nose without nostrils formed a short projection near the center of the level ridge which represented a countenance. there was no semblance of an eye, for there were no sockets. yet his voice was singularly perfect. his face, if face it could be called, was wet, and water dripped from all parts of his slippery person. yet, repulsive as he looked, i shuddered more at the remembrance of the touch of that cold, clammy hand than at the sight of his figure, for a dead man could not have chilled me as he had done, with his sappy skin, from which the moisture seemed to ooze as from the hide of a water lizard. [illustration: "confronted by a singular looking being."] turning to my guide, this freak of nature said, softly: "i have come in obedience to the signal." i realized at once that alone with these two i was powerless, and that to resist would be suicidal. instantly my effervescing passion subsided, and i expressed no further surprise at this sudden and remarkable apparition, but mentally acquiesced. i was alone and helpless; rage gave place to inertia in the despondency that followed the realization of my hopeless condition. the grotesque newcomer who, though sightless, possessed a strange instinct, led us to the base of the hill a few hundred feet away, and there, gushing into the light from the rocky bluff, i saw a magnificent stream issuing many feet in width. this was the head-waters of the mysterious brook that i had previously noticed. it flowed from an archway in the solid stone, springing directly out of the rock-bound cliff; beautiful and picturesque in its surroundings. the limpid water, clear and sparkling, issued from the unknown source that was typical of darkness, but the brook of crystal leaped into a world of sunshine, light and freedom. "brother," said my companion, "this spring emerging from this prison of earth images to us what humanity will be when the prisoning walls of ignorance that now enthrall him are removed. man has heretofore relied chiefly for his advancement, both mental and physical, on knowledge gained from so-called scientific explorations and researches with matter, from material studies rather than spiritual, all his investigations having been confined to the crude, coarse substance of the surface of the globe. spiritualistic investigations, unfortunately, are considered by scientific men too often as reaching backward only. the religions of the world clasp hands with, and lean upon, the dead past, it is true, but point to a living future. man must yet search by the agency of senses and spirit, the unfathomed mysteries that lie beneath his feet and over his head, and he who refuses to bow to the creator and honor his handiwork discredits himself. when this work is accomplished, as it yet will be, the future man, able then to comprehend the problem of life in its broader significance, drawing from all directions the facts necessary to his mental advancement, will have reached a state in which he can enjoy bodily comfort and supreme spiritual perfection, while he is yet an earth-bound mortal. in hastening this consummation, it is necessary that an occasional human life should be lost to the world, but such sacrifices are noble--yes, sublime, because contributing to the future exaltation of our race. the secret workers in the sacred order of which you are still a member, have ever taken an important part in furthering such a system of evolution. this feature of our work is unknown to brethren of the ordinary fraternity, and the individual research of each secret messenger is unguessed, by the craft at large. hence it is that the open workers of our order, those initiated by degrees only, who in lodge rooms carry on their beneficent labors among men, have had no hand other than as agents in your removal, and no knowledge of your present or future movements. their function is to keep together our organization on earth, and from them only an occasional member is selected, as you have been, to perform special duties in certain adventurous studies. are you willing to go on this journey of exploration? and are you brave enough to meet the trials you have invited?" again my enthusiasm arose, and i felt the thrill experienced by an investigator who stands on the brink of an important discovery, and needs but courage to advance, and i answered, "yes." "then, farewell; this archway is the entrance that will admit you into your arcanum of usefulness. this mystic brother, though a stranger to you, has long been apprised of our coming, and it was he who sped me on my journey to seek you, and who has since been waiting for us, and is to be your guide during the first stages of your subterrene progress. he is a friend, and, if you trust him, will protect you from harm. you will find the necessaries of life supplied, for i have traversed part of your coming road; that part i therefore know, but, as i have said, you are to go deeper into the unexplored,--yes, into and beyond the beyond, until finally you will come to the gateway that leads into the 'unknown country.'" chapter xiv. farewell to god's sunshine.--the echo of the cry. thus speaking, my quiet leader, who had so long been as a shepherd to my wandering feet, on the upper earth, grasped my hands tightly, and placed them in those of my new companion, whose clammy fingers closed over them as with a grip of iron. the mysterious being, now my custodian, turned towards the creek, drawing me after him, and together we silently and solemnly waded beneath the stone archway. as i passed under the shadow of that dismal, yawning cliff, i turned my head to take one last glimpse of the world i had known--that "warm precinct of the cheerful day,"--and tears sprang to my eyes. i thought of life, family, friends,--of all for which men live--and a melancholy vision arose, that of my lost, lost home. my dear companion of the journey that had just ended stood in the sunlight on the banks of the rippling stream, gazing at us intently, and waved an affectionate farewell. my uncouth new associate (guide or master, whichever he might be), of the journey to come, clasped me firmly by the arms, and waded slowly onward, thrusting me steadily against the cold current, and with irresistible force pressed me into the thickening darkness. the daylight disappeared, the pathway contracted, the water deepened and became more chilly. we were constrained to bow our heads in order to avoid the overhanging vault of stone; the water reached to my chin, and now the down-jutting roof touched the crown of my head; then i shuddered convulsively as the last ray of daylight disappeared. had it not been for my companion, i know that i should have sunk in despair, and drowned; but with a firm hand he held my head above the water, and steadily pushed me onward. i had reached the extreme of despondency: i neither feared nor cared for life nor death, and i realized that, powerless to control my own acts, my fate, the future, my existence depended on the strange being beside me. i was mysteriously sustained, however, by a sense of bodily security, such as comes over us as when in the hands of an experienced guide we journey through a wilderness, for i felt that my pilot of the underworld did not purpose to destroy me. we halted a moment, and then, as a faint light overspread us, my eyeless guide directed me to look upward. "we now stand beneath the crevice which you were told by your former guide would admit the last ray of sunlight on your path. i also say to you, this struggling ray of sunlight is to be your last for years." i gazed above me, feeling all the wretchedness of a dying man who, with faculties intact, might stand on the dark edge of the hillside of eternity, glancing back into the bright world; and that small opening far, far overhead, seemed as the gate to paradise lost. many a person, assured of ascending at will, has stood at the bottom of a deep well or shaft to a mine, and even then felt the undescribable sensation of dread, often terror, that is produced by such a situation. awe, mystery, uncertainty of life and future superadded, may express my sensation. i trembled, shrinking in horror from my captor and struggled violently. "hold, hold," i begged, as one involuntarily prays a surgeon to delay the incision of the amputating knife, "just one moment." my companion, unheeding, moved on, the light vanished instantly, and we were surrounded by total darkness. god's sunshine was blotted out. [illustration: "this struggling ray of sunlight is to be your last for years."] then i again became unconcerned; i was not now responsible for my own existence, and the feeling that i experienced when a prisoner in the closed carriage returned. i grew careless as to my fate, and with stolid indifference struggled onward as we progressed slowly against the current of water. i began to interest myself in speculations regarding our surroundings, and the object or outcome of our journey. in places the water was shallow, scarce reaching to our ankles; again it was so deep that we could wade only with exertion, and at times the passage up which we toiled was so narrow, that it would scarcely admit us. after a long, laborious stemming of the unseen brook, my companion directed me to close my mouth, hold my nostrils with my fingers, and stoop; almost diving with me beneath the water, he drew me through the submerged crevice, and we ascended into an open chamber, and left the creek behind us. i fancied that we were in a large room, and as i shouted aloud to test my hypothesis, echo after echo answered, until at last the cry reverberated and died away in distant murmurs. we were evidently in a great pocket or cavern, through which my guide now walked rapidly; indeed, he passed along with unerring footsteps, as certain of his course as i might be on familiar ground in full daylight. i perceived that he systematically evaded inequalities that i could not anticipate nor see. he would tell me to step up or down, as the surroundings required, and we ascended or descended accordingly. our path turned to the right or the left from time to time, but my eyeless guide passed through what were evidently the most tortuous windings without a mishap. i wondered much at this gift of knowledge, and at last overcame my reserve sufficiently to ask how we could thus unerringly proceed in utter darkness. the reply was: "the path is plainly visible to me; i see as clearly in pitch darkness as you can in sunshine." "explain yourself further," i requested. he replied, "not yet;" and continued, "you are weary, we will rest." he conducted me to a seat on a ledge, and left me for a time. returning soon, he placed in my hands food which i ate with novel relish. the pabulum seemed to be of vegetable origin, though varieties of it had a peculiar flesh-like flavor. several separate and distinct substances were contained in the queer viands, some portions savoring of wholesome flesh, while others possessed the delicate flavors of various fruits, such as the strawberry and the pineapple. the strange edibles were of a pulpy texture, homogeneous in consistence, parts being juicy and acid like grateful fruits. some portions were in slices or films that i could hold in my hand like sections of a velvet melon, and yet were in many respects unlike any other food that i had ever tasted. there was neither rind nor seed; it seemed as though i were eating the gills of a fish, and in answer to my question the guide remarked: "yes; it is the gill, but not the gill of a fish. you will be instructed in due time." i will add that after this, whenever necessary, we were supplied with food, but both thirst and hunger disappeared altogether before our underground journey was finished. after a while we again began our journey, which we continued in what was to me absolute darkness. my strength seemed to endure the fatigue to a wonderful degree, notwithstanding that we must have been walking hour after hour, and i expressed a curiosity about the fact. my guide replied that the atmosphere of the cavern possessed an intrinsic vitalizing power that neutralized fatigue, "or," he said, "there is here an inherent constitutional energy derived from an active gaseous substance that belongs to cavern air at this depth, and sustains the life force by contributing directly to its conservation, taking the place of food and drink." "i do not understand," i said. "no; and you do not comprehend how ordinary air supports mind and vitalizes muscle, and at the same time wears out both muscle and all other tissues. these are facts which are not satisfactorily explained by scientific statements concerning oxygenation of the blood. as we descend into the earth we find an increase in the life force of the cavern air." this reference to surface earth recalled my former life, and led me to contrast my present situation with that i had forfeited. i was seized with an uncontrollable longing for home, and a painful craving for the past took possession of my heart, but with a strong effort i shook off the sensations. we traveled on and on in silence and in darkness, and i thought again of the strange remark of my former guide who had said: "you are destined to go deeper into the unknown; yes, into and beyond the beyond." chapter xv. a zone of light deep within the earth. "oh! for one glimpse of light, a ray of sunshine!" in reply to this my mental ejaculation, my guide said: "can not you perceive that the darkness is becoming less intense?" "no," i answered, "i can not; night is absolute." "are you sure?" he asked. "cover your eyes with your hands, then uncover and open them." i did so and fancied that by contrast a faint gray hue was apparent. "this must be imagination." "no; we now approach a zone of earth light; let us hasten on." "a zone of light deep in the earth! incomprehensible! incredible!" i muttered, and yet as we went onward and time passed the darkness was less intense. the barely perceptible hue became gray and somber, and then of a pearly translucence, and although i could not distinguish the outline of objects, yet i unquestionably perceived light. "i am amazed! what can be the cause of this phenomenon? what is the nature of this mysterious halo that surrounds us?" i held my open hand before my eyes, and perceived the darkness of my spread fingers. "it is light, it is light," i shouted, "it is really light!" and from near and from far the echoes of that subterranean cavern answered back joyfully, "it is light, it is light!" i wept in joy, and threw my arms about my guide, forgetting in the ecstasy his clammy cuticle, and danced in hysterical glee and alternately laughed and cried. how vividly i realized then that the imprisoned miner would give a world of gold, his former god, for a ray of light. "compose yourself; this emotional exhibition is an evidence of weakness; an investigator should neither become depressed over a reverse, nor unduly enthusiastic over a fortunate discovery." "but we approach the earth's surface? soon i will be back in the sunshine again." "upon the contrary, we have been continually descending into the earth, and we are now ten miles or more beneath the level of the ocean." [illustration: "we approach daylight, i can see your form."] i shrank back, hesitated, and in despondency gazed at his hazy outline, then, as if palsied, sank upon the stony floor; but as i saw the light before me, i leaped up and shouted: "what you say is not true; we approach daylight, i can see your form." "listen to me," he said. "can not you understand that i have led you continually down a steep descent, and that for hours there has been no step upward? with but little exertion you have walked this distance without becoming wearied, and you could not, without great fatigue, have ascended for so long a period. you are entering a zone of inner earth light; we are in the surface, the upper edge of it. let us hasten on, for when this cavern darkness is at an end--and i will say we have nearly passed that limit--your courage will return, and then we will rest." "you surely do not speak the truth; science and philosophy, and i am somewhat versed in both, have never told me of such a light." "can philosophers more than speculate about that which they have not experienced if they have no data from which to calculate? name the student in science who has reached this depth in earth, or has seen a man to tell him of these facts?" "i can not." "then why should you have expected any of them to describe our surroundings? misguided men will torture science by refuting facts with theories; but a fact is no less a fact when science opposes." [illustration: "seated himself on a natural bench of stone."] i recognized the force of his arguments, and cordially grasped his hand in indication of submission. we continued our journey, and rapidly traveled downward and onward. the light gradually increased in intensity, until at length the cavern near about us seemed to be as bright as diffused daylight could have made it. there was apparently no central point of radiation; the light was such as to pervade and exist in the surrounding space, somewhat as the vapor of phosphorus spreads a self-luminous haze throughout the bubble into which it is blown. the visual agent surrounding us had a permanent, self-existing luminosity, and was a pervading, bright, unreachable essence that, without an obvious origin, diffused itself equally in all directions. it reminded me of the form of light that in previous years i had seen described as epipolic dispersion, and as i refer to the matter i am of the opinion that man will yet find that the same cause produces both phenomena. i was informed now by the sense of sight, that we were in a cavern room of considerable size. the apartment presented somewhat the appearance of the usual underground caverns that i had seen pictured in books, and yet was different. stalactites, stalagmites, saline incrustations, occurring occasionally reminded me of travelers' stories, but these objects were not so abundant as might be supposed. such accretions or deposits of saline substances as i noticed were also disappointing, in that, instead of having a dazzling brilliancy, like frosted snow crystals, they were of a uniform gray or brown hue. indeed, my former imaginative mental creations regarding underground caverns were dispelled in this somber stone temple, for even the floor and the fragments of stone that, in considerable quantities, strewed the floor, were of the usual rock formations of upper earth. the glittering crystals of snowy white or rainbow tints (fairy caverns) pictured by travelers, and described as inexpressibly grand and beautiful in other cavern labyrinths, were wanting here, and i saw only occasional small clusters of quartz crystals that were other than of a dull gray color. finally, after hours or perhaps days of travel, interspersed with restings, conversations, and arguments, amid which i could form no idea of the flight of time, my companion seated himself on a natural bench of stone, and directed me to rest likewise. he broke the silence, and spoke as follows: chapter xvi. vitalized darkness.--the narrows in science. "in studying any branch of science men begin and end with an unknown. the chemist accepts as data such conditions of matter as he finds about him, and connects ponderable matter with the displays of energy that have impressed his senses, building therefrom a span of theoretical science, but he can not formulate as yet an explanation regarding the origin or the end of either mind, matter, or energy. the piers supporting his fabric stand in a profound invisible gulf, into which even his imagination can not look to form a theory concerning basic formations--corner-stones. "the geologist, in a like manner, grasps feebly the lessons left in the superficial fragments of earth strata, impressions that remain to bear imperfect record of a few of the disturbances that have affected the earth's crust, and he endeavors to formulate a story of the world's life, but he is neither able to antedate the records shown by the meager testimony at his command, scraps of a leaf out of god's great book of history, nor to anticipate coming events. the birth, as well as the death, of this planet is beyond his page. "the astronomer directs his telescope to the heavens, records the position of the planets, and hopes to discover the influences worlds exert upon one another. he explores space to obtain data to enable him to delineate a map of the visible solar universe, but the instruments he has at command are so imperfect, and mind is so feeble that, like mockery seems his attempt to study behind the facts connected with the motions and conditions of the nearest heavenly bodies, and he can not offer an explanation of the beginning or cessation of their movements. he can neither account for their existence, nor foretell their end." "are you not mistaken?" i interrupted; "does not the astronomer foretell eclipses, and calculate the orbits of the planets, and has he not verified predictions concerning their several motions?" "yes; but this is simply a study of passing events. the astronomer is no more capable of grasping an idea that reaches into an explanation of the origin of motion, than the chemist or physicist, from exact scientific data, can account for the creation of matter. give him any amount of material at rest, and he can not conceive of any method by which motion can disturb any part of it, unless such motion be mass motion communicated from without, or molecular motion, already existing within. he accounts for the phases of present motion in heavenly bodies, not for the primal cause of the actual movements or intrinsic properties they possess. he can neither originate a theory that will permit of motion creating itself, and imparting itself to quiescent matter, nor imagine how an atom of quiescent matter can be moved, unless motion from without be communicated thereto. the astronomer, i assert, can neither from any data at his command postulate nor prove the beginning nor the end of the reverberating motion that exists in his solar system, which is itself the fragment of a system that is circulating and revolving in and about itself, and in which, since the birth of man, the universe he knows has not passed the first milestone in the road that universe is traveling in space immensity. "the mathematician starts a line from an imaginary point that he informs us exists theoretically without occupying any space, which is a contradiction of terms according to his human acceptation of knowledge derived from scientific experiment, if science is based on verified facts. he assumes that straight lines exist, which is a necessity for his calculation; but such a line he has never made. even the beam of sunshine, radiating through a clear atmosphere or a cloud bank, widens and contracts again as it progresses through the various mediums of air and vapor currents, and if it is ever spreading and deflecting can it be straight? he begins his study in the unknown, it ends with the unknowable. "the biologist can conceive of no rational, scientific beginning to life of plant or animal, and men of science must admit the fact. whenever we turn our attention to nature's laws and nature's substance, we find man surrounded by the infinity that obscures the origin and covers the end. but perseverance, study of nature's forces, and comparison of the past with the present, will yet clarify human knowledge and make plain much of this seemingly mysterious, but never will man reach the beginning or the end. the course of human education, to this day, has been mostly materialistic, although, together with the study of matter, there has been more or less attention given to its moving spirit. newton was the dividing light in scientific thought; he stepped between the reasonings of the past and the provings of the present, and introduced problems that gave birth to a new scientific tendency, a change from the study of matter from the material side to that of force and matter, but his thought has since been carried out in a mode too realistic by far. the study of material bodies has given way, it is true, in a few cases to the study of the spirit of matter, and evolution is beginning to teach men that matter is crude. as a result, thought will in its sequence yet show that modifications of energy expression are paramount. this work is not lost, however, for the consideration of the nature of sensible material, is preliminary and necessary to progression (as the life of the savage prepares the way for that of the cultivated student), and is a meager and primitive child's effort, compared with the richness of the study in unseen energy expressions that are linked with matter, of which men will yet learn." "i comprehend some of this," i replied; "but i am neither prepared to assent to nor dissent from your conclusions, and my mind is not clear as to whether your logic is good or bad. i am more ready to speak plainly about my own peculiar situation than to become absorbed in abstruse arguments in science, and i marvel more at the soft light that is here surrounding us than at the metaphysical reasoning in which you indulge." "the child ignorant of letters wonders at the resources of those who can spell and read, and, in like manner, many obscure natural phenomena are marvelous to man only because of his ignorance. you do not comprehend the fact that sunlight is simply a matter-bred expression, an outburst of interrupted energy, and that the modification this energy undergoes makes it visible or sensible to man. what, think you, becomes of the flood of light energy that unceasingly flows from the sun? for ages, for an eternity, it has bathed this earth and seemingly streamed into space, and space it would seem must have long since have been filled with it, if, as men believe, space contains energy of any description. man may say the earth casts the amount intercepted by it back into space, and yet does not your science teach that the great bulk of the earth is an absorber, and a poor radiator of light and heat? what think you, i repeat, becomes of the torrent of light and heat and other forces that radiate from the sun, the flood that strikes the earth? it disappears, and, in the economy of nature, is not replaced by any known force or any known motion of matter. think you that earth substance really presents an obstacle to the passage of the sun's energy? is it not probable that most of this light producing essence, as a subtle fluid, passes through the surface of the earth and into its interior, as light does through space, and returns thence to the sun again, in a condition not discernible by man?" he grasped my arm and squeezed it as though to emphasize the words to follow. "you have used the term sunshine freely; tell me what is sunshine? ah! you do not reply; well, what evidence have you to show that sunshine (heat and light) is not earth-bred, a condition that exists locally only, the result of contact between matter and some unknown force expression? what reason have you for accepting that, to other forms unknown and yet transparent to this energy, your sunshine may not be as intangible as the ether of space is to man? what reason have you to believe that a force torrent is not circulating to and from the sun and earth, inappreciable to man, excepting the mere trace of this force which, modified by contact action with matter appears as heat, light, and other force expressions? how can i, if this is true, in consideration of your ignorance, enter into details explanatory of the action that takes place between matter and a portion of this force, whereby in the earth, first at the surface, darkness is produced, and then deeper down an earth light that man can perceive by the sense of sight, as you now realize? i will only say that this luminous appearance about us is produced by a natural law, whereby the flood of energy, invisible to man, a something clothed now under the name of darkness, after streaming into the crust substance of the earth, is at this depth, revivified, and then is made apparent to mortal eye, to be modified again as it emerges from the opposite earth crust, but not annihilated. for my vision, however, this central light is not a necessity; my physical and mental development is such that the energy of darkness is communicable; i can respond to its touches on my nerves, and hence i can guide you in this dark cavern. i am all eye." "ah!" i exclaimed, "that reminds me of a remark made by my former guide who, referring to the instinct of animals, spoke of that as a natural power undeveloped in man. is it true that by mental cultivation a new sense can be evolved whereby darkness may become as light?" "yes; that which you call light is a form of sensible energy to which the faculties of animals who live on the surface of the earth have become adapted, through their organs of sight. the sun's energy is modified when it strikes the surface of the earth; part is reflected, but most of it passes onward into the earth's substance, in an altered or disturbed condition. animal organisms within the earth must possess a peculiar development to utilize it under its new form, but such a sense is really possessed in a degree by some creatures known to men. there is consciousness behind consciousness; there are grades and depths of consciousness. earth worms, and some fishes and reptiles in underground streams (lower organizations, men call them) do not use the organ of sight, but recognize objects, seek their food, and flee from their enemies." "they have no eyes," i exclaimed, forgetting that i spoke to an eyeless being; "how can they see?" "you should reflect that man can not offer a satisfactory explanation of the fact that he can see with his eyes. in one respect, these so-called lower creatures are higher in the scale of life than man is, for they see (appreciate) without eyes. the surfaces of their bodies really are sources of perception, and seats of consciousness. man must yet learn to see with his skin, taste with his fingers, and hear with the surface of his body. the dissected nerve, or the pupil of man's eye, offers to the physiologist no explanation of its intrinsic power. is not man unfortunate in having to risk so much on so frail an organ? the physiologist can not tell why or how the nerve of the tongue can distinguish between bitter and sweet, or convey any impression of taste, or why the nerve of the ear communicates sound, or the nerve of the eye communicates the impression of sight. there is an impassable barrier behind all forms of nerve impressions, that neither the microscope nor other methods of investigation can help the reasoning senses of man to remove. the void that separates the pulp of the material nerve from consciousness is broader than the solar universe, for even from the most distant known star we can imagine the never-ending flight of a ray of light, that has once started on its travels into space. can any man outline the bridge that connects the intellect with nerve or brain, mind, or with any form of matter? the fact that the surface of the bodies of some animals is capable of performing the same functions for these animals that the eye of man performs for him, is not more mysterious than is the function of that eye itself. the term darkness is an expression used to denote the fact that to the brain which governs the eye of man, what man calls the absence of light, is unrecognizable. if men were more magnanimous and less egotistical, they would open their minds to the fact that some animals really possess certain senses that are better developed than they are in man. the teachers of men too often tell the little they know and neglect the great unseen. the cat tribe, some night birds, and many reptiles can see better in darkness than in daylight. let man compare with the nerve expanse of his own eye that of the highly developed eye of any such creature, and he will understand that the difference is one of brain or intellect, and not altogether one of optical vision surface. when men are able to explain how light can affect the nerves of their own eyes and produce such an effect on distant brain tissues as to bring to his senses objects that he is not touching, he may be able to explain how the energy in darkness can affect the nerve of the eye in the owl and impress vision on the brain of that creature. should not man's inferior sense of light lead him to question if, instead of deficient visual power, there be not a deficiency of the brain capacity of man? instead of accepting that the eye of man is incapable of receiving the impression of night energy, and making no endeavor to improve himself in the direction of his imperfection, man should reflect whether or not his brain may, by proper cultivation or artificial stimulus, be yet developed so as to receive yet deeper nerve impressions, thereby changing darkness into daylight. until man can explain the modus operandi of the senses he now possesses, he can not consistently question the existence of a different sight power in other beings, and unquestioned existing conditions should lead him to hope for a yet higher development in himself." "this dissertation is interesting, very," i said. "although inclined toward agnosticism, my ideas of a possible future in consciousness that lies before mankind are broadened. i therefore accept your reasoning, perhaps because i can not refute it, neither do i wish to do so. and now i ask again, can not you explain to me how darkness, as deep as that of midnight, has been revivified so as to bring this great cavern to my view?" "that may be made plain at a future time," he answered; "let us proceed with our journey." we passed through a dry, well ventilated apartment. stalactite formations still existed, indicative of former periods of water drippings, but as we journeyed onward i saw no evidence of present percolations, and the developing and erosive agencies that had worked in ages past must long ago have been suspended. the floor was of solid stone, entirely free from loose earth and fallen rocky fragments. it was smooth upon the surface, but generally disposed in gentle undulations. the peculiar, soft, radiant light to which my guide referred as "vitalized darkness" or "revivified sunshine," pervaded all the space about me, but i could not by its agency distinguish the sides of the vast cavern. the brightness was of a species that while it brought into distinctness objects that were near at hand, lost its unfolding power or vigor a short distance beyond. i would compare the effect to that of a bright light shining through a dense fog, were it not that the medium about us was transparent--not milky. the light shrunk into nothingness. it passed from existence behind and about me as if it were annihilated, without wasting away in the opalescent appearance once familiar as that of a spreading fog. moreover, it seemed to detail such objects as were within the compass of a certain area close about me, but to lose in intensity beyond. the buttons on my coat appeared as distinct as they ever did when i stood in the sunlight, and fully one-half larger than i formerly knew them to be. the corrugations on the palms of my hands stood out in bold serpentine relief that i observed clearly when i held my hands near my eye, my fingers appeared clumsy, and all parts of my person were magnified in proportion. the region at the limits of my range of perception reminded me of nothingness, but not of darkness. a circle of obliteration defined the border of the luminous belt which advanced as we proceeded, and closed in behind us. this line, or rather zone of demarkation, that separated the seen from the unseen, appeared to be about two hundred feet away, but it might have been more or less, as i had no method of measuring distances. [illustration: "i was in a forest of colossal fungi."] chapter xvii. the fungus forest.--enchantment. along the chamber through which we now passed i saw by the mellow light great pillars, capped with umbrella-like covers, some of them reminding me of the common toadstool of upper earth, on a magnificent scale. instead, however, of the gray or somber shades to which i had been accustomed, these objects were of various hues and combined the brilliancy of the primary prismatic colors, with the purity of clean snow. now they would stand solitary, like gigantic sentinels; again they would be arranged in rows, the alignment as true as if established by the hair of a transit, forming columnar avenues, and in other situations they were wedged together so as to produce masses, acres in extent, in which the stems became hexagonal by compression. the columnar stems, larger than my body, were often spiral; again they were marked with diamond-shaped figures, or other regular geometrical forms in relief, beautifully exact, drawn as by a master's hand in rich and delicately blended colors, on pillars of pure alabaster. not a few of the stems showed deep crimson, blue, or green, together with other rich colors combined; over which, as delicate as the rarest of lace, would be thrown, in white, an enamel-like intricate tracery, far surpassing in beauty of execution the most exquisite needle-work i had ever seen. there could be no doubt that i was in a forest of colossal fungi, the species of which are more numerous than those of upper earth cryptomatic vegetation. the expanded heads of these great thallogens were as varied as the stems i have described, and more so. far above our path they spread like beautiful umbrellas, decorated as if by masters from whom the great painters of upper earth might humbly learn the art of mixing colors. their under surfaces were of many different designs, and were of as many shapes as it is conceivable could be made of combinations of the circle and hyperbola. stately and picturesque, silent and immovable as the sphinx, they studded the great cavern singly or in groups, reminding me of a grown child's wild imagination of fairy land. i stopped beside a group that was of unusual conspicuity and gazed in admiration on the huge and yet graceful, beautiful spectacle. i placed my hand on the stem of one plant, and found it soft and impressible; but instead of being moist, cold, and clammy as the repulsive toadstool of upper earth, i discovered, to my surprise, that it was pleasantly warm, and soft as velvet. "smell your hand," said my guide. i did so, and breathed in an aroma like that of fresh strawberries. my guide observed (i had learned to judge of his emotions by his facial expressions) my surprised countenance with indifference. "try the next one," he said. this being of a different species, when rubbed by my hand exhaled the odor of the pineapple. "extraordinary," i mused. "not at all. should productions of surface earth have a monopoly of nature's methods, all the flavors, all the perfumes? you may with equal consistency express astonishment at the odors of the fruits of upper earth if you do so at the fragrance of these vegetables, for they are also created of odorless elements." "but toadstools are foul structures of low organization.[ ] they are neither animals nor true vegetables, but occupy a station below that of plants proper," i said. [ ] the fungus polyporus graveolens was neglected by the guide. this fungus exhales a delicate odor, and is used in kentucky to perfume a room. being quite large, it is employed to hold a door open, thus being useful as well as fragrant.--j. u. l. "you are acquainted with this order of vegetation under the most unfavorable conditions; out of their native elements these plants degenerate and become then abnormal, often evolving into the poisonous earth fungi known to your woods and fields. here they grow to perfection. this is their chosen habitat. they absorb from a pure atmosphere the combined foods of plants and animals, and during their existence meet no scorching sunrise. they flourish in a region of perfect tranquillity, and without a tremor, without experiencing the change of a fraction of a degree in temperature, exist for ages. many of these specimens are probably thousands of years old, and are still growing; why should they ever die? they have never been disturbed by a breath of moving air, and, balanced exactly on their succulent, pedestal-like stems, surrounded by an atmosphere of dead nitrogen, vapor, and other gases, with their roots imbedded in carbonates and minerals, they have food at command, nutrition inexhaustible." "still i do not see why they grow to such mammoth proportions." "plants adapt themselves to surrounding conditions," he remarked. "the oak tree in its proper latitude is tall and stately; trace it toward the arctic circle, and it becomes knotted, gnarled, rheumatic, and dwindles to a shrub. the castor plant in the tropics is twenty or thirty feet in height, in the temperate zone it is an herbaceous plant, farther north it has no existence. indian corn in kentucky is luxuriant, tall, and graceful, and each stalk is supplied with roots to the second and third joint, while in the northland it scarcely reaches to the shoulder of a man, and, in order to escape the early northern frost, arrives at maturity before the more southern variety begins to tassel. the common jimson weed (datura stramonium) planted in early spring, in rich soil, grows luxuriantly, covers a broad expanse and bears an abundance of fruit; planted in midsummer it blossoms when but a few inches in height, and between two terminal leaves hastens to produce a single capsule on the apex of the short stem, in order to ripen its seed before the frost appears. these and other familiar examples might be cited concerning the difference some species of vegetation of your former lands undergo under climatic conditions less marked than between those that govern the growth of fungi here and on surface earth. such specimens of fungi as grow in your former home have escaped from these underground regions, and are as much out of place as are the tropical plants transplanted to the edge of eternal snow. indeed, more so, for on the earth the ordinary fungus, as a rule, germinates after sunset, and often dies when the sun rises, while here they may grow in peace eternally. these meandering caverns comprise thousands of miles of surface covered by these growths which shall yet fulfill a grand purpose in the economy of nature, for they are destined to feed tramping multitudes when the day appears in which the nations of men will desert the surface of the earth and pass as a single people through these caverns on their way to the immaculate existence to be found in the inner sphere." "i can not disprove your statement," i again repeated; "neither do i accept it. however, it still seems to me unnatural to find such delicious flavors and delicate odors connected with objects associated in memory with things insipid, or so disagreeable as toadstools and the rank forest fungi which i abhorred on earth." chapter xviii. the food of man. "this leads me to remark," answered the eyeless seer, "that you speak without due consideration of previous experience. you are, or should be, aware of other and as marked differences in food products of upper earth, induced by climate, soil and cultivation. the potato which, next to wheat, rice, or corn, you know supplies nations of men with starchy food, originated as a wild weed in south america and mexico, where it yet exists as a small, watery, marble-like tuber, and its nearest kindred, botanically, is still poisonous. the luscious apple reached its present excellence by slow stages from knotty, wild, astringent fruit, to which it again returns when escaped from cultivation. the cucumber is a near cousin of the griping, medicinal cathartic bitter-apple, or colocynth, and occasionally partakes yet of the properties that result from that unfortunate alliance, as too often exemplified to persons who do not peel it deep enough to remove the bitter, cathartic principle that exists near the surface. oranges, in their wild condition, are bitter, and are used principally as medicinal agents. asparagus was once a weed, native to the salty edges of the sea, and as this weed has become a food, so it is possible for other wild weeds yet to do. buckwheat is a weed proper, and not a cereal, and birds have learned that the seeds of many other weeds are even preferable to wheat. the wild parsnip is a poison, and the parsnip of cultivation relapses quickly into its natural condition if allowed to escape and roam again. the root of the tapioca plant contains a volatile poison, and is deadly; but when that same root is properly prepared, it becomes the wholesome food, tapioca. the nut of the african anacardium (cachew nut) contains a nourishing kernel that is eaten as food by the natives, and yet a drop of the juice of the oily shell placed on the skin will blister and produce terrible inflammations; only those expert in the removal of the kernel dare partake of the food. the berry of the berberis vulgaris is a pleasant acid fruit; the bough that bears it is intensely bitter. such examples might be multiplied indefinitely, but i have cited enough to illustrate the fact that neither the difference in size and structure of the species in the mushroom forest through which we are passing, nor the conditions of these bodies, as compared with those you formerly knew, need excite your astonishment. cultivate a potato in your former home so that the growing tuber is exposed to sunshine, and it becomes green and acrid, and strongly virulent. cultivate the spores of the intra-earth fungi about us, on the face of the earth, and although now all parts of the plants are edible, the species will degenerate, and may even become poisonous. they lose their flavor under such unfavorable conditions, and although some species still retain vitality enough to resist poisonous degeneration, they dwindle in size, and adapt themselves to new and unnatural conditions. they have all degenerated. here they live on water, pure nitrogen and its modifications, grasping with their roots the carbon of the disintegrated limestone, affiliating these substances, and evolving from these bodies rich and delicate flavors, far superior to the flavor of earth surface foods. on the surface of the earth, after they become abnormal, they live only on dead and devitalized organic matter, having lost the power of assimilating elementary matter. they then partake of the nature of animals, breathe oxygen and exhale carbonic acid, as animals do, being the reverse of other plant existences. here they breathe oxygen, nitrogen, and the vapor of water; but exhale some of the carbon in combination with hydrogen, thus evolving these delicate ethereal essences instead of the poisonous gas, carbonic acid. their substance is here made up of all the elements necessary for the support of animal life; nitrogen to make muscle, carbon and hydrogen for fat, lime for bone. this fungoid forest could feed a multitude. it is probable that in the time to come when man deserts the bleak earth surface, as he will some day be forced to do, as has been the case in frozen planets that are not now inhabited on the outer crust; nations will march through these spaces on their way from the dreary outside earth to the delights of the salubrious inner sphere. here then, when that day of necessity appears, as it surely will come under inflexible climatic changes that will control the destiny of outer earth life, these constantly increasing stores adapted to nourish humanity, will be found accumulated and ready for food. you have already eaten of them, for the variety of food with which i supplied you has been selected from different portions of these nourishing products which, flavored and salted, ready for use as food, stand intermediate between animal and vegetable, supplying the place of both." my instructor placed both hands on my shoulders, and in silence i stood gazing intently into his face. then, in a smooth, captivating, entrancing manner, he continued: "can you not see that food is not matter? the material part of bread is carbon, water, gas, and earth; the material part of fat is charcoal and gas; the material part of flesh is water and gas; the material part of fruits is mostly water with a little charcoal and gas.[ ] the material constituents of all foods are plentiful, they abound everywhere, and yet amid the unlimited, unorganized materials that go to form foods man would starve. [ ] by the term gas, it is evident that hydrogen and nitrogen were designated, and yet, since the instructor insists that other gases form part of the atmosphere, so he may consistently imply that unknown gases are parts of food.--j. u. l. "give a healthy man a diet of charcoal, water, lime salts, and air; say to him, 'bread contains no other substance, here is bread, the material food of man, live on this food,' and yet the man, if he eat of these, will die with his stomach distended. so with all other foods; give man the unorganized materialistic constituents of food in unlimited amounts, and starvation results. no! matter is not food, but a carrier of food." "what is food?" "sunshine. the grain of wheat is a food by virtue of the sunshine fixed within it. the flesh of animals, the food of living creatures, are simply carriers of sunshine energy. break out the sunshine and you destroy the food, although the material remains. the growing plant locks the sunshine in its cells, and the living animal takes it out again. hence it is that after the sunshine of any food is liberated during the metamorphosis of the tissues of an animal although the material part of the food remains, it is no longer a food, but becomes a poison, and then, if it is not promptly eliminated from the animal, it will destroy the life of the animal. this material becomes then injurious, but it is still material. "the farmer plants a seed in the soil, the sunshine sprouts it, nourishes the growing plant, and during the season locks itself to and within its tissues, binding the otherwise dead materials of that tissue together into an organized structure. animals eat these structures, break them from higher to lower compounds, and in doing so live on the stored up sunshine and then excrete the worthless material side of the food. the farmer spreads these excluded substances over the earth again to once more take up the sunshine in the coming plant organization, but not until it does once more lock in its cells the energy of sunshine can it be a food for that animal." "is manure a food?" he abruptly asked. "no." "is not manure matter?" "yes." "may it not become a food again, as the part of another plant, when another season passes?" "yes." "in what else than energy (sunshine) does it differ from food?" "water is a necessity," i said. "and locked in each molecule of water there is a mine of sunshine. liberate suddenly the sun energy from the gases of the ocean held in subjection thereby, and the earth would disappear in an explosion that would reverberate throughout the universe. the water that you truly claim to be necessary to the life of man, is itself water by the grace of this same sun, for without its heat water would be ice, dry as dust. 'tis the sun that gives life and motion to creatures animate and substances inanimate; he who doubts distrusts his creator. food and drink are only carriers of bits of assimilable sunshine. when the fire worshipers kneeled to their god, the sun, they worshiped the great food reservoir of man. when they drew the quivering entrails from the body of a sacrificed victim they gave back to their god a spark of sunshine--it was due sooner or later. they builded well in thus recognizing the source of all life, and yet they acted badly, for their god asked no premature sacrifice, the inevitable must soon occur, and as all organic life comes from that sun-god, so back to that creator the sun-spark must fly." "but they are heathen; there is a god beyond their narrow conception of god." "as there is also a god in the beyond, past your idea of god. perhaps to beings of higher mentalities, we may be heathen; but even if this is so, duty demands that we revere the god within our intellectual sphere. let us not digress further; the subject now is food, not the supreme creator, and i say to you the food of man and the organic life of man is sunshine." he ceased, and i reflected upon his words. all he had said seemed so consistent that i could not deny its plausibility, and yet it still appeared altogether unlikely as viewed in the light of my previous earth knowledge. i did not quite comprehend all the semi-scientific expressions, but was at least certain that i could neither disprove nor verify his propositions. my thoughts wandered aimlessly, and i found myself questioning whether man could be prevailed upon to live contentedly in situations such as i was now passing through. in company with my learned and philosophical but fantastically created guardian and monitor, i moved on. chapter xix. the cry from a distance.--i rebel against continuing the journey. as we paced along, meditating, i became more sensibly impressed with the fact that our progress was down a rapid declination. the saline incrustations, fungi and stalagmites, rapidly changed in appearance, an endless variety of stony figures and vegetable cryptogams recurring successively before my eyes. they bore the shape of trees, shrubs, or animals, fixed and silent as statues: at least in my distorted condition of mind i could make out resemblances to many such familiar objects; the floor of the cavern became increasingly steeper, as was shown by the stalactites, which, hanging here and there from the invisible ceiling, made a decided angle with the floor, corresponding with a similar angle of the stalagmites below. like an accompanying and encircling halo the ever present earth-light enveloped us, opening in front as we advanced, and vanishing in the rear. the sound of our footsteps gave back a peculiar, indescribable hollow echo, and our voices sounded ghost-like and unearthly, as if their origin was outside of our bodies, and at a distance. the peculiar resonance reminded me of noises reverberating in an empty cask or cistern. i was oppressed by an indescribable feeling of mystery and awe that grew deep and intense, until at last i could no longer bear the mental strain. "hold, hold," i shouted, or tried to shout, and stopped suddenly, for although i had cried aloud, no sound escaped my lips. then from a distance--could i believe my senses?--from a distance as an echo, the cry came back in the tones of my own voice, "hold, hold." "speak lower," said my guide, "speak very low, for now an effort such as you have made projects your voice far outside your body; the greater the exertion the farther away it appears." i grasped him by the arm and said slowly, determinedly, and in a suppressed tone: "i have come far enough into the secret caverns of the earth, without knowing our destination; acquaint me now with the object of this mysterious journey, i demand, and at once relieve this sense of uncertainty; otherwise i shall go no farther." [illustration: "an endless variety of stony figures."] "you are to proceed to the sphere of rest with me," he replied, "and in safety. beyond that an unknown country lies, into which i have never ventured." "you speak in enigmas; what is this sphere of rest? where is it?" "your eyes have never seen anything similar; human philosophy has no conception of it, and i can not describe it," he said. "it is located in the body of the earth, and we will meet it about one thousand miles beyond the north pole." "but i am in kentucky," i replied; "do you think that i propose to walk to the north pole, man--if man you be; that unreached goal is thousands of miles away." "true," he answered, "as you measure distance on the surface of the earth, and you could not walk it in years of time; but you are now twenty-five miles below the surface, and you must be aware that instead of becoming more weary as we proceed, you are now and have for some time been gaining strength. i would also call to your attention that you neither hunger nor thirst." "proceed," i said, "'tis useless to rebel; i am wholly in your power," and we resumed our journey, and rapidly went forward amid silences that were to me painful beyond description. we abruptly entered a cavern of crystal, every portion of which was of sparkling brilliancy, and as white as snow. the stalactites, stalagmites and fungi disappeared. i picked up a fragment of the bright material, tasted it, and found that it resembled pure salt. monstrous, cubical crystals, a foot or more in diameter, stood out in bold relief, accumulations of them, as conglomerated masses, banked up here and there, making parts of great columnar cliffs, while in other formations the crystals were small, resembling in the aggregate masses of white sandstone. "is not this salt?" i asked. "yes; we are now in the dried bed of an underground lake." "dried bed?" i exclaimed; "a body of water sealed in the earth can not evaporate." "it has not evaporated; at some remote period the water has been abstracted from the salt, and probably has escaped upon the surface of the earth as a fresh water spring." "you contradict all laws of hydrostatics, as i understand that subject," i replied, "when you speak of abstracting water from a dissolved substance that is part of a liquid, and thus leaving the solids." "nevertheless this is a constant act of nature," said he; "how else can you rationally account for the great salt beds and other deposits of saline materials that exist hermetically sealed beneath the earth's surface?" [illustration: "monstrous cubical crystals."] "i will confess that i have not given the subject much thought; i simply accept the usual explanation to the effect that salty seas have lost their water by evaporation, and afterward the salt formations, by some convulsions of nature, have been covered with earth, perhaps sinking by earthquake convulsions bodily into the earth." "these explanations are examples of some of the erroneous views of scientific writers," he replied; "they are true only to a limited extent. the great beds of salt, deep in the earth, are usually accumulations left there by water that is drawn from brine lakes, from which the liberated water often escaped as pure spring water at the surface of the earth. it does not escape by evaporation, at least not until it reaches the earth's surface." interlude--the story interrupted. chapter xx. my unbidden guest proves his statement and refutes my philosophy. let the reader who has followed this strange story which i am directed to title "the end of earth," and who, in imagination, has traversed the cavernous passages of the underworld and listened to the conversation of those two personages who journeyed towards the secrets of the beyond, return now to upper earth, and once more enter my secluded lodgings, the home of llewellen drury, him who listened to the aged guest and who claims your present attention. remember that i relate a story within a story. that importunate guest of mine, of the glittering knife and the silvery hair, like another ancient mariner, had constrained me to listen to his narrative, as he read it aloud to me from the manuscript. i patiently heard chapter after chapter, generally with pleasure, often with surprise, sometimes with incredulity, or downright dissent. much of the narrative, i must say,--yes, most of it, appeared possible, if not probable, as taken in its connected sequence. the scientific sections were not uninteresting; the marvels of the fungus groves, the properties of the inner light, i was not disinclined to accept as true to natural laws; but when the-man-who-did-it came to tell of the intra-earth salt deposits, and to explain the cause of the disappearance of lakes that formerly existed underground, and their simultaneous replacement by beds of salt, my credulity was overstrained. "permit me to interrupt your narrative," i remarked, and then in response to my request the venerable guest laid down his paper. "well?" he said, interrogatively. "i do not believe that last statement concerning the salt lake, and, to speak plainly, i would not have accepted it as you did, even had i been in your situation." "to what do you allude?" he asked. "the physical abstraction of water from the salt of a solution of salt; i do not believe it possible unless by evaporation of the water." "you seem to accept as conclusive the statements of men who have never investigated beneath the surface in these directions, and you question the evidence of a man who has seen the phenomenon. i presume you accept the prevailing notions about salt beds, as you do the assertion that liquids seek a common level, which your scientific authorities also teach as a law of nature?" "yes; i do believe that liquids seek a common level, and i am willing to credit your other improbable statements if you can demonstrate the principle of liquid equilibrium to be untrue." "then," said he, "to-morrow evening i will show you that fluids seek different levels, and also explain to you how liquids may leave the solids they hold in solution without evaporating from them." he arose and abruptly departed. it was near morning, and yet i sat in my room alone pondering the story of my unique guest until i slept to dream of caverns and seances until daylight, when i was awakened by their vividness. the fire was out, the room was cold, and, shivering in nervous exhaustion, i crept into bed to sleep and dream again of horrible things i can not describe, but which made me shudder in affright at their recollection. late in the day i awoke. on the following evening my persevering teacher appeared punctually, and displayed a few glass tubes and some blotting or bibulous paper. "i will first show you that liquids may change their levels in opposition to the accepted laws of men, not contrary to nature's laws; however, let me lead to the experiments by a statement of facts, that, if you question, you can investigate at any time. if two vessels of water be connected by a channel from the bottom of each, the water surfaces will come to a common level." he selected a curved glass tube, and poured water into it. the water assumed the position shown in figure . [illustration: fig. .--a a, water in tube seeks a level.] "you have not shown me anything new," i said; "my text-books taught me this." "true, i have but exhibited that which is the foundation of your philosophy regarding the surface of liquids. let me proceed: "if we pour a solution of common salt into such a u tube, as i do now, you perceive that it also rises to the same level in both ends." "of course it does." "do not interrupt me. into one arm of the tube containing the brine i now carefully pour pure water. you observe that the surfaces do not seek the same level." (figure .) [illustration: fig. .--a, surface of water. b, surface of brine.] "certainly not," i said; "the weight of the liquid in each arm is the same, however; the columns balance each other." "exactly; and on this assumption you base your assertion that connected liquids of the same gravity must always seek a common level, but you see from this test that if two liquids of different gravities be connected from beneath, the surface of the lighter one will assume a higher level than the surface of the heavier." "agreed; however tortuous the channel that connects them, such must be the case." "is it not supposable," said he, "that there might be two pockets in the earth, one containing salt water, the other fresh water, which, if joined together, might be represented by such a figure as this, wherein the water surface would be raised above that of the brine?" and he drew upon the paper the accompanying diagram. (figure .) "yes," i admitted; "providing, of course, there was an equal pressure of air on the surface of each." [illustration: fig. .--b, surface of brine. w, surface of water. s, sand strata connecting them.] "now i will draw a figure in which one pocket is above the other, and ask you to imagine that in the lower pocket we have pure water, in the upper pocket brine (figure ); can you bring any theory of your law to bear upon these liquids so that by connecting them together the water will rise and run into the brine?" [illustration: fig. .--b, brine. w, water. s, sand stratum. (the difference in altitude is somewhat exaggerated to make the phenomenon clear. a syphon may result under such circumstances.--l.)] "no," i replied; "connect them, and then the brine will flow into the water." "upon the contrary," he said; "connect them, as innumerable cavities in the earth are joined, and the water will flow into the brine." "the assertion is opposed to applied philosophy and common sense," i said. "where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise, you know to be a maxim with mortals," he replied; "but i must pardon you; your dogmatic education narrows your judgment. i now will prove you in error." he took from his pocket two slender glass tubes, about an eighth of an inch in bore and four inches in length, each closed at one end, and stood them in a perforated cork that he placed upon the table. into one tube he poured water, and then dissolving some salt in a cup, poured brine into the other, filling both nearly to the top (figure ). next he produced a short curved glass tube, to each end of which was attached a strip of flexible rubber tubing. then, from a piece of blotting paper such as is used to blot ink, he cut a narrow strip and passed it through the arrangement, forming the apparatus represented by figure . [illustration: fig. . a a, glass tubes. f, brine surface. e, water surface.] [illustration: fig. . b, curved glass tube. c c, rubber tubes. d d d, bibulous paper.] then he inserted the two tubes (figure ) into the rubber, the extremities of the paper being submerged in the liquids, producing a combination that rested upright in the cork as shown by figure . the surfaces of both liquids were at once lowered by reason of the suction of the bibulous paper, the water decreasing most rapidly, and soon the creeping liquids met by absorption in the paper, the point of contact, as the liquids met, being plainly discernible. now the old man gently slid the tubes upon each other, raising one a little, so as to bring the surfaces of the two liquids exactly on a plane; he then marked the glass at the surface of each with a pen. "observe the result," he remarked as he replaced the tubes in the cork with their liquid surfaces on a line. together we sat and watched, and soon it became apparent that the surface of the water had decreased in height as compared with that of the brine. by fixing my gaze on the ink mark on the glass i also observed that the brine in the opposing tube was rising. "i will call to-morrow evening," he said, "and we shall then discover which is true, man's theory or nature's practice." within a short time enough of the water in the tube had been transferred to the brine to raise its surface considerably above its former level, the surface of the water being lowered to a greater degree. (figure .) i was discomfited at the result, and upon his appearance next evening peevishly said to the experimenter: "i do not know that this is fair." "have i not demonstrated that, by properly connecting the liquids, the lighter flows into the heavier, and raises itself above the former surface?" "yes; but there is no porous paper in the earth." "true; i used this medium because it was convenient. there are, however, vast subterranean beds of porous materials, stone, sand, clay, various other earths, many of which will answer the same purpose. by perfectly natural laws, on a large scale, such molecular transfer of liquids is constantly taking place within the earth, and in these phenomena the law of gravitation seems ignored, and the rule which man believes from narrow experience, governs the flow of liquids, is reversed. the arched porous medium always transfers the lighter liquid into the heavier one until its surface is raised considerably above that of the light one. in the same way you can demonstrate that alcohol passes into water, sulphuric ether into alcohol, and other miscible light liquids into those heavier." [illustration: fig. . a a, glass tubes. b, curved glass tube. c c, rubber tubes. d, bibulous paper. e, water surface. f, brine surface.] "i have seen you exemplify the statement on a small scale, with water and brine, and can not question but that it is true on a large one," i replied. "so you admit that the assertion governing the surfaces of liquids is true only when the liquids are connected from beneath. in other words, your thought is one-sided, as science thought often is." "yes." [illustration: fig. . e, water surface. f, brine surface.] "now as to the beds of salt deep within the earth. you are also mistaken concerning their origin. the water of the ocean that runs through an open channel from the one side may flow into an underground lake, that by means of the contact action (suction) of the overlying and surrounding strata is being continually emptied of its water, but not its salt. thus by absorption of water the brine of the lake becomes in time saturated, starting crystallization regularly over the floor and sides of the basin. eventually the entire cavity is filled with salt, and a solid mass of rock salt remains. if, however, before the lake becomes solid, the brine supply is shut off by some natural cause as by salt crystals closing the passage thereto, the underground lake is at last drained of its water, the salt crystallizing over the bottom, and upon the cliffs, leaving great crevices through the saline deposits, as chances to have been the case with the salt formations through which i passed with my guide, and have recently described to you." "even now i have my doubts as to the correctness of your explanations, especially concerning the liquid surfaces." "they are facts, however; liquids capable of being mixed, if connected by porous arches (bibulous paper is convenient for illustrating by experiment) reverse the rule men have accepted to explain the phenomena of liquid equilibrium, for i repeat, the lighter one rushes into that which is heavier, and the surface of the heavier liquid rises. you can try the experiment with alcohol and water, taking precautions to prevent evaporation, or you can vary the experiment with solutions of various salts of different densities; the greater the difference in gravity between the two liquids, the more rapid will be the flow of the lighter one into the heavier, and after equilibrium, the greater will be the contrast in the final height of the resultant liquid surfaces." "men will yet explain this effect by natural laws," i said. "yes," he answered; "when they learn the facts; and they will then be able to solve certain phenomena connected with diffusion processes that they can not now understand. did i not tell you that after the fact had been made plain it was easy to see how columbus stood the egg on its end? what i have demonstrated by experiment is perhaps no new principle in hydrostatics. but i have applied it in a natural manner to the explanation of obscure natural phenomena, that men now seek unreasonable methods to explain." "you may proceed with your narrative. i accept that when certain liquids are connected, as you have shown, by means of porous substances, one will pass into the other, and the surface of the lighter liquid in this case will assume a position below that of the heavier." "you must also accept," said he, "that when solutions of salt are subjected to earth attraction, under proper conditions, the solids may by capillary attraction be left behind, and pure water finally pass through the porous medium. were it not for this law, the only natural surface spring water on earth would be brine, for the superficial crust of the earth is filled with saline solutions. all the spring-fed rivers and lakes would also be salty and fetid with sulphur compounds, for at great depths brine and foul water are always present. even in countries where all the water below the immediate surface of the earth is briny, the running springs, if of capillary origin, are pure and fresh. you may imagine how different this would be were it not for the law i have cited, for the whole earth's crust is permeated by brine and saline waters. did your 'philosophy' never lead you to think of this?" continuing, my guest argued as follows: "do not lakes exist on the earth's surface into which rivers and streams flow, but which have no visible outlet? are not such lakes saline, even though the source of supply is comparatively fresh? has it never occurred to you to question whether capillarity assisted by surface evaporation (not evaporation only as men assert) is not separating the water of these lakes from the saline substances carried into them by the streams, thus producing brine lakes? will not this action after a great length of time result in crystalline deposits over portions of the bottoms of such lakes, and ultimately produce a salt bed?" "it is possible," i replied. "not only possible, but probable. not only probable, but true. across the intervening brine strata above the salt crystals the surface rivers may flow, indeed, owing to differences in specific gravity the surface of the lake may be comparatively fresh, while in the quiet depths below, beds of salt crystals are forming, and between these extremes may rest strata after strata of saline solutions, decreasing in gravity towards the top." then he took his manuscript, and continued to read in a clear, musical voice, while i sat a more contented listener than i had been previously. i was not only confuted, but convinced. and i recalled the saying of socrates, that no better fortune can happen a man than to be confuted in an error. my unbidden guest continues reading his manuscript. chapter xxi. my weight disappearing. we halted suddenly, for we came unexpectedly to the edge of a precipice, twenty feet at least in depth. "let us jump down," said my guide. "that would be dangerous," i answered; "can not we descend at some point where it is not so deep?" "no; the chasm stretches for miles across our path, and at this point we will meet with the least difficulty; besides, there is no danger. the specific gravity of our bodies is now so little that we could jump twice that distance with impunity." "i can not comprehend you; we are in the flesh, our bodies are possessed of weight, the concussion will be violent." "you reason again from the condition of your former life, and, as usual, are mistaken; there will be little shock, for, as i have said, our bodies are comparatively light now. have you forgotten that your motion is continuously accelerated, and that without perceptible exertion you move rapidly? this is partly because of the loss of weight. your weight would now be only about fifty pounds if tested by a spring balance." i stood incredulous. "you trifle with me; i weigh over one hundred and fifty pounds; how have i lost weight? it is true that i have noticed the ease with which we have recently progressed on our journey, especially the latter part of it, but i attribute this, in part, to the fact that our course is down an incline, and also to the vitalizing power of this cavern air." "this explains part of the matter," he said; "it answered at the time, and i stated a fact; but were it not that you are really consuming a comparatively small amount of energy, you would long before this have been completely exhausted. you have been gaining strength for some hours; have really been growing younger. your wrinkled face has become more smooth, and your voice is again natural. you were prematurely aged by your brothers on the surface of the earth, in order that when you pass the line of gravity, you might be vigorous and enjoying manhood again. had this aging process not been accomplished you would now have become as a child in many respects." [illustration: "i bounded upward fully six feet."] he halted before me. "jump up," he said. i promptly obeyed the unexpected command, and sprung upward with sufficient force to carry me, as i supposed, six inches from the earth; however i bounded upward fully six feet. my look of surprise as i gently alighted, for there was no concussion on my return, seemed lost on my guide, and he quietly said: "if you can leap six feet upward without excessive exertion, or return shock, can not you jump twenty feet down? look!" [illustration: "i fluttered to the earth as a leaf would fall."] and he leaped lightly over the precipice and stood unharmed on the stony floor below. even then i hesitated, observing which, he cried: "hang by your hands from the edge then, and drop." i did so, and the fourteen feet of fall seemed to affect me as though i had become as light as cork. i fluttered to the earth as a leaf would fall, and leaned against the precipice in surprised meditation. "others have been through your experience," he remarked, "and i therefore can overlook your incredulity; but experiences such as you now meet, remove distrust. doing is believing." he smiled benignantly. [illustration: "we leaped over great inequalities."] i pondered, revolving in my mind the fact that persons had in mental abstraction, passed through unusual experiences in ignorance of conditions about them, until their attention had been called to the seen and yet unnoticed surroundings, and they had then beheld the facts plainly. the puzzle picture (see p. ) stares the eye and impresses the retina, but is devoid of character until the hidden form is developed in the mind, and then that form is always prominent to the eye. my remarkably light step, now that my attention had been directed thereto, was constantly in my mind, and i found myself suddenly possessed of the strength of a man, but with the weight of an infant. i raised my feet without an effort; they seemed destitute of weight; i leaped about, tumbled, and rolled over and over on the smooth stone floor without injury. it appeared that i had become the airy similitude of my former self, my material substance having wasted away without a corresponding impairment of strength.i pinched my flesh to be assured that all was not a dream, and then endeavored to convince myself that i was the victim of delirium; but in vain. too sternly my self-existence confronted me as a reality, a cruel reality. a species of intoxication possessed me once more, and i now hoped for the end, whatever it might be. we resumed our journey, and rushed on with increasing rapidity, galloping hand in hand, down, down, ever downward into the illuminated crevice of the earth. the spectral light by which we were aureoled increased in intensity, as by arithmetical progression, and i could now distinguish objects at a considerable distance before us. my spirits rose as if i were under the influence of a potent stimulant; a liveliness that was the opposite of my recent despondency had gained control, and i was again possessed of a delicious mental sensation, to which i can only refer as a most rapturous exhilaration. my guide grasped my hand firmly, and his touch, instead of revolting me as formerly it had done, gave pleasure. we together leaped over great inequalities in the floor, performing these aerial feats almost as easily as a bird flies. indeed, i felt that i possessed the power of flight, for we bounded fearlessly down great declivities and over abysses that were often perpendicular, and many times our height. a very slight muscular exertion was sufficient to carry us rods of distance, and almost tiptoeing we skimmed with ever-increasing speed down the steeps of that unknown declivity. at length my guide held back; we gradually lessened our velocity, and, after a time, rested beside a horizontal substance that lay before us, apparently a sheet of glass, rigid, immovable, immeasurably great, that stretched as a level surface before us, vividly distinct in the brightness of an earth light, that now proved to be superior to sunshine. far as the eye could reach, the glassy barrier to our further progress spread as a crystal mirror in front, and vanishing in the distance, shut off the beyond. [illustration: "far as the eye could reach the glassy barrier spread as a crystal mirror."] interlude.--the story again interrupted. chapter xxii. my unbidden guest departs. once more i must presume to interrupt this narrative, and call back the reader's thoughts from those mysterious caverns through which we have been tracing the rapid footsteps of the man who was abducted, and his uncouth pilot of the lower realms. let us now see and hear what took place in my room, in cincinnati, just after my visitor, known to us as the-man-who-did-it, had finished reading to me, lewellyn drury, the custodian of this manuscript, the curious chapter relating how the underground explorers lost weight as they descended in the hollows of the earth. my french clock struck twelve of its clear silvery notes before the gray-bearded reader finished his stint for the occasion, and folded his manuscript preparatory to placing it within his bosom. "it is past midnight," he said, "and it is time for me to depart; but i will come to you again within a year. "meanwhile, during my absence, search the records, question authorities, and note such objections as rise therefrom concerning the statements i have made. establish or disprove historically, or scientifically, any portion of the life history that i have given, and when i return i will hear what you have to say, and meet your argument. if there is a doubt concerning the authenticity of any part of the history, investigate; but make no mention to others of the details of our meetings." i sat some time in thought, then said: "i decline to concern myself in verifying the historical part of your narrative. the localities you mention may be true to name, and it is possible that you have related a personal history; but i can not perceive that i am interested in either proving or disproving it. i will say, however, that it does not seem probable that at any time a man can disappear from a community, as you claim to have done, and have been the means of creating a commotion in his neighborhood that affected political parties, or even led to an unusual local excitement, outside his immediate circle of acquaintances, for a man is not of sufficient importance unless he is very conspicuous. by your own admission, you were simply a studious mechanic, a credulous believer in alchemistic vagaries, and as i revolve the matter over, i am afraid that you are now trying to impose on my credulity. the story of a forcible abduction, in the manner you related, seems to me incredible, and not worthy of investigation, even had i the inclination to concern myself in your personal affairs. the statements, however, that you make regarding the nature of the crust of the earth, gravitation, light, instinct, and human senses are highly interesting, and even plausible as you artfully present the subjects, i candidly admit, and i shall take some pains to make inquiries concerning the recorded researches of experts who have investigated in that direction." "collect your evidence," said he, "and i shall listen to your views when i return." he opened the door, glided away, and i was alone again. chapter xxiii. i question scientific men.--aristotle's ether. days and weeks passed. when the opportunity presented, i consulted dr. w. b. chapman, the druggist and student of science, regarding the nature of light and earth, who in turn referred me to prof. daniel vaughn. this learned man, in reply to my question concerning gravitation, declared that there was much that men wished to understand in regard to this mighty force, that might yet be explained, but which may never become known to mortal man. "the correlation of forces," said he, "was prominently introduced and considered by a painstaking scientific writer named joule, in several papers that appeared between and , and he was followed by others, who engaged themselves in experimenting and theorizing, and i may add that joule was indeed preceded in such thought by mayer. this department of scientific study just now appears of unusual interest to scientists, and your questions embrace problems connected with some phases of its phenomena. we believe that light, heat, and electricity are mutually convertible, in fact, the evidences recently opened up to us show that such must be the case. these agencies or manifestations are now known to be so related that whenever one disappears others spring into existence. study the beautiful experiments and remarkable investigations of sir william thomson in these directions." "and what of gravitation?" i asked, observing that prof. vaughn neglected to include gravitation among his numerous enumerated forces, and recollecting that the force gravitation was more closely connected with my visitor's story than perhaps were any of the others, excepting the mysterious mid-earth illumination. "of that force we are in greater ignorance than of the others," he replied. "it affects bodies terrestrial and celestial, drawing a material substance, or pressing to the earth; also holds, we believe, the earth and all other bodies in position in the heavens, thus maintaining the equilibrium of the planets. seemingly gravitation is not derived from, or sustained by, an external force, or supply reservoir, but is an intrinsic entity, a characteristic of matter that decreases in intensity at the rate of the square of the increasing distance, as bodies recede from each other, or from the surface of the earth. however, gravitation neither escapes by radiation from bodies nor needs to be replenished, so far as we know, from without. it may be compared to an elastic band, but there is no intermediate tangible substance to influence bodies that are affected by it, and it remains in undying tension, unlike all elastic material substances known, neither losing nor acquiring energy as time passes. unlike cohesion, or chemical attraction, it exerts its influence upon bodies that are out of contact, and have no material connection, and this necessitates a purely fanciful explanation concerning the medium that conducts such influences, bringing into existence the illogical, hypothetical, fifth ether, made conspicuous by aristotle." "what of this ether?" i queried. "it is a necessity in science, but intangible, undemonstrated, unknown, and wholly theoretical. it is accepted as an existing fluid by scientists, because human theory can not conceive of a substance capable of, or explain how a substance can be capable of affecting a separate body unless there is an intermediate medium to convey force impressions. hence to material substances aristotle added (or at least made conspicuous) a speculative ether that, he assumed, pervades all space, and all material bodies as well, in order to account for the passage of heat and light to and from the sun, stars, and planets." "explain further," i requested. "to conceive of such an entity we must imagine a material that is more evanescent than any known gas, even in its most diffused condition. it must combine the solidity of the most perfect conductor of heat (exceeding any known body in this respect to an infinite degree), with the transparency of an absolute vacuum. it must neither create friction by contact with any substance, nor possess attraction for matter; must neither possess weight (and yet carry the force that produces weight), nor respond to the influence of any chemical agent, or exhibit itself to any optical instrument. it must be invisible, and yet carry the force that produces the sensation of sight. it must be of such a nature that it can not, according to our philosophy, affect the corpuscles of earthly substances while permeating them without contact or friction, and yet, as a scientific incongruity, it must act so readily on physical bodies as to convey to the material eye the sensation of sight, and from the sun to creatures on distant planets it must carry the heat force, thus giving rise to the sensation of warmth. through this medium, yet without sensible contact with it, worlds must move, and planetary systems revolve, cutting and piercing it in every direction, without loss of momentum. and yet, as i have said, this ether must be in such close contact as to convey to them the essence that warms the universe, lights the universe, and must supply the attractive bonds that hold the stellar worlds in position. a nothing in itself, so far as man's senses indicate, the ether of space must be denser than iridium, more mobile than any known liquid, and stronger than the finest steel." "i can not conceive of such an entity," i replied. "no; neither can any man, for the theory is irrational, and can not be supported by comparison with laws known to man, but the conception is nevertheless a primary necessity in scientific study. can man, by any rational theory, combine a vacuum and a substance, and create a result that is neither material nor vacuity, neither something nor nothing, and yet an intensified all; being more attenuated than the most perfect of known vacuums, and a conductor better than the densest metal? this we do when we attempt to describe the scientists' all-pervading ether of space, and to account for its influence on matter. this hypothetical ether is, for want of a better theory of causes, as supreme in philosophy to-day as the alkahest of the talented old alchemist van helmont was in former times, a universal spirit that exists in conception, and yet does not exist in perception, and of which modern science knows as little as its speculative promulgator, aristotle, did. we who pride ourselves on our exact science, smile at some of aristotle's statements in other directions, for science has disproved them, and yet necessity forces us to accept this illogical ether speculation, which is, perhaps, the most unreasonable of all theories. did not this greek philosopher also gravely assert that the lion has but one vertebra in his neck; that the breath of man enters the heart; that the back of the head is empty, and that man has but eight ribs?" "aristotle must have been a careless observer," i said. "yes," he answered; "it would seem so, and science, to-day, bases its teachings concerning the passage of all forces from planet to planet, and sun to sun, on dicta such as i have cited, and no more reasonable in applied experiment." "and i have been referred to you as a conscientious scientific teacher," i said; "why do you speak so facetiously?" "i am well enough versed in what we call science, to have no fear of injuring the cause by telling the truth, and you asked a direct question. if your questions carry you farther in the direction of force studies, accept at once, that, of the intrinsic constitution of force itself, nothing is known. heat, light, magnetism, electricity, galvanism (until recently known as imponderable bodies) are now considered as modifications of force; but, in my opinion, the time will come when they will be known as disturbances." "disturbances of what?" "i do not know precisely; but of something that lies behind them all, perhaps creates them all, but yet is in essence unknown to men." "give me a clearer idea of your meaning." "it seems impossible," he replied; "i can not find words in which to express myself; i do not believe that forces, as we know them (imponderable bodies), are as modern physics defines them. i am tempted to say that, in my opinion, forces are disturbance expressions of a something with which we are not acquainted, and yet in which we are submerged and permeated. aristotle's ether perhaps. it seems to me, that, behind all material substances, including forces, there is an unknown spirit, which, by certain influences, may be ruffled into the exhibition of an expression, which exhibition of temper we call a force. from this spirit these force expressions (wavelets or disturbances) arise, and yet they may become again quiescent, and again rest in its absorbing unity. the water from the outlet of a calm lake flows over a gentle decline in ripples, or quiet undulations, over the rapids in musical laughings, over a precipice in thunder tones,--always water, each a different phase, however, to become quiet in another lake (as ripples in this universe may awaken to our perception, to repose again), and still be water." he hesitated. "go on," i said. "so i sometimes have dared to dream that gravitation may be the reservoir that conserves the energy for all mundane forces, and that what we call modifications of force are intermediate conditions, ripples, rapids, or cascades, in gravitation." "continue," i said, eagerly, as he hesitated. he shook his head. chapter xxiv. the soliloquy of prof. daniel vaughn.--"gravitation is the beginning and gravitation is the end: all earthly bodies kneel to gravitation." "please continue, i am intensely interested; i wish that i could give you my reasons for the desire; i can not do so, but i beg you to continue." "i should add," continued vaughn, ignoring my remarks, "that we have established rules to measure the force of gravitation, and have estimated the decrease of attraction as we leave the surfaces of the planets. we have made comparative estimates of the weight of the earth and planets, and have reason to believe that the force expression of gravitation attains a maximum at about one-sixth the distance toward the center of the earth, then decreases, until at the very center of our planet, matter has no weight. this, together with the rule i repeated a few moments ago, is about all we know, or think we know, of gravitation. gravitation is the beginning and gravitation is the end; all earthly bodies kneel to gravitation. i can not imagine a beyond, and yet gravitation," mused the rapt philosopher, "may also be an expression of--" he hesitated again, forgetting me completely, and leaned his shaggy head upon his hands. i realized that his mind was lost in conjecture, and that he was absorbed in the mysteries of the scientific immensity. would he speak again? i could not think of disturbing his reverie, and minutes passed in silence. then he slowly, softly, reverently murmured: "gravitation, gravitation, thou art seemingly the one permanent, ever present earth-bound expression of omnipotence. heat and light come and go, as vapors of water condense into rain and dissolve into vapor to return again to the atmosphere. electricity and magnetism appear and disappear; like summer storms they move in diversified channels, or even turn and fly from contact with some bodies, seemingly forbidden to appear, but thou, gravitation, art omnipresent and omnipotent. thou createst motion, and yet maintainest the equilibrium of all things mundane and celestial. an attempt to imagine a body destitute of thy potency, would be to bankrupt and deaden the material universe. o! gravitation, art thou a voice out of the beyond, and are other forces but echoes--tremulous reverberations that start into life to vibrate for a spell and die in the space caverns of the universe while thou continuest supreme?" [illustration: "soliloquy of prof. daniel vaughn. 'gravitation is the beginning, and gravitation is the end; all earthly bodies kneel to gravitation.'"] his bowed head and rounded shoulders stooped yet lower; he unconsciously brushed his shaggy locks with his hand, and seemed to confer with a familiar being whom others could not see. "a voice from without," he repeated; "from beyond our realm! shall the subtle ears of future scientists catch yet lighter echoes? will the brighter thoughts of more gifted men, under such furtherings as the future may bring, perchance commune with beings who people immensity, distance disappearing before thy ever-reaching spirit? for with thee, who holdest the universe together, space is not space, and there is no word expressing time. art thou a voice that carriest the history of the past from the past unto and into the present, and for which there is no future, all conditions of time being as one to thee, thy self covering all and connecting all together? art thou, gravitation, a voice? if so, there must be a something farther out in those fathomless caverns, beyond mind imaginings, from which thou comest, for how could nothingness have formulated itself into a voice? the suns and universe of suns about us, may be only vacant points in the depths of an all-pervading entity in which even thyself dost exist as a momentary echo, linked to substances ponderous, destined to fade away in the inter-stellar expanse outside, where disturbances disappear, and matter and gravitation together die; where all is pure, quiescent, peaceful and dark. gravitation, gravitation, imperishable gravitation; thou seemingly art the ever-pervading, unalterable, but yet moving spirit of a cosmos of solemn mysteries. art thou now, in unperceived force expressions, speaking to dumb humanity of other universes; of suns and vortices of suns; bringing tidings from the solar planets, or even infinitely distant star mists, the silent unresolved nebulæ, and spreading before earth-bound mortal minds, each instant, fresh tidings from without, that, in ignorance, we can not read? may not beings, perhaps like ourselves but higher in the scale of intelligence, those who people some of the planets about us, even now beckon and try to converse with us through thy subtle, ever-present self? and may not their efforts at communication fail because of our ignorance of a language they can read? are not light and heat, electricity and magnetism plodding, vacillating agents compared with thy steady existence, and is it even further possible?--" his voice had gradually lowered, and now it became inaudible; he was oblivious to my presence, and had gone forth from his own self; he was lost in matters celestial, and abstractedly continued unintelligibly to mutter to himself as, brushing his hair from his forehead, he picked up his well-worn felt hat, and placed it awkwardly on his shaggy head, and then shuffled away without bidding me farewell. the bent form, prematurely shattered by privation; uncouth, unkempt, typical of suffering and neglect, impressed me with the fact that in him man's life essence, the immortal mind, had forgotten the material part of man. the physical half of man, even of his own being, in daniel vaughn's estimation, was an encumbrance unworthy of serious attention, his spirit communed with the pure in nature, and to him science was a study of the great beyond.[ ] [ ] mr. drury can not claim to have recorded verbatim prof. vaughn's remarks, but has endeavored to give the substance. his language was faultless, his word selections beautiful, his soliloquy impressive beyond description. perhaps drury even misstated an idea, or more than one, evolved then by the great mind of that patient man. prof. daniel vaughn was fitted for a scientific throne, a position of the highest honor; but, neglected by man, proud as a king, he bore uncomplainingly privations most bitter, and suffered alone until finally he died from starvation and neglect in the city of his adoption. some persons are ready to cry, "shame! shame!" at wealthy cincinnati; others assert that men could not give to daniel vaughn, and since the first edition of etidorhpa appeared, the undersigned has learned of one vain attempt to serve the interests of this peculiar man. he would not beg, and knowing his capacities, if he could not procure a position in which to earn a living, he preferred to starve. the only bitterness of his nature, it is said, went out against those who, in his opinion, kept from him such employment as returns a livelihood to scientific men; for he well knew his intellect earned for him such a right in cincinnati. will the spirit of that great man, talented daniel vaughn, bear malice against the people of the city in which none who knew him will deny that he perished from cold and privation? commemorated is he not by a bust of bronze that distorts the facts in that the garments are not seedy and unkempt, the figure stooping, the cheek hollow and the eye pitifully expressive of an empty stomach? that bust modestly rests in the public library he loved so well, in which he suffered so uncomplainingly, and starved so patiently. j. u. l. i embraced the first opportunity that presented itself to read the works that prof. vaughn suggested, and sought him more than once to question further. however, he would not commit himself in regard to the possible existence of other forces than those with which we are acquainted, and when i interrogated him as to possibilities in the study of obscure force expressions, he declined to express an opinion concerning the subject. indeed, i fancied that he believed it probable, or at least not impossible, that a closer acquaintance with conditions of matter and energy might be the heirloom of future scientific students. at last i gave up the subject, convinced that all the information i was able to obtain from other persons whom i questioned, and whose answers were prompt and positive, was evolved largely from ignorance and self-conceit, and such information was insufficient to satisfy my understanding, or to command my attention. after hearing vaughn, all other voices sounded empty. i therefore applied myself to my daily tasks, and awaited the promised return of the interesting, though inscrutable being whose subterranean sojourneying was possibly fraught with so much potential value to science and to man. the unbidden guest returns to read his manuscript. continuing his narrative. chapter xxv. the mother of a volcano.--"you can not disprove, and you dare not admit." a year from the evening of the departure of the old man, found me in my room, expecting his presence; and i was not surprised when he opened the door, and seated himself in his accustomed chair. "are you ready to challenge my statements?" he said, taking up the subject as though our conversation had not been interrupted. "no." "do you accept my history?" "no." "you can not disprove, and you dare not admit. is not that your predicament?" he asked. "you have failed in every endeavor to discredit the truth, and your would-be scientists, much as they would like to do so, can not serve you. now we will continue the narrative, and i shall await your next attempt to cast a shadow over the facts." then with his usual pleasant smile, he read from his manuscript a continuation of the intra-earth journey as follows: "be seated," said my eyeless guide, "and i will explain some facts that may prove of interest in connection with the nature of the superficial crust of the earth. this crystal liquid spreading before us is a placid sheet of water, and is the feeder of the volcano, mount epomeo." "can that be a surface of water?" i interrogated. "i find it hard to realize that water can be so immovable. i supposed the substance before us to be a rigid material, like glass, perhaps." "there is no wind to ruffle this aqueous surface,--why should it not be quiescent? this is the only perfectly smooth sheet of water that you have ever seen. it is in absolute rest, and thus appears a rigid level plane." "grant that your explanation is correct," i said, "yet i can not understand how a quiet lake of water can give rise to a convulsion such as the eruption of a volcano." "not only is this possible," he responded, "but water usually causes the exhibition of phenomena known as volcanic action. the island of ischia, in which the volcanic crater epomeo is situated, is connected by a tortuous crevice with the peaceful pool by which we now stand, and at periods, separated by great intervals of time, the lake is partly emptied by a simple natural process, and a part of its water is expelled above the earth's surface in the form of super-heated steam, which escapes through that distant crater." "but i see no evidence of heat or even motion of any kind." "not here," he replied; "in this place there is none. the energy is developed thousands of miles away, but since the phenomena of volcanic action are to be partially explained to you at a future day, i will leave that matter for the present. we shall cross this lake." i observed as we walked along its edge that the shore of the lake was precipitous in places, again formed a gradually descending beach, and the dead silence of the space about us, in connection with the death-like stillness of that rigid mass of water and its surroundings, became increasingly impressive and awe-inspiring. never before had i seen such a perfectly quiet glass-like surface. not a vibration or undulation appeared in any direction. the solidity of steel was exemplified in its steady, apparently inflexible contour, and yet the pure element was so transparent that the bottom of the pool was as clearly defined as the top of the cavern above me. the lights and shades of the familiar lakes of western new york were wanting here, and it suddenly came to my mind that there were surface reflections, but no shadows, and musing on this extraordinary fact, i stood motionless on a jutting cliff absorbed in meditation, abstractedly gazing down into that transparent depth. without sun or moon, without apparent source of light, and yet perfectly illuminated, the lofty caverns seemed cut by that aqueous plane into two sections, one above and one below a transparent, rigid surface line. the dividing line, or horizontal plane, appeared as much a surface of air as a surface of water, and the material above that plane seemed no more nor less a gas, or liquid, than that beneath it. if two limpid, transparent liquids, immiscible, but of different gravities, be poured into the same vessel, the line of demarkation will be as a brilliant mirror, such as i now beheld parting and yet uniting the surfaces of air and water. lost in contemplation, i unconsciously asked the mental question: "where are the shadows?" my guide replied: "you have been accustomed to lakes on the surface of the earth; water that is illuminated from above; now you see by a light that is developed from within and below, as well as from above. there is no outside point of illumination, for the light of this cavern, as you know, is neither transmitted through an overlying atmosphere nor radiated from a luminous center. it is an inherent quality, and as objects above us and within the lake are illuminated alike from all sides, there can be no shadows." musingly, i said: "that which has occurred before in this journey to the unknown country of which i have been advised, seemed mysterious; but each succeeding step discovers to me another novelty that is more mysterious, with unlooked-for phenomena that are more obscure." "this phenomenon is not more of a mystery than is the fact that light radiates from the sun. man can not explain that, and i shall not now attempt to explain this. both conditions are attributes of force, but with this distinction--the crude light and heat of the sun, such as men experience on the surface of the earth, is here refined and softened, and the characteristic glare and harshness of the light that is known to those who live on the earth's surface is absent here. the solar ray, after penetrating the earth's crust, is tempered and refined by agencies which man will yet investigate understandingly, but which he can not now comprehend." [illustration: "we came to a metal boat."] "am i destined to deal with these problems?" "only in part." "are still greater wonders before us?" "if your courage is sufficient to carry you onward, you have yet to enter the portal of the expanse we approach." "lead on, my friend," i cried; "lead on to these undescribed scenes, the occult wonderland that--" he interrupted me almost rudely, and in a serious manner said: "have you not learned that wonder is an exemplification of ignorance? the child wonders at a goblin story, the savage at a trinket, the man of science at an unexplained manifestation of a previously unperceived natural law; each wonders in ignorance, because of ignorance. accept now that all you have seen from the day of your birth on the surface of the earth, to the present, and all that you will meet here are wonderful only because the finite mind of man is confused with fragments of evidence, that, from whatever direction we meet them, spring from an unreachable infinity. we will continue our journey." proceeding farther along the edge of the lake we came to a metallic boat. this my guide picked up as easily as though it were of paper, for be it remembered that gravitation had slackened its hold here. placing it upon the water, he stepped into it, and as directed i seated myself near the stern, my face to the bow, my back to the shore. the guide, directly in front of me, gently and very slowly moved a small lever that rested on a projection before him, and i gazed intently upon him as we sat together in silence. at last i became impatient, and asked him if we would not soon begin our journey. "we have been on our way since we have been seated," he answered. i gazed behind with incredulity: the shore had disappeared, and the diverging wake of the ripples showed that we were rapidly skimming the water. "this is marvelous," i said; "incomprehensible, for without sail or oar, wind or steam, we are fleeing over a lake that has no current." "true, but not marvelous. motion of matter is a result of disturbance of energy connected therewith. is it not scientifically demonstrated, at least in theory, that if the motion of the spirit that causes the magnetic needle to assume its familiar position were really arrested in the substance of the needle, either the metal would fuse and vaporize or (if the forces did not appear in some other form such as heat, electricity, magnetism, or other force) the needle would be hurled onward with great speed?" chapter xxvi. motion from inherent energy.--"lead me deeper into this expanding study." "i partly comprehend that such would be the case," i said. "if a series of knife blades on pivot ends be set in a frame, and turned edgewise to a rapid current of water, the swiftly moving stream flows through this sieve of metallic edges about as easily as if there were no obstructions. slowly turn the blades so as to present their oblique sides to the current, and an immediate pressure is apparent upon the frame that holds them; turn the blades so as to shut up the space, and they will be torn from their sockets, or the entire frame will be shattered into pieces." "i understand; go on." "the ethereal current that generates the magnetic force passes through material bodies with inconceivable rapidity, and the molecules of a few substances only, present to it the least obstruction. material molecules are edgewise in it, and meet no retardation in the subtle flood. this force is a disturbance of space energy that is rushing into the earth in one form, and out of it in another. but your mind is not yet in a condition to grasp the subject, for at best there is no method of explaining to men that which their experimental education has failed to prepare them to receive, and for which first absolutely new ideas, and next words with new meaning, must be formed. now we, (by we i mean those with whom i am connected) have learned to disturb the molecules in matter so as to turn them partly, or entirely, across the path of this magnetic current, and thus interrupt the motion of this ever-present energy. we can retard its velocity without, however, producing either magnetism (as is the case in a bar of steel), electricity, or heat, but motion instead, and thus a portion of this retarded energy springs into its new existence as motion of my boat. it is force changed into movement of matter, for the molecules of the boat, as a mass, must move onward as the force disappears as a current. perhaps you can accept now that instead of light, heat, electricity, magnetism, and gravitation being really modifications of force they are disturbances." "disturbances of what?" "disturbances of motion." "motion of what?" "motion of itself, pure and simple." "i can not comprehend, i can not conceive of motion pure and simple." "i will explain at a future time so that you can comprehend more clearly. other lessons must come first, but never will you see the end. truth is infinite." continuing, he said: "let me ask if there is anything marvelous in this statement. on the earth's surface men arrest the fitful wind, and by so doing divert the energy of its motion into movement of machinery; they induce it to turn mills and propel vessels. this motion of air is a disturbance, mass motion transmitted to the air by heat, heat in turn being a disturbance or interruption of pure motion. when men learn to interrupt this unperceived stream of energy so as to change directly into material motion the spirit that saturates the universe, and that produces force expressions, as it is constantly rushing from earth into space, and from space back again, they will have at command wherever they may be an endless source of power, light, and heat; mass motion, light and heat being convertible. motion lies behind heat, light, and electricity, and produces them, and so long as the earth revolves on its axis, and circles in its orbit, man needs no light and heat from such indirect sources as combustion. men will, however, yet obtain motion of molecules (heat), and material mass motion as well, from earth motion, without the other dangerous intermediate force expressions now deemed necessary in their production." "do you wish me to understand that on all parts of the earth's surface there is a continual expenditure of energy, an ever-ready current, that is really distinct from the light and heat of the sun, and also that the imponderable bodies that we call heat, light, electricity, and magnetism are not substances at all?" "yes," he replied. "and that this imperceptible something--fluid i will say, for want of a better term--now invisible and unknown to man, is as a medium in which the earth, submerged, floats as a speck of dust in a flood of space?" "certainly," he replied. "am i to infer from your remarks that, in the course of time, man will be able to economize this force, and adapt it to his wants?" "yes." "go on with your exposition, i again beg of you; lead me deeper into this expanding study." "there is but little more that you can comprehend now, as i have said," he answered. "all materials known to man are of coarse texture, and the minds of men are not yet in a condition to comprehend finer exhibitions of force, or of motion modifications. pure energy, in all its modifications, is absolutely unknown to man. what men call heat, gravitation, light, electricity, and magnetism are the grosser attributes attending alterations in an unknown, attenuated, highly developed force producer. they are results, not causes. the real force, an unreached energy, is now flooding all space, pervading all materials. everywhere there exists an infinite sea of motion absolute. since this primeval entity can not now affect matter, as matter is known to man, man's sense can only be influenced by secondary attributes of this energy. unconscious of its all-pervading presence, however, man is working towards the power that will some day, upon the development of latent senses, open to him this new world. then at last he will move without muscular exertion, or the use of heat as an agent of motion, and will, as i am now doing, bridle the motion of space. wherever he may be situated, there will then be warmth to any degree that he wishes, for he will be able to temper the seasons, and mass motion illimitable, also, for this energy, i reiterate, is omnipresent. however, as you will know more of this before long, we will pass the subject for the present." my guide slowly moved the lever. i sat in deep reflection, beginning to comprehend somewhat of his reasoning, and yet my mind was more than clouded. the several ambiguous repetitions he had made since our journey commenced, each time suggesting the same idea, clothing it in different forms of expression, impressed me vaguely with the conception of a certain something for which i was gradually being prepared, and that i might eventually be educated to grasp, but which he believed my mind was not yet ready to receive. i gathered from what he said that he could have given clearer explanations than he was now doing, and that he clothed his language intentionally in mysticism, and that, for some reason, he preferred to leave my mind in a condition of uncertainty. the velocity of the boat increased as he again and again cautiously touched the lever, and at last the responsive craft rose nearly out of the water, and skimmed like a bird over its surface. there was no object in that lake of pure crystal to govern me in calculating as to the rapidity of our motion, and i studied to evolve a method by which i could time our movements. with this object in view i tore a scrap from my clothing and tossed it into the air. it fell at my feet as if in a calm. there was no breeze. i picked the fragment up, in bewilderment, for i had expected it to fall behind us. then it occurred to me, as by a flash, that notwithstanding our apparently rapid motion, there was an entire absence of atmospheric resistance. what could explain the paradox? i turned to my guide and again tossed the fragment of cloth upward, and again it settled at my feet. he smiled, and answered my silent inquiry. "there is a protecting sheet before us, radiating, fan-like, from the bow of our boat as if a large pane of glass were resting on edge, thus shedding the force of the wind. this diaphragm catches the attenuated atmosphere and protects us from its friction." "but i see no such protecting object," i answered. "no; it is invisible. you can not see the obstructing power, for it is really a gyrating section of force, and is colorless. that spray of metal on the brow of our boat is the developer of this protecting medium. imagine a transverse section of an eddy of water on edge before us, and you can form a comparison. throw the bit of garment as far as you can beyond the side of the boat." i did so, and saw it flutter slowly away to a considerable distance parallel with our position in the boat as though in a perfect calm, and then it disappeared. it seemed to have been dissolved. i gazed at my guide in amazement. "try again," said he. [illustration: "the bit of garment fluttered listlessly away to the same distance, and then--vacancy."] i tore another and a larger fragment from my coat sleeve. i fixed my eyes closely upon it, and cast it from me. the bit of garment fluttered listlessly away to the same distance, and then--vacancy. wonders of wonderland, mysteries of the mysterious! what would be the end of this marvelous journey? suspicion again possessed me, and distrust arose. could not my self-existence be blotted out in like manner? i thought again of my new york home, and the recollection of upper earth, and those broken family ties brought to my heart a flood of bitter emotions. i inwardly cursed the writer of that alchemistic letter, and cursed myself for heeding the contents. the tears gushed from my eyes and trickled through my fingers as i covered my face with my hands and groaned aloud. then, with a gentle touch, my guide's hand rested on my shoulder. "calm yourself," he said; "this phenomenon is a natural sequence to a deeper study of nature than man has reached. it is simply the result of an exhibition of rapid motion. you are upon a great underground lake, that, on a shelf of earth substance one hundred and fifty miles below the earth's surface, covers an area of many thousand square miles, and which has an average depth of five miles. we are now crossing it diagonally at a rapid rate by the aid of the force that man will yet use in a perfectly natural manner on the rough upper ocean and bleak lands of the earth's coarse surface. the fragments of cloth disappeared from sight when thrown beyond the influence of our protecting diaphragm, because when they struck the outer motionless atmosphere they were instantly left behind; the eye could not catch their sudden change in motion. a period of time is necessary to convey from eye to mind the sensation of sight. the bullet shot from a gun is invisible by reason of the fact that the eye can not discern the momentary interruption to the light. a cannon ball will compass the field of vision of the eye, moving across it without making itself known, and yet the fact does not excite surprise. we are traveling so fast that small, stationary objects outside our track are invisible." then in a kind, pathetic tone of voice, he said: "an important lesson you should learn, i have mentioned it before. whatever seems to be mysterious, or marvelous, is only so because of the lack of knowledge of associated natural phenomena and connected conditions. all that you have experienced, all that you have yet to meet in your future journey, is as i have endeavored to teach you, in exact accordance with the laws that govern the universe, of which the earth constitutes so small a portion that, were the conditions favorable, it could be blotted from its present existence as quickly as that bit of garment disappeared, and with as little disturbance of the mechanism of the moving universe." i leaned over, resting my face upon my elbow; my thoughts were immethodically wandering in the midst of multiplying perplexities; i closed my eyes as a weary child, and slept. chapter xxvii. sleep, dreams, nightmare.--"strangle the life from my body." i know not how long i sat wrapped in slumber. even if my body had not been wearing away as formerly, my mind had become excessively wearied. i had existed in a state of abnormal mental intoxication far beyond the period of accustomed wakefulness, and had taxed my mental organization beyond endurance. in the midst of events of the most startling description, i had abruptly passed into what was at its commencement the sweetest sleep of my recollection, but which came to a horrible termination. in my dream i was transported once more to my native land, and roamed in freedom throughout the streets of my lost home. i lived over again my early life in virginia, and i seemed to have lost all recollection of the weird journey which i had lately taken. my subsequent connection with the brotherhood of alchemists, and the unfortunate letter that led to my present condition, were forgotten. there came no thought suggestive of the train of events that are here chronicled, and as a child i tasted again the pleasures of innocence, the joys of boyhood. then my dream of childhood vanished, and the scenes of later days spread themselves before me. i saw, after a time, the scenes of my later life, as though i viewed them from a distance, and was impressed with the idea that they were not real, but only the fragments of a dream. i shuddered in my childish dreamland, and trembled as a child would at confronting events of the real life that i had passed through on earth, and that gradually assuming the shape of man approached and stood before me, a hideous specter seemingly ready to absorb me. the peaceful child in which i existed shrunk back, and recoiled from the approaching living man. "away, away," i cried, "you shall not grasp me, i do not wish to become a man; this can not, must not be the horrible end to a sweet existence." gradually the man life approached, seized and enveloped me, closing around me as a jelly fish surrounds its living victim, while the horrors of a nightmare came over my soul. "man's life is a fearful dream," i shouted, as i writhed in agony; "i am still a child, and will remain one; keep off! life of man, away! let me live and die a child." the specter of man's life seized me more firmly as i struggled to escape, and holding me in its irresistible clutch absorbed my substance as a vampire might suck the blood of an infant, and while the childish dream disappeared in that hideous embrace, the miserable man awoke. i found myself on land. the guide, seated at my side, remarked: "you have slept." "i have lived again," i said in bitterness. "you have not lived at all as yet," he replied; "life is a dream, usually it is an unsatisfied nightmare." "then let me dream again as at the beginning of this slumber," i said; "and while i dream as a child, do you strangle the life from my body,--spare me the nightmare, i would not live to reach the life of man." "this is sarcasm," he replied; "you are as changeable as the winds of the earth's surface. now as you are about to approach a part of our journey where fortitude is necessary, behold, you waver as a little child might. nerve yourself; the trials of the present require a steady mind, let the future care for itself; you can not recall the past." i became attentive again; the depressing effects of that repulsive dream rapidly lifted, and wasted away, as i realized that i was a man, and was destined to see more than can be seen in the future of other mortals. this elevation of my spirit was evidently understood by my guide. he turned to the lake, and pointing to its quiet bosom, remarked: "for five hours we have journeyed over this sheet of water at the average rate of nine hundred miles an hour. at the time you threw the fragments of cloth overboard, we were traveling at a speed of not less than twenty miles per minute. you remember that some hours ago you criticised my assertion when i said that we would soon be near the axis of the earth beneath the north pole, and now we are beyond that point, and are about six thousand miles from where we stood at that time." "you must have your way," i replied; "i can not disprove your assertion, but were it not that i have passed through so many marvelous experiences since first we met, i would question the reliability of your information." my guide continued: "the surface of this lake lies as a mirror beneath both the ocean and the land. the force effect that preserves the configuration of the ocean preserves the form of this also, but influences it to a less extent, and the two surfaces lie nearly parallel with each other, this one being one hundred and fifty miles beneath the surface of the earth. the shell of the earth above us is honeycombed by caverns in some places, in others it is compact, and yet, in most places, is impervious to water. at the farther extremity of the lake, a stratum of porous material extends through the space intervening between the bottom of the ocean and this lake. by capillary attraction, assisted by gravitation, part of the water of the ocean is being transferred through this stratum to the underground cavity. the lake is slowly rising." at this remark i interrupted him: "you say the water in the ocean is being slowly transferred down to this underground lake less by gravity than by capillarity." "yes." "i believe that i have reason to question that statement, if you do not include the salt," i replied. "pray state your objections." i answered: "whether a tube be long or short, if it penetrate the bottom of a vessel of brine, and extend downward, the brine will flow into and out of it by reason of its weight." "you mistake," he asserted; "the attraction of the sides of the capillary tube, if the tube is long enough, will eventually separate the water from the salt, and at length a downward flow of water only will result." i again expressed my incredulity. "more than this, by perfectly natural laws the water that is freed from the tubes might again force itself upward perfectly fresh, to the surface of the earth--yes, under proper conditions, above the surface of the ocean." "do you take me for a fool?" i said. "is it not self-evident that a fountain can not rise above its source?" "it often does," he answered. "you trifle with me," i said, acrimoniously. "no," he replied; "i am telling you the truth. have you never heard of what men call artesian wells?" "yes, and" (here i attempted in turn to become sarcastic) "have you never learned that they are caused by water flowing into crevices in uplands where layers of stone or of clay strata separated by sand or gravel slant upward. the water conducted thence by these channels afterwards springs up in the valleys to which it has been carried by means of the crevices in these strata, but it never rises above its source." to my surprise he answered: "this is another of man's scientific speculations, based on some facts, it is true, and now and then correct, but not invariably. the water of an artesian well on an elevated plane may flow into the earth from a creek, pond, or river, that is lower than the mouth of the well it feeds, and still it may spout into the air from either a near or distant elevation that is higher than its source." "i can not admit the truth of this," i said; "i am willing to listen to reason, but such statements as these seem altogether absurd." "as you please," he replied; "we will continue our journey." interlude.--the story interrupted. chapter xxviii. a challenge.--my unbidden guest accepts it. the white-haired reader, in whom i had now become deeply interested, no longer an unwelcome stranger, suspended his reading, laid down his manuscript, and looking me in the face, asked: "are you a believer?" "no," i promptly answered. "what part of the narrative do you question?" "all of it." "have you not already investigated some of the statements i previously made?" he queried. "yes," i said; "but you had not then given utterance to such preposterous expressions." "is not the truth, the truth?" he answered. "you ask me to believe impossibilities," i replied. "name one." "you yourself admit," i said warmly, "that you were incredulous, and shook your head when your guide asserted that the bottom of the ocean might be as porous as a sieve, and still hold water. a fountain can not rise above its source." "it often does, however," he replied. "i do not believe you," i said boldly. "and, furthermore, i assert that you might as reasonably ask me to believe that i can see my own brain, as to accept your fiction regarding the production of light, miles below the surface of the earth." "i can make your brain visible to you, and if you dare to accompany me, i will carry you beneath the surface of the earth and prove my other statement," he said. "come!" he arose and grasped my arm. i hesitated. "you confess that you fear the journey." i made no reply. "well, since you fear that method, i am ready to convince you of the facts by any rational course you may select, and if you wish to stake your entire argument on the general statement that a stream of water can not rise above its head, i will accept the challenge; but i insist that you do not divulge the nature of the experiment until, as you are directed, you make public my story." "of course a fluid can be pumped up," i sarcastically observed. "however, i promise the secrecy you ask." "i am speaking seriously," he said, "and i have accepted your challenge; your own eyes shall view the facts, your own hands prepare the conditions necessary. procure a few pints of sand, and a few pounds of salt; to-morrow evening i will be ready to make the experiment." "agreed; if you will induce a stream of water to run up hill, a fountain to rise above its head, i will believe any statement you may henceforth make." "be ready, then," he replied, "and procure the materials named." so saying he picked up his hat and abruptly departed. these substances i purchased the next day, procuring the silver sand from gordon's pharmacy, corner of eighth and western row, and promptly at the specified time we met in my room. he came, provided with a cylindrical glass jar about eighteen inches high and two inches in diameter (such as i have since learned is called a hydrometer jar), and a long, slender drawn glass tube, the internal diameter of which was about one-sixteenth of an inch. "you have deceived me," i said; "i know well enough that capillary attraction will draw a liquid above its surface. you demonstrated that quite recently to my entire satisfaction." "true, and yet not true of this experiment," he said. "i propose to force water through and out of this tube; capillary attraction will not expel a liquid from a tube if its mouth be above the surface of the supply." he dipped the tip of a capillary tube into a tumbler of water; the water rose inside the tube about an inch above the surface of the water in the tumbler. "capillary attraction can do no more," he said. "break the tube one-eighth of an inch above the water (far below the present capillary surface), and it will not overflow. the exit of the tube must be lower than the surface of the liquid if circulation ensues." he broke off a fragment, and the result was as predicted. then he poured water into the glass jar to the depth of about six inches, and selecting a piece of very thin muslin, about an inch square, turned it over the end of the glass tube, tied it in position, and dropped that end of the tube into the cylinder. "the muslin simply prevents the tube from filling with sand," he explained. then he poured sand into the cylinder until it reached the surface of the water. (see figure .) "your apparatus is simple enough," i remarked, i am afraid with some sarcasm. "nature works with exceeding simplicity," he replied; "there is no complex apparatus in her laboratory, and i copy after nature." then he dissolved the salt in a portion of water that he drew from the hydrant into my wash bowl, making a strong brine, and stirred sand into the brine to make a thick mush. this mixture of sand and brine he then poured into the cylinder, filling it nearly to the top. (see figure , b. the sand settling soon left a layer of brine above it, as shown by a.) i had previously noticed that the upper end of the glass tube was curved, and my surprise can be imagined when i saw that at once water began to flow through the tube, dropping quite rapidly into the cylinder. the lower end of the curve of the glass tube was fully half an inch above the surface of the liquid in the cylinder. i here present a figure of the apparatus. (figure .) the strange man, or man image, i do not know which, sat before me, and in silence we watched the steady flow of water, water rising above its surface and flowing into the reservoir from which it was being continually derived. "do you give up?" he asked. "let me think," i said. "as you please," he replied. "how long will this continue?" i inquired. "until strong salt water flows from the tube." then the old man continued: "i would suggest that after i depart you repeat these experiments. the observations of those interested in science must be repeated time and again by separate individuals. it is not sufficient that one person should observe a phenomenon; repeated experiments are necessary in order to overcome error of manipulation, and to convince others of their correctness. not only yourself, but many others, after this manuscript appears, should go through with similar investigations, varied in detail as mind expansion may suggest. this experiment is but the germ of a thought which will be enlarged upon by many minds under other conditions. an event meteorological may occur in the experience of one observer, and never repeat itself. this is possible. the results of such experiments as you are observing, however, must be followed by similar results in the hands of others, and in behalf of science it is necessary that others should be able to verify your experience. in the time to come it will be necessary to support your statements in order to demonstrate that your perceptive faculties are now in a normal condition. are you sure that your conceptions of these results are justified by normal perception? may you not be in an exalted state of mind that hinders clear perception, and compels you to imagine and accept as fact that which does not exist? do you see what you think you see? after i am gone, and the influences that my person and mind exert on your own mind have been removed, will these results, as shown by my experiments, follow similar experimental conditions? in the years that are to pass before this paper is to be made public, it will be your duty to verify your present sense faculty. this you must do as opportunities present, and with different devices, so that no question may arise as to what will follow when others repeat our experiments. to-morrow evening i will call again, but remember, you must not tell others of this experiment, nor show the devices to them." [illustration: fig. . a, brine. b, sand and brine mixed. c, sand and water.] "i have promised," i answered. he gathered his manuscript and departed, and i sat in meditation watching the mysterious fountain. as he had predicted, finally, after a long time, the flow slackened, and by morning, when i arose from my bed, the water had ceased to drip, and then i found it salty to the taste. the next evening he appeared as usual, and prepared to resume his reading, making no mention of the previous test of my faith. i interrupted him, however, by saying that i had observed that the sand had settled in the cylinder, and that in my opinion his experiment was not true to appearances, but was a deception, since the sand by its greater weight displaced the water, which escaped through the tube, where there was least resistance. "ah," he said, "and so you refuse to believe your own eyesight, and are contriving to escape the deserved penalty; i will, however, acquiesce in your outspoken desire for further light, and repeat the experiment without using sand. but i tell you that mother earth, in the phenomena known as artesian wells, uses sand and clay, pools of mineral waters of different gravities, and running streams. the waters beneath the earth are under pressure, induced by such natural causes as i have presented you in miniature, the chief difference being that the supplies of both salt and fresh water are inexhaustible, and by natural combinations similar to what you have seen; the streams within the earth, if a pipe be thrust into them, may rise continuously, eternally, from a reservoir higher than the head. in addition, there are pressures of gases, and solutions of many salts, other than chloride of soda, that tend to favor the phenomenon. you are unduly incredulous, and you ask of me more than your right after staking your faith on an experiment of your own selection. you demand more of me even than nature often accomplishes in earth structure; but to-morrow night i will show you that this seemingly impossible feat is possible." he then abruptly left the room. the following evening he presented himself with a couple of one-gallon cans, one of them without a bottom. i thought i could detect some impatience of manner as he filled the perfect can (d) with water from the hydrant, and having spread a strip of thin muslin over the mouth of the other can (b), pressed it firmly over the mouth (c) of the can of water, which it fitted tightly, thus connecting them together, the upper (bottomless) can being inverted. then he made a narrow slit in the center of the muslin with his pen-knife, and through it thrust a glass tube like that of our former experiment. next he wrapped a string around the open top of the upper can, crossed it over the top, and tied the glass tube to the center of the cross string. "simply to hold this tube in position," he explained. the remainder of the bag of salt left from the experiment of the preceding evening was then dissolved in water, and the brine poured into the upper can, filling it to the top. then carefully thrusting the glass tube downward, he brought the tip of the curve to within about one-half inch of the surface of the brine, when immediately a rapid flow of liquid exhibited itself. (figure .) [illustration: fig. . a, surface of brine. b, upper can filled with brine. c, necks of cans telescoped. d, lower can full of water.] "it rises above its source without sand," he observed. "i can not deny the fact," i replied, "and furthermore i am determined that i shall not question any subsequent statement that you may make." we sat in silence for some time, and the water ran continuously through the tube. i was becoming alarmed, afraid of my occult guest, who accepted my self-selected challenges, and worked out his results so rapidly; he seemed to be more than human. "i am a mortal, but a resident of a higher plane than you," he replied, divining my thoughts. "is not this experiment a natural one?" "yes," i said. "did not shakspeare write, 'there are more things in heaven and earth, horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy'?" "yes," i said. and my guest continued: "he might have added, 'and always will be'." "scientific men will explain this phenomenon," i suggested. "yes, when they observe the facts," he replied, "it is very simple. they can now tell, as i have before remarked, how columbus stood the egg on end; however, given the problem before columbus expounded it, they would probably have wandered as far from the true solution as the mountain with its edgewise layers of stone is from the disconnected artesian wells on a distant sea coast where the underground fresh and salt water in overlying currents and layers clash together. the explanation, of course, is simple. the brine is of greater specific gravity than the pure water; the pressure of the heavier fluid forces the lighter up in the tube. this action continues until, as you will see by this experiment, in the gradual diffusion of brine and pure water the salt is disseminated equally throughout the vessels, and the specific gravity of the mixed liquid becomes the same throughout, when the flow will cease. however, in the earth, where supplies are inexhaustible, the fountain flows unceasingly." chapter xxix. beware of biology, the science of the life of man.[ ] (the old man relates a story as an object lesson.) [ ] the reader is invited to skip this chapter of horrors.--j. u. l. "but you have not lived up to the promise; you have evaded part of the bargain," i continued. "while you have certainly performed some curious experiments in physics which seem to be unique, yet, i am only an amateur in science, and your hydrostatic illustrations may be repetitions of investigations already recorded, that have escaped the attention of the scientific gentlemen to whom i have hitherto applied." "man's mind is a creature of doubts and questions," he observed. "answer one query, and others rise. his inner self is never satisfied, and you are not to blame for wishing for a sign, as all self-conscious conditions of your former existence compel. now that i have brushed aside the more prominent questionings, you insist upon those omitted, and appeal to me to--" he hesitated. "to what?" i asked, curious to see if he had intuitively grasped my unspoken sentence. "to exhibit to you your own brain," he replied. "that is it exactly," i said; "you promised it, and you shall be held strictly to your bargain. you agreed to show me my own brain, and it seems evident that you have purposely evaded the promise." "that i have made the promise and deferred its completion can not be denied, but not by reason of an inability to fulfill the contract. i will admit that i purposely deferred the exhibition, hoping on your own account that you would forget the hasty promise. you would better release me from the promise; you do not know what you ask." "i believe that i ask more than you can perform," i answered, "and that you know it." "let me give you a history," he said, "and then perhaps you will relent. listen. a man once became involved in the study of anatomy. it led him to destruction. he commenced the study in order to learn a profession; he hoped to become a physician. materia medica, pharmacy, chemistry, enticed him at first, but after a time presented no charms. he was a dull student in much that men usually consider essential to the practice of medicine. he was not fitted to be a physician. gradually he became absorbed in two branches, physiology and anatomy. within his mental self a latent something developed that neither himself nor his friends had suspected. this was an increasing desire for knowledge concerning the human body. the insatiable craving for anatomy grew upon him, and as it did so other sections of medicine were neglected. gradually he lost sight of his professional object; he dropped chemistry, materia medica, pharmacy, and at last, morbidly lived only in the aforenamed two branches. "his first visit to the dissecting room was disagreeable. the odor of putrid flesh, the sight of the mutilated bodies repulsed him. when first his hand, warm in life, touched the clammy flesh of a corpse, he shuddered. then when his fingers came in contact with the viscera of a cadaver, that of a little child, he cried out in horror. the demonstrator of anatomy urged him on; he finally was induced to dissect part of the infant. the reflex action on his sensitive mind first stunned, and then warped his senses. his companions had to lead him from the room. 'wash it off, wash it off,' he repeated, trying to throw his hand from his person. 'horrid, horrible, unclean. the child is yet before me,' he insisted. then he went into a fever and raved. 'some mother will meet me on the street and curse me,' he cried. 'that hand is red with the blood of my darling; it has desecrated the innocent dead, and mutilated that which is most precious to a mother. take the hand away, wash it,' he shouted. 'the mother curses me; she demands retribution. better that a man be dead than cursed by a mother whose child has been desecrated.' so the unfortunate being raved, dreaming all manner of horrid imaginings. but at last he recovered, a different man. he returned voluntarily to the dissecting-room, and wrapped himself in the uncouth work. nothing in connection with corpse-mutilation was now offensive or unclean. he threw aside his other studies, he became a slave possessed of one idea. he scarcely took time to dine respectably; indeed, he often ate his lunch in the dissecting-room. the blood of a child was again and again on his fingers; it mattered not, he did not take the trouble to wash it off. 'the liver of man is not more sacred than the liver of a hog,' he argued; 'the flesh of a man is the same as other forms of animal food. when a person dies the vital heat escapes, consciousness is dissipated, and the cold, rigid remains are only animal. consciousness and life are all that is of man--one is force, the other matter; when man dies both perish and are dissipated.' his friends perceived his fondness for dissection, and argued with him again, endeavoring now to overcome his infatuation; he repelled them. 'i learned in my vision,' he said, referring to his fever, 'that pope was right in saying that the "proper study of mankind is man"; i care nothing for your priestly superstitions concerning the dead. these fables are the invention of designing churchmen who live on the superstitions of the ignorant. i am an infidel, and believe in no spirit intangible; that which can be seen, felt, and weighed is, all else is not. life is simply a sensation. all beyond is chimerical, less than fantastic, believed in only by dupes and weak-minded, credulous tools of knaves, or creatures of blind superstition.' he carried the finely articulated, bleached skull of a cadaver to his room, and placed it beside a marble statue that was a valued heirloom, the model of venus of milo. 'both are lime compounds,' he cynically observed, 'neither is better than the other.' his friends protested. 'your superstitious education is at fault,' he answered; 'you mentally clothe one of these objects in a quality it does not deserve, and the thought creates a pleasant emotion. the other, equally as pure, reminds you of the grave that you fear, and you shudder. these mental pulsations are artificial, both being either survivals of superstition, or creations of your own mind. the lime in the skull is now as inanimate as that of the statue; neither object is responsible for its form, neither is unclean. to me, the delicate configuration, the exact articulation, the perfect adaptation for the office it originally filled, makes each bone of this skull a thing of beauty, an object of admiration. as a whole, it gives me pleasure to think of this wonderful, exquisitely arranged piece of mechanism. the statue you admire is in every respect outrivaled by the skull, and i have placed the two together because it pleases me to demonstrate that man's most artistic creation is far inferior to material man. throw aside your sentimental prejudices, and join with me in the admiration of this thing of beauty;' and he toyed with the skull as if it were a work of art. so he argued, and arguing passed from bone to bone, and from organ to organ. he filled his room with abnormal fragments of the human body, and surrounded himself with jars of preserved anatomical specimens. his friends fled in disgust, and he smiled, glad to be alone with his ghastly subjects. he was infatuated in one of the alcoves of science." the old man paused. "shall i proceed?" he asked. "yes," i said, but involuntarily moved my chair back, for i began again to be afraid of the speaker. "at last this scientific man had mastered all that was known concerning physiology and anatomy. he learned by heart the wording of great volumes devoted to these subjects. the human frame became to him as an open book. he knew the articulation of every muscle, could name a bone from a mere fragment. the microscope ceased to be an object of interest, the secrets of pathology and physiology had been mastered. then, unconsciously, he was infected by another tendency; a new thought was destined to dominate his brain. 'what is it that animates this frame? what lies inside to give it life?' he became enthused again: 'the dead body, to which i have given my time, is not the conscious part of man,' he said to himself; 'i must find this thing of life within; i have been only a butcher of the dead. my knowledge is superficial.'" again the old man hesitated and looked at me inquiringly. "shall i proceed?" he repeated. i was possessed by horror, but yet fascinated, and answered determinedly: "go on." "beware," he added, "beware of the science of life." pleadingly he looked at me. "go on," i commanded. he continued: "with the cunning of a madman, this person of profound learning, led from the innocence of ignorance to the heartlessness of advanced biological science, secretly planned to seek the vital forces. 'i must begin with a child, for the life essence shows its first manifestations in children,' he reasoned. he moved to an unfrequented locality, discharged his servants, and notified his former friends that visitors were unwelcome. he had determined that no interruption to his work should occur. this course was unnecessary, however, for now he had neither friends nor visitors. he employed carpenters and artisans, and perfected a series of mechanical tables, beautiful examples of automatic mechanism. from the inner room of that house no cry could be heard by persons outside.... [it will be seen, by referring to the epilogue, that mr. drury agreed to mutilate part of the book. this i have gladly done, excising the heart-rending passages that follow. to use the words of prof. venable, they do not "comport with the general delicacy of the book."--j. u. l.] "hold, old man, cease," i cried aghast; "i have had enough of this. you trifle with me, demon; i have not asked for nightmare stories, heart-curdling accounts of maniacal investigators, who madly pursue their revolting calling, and discredit the name of science." "you asked to see your own brain," he replied. "and have been given a terrible story instead," i retorted. "so men perverted, misconstruing the aim of science, answer the cry of humanity," he said. "one by one the cherished treasures of christianity have been stolen from the faithful. what, to the mother, can replace the babe that has been lost?" "the next world," i answered, "offers a comfort." "bah," he said; "does not another searcher in that same science field tell the mother that there is no personal hereafter, that she will never see her babe again? one man of science steals the body, another man of science takes away the soul, the third annihilates heaven; they go like pestilence and famine, hand in hand, subsisting on all that craving humanity considers sacred, and offering no tangible return beyond a materialistic present. this same science that seems to be doing so much for humanity will continue to elevate so-called material civilization until, as the yeast ferment is smothered in its own excretion, so will science-thought create conditions to blot itself from existence, and destroy the civilization it creates. science is heartless, notwithstanding the personal purity of the majority of her helpless votaries. she is a thief, not of ordinary riches, but of treasures that can not be replaced. before science provings the love of a mother perishes, the hope of immortality is annihilated. beware of materialism, the end of the science of man. beware of the beginning of biological inquiry, for he who commences, can not foresee the termination. i say to you in candor, no man ever engaged in the part of science lore that questions the life essence, realizing the possible end of his investigations. the insidious servant becomes a tyrannical master; the housebreaker is innocent, the horse thief guiltless in comparison. science thought begins in the brain of man; science provings end all things with the end of the material brain of man. beware of your own brain." [illustration: "rising abruptly, he grasped my hand."] "i have no fear," i replied, "that i will ever be led to disturb the creeds of the faithful, and i will not be diverted. i demand to see my brain." "your demand shall now be fulfilled; you have been warned of the return that may follow the commencement of this study; you force the issue; my responsibility ceases. no man of science realized the end when he began to investigate his throbbing brain, and the end of the fabric that science is weaving for man rests in the hidden future. the story i have related is a true one, as thousands of faithful men who unconsciously have been led into infidelity have experienced; and as the faithful followers of sacred teachings can also perceive, who recognize that their religion and the hope of heaven is slipping away beneath the steady inroad of the heartless materialistic investigator, who clothes himself in the garb of science." rising abruptly from his chair, he grasped my hand. "you shall see your brain, man; come." chapter xxx. looking backward.--the living brain. the old man accompanied his word "come," as i have said, by rising from his chair, and then with a display of strength quite out of proportion to his age, he grasped my wrist and drew me toward the door. realizing at once that he intended i should accompany him into the night, i protested, saying that i was quite unprepared. "my hat, at least," i insisted, as he made no recognition of my first demur. "your hat is on your head," he replied. this was true, although i am sure the hat had been previously hung on a rack in a distant part of the room, and i am equally certain that neither my companion nor myself had touched it. leaving me no time for reflection, he opened the door, and drew me through the hall-way and into the gloom. as though perfectly familiar with the city, he guided me from my cozy home, on the retired side street in which i resided, eastwardly into the busy thoroughfare, western row. our course led us down towards the river, past ninth, eighth, seventh streets. now and then a pedestrian stopped to gaze in surprise at the unique spectacle, the old man leading the young one, but none made any attempt to molest us. we passed on in silence, out of the busy part of the thoroughfare and into the shady part of the city, into the darkness below fifth street. here the residences were poorer, and tenement-houses and factories began to appear. we were now in a quarter of the city into which strangers seldom, if ever, penetrated after night, and in which i would not have cared to be found unprotected at any time after sunset, much less in such questionable company. i protested against the indiscretion; my leader made no reply, but drew me on past the flickering gas lights that now and then appeared at the intersection of third, pearl, second, and water streets, until at last we stood, in darkness, on the bank of the ohio river. strange, the ferry-boat at that time of night only made a trip every thirty minutes, and yet it was at the landing as though by appointment. fear began to possess me, and as my thoughts recur to that evening, i can not understand how it was that i allowed myself to be drawn without cry or resistance from my secure home to the ohio river, in such companionship. i can account for the adventure only by the fact that i had deliberately challenged my companion to make the test he was fulfilling, and that an innate consciousness of pride and justice compelled me to permit him to employ his own methods. we crossed the river without speaking, and rapidly ascending the levee we took our course up main street into covington. still in the lead, my aged guide, without hesitation, went onward to the intersection of main and pike streets; thence he turned to the right, and following the latter thoroughfare we passed the old tannery, that i recalled as a familiar landmark, and then started up the hill. onward we strode, past a hotel named "niemeyer's," and soon were in the open country on the lexington pike, treading through the mud, diagonally up the hill back of covington. then, at a sharp curve in the road where it rounded the point of the hill, we left the highway, and struck down the hillside into a ravine that bounded the lower side of the avenue. we had long since left the city lamps and sidewalks behind us, and now, when we left the roadway, were on the muddy pike at a considerable elevation upon the hillside and, looking backward, i beheld innumerable lights throughout the cities of cincinnati, covington, and the village of newport, sparkling away in the distance behind and below us. "come," my companion said again, as i hesitated, repeating the only word he had uttered since telling his horrible story, "come!" down the hill into the valley we plunged, and at last he opened the door of an isolated log cabin, which we entered. he lighted a candle that he drew from his pocket, and together we stood facing each other. "be seated," he said dryly. and then i observed that the cold excuse for furniture in that desolate room consisted of a single rude, hand-made chair with corn-shuck bottom. however, i did not need a second invitation, but sank exhausted and disconsolate upon the welcome object. my companion lost no time, but struck at once into the subject that concerned us, arguing as follows: "one of the troubles with humanity is that of changing a thought from the old to a new channel; to grasp at one effort an entirely new idea is an impossibility. men follow men in trains of thought expression, as in bodily form generations of men follow generations. a child born with three legs is a freak of nature, a monstrosity, yet it sometimes appears. a man possessed of a new idea is an anomaly, a something that may not be impossible, but which has never appeared. it is almost as difficult to conceive of a new idea as it is to create out of nothing a new material or an element. neither thoughts nor things can be invented, both must be evolved out of a preëxisting something which it necessarily resembles. every advanced idea that appears in the brain of man is the result of a suggestion from without. men have gone on and on ceaselessly, with their minds bent in one direction, ever looking outwardly, never inwardly. it has not occurred to them to question at all in the direction of backward sight. mind has been enabled to read the impressions that are made in and on the substance of brain convolutions, but at the same time has been and is insensible to the existence of the convolutions themselves. it is as though we could read the letters of the manuscript that bears them without having conceived of a necessity for the existence of a printed surface, such as paper or anything outside the letters. had anatomists never dissected a brain, the human family would to-day live in absolute ignorance of the nature of the substance that lies within the skull. did you ever stop to think that the mind can not now bring to the senses the configuration, or nature, of the substance in which mind exists? its own house is unknown. this is in consequence of the fact that physical existence has always depended upon the study of external surroundings, and consequently the power of internal sight lies undeveloped. it has never been deemed necessary for man to attempt to view the internal construction of his body, and hence the sense of feeling only advises him of that which lies within his own self. this sense is abstract, not descriptive. normal organs have no sensible existence. thus an abnormal condition of an organ creates the sensation of pain or pleasure, but discloses nothing concerning the appearance or construction of the organ affected. the perfect liver is as vacancy. the normal brain never throbs and aches. the quiescent arm presents no evidence to the mind concerning its shape, size, or color. man can not count his fingers unless some outside object touches them, or they press successively against each other, or he perceives them by sight. the brain of man, the seat of knowledge, in which mind centers, is not perceptible through the senses. does it not seem irrational, however, to believe that mind itself is not aware, or could not be made cognizant, of the nature of its material surroundings?" "i must confess that i have not given the subject a thought," i replied. "as i predicted," he said. "it is a step toward a new idea, and simple as it seems, now that the subject has been suggested, you must agree that thousands of intelligent men have not been able to formulate the thought. the idea had never occurred to them. even after our previous conversation concerning the possibility of showing you your own brain, you were powerless and could not conceive of the train of thought which i started, and along which i shall now further direct your senses." "the eye is so constituted that light produces an impression on a nervous film in the rear of that organ, this film is named the retina, the impression being carried backward therefrom through a magma of nerve fibers (the optic nerve), and reaching the brain, is recorded on that organ and thus affects the mind. is it not rational to suppose it possible for this sequence to be reversed? in other words, if the order were reversed could not the same set of nerves carry an impression from behind to the retina, and picture thereon an image of the object which lies anterior thereto, to be again, by reflex action, carried back to the brain, thus bringing the brain substance itself to the view of the mind, and thus impress the senses? to recapitulate: if the nerve sensation, or force expression, should travel from the brain to the retina, instead of from an outward object, it will on the reverse of the retina produce the image of that which lies behind, and then if the optic nerve carry the image back to the brain, the mind will bring to the senses the appearance of the image depicted thereon." [illustration: "facing the open window he turned the pupils of his eyes upward."] "this is my first consideration of the subject," i replied. "exactly," he said; "you have passed through life looking at outside objects, and have been heedlessly ignorant of your own brain. you have never made an exclamation of surprise at the statement that you really see a star that exists in the depths of space millions of miles beyond our solar system, and yet you became incredulous and scornful when it was suggested that i could show you how you could see the configuration of your brain, an object with which the organ of sight is nearly in contact. how inconsistent." "the chain of reasoning is certainly novel, and yet i can not think of a mode by which i can reverse my method of sight and look backward," i now respectfully answered. "it is very simple; all that is required is a counter excitation of the nerve, and we have with us to-night what any person who cares to consider the subject can employ at any time, and thus behold an outline of a part of his own brain. i will give you the lesson." placing himself before the sashless window of the cabin, which opening appeared as a black space pictured against the night, the sage took the candle in his right hand, holding it so that the flame was just below the tip of the nose, and about six inches from his face. then facing the open window he turned the pupils of his eyes upward, seeming to fix his gaze on the upper part of the open window space, and then he slowly moved the candle transversely, backward and forward, across, in front of his face, keeping it in such position that the flickering flame made a parallel line with his eyes, and as just remarked, about six inches from his face, and just below the tip of his nose. speaking deliberately, he said: "now, were i you, this movement would produce a counter irritation of the retina; a rhythm of the optic nerve would follow, a reflex action of the brain accompanying, and now a figure of part of the brain that rests against the skull in the back of my head would be pictured on the retina. i would see it plainly, apparently pictured or thrown across the open space before me." "incredible!" i replied. "try for yourself," quietly said my guide. placing myself in the position designated, i repeated the maneuver, when slowly a shadowy something seemed to be evolved out of the blank space before me. it seemed to be as a gray veil, or like a corrugated sheet as thin as gauze, which as i gazed upon it and discovered its outline, became more apparent and real. soon the convolutions assumed a more decided form, the gray matter was visible, filled with venations, first gray and then red, and as i became familiar with the sight, suddenly the convolutions of a brain in all its exactness, with a network of red blood venations, burst into existence.[ ] [ ] this experiment is not claimed as original. see purkinje's beiträge zur kenntniss des sehens in subjectiver hinsicht (prague, and ), whose conclusions to the effect that the shadow of the retina is seen, i-am-the-man ignores.--j. u. l. [illustration: "a brain, a living brain, my own brain."] i beheld a brain, a brain, a living brain, my own brain, and as an uncanny sensation possessed me i shudderingly stopped the motion of the candle, and in an instant the shadowy figure disappeared. "have i won the wager?" "yes," i answered. "then," said my companion, "make no further investigations in this direction." "but i wish to verify the experiment," i replied. "although it is not a pleasant test, i can not withstand the temptation to repeat it." and again i moved the candle backward and forward, when the figure of my brain sprung at once into existence. "it is more vivid," i said; "i see it plainer, and more quickly than before." "beware of the science of man, i repeat," he replied; "now, before you are deep in the toils, and can not foresee the end, beware of the science of human biology. remember the story recently related, that of the physician who was led to destruction by the alluring voice." i made no reply, but stood with my face fixed, slowly moving the candle backward and forward, gazing intently into the depths of my own brain. after a time the old man removed the candle from my hand, and said: "do you accept the fact? have i demonstrated the truth of the assertion?" "yes," i replied; "but tell me further, now that you have excited my interest, have i seen and learned all that man can discover in this direction?" "no; you have seen but a small portion of the brain convolutions, only those that lie directly back of the optic nerve. by systematic research, under proper conditions, every part of the living brain may become as plainly pictured as that which you have seen." "and is that all that could be learned?" i asked. "no," he continued. "further development may enable men to picture the figures engraved on the convolutions, and at last to read the thoughts that are engraved within the brains of others, and thus through material investigation the observer will perceive the recorded thought of another person. an instrument capable of searching and illuminating the retina could be easily affixed to the eye of a criminal, after which, if the mind of the person operated upon were stimulated by the suggestion of an occurrence either remote or recent, the mind facility would excite the brain, produce the record, and spread the circumstances as a picture before the observer. the brain would tell its own story, and the investigator could read the truth as recorded in the brain of the other man. a criminal subjected to such an examination could not tell an untruth, or equivocate; his very brain would present itself to the observer." "and you make this assertion, and then ask me to go no further into the subject?" "yes; decidedly yes." "tell me, then, could you not have performed this experiment in my room, or in the dark cellar of my house?" "any one can repeat it with a candle in any room not otherwise lighted, by looking at a blackboard, a blank wall, or black space," he said. i was indignant. "why have you treated me so inhumanly? was there a necessity for this journey, these mysterious movements, this physical exertion? look at the mud with which i am covered, and consider the return trip which yet lies before me, and which must prove even more exhausting?" "ah," he said, "you overdraw. the lesson has been easily acquired. science is not an easy road to travel. those who propose to profit thereby must work circuitously, soil their hands and person, meet discouragements, and must expect hardships, reverses, abuse, and discomfort. do not complain, but thank me for giving you the lesson without other tribulations that might have accompanied it. besides, there was another object in my journey, an object that i have quietly accomplished, and which you may never know. come, we must return." he extinguished the light of the candle, and we departed together, trudging back through the mud and the night.[ ] [ ] we must acquiesce in the explanation given for this seemingly uncalled-for journey, and yet feel that it was unnecessarily exacting. of that wearisome return trip i have nothing to say beyond the fact that before reaching home my companion disappeared in the darkness of a side street, and that the cathedral chimes were playing for three o'clock a.m., as i passed the corner of eighth street and western row. the next evening my visitor appeared as usual, and realizing his complete victory, he made no reference to the occurrences of the previous night. in his usual calm and deliberate manner he produced the roll of manuscript saying benignantly, and in a gentle tone: "do you recollect where i left off reading?" "you had reached that point in your narrative," i answered, "at which your guide had replaced the boat on the surface of the lake." and the mysterious being resumed his reading. the manuscript continued. chapter xxxi. a lesson on volcanoes.--primary colors are capable of farther subdivision. "get into the boat," said my eyeless pilot, "and we will proceed to the farther edge of the lake, over the barrier of which at great intervals of time, the surface water flows, and induces the convulsion known as mount epomeo." we accordingly embarked, and a gentle touch of the lever enabled us rapidly to skirt the shore of the underground sea. the soft, bright, pleasant earth-light continually enveloped us, and the absence of either excessive heat or cold, rendered existence delightful. the weird forms taken by the objects that successively presented themselves on the shore were a source of continual delight to my mind. the motion of our boat was constantly at the will of my guide. now we would skim across a great bay, flashing from point to point; again we wound slowly through tortuous channels and among partly submerged stones. "what a blessing this mode of locomotion would be to humanity," i murmured. "humanity will yet attain it," he replied. "step by step men have stumbled along towards the goal that the light of coming centuries is destined to illuminate. they have studied, and are still engaged in studying, the properties of grosser forces, such as heat and electricity, and they will be led by the thread they are following, to this and other achievements yet unthought of, but which lie back of those more conspicuous." [illustration: "we finally reached a precipitous bluff."] we finally reached a precipitous bluff, that sprung to my view as by magic, and which, with a glass-like surface, stretched upward to a height beyond the scope of my vision, rising straight from the surface of the lake. it was composed of a material seemingly black as jet, and yet when seen under varying spectacular conditions as we skirted its base it reflected, or emitted, most gorgeously the brilliant hues of the rainbow, and also other colors hitherto unknown to me. "there is something unique in these shades; species of color appear that i can not identify; i seem to perceive colors utterly unlike any that i know as the result of deflected, or transmitted, sunlight rays, and they look unlike the combinations of primary colors with which i am familiar." "your observations are true; some of these colors are unknown on earth." "but on the surface of the earth we have all possible combinations of the seven prismatic rays," i answered. "how can there be others here?" "because, first, your primary colors are capable of further subdivision. "second, other rays, invisible to men under usual conditions, also emanate from the sun, and under favorable circumstances may be brought to the sense of sight." "do you assert that the prism is capable of only partly analyzing the sunlight?" "yes; what reason have you to argue that, because a triangular bit of glass resolves a white ray into seven fractions that are, as men say, differently colored, you could not by proper methods subdivide each of these so-called primary shades into others? what reason have you to doubt that rays now invisible to man accompany those capable of impressing his senses, and might by proper methods become perceptible as new colors?" "none," i answered; "only that i have no proof that such rays exist." "but they do exist, and men will yet learn that the term 'primitive' ray, as applied to each of the seven colors of the rainbow, is incorrect. each will yet be resolved, and as our faculties multiply and become more subtle, other colors will be developed, possessed of a delicacy and richness indescribable now, for as yet man can not comprehend the possibilities of education beyond the limits of his present condition." during this period of conversation we skirted the richly colored bluff with a rapid motion, and at last shot beyond it, as with a flash, into seeming vacancy. i was sitting with my gaze directed toward the bluff, and when it instantly disappeared, i rubbed my eyes to convince myself of their truthfulness, and as i did so our boat came gradually to a stand on the edge of what appeared to be an unfathomable abyss. beneath me on the side where had risen the bluff that disappeared so abruptly, as far as the eye could reach, was an absolute void. to our right, and before and behind us, stretched the surface of that great smooth lake on whose bosom we rested. to our left, our boat brushing its rim, a narrow ledge, a continuation of the black, glass-like material, reached only a foot above the water, and beyond this narrow brink the mass descended perpendicularly to seemingly infinite depths. involuntarily i grasped the sides of the boat, and recoiled from the frightful chasm, over which i had been so suddenly suspended, and which exceeded anything of a similar description that i had ever seen. the immeasurable depth of the abyss, in connection with the apparently frail barrier that held the great lake in its bounds, caused me to shudder and shrink back, and my brain reeled in dizzy fright. an inexplicable attraction, however, notwithstanding my dread, held me spell-bound, and although i struggled to shut out that view, the endeavor failed. i seemed to be drawn by an irresistible power, and yet i shuddered at the awful majesty of that yawning gulf which threatened to end the world on which i then existed. fascinated, entranced, i could not help gazing, i knew not how long, down, down into that fathomless, silent profundity. composing myself, i turned a questioning glance on my guide. he informed me that this hard, glass-like dam confined the waters of the slowly rising lake that we were sailing over, and which finally would rise high enough to overflow the barrier. [illustration: "the wall descended perpendicularly to seemingly infinite depths."] "the cycle of the periodic overflow is measured by great intervals," he said; "centuries are required to raise the level of the lake a fraction of an inch, and thousands of years may elapse before its surface will again reach the top of the adamantine wall. then, governed by the law that attracts a liquid to itself, and heaps the teaspoon with liquid, the water of the quiet lake piles upon this narrow wall, forming a ledge along its summit. finally the superimposed surface water gives way, and a skim of water pours over into the abyss." he paused; i leaned over and meditated, for i had now accustomed myself to the situation. "there is no bottom," i exclaimed. "upon the contrary," he answered, "the bottom is less than ten miles beneath us, and is a great funnel-shaped orifice, the neck of the funnel reaching first down and then upward from us diagonally toward the surface of the earth. although the light by which we are enveloped is bright, yet it is deficient in penetrating power, and is not capable of giving the contour of objects even five miles away, hence the chasm seems bottomless, and the gulf measureless." "is it not natural to suppose that a mass of water like this great lake would overflow the barrier immediately, as soon as the surface reached the upper edge, for the pressure of the immense volume must be beyond calculation." "no, for it is height, not expanse, which, as hydrostatic engineers understand, governs the pressure of water. a liquid column, one foot in width, would press against the retaining dam with the force of a body of the same liquid, the same depth, one thousand miles in extent. then the decrease of gravity here permits the molecular attraction of the water's molecules to exert itself more forcibly than would be the case on the surface of the earth, and this holds the liquid mass together more firmly." "see," he observed, and dipping his finger into the water he held it before him with a drop of water attached thereto (figure ), the globule being of considerable size, and lengthened as though it consisted of some glutinous liquid. [illustration: fig. .] "how can a thin stratum of water give rise to a volcanic eruption?" i next queried. "there seems to be no melted rock, no evidence of intense heat, either beneath or about us." "i informed you some time ago that i would partially explain these facts. know then, that the theories of man concerning volcanic eruptions, in connection with a molten interior of the earth, are such as are evolved in ignorance of even the sub-surface of the globe. the earth's interior is to mankind a sealed chamber, and the wise men who elucidate the curious theories concerning natural phenomena occurring therein are forced to draw entirely upon their imagination. few persons realize the paucity of data at the command of workers in science. theories concerning the earth are formulated from so little real knowledge of that body, that our science may be said to be all theory, with scarcely a trace of actual evidence to support it. if a globe ten inches in diameter be covered with a sheet of paper, such as i hold in my hand, the thickness of that sheet will be greater in proportion to that of such a globe than the depth men have explored within the earth is compared with the thickness of the crust of the earth. the outer surface of a pencil line represents the surface of the earth; the inner surface of the line represents the depth of man's explorations; the highest mountain would be represented by a comma resting on the line. the geologist studies the substances that are thrust from the crater of an active volcano, and from this makes conjectures regarding the strata beneath, and the force that casts the excretions out. the results must with men, therefore, furnish evidence from which to explain the cause. it is as though an anatomist would form his idea of the anatomy of the liver by the secretion thrown out of that organ, or of the lung texture by the breath and sputum. in fact, volcanoes are of several descriptions, and usually are extremely superficial. this lake, the surface of which is but one hundred and fifty miles underground, is the mother of an exceptionally deep one. when the water pours over this ledge it strikes an element below us, the metallic base of salt, which lies in great masses in some portions of the earth's crust.[ ] then an immediate chemical reaction ensues, the water is dissociated, intense heat results, part of the water combines with the metal, part is vaporized as steam, while part escapes as an inflammable gas. the sudden liberation of these gases causes an irregular pressure of vapor on the surface of the lake, the result being a throbbing and rebounding of the attenuated atmosphere above, which, in gigantic waves, like swelling tides, dashes great volumes of water over the ledge beside us, and into the depth below. this water in turn reacts on fresh portions of the metallic base, and the reflex action increases the vapor discharges, and as a consequence the chamber we are in becomes a gasholder, containing vapors of unequal gas pressures, and the resultant agitation of the lake from the turmoil continues, and the pulsations are repeated until the surface of the lake is lowered to such a degree as at last to prevent the water from overflowing the barrier. finally the lake quiets itself, the gases slowly disappear by earth absorption, and by escape from the volcanic exit, and for an unrecorded period of time thereafter the surface of the lake continues to rise slowly as it is doing now." [ ] this view is supported in theory by a note i believe to have somewhere seen recorded. elsewhere other bases are mentioned also.--j. u. l. "but what has this phenomenon to do with the volcano?" "it produces the eruption; the water that rushes down into the chasm, partly as steam, partly as gas, is forced onward and upward through a crevice that leads to the old crater of the presumed extinct but periodically active mount epomeo. these gases are intensely heated, and they move with fearful velocity. they tear off great masses of stone, which the resultant energy disturbances, pressure, gas, and friction, redden with heat. the mixture of gases from the decomposed water is in large amount, is burning and exploding, and in this fiery furnace amid such convulsions as have been described, the adjacent earth substance is fused, and even clay is melted, and carried on with the fiery blast. finally the current reaches the earth's surface through the funnel passage, the apex of which is a volcano--the blast described a volcanic eruption." "one thing is still obscure in my mind," i said. "you assert that the reaction which follows the contact of the flowing water and metallic bases in the crevice below us liberates the explosive gases, and also volumes of vapor of water. these gases rush, you say, and produce a volcanic eruption in a distant part of the crust of the earth. i can not understand why they do not rush backward as well, and produce another eruption in kentucky. surely the pressure of a gas in confinement is the same in all directions, is it not?" "yes," he replied, "but the conditions in the different directions are dissimilar. in the direction of the kentucky cavern, the passage is tortuous, and often contracts to a narrow crevice. in one place near the cavern's mouth, as you will remember, we had to dive beneath the surface of a stream of water. that stratum of water as effectually closed the exit from the earth as the stopper prevents water escaping from a bottle. between the point we now occupy and that water stopper, rest thousands of miles of quiescent air. the inertia of a thousand miles of air is great beyond your comprehension. to move that column of air by pushing against this end of it, and thus shoving it instantly out of the other end, would require greater force than would burst the one hundred and fifty miles of inelastic stone above us. then, the friction of the sides is another thing that prevents its accomplishment. while a gradually applied pressure would in time overcome both the inertia of the air and the friction of the stone passages, it would take a supply of energy greater than you can imagine to start into motion the elastic mass that stands as solid and immovable as a sentinel of adamant, between the cavern you entered, and the spot we now occupy. time and energy combined would be able to accomplish the result, but not under present conditions. "in the other direction a broad open channel reaches directly to and connects with the volcanic shaft. through this channel the air is in motion, moving towards the extinct crater, being supplied from another surface orifice. the gases liberated in the manner i have described, naturally follow the line of least resistance. they turn at once away from the inert mass of air that rests behind us, and move with increasing velocity towards the volcanic exit. before the pressure that might be exerted towards the kentucky cavern would have more than compressed the intervening column of air enough to raise the water of a well from its usual level to the surface of the earth, the velocity in the other direction would have augmented prodigiously, and with its increased rapidity a suction would follow more than sufficient to consume the increasingly abundant gases from behind." "volcanoes are therefore local, and the interior of the earth is not a molten mass as i have been taught," i exclaimed. he answered: "if men were far enough along in their thought journey (for the evolution of the mental side of man is a journey in the world of thought), they would avoid such theories as that which ascribes a molten interior to the earth. volcanoes are superficial. they are as a rule, when in activity but little blisters or excoriations upon the surface of the earth, although their underground connections may be extensive. some of them are in a continual fret with frequent eruptions, others, like the one under consideration, awaken only after great periods of time. the entire surface of this globe has been or will be subject to volcanic action. the phenomenon is one of the steps in the world-making, matter-leveling process. when the deposit of substances that i have indicated, and of which much of the earth's interior is composed, the bases of salt, potash, and lime and clay is exhausted, there will be no further volcanic action from this cause, and in some places, this deposit has already disappeared, or is covered deeply by layers of earth that serve as a protection." "is water, then, the universal cause of volcanoes?" "water and air together cause most of them. the action of water and its vapor produces from metallic space dust, limestone, and clay soil, potash and soda salts. this perfectly rational and natural action must continue as long as there is water above, and free elementary bases in contact with the earth bubbles. volcanoes, earthquakes, geysers, mud springs, and hot springs, are the natural result of that reaction. mountains are thereby forming by upheavals from beneath, and the corresponding surface valleys are consequently filling up, either by the slow deposit of the matter from the saline water of hot springs, or by the sudden eruption of a new or presumably extinct volcano." "what would happen if a crevice in the bottom of the ocean should conduct the waters of the ocean into a deposit of metallic bases?" "that often occurs," was the reply; "a volcanic wave results, and a volcano may thus rise from the ocean's depths." "is there any danger to the earth itself? may it not be riven into fragments from such a convulsion?" i hesitatingly questioned. "no; while the configuration of continents is continually being altered, each disturbance must be practically superficial, and of limited area." "but," i persisted, "the rigid, solid earth may be blown to fragments; in such convulsions a result like that seems not impossible." "you argue from an erroneous hypothesis. the earth is neither rigid nor solid." "true," i answered. "if it were solid i could not be a hundred miles beneath its surface in conversation with another being; but there can not be many such cavities as that which we are now traversing, and they can not surely extend entirely through its mass; the great weight of the superincumbent material would crush together the strongest materials, if a globe as large as our earth were extensively honeycombed in this manner." "quite the contrary," he replied; "and here let me, for the first time, enlighten you as to the interior structure of the terrestrial globe. the earth-forming principle consists of an invisible sphere of energy that, spinning through space, supports the space dust which collects on it, as dust on a bubble. by gradual accumulation of substance on that sphere a hollow ball has resulted, on the outer surface of which you have hitherto dwelt. the crust of the earth is comparatively thin, not more than eight hundred miles in average thickness, and is held in position by the central sphere of energy that now exists at a distance about seven hundred miles beneath the ocean level. the force inherent to this sphere manifests itself upon the matter which it supports on both sides, rendering matter the lighter the nearer it lies to the center sphere. in other words, let me say to you: the crust, or shell, which i have just described as being but about eight hundred miles in thickness, is firm and solid on both its convex and concave surface, but gradually loses in weight, whether we penetrate from the outer surface toward the center, or from any point of the inner surface towards the outside, until at the central sphere matter has no weight at all. do you conceive my meaning?" "yes," i replied; "i understand you perfectly." after a pause my pilot asked me abruptly: "what do you most desire?" the question caused my mind to revert instantly to my old home on the earth above me, and although i felt the hope of returning to it spring up in my heart, the force of habit caused me involuntarily to answer, "more light!" "more light being your desire, you shall receive it." obedient to his touch, the bow of the boat turned from the gulf we had been considering towards the center of the lake; the responsive craft leaped forward, and in an instant the obsidian parapet disappeared behind us. on and over the trackless waste of glass-like water we sped, until the dead silence became painfully oppressive, and i asked: "whither are we bound?" "towards the east." the well-timed answer raised my spirits; i thought again that in this man, despite his repulsive shape, i beheld a friend, a brother; suspicion vanished, and my courage rose. he touched the lever, and the craft, subject to his will, nearly rose from the water, and sped with amazing velocity, as was evident from the appearance of the luminous road behind us. so rapid was our flight that the wake of the boat seemed as if made of rigid parallel lines that disappeared in the distance, too quick for the eye to catch the tremor. continuing his conversation, my companion informed me that he had now directed the bark toward a point east of the spot where we struck the shore, after crossing the lake, in order that we might continue our journey downward, diagonally to the under surface of the earth crust. "this recent digression from our journey proper," said he, "has been made to acquaint you with a subject, regarding which you have exhibited a curiosity, and about which you have heretofore been misinformed; now you understand more clearly part of the philosophy of volcanoes and earthquakes. you have yet much to learn in connection with allied phenomena, but this study of the crude exhibition of force-disturbed matter, the manipulation of which is familiar to man under the above names, is an introduction to the more wonderful study destined yet to be a part of your field, an investigation of quiescent matter, and pure motion." "i can not comprehend you," i replied, "as i stated once before when you referred to what you designated as pure motion." chapter xxxii. matter is retarded motion. "it is possible--is it not?--for you to imagine a continuous volley of iron balls passing near you in one line, in a horizontal direction, with considerable velocity. suppose that a pane of glass were to be gradually moved so that a corner of it would be struck by one of the balls; then the entire sheet of glass would be shivered by the concussion, even though the bullet struck but a single spot of glass, the point of contact covering only a small area. imagine now that the velocity of the volley of bullets be increased a thousand fold; then a plate of glass thrust into their track would be smoothly cut, as though with a file that would gnaw its way without producing a single radiating fracture. a person standing near the volley would now hear a deep purr or growling sound, caused by the friction between the bullets and the air. increase gradually the rapidity of their motion, and this growl would become more acute, passing from a deep, low murmur, into one less grave, and as the velocity increased, the tone would become sharper, and at last piercingly shrill. increase now the rapidity of the train of bullets again, and again the notes would decrease in turn, passing back again successively through the several keys that had preceded, and finally would reach the low growl which first struck the ear, and with a further increase of speed silence would ensue, silence evermore, regardless of increasing velocity.[ ] from these hundreds of miles in a second at which the volley is now passing, let the rapidity be augmented a thousand times, reaching in their flight into millions of miles each second, and to the eye, from the point where the sound disappeared, as the velocity increased, a dim redness would appear, a glow just perceptible, indicating to the sense of sight, by a continuous line, the track of the moving missiles. to all appearance, the line would be as uniform as an illuminated pencil mark, even though the several integral bullets of the trail might be separated one from another by miles of space. let a pane of glass now be thrust across their track, and from the point of contact a shower of sparks would fly, and the edges of glass close to either side of the orifice would be shown, on withdrawing the glass, to have been fused. conceive now that the velocity of the bullets be doubled and trebled, again and again, the line of red light becomes brighter, then brilliant, and finally as the velocity increases, at a certain point pure white results, and to man's sense the trail would now be a continuous something, as solid as a bar of metal if at a white heat, and (even if the bullets were a thousand miles apart) man could not bring proof of their separate existence to his senses. that portion of a pane of glass or other substance, even steel or adamant, which should cross its track now would simply melt away, the portion excised and carried out of that pathway neither showing itself as scintillations, nor as fragments of matter. the solid would instantly liquefy, and would spread itself as a thin film over the surface of each ball of that white, hot mass of fleeing metal, now to all essential conditions as uniform as a bar of iron. madly increase the velocity to millions upon millions of miles per second, and the heat will disappear gradually as did the sound, while the bright light will pass backward successively through the primary shades of color that are now known to man, beginning with violet, and ending with red, and as the red fades away the train of bullets will disappear to the sense of man. neither light nor sound now accompanies the volley, neither the human eye nor the human ear can perceive its presence. drop a pane of glass or any other object edgewise through it, and it gives to the sense of man no evidence; the molecules of the glass separate from in front to close in from behind, and the moving train passes through it as freely as light, leaving the surface of the glass unaffected." [ ] a scientific critic seems to think that the shrill cry would cease instantly and not gradually. however, science has been at fault more than once, and i do not care to take liberties with this statement.--j. u. l. "hold," i interrupted; "that would be as one quality of matter passing through another quality of matter without disturbance to either, and it is a law in physics that two substances can not occupy the same space at the same time." "that law holds good as man understands the subject, but bullets are no longer matter. motion of mass was first changed into motion of molecules, and motion of molecule became finally augmented into motion of free force entities as the bullets disintegrated into molecular corpuscles, and then were dissociated, atoms resulting. at this last point the sense of vision, and of touch, ceased to be affected by that moving column (neither matter nor force), and at the next jump in velocity the atoms themselves disappeared, and free intangible motion resulted--nothing, vacancy. "this result is the all-pervading spirit of space (the ether of mankind), as solid as adamant and as mobile as vacuity. if you can reverse the order of this phenomenon, and imagine an irregular retardation of the rapidity of such atomic motion, you can read the story of the formation of the material universe. follow the chain backward, and with the decrease of velocity, motion becomes tangible matter again, and in accordance with conditions governing the change of motion into matter, from time to time the various elements successively appear. the planets may grow without and within, and ethereal space can generate elemental dirt. if you can conceive of an intermediate condition whereby pure space motion becomes partly tangible, and yet is not gross enough to be earthy matter, you can imagine how such forces as man is acquainted with, light, heat, electricity, magnetism, or gravity even are produced, for these are also disturbances in space motion. it should be easily understood that, according to the same simple principle, other elements and unknown forces as well, now imperceptible to man's limited faculties, could be and are formed outside and inside his field of perception." "i fear that i can not comprehend all this," i answered. "so i feared, and perhaps i have given you this lesson too soon, although some time ago you asked me to teach you concerning the assertion that electricity, light, heat, magnetism, and gravity are disturbances, and you said, 'disturbances of what?' think the lesson over, and you will perceive that it is easy. let us hope that the time will come when we will be able to glance beneath the rough, material, earth surface knowledge that man has acquired, and experience the mind expansion that leads to the blissful insight possessed by superior beings who do not have to contend with the rasping elements that encompass all who dwell upon the surface of the earth." i pondered over these words, and a vague light, an undefined, inexpressible something that i could not put into words broke into my mind; i inferred that we were destined to meet with persons, or existences, possessed of new senses, of a mind development that man had not reached, and i was on the point of questioning my pilot when the motion of the boat was suspended, land appeared ahead, we drew up to it, and disembarked. lifting the boat from the water my guide placed it on land at the edge of the motionless lake, and we resumed our journey. the scenery seemed but little changed from that of the latter part of our previous line of travel down the inclined plane of the opposite side of the lake that we had crossed. the direction was still downward after leaving the high ridge that bordered the edge of the lake, the floor of the cavern being usually smooth, although occasionally it was rough and covered with stony debris. the mysterious light grew perceptibly brighter as we progressed, the fog-like halo previously mentioned became less dense, and the ring of obscurity widened rapidly. i could distinctly perceive objects at a great distance. i turned to my companion to ask why this was, and he replied: "because we are leaving one of the undiscovered conditions of the upper atmosphere that disturbs the sunlight." "do you say that the atmosphere is composed of substances unknown to man?" "yes; several of them are gases, and others are qualities of space condition, neither gas, liquid, nor solid.[ ] one particularly interferes with light in its passage. it is an entity that is not moved by the motion of the air, and is unequally distributed over the earth's surface. as we ascend above the earth it decreases, so it does as we descend into it. it is not vapor of water, is neither smoke, nor a true gas, and is as yet sensible to man only by its power of modifying the intensity of light. it has no color, is chemically inactive, and yet modifies the sun's rays so as to blot objects from view at a comparatively small distance from a person on the face of the earth. that this fact is known to man is evident from the knowledge he possesses of the difference in the power of his organs of vision at different parts of the earth. his sight is especially acute on the table lands of the western territories." [ ] this has since been partly supported by the discovery of the element argon. however, the statement has been recorded many years. miss ella burbige, stenographer, newport, ky., copied the original in ; mr. s. d. rouse, attorney, covington, ky., read it in ; mr. russell errett, editor of the christian standard, in , and mr. h. c. meader, president of the american ticket brokers' association, in . it seems proper to make this explanation in order to absolve the author from any charge of plagiarism, for each of these persons will recall distinctly this improbable [then] assertion.--j. u. l. "i have been told," i answered, "that vapor of water causes this obscuration, or absorption, of light." "vapor of water, unless in strata of different densities, is absolutely transparent, and presents no obstacle to the passage of light," he said. "when vapor obstructs light it is owing to impurities contained in it, to currents of varying densities, or wave motions, or to a mechanical mixture of condensed water and air, whereby multitudes of tiny globular water surfaces are produced. pure vapor of water, free from motion, is passive to the sunlight." "i can scarcely believe that a substance such as you describe, or that any constituent of the air, can have escaped the perception of the chemist," i replied. in, as i thought, a facetious manner he repeated after me the word "chemist," and continued: "have chemists detected the ether of aristotle, that you have mentioned, and i have defined, which scientists nevertheless accept pervades all space and every description of matter, and that i have told you is really matter itself changed into ultra atomic motion? have chemists explained why one object is transparent, and another of equal weight and solidity is opaque? have chemists told you why vermillion is red and indigo is blue (the statement that they respectively reflect these rays of light is not an explanation of the cause for such action)? have chemists told you why the prism disarranges or distorts sunlight to produce the abnormal hues that men assume compose elementary rays of light? have chemists explained anything concerning the why or wherefore of the attributes of matter, or force, or even proven that the so-called primary forms of matter, or elements, are not compounds? upon the contrary, does not the evolution that results in the recorded discoveries of the chemist foretell, or at least indicate, the possible future of the art, and promise that surrounding mysteries are yet to be developed and expanded into open truths, thus elaborating hidden forces; and that other forms of matter and unseen force expressions, are destined to spring into existence as the sciences progress? the chemist of to-day is groping in darkness; he is a novice as compared with the elaborated chemist of the near future; the imperfectly seen of the present, the silent and unsuspected, will become distinctly visible in a time that is to come, and a brightening of the intellect by these successively upward steps, up stairs of science, will, if science serves herself best, broaden the mind and give power to the imagination, resulting finally in--" he hesitated. "go on," i said. "the passage of mortal man, with the faculties of man intact, into communion with the spirit world." chapter xxxiii. "a study of science is a study of god."--communing with angels. "this is incredible," i exclaimed. "you need not be astonished," he answered. "is there any argument that can be offered to controvert the assertion that man is ignorant of many natural laws?" "i can offer none." "is there any doubt that a force, distinct and separate from matter, influences matter and vivifies it into a living personality?" "i do not deny that there is such force." "what then should prevent this force from existing separate from the body if it be capable of existing in it?" "i can not argue against such a position." "if, as is hoped and believed by the majority of mankind, even though some try to deny the fact, it is possible for man to exist as an association of earth matters, linked to a personal spirit force, the soul, and for the spirit force, after the death of the body, to exist independent of the grosser attributes of man, free from his mortal body, is it not reasonable to infer that the spirit, while it is still in man and linked to his body, may be educated and developed so as, under favorable conditions, to meet and communicate with other spirits that have been previously liberated from earthly bondage?" "i submit," i answered; "but you shock my sensibilities when you thus imply that by cold, scientific investigation we can place ourselves in a position to meet the unseen spirit world--" it was now my turn to hesitate. "go on," he said. "to commune with the angels," i answered. "a study of true science is a study of god," he continued. "angels are organizations natural in accordance with god's laws. they appear superhuman, because of our ignorance concerning the higher natural forces. they exist in exact accordance with the laws that govern the universe; but as yet the attraction between clay and clay-bound spirit is so great as to prevent the enthralled soul of man from communicating with them. the faith of the religionist is an example of the unquenchable feeling that creates a belief as well as a hope that there is a self-existence separate from earthy substances. the scoffing scientific agnostic, working for other objects, will yet astonish himself by elaborating a method that will practically demonstrate these facts, and then empirical religion, as exemplified by the unquestioning faithful believer, and systematic science, as typified in the experimental materialist, will meet on common ground." chapter xxxiv. i cease to breathe, and yet live. during this conversation we had been rapidly walking, or i should better say advancing, for we no longer walked as men do, but skipped down into the earth, down, ever downward. there were long periods of silence, in which i was engaged in meditating over the problems that successively demanded solution, and even had i desired to do so i could have kept no record of time; days, or even weeks, may have been consumed in this journey. neither have i any method of judging of the rapidity of our motion. i was sensible of a marked decrease in the amount of muscular energy required to carry us onward, and i realized that my body was quite exempt from weariness. motion became restful instead of exhausting, and it seemed to me that the ratio of the loss of weight, as shown by our free movements, in proportion to the distance we traversed, was greater than formerly. the slightest exhibition of propelling force cast us rapidly forward. instead of the laborious, short step of upper earth, a single leap would carry us many yards. a slight spring, and with our bodies in space, we would skip several rods, alighting gently, to move again as easily. i marveled, for, although i had been led to anticipate something unusual, the practical evidence was wonderfully impressive, and i again questioned my guide. "we are now nearing what physicists would call the center of gravity," he replied, "and our weight is rapidly diminishing. this is in exact accordance with the laws that govern the force called gravitation, which, at the earth's surface, is apparently uniform, though no instrument known to man can demonstrate its exact variation within the field man occupies. men have not, as yet, been in a position to estimate this change, although it is known that mountains attract objects, and that a change in weight as we descend into the earth is perceptible; but to evolve the true law, observation, at a distance of at least ten miles beneath the surface of the ocean is necessary, and man, being a creature whose motions are confined to a thin, horizontal skin of earth, has never been one mile beneath its surface, and in consequence his opportunities for comparison are extremely limited." [illustration: "we would skip several rods, alighting gently."] "i have been taught," i replied, "that the force of gravitation decreases until the center of the earth is reached, at which point a body is without weight; and i can scarcely understand how such positive statements from scientific men can be far from the truth." "it is supposed by your surface men that the maximum of weight is to be found at one-sixth the distance beneath the surface of the earth, and therefrom decreases until at the center it is nothing at all," he replied. "this hypothesis, though a stagger toward the right, is far from the truth, but as near as could be expected, when we consider the data upon which men base their calculations. were it not for the purpose of controverting erroneous views, men would have little incentive to continue their investigations, and as has been the rule in science heretofore, the truth will, in time, appear in this case. one generation of students disproves the accepted theories of that which precedes, all working to eliminate error, all adding factors of error, and all together moving toward a common goal, a grand generalization, that as yet can not be perceived. and still each series of workers is overlooking phenomena that, though obvious, are yet unperceived, but which will make evident to future scientists the mistakes of the present. as an example of the manner in which facts are thus overlooked, in your journey you have been impressed with certain surprising external conditions, or surroundings, and yet are oblivious to conditions more remarkable in your own body. so it is with scientists. they overlook prominent facts that stare them boldly in the face, facts that are so conspicuous as to be invisible by reason of their very nearness." "this statement i can not disprove, and therefore must admit under protest. where there is so much that appears mysterious i may have overlooked some things, but i can scarcely accept that, in ignorance, i have passed conditions in my own organization so marked as this decrease in gravity which has so strikingly been called to my attention." "you have, and to convince you i need only say that you have nearly ceased to breathe, and are unconscious of the fact." i stopped short, in momentary alarm, and now that my mind was directed to the fact, i became aware that i did not desire to breathe, and that my chest had ceased to heave with the alternate inhalation and exhalation of former times. i closed my lips firmly, and for a long period there was no desire for breath, then a slight involuntary inhalation followed, and an exhalation, scarcely noticeable, succeeded by a great interval of inaction. i impulsively turned my face toward the passage we had trod; a feeling of alarm possessed me, an uncontrollable, inexpressible desire to flee from the mysterious earth-being beside me, to return to men, and be an earth-surface man again, and i started backward through the chamber we had passed. the guide seized me by the hand, "hold, hold," he cried; "where would you go, fickle mortal?" "to the surface," i shouted; "to daylight again. unhand me, unearthly creature, abnormal being, man or devil; have you not inveigled me far enough into occult realms that should be forever sealed from mankind? have you not taken from me all that men love or cherish, and undone every tie of kith or kin? have you not led me into paths that the imagination of the novelist dare not conjure, and into experiences that pen in human hand would not venture to describe as possible, until i now stand with my feet on the boundary line that borders vacancy, and utter loss of weight; with a body nearly lost as a material substance, verging into nothing, and lastly with breath practically extinguished, i say, and repeat, is it not time that i should hesitate and pause in my reckless career?" "it is not time," he answered. "when will that hour come?" i asked in desperation, and i trembled as he replied: "when the three great lights are closed." [illustration: "an uncontrollable, inexpressible desire to flee."] chapter xxxv. "a certain point within a sphere."--men are as parasites on the roof of earth. i realized again, as i had so many times before, that it was useless for me to rebel. "the self-imposed mystery of a sacrificed life lies before me," i murmured, "and there is no chance to retrace my footsteps. the 'beyond' of the course that i have voluntarily selected, and sworn to follow, is hidden; i must nerve myself to pursue it to the bitter end, and so help me god, and keep me steadfast." "well said," he replied; "and since you have so wisely determined, i am free to inform you that these new obligations, like those you have heretofore taken, contain nothing which can conflict with your duty to god, your country, your neighbor, or yourself. in considering the phenomena presented by the suspension of the act of breathing, it should occur to you that where little labor is to be performed, little consumption of energy is required. where there is such a trifling destruction of the vital force (not mind force) as at present is the case with us, it requires but slight respiration to retain the normal condition of the body. on earth's surface the act of respiration alone consumes by far the larger proportion of vital energy, and the muscular exertion involved thereby necessitates a proportionate amount of breathing in order that breath itself may continue. this act of respiration is the result of one of the conditions of surface earth life, and consumes most of the vital force. if men would think of this, they would understand how paradoxical it is for them to breathe in order to live, when the very act of respiration wears away their bodies and shortens their lives more than all else they have to do, and without adding to their mental or physical constitution in the least. men are conversant with physical death as a constant result of suspended respiration, and with respiration as an accompaniment of life, which ever constant and connected conditions lead them to accept that the act of breathing is a necessity of mortal life. in reality, man occupies an unfortunate position among other undeveloped creatures of external earth; he is an animal, and is constitutionally framed like the other animals about him. he is exposed to the warring elements, to the vicious attacks of savage beasts and insidious parasites, and to the inroads of disease. he is a prey to the elementary vicissitudes of the undesirable exposure in which he exists upon the outer surface of our globe, where all is war, even among the forces of nature about him. these conditions render his lot an unhappy one indeed, and in ignorance he overlooks the torments of the weary, rasping, endless slavery of respiration in the personal struggle he has to undergo in order to retain a brief existence as an organized being. have you never thought of the connected tribulations that the wear and tear of respiration alone inflict upon the human family? the heaving of the chest, the circulation of the blood, the throbbing of the heart, continue from mortal birth until death. the heart of man forces about two and one-half ounces of blood with each pulsation. at seventy beats per minute this amounts to six hundred and fifty-six pounds per hour, or nearly eight tons per day. the lungs respire over one thousand times an hour, and move over three thousand gallons of air a day. multiply these amounts by three hundred and sixty-five, and then by seventy, and you have partly computed the enormous life-work of the lungs and heart of an adult. over two hundred thousand tons of blood, and seventy-five million gallons of air have been moved by the vital force. the energy thus consumed is dissipated. no return is made for the expenditure of this life force. during the natural life of man, more energy is consequently wasted in material transformation resulting from the motion of heart and lungs, than would be necessary to sustain the purely vital forces alone for a thousand years. besides, the act of respiration which man is compelled to perform in his exposed position, necessitates the consumption of large amounts of food, in order to preserve the animal heat, and replace the waste of a material body that in turn is worn out by these very movements. add this waste of energy to the foregoing, and then you will surely perceive that the possible life of man is also curtailed to another and greater degree in the support of the digestive part of his organism. his spirit is a slave to his body; his lungs and heart, on which he imagines life depends, are unceasing antagonists of life. that his act of breathing is now a necessity upon the surface of the earth, where the force of gravity presses so heavily, and where the elements have men at their command, and show him no mercy, i will not deny; but it is exasperating to contemplate such a waste of energy, and corresponding loss of human life." "you must admit, however, that it is necessary?" i queried. "no; only to an extent. the natural life of man should, and yet will be, doubled, trebled, multiplied a dozen, yes a thousand fold." i stepped in front of him; we stood facing each other. "tell me," i cried, "how men can so improve their condition as to lengthen their days to the limit you name, and let me return to surface earth a carrier of the glad tidings." he shook his head. i dropped on my knees before him. [illustration: "i dropped on my knees before him."] "i implore you in behalf of that unfortunate humanity, of which i am a member, give me this boon. i promise to return to you and do your bidding. whatever may be my subsequent fate, i promise to acquiesce therein willingly." he raised me to my feet. "be of good cheer," he said, "and in the proper time you may return to the surface of this rind of earth, a carrier of great and good news to men." "shall i teach them of what you have shown me?" i asked. "yes; in part you will be a forerunner, but before you obtain the information that is necessary to the comfort of mankind you will have to visit surface earth again, and return again, perhaps repeatedly. you must prove yourself as men are seldom proven. the journey you have commenced is far from its conclusion, and you may not be equal to its subsequent trials; prepare yourself, therefore, for a series of events that may unnerve you. if you had full confidence and faith in your guide, you would have less cause to fear the result, but your suspicious human nature can not overcome the shrinking sensation that is natural to those who have been educated as you have been amid the changing vicissitudes of the earth's surface, and you can not but be incredulous by reason of that education." then i stopped as i observed before me a peculiar fungus--peculiar because unlike all others i had seen. the convex part of its bowl was below, and the great head, as an inverted toadstool, stood upright on a short, stem-like pedestal. the gills within were of a deep green color, and curved out from the center in the form of a spiral. this form, however, was not the distinguishing feature, for i had before observed specimens that were spiral in structure. the extraordinary peculiarity was that the gills were covered with fruit. this fruit was likewise green in color, each spore, or berry, being from two to three inches in diameter, and honeycombed on the surface, corrugated most beautifully. i stopped, leaned over the edge of the great bowl, and plucked a specimen of the fruit. it seemed to be covered with a hard, transparent shell, and to be nearly full of a clear, green liquid. i handled and examined it in curiosity, at which my guide seemed not to be surprised. regarding me attentively, he said: "what is it that impels a mortal towards this fruit?" "it is curious," i said; "nothing more." "as for that," said he, "it is not curious at all; the seed of the lobelia of upper earth is more curious, because, while it is as exquisitely corrugated, it is also microscopically small. in the second place you err when you say it is simply curious, 'nothing more,' for no mortal ever yet passed that bowl without doing exactly as you have done. the vein of curiosity, were it that alone that impels you, could not but have an exception." then he cracked the shell of the fruit by striking it on the stony floor, and carefully opened the shell, handing me one of the halves filled with a green fluid. as he did so he spoke the single word, "drink," and i did as directed. he stood upright before me, and as i looked him in the face he seemingly, without a reason, struck off into a dissertation, apparently as distinct from our line of thought as a disconnected subject could be, as follows: [illustration: "handing me one of the halves, he spoke the single word, drink."] chapter xxxvi. drunkenness.--the drinks of man. "intemperance has been the vice of every people, and is prevalent in all climes, notwithstanding that intoxicants, properly employed, may serve humanity's highest aims. beginning early in the history of a people, the disease increases with the growth of a nation, until, at last, unless the knife is used, civilization perishes. a lowly people becomes more depraved as the use of liquor increases; a cultivated people passes backward into barbarism with the depravities that come from dissipation. here nations meet, and individuals sink to a common level. no drinking man is strong enough to say, 'i can not become dissipated;' no nation is rich and cultivated enough to view the debauch of its people without alarm. "the disgusting habit of the drunken african finds its counterpart in the lascivious wine-bibber of aristocratic society. to picture the indecencies of society, that may be charged to debauchery, when the grecian and roman empires were at the height of greatness, would obscure the orgies of the barbarous african, and make preferable the brutality of the drunken american indian. intemperance brings men to the lowest level, and holds its power over all lands and all nations." "did the aborigines know how to make intoxicants, and were barbarians intemperate before contact with civilized nations?" "yes." "but i have understood that drunkenness is a vice inherent only in civilized people; are not you mistaken?" "no. every clime, unless it be the far north where men are scarcely more than animals, furnishes intoxicants, and all people use them. i will tell you part of this record of nations. "the nubians make a barley beer which they call bouze, and also a wine, from the palm tree. the savages of africa draw the clear, sweet juice of the palm oil tree into a gourd, in the morning, and by night it becomes a violent intoxicant. the natives of the malayan archipelago ferment and drink the sap of the flower stems of the cocoanut. the tartar tribes make an intoxicating drink from mare's milk, called koomis. in south america the natives drink a vile compound, called cana, distilled from sugar cane; and in the sandwich islands, the shrub kava supplies the intoxicant kava-kava, drunk by all the inhabitants, from king to slave, and mother to child. in the heart of africa, cannibal tribes make legyce of a cereal, and indulge in wild orgies over their barbaric cup. in north america the indians, before columbus discovered america, made an intoxicating drink of the sap of the maple tree. the national drink of the mexicans is pulque, a beastly intoxicant, prepared from the agave americana. mead is an alcoholic drink, made of honey, and used in many countries. in china wine was indulged in from the earliest day, and in former times, had it not been for the influence of their philosophers, especially confucius, who foresaw the end, the chinese nation would have perished from drunkenness. opium, that fearful enslaver of millions of human beings, is in every sense a narcotic intoxicant, and stands conspicuous as an agent, capable of being either a friend, a companion, or a master, as man permits. history fails to indicate the date of its introduction to humanity. in south america the leaf of the cocoa plant is a stimulant scarcely less to be dreaded than opium. the juice of a species of asclepias produces the intoxicant soma, used once by the brahmins, not only as a drink, but also in sacrificial and religious ceremonies. many different flavored liquors made of palm, cocoanuts, sugar, pepper, honey, spices, etc., were used by native hindoos, and as intoxicants have been employed from the earliest days in india. the vedic people were fearfully dissipated, and page after page of that wonderful sacred book, the rigs-veda, is devoted to the habit of drunkenness. the worst classes of drunkards of india used indian hemp to make bhang, or combined the deadly narcotic stramonium with arrack, a native beer, to produce a poisonous intoxicant. in that early day the inhabitants of india and china were fearfully depraved drunkards, and but for the reforms instituted by their wise men, must have perished as a people. parahaoma, or 'homa,' is an intoxicant made from a lost plant that is described as having yellow blossoms, used by the ancient dissolute persians from the day of zoroaster. cannabis sativa produces an intoxicant that in turkey is known as hadschy, in arabia and india as hashish, and to the hottentots as dacha, and serves as a drunkard's food in other lands. the fruit of the juniper produces gin, and the fermented juice of the grape, or malt liquors, in all civilized countries are the favorite intoxicants, their origin being lost in antiquity. other substances, such as palm, apples, dates, and pomegranates have also been universally employed as drink producers. "go where you will, man's tendency seems to be towards the bowl that inebriates, and yet it is not the use but the abuse of intoxicants that man has to dread. could he be temperate, exhilarants would befriend." "but here," i replied, "in this underground land, where food is free, and existence possible without an effort, this shameful vice has no existence. here there is no incentive to intemperance, and even though man were present with his inherent passion for drink, he could not find means to gratify his appetite." "ah," my guide replied, "that is an error. why should this part of the earth prove an exception to the general rule? nature always supplies the means, and man's instinct teaches him how to prepare an intoxicant. so long as man is human his passions will rule. if you should prove unequal to the task you have undertaken, if you shrink from your journey, and turn back, the chances are you will fail to reach the surface of the earth. you will surely stop in the chamber which we now approach, and which i have now prepared you to enter, and will then become one of a band of earth drunkards; having all the lower passions of a mortal you will yet be lost to the virtues of man. in this chamber those who falter and turn back, stop and remain for all time, sinking until they become lower in the human scale than any drunkard on earth. without any restraining influence, without a care, without necessity of food or incentive to exertion, in this habitation where heat and cold are unknown, and no motive for self-preservation exists, they turn their thoughts toward the ruling passion of mankind and--listen! do you not hear them? listen!" chapter xxxvii. the drunkard's voice. then i noticed a medley of sounds seemingly rising out of the depths beyond us. the noise was not such as to lead me to infer that persons were speaking coherently, but rather resembled a jargon such as might come from a multitude of persons talking indiscriminately and aimlessly. it was a constant volley, now rising and now falling in intensity, as though many persons regardless of one another were chanting different tunes in that peculiar sing-song tone often characteristic of the drunkard. as we advanced, the noise became louder and more of a medley, until at last we were surrounded by confusion. then a single voice rose up strong and full, and at once, from about us, close to us, yes, against our very persons, cries and shrieks unearthly smote my ears. i could distinguish words of various tongues, english, irish, german, and many unfamiliar and disjointed cries, imprecations, and maledictions. the cavern about seemed now to be resonant with voices,--shrieks, yells, and maniacal cries commingled,--and yet no form appeared. as we rushed onward, for now my guide grasped my arm tightly and drew me rapidly down the cavern floor, the voices subsided, and at length sounded as if behind us. now however it seemed as though innumerable arrows, each possessed of a whistle or tone of its own, were in wave-like gusts shrieking by us. coming from in front, they burst in the rear. stopping to listen, i found that a connection could be traced between the screech of the arrow-like shriek, and a drunkard's distant voice. it seemed as though a rocket made of an escaping voice would scream past, and bursting in the cavern behind, liberate a human cry. now and then all but a few would subside, to burst out with increased violence, as if a flight of rockets each with a cry of its own would rush past, to be followed after their explosion by a medley of maniacal cries, songs, shrieks, and groans, commingled. it was as though a shell containing a voice that escaped slowly as by pressure from an orifice, were fired past my ears, to explode and liberate the voice within my hearing. the dreadful utterance was not an echo, was not hallucination, it was real. i stopped and looked at my guide in amazement. he explained: "did you not sometime back experience that your own voice was thrown from your body?" "yes," i answered. "these crazed persons or rather experiences depraved, are shouting in the cavern beyond," he said. "they are in front; their voices pass us to burst into expression in the rear." then, even as he spoke, from a fungus stalk near us, a hideous creature unfolded itself, and shambled to my side. it had the frame of a man, and yet it moved like a serpent, writhing towards me. i stepped back in horror, but the tall, ungainly creature reached out an arm and grasped me tightly. leaning over he placed his hideous mouth close to my ear, and moaned: "back, back, go thou back." i made no reply, being horror-stricken. "back, i say, back to earth, or--" he hesitated, and still possessed of fear, and unable to reply, i was silent. "then go on," he said, "on to your destiny, unhappy man," and slinking back to the fungus whence he arose, he disappeared from sight. "come," said my guide, "let us pass the drunkard's den. this was but a straggler; nerve yourself, for his companions will soon surround us." chapter xxxviii. the drunkards' den. as we progressed the voices in our rear became more faint, and yet the whistling volleys of screeching voice bombs passed us as before. i shuddered in anticipation of the sight that was surely to meet our gaze, and could not but tremble for fear. then i stopped and recoiled, for at my very feet i beheld a huge, living human head. it rested on the solid rock, and had i not stopped suddenly when i did, i would have kicked it at the next leap. the eyes of the monster were fixed in supplication on my face; the great brow indicated intelligence, the finely-cut mouth denoted refinement, the well-modeled head denoted brain, but the whole constituted a monster. the mouth opened, and a whizzing, arrow voice swept past, and was lost in the distance. "what is this?" i gasped. "the fate of a drunkard," my guide replied. "this was once an intelligent man, but now he has lost his body, and enslaved his soul, in the den of drink beyond us, and has been brought here by his comrades, who thus rid themselves of his presence. here he must rest eternally. he can not move, he has but one desire, drink, and that craving, deeper than life, can not be satiated." "but he desires to speak; speak lower, man, or head of man, if you wish me to know your wants," i said, and leaned toward him. then the monster whispered, and i caught the words: "back, back, go thou back!" i made no reply. "back i say, back to earth or--" still i remained silent. "then go on," he said; "on to your destiny, unhappy man." "this is horrible," i muttered. "come," said the guide, "let us proceed." and we moved onward. now i perceived many such heads about us, all resting upright on the stony floor. some were silent, others were shouting, others still were whispering and endeavoring to attract my attention. as we hurried on i saw more and more of these abnormal creatures. some were in rows, resting against each other, leaving barely room for us to pass between, but at last, much to my relief, we left them behind us. but i found that i had no cause for congratulation, when i felt myself clutched by a powerful hand--a hand as large as that of a man fifty feet in height. i looked about expecting to see a gigantic being, but instead beheld a shrunken pigmy. the whole man seemed but a single hand--a brobdingnag hand affixed to the body of a liliputian. "do not struggle," said the guide; "listen to what he wishes to impart." i leaned over, placing my ear close to the mouth of the monstrosity. "back, back, go thou back," it whispered. "what have i to fear?" i asked. "back, i say, back to earth, or--" "or what?" i said. "then go on; on to your destiny, unhappy man," he answered, and the hand loosed its grasp. my guide drew me onward. then, from about us, huge hands arose; on all sides they waved in the air; some were closed and were shaken as clenched fists, others moved aimlessly with spread fingers, others still pointed to the passage we had traversed, and in a confusion of whispers i heard from the pigmy figures a babble of cries, "back, back, go thou back." again i hesitated, the strain upon my nerves was becoming unbearable; i glanced backward and saw a swarm of misshaped diminutive forms, each holding up a monstrous arm and hand. the passage behind us was closed against retreat. every form possessed but one hand, the other and the entire body seemingly had been drawn into this abnormal member. while i thus meditated, momentarily, as by a single thought each hand closed, excepting the index finger, and in unison each finger pointed towards the open way in front, and like shafts from a thousand bows i felt the voices whiz past me, and then from the rear came the reverberation as a complex echo, "then go on; on to your destiny, unhappy man." instinctively i sprang forward, and had it not been for the restraining hand of my guide would have rushed wildly into passages that might have ended my misery, for god only knows what those unseen corridors contained. i was aware of that which lay behind, and was only intent on escaping from the horrid figures already passed. [illustration: "each finger pointed towards the open way in front."] "hold," whispered the guide; "as you value your life, stop." and then exerting a power that i could not withstand, he held me a struggling prisoner. "listen," he said, "have you not observed that these creatures do not seek to harm you? have not all of them spoken kindly, have any offered violence?" "no," i replied, "but they are horrible." "that they realize; but fearing that you will prove to be as weak as they have been, and will become as they are now, they warn you back. however, i say to you, if you have courage sufficient, you need have no fear. come, rely on me, and do not be surprised at anything that appears." again we went forward. i realized now my utter helplessness. i became indifferent again; i could neither retrace my footsteps alone, nor guide them forward in the path i was to pursue. i submissively relied on my guide, and as stoical as he appeared to be, i moved onward to new scenes. we came to a great chamber which, as we halted on its edge, seemed to be a prodigious amphitheater. in its center a rostrum-like stone of a hundred feet in diameter, flat and circular on the top, reared itself about twelve feet above the floor, and to the base of this rostrum the floor of the room sloped evenly. the amphitheater was fully a thousand feet in diameter, of great height, and the floor was literally alive with grotesque beings. imagination could not depict an abnormal human form that did not exhibit itself to my startled gaze. one peculiarity now presented itself to my mind; each abnormal part seemed to be created at the expense of the remainder of the body. thus, to my right i beheld a single leg, fully twelve feet in height, surmounted by a puny human form, which on this leg, hopped ludicrously away. i saw close behind this huge limb a great ear attached to a small head and body; then a nose so large that the figure to which it was attached was forced to hold the face upward, in order to prevent the misshaped organ from rubbing on the stony floor. here a gigantic forehead rested on a shrunken face and body, and there a pair of enormous feet were walking, seemingly attached to the body of a child, and yet the face was that of a man. if an artist were to attempt to create as many revolting figures as possible, each with some member out of proportion to the rest of the body, he could not add one form to those upon this floor. and yet, i again observed that each exaggerated organ seemed to have drawn itself into existence by absorbing the remainder of the body. we stood on the edge of this great room, and i pondered the scene before my eyes. at length my guide broke the silence: "you must cross this floor; no other passage is known. mark well my words, heed my advice." "this is the drunkards' den. these men are lost to themselves and to the world. every member of this assembly once passed onward as you are now doing, in charge of a guide. they failed to reach the goal to which you aspire, and retreating, reached this chamber, to become victims to the drink habit. some of these creatures have been here for ages, others only for a short period." "why are they so distorted?" i asked. "because matter is now only partly subservient to will," he replied. "the intellect and mind of a drunkard on surface earth becomes abnormal by the influence of an intoxicant, but his real form is unseen, although evidently misshapen and partly subject to the perception of a few only of his fellow men. could you see the inner form of an earth surface drunkard, you would perceive as great a mental monstrosity as is any physical monster now before you, and of the two the physically abnormal creature is really the least objectionable. could you see the mind configurations of an assembly of surface earth topers, you would perceive a class of beings as much distorted mentally as are these physically. a drunkard is a monstrosity. on surface earth the mind becomes abnormal; here the body suffers." "why is it," i asked, "that parts of these creatures shrink away as some special organ increases?" "because the abnormal member can grow only by abstracting its substance from the other portions of the body. an increasing arm enlarges itself by drawing its strength from the other parts, hence the body withers as the hand enlarges, and in turn the hand shrinks when the leg increases in size. the total weight of the individual remains about the same. "men on earth judge of men not by what they are, but by what they seem to be. the physical form is apparent to the sense of sight, the real man is unseen. however, as the boot that encloses a foot can not altogether hide the form of the foot within, so the body that encloses the life entity, can not but exhibit here and there the character of the dominating spirit within. thus a man's features may grow to indicate the nature of the enclosed spirit, for the controlling character of that spirit will gradually impress itself on the material part of man. even on surface earth, where the matter side of man dominates, a vicious spirit will produce a villainous countenance, a mediocre mind a vapid face, and an amorous soul will even protrude the anterior part of the skull. "carry the same law to this location, and it will be seen that as mind, or spirit, is here the master, and matter is the slave, the same rule should, under natural law, tend to produce such abnormal figures as you perceive. hence the part of a man's spirit that is endowed most highly sways the corresponding part of his physical body at the expense of the remainder. gradually the form is altered under the relaxing influence of this fearful intra-earth intoxicant, and eventually but one organ remains to tell of the symmetrical man who formerly existed. then, when he is no longer capable of self-motion, the comrades carry the drunkard's fate, which is here the abnormal being you have seen, into the selected corridor, and deposit it among others of its kind, as in turn the bearers are destined sometime to be carried by others. we reached this cavern through a corridor in which heads and arms were abnormal, but in others may be found great feet, great legs, or other portions of self-abused man. "i should tell you, furthermore, that on surface earth a drunkard is not less abnormal than these creatures; but men can not see the form of the drunkard's spirit. could they perceive the image of the real man life that corresponds to the material part, it would appear not less distorted and hideous. the soul of a mortal protrudes from the visible body as down expands from a thistle seed, but it is invisible. drink drives the spirit of an earth-surface drunkard to unnatural forms, not less grotesque than these physical distortions. could you see the real drunkard on surface earth he would be largely outside the body shell, and hideous in the extreme. as a rule, the spirit of an earth-surface drunkard dominates the nose and face, and if mortal man could be suddenly gifted with the sense of mind-sight, they would find themselves surrounded by persons as misshapen as any delirious imagination can conjure. luckily for humanity this scene is as yet withheld from man, for life would otherwise be a fearful experience, because man has not the power to resist the temptation to abuse drink." "tell me," i said, "how long will those beings rest in these caverns?" "they have been here for ages," replied the guide; "they are doomed to remain for ages yet." "you have intimated that if my courage fails i will return to this cavern and become as they are. now that you have warned me of my doom, do you imagine that anything, even sudden death, can swerve me from my journey? death is surely preferable to such an existence as this." "do not be so confident. every individual before you has had the same opportunity, and has been warned as you have been. they could not undergo the test to which they were subjected, and you may fail. besides, on surface earth are not men constantly confronted with the doom of the drunkard, and do they not, in the face of this reality, turn back and seek his caverns? the journey of life is not so fearful that they should become drunkards to shrink from its responsibilities. you have reached this point in safety. you have passed the sentinels without, and will soon be accosted by the band before us. listen well now to my advice. a drunkard always seeks to gain companions, to draw others down to his own level, and you will be tried as never have you been before. taste not their liquor by whatever form or creature presented. they have no power to harm him who has courage to resist. if they entreat you, refuse; if they threaten, refuse; if they offer inducements, refuse to drink. let your answer be no, and have no fear. if your strength fail you, mark well my--" before he could complete his sentence i felt a pressure, as of a great wind, and suddenly found myself seized in an embrace irresistible, and then, helpless as a feather, was swept out into the cavern of the drunkards. chapter xxxix. among the drunkards. i remember once to have stood on the edge of niagara's great whirlpool, but not more fearful did its seething waters then seem than did the semi-human whirl into which i had now been plunged. whether my guide had been aware of the coming move that separated us i never knew, but, as his words were interrupted, i infer that he was not altogether ready to part from my company. be this as it may, he disappeared from sight, and, as by a concerted move, the cries of the drunkards subsided instantly. i found myself borne high in the air, perched on a huge hand that was carried by its semi-human comrades. it seemed as though the contents of that vast hall had been suddenly thrown beneath me, for, as i looked about, i saw all around a sea of human fragments, living, moving parts of men. round and round that hall we circled as an eddy whirls in a rock-bound basin, and not less silently than does the water of an eddy. then i perceived that the disjointed mass of humanity moved as a spiral, in unison, throbbing like a vitalized stream, bearing me submissively on its surface. gradually the distance between myself and the center stone lessened, and then i found that, as if carried in the groove of a gigantic living spiral, i was being swept towards the stone platform in the center of the room. there was method in the movements of the drunkards, although i could not analyze the intricacies of their complex reel. finally i was borne to the center stone, and by a sudden toss of the hand, in the palm of which i was seated, i was thrown upon the raised platform. then in unison the troop swung around the stone, and i found myself gazing on a mass of vitalized fragments of humanity. quickly a figure sprung upon the platform, and in him i discerned a seemingly perfect man. he came to my side and grasped my hand as if he were a friend. "do not fear," he said; "obey our request, and you will not be harmed." "what do you desire?" i asked. he pointed to the center of the stone, and i saw thereon many gigantic, inverted fungus bowls. the gills of some had been crushed to a pulp, and had saturated themselves with liquid which, perhaps by a species of fermentation, had undergone a structural change; others were as yet intact; others still contained men intently cutting the gills into fragments and breaking the fruit preparatory to further manipulation. "you are to drink with us," he replied. "no," i said; "i will not drink." "then you must die; to refuse to drink with us is to invite death." "so mote it be; i will not drink." we stood facing each other, apparently both meditating on the situation. i remember to have been surprised, not that the man before me had been able to spring from the floor to the table rock on which i stood, but that so fair a personage could have been a companion of the monstrosities about me. he was a perfect type of manhood, and was exquisitely clothed in a loose, flowing robe that revealed and heightened the beauty of his symmetrical form. his face was fair, yet softly tinted with rich, fresh color; his hair and beard were neatly trimmed; his manner was polished, and his countenance frank and attractive. the contrast between the preternatural shapes from among whom he sprung and himself was as between a demon and an angel. i marveled that i had not perceived him before, for such a one should have been conspicuous because so fair; but i reflected that it was quite natural that among the thousands of grotesque persons about me, one attractive form should have escaped notice. presently he spoke again, seemingly having repented of his display of temper. "i am a friend," he said; "a deliverer. i will serve you as i have others before you. lean on me, listen to my story, accept my proffered friendship." then he continued: "when you have rested, i will guide you in safety back to upper earth, and restore you to your friends." i could not resist his pleasing promise. i suddenly and unaccountably believed in his sincerity. he impressed me with confidence in his truthfulness, yes, against my better judgment, convinced me that he must be a friend, a savior. grasping him by the hand i thanked him for his interest in a disconsolate wanderer, and assured him of my confidence. "i am in your hands," i said; "i will obey you implicitly. i thank you, my deliverer; lead me back to surface earth and receive the gratitude of a despairing mortal." "this i will surely do," he said; "rest your case in my hands, do not concern yourself in the least about your future. before acquiescing in your desire, however, i will explain part of the experiences through which you have recently passed. you have been in the control of an evil spirit, and have been deceived. the grotesque figures, the abnormal beings about you, exist only in your disordered imagination. they are not real. these persons are happy and free from care or pain. they live in bliss inexpressible. they have a life within a life, and the outward expression that you have perceived is as the uncouth hide and figure that incloses the calm, peaceful eye of a toad. look at their eyes, not at their seemingly distorted forms." i turned to the throng and beheld a multitude of upturned faces mildly beaming upon me. as i glanced from eye to eye of each countenance, the repulsive figure disappeared from my view, and a sweet expression of innocence was all that was disclosed to me. i realized that i had judged by the outer garment. i had wronged these fellow-beings. a sense of remorse came over me, a desire to atone for my short-sightedness. "what can i offer as a retribution?" i asked. "i have injured these people." "listen," was the reply. "these serene intelligences are happy. they are as a band of brothers. they seek to do you a kindness, to save you from disaster. one hour of experience such as they enjoy is worth a hundred years of the pleasures known to you. this delicious favor, an hour of bliss, they freely offer you, and after you have partaken of their exquisite joy, i will conduct you back to earth's surface whenever you desire to leave us." he emphasized the word, desire. "i am ready," i replied; "give me this promised delight." the genial allurer turned to the table rock behind us, and continued: "in these fungus bowls we foment the extract of life. the precious cordial is as a union of the quintessential spirits of joy, peace, tranquillity, happiness, and delight. could man abstract from ecstasy the thing that underlies the sense that gives that word a meaning, his product would not approach the power of the potent liquids in these vessels." "of what are they composed?" i asked. "of derivatives of the rarest species of the fungus family," he answered. "they are made by formulæ that are the result of thousands of years of experimentation. come, let us not delay longer the hour of bliss." taking me by the hand, my graceful comrade led me to the nearest bowl. then on closer view i perceived that its contents were of a deep green color, and in active commotion, and although no vapor was apparent, a delightful sensation impressed my faculties. i am not sure that i inhaled at all,--the feeling was one of penetration, of subtile, magic absorption. my companion took a tiny shell which he dipped into the strange cauldron. holding the tiny cup before me, he spoke the one word, "drink." ready to acquiesce, forgetful of the warning i had received, i grasped the cup, and raised it to my lips, and as i did so chanced to glance at my tempter's face, and saw not the supposed friend i had formerly observed, but, as through a mask fair in outline, the countenance of an exulting demon, regarding me with a sardonic grin. in an instant he had changed from man to devil. i dashed the cup upon the rock. "no; i will not drink," i shouted. instantly the cavern rung with cries of rage. a thousand voices joined as by accord, and simultaneously the throng of fragments of men began to revolve again. the mysterious spiral seemed to unwind, but i could not catch the method of its movement. the motion was like that of an uncoiling serpent bisected lengthwise, the two halves of the body seeming to slide against each other. gradually that part of the cavern near the stone on which i stood became clear of its occupants, and at last i perceived that the throng had receded to the outer edge. then the encircling side walls of the amphitheater became visible, and as water sinks into sand, the medley of fragments of humanity disappeared from view. i turned to my companion; he, too, had vanished. i glanced towards the liquor cauldrons; the stone was bare. i alone occupied the gigantic hall. no trace remained to tell of the throng that a short time previously had surrounded and mocked me. desolate, distracted, i threw myself upon the stone, and cursed my miserable self. "come back," i cried, "come back. i will drink, drink, drink." chapter xl. further temptation.--etidorhpa. then, as my voice reverberated from the outer recesses, i caught a sound as of music in the distance. i raised my head and listened--yes, surely there was music. the melody became clearly distinct, and soon my senses were aware that both vocal and instrumental music were combined. the airs which came floating were sweet, simple, and beautiful. the voices and accompanying strains approached, but i could distinguish no words. by and by, from the corridors of the cavern, troops of bright female forms floated into view. they were clad in robes ranging from pure white to every richest hue, contrasting strangely, and in the distance their rainbow brilliancy made a gorgeous spectacle. some were fantastically attired in short gowns, such as i imagine were worn by the dancing girls of sacred history, others had kirtles of a single bright color, others of many shades intermingled, while others still were dressed in gauze-like fabrics of pure white. as they filed into the cavern, and approached me, they formed into platoons, or into companies, and then, as dissolving views come and go, they presented first one and then another figure. sometimes they would stretch in great circling lines around the hall, again they would form into squares, and again into geometrical figures of all shades and forms, but i observed that with every change they drew nearer to the stone on which i rested. they were now so near that their features could be distinguished, and never before had i seen such loveliness in human mold. every face was as perfect as a master's picture of the madonna, and yet no two seemed to possess the same type of beauty. some were of dark complexion with glossy, raven hair, others were fair with hair ranging from light brown to golden. the style of head dress, as a rule, was of the simplest description. a tinted ribbon, or twisted cord, over the head, bound their hair with becoming grace, and their silken locks were either plaited into braids, curled into ringlets, or hung loosely, flowing in wavelets about their shoulders. some held curious musical instruments, others beautiful wands, and altogether they produced a scenic effect of rare beauty that the most extravagant dream of fairyland could not surpass. thus it was that i became again the center of a throng, not of repulsive monsters, but of marvelously lovely beings. they were as different from those preceding as darkness is from daylight. could any man from the data of my past experiences have predicted such a scene? never before had the semblance of a woman appeared, never before had an intimation been given that the gentle sex existed in these silent chambers. now, from the grotesque figures and horrible cries of the former occupants of this same cavern, the scene had changed to a conception of the beautiful and artistic, such as a poetic spirit might evolve in an extravagant dream of higher fairy land. i glanced above; the great hall was clothed in brilliant colors, the bare rocks had disappeared, the dome of that vast arch reaching to an immeasurable height, was decorated in all the colors of the rainbow. flags and streamers fluttered in breezes that also moved the garments of the angelic throng about me, but which i could not sense; profiles of enchanting faces pervaded the glimmering space beyond; i alone was but an onlooker, not a participant of the joys about me. the movements of the seraph-like figures continued, innumerable forms and figures followed forms and figures innumerable, and music indescribable blended with the poetry of motion. i was rapt, the past disappeared, my former mind was blotted from existence, the world vanished, and i became a thrill of joy, a sensation of absolute delight. the band of spirits or fairy forms reached the rock at my feet, but i did not know how long a time they consumed in doing this; it may have been a second, and it may have been an eternity. neither did i care. a single moment of existence such as i experienced, seemed worth an age of any other pleasure. circling about me, these ethereal creatures paused from their motions, and, as the music ceased, i stood above them, and yet in their midst, and gazed out into a distance illimitable, but not less beautiful in the expanse than was the adjacent part. the cavern had altogether disappeared, and in the depths about me as far as the eye could reach, seemingly into the broad expanse of heaven, i saw the exquisite forms that i have so imperfectly described. then a single band from the throng lightly sprung upon the stony terrace where i stood, and sung and danced before me. every motion was perfect as imagination could depict, every sound was concentrated extract of melody. this band retired to be replaced by another, which in turn gave way to another, and still another, until, as in space we have no standard, time vanished, and numbers ceased to be numbers. no two of the band of dancers were clothed alike, no two songs were similar, though all were inexpressibly enchanting. the first group seemed perfect, and yet the second was better, and each succeeding band sung sweeter songs, were more beautiful, and richer in dress than those preceding. i became enveloped in the æsthetic atmosphere, my spirit seemed to be loosened from the body, it was apparently upon the point of escaping from its mortal frame; suddenly the music ceased, the figures about became passive, and every form standing upright and graceful, gazed upon my face, and as i looked at the radiant creatures, each successive face, in turn, seemed to grow more beautiful, each form more exquisite than those about. then, in the distance, i observed the phalanx divide, forming into two divisions, separated by a broad aisle, stretching from my feet to the limit of space without, and down this aisle i observed a single figure advancing toward me. as she approached, the phalanx closed in behind her, and when at last she reached the stone on which i stood, she stepped, or was wafted to my side, and the phalanx behind moved together and was complete again. [illustration: etidorhpa.] "my name is etidorhpa. in me you behold the spirit that elevates man, and subdues the most violent of passions. in history, so far back in the dim ages as to be known now as legendary mythology, have i ruled and blessed the world. unclasp my power over man and beast, and while heaven dissolves, the charms of paradise will perish. i know no master. the universe bows to my authority. stars and suns enamored pulsate and throb in space and kiss each other in waves of light; atoms cold embrace and cling together; structures inanimate affiliate with and attract inanimate structures; bodies dead to other noble passions are not dead to love. the savage beast, under my enchantment, creeps to her lair, and gently purrs over her offspring; even man becomes less violent, and sheathes his weapon and smothers his hatred as i soothe his passions beside the loved ones in the privacy of his home. "i have been known under many titles, and have comforted many peoples. strike my name from time's record, and the lovely daughters of zeus and dione would disappear; and with them would vanish the grace and beauty of woman; the sweet conception of the froth child of the cyprus sea would be lost; venus, the goddess of love, would have no place in song, and love herself, the holiest conception of the poet, man's superlative conception of heaven's most precious charms, would be buried with the myrtle and the rose. my name is etidorhpa; interpret it rightly, and you have what has been to humanity the essence of love, the mother of all that ennobles. he who loves a wife worships me; she, who in turn makes a home happy, is typical of me. i am etidorhpa, the beginning and the end of earth. behold in me the antithesis of envy, the opposite of malice, the enemy of sorrow, the mistress of life, the queen of immortal bliss. "do you know," she continued, and her voice, soft and sweet, carried with it a pleasurable sense of truthfulness indescribable, "do you know that man's idea of heaven, places me, etidorhpa, on the highest throne? with the charm of maiden pure, i combine the devotion of wife and the holiness of mother. take from the life of man the treasures i embody, and he will be homeless, childless, loveless. the thought of heaven will in such a case be as the dismal conception of a dreary platitude. a life in such a heaven, a heaven devoid of love (and this the scriptures teach), is one of endless torment. "love, by whatever name the conception is designated, rules the world. divest the cold man of science, of the bond that binds him to his life-thought, and his work is ended. strike from the master in music the chord that links his soul to the voice he breathes, and his songs will be hushed. deaden the sense of love which the artist bears his art, and as the spirit that underlies his thought-scenes vanishes, his touch becomes chilled, and his brush inexpressive. the soldier thinks of his home and country, and without a murmur sheds his life blood. "and yet there are debasing phases of love, for as love of country builds a nation, so love of pillage may destroy it. love of the holy and the beautiful stands in human life opposed to love of the debasing and vicious, and i, etidorhpa, am typical of the highest love of man. as the same force binds the molecules of the rose and the violet as well as those of noxious drugs, so the same soul conception may serve the love of good or the love of evil. love may guide a tyrant or actuate a saint, may make man torture his fellow, or strive to ease his pain. "thus, man's propensity to serve his holy or his evil passion may each be called a degree in love, and in the serving of that passion the love of one heart may express itself as the antithesis of love in another. as bitter is to some men's taste more pleasant than sweet, and sour is yet more grateful to others, so one man may love the beautiful, another delight in the grotesque, and a third may love to see his neighbor suffer. amid these, the phase of love that ennobles, brings the greatest degree of pleasure and comfort to mankind, but the love that degrades is love nevertheless, by whatever name the expression of the passion may be called. love rules the world, and typical of man's intensest, holiest love, i, etidorhpa, stand the soul of love supreme." she hesitated. "go on." "i have already said, and in saying this have told the truth, i come from beyond the empty shell of a materialistic gold and silver conception of heaven. go with me, and in my home you will find man's soul devotion, regardless of material surroundings. i have said, and truly, the corridors of the heaven mansion, enriched by precious stones and metals fine, but destitute of my smiles and graces, are deserted. the golden calf is no longer worshiped, cobwebs cling in festoons motionless, and the dust of selfish thoughts perverted, dry and black as the soot from satan's fires settling therein, as the dust of an antiquated sarcophagus, rest undisturbed. place on one side the heaven of which gold-bound misers sing, and on the other etidorhpa and the treasures that come with me to man and woman, (for without me neither wife, child, nor father could exist,) and from any other heaven mankind will turn away. the noblest gift of heaven to humanity is the highest sense of love, and i, etidorhpa, am the soul of love." she ceased speaking, and as i looked at the form beside me i forgot myself in the rapture of that gaze. crush the colors of the rainbow into a single hue possessed of the attributes of all the others, and multiply that entity to infinity, and you have less richness than rested in any of the complex colors shown in the trimming of her raiment. lighten the softness of eiderdown a thousand times, and yet maintain its sense of substance, and you have not conceived of the softness of the gauze that decked her simple, flowing garments. gather the shadows cast by a troop of radiant angels, then sprinkle the resultant shade with star dust, and color therewith a garment brighter than satin, softer than silk, and more ethereal than light itself, and you have less beauty than reposed in the modest dress that enveloped her figure. abstract the perfume from the sweetest oriental grasses, and combine with it the essential spirit of the wild rose, then add thereto the soul of ambergris, and the quintessential extracts of the finest aromatics of the east, and you have not approached the exquisite fragrance that penetrated my very being at her approach. she stood before me, slender, lithe, symmetrical, radiant. her hair was more beautiful than pen can depict; it was colorless because it can not be described by colors known to mortals. her face paled the beauty of all who had preceded her. she could not be a fairy, for no conception of a fairy can approach such loveliness; she was not a spirit, for surely material substance was a part of her form; she was not an angel, for no abnormal, irrational wing protruded from her shoulder to blemish her seraphic figure. "no," i said musingly; "she is a creature of other climes; the scriptures tell of no such being; she is neither human nor angelic, but--" "but what?" she said. "i do not know," i answered. "then i will tell you," she replied. "yes; i will tell you of myself and of my companions. i will show you our home, carrying you through the shadows of heaven to exhibit that fair land, for heaven without etidorhpa casts a shadow in comparison therewith. see," she said, as with her dainty fingers she removed from her garment a fragment of transparent film that i had not previously observed; "see, this is a cobweb that clung to my skirt, as, on my way to meet you, i passed through the dismal corridors of the materialists' loveless heaven." she dropped it on the floor, and i stooped to pick it up, but vainly--my fingers passed through it as through a mist. "you must be an angel," i stammered. she smiled. "come," she said, "do not consume your time with thoughts of materialistic heaven; come with me to that brighter land beyond, and in those indescribable scenes we, you and i, will wander together forever." she held out her hand; i hesitatingly touched it, and then raised it to my lips. she made no resistance. i dropped upon my knees. "are you to be mine?" i cried. "mine forever?" "yes," she answered; "if you will it, for he who loves will be loved in turn." "i will do it," i said; "i give myself to you, be you what you may, be your home where it may, i give up the earth behind me, and the hope of heaven before me; the here and the hereafter i will sacrifice. let us hasten," i said, for she made no movement. she shook her head. "you must yet be tempted as never before, and you must resist the tempter. you can not pass into the land of etidorhpa until you have suffered as only the damned can suffer, until you have withstood the pangs of thirst, and have experienced heat and cold indescribable. remember the warning of your former guide, mark well the words of etidorhpa: you must not yield. 'twas to serve you that i came before you now, 'twas to preserve you from the drunkard's cavern that i have given you this vision of the land beyond the end of earth where, if you will serve yourself, we will meet again." she held aloft two tiny cups; i sprung to my feet and grasped one of them, and as i glanced at the throng in front of me, every radiant figure held aloft in the left hand a similar cup. all were gazing in my face. i looked at the transparent cup in my hand; it appeared to be partly filled with a green liquid. i looked at her cup and saw that it contained a similar fluid. forgetting the warning she had so recently given, i raised the cup to my lips, and just before touching it glanced again at her face. the fair creature stood with bowed head, her face covered with her hand; her very form and attitude spoke of sorrow and disappointment, and she trembled in distress. she held one hand as though to thrust back a form that seemed about to force itself beyond her figure, for peering exultingly from behind, leered the same satanic face that met my gaze on the preceding occasion, when in the presence of the troop of demons, i had been tempted by the perfect man. dashing the cup to the floor i shouted: "no; i will not drink." etidorhpa dropped upon her knees and clasped her hands. the satanic figure disappeared from sight. realizing that we had triumphed over the tempter, i also fell upon my knees in thankfulness. chapter xli. misery. as all the bubbles in a glass shrink and vanish when the first collapses, so the troop of fairy-like forms before me disintegrated, and were gone. the delicate being, whose hand i held, fluttered as does a mist in the first gust of a sudden gale, and then dissolved into transparency. the gaily decked amphitheater disappeared, the very earth cavern passed from existence, and i found myself standing solitary and alone in a boundless desert. i turned towards every point of the compass only to find that no visible object appeared to break the monotony. i stood upon a floor of pure white sand which stretched to the horizon in gentle wave-like undulations as if the swell of the ocean had been caught, transformed to sand, and fixed. i bent down and scooped a handful of the sand, and raised it in the palm of my hand, letting it sift back again to earth; it was surely sand. i pinched my flesh, and pulled my hair, i tore my garments, stamped upon the sand, and shouted aloud to demonstrate that i myself was still myself. it was real, yes, real. i stood alone in a desert of sand. morning was dawning, and on one side the great sun rose slowly and majestically. "thank god for the sun," i cried. "thank god for the light and heat of the sun." i was again on surface earth; once more i beheld that glorious orb for the sight of which i had so often prayed when i believed myself miserable in the dismal earth caverns, and which i had been willing to give my very life once more to behold. i fell on my knees, and raised my hands in thankfulness. i blessed the rising sun, the illimitable sand, the air about me, and the blue heavens above. i blessed all that was before me, and again and again returned thanks for my delivery from the caverns beneath me. i did not think to question by what power this miracle had been accomplished. i did not care to do so; had i thought of the matter at all i would not have dared to question for fear the transition might prove a delusion. i turned towards the sun, and walked eastward. as the day progressed and the sun rose into the heavens, i maintained my journey, aiming as best i could to keep the same direction. the heat increased, and when the sun reached the zenith it seemed as though it would melt the marrow in my bones. the sand, as white as snow and hot as lava, dazzled my eyes, and i covered them with my hands. the sun in the sky felt as if it were a ball of white hot iron near my head. it seemed small, and yet appeared to shine as through a tube directed only towards myself. vainly did i struggle to escape and get beyond its boundary, the tube seemed to follow my every motion, directing the blazing shafts, and concentrating them ever upon my defenseless person. i removed my outer garments, and tore my shirt into fibers hoping to catch a waft of breeze, and with one hand over my eyes, and the other holding my coat above my head, endeavored to escape the mighty flood of heat, but vainly. the fiery rays streamed through the garment as mercury flows through a film of gauze. they penetrated my flesh, and vaporized my blood. my hands, fingers, and arms puffed out as a bladder of air expands under the influence of heat. my face swelled to twice, thrice its normal size, and at last my eyes were closed, for my cheeks and eyebrows met. i rubbed my shapeless hand over my sightless face, and found it as round as a ball; the nose had become imbedded in the expanded flesh, and my ears had disappeared in the same manner. i could no longer see the sun, but felt the vivid, piercing rays i could not evade. i do not know whether i walked or rolled along; i only know that i struggled to escape those deadly rays. then i prayed for death, and in the same breath begged the powers that had transferred me to surface earth to carry me back again to the caverns below. the recollection of their cool, refreshing atmosphere was as the thought of heaven must be to a lost spirit. i experienced the agony of a damned soul, and now, in contradistinction to former times, considered as my idea of perfect happiness the dismal earth caverns of other days. i thought of the day i had stood at the mouth of the kentucky cave, and waded into the water with my guide; i recalled the refreshing coolness of the stream in the darkness of that cavern when the last ray of sunshine disappeared, and i cursed myself for longing then for sunshine, and the surface earth. fool that man is, i mentally cried, not to be contented with that which is, however he may be situated, and wherever he may be placed. this is but a retribution, i am being cursed for my discontented mind, this is hell, and in comparison with this hell all else on or in earth is happiness. then i damned the sun, the earth, the very god of all, and in my frenzy cursed everything that existed. i felt my puffed limbs, and prayed that i might become lean again. i asked to shrink to a skeleton, for seemingly my misery came with my expanded form; but i prayed and cursed in vain. so i struggled on in agony, every moment seemingly covering a multitude of years; struggled along like a lost soul plodding in an endless expanse of ever-increasing, ever-concentrating hell. at last, however, the day declined, the heat decreased, and as it did so my distorted body gradually regained its normal size, my eyesight returned, and finally i stood in that wilderness of sand watching the great red sun sink into the earth, as in the morning i had watched it rise. but between the sunrise and the sunset there had been an eternity of suffering, and then, as if released from a spell, i dropped exhausted upon the sand, and seemed to sleep. i dreamed of the sun, and that an angel stood before me, and asked why i was miserable, and in reply i pointed to the sun. "see," i said, "the author of the misery of man." said the angel: "were there no sun there would be no men, but were there no men there would still be misery." "misery of what?" i asked. "misery of mind," replied the angel. "misery is a thing, misery is not a conception--pain is real, pain is not an impression. misery and pain would still exist and prey upon mind substance were there no men, for mind also is real, and not a mere conception. the pain you have suffered has not been the pain of matter, but the pain of spirit. matter can not suffer. were it matter that suffered, the heated sand would writhe in agony. no; it is only mind and spirit that experience pain, or pleasure, and neither mind nor spirit can evade its destiny, even if it escape from the body." then i awoke and saw once more the great red sun rise from the sand-edge of my desolate world, and i became aware of a new pain, for now i perceived the fact that i experienced the sense of thirst. the conception of the impression drew my mind to the subject, and instantly intense thirst, the most acute of bodily sufferings, possessed me. when vitalized tissue craves water, other physical wants are unfelt; when man parches to death all other methods of torture are disregarded. i thought no longer of the rising sun, i remembered no more the burning sand of yesterday, i felt only the pain of thirst. "water, water, water," i cried, and then in the distance as if in answer to my cry, i beheld a lake of water. instantly every nerve was strained, every muscle stretched, and i fled over the sands towards the welcome pool. on and on i ran, and as i did so, the sun rising higher and higher, again began to burn the sands beneath my feet, and roast the flesh upon my bones. once more i experienced that intolerable sense of pain, the pain of living flesh disintegrating by fire, and now with thirst gnawing at my vitals, and fire drying up the residue of my evaporated blood, i struggled in agony towards a lake that vanished before my gaze, to reappear just beyond. this day was more horrible than the preceding, and yet it was the reverse so far as the action of the sun on my flesh was concerned. my prayer of yesterday had been fearfully answered, and the curses of the day preceding were being visited upon my very self. i had prayed to become lean, and instead of the former puffed tissue and expanded flesh, my body contracted as does beef when dried. the tightening skin squeezed upon the solidifying flesh, and as the moisture evaporated, it left a shriveled integument, contracted close upon the bone. my joints stood out as great protuberances, my skin turned to a dark amber color, and my flesh became transparent as does wetted horn. i saw my very vitals throb, i saw the empty blood vessels, the shriveled nerves and vacant arteries of my frame. i could not close my eyes. i could not shield them from the burning sun. i was a mummy, yet living, a dried corpse walking over the sand, dead to all save pain. i tried to fall, but could not, and i felt that, while the sun was visible, i must stand upright; i could not stop, and could not stoop. then at last the malevolent sun sank beneath the horizon, and as the last ray disappeared again, i fell upon the sand. i did not sleep, i did not rest, i did not breathe nor live a human; i only existed as a living pain, the conception of pain realized into a conscious nucleus,--and so the night passed. again the sun arose, and with the light of her first ray i saw near at hand a caravan, camels, men, horses, a great cavalcade. they approached rapidly and surrounded me. the leader of the band alighted and raised me to my feet, for no longer had i the power of motion. he spoke to me kindly, and strange as it may seem to you, but not at all strange did it seem to me, called me by name. "we came across your tracks in the desert," he said; "we are your deliverers." i motioned for water; i could not speak. "yes," he said, "water you shall have." then from one of the skins that hung across the hump of a camel he filled a crystal goblet with sparkling water, and held it towards me, but just before the goblet touched my lips he withdrew it and said: "i forgot to first extend the greetings of our people." and then i noticed in his other hand a tiny glass containing a green liquid, which he placed to my lips, pronouncing the single word, "drink." i fastened my gaze upon the water, and opened my lips. i smelled the aroma of the powerful narcotic liquid within the glass, and hastened to obey, but glanced first at my deliverer, and in his stead saw the familiar face of the satanic figure that twice before had tempted me. instantly, without a thought as to the consequences, without a fear as to the result, i dashed the glass to the sand, and my voice returning, i cried for the third time, "no; i will not drink." the troop of camels instantly disappeared, as had the figures in the scenes before, the tempter resolved into clear air, the sand beneath my feet became natural again, and i became myself as i had been before passing through the hideous ordeal. the fact of my deliverance from the earth caverns had, i now realized, been followed by temporary aberration of my mind, but at last i saw clearly again, the painful fancy had passed, the delirium was over. i fell upon my knees in thankfulness; the misery through which i had passed had proven to be illusory, the earth caverns were beneath me, the mirage and temptations were not real, the horrors i had experienced were imaginary--thank god for all this--and that the sand was really sand. solitary, alone, i kneeled in the desert barren, from horizon to horizon desolation only surrounded, and yet the scene of that illimitable waste, a fearful reality, it is true, was sweet in comparison with the misery of body and soul about which i had dreamed so vividly. "'tis no wonder," i said to myself, "that in the moment of transition from the underground caverns to the sunshine above, the shock should have disturbed my mental equilibrium, and in the moment of reaction i should have dreamed fantastic and horrible imaginings." a cool and refreshing breeze sprung now, from i know not where; i did not care to ask; it was too welcome a gift to question, and contrasted pleasantly with the misery of my past hallucination. the sun was shining hot above me, the sand was glowing, parched beneath me, and yet the grateful breeze fanned my brow, and refreshed my spirit. "thank god," i cried, "for the breeze, for the coolness that it brings; only those who have experienced the silence of the cavern solitudes through which i have passed, and added thereto, have sensed the horrors of the more recent nightmare scenes, can appreciate the delights of a gust of air." the incongruity of surrounding conditions, as connected with affairs rational, did not appeal at all to my questioning senses, it seemed as though the cool breeze, coming from out the illimitable desolation of a heated waste was natural. i arose and walked on, refreshed. from out that breeze my physical self drew refreshment and strength. "'tis the cold," i said; "the blessed antithesis of heat, that supports life. heat enervates, cold stimulates; heat depresses, cold animates. thank god for breezes, winds, waters, cold." i turned and faced the gladsome breeze. "'tis the source of life, i will trace it to its origin, i will leave the accursed desert, the hateful sunshine, and seek the blissful regions that give birth to cool breezes." i walked rapidly, and the breeze became more energetic and cooler. with each increase of momentum on my part, corresponding strength seemed to be added to the breeze--both strength and coolness. "is not this delightful?" i murmured; "my god at last has come to be a just god. knowing what i wanted, he sent the breeze; in answer to my prayer the cool, refreshing breeze arose. damn the heat," i cried aloud, as i thought of the horrid day before; "blessed be the cold," and as though in answer to my cry the breeze stiffened and the cold strengthened itself, and i again returned thanks to my creator. with ragged coat wrapped about my form i faced the breeze and strode onward towards the home of the gelid wind that now dashed in gusts against my person. then i heard my footstep crunch, and perceived that the sand was hard beneath my feet; i stooped over to examine it and found it frozen. strange, i reflected, strange that dry sand can freeze, and then i noticed, for the first time, that spurts of snow surrounded me, 'twas a sleety mixture upon which i trod, a crust of snow and sand. a sense of dread came suddenly over me, and instinctively i turned, affrighted, and ran away from the wind, towards the desert behind me, back towards the sun, which, cold and bleak, low in the horizon, was sinking. the sense of dread grew upon me, and i shivered as i ran. with my back towards the breeze i had blessed, i now fled towards the sinking sun i had cursed. i stretched out my arms in supplication towards that orb, for from behind overhanging blackness spread, and about me roared a fearful hurricane. vainly. as i thought in mockery the heartless sun disappeared before my gaze, the hurricane surrounded me, and the wind about me became intensely cold, and raved furiously. it seemed as though the sun had fled from my presence, and with the disappearance of that orb, the outline of the earth was blotted from existence. it was an awful blackness, and the universe was now to me a blank. the cold strengthened and froze my body to the marrow of my bones. first came the sting of frost, then the pain of cold, then insensibility of flesh. my feet were benumbed, my limbs motionless. i stood a statue, quiescent in the midst of the roaring tempest. the earth, the sun, the heavens themselves, my very person now had disappeared. dead to the sense of pain or touch, sightless, amid a blank, only the noise of the raging winds was to me a reality. and as the creaking frost reached my brain and congealed it, the sound of the tempest ceased, and then devoid of physical senses, my quickened intellect, enslaved, remained imprisoned in the frozen form it could not leave, and yet could no longer control. reflection after reflection passed through that incarcerated thought entity, and as i meditated, the heinous mistakes i had committed in the life that had passed, arose to torment. god had answered my supplications, successively i had experienced the hollowness of earthly pleasures, and had left each lesson unheeded. had i not alternately begged for and then cursed each gift of god? had i not prayed for heat, cold, light, and darkness, and anathematized each? had i not, when in perfect silence, prayed for sound; in sheltered caverns, prayed for winds and storms; in the very corridors of heaven, and in the presence of etidorhpa, had i not sought for joys beyond? had i not found each pleasure of life a mockery, and notwithstanding each bitter lesson, still pursued my headstrong course, alternately blessing and cursing my creator, and then myself, until now, amid a howling waste, in perfect darkness, my conscious intellect was bound to the frozen, rigid semblance of a body? all about me was dead and dark, all within was still and cold, only my quickened intellect remained as in every corpse the self-conscious intellect must remain, while the body has a mortal form, for death of body is not attended by the immediate liberation of mind. the consciousness of the dead man is still acute, and he who thinks the dead are mindless, will realize his fearful error when devoid of motion he lies a corpse, conscious of all that passes on around him, waiting the liberation that can only come by disintegration and destruction of the flesh. so, unconscious of pain, unconscious of any physical sense, i existed on and on, enthralled, age after age passed and piled upon one another, for time was to me unchangeable, no more an entity. i now prayed for change of any kind, and envied the very devils in hell their pleasures, for were they not gifted with the power of motion, could they not hear, and see, and realize the pains they suffered? i prayed for death--death absolute, death eternal. then, at last, the darkness seemed to lessen, and i saw the frozen earth beneath, the monstrous crags of ice above, the raging tempest about, for i now had learned by reflection to perceive by pure intellect, to see by the light within. my body, solid as stone, was fixed and preserved in a waste of ice. the world was frozen. i perceived that the sun, and moon, and stars, nearly stilled, dim and motionless, had paled in the cold depths of space. the universe itself was freezing, and amid the desolation only my deserted intellect remained. age after age had passed, æons of ages had fled, nation after nation had grown and perished, and in the uncounted epochs behind, humanity had disappeared. unable to free itself from the frozen body, my own intellect remained the solitary spectator of the dead silence about. at last, beneath my vision, the moon disappeared, the stars faded one by one, and then i watched the sun grow dim, until at length only a milky, gauze-like film remained to indicate her face, and then--vacancy. i had lived the universe away. and in perfect darkness the living intellect, conscious of all that had transpired in the ages past, clung still enthralled to the body of the frozen mortal. i thought of my record in the distant past, of the temptations i had undergone, and called myself a fool, for, had i listened to the tempter, i could at least have suffered, i could have had companionship even though it were of the devils--in hell. i lived my life over and over, times without number; i thought of my tempters, of the offered cups, and thinking, argued with myself: "no," i said; "no, i had made the promise, i have faith in etidorhpa, and were it to do over again i would not drink." then, as this thought sped from me, the ice scene dissolved, the enveloped frozen form of myself faded from view, the sand shrunk into nothingness, and with my natural body, and in normal condition, i found myself back in the earth cavern, on my knees, beside the curious inverted fungus, of which fruit i had eaten in obedience to my guide's directions. before me the familiar figure of my guide stood, with folded arms, and as my gaze fell upon him he reached out his hand and raised me to my feet. "where have you been during the wretched epochs that have passed since i last saw you?" i asked. "i have been here," he replied, "and you have been there." "you lie, you villainous sorcerer," i cried; "you lie again as you have lied to me before. i followed you to the edge of demon land, to the caverns of the drunkards, and then you deserted me. since last we met i have spent a million, billion years of agony inexpressible, and have had that agony made doubly horrible by contrast with the thought, yes, the very sight and touch of heaven. i passed into a double eternity, and have experienced the ecstacies of the blessed, and suffered the torments of the damned, and now you dare boldly tell me that i have been here, and that you have been there, since last i saw you stand by this cursed fungus bowl." "yes," he said, taking no offense at my violence; "yes, neither of us has left this spot; you have sipped of the drink of an earth-damned drunkard, you have experienced part of the curses of intemperance, the delirium of narcotics. thousands of men on earth, in their drunken hallucination, have gone through hotter hells than you have seen; your dream has not exaggerated the sufferings of those who sup of the delirium of intemperance." and then he continued: "let me tell you of man's conception of eternity." chapter xlii. eternity without time. "man's conception of eternity is that of infinite duration, continuance without beginning or end, and yet everything he knows is bounded by two or more opposites. from a beginning, as he sees a form of matter, that substance passes to an end." thus spoke my guide. then he asked, and showed by his question that he appreciated the nature of my recent experiences: "do you recall the instant that you left me standing by this bowl to start, as you imagined, with me as a companion, on the journey to the cavern of the grotesque?" "no; because i did not leave you. i sipped of the liquid, and then you moved on with me from this spot; we were together, until at last we were separated on the edge of the cave of drunkards." "listen," said he; "i neither left you nor went with you. you neither went from this spot nor came back again. you neither saw nor experienced my presence nor my absence; there was no beginning to your journey." "go on." "you ate of the narcotic fungus; you have been intoxicated." "i have not," i retorted. "i have been through your accursed caverns, and into hell beyond. i have been consumed by eternal damnation in the journey, have experienced a heaven of delight, and also an eternity of misery." "upon the contrary, the time that has passed since you drank the liquid contents of that fungus fruit has only been that which permitted you to fall upon your knees. you swallowed the liquor when i handed you the shell cup; you dropped upon your knees, and then instantly awoke. see," he said; "in corroboration of my assertion the shell of the fungus fruit at your feet is still dripping with the liquid you did not drink. time has been annihilated. under the influence of this potent earth-bred narcoto-intoxicant, your dream begun inside of eternity; you did not pass into it." "you say," i interrupted, "that i dropped upon my knees, that i have experienced the hallucination of intoxication, that the experiences of my vision occurred during the second of time that was required for me to drop upon my knees." "yes." "then by your own argument you demonstrate that eternity requires time, for even a millionth part of a second is time, as much so as a million of years." "you mistake," he replied, "you misinterpret my words. i said that all you experienced in your eternity of suffering and pleasure, occurred between the point when you touched the fungus fruit to your lips, and that when your knees struck the stone." "that consumed time," i answered. "did i assert," he questioned, "that your experiences were scattered over that entire period?" "no." "may not all that occurred to your mind have been crushed into the second that accompanied the mental impression produced by the liquor, or the second of time that followed, or any other part of that period, or a fraction of any integral second of that period?" "i can not say," i answered, "what part of the period the hallucination, as you call it, occupied." "you admit that so far as your conception of time is concerned, the occurrences to which you refer may have existed in either an inestimable fraction of the first, the second, or the third part of the period." "yes," i replied, "yes; if you are correct in that, they were illusions." "let me ask you furthermore," he said; "are you sure that the flash that bred your hallucination was not instantaneous, and a part of neither the first, second, nor third second?" "continue your argument." "i will repeat a preceding question with a slight modification. may not all that occurred to your mind have been crushed into the space between the second of time that preceded the mental impression produced by the liquor, and the second that followed it? need it have been a part of either second, or of time at all? indeed, could it have been a part of time if it were instantaneous?" "go on." "suppose the entity that men call the soul of man were in process of separation from the body. the process you will admit would occupy time, until the point of liberation was reached. would not dissolution, so far as the separation of matter and spirit is concerned at its critical point be instantaneous?" i made no reply. "if the critical point is instantaneous, there would be no beginning, there could be no end. therein rests an eternity greater than man can otherwise conceive of, for as there is neither beginning nor end, time and space are annihilated. the line that separates the soul that is in the body from the soul that is out of the body is outside of all things. it is a between, neither a part of the nether side nor of the upper side; it is outside the here and the hereafter. let us carry this thought a little further," said he. "suppose a good man were to undergo this change, could not all that an eternity of happiness might offer be crushed into this boundless conception, the critical point? all that a mother craves in children dead, could reappear again in their once loved forms; all that a good life earns, would rest in the soul's experience in that eternity, but not as an illusion, although no mental pleasure, no physical pain is equal to that of hallucinations. suppose that a vicious life were ended, could it escape the inevitable critical point? would not that life in its previous journey create its own sad eternity? you have seen the working of an eternity with an end but not a beginning to it, for you can not sense the commencement of your vision. you have been in the cavern of the grotesque,--the realms of the beautiful, and have walked over the boundless sands that bring misery to the soul, and have, as a statue, seen the frozen universe dissolve. you are thankful that it was all an illusion as you deem it now; what would you think had only the heavenly part been spread before you?" "i would have cursed the man who dispelled the illusion," i answered. "then," he said, "you are willing to admit that men who so live as to gain such an eternity, be it mental illusion, hallucination or real, make no mistake in life." "i do," i replied; "but you confound me when you argue in so cool a manner that eternity may be everlasting to the soul, and yet without the conception of time." "did i not teach you in the beginning of this journey," he interjected, "that time is not as men conceive it. men can not grasp an idea of eternity and retain their sun bred, morning and evening, conception of time. therein lies their error. as the tip of the whip-lash passes with the lash, so through life the soul of man proceeds with the body. as there is a point just when the tip of the whip-lash is on the edge of its return, where all motion of the line that bounds the tip ends, so there is a motionless point when the soul starts onward from the body of man. as the tip of the whip-lash sends its cry through space, not while it is in motion either way, but from the point where motion ceases, the spaceless, timeless point that lies between the backward and the forward, so the soul of man leaves a cry (eternity) at the critical point. it is the death echo, and thus each snap of the life-thread throws an eternity, its own eternity, into eternity's seas, and each eternity is made up of the entities thus cast from the critical point. with the end of each soul's earth journey, a new eternity springs into existence, occupying no space, consuming no time, and not conflicting with any other, each being exactly what the soul-earth record makes it, an eternity of joy (heaven), or an eternity of anguish (hell). there can be no neutral ground." then he continued: "the drunkard is destined to suffer in the drunkard's eternity, as you have suffered; the enticement of drink is evanescent, the agony to follow is eternal. you have seen that the sub-regions of earth supply an intoxicant. taste not again of any intoxicant; let your recent lesson be your last. any stimulant is an enemy to man, any narcotic is a fiend. it destroys its victim, and corrupts the mind, entices it into pastures grotesque, and even pleasant at first, but destined to eternal misery in the end. beware of the eternity that follows the snapping of the life-thread of a drunkard. come," he abruptly said, "we will pursue our journey." [note.--morphine, belladonna, hyoscyamus and cannabis indica are narcotics, and yet each differs in its action from the others. alcohol and methyl alcohol are intoxicants; ether, chloroform, and chloral are anæsthetics, and yet no two are possessed of the same qualities. is there any good reason to doubt that combinations of the elements as yet hidden from man can not cause hallucinations that combine and intensify the most virulent of narcotics, intoxicants, and anæsthetics, and pall the effects of hashish or of opium? if, in the course of experimentation, a chemist should strike upon a compound that in traces only would subject his mind and drive his pen to record such seemingly extravagant ideas as are found in the hallucinations herein pictured, would it not be his duty to bury the discovery from others, to cover from mankind the existence of such a noxious fruit of the chemist's or pharmaceutist's art? introduce such an intoxicant, and start it to ferment in humanity's blood, and before the world were advised of its possible results, might not the ever increasing potency gain such headway as to destroy, or debase, our civilization, and even to exterminate mankind?--j. u. l.] interlude. chapter xliii. the last contest. i, lewellyn drury, had been so absorbed in the fantastic story the old man read so fluently from the execrably written manuscript, and in the metaphysical argument which followed his account of the vision he had introduced so artfully as to lead me to think it was a part of his narrative, that i scarcely noted the passage of time. upon seeing him suspend his reading, fold the manuscript, and place it in his pocket, i reverted to material things, and glancing at the clock, perceived that the hands pointed to bed-time. "to-morrow evening," said he, "i will return at nine o'clock. in the interim, if you still question any part of the story, or wish further information on any subject connected with my journey, i will be prepared to answer your queries. since, however, that will be your last opportunity, i suggest that you make notes of all subjects that you wish to discuss." then, in his usual self-possessed, exquisitely polite manner, he bowed himself out. i spent the next day reviewing the most questionable features of his history, recalling the several statements that had been made. remembering the humiliation i had experienced in my previous attempts to confute him, i determined to select such subjects as would appear the most difficult to explain, and to attack the old man with vehemence. i confess, that notwithstanding my several failures, and his successful and constant elucidation and minute details in regard to occurrences which he related, and which anticipated many points i had once had in mind to question, misgivings still possessed me concerning the truthfulness of the story. if these remarkable episodes were true, could there be such a thing as fiction? if not all true, where did fact end and fancy begin? accordingly i devoted the following day to meditating my plan of attack, for i felt that i had been challenged to a final contest. late the next day, i felt confident of my own ability to dispossess him, and in order further to test his power, when night came i doubly locked the door to my room, first with the key and next with the inside bolt. i had determined to force him again to induce inert material to obey his command, as he had done at our first interview. the reader will remember that prof. chickering had deemed that occurrence an illusion, and i confess that time had dimmed the vividness of the scene in my own mind. hence i proposed to verify the matter. therefore, at the approach of nine o'clock, the evening following, i sat with my gaze riveted on the bolt of the door, determined not to answer his knock. he gave me no chance to neglect a response to his rap. exactly at the stroke of nine the door swung noiselessly on its hinges, the wizard entered, and the door closed again. the bolt had not moved, the knob did not turn. the bar passed through the catch and back to its seat,--i sprung from my chair, and excitedly and rudely rushed past my guest. i grasped the knob, wrenched it with all my might. vainly; the door was locked, the bolt was fastened. then i turned to my visitor. he was quietly seated in his accustomed place, and apparently failed to notice my discomposure, although he must have realized that he had withstood my first test. this pronounced defeat, at the very beginning of our proposed contest, produced a depressing effect; nevertheless i made an effort at self-control, and seating myself opposite, looked my antagonist in the face. calm, dignified, with the brow of a philosopher, and the countenance of a philanthropist, a perfect type of the exquisite gentleman, and the cultured scholar, my guest, as serene and complacent as though, instead of an intruder, he were an invited participant of the comforts of my fireside, or even the host himself, laid his hat upon the table, stroked his silvery, translucent beard, and said: "well?" i accepted the challenge, for the word, as he emphasized it, was a challenge, and hurled at him, in hopes to catch him unprepared, the following abrupt sentence: "i doubt the possibility of the existence of a great cavern such as you have described. the superincumbent mass of earth would crush the strongest metal. no material known to man could withstand a pressure so great as would overlie an arch as large as that you depict; material would succumb even if the roof were made of steel." "do not be so positive," he replied. "by what authority do you make this assertion?" "by the authority of common sense as opposed to an unreasonable hypothesis. you should know that there is a limit to the strength of all things, and that no substance is capable of making an arch of thousands of miles, which, according to your assertion, must have been the diameter of the roof of your inland sea." "ah," he replied, "and so you again crush my facts with your theory. well, let me ask a question." "proceed." "did you ever observe a bubble resting on a bubble?" "yes." "did you ever place a pipe-stem in a partly filled bowl of soap water, and by blowing through it fill the bowl with bubbles?" "yes." "did you ever calculate the tensile strength of the material from which you blew the bubble?" "no; for soap water has no appreciable strength." "and yet you know that a bubble made of suds has not only strength, but elasticity. suppose a bubble of energy floating in space were to be covered to the depth of the thickness of a sheet of tissue paper with the dust of space, would that surprise you?" "no." "suppose two such globes of energy, covered with dust, were to be telescoped or attached together, would you marvel at the fact?" "no." he drew a picture on a piece of paper, in which one line was inclosed by another, and remarked: "the pencil mark on this paper is proportionately thicker than the crust of the earth over the earth cavern i have described. even if it were made of soap suds, it could revolve through space and maintain its contour." "but the earth is a globe," i interjected. "you do not mean an exact globe?" "no; it is flattened at the poles." he took from his pocket two thin rubber balls, one slightly larger than the other. with his knife he divided the larger ball, cutting it into halves. he then placed one of the sections upon the perfect ball, and held the arrangement between the gas light and the wall. [illustration: fig. . a a, telescoped energy spheres.] "see; is not the shadow flattened, as your earth is, at the poles?" "yes; but the earth is not a shadow." "we will not argue that point now," he replied, and then asked: "suppose such a compound shell as this were to revolve through space and continuously collect dust, most of it of the earth's temperature, forming a fluid (water), would not that dust be propelled naturally from the poles?" "yes; according to our theory." "perhaps," said he, "the contact edge of the invisible spheres of energy which compose your earth bubbles, for planets are bubbles, that have been covered with water and soil during the time the energy bubble, which is the real bone of the globe, has been revolving through space; perhaps, could you reach the foundation of the earth dust, you would find it not a perfect sphere, but a compound skeleton, as of two bubbles locked, or rather telescoped together. [see fig. .] "are you sure that my guide did not lead me through the space between the bubbles?" then he continued: "do not be shocked at what i am about to assert, for, as a member of materialistic humanity, you will surely consider me irrational when i say that matter, materials, ponderous substances, one and all, so far as the ponderous part is concerned have no strength." "what! no strength?" "none whatever." i grasped the poker. "is not this matter?" "yes." "i can not break it." "no." "have not i strength?" "confine your argument now to the poker; we will consider you next. you can not break it." "i can break this pencil, though," and i snapped it in his face. "yes." i curled my lip in disdain. "you carry this argument too far." "why?" "i can break the pencil, i can not break the poker; had these materials not different strengths there could be no distinction; had i no strength i could not have broken either." "are you ready to listen?" he replied. "yes; but do not exasperate me." "i did not say that the combination you call a poker had no strength, neither did i assert that you could not break a pencil." "a distinction without a difference; you play upon words." "i said that matter, the ponderous side of material substances, has no strength." "and i say differently." he thrust the end of the poker into the fire, and soon drew it forth red-hot. "is it as strong as before?" "no." "heat it to whiteness and it becomes plastic." "yes." [illustration: fig. . b b, telescoped energy spheres covered with space dirt, inclosing space between.] "heat it still more and it changes to a liquid." "yes." "has liquid iron strength?" "very little, if any." "is it still matter?" "yes." "is it the material of the iron, or is it the energy called heat that qualifies the strength of the metal? it seems to me that were i in your place i would now argue that absence of heat constitutes strength," he sarcastically continued. "go on." "cool this red-hot poker by thrusting it into a pail of cold water, and it becomes very hard and brittle." "yes." "cool it slowly, and it is comparatively soft and plastic." "yes." "the material is the same, is it not?" "go on." "what strength has charcoal?" "scarcely any." "crystallize it, and the diamond results." "i did not speak of diamond." "ah! and is not the same amount of the same material present in each, a grain of diamond and a grain of charcoal? what is present in a grain of diamond that is not present in a grain of charcoal?" "go on." "answer my question." "i can not." "why does brittle, cold zinc, when heated, become first ductile, and then, at an increased temperature, become brittle again? in each case the same material is present." "i do not know; but this i do know: i am an organized being, and i have strength of body." the old man grasped the heavy iron poker with both hands, and suddenly rising to his full height, swung it about his head, then with a motion so menacing that i shrunk back into my chair and cried out in alarm, seemed about to strike, with full force, my defenseless brow. "my god," i shouted, "what have i done that you should murder me?" he lowered the weapon, and calmly asked: "suppose that i had crushed your skull--where then would be your vaunted strength?" i made no reply, for as yet i had not recovered from the mental shock. "could you then have snapped a pencil? could you have broken a reed? could you even have blown the down from a thistle bloom?" "no." "would not your material body have been intact?" "yes." "listen," said he. "matter has no strength, matter obeys spirit, and spirit dominates all things material. energy in some form holds particles of matter together, and energy in other forms loosens them. 'tis this imponderable force that gives strength to substances, not the ponderable side of the material. granite crushed is still granite, but destitute of rigidity. creatures dead are still organic structures, but devoid of strength or motion. the spirit that pervades all material things gives to them form and existence. take from your earth its vital spirit, the energy that subjects matter, and your so-called adamantine rocks would disintegrate, and sift as dust into the interstices of space. your so-called rigid globe, a shell of space dust, would dissolve, collapse, and as the spray of a burst bubble, its ponderous side would vanish in the depths of force." i sat motionless. "listen," he repeated. "you wrong your own common sense when you place dead matter above the spirit of matter. atoms come and go in their ceaseless transmigrations, worlds move, universes circulate, not because they are material bodies, but because as points of matter, in a flood of force, they obey the spirit that can blot out a sun, or dissolve the earth, as easily as it can unlink two atoms. matter is an illusion, spirit is the reality." i felt that he had silenced me against my will, and although i could not gainsay his assertions, i determined to study the subject carefully, at my leisure. "as you please," he interjected into my musings; "but since you are so determined, you would better study from books that are written by authors who know whereof they write, and who are not obliged to theorize from speculative data concerning the intrastructural earth crust." "but where can i find such works? i do not know of any." "then," said he, "perhaps it would be better to cease doubting the word of one who has acquired the knowledge to write such a book, and who has no object in misleading you." "still other questions arise," i said. "well?" "i consider the account of the intra-earth fungus intoxicant beyond the realm of fact." "in what respect?" "the perfect loss of self that resulted immediately, in an instant, after swallowing the juice of the fungous fruit, so that you could not distinguish between the real guide at your side and the phantom that sprung into existence, is incredible. [see p. .] an element of time is a factor in the operation of nerve impressions."[ ] [ ] it is well that reference was made to this point. few readers would probably notice that chapter xxxvi. begun a narcotic hallucination.--j. u. l. "have you investigated all possible anæsthetics?" he asked. "of course not." "or all possible narcotics?" "no." "how long does it require for pure prussic acid to produce its physiological action?" "i do not know." he ignored my reply, and continued: "since there exists a relative difference between the time that is required for ether and chloroform to produce insensibility, and between the actions and resultant effects of all known anæsthetics, intoxicants, and narcotics, i think you are hypercritical. some nerve excitants known to you act slowly, others quickly; why not others still instantaneously? if you can rest your assertion on any good basis, i will gladly meet your questions, but i do not accept such evidence as you now introduce, and i do not care to argue for both parties." again i was becoming irritated, for i was not satisfied with the manner in which i upheld my part of the argument, and naturally, as is usually the case with the defeated party, became incensed at my invincible antagonist. "well," i said, "i criticise your credulity. the drunkards of the drunkards' cavern were beyond all credence. i can not conceive of such abnormal creations, even in illusion. had i met with your experiences i would not have supposed, for an instant, that the fantastic shapes could have been aught but a dream, or the result of hallucination, while, without a question, you considered them real." "you are certainly pressed for subjects about which to complain when you resort to criticising the possibilities in creations of a mind under the influence of a more powerful intoxicant than is known to surface earth," he remarked. "however, i will show you that nature fashions animals in forms more fantastic than i saw, and that even these figures were not overdrawn--" without heeding his remark, i interrupted his discourse, determined to have my say: "and i furthermore question the uncouth personage you describe as your guide. would you have me believe that such a being has an existence outside an abnormal thought-creation?" "ah," he replied, "you have done well to ask these two questions in succession, for you permit me to answer both at once. listen: the monkey, of all animals, seems to approach closest to man in figure, the siamang gibon of asia, the bald-headed saki of south america, with its stub of a tail, being nearest. from these types we have great deviations as in the wanderer of india, with its whiskered face, and the black macaque of the island of celebes, with its hairy topknot, and hairless stub of a tail, or the well-known squirrel monkey, with its long supple tail, and the thumbless spider monkey, of south america. between these types we have among monkeys, nearly every conceivable shape of limb and figure, and in color of their faces and bodies, all the shades of the rainbow. "some squirrels jump and then sail through the air. the sloth can barely move on the earth. ant-eaters have no teeth at all, while the grizzly bear can crush a gun barrel with its molars. "the duck-billed platypus of south australia has the body of a mole, the tail of a raccoon, the flat bill of a duck, and the flipper of a seal, combined with the feet of a rat. it lays eggs as birds do, but suckles its young as do other mammalia. the opossum has a prehensile tail, as have some monkeys, and in addition a living bag or pouch in which the female carries her tiny young. the young of a kind of tree frog of the genus hylodes, breathe through a special organ in their tails; the young of the pipa, a great south american toad, burrow into the skin of the mother, and still another from chili, as soon as hatched, creep down the throat of the father frog, and find below the jaw an opening into a false membrane covering the entire abdomen, in which they repose in safety. three species of frogs and toads have no tongue at all, while in all the others the tongue is attached by its tip to the end of the mouth, and is free behind. the ordinary bullfrog has conspicuous great legs, while a relative, the coecilia (and others as well) have a head reminding of the frog, but neither tail nor legs, the body being elongated as if it were a worm. the long, slender fingers of a bat are united by means of a membrane that enables it to fly like a bird, while as a contrast, the fingers of a mole, its near cousin, are short and stubby, and massive as compared with its frame. the former flies through the air, the latter burrows (almost flies) through the earth. the great ant-eater has a curved head which is drawn out into a slender snout, no teeth, a long, slender tongue, a great bushy tail, and claws that neither allow the creature to burrow in the earth nor climb into trees, but which are admirably adapted to tear an ant-hill into fragments. its close relatives, the apar and armadillo, have a round body covered with bony plates, and a short, horny, curved tail, while another relative, the long-tailed pangolin, has a great alligator-like tail which, together with its body, is covered with horny, overlapping scales. "the greenland whale has an enormous head occupying more than one-third its length, no teeth, and a throat scarcely larger than that of a sucker fish. the golden mole has a body so nearly symmetrical that, were it not for the snout, it would be difficult to determine the location of the head without close inspection, and it has legs so short that, were it not for the powerful claws, they would not be observed at all. the narwhal has a straight, twisted tusk, a--" "hold, hold," i interrupted; "do you think that i am concerned in these well known contrasts in animal structure?" "did you not question the possibility of the description i gave of my grotesque drunkards, and of the form of my subterranean guide?" my guest retorted. "yes; but i spoke of men, you describe animals." "man is an animal, and between the various species of animals that you say are well known, greater distinctions can be drawn than between my guide and surface-earth man. besides, had you allowed me to proceed to a description of animal life beneath the surface of the earth, i would have shown you that my guide partook of their attributes. of the creatures described, one only was of the intra-earth origin--the mole,--and like my guide, it is practically eyeless." "go on," i said; "'tis useless for me to resist. and yet--" "and yet what?" "and yet i have other subjects to discuss." "proceed." "i do not like the way in which you constantly criticise science, especially in referring thereto the responsibilities of the crazed anatomist.[ ] it seems to me that he was a monomaniac, gifted, but crazed, and that science was unfortunate in being burdened with such an incubus." [ ] this section (see p. ) was excised, being too painful.--j. u. l. "true, and yet science advances largely by the work of such apparently heartless creatures. were it not for investigators who overstep the bounds of established methods, and thus criticise their predecessors, science would rust and disintegrate. besides, why should not science be judged by the rule she applies to others?" "what do you mean?" "who is more free to criticise religion than the materialistic man of science?" "but a religious man is not cruel." "have you not read history? have you not shuddered at the crimes recorded in the name of the religions of man?" "yes; but these cruelties were committed by misguided men under the cloak of the church, or of false religions, during the dark ages. do not blame religion, but the men who abused the cause." "yes," he added, "you are right; they were fanatics, crazed beings, men; yes, even communities, raving mad. crazed leaders can infuse the minds of the people with their fallacies, and thus become leaders of crazed nations. not, as i have depicted in my scientific enthusiast, one man alone in the privacy of his home torturing a single child, but whole nations pillaging, burning, torturing, and destroying. but this is foreign to our subject. beware, i reiterate, of the science of human biology. the man who enters the field can not foresee the end, the man who studies the science of life, and records his experiments, can not know the extremes to which a fanatical follower may carry the thought-current of his leader. i have not overdrawn the lesson. besides, science is now really torturing, burning, maiming, and destroying humanity. the act of destruction has been transferred from barbarians and the fanatic in religion to the follower of the devotees of science." "no; i say, no." "who created the steam engine? who evolves improved machinery? who creates improved artillery, and explosives? scientific men." he hesitated. "go on." "accumulate the maimed and destroyed each year; add together the miseries and sorrows that result from the explosions, accidents, and catastrophes resulting from science improvements, and the dark ages scarcely offer a parallel. add thereto the fearful destruction that follows a war among nations scientific, and it will be seen that the scientific enthusiast of the present has taken the place of the misguided fanatic of the past. let us be just. place to the credit of religion the good that religion has done, place to the credit of science the good that science is doing, and yet do not mistake, both leave in their wake an atmosphere saturated with misery, a road whitened with humanity's bones. neither the young nor the old are spared, and so far as the sufferer is concerned it matters not whether the person has been racked by the tortures of an inquisition, or the sword of an infidel, is shrieking in the agony of a scald by super-heated steam, or is mangled by an explosion of nitroglycerin." again he hesitated. "go on." "one of science's most serious responsibilities, from which religion has nearly escaped, is that of supplying thought-food to fanatics, and from this science can not escape." "explain yourself." "who places the infidel in possession of arguments to combat sacred teachings? who deliberately tortures animals, and suggests that biological experimentation in the name of science, before cultured audiences even, is legitimate, such as making public dissections of living creatures?" "enough, enough," i cried, thinking of his crazed anatomist, and covering my face with my hands; "you make my blood creep." "yes," he added sarcastically; "you shudder now and criticise my truthful study, and to-morrow you will forget the lesson, and perhaps for dinner you will relish your dish of veal, the favorite food of mothers, the nearest approach to the flesh of babies." then his manner changed, and in his usual mild, pleasant way, he said: "take what i have said kindly; i wish only to induce your religious part to have more charity for your scientific self, and the reverse. both religion and science are working towards the good of man, although their devotees are human, and by human errors bring privations, sufferings, and sorrows to men. neither can fill the place of the other; each should extend a helping hand, and have charity for the shortcomings of the other; they are not antagonists, but workers in one field; both must stand the criticisms of mutual antagonists, and both have cause to fear the evils of fanaticism within their own ranks more than the attacks of opponents from without. let the religious enthusiast exercise care; his burning, earnest words may lead a weak-minded father to murder an innocent family, and yet 'tis not religion that commits the crime. let the zealous scientific man hesitate; he piles up fuel by which minds unbalanced, or dispositions perverted, seek to burn and destroy hopes that have long served the yearnings of humanity's soul. neither pure religion nor true science is to blame for the acts of its devotees, and yet each must share the responsibility of its human agents." "we will discuss the subject no further," i said; "it is not agreeable." then i continued: "the idea of eternity without time is not quite clear to me, although i catch an imperfect conception of the argument advanced. do you mean to say that when a soul leaves the body, the earth life of the individual, dominated by the soul, is thrown off from it as is the snap of a whip-lash, and that into the point between life and death, the hereafter of that mortal may be concentrated?" "i simply give you the words of my guide," he replied, "but you have expressed the idea about as well as your word language will admit. such a conception of eternity is more rational to one who, like myself, has lived through an instant that covered, so far as mind is concerned, a million years of time, than is an attempt to grasp a conception of an eternity, without beginning or end, by basing an argument on conditions governing material substances, as these substances are known to man. you have the germ of the idea which may be simply a thought for you to ponder over; you can study the problem at your leisure. do not, however, i warn you, attempt to comprehend the notion of eternity by throwing into it the conception of time as men accept that term, for the very word time, as men define it, demands that there be both a beginning and an end. with the sense of time in one's mind, there can be no conception of the term eternity." then, as i had so often done before, i unwarily gave him an opportunity to enlarge on his theme, to my disadvantage. i had determined not to ask any questions concerning his replies to my criticism, for whenever i had previously done so, the result had been disastrous to me. in this case i unwittingly said: "why do you say that our language will not permit of clearer conceptions than you give?" "because your education does not permit you to think outside of words; you are word-bound." "you astonish me by making such an arrogant assertion. do you mean to assert that i can not think without using words?" "yes. every thought you indulge in is circumscribed. you presumably attempt to throw a thought-line forward, and yet you step backward and spin it in words that have been handed you from the past, and, struggle as you may, you can not liberate yourself from the dead incubus. attempt to originate an idea, and see if you can escape your word-master?" "go on; i am listening." "men scientific think in language scientific. men poetical think in language poetic. all educated men use words in thinking of their subjects, words that came to them from the past, and enslave their intellect. thus it is that the novelist can not make fiction less real than is fact; that scientists can not commence at the outside, and build a theory back to phenomena understood. in each case the foundation of a thought is a word that in the very beginning carries to the mind a meaning, a something from the past. each thought ramification is an offshoot from words that express ideas and govern ideas, yes, create ideas, even dominating the mind. men speak of ideas when they intend to refer to an image in the mind, but in reality they have no ideas outside of the word sentences they unconsciously reformulate. define the term idea correctly, and it will be shown that an idea is a sentence, and if a sentence is made of words already created, there can be no new idea, for every word has a fixed meaning. hence, when men think, they only rearrange words that carry with themselves networks of ideas, and thus play upon their several established meanings. how can men so circumscribed construct a new idea or teach a new science?" "new words are being created." "language is slowly progressing, but no new word adds itself to a language; it is linked to thought-chains that precede. in order to create a word, as a rule, roots are used that are as established in philology as are building materials in architecture. when a new sound is thrust into a language, its intent must be introduced by words already known, after which it conveys a meaning derived from the past, and becomes a part of mind sentences already constructed, as it does of spoken language. language has thus been painfully and slowly evolved and is still being enlarged, but while new impressions may be felt by an educated person, the formulated feeling is inseparable, from well-known surviving words." "some men are dumb." "yes; and yet they frame mind-impressions into unspoken words of their own, otherwise they would be scarcely more than animals. place an uneducated dumb person in a room with a complicated instrument, and although he may comprehend its uses, he can not do so unless he frames sense-impressions into, what is to him, a formulated mind-word sequence." "but he can think about it." "no; unless he has already constructed previous impressions into word-meanings of his own, he can not think about it at all. words, whether spoken or unspoken, underlie all ideas. try, if you believe i am mistaken, try to think of any subject outside of words?" i sat a moment, and mentally attempted the task, and shook my head. "then," said the old man, "how can i use words with established meanings to convey to your senses an entirely new idea? if i use new sounds, strung together, they are not words to you, and convey no meaning; if i use words familiar, they reach backward as well as forward. thus it is possible to instruct you, by a laborious course of reasoning, concerning a phenomenon that is connected with phenomena already understood by you, for your word-language can be thrust out from the parent stalk, and can thus follow the outreaching branches. however, in the case of phenomena that exist on other planes, or are separated from any known material, or force, as is the true conception that envelops the word eternity, there being neither connecting materials, forces, nor words to unite the outside with the inside, the known with the unknown, how can i tell you more than i have done? you are word-bound." "nevertheless, i still believe that i can think outside of words." "well, perhaps after you attempt to do so, and fail again and again, you will appreciate that a truth is a truth, humiliating as it may be to acknowledge the fact." "a digger indian has scarcely a word-language," i asserted, loth to relinquish the argument. "you can go farther back if you desire, back to primitive man; man without language at all, and with ideas as circumscribed as those of the brutes, and still you have not strengthened your argument concerning civilized man. but you are tired, i see." "yes; tired of endeavoring to combat your assertions. you invariably lead me into the realms of speculation, and then throw me upon the defensive by asking me to prove my own theories, or with apparent sincerity, you advance an unreasonable hypothesis, and then, before i am aware of your purpose, force me to acquiesce because i can not find facts to confute you. you very artfully throw the burden of proof on me in all cases, for either by physical comparisons that i can not make, i must demonstrate the falsity of your metaphysical assertions, or by abstract reasonings disprove statements you assert to be facts." "you are peevish and exhausted, or you would perceive that i have generally allowed you to make the issue, and more than once have endeavored to dissuade you from doing so. besides, did i not several times in the past bring experimental proof to dispel your incredulity? have i not been courteous?" "yes," i petulantly admitted; "yes." then i determined to imitate his artful methods, and throw him upon the defensive as often as he had done with me. i had finally become familiar with his process of arguing a question, for, instead of coming immediately to his subject, he invariably led by circuitous route to the matter under discussion. before reaching the point he would manage to commit me to his own side of the subject, or place me in a defenseless position. so with covert aim i began: "i believe that friction is one method of producing heat." "yes." "i have been told that the north american indians make fires by rubbing together two pieces of dry wood." "true." "i have understood that the light of a shooting star results from the heat of friction, producing combustion of its particles." "partly," he answered. "that when the meteoric fragment of space dust strikes the air, the friction resulting from its velocity heats it to redness, fuses its surface, or even burns its very substance into ashes." "yes." "i have seen the spindle of a wheel charred by friction." "yes." "i have drawn a wire rapidly through a handkerchief tightly grasped in my hands, and have warmed the wire considerably in doing so." "yes." i felt that i had him committed to my side of the question, and i prepared to force him to disprove the possibility of one assertion that he had made concerning his journey. "you stated that you rode in a boat on the underground lake." "yes." "with great rapidity?" "yes." "rapid motion produces friction, i believe?" "yes." "and heat?" "yes." "why did not your boat become heated even to redness? you rode at the rate of nine hundred miles an hour," i cried exultingly. "for two reasons," he calmly replied; "two natural causes prevented such a catastrophe." and again he warned me, as he had done before, by saying: "while you should not seek for supernatural agencies to account for any phenomena in life, for all that is is natural, neither should you fail to study the differences that varying conditions produce in results already known. a miracle ceases to be a miracle when we understand the scientific cause underlying the wonder; occultism is natural, for if there be occult phenomena they must be governed by natural law; mystery is not mysterious if the veil of ignorance that envelops the investigator is lifted. what you have said is true concerning the heat that results from friction, but-- "first, the attraction of gravitation was inconsiderable where the boat, to which you refer, rested on the water. "second, the changing water carried away the heat as fast as it was produced. while it is true that a cannon ball becomes heated in its motion through the air, its surface is cooled when it strikes a body of water, notwithstanding that its great velocity is altogether overcome by the water. the friction between the water and the iron does not result in heated iron, but the contrary. the water above the rapids of a river has practically the temperature of the water below the rapids, regardless of the friction that ensues between these points. admit, however, that heat is liberated as the result of the friction of solids with water, and still it does not follow that this heat will perceptibly affect the solid. with a boat each particle of water carries the heat away, each succeeding portion of water takes up the heat liberated by that preceding it. thus the great body of water, over which our boat sped, in obedience to the ordinary law, became slightly warmed, but its effect upon the boat was scarcely perceptible. your comparison of the motion of a meteor, with that of our boat, was unhappy. we moved rapidly, it is true, in comparison with the motion of vessels such as you know, but comparison can not be easily drawn between the velocity of a boat and that of a meteor. while we moved at the rate of many miles a minute, a meteor moves many times faster, perhaps as many miles in a second. then you must remember that the force of gravitation was so slight in our position that--" "enough," i interrupted. "we will pass the subject. it seems that you draw upon science for knowledge to support your arguments, however irrational they may be, and then you sneer at this same method of argument when i employ it." he replied to my peevish complaint with the utmost respect by calling to my attention the fact that my own forced argument had led to the answer, and that he had simply replied to my attacks. said he: "if i am wrong in my philosophy, based on your science thought, i am right in my facts, and science thought is thus in the wrong, for facts overbalance theory. i ask you only to give me the attention that my statements merit. i am sincere, and aim to serve your interests. should investigation lead you hereafter to infer that i am in error, at our final interview you can have my considerate attention. be more charitable, please." then he added: "is there any other subject you wish to argue?" "yes," i answered, and again my combativeness arose; "yes. one of the truly edifying features of your narrative is that of the intelligent guide," and i emphasized the word intelligent, and curled up my lip in a sarcastic manner. "proceed." "he was verily a wonderful being; an eyeless creature, and yet possessed of sight and perception beyond that of mortal man; a creature who had been locked in the earth, and yet was more familiar with its surface than a philosopher; a cavern-bred monstrosity, and yet possessed of the mind of a sage; he was a scientific expert, a naturalist, a metaphysical reasoner, a critic of religion, and a prophet. he could see in absolute darkness as well as in daylight; without a compass he could guide a boat over a trackless sea, and could accomplish feats that throw gulliver and munchausen into disrepute." in perfect composure my aged guest listened to my cynical, and almost insulting tirade. he made no effort to restrain my impetuous sentences, and when i had finished replied in the polished language of a scholarly gentleman. "you state truly, construe my words properly, as well as understand correctly." then he continued musingly, as though speaking to himself: "i would be at fault and deserve censure did i permit doubts to be thrown upon so clear a subject, or discredit on so magnanimous a person." turning to me he continued: "certainly i did not intend to mislead or to be misunderstood, and am pleased to find you so earnest a scholar." and then in his soft, mild manner, he commenced his detail reply, pouring oil upon the waters of my troubled soul, his sweet, melodious voice being so in contrast to my rash harangue. he began with his expressive and often repeated word, "listen." [illustration: "we passed through caverns filled with creeping reptiles."] "listen. you are right, my guide was a being wonderful to mortals. he was eyeless, but as i have shown you before, and now swear to the fact, was not sightless; surely," he said, "surely you have not forgotten that long ago i considered the phenomenal instinct at length. he predicted the future by means of his knowledge of the past--there is nothing wonderful in that. can not a civil engineer continue a line into the beyond, and predict where the projection of that line will strike; can he not also calculate the effect that a curve will have on his line's destiny? why should a being conversant with the lines and curves of humanity's journey for ages past not be able to indicate the lines that men must follow in the future? of course he could guide the boat, in what was to me a trackless waste of water, but you err in asserting that i had said he did not have a guide, even if it were not a compass. many details concerning this journey have not been explained to you; indeed, i have acquainted you with but little that i experienced. near surface earth we passed through caverns filled with creeping reptiles; through others we were surrounded by flying creatures, neither beast nor bird; we passed through passages of ooze and labyrinths of apparently interminable intra-earth structures; to have disported on such features of my journey would have been impracticable. from time to time i experienced strains of melody, such as never before had i conceived, seemingly choruses of angels were singing in and to my very soul. from empty space about me, from out the crevices beyond and behind me, from the depths of my spirit within me, came these strains in notes clear and distinct, but yet indescribable. did i fancy, or was it real? i will not pretend to say. flowers and structures beautiful, insects gorgeous and inexplicable were spread before me. figures and forms i can not attempt to indicate in word descriptions, ever and anon surrounded, accompanied, and passed me by. the canvas conceptions of earth-bred artists bring to mind no forms so strange and weird and yet so beautiful as were these compound beings. restful beyond description was it to drink in the indescribable strains of poetry of motion that i appreciated in the movements of fair creatures i have not mentioned, and it was no less soothing to experience the soul relief wrought by the sounds about me, for musicians know no notes so sweet and entrancing. "there were also, in side caverns to which i was led, combinations of sounds and scenes in which floating strains and fleeting figures were interwoven and interlaced so closely that the senses of both sight and hearing became blended into a single sense, new, weird, strange, and inexpressible. as flavor is the combination of odor and taste, and is neither taste nor odor, so these sounds and scenes combined were neither scenes nor sounds, but a complex sensation, new, delicious. sometimes i begged to be permitted to stop and live forever 'mid those heavenly charms, but with as firm a hand as when helping me through the chambers of mire, ooze, and creeping reptiles, my guide drew me onward. "but to return to the subject. as to my guide being a cavern-bred monstrosity, i do not remember to have said that he was cavern-bred, and if i have forgotten a fact, i regret my short memory. did i say that he was always a cavern being? did i assert that he had never lived among mortals of upper earth? if so, i do not remember our conversation on that subject. he was surely a sage in knowledge, as you have experienced from my feeble efforts in explaining the nature of phenomena that were to you unknown, and yet have been gained by me largely through his instruction. he was a metaphysician, as you assert; you are surely right; he was a sincere, earnest reasoner and teacher. he was a conscientious student, and did not by any word lead me to feel that he did not respect all religions, and bow to the creator of the universe, its sciences, and its religions. his demeanor was most considerate, his methods faultless, his love of nature deep, his patience inexhaustible, his sincerity unimpeachable. yes," the old man said; "you are right in your admiration of this lovely personage, and when you come to meet this being as you are destined yet to do--for know now that you too will some day pass from surface earth, and leave only your name in connection with this story of myself--you will surely then form a still greater love and a deeper respect for one so gifted, and yet so self-sacrificing." "old man," i cried, "you mock me. i spoke facetiously, and you answer literally. know that i have no confidence in your sailor-like tales, your marco polo history." "ah! you discredit marco polo? and why do you doubt?" "because i have never seen such phenomena, i have never witnessed such occurrences. i must see a thing to believe it." "and so you believe only what you see?" he queried. "yes." "now answer promptly," he commanded, and his manner changed as by magic to that of a master. "did you ever see greenland?" "no." "iceland?" "no." "a geyser?" "no." "a whale?" "no." "england?" "no." "france?" "no." "a walrus?" "no." "then you do not believe that these conditions, countries, and animals have an existence?" "of course they have." "why?" "others have seen them." "ah," he said; "then you wish to modify your assertion--you only believe what others have seen?" "excepting one person," i retorted. then he continued, seemingly not having noticed my personal allusion: "have you ever seen your heart?" i hesitated. "answer," he commanded. "no." "your stomach?" "no." "have you seen the stomach of any of your friends?" "no." "the back of your head?" i became irritated, and made no reply. "answer," he again commanded. "i have seen its reflection in a glass." "i say no," he replied; "you have not." "you are impudent," i exclaimed. "not at all," he said, good humoredly; "how easy it is to make a mistake. i venture to say that you have never seen the reflection of the back of your head in a mirror." "your presumption astounds me." "i will leave it to yourself." he took a hand-glass from the table and held it behind my head. "now, do you see the reflection?" "no; the glass is behind me." "ah, yes; and so is the back of your head." "look," i said, pointing to the great mirror on the bureau; "look, there is the reflection of the back of my head." "no; it is the reflection of the reflection in my hand-glass." "you have tricked me; you quibble!" "well," he said, ignoring my remark; "what do you believe?" "i believe what others have seen, and what i can do." "excluding myself as to what others have seen," he said facetiously. "perhaps," i answered, relenting somewhat. "has any man of your acquaintance seen the middle of africa?" "no." "the center of the earth?" "no." "the opposite side of the moon?" "no." "the soul of man?" "no." "heat, light, electricity?" "no." "then you do not believe that africa has a midland, the earth a center, the moon an opposite side, man a soul, force an existence?" "you distort my meaning." "well, i ask questions in accord with your suggestions, and you defeat yourself. you have now only one point left. you believe only what _you_ can do?" [illustration: "flowers and structures beautiful, insects gorgeous."] "yes." "i will rest this case on one statement, then, and you may be the judge." "agreed." "you can not do what any child in cincinnati can accomplish. i assert that any other man, any other woman in the city can do more than you can. no cripple is so helpless, no invalid so feeble as not, in this respect, to be your superior." "you insult me," i again retorted, almost viciously. "do you dispute the assertion seriously?" "yes." "well, let me see you kiss your elbow." involuntarily i twisted my arm so as to bring the elbow towards my mouth, then, as i caught the full force of his meaning, the ridiculous result of my passionate wager came over me, and i laughed aloud. it was a change of thought from the sublime to the ludicrous. the white-haired guest smiled in return, and kindly said: "it pleases me to find you in good humor at last. i will return to-morrow evening and resume the reading of my manuscript. in the meantime take good exercise, eat heartily, and become more cheerful." he rose and bowed himself out. the old man continues his manuscript. chapter xliv. the fathomless abyss.--the edge of the earth shell. promptly at eight o'clock the next evening the old man entered my room. he did not allude to the occurrences of the previous evening, and for this considerate treatment i felt thankful, as my part in those episodes had not been enviable. he placed his hat on the table, and in his usual cool and deliberate manner, commenced reading as follows: for a long time thereafter we journeyed on in silence, now amid stately stone pillars, then through great cliff openings or among gigantic formations that often stretched away like cities or towns dotted over a plain, to vanish in the distance. then the scene changed, and we traversed magnificent avenues, bounded by solid walls which expanded into lofty caverns of illimitable extent, from whence we found ourselves creeping through narrow crevices and threading winding passages barely sufficient to admit our bodies. for a considerable period i had noted the absence of water, and as we passed from grotto to temple reared without hands, it occurred to me that i could not now observe evidence of water erosion in the stony surface over which we trod, and which had been so abundant before we reached the lake. my guide explained by saying in reply to my thought question, that we were beneath the water line. he said that liquids were impelled back towards the earth's surface from a point unnoticed by me, but long since passed. neither did i now experience hunger nor thirst, in the slightest degree, a circumstance which my guide assured me was perfectly natural in view of the fact that there was neither waste of tissue nor consumption of heat in my present organism. [illustration: "with fear and trembling i crept on my knees to his side."] at last i observed far in the distance a slanting sheet of light that, fan-shaped, stood as a barrier across the way; beyond it neither earth nor earth's surface appeared. as we approached, the distinctness of its outline disappeared, and when we came nearer, i found that it streamed into the space above, from what appeared to be a crevice or break in the earth that stretched across our pathway, and was apparently limitless and bottomless. "is this another hallucination?" i queried. "no; it is a reality. let us advance to the brink." slowly we pursued our way, for i hesitated and held back. i had really begun to distrust my own senses, and my guide in the lead was even forced to demonstrate the feasibility of the way, step by step, before i could be induced to follow. at length we neared the edge of the chasm, and while he stood boldly upright by the brink, with fear and trembling i crept on my knees to his side, and together we faced a magnificent but fearful void that stretched beneath and beyond us, into a profundity of space. i peered into the chamber of light, that indescribable gulf of brilliancy, but vainly sought for an opposite wall; there was none. as far as the eye could reach, vacancy, illuminated vacancy, greeted my vision. the light that sprung from that void was not dazzling, but was possessed of a beauty that no words can suggest. i peered downward, and found that we stood upon the edge of a shelving ledge of stone that receded rapidly beneath us, so that we seemed to rest upon the upper side of its wedge-like edge. i strained my vision to catch a glimpse of the bottom of this chasm, but although i realized that my eyes were glancing into miles and miles of space, there was no evidence of earthly material other than the brink upon which we stood. the limit of vision seemed to be bounded by a silvery blending of light with light, light alone, only light. the dead silence about, and the new light before me, combined to produce a weird sensation, inexplicable, overpowering. a speck of dust on the edge of immensity, i clung to the stone cliff, gazing into the depths of that immeasurable void. chapter xlv. my heart throb is stilled, and yet i live. "it now becomes my duty to inform you that this is one of the stages in our journey that can only be passed by the exercise of the greatest will force. owing to our former surroundings upon the surface of the earth, and to your inheritance of a so-called instinctive education, you would naturally suppose that we are now on the brink of an impassable chasm. this sphere of material vacuity extends beneath us to a depth that i am sure you will be astonished to learn is over six thousand miles. we may now look straight into the earth cavity, and this streaming light is the reflected purity of the space below. the opposite side of this crevice, out of sight by reason of its distance, but horizontally across from where we stand, is precipitous and comparatively solid, extending upward to the material that forms the earth's surface. we have, during our journey, traversed an oblique, tortuous natural passage, that extends from the spot at which you entered the cave in kentucky, diagonally down into the crust of the globe, terminating in this shelving bluff. i would recall to your mind that your journey up to this time has been of your own free will and accord. at each period of vacillation--and you could not help but waver occasionally--you have been at liberty to return to surface earth again, but each time you decided wisely to continue your course. you can now return if your courage is not sufficient to overcome your fear, but this is the last opportunity you will have to reconsider, while in my company." "have others overcome the instinctive terrors to which you allude?" "yes; but usually the dread of death, or an unbearable uncertainty, compels the traveler to give up in despair before reaching this spot, and the opportunity of a lifetime is lost. yes; an opportunity that occurs only in the lifetime of one person out of millions, of but few in our brotherhood." "then i can return if i so elect?" "certainly." "will you inform me concerning the nature of the obstacle i have to overcome, that you indicate by your vague references?" "we must descend from this cliff." "you can not be in earnest." "why?" "do you not see that the stone recedes from beneath us, that we stand on the edge of a wedge overhanging bottomless space?" "that i understand." "there is no ladder," and then the foolish remark abashed me as i thought of a ladder six thousand miles in length. "go on." he made no reference to my confusion. "there is practically no bottom," i asserted, "if i can believe your words; you told me so." "and that i reiterate." "the feat is impracticable, impossible, and only a madman would think of trying to descend into such a depth of space." then an idea came over me; perhaps there existed a route at some other point of the earth's crevice by which we could reach the under side of the stone shelf, and i intimated as much to the guide. "no; we must descend from this point, for it is the only entrance to the hollow beneath." we withdrew from the brink, and i meditated in silence. then i crept again to the edge of the bluff, and lying flat on my chest, craned my head over, and peered down into the luminous gulf. the texture of the receding mineral was distinctly visible for a considerable distance, and then far, far beneath all semblance to material form disappeared--as the hull of a vessel fades in deep, clear water. as i gazed into the gulf it seemed evident that, as a board floating in water is bounded by water, this rock really ended. i turned to my guide and questioned him. "stone in this situation is as cork," he replied; "it is nearly devoid of weight; your surmise is correct. we stand on the shelving edge of a cliff of earthly matter, that in this spot slants upward from beneath like the bow of a boat. we have reached the bottom of the film of space dust on the bubble of energy that forms the skeleton of earth." i clutched the edge of the cliff with both hands. "be not frightened; have i not told you that if you wish to return you can do so. now hearken to me: "a short time ago you endeavored to convince me that we could not descend from this precipice, and you are aware that your arguments were without foundation. you drew upon your knowledge of earth materials, as you once learned them, and realized at the time that you deluded yourself in doing so, for you know that present conditions are not such as exist above ground. you are now influenced by surroundings that are entirely different from those that govern the lives of men upon the earth's surface. you are almost without weight. you have nearly ceased to breathe, as long since you discovered, and soon i hope will agree entirely to suspend that harsh and wearying movement. your heart scarcely pulsates, and if you go with me farther in this journey, will soon cease to beat." i started up and turned to flee, but he grasped and held me firmly. "would you murder me? do you think i will mutely acquiesce, while you coolly inform me of your inhuman intent, and gloat over the fact that my heart will soon be as stone, and that i will be a corpse?" he attempted to break in, but i proceeded in frenzy. "i _will_ return to upper earth, to sunshine and humanity. i _will_ retreat while yet in health and strength, and although i have in apparent willingness accompanied you to this point, learn now that at all times i have been possessed of the means to defend myself from personal violence." i drew from my pocket the bar of iron. "see, this i secreted about my person in the fresh air of upper earth, the sweet sunshine of heaven, fearing that i might fall into the hands of men with whom i must combat. back, back," i cried. he released his hold of my person, and folded his arms upon his breast, then quietly faced me, standing directly between myself and the passage we had trod, while i stood on the brink, my back to that fearful chasm. by a single push he could thrust me into the fathomless gulf below, and with the realization of that fact, i felt that it was now a life and death struggle. with every muscle strained to its utmost tension, with my soul on fire, my brain frenzied, i drew back the bar of iron to smite the apparently defenseless being in the forehead, but he moved not, and as i made the motion, he calmly remarked: "do you remember the history of hiram abiff?" [illustration: "i drew back the bar of iron to smite the apparently defenseless being in the forehead."] the hand that held the weapon dropped as if stricken by paralysis, and a flood of recollections concerning my lost home overcame me. i had raised my hand against a brother, the only being of my kind who could aid me, or assist me either to advance or recede. how could i, unaided, recross that glassy lake, and pass through the grotesque forests of fungi and the labyrinth of crystal grottoes of the salt bed? how could i find my way in the utter darkness that existed in the damp, soppy, dripping upper caverns that i must retrace before i could hope to reach the surface of the earth? "forgive me," i sobbed, and sunk at his feet. "forgive me, my friend, my brother; i have been wild, mad, am crazed." he made no reply, but pointed over my shoulder into the space beyond. i turned, and in the direction indicated, saw, in amazement, floating in the distant space a snow- and ice-clad vessel in full sail. she was headed diagonally from us, and was moving rapidly across the field of vision. every spar and sail was clearly defined, and on her deck, and in the rigging i beheld sailors clad in winter garments pursuing their various duties. as i gazed, enraptured, she disappeared in the distance. "a phantom vessel," i murmured. "no," he replied; "the abstraction of a vessel sailing on the ocean above us. every object on earth is the second to an imprint in another place. there is an apparent reproduction of matter in so-called vacancy, and on unseen pages a recording of all events. as that ship sailed over the ocean above us, she disturbed a current of energy, and it left its impress as an outline on a certain zone beneath, which is parallel with that upon which we now chance to stand." "i can not comprehend," i muttered. "no," he answered; "to you it seems miraculous, as to all men an unexplained phenomenon approaches the supernatural. all that is is natural. have men not been told in sacred writings that their every movement is being recorded in the book of life, and do they not often doubt because they can not grasp the problem? may not the greatest scientist be the most apt skeptic?" "yes," i replied. "you have just seen," he said, "the record of an act on earth, and in detail it is being printed elsewhere in the book of eternity. if you should return to earth's surface you could not by stating these facts convince even the persons on that same ship, of your sanity. you could not make them believe that hundreds of miles beneath, both their vessel and its crew had been reproduced in fac simile, could you?" "no." "were you to return to earth you could not convince men that you had existed without breath, with a heart dead within you. if you should try to impress on mankind the facts that you have learned in this journey, what would be the result?" "i would probably be considered mentally deranged; this i have before admitted." "would it not be better then," he continued, "to go with me, by your own free will, into the unknown future, which you need fear less than a return to the scoffing multitude amid the storms of upper earth? you know that i have not at any time deceived you. i have, as yet, only opened before you a part of one rare page out of the boundless book of nature; you have tasted of the sweets of which few persons in the flesh have sipped, and i now promise you a further store of knowledge that is rich beyond conception, if you wish to continue your journey." "what if i decide to return?" "i will retrace my footsteps and liberate you upon the surface of the earth, as i have others, for few persons have courage enough to pass this spot." "binding me to an oath of secrecy?" [illustration: "sprung from the edge of the cliff into the abyss below, carrying me with him into its depths."] "no," he answered; "for if you relate these events men will consider you a madman, and the more clearly you attempt to explain the facts that you have witnessed, the less they will listen to you; such has been the fate of others." "it is, indeed, better for me to go with you," i said musingly; "to that effect my mind is now made up, my course is clear, i am ready." with a motion so quick in conception, and rapid in execution that i was taken altogether by surprise, with a grasp so powerful that i could not have repelled him, had i expected the movement and tried to protect myself, the strange man, or being beside me, threw his arms around my body. then, as a part of the same movement, he raised me bodily from the stone, and before i could realize the nature of his intention, sprung from the edge of the cliff into the abyss below, carrying me with him into its depths. chapter xlvi. the inner circle, or the end of gravitation.--in the bottomless gulf. i recall a whirling sensation, and an involuntary attempt at self-preservation, in which i threw my arms wildly about with a vain endeavor to clutch some form of solid body, which movement naturally ended by a tight clasping of my guide in my arms, and locked together we continued to speed down into the seven thousand miles of vacancy. instinctively i murmured a prayer of supplication, and awaited the approaching hereafter, which, as i believed, would quickly witness the extinction of my unhappy life, the end of my material existence; but the moments (if time can be so divided when no sun marks the division) multiplied without bodily shock or physical pain of any description; i retained my consciousness. "open your eyes," said my guide, "you have no cause for fear." i acquiesced in an incredulous, dazed manner. "this unusual experience is sufficient to unnerve you, but you need have no fear, for you are not in corporal danger, and can relax your grasp on my person." i cautiously obeyed him, misgivingly, and slowly loosened my hold, then gazed about to find that we were in a sea of light, and that only light was visible, that form of light which i have before said is an entity without source of radiation. in one direction, however, a great gray cloud hung suspended and gloomy, dark in the center, and shading therefrom in a circle, to disappear entirely at an angle of about forty-five degrees. "this is the earth-shelf from which we sprung," said the guide; "it will soon disappear." wherever i glanced this radiant exhalation, a peaceful, luminous envelope, this rich, soft, beautiful white light appeared. the power of bodily motion i found still a factor in my frame, obedient, as before, to my will. i could move my limbs freely, and my intellect seemed to be intact. finally i became impressed with the idea that i must be at perfect rest, but if so what could be the nature of the substance, or material, upon which i was resting so complacently? no; this could not be true. then i thought: "i have been instantly killed by a painless shock, and my spirit is in heaven;" but my earthly body and coarse, ragged garments were palpable realities; the sense of touch, sight, and hearing surely were normal, and a consideration of these facts dispelled my first conception. "where are we now?" "moving into earth's central space." "i comprehend that a rushing wind surrounds us which is not uncomfortable, but otherwise i experience no unusual sensation, and can not realize but that i am at rest." "the sensation, as of a blowing wind, is in consequence of our rapid motion, and results from the friction between our bodies and the quiescent, attenuated atmosphere which exists even here, but this atmosphere becomes less and less in amount until it will disappear altogether at a short distance below us. soon we will be in a perfect calm, and although moving rapidly, to all appearances will be at absolute rest." naturally, perhaps, my mind attempted, as it so often had done, to urge objections to his statements, and at first it occurred to me that i did not experience the peculiar sinking away sensation in the chest that i remembered follows, on earth, the downward motion of a person falling from a great height, or moving rapidly in a swing, and i questioned him on the absence of that phenomenon. "the explanation is simple," he said; "on the surface of the earth a sudden motion, either upward or downward, disturbs the equilibrium of the organs of respiration, and of the heart, and interferes with the circulation of the blood. this produces a change in blood pressure within the brain, and the 'sinking' sensation in the chest, or the dizziness of the head of a person moving rapidly, or it may even result in unconsciousness, and complete suspension of respiration, effects which sometimes follow rapid movements, as in a person falling from a considerable height. here circumstances are entirely different. the heart is quiet, the lungs in a comatose condition, and the blood stagnant. mental sensations, therefore, that result from a disturbed condition of these organs are wanting, and, although we are experiencing rapid motion, we are in the full possession of our physical selves, and maintain our mental faculties unimpaired." again i interposed an objection: "if, as you say, we are really passing through an attenuated atmosphere with increasing velocity, according to the law that governs falling bodies that are acted upon by gravity which continually accelerates their motion, the friction between ourselves and the air will ultimately become so intense as to wear away our bodies." "upon the contrary," said he, "this attenuated atmosphere is decreasing in density more rapidly than our velocity increases, and before long it will have altogether disappeared. you can perceive that the wind, as you call it, is blowing less violently than formerly; soon it will entirely cease, as i have already predicted, and at that period, regardless of our motion, we will appear to be stationary." pondering over the final result of this strange experience i became again alarmed, for accepting the facts to be as he stated, such motion would ultimately carry us against the opposite crust of the earth, and without a doubt the shock would end our existence. i inquired about this, to me, self-evident fact, and he replied: "long before we reach the opposite crust of the earth, our motion will be arrested." i had begun now to feel a self-confidence that is surprising as i recall that remarkable position in connection with my narrow experience in true science, and can say that instead of despondency, i really enjoyed an elated sensation, a curious exhilaration, a feeling of delight, which i have no words to describe. life disturbances and mental worry seemed to have completely vanished, and it appeared as if, with mental perception lucid, i were under the influence of a powerful soporific; the cares of mortals had disappeared. after a while the wind ceased to blow, as my guide had predicted, and with the suspension of that factor, all that remained to remind me of earth phenomena had vanished. there was no motion of material, nothing to mar or disturb the most perfect peace imaginable; i was so exquisitely happy that i now actually feared some change might occur to interrupt that quiescent existence. it was as a deep, sweet sleep in which, with faculties alive, unconsciousness was self-conscious, peaceful, restful, blissful. i listlessly turned my eyes, searching space in all directions--to meet vacancy everywhere, absolute vacancy. i took from my pocket (into which i had hastily thrust it) the bar of iron, and released it; the metal remained motionless beside me. "traveling through this expanse with the rapidity of ourselves," said my guide. i closed my eyes and endeavored to convince myself that i was dreaming--vainly, however. i opened my eyes, and endeavored to convince myself that i was moving, equally in vain. i became oblivious to everything save the delicious sensation of absolute rest that enveloped and pervaded my being. "i am neither alive nor dead," i murmured; "neither asleep nor awake; neither moving nor at rest, and neither standing, reclining, nor sitting. if i exist i can not bring evidence to prove that fact, neither can i prove that i am dead." "can any man prove either of these premises?" said the guide. "i have never questioned the matter," said i; "it is a self-evident fact." "know then," said he, "that existence is a theory, and that man is incapable of demonstrating that he has a being. all evidences of mortal life are only as the phantasms of hallucination. as a moment in dreamland may span a life of time, the dreamer altogether unconscious that it is a dream, so may life itself be a shadow, the vision of a distempered fancy, the illusion of a floating thought." "are pain, pleasure, and living, imaginary creations?" i asked facetiously. "is there a madman who does not imagine, as facts, what others agree upon as hallucinations peculiar to himself? is it not impossible to distinguish between different gradations of illusions, and is it not, therefore, possible that even self-existence is an illusion? what evidence can any man produce to prove that his idea of life is not a madman's dream?" "proceed," i said. "at another time, perhaps," he remarked; "we have reached the inner circle, the sphere of rest, the line of gravity, and now our bodies have no weight; at this point we begin to move with decreased speed, we will soon come to a quiescent condition, a state of rest, and then start back on our rebound." chapter xlvii. hearing without ears.--"what will be the end?" a flood of recollections came over me, a vivid remembrance of my earth-learned school philosophy. "i rebel again," i said, "i deny your statements. we can neither be moving, nor can we be out of the atmosphere. fool that i have been not to have sooner and better used my reasoning faculties, not to have at once rejected your statements concerning the disappearance of the atmosphere." "i await your argument." "am i not speaking? is other argument necessary? have i not heard your voice, and that, too, since you asserted that we had left the atmosphere?" "continue." "have not men demonstrated, and is it not accepted beyond the shadow of a doubt, that sound is produced by vibrations of the air?" "you speak truly; as men converse on surface earth." "this medium--the air--in wave vibrations, strikes upon the drum of the ear, and thus impresses the brain," i continued. "i agree that such is the teachings of your philosophy; go on." "it is unnecessary; you admit the facts, and the facts refute you; there must be an atmosphere to convey sound." "can not you understand that you are not now on the surface of the earth? will you never learn that the philosophy of your former life is not philosophy here? that earth-bound science is science only with surface-earth men? here science is a fallacy. all that you have said is true of surface earth, but your argument is invalid where every condition is different from the conditions that prevail thereon. you use the organs of speech in addressing me as you once learned to use them, but such physical efforts are unnecessary to convey sense-impressions in this condition of rest and complacency, and you waste energy in employing them. you assert and believe that the air conveys sound; you have been taught such theories in support of a restricted philosophy; but may i ask you if a bar of iron, a stick of wood, a stream of water, indeed any substance known to you placed against the ear will not do the same, and many substances even better than the atmosphere?" "this i admit." "will you tell me how the vibration of any of these bodies impresses the seat of hearing?" "it moves the atmosphere which strikes upon the tympanum of the ear." "you have not explained the phenomenon; how does that tympanic membrane communicate with the brain?" "by vibrations, i understand," i answered, and then i began to feel that this assertion was a simple statement, and not sufficient to explain how matter acts upon mind, whatever mind may be, and i hesitated. "pray do not stop," he said; "how is it that a delicate vibrating film of animal membrane can receive and convey sound to a pulpy organic mass that is destitute of elasticity, and which consists mostly of water, for the brain is such in structure, and vibrations like those you mention, can not, by your own theory, pass through it as vibrations through a sonorous material, or even reach from the tympanum of the ear to the nearest convolution of the brain." "i can not explain this, i admit," was my reply. "pass that feature, then, and concede that this tympanic membrane is capable of materially affecting brain tissue by its tiny vibrations, how can that slimy, pulpy formation mostly made up of water, communicate with the soul of man, for you do not claim, i hope, that brain material is either mind, conscience, or soul?" i confessed my inability to answer or even to theorize on the subject, and recognizing my humiliation, i begged him to open the door to such knowledge. "the vibration of the atmosphere is necessary to man, as earthy man is situated," he said. "the coarser attributes known as matter formations are the crudities of nature, dust swept from space. man's organism is made up of the roughest and lowest kind of space materials; he is surrounded by a turbulent medium, the air, and these various conditions obscure or destroy the finer attributes of his ethereal nature, and prevent a higher spiritual evolution. his spiritual self is enveloped in earth, and everywhere thwarted by earthy materials. he is insensible to the finer influences of surrounding media by reason of the overwhelming necessity of a war for existence with the grossly antagonistic materialistic confusion that everywhere confronts, surrounds, and pervades him. such a conflict with extraneous matter is necessary in order that he may retain his earthy being, for, to remain a mortal, he must work to keep body and soul together. his organs of communication and perception are of 'earth, earthy'; his nature is cast in a mold of clay, and the blood within him gurgles and struggles in his brain, a whirlpool of madly rushing liquid substances, creating disorder in the primal realms of consciousness. he is ignorant of this inward turmoil because he has never been without it, as ignorant as he is of the rank odors of the gases of the atmosphere that he has always breathed, and can not perceive because of the benumbed olfactory nerves. thus it is that all his subtler senses are inevitably blunted and perverted, and his vulgar nature preponderates. the rich essential part of his own self is unknown, even to himself. the possibility of delight and pleasure in an acquaintance with the finer attributes of his own soul is clouded by this shrouding materialistic presence that has, through countless generations, become a part of man, and he even derives most of his mental pleasures from such acts as tend to encourage the animal passions. thus it follows that the sensitive, highly developed, extremely attenuated part of his inner being has become subservient to the grosser elements. the baser part of his nature has become dominant. he remains insensible to impressions from the highly developed surrounding media which, being incapable of reaching his inner organism other than through mechanical agencies, are powerless to impress. alas, only the coarser conditions of celestial phenomena can affect him, and the finer expressions of the universe of life and force are lost to his spiritual apprehension." "would you have me view the soul of man as i would a material being?" "surely," he answered; "it exists practically as does the more gross forms of matter, and in exact accord with natural laws. associated with lower forms of matter, the soul of man is a temporary slave to the enveloping substance. the ear of man as now constituted can hear only by means of vibrations of such media as conduct vibrations in matter--for example, the air; but were man to be deprived of the organs of hearing, and then exist for generations subject to evolutions from within, whereby the acuteness of the spirit would become intensified, or permitted to perform its true function, he would learn to communicate soul to soul, not only with mankind, but with beings celestial that surround, and are now unknown to him. this he would accomplish through a medium of communication that requires neither ear nor tongue. to an extent your present condition is what men call supernatural, although in reality you have been divested of only a part of your former material grossness, which object has been accomplished under perfectly natural conditions; your mind no longer requires the material medium by which to converse with the spiritual. we are conversing now by thought contact, there is no atmosphere here, your tongue moves merely from habit, and not from necessity. i am reading your mind as you in turn are mine, neither of us is speaking as you were accustomed to speak." "i can not accept that assertion," i said; "it is to me impossible to realize the existence of such conditions." "as it is for any man to explain any phenomenon in life," he said. "do you not remember that you ceased to respire, and were not conscious of the fact?" "yes." "that your heart had stopped beating, your blood no longer circulated, while you were in ignorance of the change?" "that is also true." "now i will prove my last assertion. close your mouth, and think of a question you wish to propound." i did so, and to my perfect understanding and comprehension he answered me with closed mouth. "what will be the end?" i exclaimed, or thought aloud. "i am possessed of nearly all the attributes that i once supposed inherent only in a corpse, yet i live, i see clearly, i hear plainly, i have a quickened being, and a mental perception intensified and exquisite. why and how has this been accomplished? what will be the result of this eventful journey?" "restful, you should say," he remarked; "the present is restful, the end will be peace. now i will give you a lesson concerning the words why and how that you have just used." chapter xlviii. why and how.--"the struggling ray of light from those farthermost outreaches." "confronting mankind there stands a sphinx--the vast unknown. however well a man may be informed concerning a special subject, his farthermost outlook concerning that subject is bounded by an impenetrable infinity." "granted," i interrupted, "that mankind has not by any means attained a condition of perfection, yet you must admit that questions once regarded as inscrutable problems are now illuminated by the discoveries of science." "and the 'discovered,' as i will show, has only transferred ignorance to other places," he replied. "science has confined its labors to superficial descriptions, not the elucidation of the fundamental causes of phenomena." "i can not believe you, and question if you can prove what you say." "it needs no argument to illustrate the fact. science boldly heralds her descriptive discoveries, and as carefully ignores her explanatory failures. she dare not attempt to explain the why even of the simplest things. why does the robin hop, and the snipe walk? do not tell me this is beneath the notice of men of science, for science claims that no subject is outside her realm. search your works on natural history and see if your man of science, who describes the habits of these birds, explains the reason for this evident fact. how does the tree-frog change its color? do not answer me in the usual superficial manner concerning the reflection of light, but tell me why the skin of that creature is enabled to perform this function? how does the maple-tree secrete a sweet, wholesome sap, and deadly nightshade, growing in the same soil and living on the same elements, a poison? what is it that your scientific men find in the cells of root, or rootlet, to indicate that one may produce a food, and the other a noxious secretion that can destroy life? your microscopist will discuss cell tissues learnedly, will speak fluently of physiological structure, will describe organic intercellular appearances, but ignore all that lies beyond. why does the nerve in the tongue respond to a sensation, and produce on the mind the sense of taste? what is it that enables the nerve in the nose to perform its discriminative function? you do not answer. silver is sonorous, lead is not; why these intrinsic differences? aluminum is a light metal, gold a heavy one; what reason can you offer to explain the facts other than the inadequate term density? mercury at ordinary temperature is a liquid; can your scientist tell why it is not a solid? of course anyone can say because its molecules move freely on each other. such an answer evades the issue; why do they so readily exert this action? copper produces green or blue salts; nickel produces green salts; have you ever been told why they observe these rules? water solidifies at about thirty-two degrees above your so-called zero; have you ever asked an explanation of your scientific authority why it selects that temperature? alcohol dissolves resins, water dissolves gums; have you any explanation to offer why either liquid should dissolve anything, much less exercise a preference? one species of turtle has a soft shell, another a hard shell; has your authority in natural history told you why this is so? the albumen of the egg of the hen hardens at one hundred and eighty degrees fahrenheit; the albumen of the eggs of some turtles can not be easily coagulated by boiling the egg in pure water; why these differences? iceland spar and dog-tooth spar are identical, both are crystallized carbonate of lime; has your mineralogist explained why this one substance selects these different forms of crystallization, or why any crystal of any substance is ever produced? why is common salt white and charcoal black? why does the dog lap and the calf drink? one child has black hair, another brown, a third red; why? search your physiology for the answer and see if your learned authority can tell you why the life-current makes these distinctions? why do the cells of the liver secrete bile, and those of the mouth saliva? why does any cell secrete anything? a parrot can speak; what has your anatomist found in the structure of the brain, tongue, or larynx of that bird to explain why this accomplishment is not as much the birthright of the turkey? the elements that form morphine and strychnine, also make bread, one a food, the other a poison; can your chemist offer any reason for the fact that morphine and bread possess such opposite characters? the earth has one satellite, saturn is encompassed by a ring; it is not sufficient to attempt to refer to these familiar facts; tell me, does your earth-bound astronomer explain why the ring of saturn was selected for that planet? why are the salts of aluminum astringent, the salts of magnesium cathartic, and the salts of arsenicum deadly poison? ask your toxicologist, and silence will be your answer. why will some substances absorb moisture from the air, and liquefy, while others become as dry as dust under like conditions? why does the vapor of sulphuric ether inflame, while the vapor of chloroform is not combustible, under ordinary conditions? oil of turpentine, oil of lemon, and oil of bergamot differ in odor, yet they are composed of the same elements, united in the same proportion; why should they possess such distinctive, individual characteristics? further search of the chemist will explain only to shove the word why into another space, as ripples play with and toss a cork about. why does the newly-born babe cry for food before its intellect has a chance for worldly education? why--" "stop," i interrupted; "these questions are absurd." "so some of your scientific experts would assert," he replied; "perhaps they would even become indignant at my presumption in asking them, and call them childish; nevertheless these men can not satisfy their own cravings in attempting to search the illimitable, and in humiliation, or irritation, they must ignore the word why. that word why to man dominates the universe. it covers all phenomena, and thrusts inquiry back from every depth. science may trace a line of thought into the infinitely little, down, down, beyond that which is tangible, and at last in that far distant inter-microscopical infinity, monstrous by reason of its very minuteness, must rest its labors against the word why. man may carry his superficial investigation into the immeasurably great, beyond our sun and his family of satellites, into the outer depths of the solar system, of which our sun is a part, past his sister stars, and out again into the depths of the cold space channels beyond; into other systems and out again, until at last the nebulæ shrink and disappear in the gloom of thought-conjecture, and as the straggling ray of light from those farthermost outreaches, too feeble to tell of its origin, or carry a story of nativity, enters his eye, he covers his face and rests his intellect against the word why. from the remote space caverns of the human intellect, beyond the field of perception, whether we appeal to conceptions of the unknowable in the infinitely little, or the immeasurably great, we meet a circle of adamant, as impenetrable as the frozen cliffs of the antarctic, that incomprehensible word--why! "why did the light wave spring into his field of perception by reflection from the microscopic speck in the depths of littleness, on the one hand; and how did this sliver of the sun's ray originate in the depths of inter-stellar space, on the other?" i bowed my head. [illustration: description of journey from k. [kentucky] to p.--"the end of earth."] chapter xlix. oscillating through space.--earth's shell above me.[ ] [ ] for detail illustration of the earth shell, as explained in this chapter, see the plate. continued my companion: "we have just now crossed the line of gravitation. we were drawn downward until at a certain point, to which i called your attention at the time, we recently crossed the curved plane of perfect rest, where gravity ceases, and by our momentum are now passing beyond that plane, and are now pressing against the bond of gravitation again. this shell in which gravity centers is concentric with that of the earth's exterior, and is about seven hundred miles below its surface. each moment of time will now behold us carried farther from this sphere of attraction, and thus the increasing distance increases the force of the restraining influence. our momentum is thus retarded, and consequently the rapidity of our motion is continually decreasing. at last when the forces of gravitation and mass motion neutralize each other, we will come to a state of rest again. when our motion in this direction ceases, however, gravitation, imperishable, continues to exert its equalizing influence, the result being a start in the opposite direction, and we will then reverse our course, and retrace our path, crossing again the central band of attraction, to retreat and fly to the opposite side of the power of greater attraction, into the expanse from which we came, and that is now above us." "can this oscillation ever end? are we to remain thus, as an unceasing pendulum, traversing space, to and fro across this invisible shell of attraction from now until the end of time?" "no; there are influences to prevent such an experience; one being the friction of the attenuated atmosphere into which we plunge each time that we cross the point of greater gravity, and approach the crust of the earth. thus each succeeding vibration is in shorter lines, and at last we will come to a state of perfect rest at the center of gravity." "i can only acquiesce in meek submission, powerless even to argue, for i perceive that the foundations for my arguments must be based on those observed conditions of natural laws formerly known to me, and that do not encompass us here; i accept, therefore, your statements as i have several times heretofore, because i can not refute them. i must close my eyes to the future, and accept it on faith; i cease to mourn the past, i can not presage the end." "well spoken," he replied; "and while we are undergoing this necessary delay, this oscillating motion, to which we must both submit before we can again continue our journey, i will describe some conditions inherent in the three spheres of which the rind of the earth is composed, for i believe that you are now ready to receive and profit by facts that heretofore you would have rejected in incredulity. "the outer circle, coat, or contour, of which you have heard others besides myself speak, is the surface crust of our globe, the great sphere of land and water on which man is at present an inhabitant. this is the exposed part of the earth, and is least desirable as a residence. it is affected by grievous atmospheric changes, and restless physical conditions, such as men, in order to exist in, must fortify against at the expense of much bodily and mental energy, which leads them, necessarily, to encourage the animal at the expense of the ethereal. the unmodified rays of the sun produce aerial convulsions that are marked by thermal contrasts, and other meteorological variations, during which the heat of summer and the cold of winter follow each other periodically and unceasingly. these successive solar pulsations generate winds, calms, and storms, and in order to protect himself against such exposures and changes in material surroundings, man toils, suffers, and comes to believe that the doom, if not the object, of life on earth is the preservation of the earthy body. all conditions and phases of nature on this outer crust are in an angry struggle, and this commotion envelops the wretched home, and governs the life of man. the surrounding cyclones of force and matter have distorted the peaceful side of what human nature might be until the shortened life of man has become a passionate, deplorable, sorrowful struggle for physical existence, from the cradle to the grave. of these facts man is practically ignorant, although each individual is aware he is not satisfied with his condition. if his afflictions were obvious to himself, his existence would be typical of a life of desolation and anguish. you know full well that the condition of the outer sphere is, as i have described it, a bleak, turbulent surface, the roof of the earth on which man exists, as a creeping parasite does on a rind of fruit, exposed to the fury of the ever-present earth storms. "the central circle, or medial sphere, the shell, or layer of gravitation, lies conformably to the outer configuration of the globe, about seven hundred miles towards its center. it stretches beneath the outer circle (sphere) as a transparent sheet, a shell of energy, the center of gravitation. the material crust of the earth rests on this placid sphere of vigor, excepting in a few places, where, as in the crevice we have entered, gaps, or crevices, in matter exist, beginning from near the outer surface and extending diagonally through the medial and inner spheres into the intra-earth space beyond. this medial sphere is a form of pure force, a disturbance of motion, and although without weight it induces, or conserves, gravity. it is invisible to mortal eyes, and is frictionless, but really is the bone of the earth. on it matter, the retarded energy of space, space dust, has arranged itself as dust collects on a bubble of water. this we call matter. the material portion of the earth is altogether a surface film, an insignificant skin over the sphere of purity, the center of gravitation. although men naturally imagine that the density and stability of the earth is dependent on the earthy particles, of which his own body is a part, such is not the case. earth, as man upon the outer surface, can now know it, is an aggregation of material particles, a shell resting on this globular sphere of medial force, which attracts solid matter from both the outer and inner surfaces of earth, forming thereby the middle of the three concentric spheres. this middle sphere is the reverse of the outer, or surface, layer in one respect, for, while it attracts solids, gases are repelled by it, and thus the atmosphere becomes less dense as we descend from the outer surfaces of the earth. the greater degree of attraction for gases belongs, therefore, to the earth's exterior surface." "exactly at the earth's exterior surface?" i asked. "practically so. the greatest density of the air is found a few miles below the surface of the ocean; the air becomes more attenuated as we proceed in either direction from that point. were this not the case, the atmosphere that surrounds the earth would be quickly absorbed into its substance, or expand into space and disappear." "scientific men claim that the atmosphere is forty-five geographical miles in depth over the earth's surface," i said. "if the earth is eight thousand miles in diameter, how long would such an atmosphere, a skin only, over a great ball, resist such attraction, and remain above the globe? were it really attracted towards its center it would disappear as a film of water sinks into a sponge." "do you know," i interrupted, "that if these statements were made to men they would not be credited? scientific men have calculated the weights of the planets, and have estimated therefrom the density of the earth, showing it to be solid, and knowing its density, they would, on this consideration alone, discredit your story concerning the earth shell." [illustration: the earth and its atmosphere. the space between the inner and the outer lines represents the atmosphere upon the earth. the depth to which man has penetrated the earth is less than the thickness of either line, as compared with the diameter of the inner circle.] "you mistake, as you will presently see. it is true that man's ingenuity has enabled him to ascertain the weights and densities of the planets, but do you mean to say that these scientific results preclude the possibility of a hollow interior of the heavenly bodies?" "i confess, i do." "you should know then, that what men define as density of the earth, is but an average value, which is much higher than that exhibited by materials in the surface layers of the earth crust, such as come within the scrutiny of man. this fact allows mortals of upper earth but a vague conjecture as to the nature of the seemingly much heavier substances that exist in the interior of the earth. have men any data on hand to show exactly how matter is distributed below the limited zone that is accessible to their investigations?" "i think not." "you may safely accept, then, that the earth shell i have described to you embraces in a compact form the total weight of the earth. even though men take for granted that matter fills out the whole interior of our planet, such material would not, if distributed as on earth's surface, give the earth the density he has determined for it." "i must acquiesce in your explanations." "let us now go a step further in this argument. what do you imagine is the nature of those heavier substances whose existence deep within the earth is suggested by the exceedingly high total density observed by man on upper earth?" "i am unable to explain, especially as the materials surrounding us here, seemingly, do not differ much from those with which my former life experience has made me acquainted." "your observation is correct, there is no essential difference in this regard. but as we are descending into the interior of this globe, and are approaching the central seat of the shell of energy, the opposing force into which we plunge becomes correspondingly stronger, and as a consequence, matter pressed within it becomes really lighter. your own experience about your weight gradually disappearing during this journey should convince you of the correctness of this fact." "indeed, it does," i admitted. "you will then readily understand, that the heavy material to which surface-bred mortals allude as probably constituting the interior of the earth, is, in fact, nothing but the manifestation of a matter-supporting force, as exemplified in the sphere of attractive energy, the seat of which we are soon to encounter on our journey. likewise the mutual attraction of the heavenly bodies is not a property solely of their material part, but an expression in which both the force-spheres and the matter collected thereon take part. "tell me more of the sphere in which gravitation is intensest." "of that you are yet to judge," he replied. "when we come to a state of rest in the stratum of greater gravity, we will then traverse this crevice in the sheet of energy until we reach the edge of the earth crust, after which we will ascend towards the interior of the earth, until we reach the inner crust, which is, as before explained, a surface of matter that lies conformably with the external crust of the earth, and which is the interior surface of the solid part of the earth. there is a concave world beneath the outer convex world." "i can not comprehend you. you speak of continuing our journey towards the center of the earth, and at the same time you say that after leaving the median circle, we will then ascend, which seems contradictory." "i have endeavored to show you that matter is resting in or on a central sphere of energy, which attracts solid bodies towards its central plane. from this fundamental and permanent seat of gravity we may regard our progress as up-hill, whether we proceed towards the hollow center or towards the outer surface of the globe. if a stick weighted on one end is floated upright in water, an insect on the top of the stick above the water will fall to the surface of the liquid, and yet the same insect will rise to the surface of the water if liberated beneath the water at the bottom of the stick. this comparison is not precisely applicable to our present position, for there is no change in medium here, but it may serve as an aid to thought and may indicate to you that which i wish to convey when i say 'we ascend' in both directions as we pull against gravity. the terms up and down are not absolute, but relative." thus we continued an undefined period in mind conversation; and of the information gained in my experience of that delightful condition, i have the privilege now to record but a small portion, and even this statement of facts appears, as i glance backward into my human existence, as if it may seem to others to border on the incredible. during all that time--i know not how long the period may have been--we were alternately passing and repassing through the partition of division (the sphere of gravity) that separated the inner from the outer substantial crust of earth. with each vibration our line of travel became shorter and shorter, like the decreasing oscillations of a pendulum, and at last i could no longer perceive the rushing motion of a medium like the air. finally my guide said that we were at perfect rest at a point in that mysterious medial sphere which, at a distance of about seven hundred miles below the level of the sea, concentrates in its encompassing curvature, the mighty power of gravitation. we were fixed seven hundred miles from the outer surface of the globe, but more than three thousand from the center. chapter l. my weight annihilated.--"tell me," i cried in alarm, "is this to be a living tomb?" "if you will reflect upon the condition we are now in, you will perceive that it must be one of unusual scientific interest. if you imagine a body at rest, in an intangible medium, and not in contact with a gas or any substance capable of creating friction, that body by the prevailing theory of matter and motion, unless disturbed by an impulse from without, would remain forever at absolute rest. we now occupy such a position. in whatever direction we may now be situated, it seems to us that we are upright. we are absolutely without weight, and in a perfectly frictionless medium. should an inanimate body begin to revolve here, it would continue that motion forever. if our equilibrium should now be disturbed, and we should begin to move in a direction coinciding with the plane in which we are at rest, we would continue moving with the same rapidity in that direction until our course was arrested by some opposing object. we are not subject to attraction of matter, for at this place gravitation robs matter of its gravity, and has no influence on extraneous substances. we are now in the center of gravitation, the 'sphere of rest.'" "let me think it out," i replied, and reasoning from his remarks, i mentally followed the chain to its sequence, and was startled as suddenly it dawned upon me that if his argument was true we must remain motionless in this spot until death (could beings in conditions like ourselves die beyond the death we had already achieved) or the end of time. we were at perfect rest, in absolute vacancy, there being, as i now accepted without reserve, neither gas, liquid, nor solid, that we could employ as a lever to start us into motion. "tell me," i cried in alarm, "is this to be a living tomb? are we to remain suspended here forever, and if not, by what method can we hope to extricate ourselves from this state of perfect quiescence?" he again took the bar of iron from my hand, and cautiously gave it a whirling motion, releasing it as he did so. it revolved silently and rapidly in space without support or pivot. "so it would continue," he remarked, "until the end of time, were it not for the fact that i could not possibly release it in a condition of absolute horizontal rest. there is a slight, slow, lateral motion that will carry the object parallel with this sheet of energy to the material side of this crevice, when its motion will 'be arrested by the earth it strikes.'" "that i can understand," i replied, and then a ray of light broke upon me. "had not cavendish demonstrated that, when a small ball of lead is suspended on a film of silk, near a mass of iron or lead, it is drawn towards the greater body? we will be drawn by gravity to the nearest cliff," i cried. "you mistake," he answered; "cavendish performed his experiments on the surface of the earth, and there gravity is always ready to start an object into motion. here objects have no weight, and neither attract nor repel each other. the force of cohesion holds together substances that are in contact, but as gravitation can not now affect matter out of molecular contact with other forms of matter, because of the equilibrium of all objects, so it may be likewise said, that bodies out of contact have at this point no attraction for one another. if they possessed this attribute, long ago we would have been drawn towards the earth cliff with inconceivable velocity. however, if by any method our bodies should receive an impulse sufficient to start them into motion, ever so gently though it be, we in like manner would continue to move in this frictionless medium--until--" "we would strike the material boundary of this crevice," i interrupted. "yes; but can you conceive of any method by which such voluntary motion can now be acquired?" "no." "does it not seem to you," he continued, "that when skillful mechanics on the earth's surface are able to adjust balances so delicately that in the face of friction of metal, friction of air, inertia of mass, the thousandth part of a grain can produce motion of the great beams and pans of such balances, we, in this location where there is no friction and no opposing medium--none at all--should be able to induce mass motion?" "i can not imagine how it is possible, unless we shove each other apart. there is no other object to push against,--but why do you continue to hold me so tightly?" i interrupted myself to ask, for he was clasping me firmly again. "in order that you may not leave me," he replied. "come, you trifle," i said somewhat irritated; "you have just argued that we are immovably suspended in a frictionless medium, and fixed in our present position; you ask me to suggest some method by which we can create motion, and i fail to devise it, and almost in the same sentence you say that you fear that i will leave you. cease your incongruities, and advise with me rationally." "where is the bar of iron?" he asked. i turned towards its former location; it had disappeared. "have you not occasionally felt," he asked, "that in your former life your mind was a slave in an earthly prison? have you never, especially in your dreams, experienced a sensation of mental confinement?" "yes." "know then," he replied, "that there is a connection between the mind and the body of mortal beings, in which matter confines mind, and yet mind governs matter. how else could the will of men and animals impart voluntary motion to earthy bodies? with beings situated as are the animals on the surface of the earth, mind alone can not overcome the friction of matter. a person could suspend himself accurately on a string, or balance himself on a pivot, and wish with the entire force of his mind that his body would revolve, and still he would remain at perfect rest." "certainly. a man would be considered crazy who attempted it," i answered. "notwithstanding your opinion, in time to come, human beings on the surface of the earth will investigate in this very direction," he replied, "and in the proper time mental evolution will, by experimentation, prove the fact of this mind and matter connection, and demonstrate that even extraneous matter may be made subservient to mind influences. on earth, mind acts on the matter of one's body to produce motion of matter, and the spirit within, which is a slave to matter, moves with it. contraries rule here. mind force acts on pure space motion, moving itself and matter with it, and that, too, without any exertion of the material body which now is a nonentity, mind here being the master." "how can i believe you?" i replied. "know, then," he said, "that we are in motion now, propelled by my will power." "prove it." "you may prove it yourself," he said; "but be careful, or we will separate forever." releasing his grasp, he directed me to wish that i were moving directly to the right. i did so; the distance widened between us. "wish intensely that you would move in a circle about me." i acquiesced, and at once my body began to circle around him. "call for the bar of iron." i did as directed, and soon it came floating out of space into my very hand. "i am amazed," i ejaculated; "yes, more surprised at these phenomena than at anything that has preceded." "you need not be; you move now under the influences of natural laws that are no more obscure or wonderful than those under which you have always existed. instead of exercising its influence on a brain, and thence indirectly on a material body, your mind force is exerting its action through energy on matter itself. matter is here subservient. it is nearly the same as vacuity, mind being a comprehensive reality. the positions we have heretofore occupied have been reversed, and mind now dominates. know, that as your body is now absolutely without weight, and is suspended in a frictionless medium, the most delicate balance of a chemist can not approach in sensitiveness the adjustment herein exemplified. your body does not weigh the fraction of the millionth part of a grain, and where there is neither material weight nor possible friction, even the attrition that on surface earth results from a needle point that rests on an agate plate is immeasurably greater in comparison. pure mind energy is capable of disturbing the equilibrium of matter in our situation, as you have seen exemplified by our movements and extraneous materials, 'dead matter' obeys the spiritual. the bar of iron obeyed your call, the spiritless metal is subservient to the demands of intelligence. but, come, we must continue our journey." grasping me again, he exclaimed: "wish with all intensity that we may move forward, and i will do the same." i did so. "we are now uniting our energies in the creation of motion," he said; "we are moving rapidly, and with continually accelerated speed; before long we will perceive the earthy border of this chasm." and yet it seemed to me that we were at perfect rest. chapter li. is that a mortal?--"the end of earth." at length i perceived, in the distance, a crescent-shaped ring of silver luster. it grew broader, expanding beneath my gaze, and appeared to approach rapidly. "hold; cease your desire for onward motion," said the guide; "we approach too rapidly. quick, wish with all your mind that you were motionless." i did so, and we rested in front of a ridge of brilliant material, that in one direction, towards the earth's outer circle, broadened until it extended upward as far as the eye could reach in the form of a bold precipice, and in the other towards the inner world, shelved gradually away as an ocean beach might do. "tell me, what is this barrier?" i asked. "it is the bisected edge of the earth crevice," he said. "that overhanging upright bluff reaches towards the external surface of the earth, the land of your former home. that shelving approach beneath is the entrance to the 'inner circle,' the concavity of our world." again we approached the visible substance, moving gently under the will of my guide. the shore became more distinctly outlined as we advanced, inequalities that were before unnoticed became perceptible, and the silver-like material resolved itself into ordinary earth. then i observed, upright and motionless, on the edge of the shore that reached toward the inner shell of earth, towards that "unknown country" beyond, a figure in human form. "is that a mortal?" i asked. "are we nearing humanity again?" "it is a being of mortal build, a messenger who awaits our coming, and who is to take charge of your person and conduct you farther," he replied. "it has been my duty to crush, to overcome by successive lessons your obedience to your dogmatic, materialistic earth philosophy, and bring your mind to comprehend that life on earth's surface is only a step towards a brighter existence, which may, when selfishness is conquered, in a time to come, be gained by mortal man, and while he is in the flesh. the vicissitudes through which you have recently passed should be to you an impressive lesson, but the future holds for you a lesson far more important, the knowledge of spiritual, or mental evolution which men may yet approach; but that i would not presume to indicate now, even to you. your earthly body has become a useless shell, and when you lay it aside, as you soon can do, as i may say you are destined to do, you will feel a relief as if an abnormal excrescence had been removed; but you can not now comprehend such a condition. that change will not occur until you have been further educated in the purely occult secrets for which i have partly prepared you, and the material part of your organism will at any time thereafter come and go at command of your will. on that adjacent shore, the person you have observed, your next teacher, awaits you." "am i to leave you?" i cried in despair, for suddenly the remembrance of home came into my mind, and the thought, as by a flash, that this being alone could guide me back to earth. "recall your words, do not desert me now after leading me beyond even alchemistic imaginings into this subterranean existence, the result of what you call your natural, or pure, ethereal lessons." he shook his head. "i beg of you, i implore of you, not to abandon me now; have you no compassion, no feeling? you are the one tie that binds me to earth proper, the only intelligence that i know to be related to a human in all this great, bright blank." again he shook his head. [illustration: "suspended in vacancy, he seemed to float."] "hearken to my pleadings. listen to my allegation. you stood on the edge of the brook spring in kentucky, your back to the darkness of that gloomy cavern, and i voluntarily gave you my hand as to a guide; i turned from the verdure of the earth, the sunshine of the past, and accompanied you into as dismal a cavern as man ever entered. i have since alternately rebelled at your methods, and again have trusted you implicitly as we passed through scenes that rational imagination scarce could conjure. i have successively lost my voice, my weight, my breath, my heart throb, and my soul for aught i know. now an unknown future awaits me on the one hand, in which you say my body is to disappear, and on the other you are standing, the only link between earth and my self-existence, a semi-mortal it may be, to speak mildly, for god only knows your true rank in life's scale. be you man or not, you brought me here, and are responsible for my future safety. i plead and beg of you either to go on with me into the forthcoming uncertainty 'within the unknown country' to which you allude, or carry me back to upper earth." he shook his head again, and motioned me onward, and his powerful will overcoming my feeble resistance, impelled me towards that mysterious shore. i floated helpless, as a fragment of camphor whirls and spins on a surface of clear, warm water, spinning and whirling aimlessly about, but moving onward. my feet rested on solid earth, and i awkwardly struggled a short distance onward and upward, and then stepped upon the slope that reached, as he had said, inward and upward towards the unrevealed "inner circle." i had entered now that mysterious third circle or sphere, and i stood on the very edge of the wonderful land i was destined to explore, "the unknown country." the strange, peaceful being whom i had observed on the shore, stepped to my side, and clasped both my hands, and the guide of former days waved me an adieu. i sank upon my knees and imploringly raised my arms in supplication, but the comrade of my journey turned about, and began to retrace his course. suspended in vacancy, he seemed to float as a spirit would if it were wafted diagonally into the heavens, and acquiring momentum rapidly, became quickly a bright speck, seemingly a silver mote in the occult earth shine of that central sphere, and soon vanished from view. in all my past eventful history there was nothing similar to or approaching in keenness the agony that i suffered at this moment, and i question if shipwrecked sailor or entombed miner ever experienced the sense of utter desolation that now possessed and overcame me. light everywhere about me, ever-present light, but darkness within, darkness indescribable, and mental distress unutterable. i fell upon my face in agony, and thought of other times, and those remembrances of my once happy upper earth life became excruciatingly painful, for when a person is in misery, pleasant recollections, by contrast, increase the pain. "let my soul die now as my body has done," i moaned; "for even mental life, all i now possess, is a burden. the past to me is a painful, melancholy recollection; the future is--" i shuddered, for who could foretell my future? i glanced at the immovable being with the sweet, mild countenance, who stood silent on the strand beside me, and whom i shall not now attempt to describe. he replied: "the future is operative and speculative. it leads the contemplative to view with reverence and admiration the glorious works of the creator, and inspires him with the most exalted ideas of the perfections of his divine creator." then he added: "have you accepted that whatever seems to be is not, and that that which seems not to be, is? have you learned that facts are fallacies, and physical existence a delusion? do you accept that material bliss is impossible, and that while humanity is working towards the undiscovered land, man is not, can not be satisfied?" "yes," i said; "i admit anything, everything. i do not know that i am here or that you are there. i do not know that i have ever been, or that any form of matter has ever had an existence. perhaps material things are not, perhaps vacuity only is tangible." "are you willing to relinquish your former associations, to cease to concern yourself in the affairs of men? do you--" he hesitated, seemed to consider a point that i could not grasp; then, without completing his sentence, or waiting for me to answer, added: "come, my friend, let us enter the expanses of the unknown country. you will soon behold the original of your vision, the hope of humanity, and will rest in the land of etidorhpa. come, my friend, let us hasten." arm in arm we passed into that domain of peace and tranquillity, and as i stepped onward and upward perfect rest came over my troubled spirit. all thoughts of former times vanished. the cares of life faded; misery, distress, hatred, envy, jealousy, and unholy passions, were blotted from existence. excepting my love for dear ones still earth-enthralled, and the strand of sorrow that, stretching from soul to soul, linked us together, the past became a blank. i had reached the land of etidorhpa-- the end of earth. interlude. chapter lii. the last farewell. my mysterious guest, he of the silver, flowing beard, read the last word of the foregoing manuscript, and then laid the sheet of paper on the table, and rested his head upon his hand, gazing thoughtfully at the open fire. thus he sat for a considerable period in silence. then he said: "you have heard part of my story, that portion which i am commanded to make known now, and you have learned how, by natural methods, i passed by successive steps while in the body, to the door that death only, as yet, opens to humanity. you understand also that, although of human form, i am not as other men (for with me matter is subservient to mind), and as you have promised, so you must act, and do my bidding concerning the manuscript." "but there is surely more to follow. you will tell me of what you saw and experienced beyond the end of earth, within the possessions of etidorhpa. tell me of that unknown country." "no," he answered; "this is the end, at least so far as my connection with you is concerned. you still question certain portions of my narrative, i perceive, notwithstanding the provings i have given you, and yet as time passes investigation will show that every word i have read or uttered is true, historically, philosophically, and spiritually (which you now doubt), and men will yet readily understand how the seemingly profound, unfathomable phenomena i have encountered may be verified. i have studied and learned by bitter experience in a school that teaches from the outgoings of a deeper philosophy than human science has reached, especially modern materialistic science which, however, step by step it is destined to reach. and yet i have recorded but a small part of the experiences that i have undergone. what i have related is only a foretaste of the inexhaustible feast which, in the wisdom expanse of the future, will yet be spread before man, and which tempts him onward and upward. this narrative, which rests against the beginning of my real story, the unknown country and its possibilities should therefore incite to renewed exertions, both mental and experimental, those permitted to review it. i have carried my history to the point at which i can say to you, very soon afterward i gave up my body temporarily, by a perfectly natural process, a method that man can yet employ, and passed as a spiritual being into the ethereal spaces, through those many mansions which i am not permitted to describe at this time, and from which i have been forced unwillingly to return and take up the semblance of my body, in order to meet you and record these events. i must await the development and expansion of mind that will permit men to accept this faithful record of my history before completing the narrative, for men are yet unprepared. men must seriously consider those truths which, under inflexible natural laws, govern the destiny of man, but which, if mentioned at this day can only be viewed as the hallucinations of a disordered mind. to many this manuscript will prove a passing romance, to others an enigma, to others still it will be a pleasing study. men are not now in a condition to receive even this paper. that fact i know full well, and i have accordingly arranged that thirty years shall pass before it is made public. then they will have begun to study more deeply into force disturbances, exhibitions of energy that are now known and called imponderable bodies (perhaps some of my statements will then even be verified), and to reflect over the connection of matter therewith. a few minds will then be capable of vaguely conceiving possibilities, which this paper will serve to foretell, for a true solution of the great problems of the ethereal unknown is herein suggested, the study of which will lead to a final elevation of humanity, such as i dare not prophesy." "much of the paper is obscure to me," i said; "and there are occasional phrases and repetitions that appear to be interjected, possibly, with an object, and which are yet disconnected from the narrative proper." "that is true; the paper often contains statements that are emblematical, and which you can not understand, but yet such portions carry to others a hidden meaning. i am directed to speak to many persons besides yourself, and i can not meet those whom i address more directly than i do through this communication. these pages will serve to instruct many people--people whom you will never know, to whom i have brought messages that will in secret be read between the lines." "why not give it to such persons?" "because i am directed to bring it to you," he replied, "and you are required: "first, to seal the manuscript, and place it in the inner vault of your safe. "second, to draw up a will, and provide in case of your death, that after the expiration of thirty years from this date, the seals are to be broken, and a limited edition published in book form, by one you select. "third, an artist capable of grasping the conceptions will at the proper time be found, to whom the responsibility of illustrating the volume is to be entrusted, he receiving credit therefor. only himself and yourself (or your selected agent) are to presume to select the subjects for illustration. "fourth, in case you are in this city, upon the expiration of thirty years, you are to open the package and follow the directions given in the envelope therein." and he then placed on the manuscript a sealed envelope addressed to myself. "this i have promised already," i said. "very well," he remarked, "i will bid you farewell." "wait a moment; it is unjust to leave the narrative thus uncompleted. you have been promised a future in comparison with which the experiences you have undergone, and have related to me, were tame; you had just met on the edge of the inner circle that mysterious being concerning whom i am deeply interested, as i am in the continuation of your personal narrative, and you have evidently more to relate, for you must have passed into that unknown country. you claim to have done so, but you break the thread in the most attractive part by leaving the future to conjecture." "it must be so. this is a history of man on earth, the continuation will be a history of man within the unknown country." "and i am not to receive the remainder of your story?" i reiterated, still loth to give it up. "no; i shall not appear directly to you again. your part in this work will have ended when, after thirty years, you carry out the directions given in the sealed letter which, with this manuscript, i entrust to your care. i must return now to the shore that separated me from my former guide, and having again laid down this semblance of a body, go once more into--" he buried his face in his hands and sobbed. yes; this strange, cynical being whom i had at first considered an impertinent fanatic, and then, more than once afterward, had been induced to view as a cunning impostor, or to fear as a cold, semi-mortal, sobbed like a child. "it is too much," he said, seemingly speaking to himself; "too much to require of one not yet immortal, for the good of his race. i am again with men, nearly a human, and i long to go back once more to my old home, my wife, my children. why am i forbidden? the sweets of paradise can not comfort the mortal who must give up his home and family, and yet carry his earth-thought beyond. man can not possess unalloyed joys, and blessings spiritual, and retain one backward longing for mundane subjects, and i now yearn again for my earth love, my material family. having tasted of semi-celestial pleasures in one of the mansions of that complacent, pure, and restful sphere, i now exist in the border land, but my earth home is not relinquished, i cling as a mortal to former scenes, and crave to meet my lost loved ones. all of earth must be left behind if paradise is ever wholly gained, yet i have still my sublunary thoughts. "etidorhpa! etidorhpa!" he pleaded, turning his eyes as if towards one i could not see, "etidorhpa, my old home calls. thou knowest that the beginning of man on earth is a cry born of love, and the end of man on earth is a cry for love; love is a gift of etidorhpa, and thou, etidorhpa, the soul of love, should have compassion on a pleading mortal." he raised his hands in supplication. "have mercy on me, etidorhpa, as i would on you if you were i and i were etidorhpa." then with upturned face he stood long and silent, listening. "ah," he murmured at last, as if in reply to a voice i could not catch, a voice that carried to his ear an answer of deep disappointment; "thou spokest truly in the vision, etidorhpa: it is love that enslaves mankind; love that commands; love that ensnares and rules mankind, and thou, etidorhpa, art the soul of love. true it is that were there no etidorhpa, there would still be tears on earth, but the cold, meaningless tears of pain only. no mourning people, no sorrowful partings, no sobbing mothers kneeling with upturned faces, no planting of the myrtle and the rose on sacred graves. there would be no child-love, no home, no tomb, no sorrow, no beyond--" he hesitated, sank upon his knees, pleadingly raised his clasped hands and seemed to listen to that far-off voice, then bowed his head, and answered: "yes; thou art right, etidorhpa--although thou bringest sorrow to mortals, without thee and this sorrow-gift there could be no bright hereafter. thou art just, etidorhpa, and always wise. love is the seed, and sorrow is the harvest, but this harvest of sadness is to man the richest gift of love, the golden link that joins the spirit form that has fled to the spirit that is still enthralled on earth. were there no earth-love, there could be no heart-sorrow; were there no craving for loved ones gone, the soul of man would rest forever a brother of the clod. he who has sorrowed and not profited by his sorrow-lesson, is unfitted for life. he who heeds best his sorrow-teacher is in closest touch with humanity, and nearest to etidorhpa. she who has drank most deeply of sorrow's cup has best fitted herself for woman's sphere in life, and a final home of immortal bliss. i will return to thy realms, etidorhpa, and this silken strand of sorrow wrapped around my heart, reaching from earth to paradise and back to earth, will guide at last my loved ones to the realms beyond--the home of etidorhpa." rising, turning to me, and subduing his emotion, ignoring this outburst, he said: "if time should convince you that i have related a faithful history, if in after years you come to learn my name (i have been forbidden to speak it), and are convinced of my identity, promise me that you will do your unbidden guest a favor." [illustration: "i stood alone in my room holding the mysterious manuscript."] "this i will surely do; what shall it be?" "i left a wife, a little babe, and a two-year-old child when i was taken away, abducted in the manner that i have faithfully recorded. in my subsequent experience i have not been able to cast them from my memory. i know that through my error they have been lost to me, and will be until they change to the spirit, after which we will meet again in one of the waiting mansions of the great beyond. i beg you to ascertain, if possible, if either my children, or my children's children live, and should they be in want, present them with a substantial testimonial. now, farewell." he held out his hand, i grasped it, and as i did so, his form became indistinct, and gradually disappeared from my gaze, the fingers of my hand met the palm in vacancy, and with extended arms i stood alone in my room, holding the mysterious manuscript, on the back of which i find plainly engrossed: "there are more things in heaven and earth, horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." epilogue. letter accompanying the mysterious manuscript. the allotted thirty years have passed, and as directed, i, llewellyn drury, now break the seals, and open the envelope accompanying the mysterious package which was left in my hand, and read as follows: herein find the epilogue to your manuscript. also a picture of your unwelcome guest, i--am--the--man, which you are directed to have engraved, and to use as a frontispiece to the volume. there are men yet living to bear witness to my identity, who will need but this picture to convince them of the authenticity of the statements in the manuscript, as it is the face of one they knew when he was a young man, and will recognize now that he is in age. do not concern yourself about the reception of the work, for you are in no wise responsible for its statements. interested persons, if living, will not care to appear in public in connection therewith, and those who grasp and appreciate, who can see the pertinence of its truths, who can read between the lines and have the key to connected conditions, will assuredly keep their knowledge of these facts locked in their own bosoms, or insidiously oppose them, and by their silence or their attacks cover from men outside the fraternity, their connection with the unfortunate author. they dare not speak. revise the sentences; secure the services of an editor if you desire, and induce another to publish the book if you shrink from the responsibility, but in your revision do not in any way alter the meaning of the statements made in the manuscript; have it copied for the printer, and take no part in comments that may arise among men concerning its reception.[ ] those who are best informed regarding certain portions thereof, will seemingly be least interested in the book, and those who realize most fully these truths, will persistently evade the endorsement of them. the scientific enthusiast, like the fraternity to which i belong, if appealed to, will obstruct the mind of the student either by criticism or ridicule, for many of these revelations are not recorded in his books. [ ] from a review of the fac simile (see p. ), it will be seen that an exact print word for word could not be expected. in more than one instance subsequent study demonstrated that the first conception was erroneous, and in the interview with etidorhpa (see p. ), after the page had been plated, it was discovered that the conveyed meaning was exactly the reverse of the original. luckily the error was discovered in time to change the verse, and leave the spirit of this fair creature unblemished.--j. u. l. you are at liberty to give in your own language as a prologue the history of your connection with the author, reserving, however, if you desire to do so, your personality, adding an introduction to the manuscript, and, as interludes, every detail of our several conversations, and of your experience. introduce such illustrations as the selected artist and yourself think proper in order to illuminate the statements. do not question the advisability of stating all that you know to have occurred; write the whole truth, for although mankind will not now accept as fact all that you and i have experienced, strange phases of life phenomena are revealing themselves, and humanity will yet surely be led to a higher plane. as men investigate the points of historical interest, and the ultra-scientific phenomena broached in this narrative, the curtain of obscurity will be drawn aside, and evidence of the truths contained in these details will be disclosed. finally, you must mutilate a page of the manuscript that you may select, and preserve the fragment intact and in secret. do not print another edition unless you are presented with the words of the part that is missing.[ ] [ ] i have excised a portion (see p. ).--j. u. l. (signed.) i--am--the--man. note by mr. drury.--thus the letter ended. after mature consideration it has been decided to give verbatim most of the letter, and all of the manuscript, and to append, as a prologue, an introduction to the manuscript, detailing exactly the record of my connection therewith, including my arguments with professors chickering and vaughn, whom i consulted concerning the statements made to me directly by its author. i will admit that perhaps the opening chapter in my introduction may be such as to raise in the minds of some persons a question concerning my mental responsibility, for as the principal personage in this drama remarks: "mankind can not now accept as facts what i have seen." yet i walk the streets of my native city, a business man of recognized thoughtfulness and sobriety, and i only relate on my own responsibility what has to my knowledge occurred. it has never been intimated that i am mentally irresponsible, or speculative, and even were this the case, the material proof that i hold, and have not mentioned as yet, and may not, concerning my relations with this remarkable being, effectually disproves the idea of mental aberration, or spectral delusion. besides, many of the statements are of such a nature as to be verified easily, or disproved by any person who may be inclined to repeat the experiments suggested, or visit the localities mentioned. the part of the whole production that will seem the most improbable to the majority of persons, is that to which i can testify from my own knowledge, as related in the first portion and the closing chapter. this approaches necromancy, seemingly, and yet in my opinion, as i now see the matter, such unexplained and recondite occurrences appear unscientific, because of the shortcomings of students of science. occult phenomena, at some future day, will be proved to be based on ordinary physical conditions to be disclosed by scientific investigations [for "all that is is natural, and science embraces all things"], but at present they are beyond our perception; yes, beyond our conception. whether i have been mesmerized, or have written in a trance, whether i have been the subject of mental aberration, or have faithfully given a life history to the world, whether this book is altogether romance, or carries a vein of prophecy, whether it sets in motion a train of wild speculations, or combines playful arguments, science problems, and metaphysical reasonings, useful as well as entertaining, remains for the reader to determine. so far as i, llewellyn drury, am concerned, this is-- the end. [illustration: handwritten script] had the above communication and the missing fragment of manuscript been withheld (see page ), it is needless to say that this second edition of etidorhpa would not have appeared. on behalf of the undersigned, who is being most liberally scolded by friends and acquaintances who can not get a copy of the first edition, and on behalf of these same scolding mortals, the undersigned extends to i-am-the-man the collective thanks of those who scold and the scolded.--j. u. l. [illustration: handwritten script] this introduction, which in the author's edition was signed by the writer, is here reprinted in order that my views of the book be not misconstrued.--j. u. l. the life of prof. daniel vaughn by prof. richard nelson to which is added an account of his death by father eugene brady, s.j. [illustration: prof. daniel vaughn.] story of the life of prof. daniel vaughn.[ ] [ ] reprinted from the cincinnati tribune. by prof. richard nelson. his valuable library showing marks of much study. twelve years' record in the chair of chemistry at the cincinnati college of medicine. [a paper read before the literary club by prof. richard nelson.] few men, if any, so eminent in science and philosophy have been known to live and die in such obscurity as the subject of this paper. a mathematician whose knowledge has never been fathomed, an original investigator in terrestrial and celestial chemistry, most of whose speculations are now accepted as law; a contributor to the philosophical journals of europe, whose papers were received with distinguished favor; an astronomer, who, in those papers, ventured to differ with laplace, and, too, as will be shown, a man skilled in classical scholarship, yet unknown to his nearest neighbors and recognized by only a few in his own city. he lived and died in obscurity and poverty in a city distinguished for its schools of science and art, and the liberality and public spirit of its men of wealth; who, if any, were to blame? one object of this paper is to unravel the mystery. his birthplace and parentage. daniel vaughn was born in the year at glenomara, four miles from killaloe, county clare, ireland. his father's name was john, who had two brothers, daniel and patrick. john, like daniel, was educated for the church, but, being the eldest son, remained on the farm. daniel became, subsequently, the parish priest of killaloe, and in was ordained bishop. john vaughn had three children, daniel (the subject of this paper), owen and margaret, afterward mrs. kent. the distance to the nearest school being four irish miles, john had his sons educated by a tutor till they were prepared to enter a classical academy. at the age of about sixteen dan, as he was familiarly called, was placed under the care of his uncle and namesake at killaloe, where he entered the academy. there the young student pursued the study of greek, latin and mathematics, giving some attention to certain branches of physics, for which he evinced peculiar aptitude. he emigrates and finds a home. about the year his uncle, desirous of having the young man enter the church, advanced him a sum of money to defray his expenses at a theological school in cork, but on seeing the american liners when he reached queenstown, the temptation to take the voyage to the land of promise was too great for the young adventurer to resist, so he secured a passage to new york. when at school he made wonderful advancement in study, especially in higher mathematics, and felt he ought to go to a country where he could be free to pursue his favorite line of thought and where attainments in science would not be circumscribed, as in the church. of his voyage and subsequent wanderings little is known until he reached kentucky. that he visited many schools and paid his way in part by teaching there is no question. the college of the late dr. campbell, in virginia, was one of the institutions visited, but he felt he must push on to kentucky. about he had reached the blue grass region, near the home of the late colonel stamps, in bourbon county. the colonel saw him engaged at work and was quick to observe that the stranger was no common man. taking him to his house and supplying his wants, the colonel soon installed him as his guest, and eventually made him instructor of his children. access to the colonel's library was a boon to the stranger, developing in him traits of genius of which his host was very proud. it was only a short time till the neighboring farmers heard of the distinguished young scholar, and desired to have the more mature members of their families under his care. a school was opened in the colonel's house for instruction in the higher mathematics, the classics, geology, physical geography and astronomy. the young people were pleased with their teacher and made commendable progress, but the curriculum was too varied and comprehensive for an instructor, who, though far advanced in scholarship, had not yet studied the art of teaching. accepts a professorship. in he accepted the chair of greek in a neighboring college, which afforded him leisure for his scientific pursuits. after an absence of seven years the professor returned to his old friend, colonel stamps and family, where he remained some two years, leaving them to settle in cincinnati. during his stay at the colonel's ( ) he became a member of the american association for the advancement of science, and in contributed to it his first article, entitled "on the motions of numerous small bodies and the phenomena resulting therefrom." having accumulated a valuable collection of books on science and philosophy and obtained access to several libraries, public and private, in the city, he was now in a condition to devote most of his time and energies to his favorite sciences. for subsistence he delivered lectures before teachers' institutes and colleges till , when an affection of the lungs compelled him to abandon the lecture field. in the meantime he had offered papers for publication to silliman's journal, the principal scientific magazine of america at that time, but, receiving no response to his communications and being denied publication, he took the advice of a friend and sent his subsequent articles to the british association for the advancement of science and to the philosophic magazine, where they were received with favor. he was much gratified to find his article on "meteoric astronomy" published in the report of the liverpool meeting of the association in . six papers, which he subsequently sent in , and , met with similar favor. for several years he visited schools, colleges and teachers' institutes in oxford, lebanon, cleveland and other cities, lecturing on his favorite branches of science. it had been his intention to popularize the science of physical astronomy by the publication of tracts or pamphlets. publishes pamphlets. in the year , at the request of teachers before whom he had lectured at the institutes, and with a view to popularize scientific knowledge, the professor commenced the publication of pamphlets. the first number treated of "the geological agency of water and subterranean forces." only two of these pamphlets came into the possession of the administrator. one of them was a good-sized volume, as may be inferred from the following articles it contained: "the influence of magnitude on stability." "the doctrine of gravitation." "theory of tides." "effects of tides." "cases of excessive tidal action and planetary instability." "the rings of saturn." "the supposed influence of satellites in preserving planetary rings." "movements of comets." "the tails of comets." "mass and density of comets." "cometary catastrophes." "phenomena attending the fall of meteors." "the origin of solar and meteoric light." "variable stars and the sun's spots." "temporary stars." "electrical light and the aurora borealis." "proof of the stability of the solar system," with an appendix. some of these subjects had been treated of at greater length and published by american and british associations for the advancement of science. he sent to the british association for the advancement of science: "cases of planetary instability indicated by the appearance of temporary stars." "appearance of temporary stars." other papers appeared: "note on the sunspots," philosophical magazine for december, . "on the solar spots and variable stars," idem, vol. , p. . "changes in the conditions of celestial bodies," an essay. "the origin of worlds," popular science monthly, may, . "planetary rings and new stars," popular science monthly, february, . "astronomical history of worlds," idem, september, . "on the stability of satellites in small orbits and the theory of saturn's rings," philosophical magazine, may, . "on the origin of the asteroids." contributed to the american association for the advancement of science. "static and dynamic stability in the secondary systems," philosophical magazine, december, . "on phenomena which may be traced to the presence of a medium pervading all space," idem, may , . the professor contributed to other publications on both sides of the atlantic, but as he failed to retain copies of the articles or of the magazines in which they were published, doubtless many papers of interest are among the number. the year found the professor possessed of a valuable collection of books, the accumulation of ten or fifteen years, all showing the marks of wear, some of them besmeared with the drippings from his candle. among them were works of some of the most prominent authors in branches of theoretical and practical science. those of laplace, kepler, tycho-brahe, leibnitz, herschel, newton and others, together with many pamphlets and periodicals, composed his library. he possessed a familiar knowledge of the german, french, italian and spanish languages, and of ancient greek and latin. many of his papers appeared in the continental languages. it may be here stated that for the eminent astronomer, laplace, as a scientist and writer, prof. vaughn entertained great respect, though he could not accept his nebular hypothesis, because important parts of it would not bear mathematical investigation. [the proof is in the papers in my possession.--n.] in an article of the professor to the popular science monthly (february, ) is a case of the kind, showing that the distinguished astronomer ignored his own famous theory. the article reads: "in endeavoring to account for the direct motion in secondary systems laplace contends that, in consequence of friction the supposed primitive solar rings would have a greater velocity in their outer than in their inner zones. now, if friction is to counteract to such an extent the normal effects of gravitation, it must be an eternal bar against the origin of worlds by nebulous dismemberment, and if the ring of attenuated matter were placed under the circumstances suggested by the eminent astronomer, it would be ultimately doomed, not to form a planet, but to coalesce with the immense spheroid of fiery vapor it was supposed to have environed." it is interesting to know that the theory of our professor was the correct one, as proved by a recent discovery of prof. james e. keeler, astronomer of the allegheny observatory. as announced in a daily paper: "prof. james e. keeler, of the allegheny observatory, has made a wonderful discovery. it is a scientific and positive demonstration of the fact that the rings of saturn are made up of many small bodies and that the satellites of the inner edge of the rings move faster than the outer." as to satellites, prof. vaughn, in the paper quoted, page , states: "the matter spread over the wide annular fields is ever urged by its own attraction to collect together and form satellites, which are ever destroyed by attractive disturbance of the primary, and have their parts scattered once more over a wide space." installed as professor of chemistry. the professor was elected to the chair of chemistry in the cincinnati college of medicine and surgery in , where he served with distinction for twelve years. his scholarly valedictory at that institution is one of the papers reserved for publication in his memoirs. while in the college he continued his investigations in science, applying his knowledge of terrestrial chemistry to the chemistry of the heavens, as shown in nearly all his writings. besides the position held in the college, he gave lessons in schools and seminaries in geology, astronomy, chemistry, latin and greek. in he visited lexington, where he met his old friend, dr. j. c. darby, and delivered lectures in public, at the sayre institute and the baptist school, returning to cincinnati the following spring. except from his writings, he seemed to have no source of revenue for several years. how he managed to exist his most intimate friends could only conjecture. true, he contributed papers to monthly publications, but they appeared at such long intervals they could not be relied on for support, so, in the autumn of his friends organized for him a course of lectures, which were well patronized by physicians and others versed in science. in the meantime, negotiations were opened with prominent citizens of suburban towns for other lectures, and efforts were made to retire the professor on an annuity. his end drawing near. enfeebled health, which confined him to his room for several weeks, prevented him from entering on the suburban course, so a second course was projected for the city and one of the lectures delivered. from what transpired after that lecture his friends were again anxious regarding his health, and, as the time approached for the delivery of the second, determined to see him. for reasons stated elsewhere it was with some difficulty he was found. prostrated on a couch, he was suffering from a hemorrhage of the lungs of a few days previous, with evidences all around of a state of extreme destitution. no time was lost in having him removed to comfortable quarters in the good samaritan hospital, where his friends arranged for his care as a private patient. next day, april , he expressed himself as greatly benefited by the change and talked cheerfully and hopefully of the future. next day, friday, he continued to improve, but on saturday proof of his forthcoming article in the popular science monthly reached him, and, feeling that he ought to return it promptly, he sat up to do the work. the effort was too great. overcome with exhaustion after its completion, he sank to sleep and a little after two o'clock next morning, april , his weary spirit peacefully took its flight. born in , the professor was then in the sixty-first year of his age. his obsequies. a committee of the more intimate friends of the deceased was formed, consisting of the late jacob traber, his nephew, j. c. sproull, drs. j. j. and william taft and the writer. funeral services were held in the chapel of the hospital, where, considering the suddenness of the professor's demise, many mourners were present. the interest evinced was profound, while the floral tributes that covered the casket were eloquent of affection and esteem. the remains were interred in a burial lot of jacob traber, who generously tendered its use until a separate place of interment and a monument could be procured. the remains of the two friends now lie side by side. his effects. after the funeral the committee referred to visited the room occupied by the professor prior to his decease, and had the writer, as his nearest friend, procure letters of administration, so that papers of value, if any, would be cared for. a few letters, some private relics, unsalable remnants of books and pamphlets and scraps of manuscript constituted the effects. the scarcity of manuscript was easily accounted, for, as it was the habit of the deceased for years to print articles designed for publication and have them mailed to magazines and to savants in different parts of europe and america. characteristics and habits of study. a prominent characteristic of prof. vaughn was shyness--a shrinking from familiarity or conspicuousness. he never was the first to salute a casual acquaintance on the street, and when introduced to a stranger would extend his hand with apparent diffidence or reserve--not with the warmth of a hearty shake, but rather with a cautious presentation of the finger tips. undemonstrative in manner, and inexperienced in the customs of social life, his diffidence was taken for coldness, yet he was kind and tender hearted almost to a fault, and a most grateful recipient of a favor. in his poverty he would part with money or personal property to people whom he considered more necessitous than himself. of the proceeds of his last course of lectures he gave to one such a sum so large as to almost discourage his friends from helping him. then, too, he was glad to render service to professional and public men. he made translations for writers and wrote lectures for others and made chemical analyses for the city when payment was not expected. as to his placing a commercial value upon his services he never learned to do it, though they often cost him both time and money that he could not well spare. his waking hours were always fully occupied in writing or study, either in his laboratory, the libraries or in open-air observations. he was thoroughly familiar with the geology of the neighborhood and the physical geography of the entire continent, as may be seen by his articles on "volcanoes," "the origin of lakes and mountains," "the absence of trees on prairies," "malaria," etc. his ingenuity in the construction of apparatus for his illustrations in chemistry was remarkable. given a few tubes of glass and rubber, a piece of tin, some acid and alkali, a blow-pipe, soldering iron and a pair of pinchers, he could construct at will enough apparatus for a lesson, a lecture or an analysis. considering his poverty, it may be questioned how he was able to maintain a laboratory. for twelve years he found a room at the medical college. at other times he extemporized quarters at his humble lodgings, where the same apartment was to him laboratory, study and living room. such a room he could not find in a private house, so he sought it elsewhere, as in the tenement in which he was found in his last illness. that life necessarily isolated him from society, its pleasures and advantages before he became familiar with the laws by which it was governed. having acquired a mastery of greek and latin in his youth, he had a good preparation for the acquisition of the modern languages; besides, to prosecute his studies and investigations, he found it necessary to understand most of the languages of europe. exception has been taken to the professor's manner as a lecturer. when we consider his natural diffidence in the presence of strangers we are surprised that he attempted to lecture at all. take his case when he last lectured,--his lecture hall, the operating room of the dental college, and his platform that of the operator with his audience around but elevated a few feet above him. the position was an exceedingly trying one, and some time elapsed before he was able to make a good start. while hesitating, on such occasions, his eyes would wander around the audience till they rested on those of a familiar friend. immediately he addressed himself to that person, and confidence was restored. like other public speakers we know of, he continued to address himself chiefly to the one selected, however embarrassing it might be to that individual. his religious life. the professor was a bible student, if we judge from fragments found among his effects and a well-worn bible, now a relic in possession of a former student. the book is a curiosity, worn as is the cover with marks of his fingers as he held it, often with a candle in his hand, as shown by occasional drippings on the page and cover. he was not a member of any church. at least, had not been up to a month before his decease, though he visited churches of all denominations and was familiar with their doctrines and polity. his religion consisted in his living up to his highest ideas of right and truth; hence he was charitable almost to a fault. when he had not money to give, he parted with his books. an eloquent public speaker, referring to his private life, has said: "he was social, kind and humane. he took pleasure in instructing the children and communing with friends--good men and women, who loved and admired him--and his humanity was gratified in bestowing what he valued most--knowledge. to him nothing seemed more precious than truth, and to shed the light of it abroad. his heart was in his work, and without a glance to the right or left, he pursued his arduous quest." of the works of creation which occupied so much of his thoughts, the professor's views may be had by reading the following concluding remarks found in his "physical astronomy:" "whatever doubts may hang over all speculations respecting distant events, either of past or future time, we have reason to believe that our universe will ever exhibit great and useful operations throughout its extensive domains. from the ruins of some celestial bodies others will rise to act a part in the drama of the physical creation in future ages. though nature's work may all decay, her laws remain the same, and numerous agencies, obedient to their control and aided by occasional interventions of creative power, must maintain the heavens forever in a harmonious condition and transform innumerable spheres into seats of light and intelligence. while the laws of nature have been thus widely ordained for such great ends, their simplicity renders them intelligible to the limited powers of the human mind, and the immense universe thus becomes a vast field of intellectual enjoyment for man." testimony of the late dr. john hancock. the late dr. hancock, in writing to mrs. j. w. mclaughlin, stated that he attended institute lectures of prof. vaughn, making his acquaintance at a meeting of the southwestern ohio normal institute. the professor was engaged to lecture on his favorite specialties, physical geography and astronomy. "it is my recollection," says the doctor, "that prof. vaughn was a graduate of trinity collage, dublin. however that may be, there can be no doubt as to his wide and profound scholarship. he was not only deeply versed in the physical sciences, but was equally proficient in the classics and mathematics. it is said by competent judges that he read greek and latin as he would english, as though he thought in those languages, and he was one of the few americans who read through laplace's 'mechanique celeste.' he had a prodigious memory. at the oxford institute, to which i have referred, some dozen of the leading members, prof. vaughn among them, got up some literary games requiring wide reading and retentive memories for successful rivalry. in these games the professor showed a wealth of reading and an ability to use it on the instant that i have never seen approached by any other scholar. it is needless to say that he was first in the game and the rest nowhere. "some ten years afterward, when connected with nelson's commercial college, i edited a little educational paper, the news and educator, of which mr. nelson was proprietor. in this relation i came much more frequently in contact with prof. vaughn than i ever did before. to this paper he contributed a number of articles on scientific subjects, but, being printed in an obscure local paper, they attracted little attention." reminiscences of mrs. stamps. mrs. eliza stamps, widow of the late colonel stamps, in giving her experience with the professor, said: "he was a very industrious student, in his profound researches pursuing them to the exclusion of every thing else. he would frequently forget the demands of hunger and disregard the summons to his meals. as to his engaging in innocent amusements, he considered it a sacrifice of valuable time; yet, lest he should be accused of selfishness or wanting in social etiquette, he sometimes left his books to unite with the children in their games, and, diffident though he was, would occasionally take part in the dance. "he enjoyed the colonel's library, but soon exhausted its resources and those of the neighbors; so, to obtain a supply, he would go on foot to cincinnati, one hundred miles distant, and return in the same manner, loaded with new books." throughout his after life he gave evidence of his great respect and affection for colonel stamps, his benefactor, and his family, and the young ladies and gentlemen who had been his pupils, who never ceased to venerate him for his learning, or to love and cherish his memory. some such were among the mourners at his funeral. reputation in england. the late jacob traber, one of the most intimate friends of the professor, has written: "in the year i was in the office of john sayre, bookseller, high holborn, where i made the purchase of books that were yet in the hands of the printer. i gave my address and directions for shipping. when in the act of leaving the office i was accosted by an elderly gentleman who, with the apology, 'beg pardon, i overheard you when you gave your address, cincinnati, and desire to make inquiry about one of your distinguished citizens, daniel vaughn. assuming that you know him, may i ask how long it is since you have seen him?' i replied that i had known the professor some four years, and had met him but a few months ago. at that time i regarded the professor as a mechanical genius of the speculative type, and so expressed myself. a quick rejoinder came in that broad and forcible accent of an englishman: 'if you cincinnati people vote vaughn as a speculative mechanic, the ripest and profoundest mathematical scholar in england may be marked as his apprentice. you have a treasure in that man. why, sir, we send him problems that fail to be mastered here, and speedily have them back not only with a solution, but with the demonstration.' the speaker proved to be one of the ablest scholars and scientists in europe." fixing the responsibility for his condition. the subject of this paper, it will be inferred, did not inherit a patrimony, yet he contributed his valuable services to many worthy objects without pecuniary compensation. as has been stated, his great pleasure, next to the investigation of truth, was to impart useful knowledge and help the needy. when in the medical college he was paid with shares of stock on which a dividend was never declared, and when engaged in lecturing and teaching his diffidence prevented him from placing a sufficient value on his services. living the life of a recluse, he concealed his poverty from his nearest friends, who were ignorant even of his address. then, he never sought a gratuity, and his friends could only learn by conjecture when he was in need. when asked if his privations did not cause him much anxiety, he said they gave him no concern. on more than one occasion the writer, at the request of men of wealth and influence, proposed to retire him on an annuity, but he modestly but firmly declined to accept, and it was not until after the announcement of his last course that he consented. then the proposition was to pay his expenses at a hotel of his choice and advance him money for his personal expenses, for which he was to lecture when and where he might choose. the gentlemen most active in this project were the following, now deceased: henry peachy, william f. corry, jacob traber, colonel geoffrey and others. favorably known to the public were drs. j. j. and william taft, dr. thad reamy, j. c. sproull, etc. the project had so far matured that the writer and another had arranged with mr. peachy to make the lafayette national bank the custodian of the funds. had the professor survived, he would have enjoyed a life of leisure and comfort, at one of the most prominent hotels in the city. the people of cincinnati were, therefore, not responsible for the poverty of our friend, nor for the state of destitution in which he was found prior to his removal to the hospital. account of the death of prof. vaughn, by rev. eugene brady, s.j. [concerning the last days of professor vaughn, the following from the pen of father brady, pastor of st. xavier's church, is of special interest. this is peculiarly appropriate by reason of the fact that father brady, while a boy, attended the college during the time professor vaughn taught in bardstown, kentucky, and finally comforted him in his last moments.--j. u. l.] "my dear mr. lloyd:-- "concerning the foot-note on page of etidorhpa. the description of daniel vaughn is correct. the story of his privations is quite true. he was so absorbed in science as to be self-neglectful. moreover, he was grossly neglected by those _who made use of his labors_. "a servant girl told the venerable sister anthony that a poor lodger was dying in destitution in the west end of the city. the lodger was professor vaughn. the sister had the good man conveyed to the good samaritan hospital on april , . she made him comfortable, as he repeatedly declared. he died on april , . _thoroughly conscious_ up to the last moment, _it was at his request_ that the undersigned had the melancholy pleasure of administering to him the last rites of the catholic church. it was neither delirium nor senility that revived his faith. he was but sixty-one years of age, and as rational as ever in life." --eugene brady, s.j. etidorhpa. to the recipients of the author's edition of etidorhpa: that so large an edition as , copies of an expensive book, previously unseen by any subscriber, should have been taken in advance by reason of a mere announcement, is complimentary to the undersigned; and yet this very confidence occasioned him not a little anxiety. under such circumstances to have failed to give, either in workmanship or subject-matter, more than was promised in the announcement of etidorhpa, would have been painfully embarrassing. not without deep concern, then, were the returns awaited; for, while neither pains nor expense were spared to make the book artistically a prize, still, beautiful workmanship and attractive illustrations may serve but to make more conspicuous other failings. humiliating indeed would it have been had the recipients, in a spirit of charity, spoken only of artistic merit and neat bookwork. when one not a bookman publishes a book, he treads the danger-line. when such a person, without a great publishing-house behind him, issues a book like etidorhpa--a book that, spanning space, seemingly embraces wild imaginings and speculation, and intrudes on science and religion--he invites personal disaster. that in the case of the author's edition of etidorhpa the reverse happily followed, is evidenced by hundreds of complimentary letters, written by men versed in this or that section wherein the book intrudes; and in a general way the undersigned herein gratefully extends his thanks to all correspondents--thanks for the cordial expressions of approval, and for the graceful oversights by critics and correspondents, that none better than he realizes have been extended towards blemishes that must, to others, be not less apparent than they are to himself. since general interest has been awakened in the strange book etidorhpa, and as many readers are soliciting information concerning its reception, it is not only as a duty, but as a pleasure, that the undersigned reproduces the following abstracts from public print concerning the author's edition, adding, that as in most cases the reviews were of great length and made by men specially selected for the purpose, the brief notes are but fragments and simply characteristic of their general tenor. the personal references indulged by the critics could not be excised without destroying the value of the criticisms, and the undersigned can offer no other apology for their introduction than to say that to have excluded them would have done an injustice to the writers. respectfully, john uri lloyd. etidorhpa as a work of art. professor s. w. williams, wyoming, ohio. if a fine statue or a stately cathedral is a poem in marble, a masterpiece of the printer's art may be called a poem in typography. such is etidorhpa. in its paper, composition, presswork, illustrations, and binding--it is the perfection of beauty. while there is nothing gaudy in its outward appearance, there is throughout a display of good taste. the simplicity of its neatness, like that of a handsome woman, is its great charm. elegance does not consist in show nor wealth in glitter; so the richest as well as the costliest garb may be rich in its very plainness. the illustrations were drawn and engraved expressly for this work, and consist of twenty-one full-page, half-tone cuts, and over thirty half-page and text cuts, besides two photogravures. the best artistic skill was employed to produce them, and the printing was carefully attended to, so as to secure the finest effect. only enameled book paper is used; and this, with the wide margins, gilt top, trimmed edges, and clear impressions of the type, makes the pages restful to the eyes in reading or looking at them. the jacket, or cover, which protects the binding, is of heavy paper, and bears the same imprint as the book itself. altogether, as an elegant specimen of the bookmakers' art it is a credit to the trade. all honor to the compositors who set the type, the artists who drew and engraved the illustrations, the electrotyper who put the forms into plate, the pressman who worked off the sheets, and the binder who gathered and bound them in this volume. reviews of etidorhpa. [sidenote: b. o. flower, editor of the arena, boston.] the present is an age of expectancy, of anticipation, and of prophecy; and the invention or discovery or production that occupies the attention of the busy world, as it rushes on its self-observed way, for more than the passing nine day's wonder, must needs be something great indeed. such a production has now appeared in the literary world in the form of the volume entitled "etidorhpa, or the end of earth;" the very title of which is so striking as to arrest the attention at once. a most remarkable book.... surpasses, in my judgment, any thing that has been written by the elder dumas or jules verne, while in moral purpose it is equal to hugo at his best.... it appeals to the thoughtful scientist no less than to the lover of fascinating romance. [sidenote: mr. herbert bates, in the commercial gazette, cincinnati.] in summing, i would say that i have found the book distinctly stimulating. it is odd, but with the oddity of force. it has passages of uncanny imagination, but they excellently evade the enormous and extravagant. it is a book that by its title and by such features as strike one at a hurried glance might easily repel. yet it is a book that, studied carefully, calls for re-reading and deep meditation. its theories are capable of scientific demonstration, its imaginings, while they may not be fact, are always consistent with it. the reader who lets the outside repel him errs sadly. let him read it, and he will be as changed in his position toward it, as ready to convert others, as is the reviewer, who picked it up with foreboding and laid it down with the sense of having read great thoughts. [sidenote: dr. w. h. venable.] "the end of earth" is not like any other book. the charm of adventure, the excitement of romance, the stimulating heat of controversy, the keen pursuit of scientific truth, the glow of moral enthusiasm, are all found in its pages. the book may be described as a sort of philosophical fiction, containing much exact scientific truth, many bold theories, and much ingenious speculation on the nature and destiny of man.... the occult and esoteric character of the discussions adds a strange fascination to them. we can hardly classify, by ordinary rules, a work so unusual in form and purpose, so discursive in subject-matter, so unconventional in its appeals to reason, religion and morality.... the direct teaching of the book, in so far as it aims to influence conduct, is always lofty and pure. [sidenote: letter from sir henry irving, to the author.] "_my dear sir:_ let me thank you most heartily for sending me the special copy of your wonderful book 'etidorhpa,' which i shall ever value. i may say that when by chance i found it in cincinnati i read it with the greatest interest and pleasure, and was so struck by it that i have sent copies to several friends of mine here and at home. i hope i may have the pleasure of meeting you some day either here or in london. i remain, sincerely yours, henry irving. " th march, ." [sidenote: etidorhpa as a work of art. prof. s. w. williams.] if a fine statute or a stately cathedral is a poem in marble, a masterpiece of the printer's art may be called a poem in typography. such is "etidorhpa." in its paper, composition, presswork, illustrations, and binding--it is the perfection of beauty. while there is nothing gaudy in its outward appearance, there is throughout a display of good taste. the illustrations were drawn and engraved expressly for this work, and consist of twenty-one full-page, half-tone cuts, and over thirty half-page and text cuts, besides two photogravures. the best artistic skill was employed to produce them, and the printing was carefully attended to, so as to secure the finest effect. [sidenote: eclectic medical journal, cincinnati.] no one could have written the chapter on the "food of man" but professor lloyd; no one else knows and thinks of these subjects in a similar way.... the "old man's" description of "the spirit of stone," "the spirit of plants," and finally, "the spirit of man," is very fine, but those who hear professor lloyd lecture catch lloyd's impulses throughout. the only regret one has in reading this entrancing work is, that it ends unexpectedly, for the end of earth comes without a catastrophe. it should have been a hundred pages longer; the reader yearns for more, and closes the book wistfully. [sidenote: new idea, detroit.] one of the great charms of the book is the space between the lines, which only the initiated can thoroughly comprehend. don't fail to read and re-read etidorhpa. be sure and read it in the light of contemporaneous literature, for without doing so, its true beauty will not appear. aside from its subject-matter, the excellency of the workmanship displayed by the printer, and artistic beauty of the illustrations, will make etidorhpa an ornament to any library. [sidenote: cincinnati student.] this book, to use the words of the editor of the chicago inter-ocean, is "the literary novelty of the year."... in a literary sense, according to all reviewers, it abounds with "word-paintings of the highest order"--in some chapters being "terrible" in its vividness, several critics asserting that dante's inferno has nothing more realistic.... [sidenote: the british and colonial druggist, london, england.] we have read it with absorbed interest, the vividly-depicted scenes of each stage in the miraculous journey forming a theme which enthralls the reader till the last page is turned. many new views of natural laws are given by the communicator, and argued between him and drury, into which, and into the ultimate intent of etidorhpa, we will not attempt to enter, but will leave it for each reader to peruse, and draw his own conclusions.... professor lloyd's style is quaint and polished, and perfectly clear. the printing and paper are all that can be desired, and an abundance of artistic and striking illustrations are admirably reproduced. [sidenote: new york world.] etidorhpa, the end of the earth, is in all respects the worthiest presentation of occult teachings under the attractive guise of fiction that has yet been written. its author, mr. john uri lloyd, of cincinnati, as a scientist and writer on pharmaceutical topics, has already a more than national reputation, but only his most intimate friends have been aware that he was an advanced student of occultism. his book is charmingly written, some of its passages being really eloquent; as, for instance, the apostrophe to aphrodite--whose name is reversed to make the title of the story. it has as thrilling situations and startling phenomena as imagination has ever conceived.... there is no confusion between experiences and illusions, such as are common in the works of less instructed and conscientious writers treating of such matters. he knows where to draw the line and how to impress perception of it, as in the four awful nightmare chapters illustrating the curse of drink. etidorhpa will be best appreciated by those who have "traveled east in search of light and knowledge."... [sidenote: john clark ridpath, ll.d.] we are disposed to think "etidorhpa" the most unique, original, and suggestive new book that we have seen in this the last decade of a not unfruitful century. [sidenote: times-star, cincinnati.] it is as fascinating as the richest romance by dumas, and mysterious and awe-inspiring as the wild flights of verne. hugo wrote nothing more impassioned than those terrible chapters where "the-man-who-did-it" drinks liquor from the mushroom cup. there never was a book like it. it falls partly in many classes, yet lies outside of all. it will interest all sorts and conditions of men and it has that in it which may make it popular as the most sensational novel of the day. intricate plotting, marvelous mysteries, clear-cut science without empiricism, speculative reasoning, sermonizing, historical facts, and bold theorizing make up the tissue of the story, while the spirit of etidorhpa, the spirit of love, pervades it all.... happy is the scientist who can present science in a form so inviting as to charm not only the scholars of his own profession, but the laymen besides. this, professor john uri lloyd has done in his etidorhpa. [sidenote: the inter-ocean, chicago.] for eighteen years the writer has been seated at his desk, and all kinds of books have been passed in review, but has never before met with such a stumper as etidorhpa. its name is a stunner, and its title-page, head-lines, and weird, artistic pictures send you such a ghastly welcome as to make goblins on the walls, and fill the close room with spooks and mystery. the writer has only known of professor lloyd as a scientist and an expert in the most occult art of the pharmacist, and can scarcely conceive him in the role of the mystic and romancer in the region heretofore sacred to the tread of the supernatural.... the book is the literary novelty of the year, but those interested in such lines of thought will forget its novelties in a profound interest in the themes discussed. [sidenote: the chicago medical times.] the work stands so entirely alone in literature, and possesses such a marvelous versatility of thought and idea, that, in describing it, we are at a loss for comparison. in its scope it comprises alchemy, chemistry, science in general, philosophy, metaphysics, morals, biology, sociology, theosophy, materialism, and theism--the natural and supernatural.... it is almost impossible to describe the character of the work. it is realistic in expression, and weird beyond hawthorne's utmost flights. it excels bulwer-lytton's coming race and jules verne's most extreme fancy. it equals dante in vividness and eccentricity of plot.... the entire tone of the work is elevating. it encourages thought of all that is ennobling and pure. it teaches a belief and a faith in god and holy things, and shows god's supervision over all his works. it is an allegory of the life of one who desires to separate himself from the debasing influences of earth, and aspires to a pure and noble existence, as beautiful and as true to the existing conditions of human life as bunyan's pilgrim's progress. the sorrow; the struggle with self; the physical burdens; the indescribable temptations with the presence and assistance of those who would assist in overcoming them; the dark hours, vanity fair, and the beulahland, are all there. [sidenote: indianapolis journal.] in every respect the volume bearing the title etidorhpa, or the end of the earth, is a most remarkable book. typographically, it is both unique and artistic--as near perfection in conception and execution as can be conceived.... the author is john uri lloyd, of cincinnati, a scientific writer whose pharmaceutical treatises are widely known and highly valued. that a man whose mind and time have been engrossed with the affairs of a specialist and man of affairs could have found time to enter the field of speculation, and there display not only the most extensive knowledge of the exact natural sciences, and refute what is held to be scientific truth with bold theories and ingenious speculations on the nature and destiny of man is marvelous.... the addenda is as original as the book itself, consisting, as it does, of a list of names, some of whom are not subscribers, but to whom the author is deeply obliged, or whom he regards as very dear friends, and those of a few whom he personally admires.... if each of them has a copy of etidorhpa, or the end of the earth, he possesses a book which is not like any other book in the world. [sidenote: cleveland leader.] it relates to a journey made by the old man under the guidance of a peculiar being into the interior of the earth. the incidents of this journey overshadow any thing that verne ever wrote in his palmiest days. but perhaps the most singular part of it is that they are all based on scientific grounds. dr. lloyd, the author of the volume, is one of the deepest students, and is well known as a profound writer on subjects pertaining to his profession, as well as one who has taken much pains in studying the occult sciences.... the book is a very pleasant one to read, a little redundant at times, but full of information.... readers who succeed in securing it will be very lucky indeed. transcriber notes: punctuation corrected without note. page : no illustration is found in the original book for this reference. page : "siezed" changed to "seized" (the guide seized me by the hand). page : "begun" changed to "began" (began a narcotic hallucination). page : "comformably" changed to "conformably" (that lies conformably with the external crust). page : "wierd" changed to "weird" (and weird, artistic pictures). elizabethan demonology an essay in illustration of the belief in the existence of devils, and the powers possessed by them, as it was generally held during the period of the reformation, and the times immediately succeeding; with special reference to shakspere and his works by thomas alfred spalding, ll.b. (lond.) barrister-at-law, honorary treasurer of the new shakspere society london to robert browning, president of the new shakspere society, this volume is dedicated. forewords. this essay is an expansion, in accordance with a preconceived scheme, of two papers, one on "the witches in macbeth," and the other on "the demonology of shakspere," which were read before the new shakspere society in the years and . the shakspere references in the text are made to the globe edition. the writer's best thanks are due to his friends mr. f.j. furnivall and mr. lauriston e. shaw, for their kindness in reading the proof sheets, and suggesting emendations. temple, october , . "we are too hasty when we set down our ancestors in the gross for fools for the monstrous inconsistencies (as they seem to us) involved in their creed of witchcraft."--c. lamb. "but i will say, of shakspere's works generally, that we have no full impress of him there, even as full as we have of many men. his works are so many windows, through which we see a glimpse of the world that was in him."--t. carlyle. analysis. i. . difficulty in understanding our elder writers without a knowledge of their language and ideas. . especially in the case of dramatic poets. . examples. hamlet's "assume a virtue." . changes in ideas and law relating to marriage. massinger's "maid of honour" as an example. . _sponsalia de futuro_ and _sponsalia de praesenti_. shakspere's marriage. . student's duty is to get to know the opinions and feelings of the folk amongst whom his author lived. . it will be hard work, but a gain in the end. first, in preventing conceit. . secondly, in preventing rambling reading. . author's present object to illustrate the dead belief in demonology, especially as far as it concerns shakspere. he thinks that this may perhaps bring us into closer contact with shakspere's soul. . some one objects that shakspere can speak better for himself. yes, but we must be sure that we understand the media through which he speaks. . division of subject. ii. . reasons why the empire of the supernatural is so extended amongst savages. . all important affairs of life transacted under superintendence of supreme powers. . what are these powers? three principles regarding them. . (i.) incapacity of mankind to accept monotheism. the jews. . roman catholicism really polytheistic, although believers won't admit it. virgin mary. saints. angels. protestantism in the same condition in a less degree. . francis of assisi. gradually made into a god. . (ii.) manichaeism. evil spirits as inevitable as good. . (iii.) tendency to treat the gods of hostile religions as devils. . in the greek theology. [greek: daimones]. platonism. . neo-platonism. makes the elder gods into daemons. . judaism. recognizes foreign gods at first. _elohim_, but they get degraded in time. beelzebub, belial, etc. . early christians treat gods of greece in the same way. st. paul's view. . the church, however, did not stick to its colours in this respect. honesty not the best policy. a policy of compromise. . the oracles. sosthenion and st. michael. delphi. st. gregory's saintliness and magnanimity. confusion of pagan gods and christian saints. . church in north europe. thonar, etc., are devils, but balda gets identified with christ. . conversion of britons. their gods get turned into fairies rather than devils. deuce. old nick. . subsequent evolution of belief. carlyle's abbot sampson. religious formulae of witchcraft. . the reformers and catholics revive the old accusations. the reformers only go half-way in scepticism. calfhill and martiall. . catholics. siege of alkmaar. unfortunate mistake of a spanish prisoner. . conditions that tended to vivify the belief during elizabethan era. . the new freedom. want of rules of evidence. arthur hacket and his madnesses. sneezing. cock-crowing. jackdaw in the house of commons. russell and drake both mistaken for devils. . credulousness of people. "to make one danse naked." a parson's proof of transubstantiation. . but the elizabethans had strong common sense nevertheless. people do wrong if they set them down as fools. if we had not learned to be wiser than they, we should have to be ashamed of ourselves. we shall learn nothing from them if we don't try to understand them. iii. . the three heads. . (i.) classification of devils. greater and lesser devils. good and bad angels. . another classification, not popular. . names of greater devils. horribly uncouth. the number of them. shakspere's devils. . (ii.) form of devils of the greater. . of the lesser. the horns, goggle eyes, and tail. scot's carnal-mindedness. he gets his book burnt, and written against by james i. . spenser's idol-devil. . dramatists' satire of popular opinion. . favourite form for appearing in when conjured. devils in macbeth. . powers of devils. . catholic belief in devil's power to create bodies. . reformers deny this, but admit that he deceives people into believing that he can do so, either by getting hold of a dead body, and restoring animation. . or by means of illusion. . the common people stuck to the catholic doctrine. devils appear in likeness of an ordinary human being. . even a living one, which was sometimes awkward. "the troublesome raigne of king john." they like to appear as priests or parsons. the devil quoting scripture. . other human shapes. . animals. ariel. . puck. . "the witch of edmonton." the devil on the stage. flies. urban grandier. sir m. hale. . devils as angels. as christ. . as dead friend. reformers denied the possibility of ghosts, and said the appearances so called were devils. james i. and his opinion. . the common people believed in the ghosts. bishop pilkington's troubles. . the two theories. illustrated in "julius caesar," "macbeth." . and "hamlet." . this explains an apparent inconsistency in "hamlet." . possession and obsession. again the catholics and protestants differ. . but the common people believe in possession. . ignorance on the subject of mental disease. the exorcists. . john cotta on possession. what the "learned physicion" knew. . what was manifest to the vulgar view. will sommers. "the devil is an ass." . harsnet's "declaration," and "king lear." . the babington conspiracy. . weston, alias edmonds. his exorcisms. mainy. the basis of harsnet's statements. . the devils in "lear." . edgar and mainy. mainy's loose morals. . the devils tempt with knives and halters. . mainy's seven devils: pride, covetousness, luxury, envy, wrath, gluttony, sloth. the nightingale business. . treatment of the possessed: confinement, flagellation. . dr pinch. nicknames. . other methods. that of "elias and pawle". the holy chair, sack and oil, brimstone. . firing out. . bodily diseases the work of the devil. bishop hooper on hygiene. . but devils couldn't kill people unless they renounced god. . witchcraft. . people now-a-days can't sympathize with the witch persecutors, because they don't believe in the devil. satan is a mere theory now. . but they believed in him once, and therefore killed people that were suspected of having to do with him. . and we don't sympathize with the persecuted witches, although we make a great fuss about the sufferings of the reformers. . the witches in macbeth. some take them to be norns. . gervinus. his opinion. . mr. f.g. fleay. his opinion. . evidence. simon forman's note. . holinshed's account. . criticism. . it is said that the appearance and powers of the sisters are not those of witches. . it is going to be shown that they are. . a third piece of criticism. . objections. . contemporary descriptions of witches. scot, harsnet. witches' beards. . have norns chappy fingers, skinny lips, and beards? . powers of witches "looking into the seeds of time." bessie roy, how she looked into them. . meaning of first scene of "macbeth." . witches power to vanish. ointments for the purpose. scot's instance of their efficacy. . "weird sisters." . other evidence. . why shakspere chose witches. command over elements. . peculiar to scotch trials of - . . earlier case of bessie dunlop--a poor, starved, half daft creature. "thom reid," and how he tempted her. her canny scotch prudence. poor bessie gets burnt for all that. . reason for peculiarity of trials of . james ii. comes from denmark to scotland. the witches raise a storm at the instigation of the devil. how the trials were conducted. . john fian. raising a mist. toad-omen. ship sinking. . sieve-sailing. excitement south of the border. the "daemonologie." statute of james against witchcraft. . the origin of the incubus and succubus. . mooncalves. . division of opinion amongst reformers regarding devils. giordano bruno. bullinger's opinion about sadducees and epicures. . emancipation a gradual process. exorcism in edward vi.'s prayer-book. . the author hopes he has been reverent in his treatment of the subject. any sincere belief entitled to respect. our pet beliefs may some day appear as dead and ridiculous as these. iv. . fairies and devils differ in degree, not in origin. . evidence. . cause of difference. folk, until disturbed by religious doubt, don't believe in devils, but fairies. . reformation shook people up, and made them think of hell and devils. . the change came in the towns before the country. fairies held on a long time in the country. . shakspere was early impressed with fairy lore. in middle life, came in contact with town thought and devils, and at the end of it returned to stratford and fairydom. . this is reflected in his works. . but there is progression of thought to be observed in these stages. . shakspere indirectly tells us his thoughts, if we will take the trouble to learn them. . three stages of thought that men go through on religious matters. hereditary belief. scepticism. reasoned belief. . shakspere went through all this. . illustrations. hereditary belief. "a midsummer night's dream." fairies chiefly an adaptation of current tradition. . the dawn of doubt. . scepticism. evil spirits dominant. no guiding good. . corresponding lapse of faith in other matters. woman's purity. . man's honour. . mr. ruskin's view of shakspere's message. . founded chiefly on plays of sceptical period. message of third period entirely different. . reasoned belief. "the tempest." . man can master evil of all forms if he go about it in the right way--is not the toy of fate. . prospero a type of shakspere in this final stage of thought. how pleasant to think this! elizabethan demonology. . it is impossible to understand and appreciate thoroughly the production of any great literary genius who lived and wrote in times far removed from our own, without a certain amount of familiarity, not only with the precise shades of meaning possessed by the vocabulary he made use of, as distinguished from the sense conveyed by the same words in the present day, but also with the customs and ideas, political, religious and moral, that predominated during the period in which his works were produced. without such information, it will be found impossible, in many matters of the first importance, to grasp the writer's true intent, and much will appear vague and lifeless that was full of point and vigour when it was first conceived; or, worse still, modern opinion upon the subject will be set up as the standard of interpretation, ideas will be forced into the writer's sentences that could not by any manner of possibility have had place in his mind, and utterly false conclusions as to his meaning will be the result. even the man who has had some experience in the study of an early literature, occasionally finds some difficulty in preventing the current opinions of his day from obtruding themselves upon his work and warping his judgment; to the general reader this must indeed be a frequent and serious stumbling-block. . this is a special source of danger in the study of the works of dramatic poets, whose very art lies in the representation of the current opinions, habits, and foibles of their times--in holding up the mirror to their age. it is true that, if their works are to live, they must deal with subjects of more than mere passing interest; but it is also true that many, and the greatest of them, speak upon questions of eternal interest in the particular light cast upon them in their times, and it is quite possible that the truth may be entirely lost from want of power to recognize it under the disguise in which it comes. a certain motive, for instance, that is an overpowering one in a given period, subsequently appears grotesque, weak, or even powerless; the consequent action becomes incomprehensible, and the actor is contemned; and a simile that appeared most appropriate in the ears of the author's contemporaries, seems meaningless, or ridiculous, to later generations. . an example or two of this possibility of error, derived from works produced during the period with which it is the object of these pages to deal, will not be out of place here. a very striking illustration of the manner in which a word may mislead is afforded by the oft-quoted line: "assume a virtue, if you have it not." by most readers the secondary, and, in the present day, almost universal, meaning of the word assume--"pretend that to be, which in reality has no existence;"--that is, in the particular case, "ape the chastity you do not in reality possess"--is understood in this sentence; and consequently hamlet, and through him, shakspere, stand committed to the appalling doctrine that hypocrisy in morals is to be commended and cultivated. now, such a proposition never for an instant entered shakspere's head. he used the word "assume" in this case in its primary and justest sense; _ad-sumo_, take to, acquire; and the context plainly shows that hamlet meant that his mother, by self-denial, would gradually acquire that virtue in which she was so conspicuously wanting. yet, for lack of a little knowledge of the history of the word employed, the other monstrous gloss has received almost universal and applauding acceptance. . this is a fair example of the style of error which a reader unacquainted with the history of the changes our language has undergone may fall into. ignorance of changes in customs and morals may cause equal or greater error. the difference between the older and more modern law, and popular opinion, relating to promises of marriage and their fulfilment, affords a striking illustration of the absurdities that attend upon the interpretation of the ideas of one generation by the practice of another. perhaps no greater nonsense has been talked upon any subject than this one, especially in relation to shakspere's own marriage, by critics who seem to have thought that a fervent expression of acute moral feeling would replace and render unnecessary patient investigation. in illustration of this difference, a play of massinger's, "the maid of honour," may be advantageously cited, as the catastrophe turns upon this question of marriage contracts. camiola, the heroine, having been precontracted by oath[ ] to bertoldo, the king's natural brother, and hearing of his subsequent engagement to the duchess of sienna, determines to quit the world and take the veil. but before doing so, and without informing any one, except her confessor, of her intention, she contrives a somewhat dramatic scene for the purpose of exposing her false lover. she comes into the presence of the king and all the court, produces her contract, claims bertoldo as her husband, and demands justice of the king, adjuring him that he shall not-- "swayed or by favour or affection, by a false gloss or wrested comment, alter the true intent and letter of the law." [footnote : act v. sc. i.] now, the only remedy that would occur to the mind of the reader of the present day under such circumstances, would be an action for breach of promise of marriage, and he would probably be aware of the very recent origin of that method of procedure. the only reply, therefore, that he would expect from roberto would be a mild and sympathetic assurance of inability to interfere; and he must be somewhat taken aback to find this claim of camiola admitted as indisputable. the riddle becomes somewhat further involved when, having established her contract, she immediately intimates that she has not the slightest intention of observing it herself, by declaring her desire to take the veil. . this can only be explained by the rules current at the time regarding spousals. the betrothal, or handfasting, was, in massinger's time, a ceremony that entailed very serious obligations upon the parties to it. there were two classes of spousals--_sponsalia de futuro_ and _sponsalia de praesenti_: a promise of marriage in the future, and an actual declaration of present marriage. this last form of betrothal was, in fact, marriage, as far as the contracting parties were concerned.[ ] it could not, even though not consummated, be dissolved by mutual consent; and a subsequent marriage, even though celebrated with religious rites, was utterly invalid, and could be set aside at the suit of the injured person. [footnote : swinburne, a treatise of spousals, , p. . in england the offspring were, nevertheless, illegitimate.] the results entailed by _sponsalia de futuro_ were less serious. although no spousals of the same nature could be entered into with a third person during the existence of the contract, yet it could be dissolved by mutual consent, and was dissolved by subsequent _sponsalia in praesenti_, or matrimony. but such spousals could be converted into valid matrimony by the cohabitation of the parties; and this, instead of being looked upon as reprehensible, seems to have been treated as a laudable action, and to be by all means encouraged.[ ] in addition to this, completion of a contract for marriage _de futuro_ confirmed by oath, if such a contract were not indeed indissoluble, as was thought by some, could at any rate be enforced against an unwilling party. but there were some reasons that justified the dissolution of _sponsalia_ of either description. affinity was one of these; and--what is to the purpose here, in england before the reformation, and in those parts of the continent unaffected by it--the entrance into a religious order was another. here, then, we have a full explanation of camiola's conduct. she is in possession of evidence of a contract of marriage between herself and bertoldo, which, whether _in praesenti_ or _in futuro_, being confirmed by oath, she can force upon him, and which will invalidate his proposed marriage with the duchess. having established her right, she takes the only step that can with certainty free both herself and bertoldo from the bond they had created, by retiring into a nunnery. [footnote : swinburne, p. .] this explanation renders the action of the play clear, and at the same time shows that shakspere in his conduct with regard to his marriage may have been behaving in the most honourable and praiseworthy manner; as the bond, with the date of which the date of the birth of his first child is compared, is for the purpose of exonerating the ecclesiastics from any liability for performing the ecclesiastical ceremony, which was not at all a necessary preliminary to a valid marriage, so far as the husband and wife were concerned, although it was essential to render issue of the marriage legitimate. . these are instances of the deceptions that are likely to arise from the two fertile sources that have been specified. there can be no doubt that the existence of errors arising from the former source--misapprehension of the meaning of words--is very generally admitted, and effectual remedies have been supplied by modern scholars for those who will make use of them. errors arising from the latter source are not so entirely recognized, or so securely guarded against. but what has just been said surely shows that it is of no use reading a writer of a past age with merely modern conceptions; and, therefore, that if such a man's works are worth study at all, they must be read with the help of the light thrown upon them by contemporary history, literature, laws, and morals. the student must endeavour to divest himself, as far as possible, of all ideas that are the result of a development subsequent to the time in which his author lived, and to place himself in harmony with the life and thoughts of the people of that age: sit down with them in their homes, and learn the sources of their loves, their hates, their fears, and see wherein domestic happiness, or lack of it, made them strong or weak; follow them to the market-place, and witness their dealings with their fellows--the honesty or baseness of them, and trace the cause; look into their very hearts, if it may be, as they kneel at the devotion they feel or simulate, and become acquainted with the springs of their dearest aspirations and most secret prayers. . a hard discipline, no doubt, but not more hard than salutary. salutary in two ways. first, as a test of the student's own earnestness of purpose. for in these days of revival of interest in our elder literature, it has become much the custom for flippant persons, who are covetous of being thought "well-read" by their less-enterprising companions, to skim over the surface of the pages of the wisest and noblest of our great teachers, either not understanding, or misunderstanding them. "i have read chaucer, shakspere, milton," is the sublimely satirical expression constantly heard from the mouths of those who, having read words set down by the men they name, have no more capacity for reading the hearts of the men themselves, through those words, than a blind man has for discerning the colour of flowers. as a consequence of this flippancy of reading, numberless writers, whose works have long been consigned to a well-merited oblivion, have of late years been disinterred and held up for public admiration, chiefly upon the ground that they are ancient and unknown. the man who reads for the sake of having done so, not for the sake of the knowledge gained by doing so, finds as much charm in these petty writers as in the greater, and hence their transient and undeserved popularity. it would be well, then, for every earnest student, before beginning the study of any one having pretensions to the position of a master, and who is not of our own generation, to ask himself, "am i prepared thoroughly to sift out and ascertain the true import of every allusion contained in this volume?" and if he cannot honestly answer "yes," let him shut the book, assured that he is not impelled to the study of it by a sincere thirst for knowledge, but by impertinent curiosity, or a shallow desire to obtain undeserved credit for learning. . the second way in which such a discipline will prove salutary is this: it will prevent the student from straying too far afield in his reading. the number of "classical" authors whose works will repay such severe study is extremely limited. however much enthusiasm he may throw into his studies, he will find that nine-tenths of our older literature yields too small a harvest of instruction to attract any but the pedant to expend so much labour upon them. the two great vices of modern reading will be avoided--flippancy on the one hand, and pedantry on the other. . the object, therefore, which i have had in view in the compilation of the following pages, is to attempt to throw some additional light upon a condition of thought, utterly different from any belief that has firm hold in the present generation, that was current and peculiarly prominent during the lifetime of the man who bears overwhelmingly the greatest name, either in our own or any other literature. it may be said, and perhaps with much force, that enough, and more than enough, has been written in the way of shakspere criticism. but is it not better that somewhat too much should be written upon such a subject than too little? we cannot expect that every one shall see all the greatness of shakspere's vast and complex mind--by one a truth will be grasped that has eluded the vigilance of others;--and it is better that those who can by no possibility grasp anything at all should have patient hearing, rather than that any additional light should be lost. the useless, lifeless criticism vanishes quietly away into chaos; the good remains quietly to be useful: and it is in reliance upon the justice and certainty of this law that i aim at bringing before the mind, as clearly as may be, a phase of belief that was continually and powerfully influencing shakspere during the whole of his life, but is now well-nigh forgotten or entirely misunderstood. if the endeavour is a useless and unprofitable one, let it be forgotten--i am content; but i hope to be able to show that an investigation of the subject does furnish us with a key which, in a manner, unlocks the secrets of shakspere's heart, and brings us closer to the real living man--to the very soul of him who, with hardly any history in the accepted sense of the word, has left us in his works a biography of far deeper and more precious meaning, if we will but understand it. . but it may be said that shakspere, of all men, is able to speak for himself without aid or comment. his works appeal to all, young and old, in every time, every nation. it is true; he can be understood. he is, to use again ben jonson's oft-quoted words, "not of an age, but for all time." yet he is so thoroughly imbued with the spirit and opinions of his era, that without a certain comprehension of the men of the elizabethan period he cannot be understood fully. indeed, his greatness is to a large extent due to his sympathy with the men around him, his power of clearly thinking out the answers to the all-time questions, and giving a voice to them that his contemporaries could understand;--answers that others could not for themselves formulate--could, perhaps, only vaguely and dimly feel after. to understand these answers fully, the language in which they were delivered must be first thoroughly mastered. . i intend, therefore, to attempt to sketch out the leading features of a phase of religious belief that acquired peculiar distinctness and prominence during shakspere's lifetime--more, perhaps, than it ever did before, or has done since--the belief in the existence of evil spirits, and their influence upon and dealings with mankind. the subject will be treated in three sections. the first will contain a short statement of the laws that seem to be of universal operation in the creation and maintenance of the belief in a multitudinous band of spirits, good and evil; and of a few of the conditions of the elizabethan epoch that may have had a formative and modifying influence upon that belief. the second will be devoted to an outline of the chief features of that belief, as it existed at the time in question--the organization, appearance, and various functions and powers of the evil spirits, with special reference to shakspere's plays. the third and concluding section, will embody an attempt to trace the growth of shakspere's thought upon religious matters through the medium of his allusions to this subject. * * * * * . the empire of the supernatural must obviously be most extended where civilization is the least advanced. an educated man has to make a conscious, and sometimes severe, effort to refrain from pronouncing a dogmatic opinion as to the cause of a given result when sufficient evidence to warrant a definite conclusion is wanting; to the savage, the notion of any necessity for, or advantage to be derived from, such self-restraint never once occurs. neither the lightning that strikes his hut, the blight that withers his crops, the disease that destroys the life of those he loves; nor, on the other hand, the beneficent sunshine or life-giving rain, is by him traceable to any known physical cause. they are the results of influences utterly beyond his understanding--supernatural,--matters upon which imagination is allowed free scope to run riot, and from which spring up a legion of myths, or attempts to represent in some manner these incomprehensible processes, grotesque or poetic, according to the character of the people with which they originate, which, if their growth be not disturbed by extraneous influences, eventually develop into the national creed. the most ordinary events of the savage's every-day life do not admit of a natural solution; his whole existence is bound in, from birth to death, by a network of miracles, and regulated, in its smallest details, by unseen powers of whom he knows little or nothing. . hence it is that, in primitive societies, the functions of legislator, judge, priest, and medicine man are all combined in one individual, the great medium of communication between man and the unknown, whose person is pre-eminently sacred. the laws that are to guide the community come in some mysterious manner through him from the higher powers. if two members of the clan are involved in a quarrel, he is appealed to to apply some test in order to ascertain which of the two is in the wrong--an ordeal that can have no judicial operation, except upon the assumption of the existence of omnipotent beings interested in the discovery of evil-doers, who will prevent the test from operating unjustly. maladies and famines are unmistakeable signs of the displeasure of the good, or spite of the bad spirits, and are to be averted by some propitiatory act on the part of the sufferers, or the mediation of the priest-doctor. the remedy that would put an end to a long-continued drought will be equally effective in arresting an epidemic. . but who, and of what nature, are these supernatural powers whose influences are thus brought to bear upon every-day life, and who appear to take such an interest in the affairs of mankind? it seems that there are three great principles at work in the evolution and modification of the ideas upon this subject, which must now be shortly stated. . (i.) the first of these is the apparent incapacity of the majority of mankind to accept a purely monotheistic creed. it is a demonstrable fact that the primitive religions now open to observation attribute specific events and results to distinct supernatural beings; and there can be little doubt that this is the initial step in every creed. it is a bold and somewhat perilous revolution to attempt to overturn this doctrine and to set up monotheism in its place, and, when successfully accomplished, is rarely permanent. the more educated portions of the community maintain allegiance to the new teaching, perhaps; but among the lower classes it soon becomes degraded to, or amalgamated with, some form of polytheism more or less pronounced, and either secret or declared. even the jews, the nation the most conspicuous for its supposed uncompromising adherence to a monotheistic creed, cannot claim absolute freedom from taint in this respect; for in the country places, far from the centre of worship, the people were constantly following after strange gods; and even some of their most notable worthies were liable to the same accusation. . it is not necessary, however, that the individuality and specialization of function of the supreme beings recognized by any religious system should be so conspicuous as they are in this case, or in the greek or roman pantheon, to mark it as in its essence polytheistic or of polytheistic tendency. it is quite enough that the immortals are deemed to be capable of hearing and answering the prayers of their adorers, and of interfering actively in passing events, either for good or for evil. this, at the root of it, constitutes the crucial difference between polytheism and monotheism; and in this sense the roman catholic form of christianity, representing the oldest undisturbed evolution of a strictly monotheistic doctrine, is undeniably polytheistic. apart from the virgin mary, there is a whole hierarchy of inferior deities, saints, and angels, subordinate to the one supreme being. this may possibly be denied by the authorized expounders of the doctrine of the church of rome; but it is nevertheless certain that it is the view taken by the uneducated classes, with whom the saints are much more present and definite deities than even the almighty himself. it is worth noting, that during the dancing mania of , not god, or christ, or the virgin mary, but st. vitus, was prayed to by the populace to stop the epidemic that was afterwards known by his name.[ ] there was a temple to st. michael on mount st. angelo, and augustine thought it necessary to declare that angel-worshippers were heretics.[ ] even protestantism, though a much younger growth than catholicism, shows a slight tendency towards polytheism. the saints are, of course, quite out of the question, and angels are as far as possible relegated from the citadel of asserted belief into the vaguer regions of poetical sentimentality; but--although again unadmitted by the orthodox of the sect--the popular conception of christ is, and, until the masses are more educated in theological niceties than they are at present, necessarily must be, as of a supreme being totally distinct from god the father. this applies in a less degree to the third person in the trinity; less, because his individuality is less clear. george eliot has, with her usual penetration, noted this fact in "silas marner," where, in mrs. winthrop's simple theological system, the trinity is always referred to as "them." [footnote : hecker, epidemics of the middle ages, p. .] [footnote : bullinger, p. . parker society.] . the posthumous history of francis of assisi affords a striking illustration of this strange tendency towards polytheism. this extraordinary man received no little reverence and adulation during his lifetime; but it was not until after his death that the process of deification commenced. it was then discovered that the stigmata were not the only points of resemblance between the departed saint and the divine master he professed to follow; that his birth had been foretold by the prophets; that, like christ, he underwent transfiguration; and that he had worked miracles during his life. the climax of the apotheosis was reached in , when a monk, preaching at paris, seriously maintained that st. francis was in very truth a second christ, the second son of god; and that after his death he descended into purgatory, and liberated all the spirits confined there who had the good fortune to be arrayed in the franciscan garb.[ ] [footnote : maury, histoire de la magie, p. .] . (ii.) the second principle is that of the manichaeists: the division of spirits into hostile camps, good and evil. this is a much more common belief than the orthodox are willing to allow. there is hardly any religious system that does not recognize a first source of evil, as well as a first source of good. but the spirit of evil occupies a position of varying importance: in some systems he maintains himself as co-equal of the spirit of good; in others he sinks to a lower stage, remaining very powerful to do harm, but nevertheless under the control, in matters of the highest importance, of the more beneficent being. in each of these cases, the first principle is found operating, ever augmenting the ranks; monodiabolism being as impossible as monotheism; and hence the importance of fully establishing that proposition. . (iii.) the last and most important of these principles is the tendency of all theological systems to absorb into themselves the deities extraneous to themselves, not as gods, but as inferior, or even evil, spirits. the actual existence of the foreign deity is not for a moment disputed, the presumption in favour of innumerable spiritual agencies being far too strong to allow the possibility of such a doubt; but just as the alien is looked upon as an inferior being, created chiefly for the use and benefit of the chosen people--and what nation is not, if its opinion of itself may be relied upon, a chosen people?--so the god the alien worships is a spirit of inferior power and capacity, and can be recognized solely as occupying a position subordinate to that of the gods of the land. this principle has such an important influence in the elaboration of the belief in demons, that it is worth while to illustrate the generality of its application. . in the greek system of theology we find in the first place a number of deities of varying importance and power, whose special functions are defined with some distinctness; and then, below these, an innumerable band of spirits, the souls of the departed--probably the relics of an earlier pure ancestor-worship--who still interest themselves in the inhabitants of this world. these [greek: daimones] were certainly accredited with supernatural power, and were not of necessity either good or evil in their influence or action. it was to this second class that foreign deities were assimilated. they found it impossible, however, to retain even this humble position. the ceremonies of their worship, and the language in which those ceremonies were performed, were strange to the inhabitants of the land in which the acclimatization was attempted; and the incomprehensible is first suspected, then loathed. it is not surprising, then, that the new-comers soon fell into the ranks of purely evil spirits, and that those who persisted in exercising their rites were stigmatized as devil-worshippers, or magicians. but in process of time this polytheistic system became pre-eminently unsatisfactory to the thoughtful men whom greece produced in such numbers. the tendency towards monotheism which is usually associated with the name of plato is hinted at in the writings of other philosophers who were his predecessors. the effect of this revolution was to recognize one supreme being, the first cause, and to subordinate to him all the other deities of the ancient and popular theology--to co-ordinate them, in fact, with the older class of daemons; the first step in the descent to the lowest category of all. . the history of the neo-platonic belief is one of elaboration upon these ideas. the conception of the supreme being was complicated in a manner closely resembling the idea of the christian trinity, and all the subordinate daemons were classified into good and evil geniuses. thus, a theoretically monotheistic system was established, with a tremendous hierarchy of inferior spirits, who frequently bore the names of the ancient gods and goddesses of egypt, greece, and rome, strikingly resembling that of roman catholicism. the subordinate daemons were not at first recognized as entitled to any religious rites; but in the course of time, by the inevitable operation of the first principle just enunciated, a form of theurgy sprang up with the object of attracting the kindly help and patronage of the good spirits, and was tolerated; and attempts were made to hold intercourse with the evil spirits, which were, as far as possible suppressed and discountenanced. . the history of the operation of this principle upon the jewish religion is very similar, and extremely interesting. although they do not seem to have ever had any system of ancestor-worship, as the greeks had, yet the jews appear originally to have recognized the deities of their neighbours as existing spirits, but inferior in power to the god of israel. "all the gods of the nations are idols" are words that entirely fail to convey the idea of the psalmist; for the word translated "idols" is _elohim_, the very term usually employed to designate jehovah; and the true sense of the passage therefore is: "all the gods of the nations are gods, but jehovah made the heavens."[ ] in another place we read that "the lord is a great god, and a great king above all gods."[ ] as, however, the jews gradually became acquainted with the barbarous rites with which their neighbours did honour to their gods, the foreigners seem to have fallen more and more in estimation, until they came to be classed as evil spirits. to this process such names as beelzebub, moloch, ashtaroth, and belial bear witness; beelzebub, "the prince of the devils" of later time, being one of the gods of the hostile philistines. [footnote : psalm xcvi. (xcv. sept.).] [footnote : psalm xcv. (xciv. sept.). maury, p. .] . the introduction of christianity made no difference in this respect. paul says to the believers at corinth, "that the things which the gentiles sacrifice, they sacrifice to devils ([greek: daimonia]), and not to god; and i would not that ye should have fellowship with devils;"[ ] and the septuagint renders the word _elohim_ in the ninety-fifth psalm by this [greek: daimonia], which as the christians had already a distinct term for good spirits, came to be applied to evil ones only. [footnote : i cor. x. .] under the influence therefore, of the new religion, the gods of greece and rome, who in the days of their supremacy had degraded so many foreign deities to the position of daemons, were in their turn deposed from their high estate, and became the nucleus around which the christian belief in demonology formed itself. the gods who under the old theologies reigned paramount in the lower regions became pre-eminently diabolic in character in the new system, and it was hecate who to the last retained her position of active patroness and encourager of witchcraft; a practice which became almost indissolubly connected with her name. numerous instances of the completeness with which this process of diabolization was effected, and the firmness with which it retained its hold upon the popular belief, even to late times, might be given; but the following must suffice. in one of the miracle plays, "the conversion of saul," a council of devils is held, at which mercury appears as the messenger of belial.[ ] [footnote : digby mysteries, new shakspere society, , p. .] . but this absolute rejection of every pagan belief and ceremony was characteristic of the christian church in its infancy only. so long as the band of believers was a small and persecuted one, no temptation to violate the rule could exist. but as the church grew, and acquired influence and position, it discovered that good policy demanded that the sternness and inflexibility of its youthful theories should undergo some modification. it found that it was not the most successful method of enticing stragglers into its fold to stigmatize the gods they ignorantly worshipped as devils, and to persecute them as magicians. the more impetuous and enthusiastic supporters did persecute, and persecute most relentlessly, the adherents of the dying faith; but persecution, whether of good or evil, always fails as a means of suppressing a hated doctrine, unless it can be carried to the extent of extermination of its supporters; and the more far-seeing leaders of the catholic church soon recognized that a slight surrender of principle was a far surer road to success than stubborn, uncompromising opposition. . it was in this spirit that the catholics dealt with the oracles of heathendom. mr. lecky is hardly correct when he says that nothing analogous to the ancient oracles was incorporated with christianity.[ ] there is the notable case of the god sosthenion, whom constantine identified with the archangel michael, and whose oracular functions were continued in a precisely similar manner by the latter.[ ] oracles that were not thus absorbed and supported were recognized as existent, but under diabolic control, and to be tolerated, if not patronized, by the representatives of the dominant religion. the oracle at delphi gave forth prophetic utterances for centuries after the commencement of the christian era; and was the less dangerous, as its operations could be stopped at any moment by holding a saintly relic to the god or devil apollo's nose. there is a fable that st. gregory, in the course of his travels, passed near the oracle, and his extraordinary sanctity was such as to prevent all subsequent utterances. this so disturbed the presiding genius of the place, that he appealed to the saint to undo the baneful effects his presence had produced; and gregory benevolently wrote a letter to the devil, which was in fact a license to continue the business of prophesying unmolested.[ ] this nonsensical fiction shows clearly enough that the oracles were not generally looked upon as extinguished by christianity. as the result of a similar policy we find the names and functions of the pagan gods and the earlier christian saints confused in the most extraordinary manner; the saints assuming the duties of the moribund deities where those duties were of a harmless or necessary character.[ ] [footnote : rise and influence of rationalism, i. p. .] [footnote : maury, p. , et seq.] [footnote : scot, book vii. ch. i.] [footnote : middleton's letter from rome.] . the church carried out exactly the same principles in her missionary efforts amongst the heathen hordes of northern europe. "do you renounce the devils, and all their words and works; thonar, wodin, and saxenote?" was part of the form of recantation administered to the scandinavian converts;[ ] and at the present day "odin take you" is the norse equivalent of "the devil take you." on the other hand, an attempt was made to identify balda "the beautiful" with christ--a confusion of character that may go far towards accounting for a custom joyously observed by our forefathers at christmastide but which the false modesty of modern society has nearly succeeded in banishing from amongst us, for balda was slain by loké with a branch of mistletoe, and christ was betrayed by judas with a kiss. [footnote : milman, history of latin christianity, iii. ; ix. .] . upon the conversion of the inhabitants of great britain to christianity, the native deities underwent the same inevitable fate, and sank into the rank of evil spirits. perhaps the juster opinion is that they became the progenitors of our fairy mythology rather than the subsequent devil-lore, although the similarity between these two classes of spirits is sufficient to warrant us in classing them as species of the same genus; their characters and functions being perfectly interchangeable, and even at times merging and becoming indistinguishable. a certain lurking affection in the new converts for the religion they had deserted, perhaps under compulsion, may have led them to look upon their ancient objects of veneration as less detestable in nature, and dangerous in act, than the devils imported as an integral portion of their adopted faith; and so originated this class of spirits less evil than the other. sir walter scott may be correct in his assertion that many of these fairy-myths owe their origin to the existence of a diminutive autochthonic race that was conquered by the invading celts, and the remnants of which lurked about the mountains and forests, and excited in their victors a superstitious reverence on account of their great skill in metallurgy; but this will not explain the retention of many of the old god-names; as that of the dusii, the celtic nocturnal spirits, in our word "deuce," and that of the nikr or water-spirits in "nixie" and old "nick."[ ] these words undoubtedly indicate the accomplishment of the "facilis descensus averno" by the native deities. elves, brownies, gnomes, and trolds were all at one time scotch or irish gods. the trolds obtained a character similar to that of the more modern succubus, and have left their impression upon elizabethan english in the word "trull." [footnote : maury, p. .] . the preceding very superficial outline of the growth of the belief in evil spirits is enough for the purpose of this essay, as it shows that the basis of english devil-lore was the annihilated mythologies of the ancient heathen religions--italic and teutonic, as well as those brought into direct conflict with the jewish system; and also that the more important of the teutonic deities are not to be traced in the subsequent hierarchy of fiends, on account probably of their temporary or permanent absorption into the proselytizing system, or the refusal of the new converts to believe them to be so black as their teachers painted them. the gradual growth of the superstructure it would be well-nigh impossible and quite unprofitable to trace. it is due chiefly to the credulous ignorance and distorted imagination, monkish and otherwise, of several centuries. carlyle's graphic picture of abbot sampson's vision of the devil in "past and present" will perhaps do more to explain how the belief grew and flourished than pages of explanatory statements. it is worthy of remark, however, that to the last, communication with evil spirits was kept up by means of formulae and rites that are undeniably the remnants of a form of religious worship. incomprehensible in their jargon as these formulae mostly are, and strongly tinctured as they have become with burlesqued christian symbolism and expression--for those who used them could only supply the fast-dying memory of the elder forms from the existing system--they still, in all their grotesqueness, remain the battered relics of a dead faith. . such being the natural history of the conflict of religions, it will not be a matter of surprise that the leaders of our english reformation should, in their turn, have attributed the miracles of the roman catholic saints to the same infernal source as the early christians supposed to have been the origin of the prodigies and oracles of paganism. the impulse given by the secession from the church of rome to the study of the bible by all classes added impetus to this tendency. in holy writ the reformers found full authority for believing in the existence of evil spirits, possession by devils, witchcraft, and divine and diabolic interference by way of miracle generally; and they consequently acknowledged the possibility of the repetition of such phenomena in the times in which they lived--a position more tenable, perhaps, than that of modern orthodoxy, that accepts without murmur all the supernatural events recorded in the bible, and utterly rejects all subsequent relations of a similar nature, however well authenticated. the reformers believed unswervingly in the truth of the biblical accounts of miracles, and that what god had once permitted to take place might and would be repeated in case of serious necessity. but they found it utterly impossible to accept the puerile and meaningless miracles perpetrated under the auspices of the roman catholic church as evidence of divine interference; and they had not travelled far enough upon the road towards rationalism to be able to reject them, one and all, as in their very nature impossible. the consequence of this was one of those compromises which we so often meet with in the history of the changes of opinion effected by the reformation. only those particular miracles that were indisputably demonstrated to be impostures--and there were plenty of them, such as the rood of boxley[ ]--were treated as such by them. the unexposed remainder were treated as genuine supernatural phenomena, but caused by diabolical, not divine, agency. the reforming divine calfhill, supporting this view of the catholic miracles in his answer to martiall's "treatise of the cross," points out that the majority of supernatural events that have taken place in this world have been, most undoubtedly, the work of the devil; and puts his opponents into a rather embarrassing dilemma by citing the miracles of paganism, which both catholic and protestant concurred in attributing to the evil one. he then clinches his argument by asserting that "it is the devil's cunning that persuades those that will walk in a popish blindness" that they are worshipping god when they are in reality serving him. "therefore," he continues, consciously following an argument of st. cyprianus against the pagan miracles, "these wicked spirits do lurk in shrines, in roods, in crosses, in images: and first of all pervert the priests, which are easiest to be caught with bait of a little gain. then work they miracles. they appear to men in divers shapes; disquiet them when they are awake; trouble them in their sleeps; distort their members; take away their health; afflict them with diseases; only to bring them to some idolatry. thus, when they have obtained their purpose that a lewd affiance is reposed where it should not, they enter (as it were) into a new league, and trouble them no more. what do the simple people then? verily suppose that the image, the cross, the thing that they have kneeled and offered unto (the very devil indeed) hath restored them health, whereas he did nothing but leave off to molest them. this is the help and cure that the devils give when they leave off their wrong and injury."[ ] [footnote : froude, history of england, cabinet edition, iii. .] [footnote : calfhill, pp. - . parker society.] . here we have a distinct charge of devil-worship--the old doctrine cropping up again after centuries of repose: "all the gods of our opponents are devils." nor were the catholics a whit behind the protestants in this matter. the priests zealously taught that the protestants were devil-worshippers and magicians;[ ] and the common people so implicitly believed in the truth of the statement, that we find one poor prisoner, taken by the dutch at the siege of alkmaar in , making a desperate attempt to save his life by promising to worship his captors' devil precisely as they did[ ]--a suggestion that failed to pacify those to whom it was addressed. [footnote : hutchinson's essay, p. . harsnet, declaration, p. .] [footnote : motley, dutch republic, ii. .] . having thus stated, so far as necessary, the chief laws that are constantly working the extension of the domain of the supernatural as far as demonology is concerned, without a remembrance of which the subject itself would remain somewhat difficult to comprehend fully, i shall now attempt to indicate one or two conditions of thought and circumstance that may have tended to increase and vivify the belief during the period in which the elizabethan literature flourished. . it was an era of change. the nation was emerging from the dim twilight of mediaevalism into the full day of political and religious freedom. but the morning mists, which the rising sun had not yet dispelled, rendered the more distant and complex objects distorted and portentous. the very fact that doubt, or rather, perhaps, independence of thought, was at last, within certain limits, treated as non-criminal in theology, gave an impetus to investigation and speculation in all branches of politics and science; and with this change came, in the main, improvement. but the great defect of the time was that this newly liberated spirit of free inquiry was not kept in check by any sufficient previous discipline in logical methods of reasoning. hence the possibility of the wild theories that then existed, followed out into action or not, according as circumstances favoured or discouraged: arthur hacket, with casting out of devils, and other madnesses, vehemently declaring himself the messiah and king of europe in the year of grace , and getting himself believed by some, so long as he remained unhanged; or, more pathetic still, many weary lives wasted day by day in fruitless silent search after the impossible philosopher's stone, or elixir of life. as in law, so in science, there were no sufficient rules of evidence clearly and unmistakably laid down for the guidance of the investigator; and consequently it was only necessary to broach a novel theory in order to have it accepted, without any previous serious testing. men do not seem to have been able to distinguish between an hypothesis and a proved conclusion; or, rather, the rule of presumptions was reversed, and men accepted the hypothesis as conclusive until it was disproved. it was a perfectly rational and sufficient explanation in those days to refer some extraordinary event to some given supernatural cause, even though there might be no ostensible link between the two: now, such a suggestion would be treated by the vast majority with derision or contempt. on the other hand, the most trivial occurrences, such as sneezing, the appearance of birds of ill omen, the crowing of a cock, and events of like unimportance happening at a particular moment, might, by some unseen concatenation of causes and effects, exercise an incomprehensible influence upon men, and consequently had important bearings upon their conduct. it is solemnly recorded in the commons' journals that during the discussion of the statute against witchcraft passed in the reign of james i., a young jackdaw flew into the house; which accident was generally regarded as _malum omen_ to the bill.[ ] extraordinary bravery on the part of an adversary was sometimes accounted for by asserting that he was the devil in the form of a man; as the volscian soldier does with regard to coriolanus. this is no mere dramatist's fancy, but a fixed belief of the times. sir william russell fought so desperately at zutphen, that he got mistaken for the evil one;[ ] and drake also gave the spaniards good reason for believing that he was a devil, and no man.[ ] [footnote : see also d'ewes, p. .] [footnote : froude, xii. .] [footnote : ibid. .] . this intense credulousness, childish almost in itself, but yet at the same time combined with the strong man's intellect, permeated all classes of society. perhaps a couple of instances, drawn from strangely diverse sources, will bring this more vividly before the mind than any amount of attempted theorizing. the first is one of the tricks of the jugglers of the period. "_to make one danse naked._ "make a poore boie confederate with you, so as after charms, etc., spoken by you, he unclothe himself and stand naked, seeming (whilest he undresseth himselfe) to shake, stamp, and crie, still hastening to be unclothed, till he be starke naked; or if you can procure none to go so far, let him onlie beginne to stampe and shake, etc., and unclothe him, and then you may (for reverence of the companie) seeme to release him."[ ] [footnote : scott, p. .] the second illustration must have demanded, if possible, more credulity on the part of the audience than this harmless entertainment. cranmer tells us that in the time of queen mary a monk preached a sermon at st. paul's, the object of which was to prove the truth of the doctrine of transubstantiation; and, after the manner of his kind, told the following little anecdote in support of it:--"a maid of northgate parish in canterbury, in pretence to wipe her mouth, kept the host in her handkerchief; and, when she came home, she put the same into a pot, close covered, and she spitted in another pot, and after a few days, she looking in the one pot, found a little young pretty babe, about a shaftmond long; and the other pot was full of gore blood."[ ] [footnote : cranmer, a confutation of unwritten verities, p. . parker society.] . that the audiences before which these absurdities were seriously brought, for amusement or instruction, could be excited in either case to any other feeling than good-natured contempt for a would-be impostor, seems to us now-a-days to be impossible. it was not so in the times when these things transpired: the actors of them were not knaves, nor were their audiences fools, to any unusual extent. if any one is inclined to form a low opinion of the elizabethans intellectually, on account of the divergence of their capacities of belief in this respect from his own, he does them a great injustice. let him take at once charles lamb's warning, and try to understand, rather than to judge them. we, who have had the benefit of three hundred more years of experience and liberty of thought than they, should have to hide our faces for very shame had we not arrived at juster and truer conclusions upon those difficult topics that so bewildered our ancestors. but can we, with all our boasted advantages of wealth, power, and knowledge, truly say that all our aims are as high, all our desires as pure, our words as true, and our deeds as noble, as those whose opinions we feel this tendency to contemn? if not, or if indeed they have anything whatsoever to teach us in these respects, let us remember that we shall never learn the lesson wholly, perhaps not learn it at all, unless, casting aside this first impulse to despise, we try to enter fully into and understand these strange dead beliefs of the past. * * * * * . it is in this spirit that i now enter upon the second division of the subject in hand, in which i shall try to indicate the chief features of the belief in demonology as it existed during the elizabethan period. these will be taken up in three main heads: the classification, physical appearance, and powers of the evil spirits. . (i.) it is difficult to discover any classification of devils as well authenticated and as universally received as that of the angels introduced by dionysius the areopagite, which was subsequently imported into the creed of the western church, and popularized in elizabethan times by dekker's "hierarchie." the subject was one which, from its nature, could not be settled _ex cathedrâ_, and consequently the subject had to grow up as best it might, each writer adopting the arrangement that appeared to him most suitable. there was one rough but popular classification into greater and lesser devils. the former branch was subdivided into classes of various grades of power, the members of which passed under the titles of kings, dukes, marquises, lords, captains, and other dignities. each of these was supposed to have a certain number of legions of the latter class under his command. these were the evil spirits who appeared most frequently on the earth as the emissaries of the greater fiends, to carry out their evil designs. the more important class kept for the most part in a mystical seclusion, and only appeared upon earth in cases of the greatest emergency, or when compelled to do so by conjuration. to the class of lesser devils belonged the bad angel which, together with a good one, was supposed to be assigned to every person at birth, to follow him through life--the one to tempt, the other to guard from temptation;[ ] so that a struggle similar to that recorded between michael and satan for the body of moses was raging for the soul of every existing human being. this was not a mere theory, but a vital active belief, as the beautiful well-known lines at the commencement of the eighth canto of the second book of "the faerie queene," and the use made of these opposing spirits in marlowe's "dr. faustus," and in "the virgin martyr," by massinger and dekker, conclusively show. [footnote : scot, p. .] . another classification, which seems to retain a reminiscence of the origin of devils from pagan deities, is effected by reference to the localities supposed to be inhabited by the different classes of evil spirits. according to this arrangement we get six classes:-- ( .) devils of the fire, who wander in the region near the moon. ( .) devils of the air, who hover round the earth. ( .) devils of the earth; to whom the fairies are allied. ( .) devils of the water. ( .) submundane devils.[ ] ( .) lucifugi. these devils' power and desire to injure mankind appear to have increased with the proximity of their location to the earth's centre; but this classification had nothing like the hold upon the popular mind that the former grouping had, and may consequently be dismissed with this mention. [footnote : cf. i hen. vi. v. iii. ; hen. vi. i. ii. ; coriolanus, iv. v. .] . the greater devils, or the most important of them, had distinguishing names--strange, uncouth names; some of them telling of a heathenish origin; others inexplicable and almost unpronounceable--as ashtaroth, bael, belial, zephar, cerberus, phoenix, balam (why he?), and haagenti, leraie, marchosias, gusoin, glasya labolas. scot enumerates seventy-nine, the above amongst them, and he does not by any means exhaust the number. as each arch-devil had twenty, thirty, or forty legions of inferior spirits under his command, and a legion was composed of six hundred and sixty-six devils, it is not surprising that the latter did not obtain distinguishing names until they made their appearance upon earth, when they frequently obtained one from the form they loved to assume; for example, the familiars of the witches in "macbeth"--paddock (toad), graymalkin (cat), and harpier (harpy, possibly). is it surprising that, with resources of this nature at his command, such an adept in the art of necromancy as owen glendower should hold harry percy, much to his disgust, at the least nine hours "in reckoning up the several devils' names that were his lackeys"? of the twenty devils mentioned by shakspere, four only belong to the class of greater devils. hecate, the principal patroness of witchcraft, is referred to frequently, and appears once upon the scene.[ ] the two others are amaimon and barbazon, both of whom are mentioned twice. amaimon was a very important personage, being no other than one of the four kings. ziminar was king of the north, and is referred to in "henry vi. part i.;"[ ] gorson of the south; goap of the west; and amaimon of the east. he is mentioned in "henry iv. part i.,"[ ] and "merry wives."[ ] barbazon also occurs in the same passage in the latter play, and again in "henry v."[ ]--a fact that does to a slight extent help to bear out the otherwise ascertained chronological sequence of these plays. the remainder of the devils belong to the second class. nine of these occur in "king lear," and will be referred to again when the subject of possession is touched upon.[ ] [footnote : it is perhaps worthy of remark that in every case except the allusion in the probably spurious henry vi., "i speak not to that railing hecate," (i hen. vi. iii. ii. ), the name is "hecat," a di-syllable.] [footnote : v. iii. .] [footnote : ii. iv. .] [footnote : ii. ii. .] [footnote : ii. i. . scot, p. .] [footnote : § .] . (ii.) it would appear that each of the greater devils, on the rare occasion upon which he made his appearance upon earth, assumed a form peculiar to himself; the lesser devils, on the other hand, had an ordinary type, common to the whole species, with a capacity for almost infinite variation and transmutation which they used, as will be seen, to the extreme perplexity and annoyance of mortals. as an illustration of the form in which a greater devil might appear, this is what scot says of the questionable balam, above mentioned: "balam cometh with three heads, the first of a bull, the second of a man, and the third of a ram. he hath a serpent's taile, and flaming eies; riding upon a furious beare, and carrieng a hawke on his fist."[ ] but it was the lesser devils, not the greater, that came into close contact with humanity, who therefore demand careful consideration. [footnote : p. .] . all the lesser devils seem to have possessed a normal form, which was as hideous and distorted as fancy could render it. to the conception of an angel imagination has given the only beautiful appendage the human body does not possess--wings; to that of a devil it has added all those organs of the brute creation that are most hideous or most harmful. advancing civilization has almost exterminated the belief in a being with horns, cloven hoofs, goggle eyes, and scaly tail, that was held up to many yet living as the avenger of childish disobedience in their earlier days, together perhaps with some strength of conviction of the moral hideousness of the evil he was intended, in a rough way, to typify; but this hazily retained impression of the author of evil was the universal and entirely credited conception of the ordinary appearance of those bad spirits who were so real to our ancestors of elizabethan days. "some are so carnallie minded," says scot, "that a spirit is no sooner spoken of, but they thinke of a blacke man with cloven feet, a paire of hornes, a taile, and eies as big as a bason."[ ] scot, however, was one of a very small minority in his opinion as to the carnal-mindedness of such a belief. he in his day, like those in every age and country who dare to hold convictions opposed to the creed of the majority, was a dangerous sceptic; his book was publicly burnt by the common hangman;[ ] and not long afterwards a royal author wrote a treatise "against the damnable doctrines of two principally in our age; whereof the one, called scot, an englishman, is not ashamed in public print to deny that there can be such a thing as witchcraft, and so mainteines the old error of the sadducees in denying of spirits."[ ] the abandoned impudence of the man!--and the logic of his royal opponent! [footnote : p. . see also hutchinson, essay on witchcraft, p. ; and harsnet, p. .] [footnote : bayle, ix. .] [footnote : james i., daemonologie. edinburgh, .] . spenser has clothed with horror this conception of the appearance of a fiend, just as he has enshrined in beauty the belief in the guardian angel. it is worthy of remark that he describes the devil as dwelling beneath the altar of an idol in a heathen temple. prince arthur strikes the image thrice with his sword-- "and the third time, out of an hidden shade, there forth issewed from under th' altar's smoake a dreadfull feend with fowle deformèd looke, that stretched itselfe as it had long lyen still; and her long taile and fethers strongly shooke, that all the temple did with terrour fill; yet him nought terrifide that fearèd nothing ill. "an huge great beast it was, when it in length was stretchèd forth, that nigh filled all the place, and seemed to be of infinite great strength; horrible, hideous, and of hellish race, borne of the brooding of echidna base, or other like infernall furies kinde, for of a maide she had the outward face to hide the horrour which did lurke behinde the better to beguile whom she so fond did finde. "thereto the body of a dog she had, full of fell ravin and fierce greedinesse; a lion's clawes, with power and rigour clad to rende and teare whatso she can oppresse; a dragon's taile, whose sting without redresse full deadly wounds whereso it is empight, and eagle's wings for scope and speedinesse that nothing may escape her reaching might, whereto she ever list to make her hardy flight." . the dramatists of the period make frequent references to this belief, but nearly always by way of ridicule. it is hardly to be expected that they would share in the grosser opinions held by the common people in those times--common, whether king or clown. in "the virgin martyr," harpax is made to say-- "i'll tell you what now of the devil; he's no such horrid creature, cloven-footed, black, saucer-eyed, his nostrils breathing fire, as these lying christians make him."[ ] but his opinion was, perhaps, a prejudiced one. in ben jonson's "the devil is an ass," when fitzdottrell, doubting pug's statement as to his infernal character, says, "i looked on your feet afore; you cannot cozen me; your shoes are not cloven, sir, you are whole hoofed;" pug, with great presence of mind, replies, "sir, that's a popular error deceives many." so too othello, when he is questioning whether iago is a devil or not, says-- "i look down to his feet, but that's a fable."[ ] and when edgar is trying to persuade the blind gloucester that he has in reality cast himself over the cliff, he describes the being from whom he is supposed to have just parted, thus:-- "as i stood here below, methought his eyes were two full moons: he had a thousand noses; horns whelked and wavèd like the enridgèd sea: it was some fiend."[ ] it can hardly be but that the "thousand noses" are intended as a satirical hit at the enormity of the popular belief. [footnote : act i. sc. .] [footnote : act v. sc. ii. l. .] [footnote : lear, iv. vi. .] . in addition to this normal type, common to all these devils, each one seems to have had, like the greater devils, a favourite form in which he made his appearance when conjured; generally that of some animal, real or imagined. it was telling of "the moldwarp and the ant, of the dreamer merlin, and his prophecies; and of a dragon and a finless fish, a clipwinged griffin, and a moulten raven, a couching lion, and a ramping cat,"[ ] that annoyed harry hotspur so terribly; and neither in this allusion, which was suggested by a passage in holinshed,[ ] nor in "macbeth," where he makes the three witches conjure up their familiars in the shapes of an armed head, a bloody child, and a child crowned, has shakspere gone beyond the fantastic conceptions of the time. [footnote : i hen. iv. iii. i. .] [footnote : p. , c. .] . (iii.) but the third proposed section, which deals with the powers and functions exercised by the evil spirits, is by far the most interesting and important; and the first branch of the series is one that suggests itself as a natural sequence upon what has just been said as to the ordinary shapes in which devils appeared, namely, the capacity to assume at will any form they chose. . in the early and middle ages it was universally believed that a devil could, of his own inherent power, call into existence any manner of body that it pleased his fancy to inhabit, or that would most conduce to the success of any contemplated evil. in consequence of this belief the devils became the rivals, indeed the successful rivals, of jupiter himself in the art of physical tergiversation. there was, indeed, a tradition that a devil could not create any animal form of less size than a barley-corn, and that it was in consequence of this incapacity that the magicians of egypt--those indubitable devil-worshippers--failed to produce lice, as moses did, although they had been so successful in the matter of the serpents and the frogs; "a verie gross absurditie," as scot judiciously remarks.[ ] this, however, would not be a serious limitation upon the practical usefulness of the power. [footnote : p. .] . the great reformation movement wrought a change in this respect. men began to accept argument and reason, though savouring of special pleading of the schools, in preference to tradition, though never so venerable and well authenticated; and the leaders of the revolution could not but recognize the absurdity of laying down as infallible dogma that god was the creator of all things, and then insisting with equal vehemence, by way of postulate, that the devil was the originator of some. the thing was gross and palpable in its absurdity, and had to be done away with as quickly as might be. but how? on the other hand, it was clear as daylight that the devil _did_ appear in various forms to tempt and annoy the people of god--was at that very time doing so in the most open and unabashed manner. how were reasonable men to account for this manifest conflict between rigorous logic and more rigorous fact? there was a prolonged and violent controversy upon the point--the reformers not seeing their way to agree amongst themselves--and tedious as violent. sermons were preached; books were written; and, when argument was exhausted, unpleasant epithets were bandied about, much as in the present day, in similar cases. the result was that two theories were evolved, both extremely interesting as illustrations of the hair-splitting, chop-logic tendency which, amidst all their straightforwardness, was so strongly characteristic of the elizabethans. the first suggestion was, that although the devil could not, of his own inherent power, create a body, he might get hold of a dead carcase and temporarily restore animation, and so serve his turn. this belief was held, amongst others, by the erudite king james,[ ] and is pleasantly satirized by sturdy old ben jonson in "the devil is an ass," where satan (the greater devil, who only appears in the first scene just to set the storm a-brewing) says to pug (puck, the lesser devil, who does all the mischief; or would have done it, had not man, in those latter times, got to be rather beyond the devils in evil than otherwise), not without a touch of regret at the waning of his power-- "you must get a body ready-made, pug, i can create you none;" and consequently pug is advised to assume the body of a handsome cutpurse that morning hung at tyburn. [footnote : daemonologie, p. .] but the theory, though ingenious, was insufficient. the devil would occasionally appear in the likeness of a living person; and how could that be accounted for? again, an evil spirit, with all his ingenuity, would find it hard to discover the dead body of a griffin, or a harpy, or of such eccentricity as was affected by the before-mentioned balam; and these and other similar forms were commonly favoured by the inhabitants of the nether world. . the second theory, therefore, became the more popular amongst the learned, because it left no one point unexplained. the divines held that although the power of the creator had in no wise been delegated to the devil, yet he was, in the course of providence, permitted to exercise a certain supernatural influence over the minds of men, whereby he could persuade them that they really saw a form that had no material objective existence.[ ] here was a position incontrovertible, not on account of the arguments by which it could be supported, but because it was impossible to reason against it; and it slowly, but surely, took hold upon the popular mind. indeed, the elimination of the diabolic factor leaves the modern sceptical belief that such apparitions are nothing more than the result of disease, physical or mental. [footnote : dialogicall discourses, by deacon and walker, th dialogue. bullinger, p. . parker society.] . but the semi-sceptical state of thought was in shakspere's time making its way only amongst the more educated portion of the nation. the masses still clung to the old and venerated, if not venerable, belief that devils could at any moment assume what form soever they might please--not troubling themselves further to inquire into the method of the operation. they could appear in the likeness of an ordinary human being, as harpax[ ] and mephistopheles[ ] do, creating thereby the most embarrassing complications in questions of identity; and if this belief is borne in mind, the charge of being a devil, so freely made, in the times of which we write, and before alluded to, against persons who performed extraordinary feats of valour, or behaved in a manner discreditable and deserving of general reprobation, loses much of its barbarous grotesqueness. there was no doubt as to coriolanus,[ ] as has been said; nor shylock.[ ] even "the outward sainted angelo is yet a devil;"[ ] and prince hal confesses that "there is a devil haunts him in the likeness of an old fat man ... an old white-bearded satan."[ ] [footnote : in the virgin martyr.] [footnote : in dr. faustus.] [footnote : coriolanus, i. x. .] [footnote : merchant of venice, iii. i. .] [footnote : measure for measure, iii. i. .] [footnote : i hen. iv., ii. iv. - .] . the devils had an inconvenient habit of appearing in the guise of an ecclesiastic[ ]--at least, so the churchmen were careful to insist, especially when busying themselves about acts of temptation that would least become the holy robe they had assumed. this was the ecclesiastical method of accounting for certain stories, not very creditable to the priesthood, that had too inconvenient a basis of evidence to be dismissed as fabricatious. but the honest lay public seem to have thought, with downright old chaucer, that there was more in the matter than the priests chose to admit. this feeling we, as usual, find reflected in the dramatic literature of our period. in "the troublesome raigne of king john," an old play upon the basis of which shakspere constructed his own "king john," we find this question dealt with in some detail. in the elder play, the bastard does "the shaking of bags of hoarding abbots," _coram populo_, and thereby discloses a phase of monastic life judiciously suppressed by shakspere. philip sets at liberty much more than "imprisoned angels"--according to one account, and that a monk's, imprisoned beings of quite another sort. "faire alice, the nonne," having been discovered in the chest where the abbot's wealth was supposed to be concealed, proposes to purchase pardon for the offence by disclosing the secret hoard of a sister nun. her offer being accepted, a friar is ordered to force the box in which the treasure is supposed to be secreted. on being questioned as to its contents, he answers-- "frier laurence, my lord, now holy water help us! some witch or some divell is sent to delude us: _haud credo laurentius_ that thou shouldst be pen'd thus in the presse of a nun; we are all undone, and brought to discredence, if thou be frier laurence."[ ] unfortunately it proves indubitably to be that good man; and he is ordered to execution, not, however, without some hope of redemption by money payment; for times are hard, and cash in hand not to be despised. [footnote : see the story about bishop sylvanus.--lecky, rationalism in europe, i. .] [footnote : hazlitt, shakspere library, part ii. vol. i. p. .] it is amusing to notice, too, that when assuming the clerical garb, the devil carefully considered the religious creed of the person to whom he intended to make himself known. the catholic accounts of him show him generally assuming the form of a protestant parson;[ ] whilst to those of the reformed creed he invariably appeared in the habit of a catholic priest. in the semblance of a friar the devil is reported (by a protestant) to have preached, upon a time, "a verie catholic sermon;"[ ] so good, indeed, that a priest who was a listener could find no fault with the doctrine--a stronger basis of fact than one would have imagined for shakspere's saying, "the devil can cite scripture for his purpose." [footnote : harsnet, p. .] [footnote : scot, p. .] . it is not surprising that of human forms, that of a negro or moor should be considered a favourite one with evil spirits.[ ] iago makes allusion to this when inciting brabantio to search for his daughter.[ ] the power of coming in the likeness of humanity generally is referred to somewhat cynically in "timon of athens,"[ ] thus-- "_varro's servant._ what is a whoremaster, fool? "_fool._ a fool in good clothes, and something like thee. 'tis a spirit: sometime 't appears like a lord; sometime like a lawyer; sometime like a philosopher with two stones more than 's artificial one: he is very often like a knight; and, generally, in all shapes that man goes up and down in, from fourscore to thirteen, this spirit walks in." [footnote : scot, p. .] [footnote : othello, i. i. .] [footnote : ii. ii. .] "all shapes that man goes up and down in" seem indeed to have been at the devils' control. so entirely was this the case, that to constance even the fair blanche was none other than the devil tempting louis "in likeness of a new uptrimmed bride;"[ ] and perhaps not without a certain prophetic feeling of the fitness of things, as it may possibly seem to some of our more warlike politicians, evil spirits have been known to appear as russians.[ ] [footnote : king john, iii. i. .] [footnote : harsnet, p. .] . but all the "shapes that man goes up and down in" did not suffice. the forms of the whole of the animal kingdom seem to have been at the devils' disposal; and, not content with these, they seem to have sought further for unlikely shapes to assume.[ ] poor caliban complains that prospero's spirits "lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark,"[ ] just as ariel[ ] and puck[ ] (will-o'-th'-wisp) mislead their victims; and that "for every trifle are they set upon me: sometimes like apes, that mow and chatter at me, and after bite me; then like hedgehogs, which lie tumbling in my barefoot way, and mount their pricks at my footfall. sometime am i all wound with adders, who, with cloven tongues, do hiss me into madness." and doubtless the scene which follows this soliloquy, in which caliban, trinculo, and stephano mistake one another in turn for evil spirits, fully flavoured with fun as it still remains, had far more point for the audiences at the globe--to whom a stray devil or two was quite in the natural order of things under such circumstances--than it can possibly possess for us. in this play, ariel, prospero's familiar, besides appearing in his natural shape, and dividing into flames, and behaving in such a manner as to cause young ferdinand to leap into the sea, crying, "hell is empty, and all the devils are here!" assumes the forms of a water-nymph,[ ] a harpy,[ ] and also the goddess ceres;[ ] while the strange shapes, masquers, and even the hounds that hunt and worry the would-be king and viceroys of the island, are ariel's "meaner fellows." [footnote : for instance, an eye without a head.--ibid.] [footnote : the tempest, ii. ii. .] [footnote : ibid. i. ii. .] [footnote : a midsummer night's dream, ii. i. ; iii. i. .] [footnote : i. ii. - .] [footnote : iii. iii. .] [footnote : iv. i. .] . puck's favourite forms seem to have been more outlandish than ariel's, as might have been expected of that malicious little spirit. he beguiles "the fat and bean-fed horse" by "neighing in likeness of a filly foal: and sometimes lurk i in a gossip's bowl, in very likeness of a roasted crab; and when she drinks, against her lips i bob, and on her withered dewlap pour the ale. the wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale, sometime for three-foot stool[ ] mistaketh me; then slip i from her, and down topples she." and again: "sometime a horse i'll be, sometime a hound, a hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire; and neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn, like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn."[ ] with regard to this last passage, it is worthy of note that in the year , strange news came out of somersetshire, entitled "a dreadful discourse of the dispossessing of one margaret cowper, at ditchet, from a devil in the likeness of a headless bear."[ ] [footnote : a scotch witch, when leaving her bed to go to a sabbath, used to put a three-foot stool in the vacant place; which, after charms duly mumbled, assumed the appearance of a woman until her return.--pitcairn, iii. .] [footnote : iii. i. .] [footnote : hutchinson, p. .] . in heywood and brome's "witch of edmonton," the devil appears in the likeness of a black dog, and takes his part in the dialogue, as if his presence were a matter of quite ordinary occurrence, not in any way calling for special remark. however gross and absurd this may appear, it must be remembered that this play is, in its minutest details, merely a dramatization of the events duly proved in a court of law, to the satisfaction of twelve englishmen, in the year .[ ] the shape of a fly, too, was a favourite one with the evil spirits; so much so that the term "fly" became a common synonym for a familiar.[ ] the word "beelzebub" was supposed to mean "the king of flies." at the execution of urban grandier, the famous magician of london, in , a large fly was seen buzzing about the stake, and a priest promptly seizing the opportunity of improving the occasion for the benefit of the onlookers, declared that beelzebub had come in his own proper person to carry off grandier's soul to hell. in occurred the celebrated witch-trials which took place before sir matthew hale. the accused were charged with bewitching two children; and part of the evidence against them was that flies and bees were seen to carry into the victims' mouths the nails and pins which they afterwards vomited.[ ] there is an allusion to this belief in the fly-killing scene in "titus andronicus."[ ] [footnote : potts, discoveries. edit. cheetham society.] [footnote : cf. b. jonson's alchemist.] [footnote : a collection of rare and curious tracts relating to witchcraft, .] [footnote : iii. ii. , et seq.] . but it was not invariably a repulsive or ridiculous form that was assumed by these enemies of mankind. their ingenuity would have been but little worthy of commendation had they been content to appear as ordinary human beings, or animals, or even in fancy costume. the swiss divine bullinger, after a lengthy and elaborately learned argument as to the particular day in the week of creation upon which it was most probable that god called the angels into being, says, by way of peroration, "let us lead a holy and angel-like life in the sight of god's holy angels. let us watch, lest he that transfigureth and turneth himself into an angel of light under a good show and likeness deceive us."[ ] they even went so far, according to cranmer,[ ] as to appear in the likeness of christ, in their desire to mislead mankind; for-- "when devils will the blackest sins put on, they do suggest at first with heavenly shows."[ ] [footnote : bullinger, fourth decade, th sermon. parker society.] [footnote : cranmer, confutation, p. . parker society.] [footnote : othello, ii. iii. . cf. love's labour's lost, iv. iii. ; comedy of errors, iv. iii. .] . but one of the most ordinary forms supposed at this period to be assumed by devils was that of a dead friend of the object of the visitation. before the reformation, the belief that the spirits of the departed had power at will to revisit the scenes and companions of their earthly life was almost universal. the reforming divines distinctly denied the possibility of such a revisitation, and accounted for the undoubted phenomena, as usual, by attributing them to the devil.[ ] james i. says that the devil, when appearing to men, frequently assumed the form of a person newly dead, "to make them believe that it was some good spirit that appeared to them, either to forewarn them of the death of their friend, or else to discover unto them the will of the defunct, or what was the way of his slauchter.... for he dare not so illude anie that knoweth that neither can the spirit of the defunct returne to his friend, nor yet an angell use such formes."[ ] he further explains that such devils follow mortals to obtain two ends: "the one is the tinsell (loss) of their life by inducing them to such perrilous places at such times as he either follows or possesses them. the other thing that he preases to obtain is the tinsell of their soule."[ ] [footnote : see hooper's declaration of the ten commandments. parker society. hooper, .] [footnote : daemonologie, p. .] [footnote : cf. hamlet, i. iv. - ; and post, § .] . but the belief in the appearance of ghosts was too deeply rooted in the popular mind to be extirpated, or even greatly affected, by a dogmatic declaration. the masses went on believing as they always had believed, and as their fathers had believed before them, in spite of the reformers, and to their no little discontent. pilkington, bishop of durham, in a letter to archbishop parker, dated , complains that, "among other things that be amiss here in your great cares, ye shall understand that in blackburn there is a fantastical (and as some say, lunatic) young man, which says that he has spoken with one of his neighbours that died four year since, or more. divers times he says he has seen him, and talked with him, and took with him the curate, the schoolmaster, and other neighbours, who all affirm that they see him. _these things be so common here_ that none in authority will gainsay it, but rather believe and confirm it, that everybody believes it. if i had known how to examine with authority, i would have done it."[ ] here is a little glimpse at the practical troubles of a well-intentioned bishop of the sixteenth century that is surely worth preserving. [footnote : parker correspondence, . parker society.] . there were thus two opposite schools of belief in this matter of the supposed spirits of the departed:--the conservative, which held to the old doctrine of ghosts; and the reforming, which denied the possibility of ghosts, and held to the theory of devils. in the midst of this disagreement of doctors it was difficult for a plain man to come to a definite conclusion upon the question; and, in consequence, all who were not content with quiet dogmatism were in a state of utter uncertainty upon a point not entirely without importance in practical life as well as in theory. this was probably the position in which the majority of thoughtful men found themselves; and it is accurately reflected in three of shakspere's plays, which, for other and weightier reasons, are grouped together in the same chronological division--"julius caesar," "macbeth," and "hamlet." in the first-mentioned play, brutus, who afterwards confesses his belief that the apparition he saw at sardis was the ghost of caesar,[ ] when in the actual presence of the spirit, says-- "art thou some god, some angel, or some devil?"[ ] the same doubt flashes across the mind of macbeth on the second entrance of banquo's ghost--which is probably intended to be a devil appearing at the instigation of the witches--when he says, with evident allusion to a diabolic power before referred to-- "what man dare, i dare: approach thou like the rugged russian bear, the armed rhinoceros, or the hyrcan tiger, take any shape but that."[ ] [footnote : julius caesar, v. v. .] [footnote : ibid. iv. iii. .] [footnote : macbeth, iii. iv. .] . but it is in "hamlet" that the undecided state of opinion upon this subject is most clearly reflected; and hardly enough influence has been allowed to the doubts arising from this conflict of belief, as urgent or deterrent motives in the play, because this temporary condition of thought has been lost sight of. it is exceedingly interesting to note how frequently the characters who have to do with the apparition of the late king hamlet alternate between the theories that it is a ghost and that it is a devil which they have seen. the whole subject has such an important bearing upon any attempt to estimate the character of hamlet, that no excuse need be offered for once again traversing such well-trodden ground. horatio, it is true, is introduced to us in a state of determined scepticism; but this lasts for a few seconds only, vanishing upon the first entrance of the spectre, and never again appearing. his first inclination seems to be to the belief that he is the victim of a diabolical illusion; for he says-- "what art thou, that _usurp'st_ this time of night, together with that fair and warlike form in which the majesty of buried denmark did sometimes march?"[ ] and marcellus seems to be of the same opinion, for immediately before, he exclaims-- "thou art a scholar, speak to it, horatio;" having apparently the same idea as had coachman toby, in "the night-walker," when he exclaims-- "let's call the butler up, for he speaks latin, and that will daunt the devil."[ ] on the second appearance of the illusion, however, horatio leans to the opinion that it is really the ghost of the late king that he sees, probably in consequence of the conversation that has taken place since the former visitation; and he now appeals to the ghost for information that may enable him to procure rest for his wandering soul. again, during his interview with hamlet, when he discloses the secret of the spectre's appearance, though very guarded in his language, horatio clearly intimates his conviction that he has seen the spirit of the late king. [footnote : i. i. .] [footnote : ii. i.] the same variation of opinion is visible in hamlet himself; but, as might be expected, with much more frequent alternations. when first he hears horatio's story, he seems to incline to the belief that it must be the work of some diabolic agency: "if it assume my noble father's person, i'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape, and bid me hold my peace;"[ ] although, characteristically, in almost the next line he exclaims-- "my father's spirit in arms! all is not well," etc. this, too, seems to be the dominant idea in his mind when he is first brought face to face with the apparition and exclaims-- "angels and ministers of grace defend us!-- be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damned, bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts from hell, be thine intents wicked or charitable, thou com'st in such a questionable shape, that i will speak to thee."[ ] for it cannot be supposed that hamlet imagined that a "goblin damned" could actually be the spirit of his dead father; and, therefore, the alternative in his mind must have been that he saw a devil assuming his father's likeness--a form which the evil one knew would most incite hamlet to intercourse. but even as he speaks, the other theory gradually obtains ascendency in his mind, until it becomes strong enough to induce him to follow the spirit. [footnote : i. ii. .] [footnote : i. iv. .] but whilst the devil-theory is gradually relaxing its hold upon hamlet's mind, it is fastening itself with ever-increasing force upon the minds of his companions; and horatio expresses their fears in words that are worth comparing with those just quoted from james's "daemonologie." hamlet responds to their entreaties not to follow the spectre thus-- "why, what should be the fear? i do not set my life at a pin's fee; and, for my soul, what can it do to that, being a thing immortal as itself?" and horatio answers-- "what if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord, or to the dreadful summit of the cliff, that beetles o'er his base into the sea, and there assume some other horrible form, which might deprive your sovereignty of reason, and draw you into madness?" the idea that the devil assumed the form of a dead friend in order to procure the "tinsell" of both body and soul of his victim is here vividly before the minds of the speakers of these passages.[ ] [footnote : see ante, § .] the subsequent scene with the ghost convinces hamlet that he is not the victim of malign influences--as far as he is capable of conviction, for his very first words when alone restate the doubt: "o all you host of heaven! o earth! _what else?_ and shall i couple hell?"[ ] and the enthusiasm with which he is inspired in consequence of this interview is sufficient to support his certainty of conviction until the time for decisive action again arrives. it is not until the idea of the play-test occurs to him that his doubts are once more aroused; and then they return with redoubled force:-- "the spirit that i have seen may be the devil: and the devil hath power to assume a pleasing shape; yea, and, perhaps, out of my weakness and my melancholy, (as he is very potent with such spirits,) abuses me to damn me."[ ] and he again alludes to this in his speech to horatio, just before the entry of the king and his train to witness the performance of the players.[ ] [footnote : i. v. .] [footnote : ii. ii. .] [footnote : iii. ii. .] . this question was, in shakspere's time, quite a legitimate element of uncertainty in the complicated problem that presented itself for solution to hamlet's ever-analyzing mind; and this being so, an apparent inconsistency in detail which has usually been charged upon shakspere with regard to this play, can be satisfactorily explained. some critics are never weary of exclaiming that shakspere's genius was so vast and uncontrollable that it must not be tested, or expected to be found conformable to the rules of art that limit ordinary mortals; that there are many discrepancies and errors in his plays that are to be condoned upon that account; in fact, that he was a very careless and slovenly workman. a favourite instance of this is taken from "hamlet," where shakspere actually makes the chief character of the play talk of death as "the bourne from whence no traveller returns" not long after he has been engaged in a prolonged conversation with such a returned traveller. now, no artist, however distinguished or however transcendent his genius, is to be pardoned for insincere workmanship, and the greater the man, the less his excuse. errors arising from want of information (and shakspere commits these often) may be pardoned if the means for correcting them be unattainable; but errors arising from mere carelessness are not to be pardoned. further, in many of these cases of supposed contradiction there is an element of carelessness indeed; but it lies at the door of the critic, not of the author; and this appears to be true in the present instance. the dilemma, as it presented itself to the contemporary mind, must be carefully kept in view. either the spirits of the departed could revisit this world, or they could not. if they could not, then the apparitions mistaken for them must be devils assuming their forms. now, the tendency of hamlet's mind, immediately before the great soliloquy on suicide, is decidedly in favour of the latter alternative. the last words that he has uttered, which are also the last quoted here,[ ] are those in which he declares most forcibly that he believes the devil-theory possible, and consequently that the dead do not return to this world; and his utterances in his soliloquy are only an accentuate and outcome of this feeling of uncertainty. the very root of his desire for death is that he cannot discard with any feeling of certitude the protestant doctrine that no traveller does after death return from the invisible world, and that the so-called ghosts are a diabolic deception. [footnote : § , p. .] . another power possessed by the evil spirits, and one that excited much attention and created an immense amount of strife during elizabethan times, was that of entering into the bodies of human beings, or otherwise influencing them so as utterly to deprive them of all self-control, and render them mere automata under the command of the fiends. this was known as possession, or obsession. it was another of the mediaeval beliefs against which the reformers steadily set their faces; and all the resources of their casuistry were exhausted to expose its absurdity. but their position in this respect was an extremely delicate one. on one side of them zealous catholics were exorcising devils, who shrieked out their testimony to the eternal truth of the holy catholic church; whilst at the same time, on the other side, the zealous puritans of the extremer sort were casting out fiends, who bore equally fervent testimony to the superior efficacy and purity of the protestant faith. the tendency of the more moderate members of the party, therefore was towards a compromise similar to that arrived at upon the question how the devils came by the forms in which they appeared upon the earth. they could not admit that devils could actually enter into and possess the body of a man in those latter days, although during the earlier history of the church such things had been permitted by divine providence for some inscrutable but doubtless satisfactory reason:--that was catholicism. on the other hand, they could not for an instant tolerate or even sanction the doctrine that devils had no power whatever over humanity:--that was atheism. but it was quite possible that evil spirits, without actually entering into the body of a man, might so infest, worry, and torment him, as to produce all the symptoms indicative of possession. the doctrine of obsession replaced that of possession; and, once adopted, was supported by a string of those quaint, conceited arguments so peculiar to the time.[ ] [footnote : dialogicall discourses, by deacon and walker, rd dialogue.] . but, as in all other cases, the refinements of the theologians had little or no effect upon the world outside their controversies. to the ordinary mind, if a man's eyes goggled, body swelled, and mouth foamed, and it was admitted that these were the work of a devil, the question whether the evil-doer were actually housed within the sufferer, or only hovered in his immediate neighbourhood, seemed a question of such minor importance as to be hardly worth discussing--a conclusion that the lay mind is apt to come to upon other questions that appear portentous to the divines--and the theory of possession, having the advantage in time over that of obsession, was hard to dislodge. . one of the chief causes of the persistency with which the old belief was maintained was the utter ignorance of the medical men of the period on the subject of mental disease. the doctors of the time were mere children in knowledge of the science they professed; and to attribute a disease, the symptoms of which they could not comprehend, to a power outside their control by ordinary methods, was a safe method of screening a reputation which might otherwise have suffered. "canst thou not minister to a mind diseased?" cries macbeth to the doctor, in one of those moments of yearning after the better life he regrets, but cannot return to, which come over him now and again. no; the disease is beyond his practice; and, although this passage has in it a deeper meaning than the one attributed to it here, it well illustrates the position of the medical man in such cases. most doctors of the time were mere empirics; dabbled more or less in alchemy; and, in the treatment of mental disease, were little better than children. they had for co-practitioners all who, by their credit with the populace for superior wisdom, found themselves in a position to engage in a profitable employment. priests, preachers, schoolmasters--dr. pinches and sir topazes--became so commonly exorcists, that the church found it necessary to forbid the casting out of spirits without a special license for that purpose.[ ] but as the reformers only combated the doctrine of possession upon strictly theological grounds, and did not go on to suggest any substitute for the time-honoured practice of exorcism as a means for getting rid of the admittedly obnoxious result of diabolic interference, it is not altogether surprising that the method of treatment did not immediately change. [footnote : nd canon.] . upon this subject a book called "tryal of witchcraft," by john cotta, "doctor in physike," published in , is extremely instructive. the writer is evidently in advance of his time in his opinions upon the principal subject with which he professes to deal, and weighs the evidence for and against the reality of witchcraft with extreme precision and fairness. in the course of his argument he has to distinguish the symptoms that show a person to have been bewitched, from those that point to a demoniacal possession.[ ] "reason doth detect," says he, "the sicke to be afflicted by the immediate supernaturall power of the devil two wayes: the first way is by such things as are subject and manifest to the learned physicion only; the second is by such things as are subject and manifest to the vulgar view." the two signs by which the "learned physicion" recognized diabolic intervention were: first, the preternatural appearance of the disease from which the patient was suffering; and, secondly, the inefficacy of the remedies applied. in other words, if the leech encountered any disease the symptoms of which were unknown to him, or if, through some unforeseen circumstances, the drug he prescribed failed to operate in its accustomed manner, a case of demoniacal possession was considered to be conclusively proved, and the medical man was merged in the magician. [footnote : ch. .] . the second class of cases, in which the diabolic agency is palpable to the layman as well as the doctor, cotta illustrates thus: "in the time of their paroxysmes or fits, some diseased persons have been seene to vomit crooked iron, coales, brimstone, nailes, needles, pinnes, lumps of lead, waxe, hayre, strawe, and the like, in such quantities, figure, fashion, and proportion as could never possiblie pass down, or arise up thorow the natural narrownesse of the throate, or be contained in the unproportionable small capacitie, naturall susceptibilitie, and position of the stomake." possessed persons, he says, were also clairvoyant, telling what was being said and done at a far distance; and also spoke languages which at ordinary times they did not understand, as their successors, the modern spirit mediums, do. this gift of tongues was one of the prominent features of the possession of will sommers and the other persons exorcised by the protestant preacher john darrell, whose performances as an exorcist created quite a domestic sensation in england at the close of the sixteenth century.[ ] the whole affair was investigated by dr. harsnet, who had already acquired fame as an iconoclast in these matters, as will presently be seen; but it would have little more than an antiquarian interest now, were it not for the fact that ben jonson made it the subject of his satire in one of his most humorous plays, "the devil is an ass." in it he turns the last-mentioned peculiarity to good account; for when fitzdottrell, in the fifth act, feigns madness, and quotes aristophanes, and speaks in spanish and french, the judicious sir paul eithersides comes to the conclusion that "it is the devil by his several languages." [footnote : a true relation of the grievious handling of william sommers, etc. london: t. harper, (? ). the tryall of maister darrell, .] . but more interesting, and more important for the present purpose, are the cases of possession that were dealt with by father parsons and his colleagues in - , and of which dr. harsnet gave such a highly spiced and entertaining account in his "declaration of egregious popish impostures," first published in the year . it is from this work that shakspere took the names of the devils mentioned by edgar, and other references made by him in "king lear;" and an outline of the relation of the play to the book will furnish incidentally much matter illustrative of the subject of possession. but before entering upon this outline, a brief glance at the condition of affairs political and domestic, which partially caused and nourished these extraordinary eccentricities, is almost essential to a proper understanding of them. . the year was probably one of the most critical years that england has passed through since she was first a nation. standing alone amongst the european states, with even the netherlanders growing cold towards her on account of her ambiguous treatment of them, she had to fight out the battle of her independence against odds to all appearances irresistible. with sixtus plotting her overthrow at rome, philip at madrid, mendoza and the english traitors at paris, and mary of scotland at chartley, while a third of her people were malcontent, and james the sixth was friend or enemy as it best suited his convenience, the outlook was anything but reassuring for the brave men who held the helm in those stormy times. but although england owed her deliverance chiefly to the forethought and hardihood of her sons, it cannot be doubted that the sheer imbecility of her foes contributed not a little to that result. to both these conditions she owed the fact that the great armada, the embodiment of the foreign hatred and hostility, threatening to break upon her shores like a huge wave, vanished like its spray. medina sidonia, with his querulous complaints and general ineffectuality,[ ] was hardly a match for drake and his sturdy companions; nor were the leaders of the babington conspiracy, the representatives and would-be leaders of the corresponding internal convulsion, the infatuated worshippers of the fair devil of scotland, the men to cope for a moment with the intellects of walsingham and burleigh. [footnote : froude, xii. p. .] . the events which harsnet investigated and wrote upon with politico-theological animus formed an eddy in the main current of the babington conspiracy. for some years before that plot had taken definite shape, seminary priests had been swarming into england from the continent, and were sedulously engaged in preaching rebellion in the rural districts, sheltered and protected by the more powerful of the disaffected nobles and gentry--modern apostles, preparing the way before the future regenerator of england, cardinal allen, the would-be catholic archbishop of canterbury. among these was one weston, who, in his enthusiastic admiration for the martyr-traitor, edmund campion, had adopted the alias of edmonds. this jesuit was gifted with the power of casting out devils, and he exercised it in order to prove the divine origin of the holy catholic faith, and, by implication, the duty of all persons religiously inclined, to rebel against a sovereign who was ruthlessly treading it into the dust. the performances which harsnet examined into took place chiefly in the house of lord vaux at hackney, and of one peckham at denham, in the end of the year and the beginning of . the possessed persons were anthony tyrell, another jesuit who rounded upon his friends in the time of their tribulation;[ ] marwood, antony babington's private servant, who subsequently found it convenient to leave the country, and was never examined upon the subject; trayford and mainy, two young gentlemen, and sara and friswood williams, and anne smith, maid-servants. richard mainy, the most edifying subject of them all, was seventeen only when the possession seized him; he had only just returned to england from rheims, and, when passing through paris, had come under the influence of charles paget and morgan; so his antecedents appeared somewhat open to suspicion.[ ] [footnote : the fall of anthony tyrell, by persoun. see the troubles of our catholic forefathers, by john morris, p. .] [footnote : he was examined by the government as to his connection with the paris conspirators.--see state papers, vol. clxxx. , .] . with the truth or falsehood of the statements and deductions made by harsnet, we have little or no concern. western did not pretend to deny that he had the power of exorcism, or that he exercised it upon the persons in question, but he did not admit the truth of any of the more ridiculous stories which harsnet so triumphantly brings forward to convict him of intentional deceit; and his features, if the portrait in father morris's book is an accurate representation of him, convey an impression of feeble, unpractical piety that one is loth to associate with a malicious impostor. in addition to this, one of the witnesses against him, tyrell, was a manifest knave and coward; another, mainy, as conspicuous a fool; while the rest were servant-maids--all of them interested in exonerating themselves from the stigma of having been adherents of a lost cause, at the expense of a ringleader who seemed to have made himself too conspicuous to escape punishment. furthermore, the evidence of these witnesses was not taken until and , twelve and sixteen years after the events to which it related took place; and when taken, was taken by harsnet, a violent protestant and almost maniacal exorcist-hunter, as the miscellaneous collection of literature evoked by his exposure of parson darrell's dealings with will sommers and others will show. . among the many devils' names mentioned by harsnet in his "declaration," and in the examinations of witnesses annexed to it, the following have undoubtedly been repeated in "king lear":--fliberdigibet, spelt in the play flibbertigibbet; hoberdidance called hopdance and hobbididance; and frateretto, who are called morris-dancers; haberdicut, who appears in "lear" as obidicut; smolkin, one of trayford's devils; modu, who possessed mainy; and maho, who possessed sara williams. these two latter devils have in the play managed to exchange the final vowels of their names, and appear as modo and mahu.[ ] [footnote : in addition to these, killico has probably been corrupted into pillicock--a much more probable explanation of the word than either of those suggested by dyce in his glossary; and i have little doubt that the ordinary reading of the line, "pur! the cat is gray!" in act iii. vi. , is incorrect; that pur is not an interjection, but the repetition of the name of another devil, purre, who is mentioned by harsnet. the passage in question occurs only in the quartos, and therefore the fact that there is no stop at all after the word "pur" cannot be relied upon as helping to prove the correctness of this supposition. on the other hand, there is nothing in the texts to justify the insertion of the note of exclamation.] . a comparison of the passages in "king lear" spoken by edgar when feigning madness, with those in harsnet's book which seem to have suggested them, will furnish as vivid a picture as it is possible to give of the state of contemporary belief upon the subject of possession. it is impossible not to notice that nearly all the allusions in the play refer to the performance of the youth richard mainy. even edgar's hypothetical account of his moral failings in the past seems to have been an accurate reproduction of mainy's conduct in some particulars, as the quotation below will prove;[ ] and there appears to be so little necessity for these remarks of edgar's, that it seems almost possible that there may have been some point in these passages that has since been lost. a careful search, however, has failed to disclose any reason why mainy should be held up to obloquy; and the passages in question were evidently not the result of a direct reference to the "declaration." after his examination by harsnet in , mainy seems to have sunk into the insignificant position which he was so calculated to adorn, and nothing more is heard of him; so the references to him must be accidental merely. [footnote : "he would needs have persuaded this examinate's sister to have gone thence with him in the apparel of a youth, and to have been his boy and waited upon him.... he urged this examinate divers times to have yielded to his carnal desires, using very unfit tricks with her. there was also a very proper woman, one mistress plater, with whom this examinate perceived he had many allurements, showing great tokens of extraordinary affection towards her."--evidence of sara williams, harsnet, p. . compare king lear, act iii. sc. iv. ll. - ; note especially l. .] . one curious little repetition in the play of a somewhat unimportant incident recorded by harsnet is to be found in the fourth scene of the third act, where edgar says-- "who gives anything to poor tom? whom the foul fiend hath led through fire and through flame, and through ford and whirlpool, o'er bog and quagmire; _that hath laid knives under his pillow, and halters in his pew_; set ratsbane by his porridge," etc.[ ] [footnote : l. , et seq.] the events referred to took place at denham. a halter and some knife-blades were found in a corridor of the house. "a great search was made in the house to know how the said halter and knife-blades came thither, but it could not in any wise be found out, as it was pretended, till master mainy in his next fit said, as it was reported, that the devil layd them in the gallery, that some of those that were possessed might either hang themselves with the halter, or kill themselves with the blades."[ ] [footnote : harsnet, p. .] . but the bulk of the references relating to the possession of mainy occur further on in the same scene:-- "_fool._ this cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen. "_edgar._ take heed o' the foul fiend: obey thy parents; keep thy word justly; swear not; commit not with man's sworn spouse;[ ] set not thy sweet heart on proud array: tom's a-cold. "_lear._ what hast thou been? "_edgar._ a serving-man, proud in heart and mind, that curled my hair, wore my gloves in my cap, served the lust of my mistress' heart, and did the act of darkness with her;[ ] swore as many oaths as i spake words, and broke them in the sweet face of heaven; one that slept in the contriving of lust, and waked to do it; wine loved i deeply; dice dearly; and in women out-paramoured the turk: false of heart, light of ear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey. let not the creaking of shoes, nor the rustling of silks, betray thy poor heart to woman; keep thy foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets,[ ] thy pen from lenders' books, and defy the foul fiend."[ ] [footnote : cf. § , and note.] [footnote : cf. § , and note.] [footnote : placket probably here means pockets; not, as usual, the slip in a petticoat. tom was possessed by mahu, the prince of stealing.] [footnote : l. , et seq.] this must be read in conjunction with what edgar says of himself subsequently:-- "five fiends have been in poor tom at once; of lust, as obidicut; hobbididance, prince of dumbness; mahu, of stealing; modo, of murder; flibbertigibbet, of mopping and mowing; who since possesses chamber-maids and waiting-women."[ ] [footnote : act iv. i. .] the following are the chief parts of the account given by harsnet of the exorcism of mainy by weston--a most extraordinary transaction,--said to be taken from weston's own account of the matter. he was supposed to be possessed by the devils who represented the seven deadly sins, and "by instigation of the first of the seven, began to set his hands into his side, curled his hair, and used such gestures as maister edmunds present affirmed that that spirit was pride.[ ] heerewith he began to curse and to banne, saying, 'what a poxe do i heare? i will stay no longer among a company of rascal priests, but goe to the court and brave it amongst my fellowes, the noblemen there assembled.'[ ] ... then maister edmunds did proceede againe with his exorcismes, and suddenly the sences of mainy were taken from him, his belly began to swell, and his eyes to stare, and suddainly he cried out, 'ten pounds in the hundred!' he called for a scrivener to make a bond, swearing that he would not lend his money without a pawne.... there could be no other talke had with this spirit but money and usury, so as all the company deemed this devil to be the author of covetousnesse....[ ] [footnote : "a serving-man, proud of heart and mind, that curled my hair," etc.--l. ; cf. also l. . curling the hair as a sign of mainy's possession is mentioned again, harsnet, p. .] [footnote : "that ... swore as many oaths as i spake words, and broke them in the sweet face of heaven."--l. .] [footnote : "keep ... thy pen out of lenders' books."--l. .] "ere long maister edmunds beginneth againe his exorcismes, wherein he had not proceeded farre, but up cometh another spirit singing most filthy and baudy songs: every word almost that he spake was nothing but ribaldry. they that were present with one voyce affirmed that devill to be the author of luxury.[ ] [footnote : "wine loved i deeply; dice dearly; and in women out-paramoured the turk."--l. .] "envy was described by disdainful looks and contemptuous speeches; wrath, by furious gestures, and talke as though he would have fought;[ ] gluttony, by vomiting;[ ] and sloth,[ ] by gasping and snorting, as though he had been asleepe."[ ] [footnote : "dog in madness, lion in prey."--l. .] [footnote : "wolf in greediness."--ibid.] [footnote : "hog in sloth."--l. .] [footnote : harsnet, p. .] a sort of prayer-meeting was then held for the relief of the distressed youth: "whereupon the spirit of pride departed in the forme of a peacocke; the spirit of sloth in the likenesse of an asse; the spirit of envy in the similitude of a dog; the spirit of gluttony in the forme of a wolfe."[ ] [footnote : the words, "hog in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey," are clearly an imperfect reminiscence of this part of the transaction.] there is in another part of "king lear" a further reference to the incidents attendant upon these exorcisms edgar says,[ ] "the foul fiend haunts poor tom in the voice of a nightingale." this seems to refer to the following incident related by friswood williams:-- "there was also another strange thing happened at denham about a bird. mistris peckham had a nightingale, which she kept in a cage, wherein maister dibdale took great delight, and would often be playing with it. this nightingale was one night conveyed out of the cage, and being next morning diligently sought for, could not be heard of, till maister mainie's devil, in one of his fits (as it was pretended), said that the wicked spirit which was in this examinate's sister[ ] had taken the bird out of the cage, and killed it in despite of maister dibdale."[ ] [footnote : act iii. sc. vi. l. .] [footnote : sara williams.] [footnote : harsnet, p. .] . the treatment to which, in consequence of his belief in possession, unfortunate persons like mainy and sommers, who were probably only suffering from some harmless form of mental disease, were subjected, was hardly calculated to effect a cure. the most ignorant quack was considered perfectly competent to deal with cases which, in reality, require the most delicate and judicious management, combined with the profoundest physiological, as well as psychological, knowledge. the ordinary method of dealing with these lunatics was as simple as it was irritating. bonds and confinement in a darkened room were the specifics; and the monotony of this treatment was relieved by occasional visits from the sage who had charge of the case, to mumble a prayer or mutter an exorcism. another popular but unpleasant cure was by flagellation; so that romeo's "not mad, but bound more than a madman is, shut up in prison, kept without my food, whipped and tormented,"[ ] if an exaggerated description of his own mental condition is in itself no inflated metaphor. [footnote : i. ii. .] . shakspere, in "the comedy of errors," and indirectly also in "twelfth night," has given us intentionally ridiculous illustrations of scenes which he had not improbably witnessed, in the country at any rate, and which bring vividly before us the absurdity of the methods of diagnosis and treatment usually adopted:-- _courtesan._ how say you now? is not your husband mad? _adriana._ his incivility confirms no less. good doctor pinch, you are a conjurer; establish him in his true sense again, and i will please you what you will demand. _luciana._ alas! how fiery and how sharp he looks! _courtesan._ mark how he trembles in his extasy! _pinch._ give me your hand, and let me feel your pulse.[ ] _ant. e._ there is my hand, and let it feel your ear. _pinch._ i charge thee, satan, housed within this man, to yield possession to my holy prayers, and to thy state of darkness his thee straight; i conjure thee by all the saints in heaven. _ant. e._ peace, doting wizard, peace; i am not mad. _pinch._ o that thou wert not, poor distressed soul![ ] after some further business, pinch pronounces his opinion: "mistress, both man and master are possessed; i know it by their pale and deadly looks: they must be bound, and laid in some dark room."[ ] but "good doctor pinch" seems to have been mild even to feebleness in his conjuration; many of his brethren in art had much more effective formulae. it seems that devils were peculiarly sensitive to any opprobrious epithets that chanced to be bestowed upon them. the skilful exorcist took advantage of this weakness, and, if he could only manage to keep up a flow of uncomplimentary remarks sufficiently long and offensive, the unfortunate spirit became embarrassed, restless, agitated, and finally took to flight. here is a specimen of the "nicknames" which had so potent an effect, if harsnet is to be credited:-- "heare therefore, thou senceless false lewd spirit, maister of devils, miserable creature, tempter of men, deceaver of bad angels, captaine of heretiques, father of lyes, fatuous bestial ninnie, drunkard, infernal theefe, wicked serpent, ravening woolfe, leane hunger-bitten impure sow, seely beast, truculent beast, cruel beast, bloody beast, beast of all blasts, the most bestiall acherontall spirit, smoakie spirit, tartareus spirit!"[ ] whether this objurgation terminates from loss of breath on the part of the conjurer, or the precipitate departure of the spirit addressed, it is impossible to say; it is difficult to imagine any logical reason for its conclusion. [footnote : the cessation of the pulse was one of the symptoms of possession. see the case of sommers, tryal of maister darrell, .] [footnote : iv. iv. , .] [footnote : ibid. .] [footnote : harsnet, p. .] . occasionally other, and sometimes more elaborate, methods of exorcism than those mentioned by romeo were adopted, especially when the operation was conducted for the purpose of bringing into prominence some great religious truth. the more evangelical of the operators adopted the plan of lying on the top of their patients, "after the manner of elias and pawle."[ ] but the catholic exorcists invented and carried to perfection the greatest refinement in the art. the patient, seated in a "holy chair," specially sanctified for the occasion, was compelled to drink about a pint of a compound of sack and salad oil; after which refreshment a pan of burning brimstone was held under his nose, until his face was blackened by the smoke.[ ] all this while the officiating priest kept up his invocation of the fiends in the manner illustrated above; and, under such circumstances, it is extremely doubtful whether the most determined character would not be prepared to see somewhat unusual phenomena for the sake of a short respite. [footnote : the tryall of maister darrell, , p. .] [footnote : harsnet, p. .] . another remarkable method of exorcism was a process termed "firing out" the fiend.[ ] the holy flame of piety resident in the priest was so terrible to the evil spirit, that the mere contact of the holy hand with that part of the body of the afflicted person in which he was resident was enough to make him shrink away into some more distant portion; so, by a judicious application of the hand, the exorcist could drive the devil into some limb, from which escape into the body was impossible, and the evil spirit, driven to the extremity, was obliged to depart, defeated and disgraced.[ ] this influence could be exerted, however, without actual corporal contact, as the following quaint extract from harsnet's book will show:-- "some punie rash devil doth stay till the holy priest be come somewhat neare, as into the chamber where the demoniacke doth abide, purposing, as it seemes, to try a pluck with the priest; and then his hart sodainly failing him (as demas, when he saw his friend chinias approach), cries out that he is tormented with the presence of the priest, and so is fierd out of his hold."[ ] [footnote : this expression occurs in sonnet cxliv., and evidently with the meaning here explained; only the bad angel is supposed to fire out the good one.] [footnote : harsnet, pp. , , .] [footnote : ibid. p. .] . the more violent or uncommon of the bodily diseases were, as the quotation from cotta's book shows[ ], attributed to the same diabolic source. in an era when the most profound ignorance prevailed with regard to the simplest laws of health; when the commoner diseases were considered as god's punishment for sin, and not attributable to natural causes; when so eminent a divine as bishop hooper could declare that "the air, the water, and the earth have no poison in themselves to hurt their lord and master man,"[ ] unless man first poisoned himself with sin; and when, in consequence of this ignorance and this false philosophy, and the inevitable neglect attendant upon them, those fearful plagues known as "the black death" could, almost without notice, sweep down upon a country, and decimate its inhabitants--it is not wonderful that these terrible scourges were attributed to the malevolence of the evil one. [footnote : see §§ , .] [footnote : i hooper, p. . parker society.] . but it is curious to notice that, although possessing such terrible powers over the bodies and minds of mortals, devils were not believed to be potent enough to destroy the lives of the persons they persecuted unless they could persuade their victims to renounce god. this theory probably sprang out of the limitation imposed by the almighty upon the power of satan during his temptation of job, and the advice given to the sufferer by his wife, "curse god, and die." hence, when evil spirits began their assaults upon a man, one of their first endeavours was to induce him to do some act that would be equivalent to such a renunciation. sometimes this was a bond assigning the victim's soul to the evil one in consideration of certain worldly advantages; sometimes a formal denial of his baptism; sometimes a deed that drives away the guardian angel from his side, and leaves the devil's influence uncounteracted. in "the witch of edmonton,"[ ] the first act that mother sawyer demands her familiar to perform after she has struck her bargain, is to kill her enemy banks; and the fiend has reluctantly to declare that he cannot do so unless by good fortune he could happen to catch him cursing. both harpax[ ] and mephistophiles[ ] suggest to their victims that they have power to destroy their enemies, but neither of them is able to exercise it. faust can torment, but not kill, his would-be murderers; and springius and hircius are powerless to take dorothea's life. in the latter case it is distinctly the protection of the guardian angel that limits the diabolic power; so it is not unnatural that gratiano should think the cursing of his better angel from his side the "most desperate turn" that poor old brabantio could have done himself, had he been living to hear of his daughter's cruel death.[ ] it is next to impossible for people in the present day to have any idea what a consolation this belief in a good attendant spirit, specially appointed to guard weak mortals through life, to ward off evils, and guide to eternal safety, must have been in a time when, according to the current belief, any person, however blameless, however holy, was liable at any moment to be possessed by a devil, or harried and tortured by a witch. [footnote : act ii. sc. i.] [footnote : the virgin martyr, act iii. sc. iii.] [footnote : dr. faustus, act i. sc. iii.] [footnote : othello, act v. sc. ii. .] . this leads by a natural sequence to the consideration of another and more insidious form of attack upon mankind adopted by the evil spirits. possession and obsession were methods of assault adopted against the will of the afflicted person, and hardly to be avoided by him without the supernatural intervention of the church. the practice of witchcraft and magic involved the absolute and voluntary barter of body and soul to the evil one, for the purpose of obtaining a few short years of superhuman power, to be employed for the gratification of the culprit's avarice, ambition, or desire for revenge. . in the strange history of that most inexplicable mental disease, the witchcraft epidemic, as it has been justly called by a high authority on such matters,[ ] we moderns are, by the nature of our education and prejudices, completely incapacitated for sympathizing with either the persecutors or their victims. we are at a loss to understand how clear-sighted and upright men, like sir matthew hale, could consent to become parties to a relentless persecution to the death of poor helpless beings whose chief crime, in most cases, was, that they had suffered starvation both in body and in mind. we cannot understand it, because none of us believe in the existence of evil spirits. none; for although there are still a few persons who nominally hold to the ancient faith, as they do to many other respectable but effete traditions, yet they would be at a loss for a reason for the faith that is in them, should they chance to be asked for one; and not one of them would be prepared to make the smallest material sacrifice for the sake of it. it is true that the existence of evil spirits recently received a tardy and somewhat hesitating recognition in our ecclesiastical courts,[ ] which at first authoritatively declared that a denial of the existence of the personality of the devil constituted a man a notorious evil liver, and depraver of the book of common prayer;[ ] but this was promptly reversed by the judicial committee of the privy council, under the auspices of two low church law lords and two archbishops, with the very vague proviso that "they do not mean to decide that those doctrines are otherwise than inconsistent with the formularities of the church of england;"[ ] yet the very contempt with which these portentous declarations of church law have been received shows how great has been the fall of the once almost omnipotent minister of evil. the ancient satan does indeed exist in some few formularies, but in such a washed-out and flimsy condition as to be the reverse of conspicuous. all that remains of him and of his subordinate legions is the ineffectual ghost of a departed creed, for the resuscitation of which no man will move a finger. [footnote : see dr. carpenter in _frazer_ for november, .] [footnote : see jenkins v. cooke, law reports, admiralty and ecclesiastical cases, vol. iv. p. , et seq.] [footnote : ibid. p. , sir r. phillimore.] [footnote : law reports, i probate division, p. .] . it is perfectly impossible for us, therefore, to comprehend, although by an effort we may perhaps bring ourselves to imagine, the horror and loathing with which good men, entirely believing in the existence and omnipresence of countless legions of evil spirits, able and anxious to perpetrate the mischiefs that it has been the object of these pages in some part to describe, would regard those who, for their own selfish gratification, deliberately surrendered their hopes of eternal happiness in exchange for an alliance with the devils, which would render these ten times more capable than before of working their wicked wills. to men believing this, no punishment could seem too sudden or too terrible for such offenders against religion and society, and no means of possible detection too slight or far-fetched to be neglected; indeed, it might reasonably appear to them better that many innocent persons should perish, with the assurance of future reward for their undeserved sufferings, than that a single guilty one should escape undetected, and become the medium by which the devil might destroy more souls. . but the persecuted, far more than the persecutors, deserve our sympathy, although they rarely obtain it. it is frequently asserted that the absolute truth of a doctrine is the only support that will enable its adherents successfully to weather the storms of persecution. those who assent to this proposition must be prepared to find a large amount of truth in the beliefs known to us under the name of witchcraft, if the position is to be successfully maintained; for never was any sect persecuted more systematically, or with more relentlessness, than these little-offending heretics. protestants and catholics, anglicans and calvinists, so ready at all times to commit one another to the flames and to the headsman, found in this matter common ground, upon which all could heartily unite for the grand purpose of extirpating error. when, out of the quiet of our own times, we look back upon the terrors of the tower, and the smoke and glare of smithfield, we think with mingled pity and admiration of those brave men and women who, in the sixteenth century, enriched with their blood and ashes the soil from whence was to spring our political and religious freedom. but no whit of admiration, hardly a glimmer of pity, is even casually evinced for those poor creatures who, neglected, despised, and abhorred, were, at the same time, dying the same agonizing death, and passing through the torment of the flames to that "something after death--the undiscovered country," without the sweet assurance which sustained their better-remembered fellow-sufferers, that beyond the martyr's cross was waiting the martyr's crown. no such hope supported those who were condemned to die for the crime of witchcraft: their anticipations of the future were as dreary as their memories of the past, and no friendly voice was raised, or hand stretched out, to encourage or console them during that last sad journey. their hope of mercy from man was small--strangulation before the application of the fire, instead of the more lingering and painful death at most;--their hope of mercy from heaven, nothing; yet, under these circumstances, the most auspicious perhaps that could be imagined for the extirpation of a heretical belief, persecution failed to effect its object. the more the government burnt the witches, the more the crime of witchcraft spread; and it was not until an attitude of contemptuous toleration was adopted towards the culprits that the belief died down, gradually but surely, not on account of the conclusiveness of the arguments directed against it, but from its own inherent lack of vitality.[ ] [footnote : see mr. lecky's elaborate and interesting description of the demise of the belief in the first chapter of his history of the rise of rationalism in europe.] . the history and phenomena of witchcraft have been so admirably treated by more than one modern investigator, as to render it unnecessary to deal exhaustively with a subject which presents such a vast amount of material for arrangement and comment. the scope of the following remarks will therefore be limited to a consideration of such features of the subject as appear to throw light upon the supernaturalism in "macbeth." this consideration will be carried out with some minuteness, as certain modern critics, importing mythological learning that is the outcome of comparatively recent investigation into the interpretation of the text, have declared that the three sisters who play such an important part in that drama are not witches at all, but are, or are intimately allied to, the norns or fates of scandinavian paganism. it will be the object of the following pages to illustrate the contemporary belief concerning witches and their powers, by showing that nearly every characteristic point attributed to the sisters has its counterpart in contemporary witch-lore; that some of the allusions, indeed, bear so strong a resemblance to certain events that had transpired not many years before "macbeth" was written, that it is not improbable that shakspere was alluding to them in much the same off-hand, cursory manner as he did to the mainy incident when writing "king lear." . the first critic whose comments upon this subject call for notice is the eminent gervinus. in evident ignorance of the history of witchcraft, he says, "in the witches shakspere has made use of the popular belief in evil geniuses and in adverse persecutors of mankind, and has produced a similar but darker race of beings, just as he made use of the belief in fairies in the 'midsummer night's dream.' this creation is less attractive and complete, but not less masterly. the poet, in the text of the play itself, calls these beings witches only derogatorily; they call themselves weird sisters; the fates bore this denomination, and the sisters remind us indeed of the northern fates or valkyries. they appear wild and weather-beaten in exterior and attire, common in speech, ignoble, half-human creatures, ugly as the evil one, and in like manner old, and of neither sex. they are guided by more powerful masters, their work entirely springs from delight in evil, and they are wholly devoid of human sympathies.... they are simply the embodiment of inward temptation; they come in storm and vanish in air, like corporeal impulses, which, originating in the blood, cast up bubbles of sin and ambition in the soul; they are weird sisters only in the sense in which men carry their own fates within their bosoms."[ ] this criticism is so entirely subjective and unsupported by evidence that it is difficult to deal satisfactorily with it. it will be shown hereafter that this description does not apply in the least to the scandinavian norns, while, so far as it is true to shakspere's text, it does not clash with contemporary records of the appearance and actions of witches. [footnote : shakspere commentaries, translated by f.e. bunnert, p. .] . the next writer to bring forward a view of this character was the rev. f.g. fleay, the well-known shakspere critic, whose ingenious efforts in iconoclasm cause a curious alternation of feeling between admiration and amazement. his argument is unfortunately mixed up with a question of textual criticism; for he rejects certain scenes in the play as the work of the inferior dramatist middleton.[ ] the question relating to the text will only be noticed so far as it is inextricably involved with the argument respecting the nature of the weird sisters. mr. fleay's position is, shortly, this. he thinks that shakspere's play commenced with the entrance of macbeth and banquo in the third scene of the first act, and that the weird sisters who subsequently take part in that scene are norns, not witches; and that in the first scene of the fourth act, shakspere discarded the norns, and introduced three entirely new characters, who were intended to be genuine witches. [footnote : of the witch scenes mr. fleay rejects act i. sc. i., and sc. iii. down to l. , and act iii. sc. v.] . the evidence which can be produced in support of this theory, apart from question of style and probability, is threefold. the first proof is derived from a manuscript entitled "the booke of plaies and notes thereof, for common pollicie," written by a somewhat famous magician-doctor, simon forman, who was implicated in the murder of sir thomas overbury. he says, "in 'macbeth,' at the globe, , the th april, saturday, there was to be observed first how macbeth and banquo, two noblemen of scotland, riding through a wood, there stood before them three women fairies, or nymphs, and saluted macbeth, saying three times unto him, 'hail, macbeth, king of codor, for thou shalt be a king, but thou shalt beget no kings,'" etc.[ ] this, if forman's account held together decently in other respects, would be strong, although not conclusive, evidence in favour of the theory; but the whole note is so full of inconsistencies and misstatements, that it is not unfair to conclude, either that the writer was not paying marvellous attention to the entertainment he professed to describe, or that the player's copy differed in many essential points from the present text. not the least conspicuous of these inconsistencies is the account of the sisters' greeting of macbeth just quoted. subsequently forman narrates that duncan created macbeth prince of cumberland; and that "when macbeth had murdered the king, the blood on his hands could not be washed off by any means, nor from his wife's hands, which handled the bloody daggers in hiding them, by which means they became both much amazed and affronted." such a loose narration cannot be relied upon if the text in question contains any evidence at all rebutting the conclusion that the sisters are intended to be "women fairies, or nymphs." [footnote : see furness, variorum, p. .] . the second piece of evidence is the story of macbeth as it is narrated by holinshed, from which shakspere derived his material. in that account we read that "it fortuned as makbeth and banquho journied toward fores, where the king then laie, they went sporting by the waie togither without other companie, saue onlie themselues, passing thorough the woods and fields, when suddenlie in the middest of a laund there met them three women in strange and wild apparell, resembling creatures of elder world, whome when they attentivelie beheld, woondering much at the sight, the first of them spake and said; 'all haile, makbeth, thane of glammis' (for he had latelie entered into that dignitie and office by the death of his father sinell). the second of them said; 'haile, makbeth, thane of cawder.' but the third said; 'all haile, makbeth, that heereafter shall be king of scotland.' ... afterwards the common opinion was that these women were either the weird sisters, that is (as ye would say) the goddesses of destinie, or else some nymphs or feiries, indued with knowledge of prophesie by their necromanticall science, because everiething came to passe as they had spoken."[ ] this is all that is heard of these "goddesses of destinie" in holinshed's narrative. macbeth is warned to "beware macduff"[ ] by "certeine wizzards, in whose words he put great confidence;" and the false promises were made to him by "a certeine witch, whome he had in great trust, (who) had told him that he should neuer be slaine with man borne of anie woman, nor vanquished till the wood of bernane came to the castell of dunsinane."[ ] [footnote : holinshed, scotland, p. , c. , l. .] [footnote : macbeth, iv. l. . holinshed, p. , c. , l. .] [footnote : ibid. l. .] . in this account we find that the supernatural communications adopted by shakspere were derived from three sources; and the contention is that he has retained two of them--the "goddesses of destinie" and the witches; and the evidence of this retention is the third proof relied on, namely, that the stage direction in the first folio, act iv. sc. i., is, "enter hecate and the _other_ three witches," when three characters supposed to be witches are already upon the scene. holinshed's narrative makes it clear that the idea of the "goddesses of destinie" was distinctly suggested to shakspere's mind, as well as that of the witches, as the mediums of supernatural influence. the question is, did he retain both, or did he reject one and retain the other? it can scarcely be doubted that one such influence running through the play would conduce to harmony and unity of idea; and as shakspere, not a servile follower of his source in any case, has interwoven in "macbeth" the totally distinct narrative of the murder of king duffe,[ ] it is hardly to be supposed that he would scruple to blend these two different sets of characters if any advantage were to be gained by so doing. as to the stage direction in the first folio, it is difficult to see what it would prove, even supposing that the folio were the most scrupulous piece of editorial work that had ever been effected. it presupposes that the "weird sisters" are on the stage as well as the witches. but it is perfectly clear that the witches continue the dialogue; so the other more powerful beings must be supposed to be standing silent in the background--a suggestion so monstrous that it is hardly necessary to refer to the slovenliness of the folio stage directions to show how unsatisfactory an argument based upon one of them must be. [footnote : ibid. p. . "a sort of witches dwelling in a towne of murreyland called fores" (c. , l. ) were prominent in this account.] . the evidence of forman and holinshed has been stated fully, in order that the reader may be in possession of all the materials that may be necessary for forming an accurate judgment upon the point in question; but it seems to be less relied upon than the supposition that the appearance and powers of the beings in the admittedly genuine part of the third scene of the first act are not those formerly attributed to witches, and that shakspere, having once decided to represent norns, would never have degraded them "to three old women, who are called by paddock and graymalkin, sail in sieves, kill swine, serve hecate, and deal in all the common charms, illusions, and incantations of vulgar witches. the three who 'look not like the inhabitants o' th' earth, and yet are on't;' they who can 'look into the seeds of time, and say which grain will grow;' they who seem corporal, but melt into the air, like bubbles of the earth; the weyward sisters, who make themselves air, and have in them more than mortal knowledge, are not beings of this stamp."[ ] [footnote : new shakspere society transactions, vol. i. p. ; fleay's shakspere manual, p. .] . now, there is a great mass of contemporary evidence to show that these supposed characteristics of the norns are, in fact, some of the chief attributes of the witches of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. if this be so--if it can be proved that the supposed "goddesses of destinie" of the play in reality possess no higher powers than could be acquired by ordinary communication with evil spirits, then no weight must be attached to the vague stage direction in the folio, occurring as it does in a volume notorious for the extreme carelessness with which it was produced; and it must be admitted that the "goddesses of destinie" of holinshed were sacrificed for the sake of the witches. if, in addition to this, it can be shown that there was a very satisfactory reason why the witches should have been chosen as the representatives of the evil influence instead of the norns, the argument will be as complete as it is possible to make it. . but before proceeding to examine the contemporary evidence, it is necessary, in order to obtain a complete conception of the mythological view of the weird sisters, to notice a piece of criticism that is at once an expansion of, and a variation upon, the theory just stated.[ ] it is suggested that the sisters of "macbeth" are but three in number, but that shakspere drew upon scandinavian mythology for a portion of the material he used in constructing these characters, and that he derived the rest from the traditions of contemporary witchcraft; in fact, that the "sisters" are hybrids between norns and witches. the supposed proof of this is that each sister exercises the special function of one of the norns. "the third is the special prophetess, whilst the first takes cognizance of the past, and the second of the present, in affairs connected with humanity. these are the tasks of urda, verdandi, and skulda. the first begins by asking, 'when shall we three meet again?' the second decides the time: 'when the battle's lost or won.' the third, the future prophesies: 'that will be ere set of sun.' the first again asks, 'where?' the second decides: 'upon the heath.' the third, the future prophesies: 'there to meet with macbeth.'" but their _rôle_ is most clearly brought out in the famous "hails":-- _ st. urda._ [past.] all hail, macbeth! hail to thee, thane of glamis! _ nd. verdandi._ [present.] all hail, macbeth! hail to thee, thane of cawdor! _ rd. skulda._ all hail, macbeth! thou shalt be king hereafter.[ ] this sequence is supposed to be retained in other of the sisters' speeches; but a perusal of these will soon show that it is only in the second of the above quotations that it is recognizable with any definiteness; and this, it must be remembered, is an almost verbal transcript from holinshed, and not an original conception of shakspere's, who might feel himself quite justified in changing the characters of the speakers, while retaining their utterances. in addition to this, the natural sequence is in many cases utterly and unnecessarily violated; as, for instance, in act i. sc. iii., where urda, who should be solely occupied with past matters, predicts, with extreme minuteness, the results that are to follow from her projected voyage to aleppo, and that without any expression of resentment, but rather with promise of assistance, from skulda, whose province she is thus invading. [footnote : in a letter to _the academy_, th february, , signed "charlotte carmichael."] [footnote : i have taken the liberty of printing this quotation as it stands in the text. the writer in _the academy_ has effected a rearrangement of the dialogue by importing what might be macbeth's replies to the three sisters from his speech beginning at l. , and alternating them with the different "hails," which, in addition, are not correctly quoted--for what purpose it is difficult to see. it may be added here that in a subsequent number of _the academy_, a long letter upon the same subject appeared from mr. karl blind, which seems to prove little except the author's erudition. he assumes the teutonic origin of the sisters throughout, and, consequently, adduces little evidence in favour of the theory. one of his points is the derivation of the word "weird" or "wayward," which, as will be shown subsequently, was applied to witches. another point is, that the witch scenes savour strongly of the staff-rime of old german poetry. it is interesting to find two upholders of the norn-theory relying mainly for proof of their position upon a scene (act i. sc. i.) which mr fleay says that the very statement of this theory (p. ) must brand as spurious. the question of the sisters' beards too, regarding which mr. blind brings somewhat far-fetched evidence, is, i think, more satisfactorily settled by the quotations in the text.] . but this latter piece of criticism seems open to one grave objection to which the former is not liable. mr. fleay separates the portions of the play which are undoubtedly to be assigned to witches from the parts he gives to his norns, and attributes them to different characters; the other mixes up the witch and norn elements in one confused mass. the earlier critic saw the absurdity of such a supposition when he wrote: "shakspere may have raised the wizard and witches of the latter parts of holinshed to the weird sisters of the former parts, but the converse process is impossible."[ ] is it conceivable that shakspere, who, as most people admit, was a man of some poetic feeling, being in possession of the beautiful norn-legend--the silent fate-goddesses sitting at the foot of igdrasil, the mysterious tree of human existence, and watering its roots with water from the sacred spring--could, ruthlessly and without cause, mar the charm of the legend by the gratuitous introduction of the gross and primarily unpoetical details incident to the practice of witchcraft? no man with a glimmer of poetry in his soul will imagine it for a moment. the separation of characters is more credible than this; but if that theory can be shown to be unfounded, there is no improbability in supposing that shakspere, finding that the question of witchcraft was, in consequence of events that had taken place not long before the time of the production of "macbeth," absorbing the attention of all men, from king to peasant, should set himself to deal with such a popular subject, and, by the magic of his art, so raise it out of its degradation into the region of poetry, that men should wonder and say, "can this be witchcraft indeed?" [footnote : shakspere manual, p. .] . in comparing the evidence to be deduced from the contemporary records of witchcraft with the sayings and doings of the sisters in "macbeth," those parts of the play will first be dealt with upon which no doubt as to their genuineness has ever been cast, and which are asserted to be solely applicable to norns. if it can be shown that these describe witches rather than norns, the position that shakspere intentionally substituted witches for the "goddesses of destinie" mentioned in his authority is practically unassailable. first, then, it is asserted that the description of the appearance of the sisters given by banquo applies to norns rather than witches-- "they look not like the inhabitants o' th' earth, and yet are on't." this question of applicability, however, must not be decided by the consideration of a single sentence, but of the whole passage from which it is extracted; and, whilst considering it, it should be carefully borne in mind that it occurs immediately before those lines which are chiefly relied upon as proving the identity of the sisters with urda, verdandi, and skulda. banquo, on seeing the sisters, says-- "what are these, so withered and so wild in their attire, that look not like the inhabitants o' th' earth, and yet are on't? live you, or are you aught that man may question? you seem to understand me, by each at once her chappy finger laying upon her skinny lips: you should be women, and yet your beards forbid me to interpret that you are so." it is in the first moment of surprise that the sisters, appearing so suddenly, seem to banquo unlike the inhabitants of this earth. when he recovers from the shock and is capable of deliberate criticism, he sees chappy fingers, skinny lips--in fact, nothing to distinguish them from poverty-stricken, ugly old women but their beards. a more accurate poetical counterpart to the prose descriptions given by contemporary writers of the appearance of the poor creatures who were charged with the crime of witchcraft could hardly have been penned. scot, for instance, says, "they are women which commonly be old, lame, bleare-eied, pale, fowle, and full of wrinkles.... they are leane and deformed, showing melancholie in their faces;"[ ] and harsnet describes a witch as "an old weather-beaten crone, having her chin and knees meeting for age, walking like a bow, leaning on a staff, hollow-eyed, untoothed, furrowed, having her lips trembling with palsy, going mumbling in the streets; one that hath forgotten her pater-noster, yet hath a shrewd tongue to call a drab a drab."[ ] it must be remembered that these accounts are by two sceptics, who saw nothing in the witches but poor, degraded old women. in a description which assumes their supernatural power such minute details would not be possible; yet there is quite enough in banquo's description to suggest neglect, squalor, and misery. but if this were not so, there is one feature in the description of the sisters that would settle the question once and for ever. the beard was in elizabethan times the recognized characteristic of the witch. in one old play it is said, "the women that come to us for disguises must wear beards, and that's to say a token of a witch;"[ ] and in another, "some women have beards; marry, they are half witches;"[ ] and sir hugh evans gives decisive testimony to the fact when he says of the disguised falstaff, "by yea and no, i think, the 'oman is a witch indeed: i like not when a 'oman has a great peard; i spy a great peard under her muffler."[ ] [footnote : discoverie, book i. ch. , p. .] [footnote : harsnet, declaration, p. .] [footnote : honest man's fortune, ii. i. furness, variorum, p. .] [footnote : dekker's honest whore, sc. x. l. .] [footnote : merry wives of windsor, act iv. sc. ii.] . every item of banquo's description indicates that he is speaking of witches; nothing in it is incompatible with that supposition. will it apply with equal force to norns? it can hardly be that these mysterious mythical beings, who exercise an incomprehensible yet powerful influence over human destiny, could be described with any propriety in terms so revolting. a veil of wild, weird grandeur might be thrown around them; but can it be supposed that shakspere would degrade them by representing them with chappy fingers, skinny lips, and beards? it is particularly to be noticed, too, that although in this passage he is making an almost verbal transcript from holinshed, these details are interpolated without the authority of the chronicle. let it be supposed, for an instant, that the text ran thus-- _banquo._ ... what are these so withered and so wild in their attire,[ ] that look not like the inhabitants o' th' earth, and yet are on't?[ ] live you, or are you ought that man may question?[ ] _macbeth._ speak if you can, what are you? _ st witch._ all hail, macbeth! hail to thee, thane of glamis![ ] _ nd witch._ all hail, macbeth! hail to thee, thane of cawdor![ ] _ rd witch._ all hail, macbeth! thou shall be king hereafter.[ ] this is so accurate a dramatization of the parallel passage in holinshed, and so entire in itself, that there is some temptation to ask whether it was not so written at first, and the interpolated lines subsequently inserted by the author. whether this be so or not, the question must be put--why, in such a passage, did shakspere insert three lines of most striking description of the appearance of witches? can any other reason be suggested than that he had made up his mind to replace the "goddesses of destinie" by the witches, and had determined that there should be no possibility of any doubt arising about it? [footnote : three women in strange and wild apparel,] [footnote : resembling creatures of elder world,] [footnote : whome when they attentivelie beheld, woondering much at the sight, the first of them spake and said;] [footnote : 'all haile, makbeth, thane of glammis' (for he had latelie entered into that dignitie and office by the death of his father sinell).] [footnote : the second of them said; 'haile, makbeth, thane of cawder.'] [footnote : but the third said; 'all haile, makbeth, that heereafter shalt be king of scotland.'] . the next objection is, that the sisters exercise powers that witches did not possess. they can "look into the seeds of time, and say which grain will grow, and which will not." in other words, they foretell future events, which witches could not do. but this is not the fact. the recorded witch trials teem with charges of having prophesied what things were about to happen; no charge is more common. the following, quoted by charles knight in his biography of shakspere, might almost have suggested the simile in the last-mentioned lines. johnnet wischert is "indicted for passing to the green growing corn in may, twenty-two years since or thereby, sitting thereupon tymous in the morning before the sun-rising, and being there found and demanded what she was doing, thou[ ] answered, i shall tell thee; i have been peeling the blades of the corn. i find it will be a dear year, the blade of the corn grows withersones [contrary to the course of the sun], and when it grows sonegatis about [with the course of the sun] it will be good cheap year."[ ] the following is another apt illustration of the power, which has been translated from the unwieldy lowland scotch account of the trial of bessie roy in . the dittay charged her thus: "you are indicted and accused that whereas, when you were dwelling with william king in barra, about twelve years ago, or thereabouts, and having gone into the field to pluck lint with other women, in their presence made a compass in the earth, and a hole in the midst thereof; and afterwards, by thy conjurations thou causedst a great worm to come up first out of the said hole, and creep over the compass; and next a little worm came forth, which crept over also; and last [thou] causedst a great worm to come forth, which could not pass over the compass, but fell down and died. which enchantment and witchcraft thou interpretedst in this form: that the first great worm that crept over the compass was the goodman william king, who should live; and the little worm was a child in the goodwife's womb, who was unknown to any one to be with child, and that the child should live; and, thirdly, the last great worm thou interpretedst to be the goodwife, who should die: _which came to pass after thy speaking_."[ ] surely there could hardly be plainer instances of looking "into the seeds of time, and saying which grain will grow, and which will not," than these. [footnote : sic.] [footnote : p. .] [footnote : pitcairn, i. ii. . cf. also ibid. pp. , , and , where the crime is described as "foreknowledge."] . perhaps this is the most convenient place for pointing out the full meaning of the first scene of "macbeth," and its necessary connection with the rest of the play. it is, in fact, the fag-end of a witches' sabbath, which, if fully represented, would bear a strong resemblance to the scene at the commencement of the fourth act. but a long scene on such a subject would be tedious and unmeaning at the commencement of the play. the audience is therefore left to assume that the witches have met, performed their conjurations, obtained from the evil spirits the information concerning macbeth's career that they desired to obtain, and perhaps have been commanded by the fiends to perform the mission they subsequently carry through. all that is needed for the dramatic effect is a slight hint of probable diabolical interference, and that macbeth is to be the special object of it; and this is done in as artistic a manner as is perhaps imaginable. in the first scene they obtain their information; in the second they utter their prediction. every minute detail of these scenes is based upon the broad, recognized facts of witchcraft. . it is also suggested that the power of vanishing from the sight possessed by the sisters--the power to make themselves air--was not characteristic of witches. but this is another assertion that would not have been made, had the authorities upon the subject been investigated with only slight attention. no feature of the crime of witchcraft is better attested than this; and the modern witch of story-books is still represented as riding on a broomstick--a relic of the enchanted rod with which the devil used to provide his worshippers, upon which to come to his sabbaths.[ ] one of the charges in the indictment against the notorious dr. fian ran thus: "fylit for suffering himself to be careit to north berwik kirk, as if he had bene souchand athoirt [whizzing above] the eird."[ ] most effectual ointments were prepared for effecting this method of locomotion, which have been recorded, and are given below[ ] as an illustration of the wild kind of recipes which shakspere rendered more grim in his caldron scene. the efficacy of these ointments is well illustrated by a story narrated by reginald scot, which unfortunately, on account of certain incidents, cannot be given in his own terse words. the hero of it happened to be staying temporarily with a friend, and on one occasion found her rubbing her limbs with a certain preparation, and mumbling the while. after a time she vanished out of his sight; and he, being curious to investigate the affair, rubbed himself with the remaining ointment, and almost immediately he found himself transported a long distance through the air, and deposited right in the very midst of a witches' sabbath. naturally alarmed, he cried out, "'in the name of god, what make i heere?' and upon those words the whole assemblie vanished awaie."[ ] [footnote : scot, book iii. ch. iii. p. .] [footnote : pitcairn, i. ii. . cf. also ibid. p. . scot, book iii. ch. vii. p. .] [footnote : "sundrie receipts and ointments made and used for the transportation of witches, and other miraculous effects. "rx. the fat of yoong children, & seeth it with water in a brazen vessell, reseruing the thickest of that which remaineth boiled in the bottome, which they laie up & keep untill occasion serveth to use it. they put hereinto eleoselinum, aconitum, frondes populeas, & soote." this is given almost verbatim in middleton's witch. "rx. sium, acarum vulgare, pentaphyllon, the bloud of a flittermouse, solanum somniferum, & oleum." it would seem that fern seed had the same virtue.--i hen. iv. ii. i.] [footnote : scot, book iii. ch. vi. p. .] . the only vestige of a difficulty, therefore, that remains is the use of the term "weird sisters" in describing the witches. it is perfectly clear that holinshed used these words as a sort of synonym for the "goddesses of destinie;" but with such a mass of evidence as has been produced to show that shakspere elected to introduce witches in the place of the norns, it surely would not be unwarrantable to suppose that he might retain this term as a poetical and not unsuitable description of the characters to whom it was applied. and this is the less improbable as it can be shown that both words were at times applied to witches. as the quotation given subsequently[ ] proves, the scotch witches were in the habit of speaking of the frequenters of a particular sabbath as "the sisters;" and in heywood's "witches of lancashire," one of the characters says about a certain act of supposed witchcraft, "i remember that some three months since i crossed a wayward woman; one that i now suspect."[ ] [footnote : § , p. .] [footnote : act v. sc. iii.] . here, then, in the very stronghold of the supposed proof of the norn-theory, it is possible to extract convincing evidence that the sisters are intended to be merely witches. it is not surprising that other portions of the play in which the sisters are mentioned should confirm this view. banquo, upon hearing the fulfilment of the prophecy of the second witch, clearly expresses his opinion of the origin of the "foreknowledge" he has received, in the exclamation, "what, can the devil speak true?" for the devil most emphatically spoke through the witches; but how could he in any sense be said to speak through norns? again, macbeth informs his wife that on his arrival at forres, he made inquiry into the amount of reliance that could be placed in the utterances of the witches, "and learned by the perfectest report that they had more in them than mortal knowledge."[ ] this would be possible enough if witches were the subjects of the investigation, for their chief title to authority would rest upon the general opinion current in the neighbourhood in which they dwelt; but how could such an inquiry be carried out successfully in the case of norns? it is noticeable, too, that macbeth knows exactly where to find the sisters when he wants them; and when he says-- "more shall they speak; for now i am bent to know, by the worst means, the worst,"[ ] he makes another clear allusion to the traffic of the witches with the devil. after the events recorded in act iv. sc. i., macbeth speaks of the prophecies upon which he relies as "the equivocation of the fiend,"[ ] and the prophets as "these juggling fiends;"[ ] and with reason--for he has seen and heard the very devils themselves, the masters of the witches and sources of all their evil power. every point in the play that bears upon the subject at all tends to show that shakspere intentionally replaced the "goddesses of destinie" by witches; and that the supposed norn origin of these characters is the result of a somewhat too great eagerness to unfold a novel and startling theory. [footnote : act i. sc. v. l. .] [footnote : mr. fleay avoids the difficulty created by this passage, which alludes to the witches as "the weird sisters," by supposing that these lines were interpolated by middleton--a method of criticism that hardly needs comment. act iii. sc. iv. l. .] [footnote : act v. sc. v. l. .] [footnote : ibid. sc. viii. l. .] . assuming, therefore, that the witch-nature of the sisters is conclusively proved, it now becomes necessary to support the assertion previously made, that good reason can be shown why shakspere should have elected to represent witches rather than norns. it is impossible to read "macbeth" without noticing the prominence given to the belief that witches had the power of creating storms and other atmospheric disturbances, and that they delighted in so doing. the sisters elect to meet in thunder, lightning, or rain. to them "fair is foul, and foul is fair," as they "hover through the fog and filthy air." the whole of the earlier part of the third scene of the first act is one blast of tempest with its attendant devastation. they can loose and bind the winds,[ ] cause vessels to be tempest-tossed at sea, and mutilate wrecked bodies.[ ] they describe themselves as "posters of the sea and land;"[ ] the heath they meet upon is blasted;[ ] and they vanish "as breath into the wind."[ ] macbeth conjures them to answer his questions thus:-- "though you untie the winds, and let them fight against the churches; though the yesty waves confound and swallow navigation up; though bladed corn be lodged, and trees blown down; though castles topple on their warders' heads; though palaces and pyramids do slope their heads to their foundations; though the treasure of nature's germens tumble all together, even till destruction sicken."[ ] [footnote : i. iii. , .] [footnote : act i. sc. iii. l. .] [footnote : ibid. l. .] [footnote : ibid. l. .] [footnote : ibid. ll. , .] [footnote : act iv. sc. i. ll. - .] . now, this command over the elements does not form at all a prominent feature in the english records of witchcraft. a few isolated charges of the kind may be found. in , for instance, a witch was burnt who confessed that she had caused all the tempests that had taken place in that year. scot, too, has a few short sentences upon this subject, but does not give it the slightest prominence.[ ] nor in the earlier scotch trials recorded by pitcairn does this charge appear amongst the accusations against the witches. it is exceedingly curious to notice the utter harmless nature of the charges brought against the earlier culprits; and how, as time went on and the panic increased, they gradually deepened in colour, until no act was too gross, too repulsive, or too ridiculously impossible to be excluded from the indictment. the following quotations from one of the earliest reported trials are given because they illustrate most forcibly the condition of the poor women who were supposed to be witches, and the real basis of fact upon which the belief in the crime subsequently built itself. [footnote : book iii. ch. , p. .] . bessie dunlop was tried for witchcraft in . one of the principal accusations against her was that she held intercourse with a devil who appeared to her in the shape of a neighbour of hers, one thom reed, who had recently died. being asked how and where she met thom reed, she said, "as she was gangand betwixt her own house and the yard of monkcastell, dryvand her ky to the pasture, and makand heavy sair dule with herself, gretand[ ] very fast for her cow that was dead, her husband and child that wer lyand sick in the land ill, and she new risen out of gissane,[ ] the aforesaid thom met her by the way, healsit[ ] her, and said, 'gude day, bessie,' and she said, 'god speed you, guidman.' 'sancta marie,' said he, 'bessie, why makes thow sa great dule and sair greting for ony wardlie thing?' she answered 'alas! have i not great cause to make great dule, for our gear is trakit,[ ] and my husband is on the point of deid, and one babie of my own will not live, and myself at ane weak point; have i not gude cause then to have ane sair hart?' but thom said, 'bessie, thou hast crabit[ ] god, and askit some thing you suld not have done; and tharefore i counsell thee to mend to him, for i tell thee thy barne sall die and the seik cow, or you come hame; and thy twa sheep shall die too; but thy husband shall mend, and shall be as hale and fair as ever he was.' and then i was something blyther, for he tauld me that my guidman would mend. then thom reed went away fra me in through the yard of monkcastell, and i thought that he gait in at ane narrower hole of the dyke nor anie erdlie man culd have gone throw, and swa i was something fleit."[ ] [footnote : weeping. i have only half translated this passage, for i feared to spoil the sad simplicity of it.] [footnote : child-bed.] [footnote : saluted.] [footnote : dwindled away.] [footnote : displeased.] [footnote : frightened.] this was the first time that thom appeared to her. on the third occasion he asked her "if she would not trow[ ] in him." she said "she would trow in ony bodye did her gude." then thom promised her much wealth if she would deny her christendom. she answered that "if she should be riven at horsis taillis, she suld never do that, but promised to be leal and trew to him in ony thing she could do," whereat he was angry. [footnote : trust.] on the fourth occasion, the poor woman fell further into sin, and accompanied thom to a fairy meeting. thom asked her to join the party; but she said "she saw na proffeit to gang thai kind of gaittis, unless she kend wherefor." thom offered the old inducement, wealth; but she replied that "she dwelt with her awin husband and bairnis," and could not leave them. and so thom began to be very crabit with her, and said, "if so she thought, she would get lytill gude of him." she was then demanded if she had ever asked any favour of thom for herself or any other person. she answered that "when sundrie persons came to her to seek help for their beast, their cow, or ewe, or for any barne that was tane away with ane evill blast of wind, or elf grippit, she gait and speirit[ ] at thom what myght help them; and thom would pull ane herb and gif her out of his awin hand, and bade her scheir[ ] the same with ony other kind of herbis, and oppin the beistes mouth, and put thame in, and the beist wald mend."[ ] [footnote : inquired.] [footnote : chop.] [footnote : pitcairn, i. ii. , et seq.] it seems hardly possible to believe that a story like this, which is half marred by the attempt to partially modernize its simple pathetic language, and which would probably bring a tear to the eye, if not a shilling from the pocket, of the most unsympathetic being of the present day, should be considered sufficient three hundred years ago, to convict the narrator of a crime worthy of death; yet so it was. this sad picture of the breakdown of a poor woman's intellect in the unequal struggle against poverty and sickness is only made visible to us by the light of the flames that, mercifully to her perhaps, took poor bessie dunlop away for ever from the sick husband, and weakly children, and the "ky," and the humble hovel where they all dwelt together, and from the daily, heart-rending, almost hopeless struggle to obtain enough food to keep life in the bodies of this miserable family. the historian--who makes it his chief anxiety to record, to the minutest and most irrelevant details, the deeds, noble or ignoble, of those who have managed to stamp their names upon the muster-roll of fame--turns carelessly or scornfully the page which contains such insignificant matter as this; but those who believe "that not a worm is cloven in vain; that not a moth with vain desire is shrivel'd in a fruitless fire, or but subserves another's gain," will hardly feel that poor bessie's life and death were entirely without their meaning. . as the trials for witchcraft increase, however, the details grow more and more revolting; and in the year we find a most extraordinary batch of cases--extraordinary for the monstrosity of the charges contained in them, and also for the fact that this feature, so insisted upon in macbeth, the raising of winds and storms, stands out in extremely bold relief. the explanation of this is as follows. in the year , king james vi. brought his bride, anne of denmark, home to scotland. during the voyage an unusually violent storm raged, which scattered the vessels composing the royal escort, and, it would appear, caused the destruction of one of them. by a marvellous chance, the king's ship was driven by a wind which blew directly contrary to that which filled the sails of the other vessels;[ ] and the king and queen were both placed in extreme jeopardy. james, who seems to have been as perfectly convinced of the reality of witchcraft as he was of his own infallibility, at once came to the conclusion that the storm had been raised by the aid of evil spirits, for the express purpose of getting rid of so powerful an enemy of the prince of darkness as the righteous king. the result was that a rigorous investigation was made into the whole affair; a great number of persons were tried for attempting the king's life by witchcraft; and that prince, undeterred by the apparent impropriety of being judge in what was, in reality, his own cause, presided at many of the trials, condescended to superintend the tortures applied to the accused in order to extort a confession, and even went so far in one case as to write a letter to the judges commanding a condemnation. [footnote : pitcairn, i. ii. .] . under these circumstances, considering who the prosecutor was, and who the judge, and the effectual methods at the service of the court for extorting confessions,[ ] it is not surprising that the king's surmises were fully justified by the statements of the accused. it is impossible to read these without having parts of the witch-scenes in "macbeth" ringing in the ears like an echo. john fian, a young schoolmaster, and leader of the gang, or "coven" as it was called, was charged with having caused the leak in the king's ship, and with having raised the wind and created a mist for the purpose of hindering his voyage.[ ] on another occasion he and several other witches entered into a ship, and caused it to perish.[ ] he was also able by witchcraft to open locks.[ ] he visited churchyards at night, and dismembered bodies for his charms; the bodies of unbaptized infants being preferred.[ ] [footnote : the account of the tortures inflicted upon fian are too horrible for quotation.] [footnote : pitcairn, i. ii. .] [footnote : ibid. . he confessed that satan commanded him to chase cats "purposlie to be cassin into the sea to raise windis for destructioune of schippis." macbeth, i. iii. - .] [footnote : "fylit for opening of ane loke be his sorcerie in david seytounis moderis, be blawing in ane woman's hand, himself sittand att the fyresyde."--see also the case of bessie roy, i. ii. . the english method of opening locks was more complicated than the scotch, as will appear from the following quotation from scot, book xii. ch. xiv. p. :-- "a charme to open locks. take a peece of wax crossed in baptisme, and doo but print certeine floures therein, and tie them in the hinder skirt of your shirt; and when you would undoo the locke, blow thrice therein, saieing, 'arato hoc partico hoc maratarykin; i open this doore in thy name that i am forced to breake, as thou brakest hell gates. in nomine patris etc. amen.'" macbeth, iv. i. .] [footnote : "finger of birth-strangled babe, ditch-delivered by a drab." macbeth, iv. i. .] agnes sampsoune confessed to the king that to compass his death she took a black toad and hung it by the hind legs for three days, and collected the venom that fell from it. she said that if she could have obtained a piece of linen that the king had worn, she could have destroyed his life with this venom; "causing him such extraordinarie paines as if he had beene lying upon sharpe thornes or endis of needles."[ ] she went out to sea to a vessel called _the grace of god_, and when she came away the devil raised a wind, and the vessel was wrecked.[ ] she delivered a letter from fian to another witch, which was to this effect: "ye sall warne the rest of the sisteris to raise the winde this day at ellewin houris to stay the queenis cuming in scotland."[ ] [footnote : pitcairn, i. ii. . "toad, that under cold stone days and nights has thirty-one sweltered venom sleeping got." macbeth, iv. i. .] [footnote : ibid. .] [footnote : ibid. .] this is her confession as to the methods adopted for raising the storm. "at the time when his majestie was in denmarke, shee being accompanied by the parties before speciallie named, took a cat and christened it, and afterwards bounde to each part of that cat the cheefest parts of a dead man, and the severall joyntes of his bodie; and that in the night following the said cat was conveyed into the middest of the sea by all these witches, sayling in their riddles or cives,[ ] as is afore said, and so left the said cat right before the town of leith in scotland. this done, there did arise such a tempest in the sea as a greater hath not been seene, which tempest was the cause of the perishing of a vessell coming over from the town of brunt ilande to the town of leith.... againe, it is confessed that the said christened cat was the cause that the kinges majesties shippe at his coming forth of denmarke had a contrarie wind to the rest of his shippes...."[ ] [footnote : macbeth, i. iii. .] [footnote : pitcairn, reprint of newes from scotland, i. ii. . see also trial of ewsame mccalgane, i. ii. .] . it is worth a note that this art of going to sea in sieves, which shakspere has referred to in his drama, seems to have been peculiar to this set of witches. english witches had the reputation of being able to go upon the water in egg-shells and cockle-shells, but seem never to have detected any peculiar advantages in the sieve. not so these scotch witches. agnes told the king that she, "with a great many other witches, to the number of two hundreth, all together went to sea, each one in a riddle or cive, and went into the same very substantially, with flaggons of wine, making merrie, and drinking by the way in the same riddles or cives, to the kirke of north barrick in lowthian, and that after they landed they tooke hands on the lande and daunced a reill or short daunce." they then opened the graves and took the fingers, toes, and knees of the bodies to make charms.[ ] [footnote : pitcairn, i. ii. .] it can be easily understood that these trials created an intense excitement in scotland. the result was that a tract was printed, containing a full account of all the principal incidents; and the fact that this pamphlet was reprinted once, if not twice,[ ] in london, shows that interest in the affair spread south of the border; and this is confirmed by the publisher's prefatorial apology, in which he states that the pamphlet was printed to prevent the public from being imposed upon by unauthorized and extravagant statements of what had taken place.[ ] under ordinary circumstances, events of this nature would form a nine days' wonder, and then die a natural death; but in this particular case the public interest continued for an abnormal time; for eight years subsequent to the date of the trials, james published his "daemonologie"--a work founded to a great extent upon his experiences at the trials of . this was a sign to both england and scotland that the subject of witchcraft was still of engrossing interest to him; and as he was then the fully recognized heir-apparent to the english crown, the publication of such a work would not fail to induce a great amount of attention to the subject dealt with. in he ascended the english throne. his first parliament met on the th of march, , and on the th of the same month a bill was brought into the house of lords dealing with the question of witchcraft. it was referred to a committee of which twelve bishops were members; and this committee, after much debating, came to the conclusion that the bill was imperfect. in consequence of this a fresh one was drawn, and by the th of june a statute had passed both houses of parliament, which enacted, among other things, that "if any person shall practise or exercise any invocation or conjuration of any evil or wicked spirit, or shall consult with, entertain, feed, or reward any evil and wicked spirit,[ ] or take up any dead man, woman, or child out of his, her, or their grave ... or the skin, bone, or any other part of any dead person to be employed or used in any manner of witchcraft,[ ] ... or shall ... practise ... any witchcraft ... whereby any person shall be killed, wasted, pined, or lamed in his or her body or any part thereof,[ ] such offender shall suffer the pains of death as felons, without benefit of clergy or sanctuary." hutchinson, in his "essay on witchcraft," published in , declares that this statute was framed expressly to meet the offences exposed by the trials of - ; but, although this cannot be conclusively proved, yet it is not at all improbable that the hurry with which the statute was passed into law immediately upon the accession of james, would recall to the public mind the interest he had taken in those trials in particular and the subject in general, and that shakspere producing, as nearly all the critics agree, his tragedy at about this date, should draw upon his memory for the half-forgotten details of those trials, and thus embody in "macbeth" the allusions to them that have been pointed out--much less accurately than he did in the case of the babington affair, because the facts had been far less carefully recorded, and the time at which his attention had been called to them far more remote.[ ] [footnote : one copy of this reprint bears the name of w. wright, another that of thomas nelson. the full title is-- "newes from scotland, "declaring the damnable life of doctor fian, a notable sorcerer, who was burned at edenborough in januarie last, ; which doctor was register to the deuill, that sundrie times preached at north barricke kirke to a number of notorious witches; with the true examinations of the said doctor and witches as they uttered them in the presence of the scottish king: discouering how they pretended to bewitch and drowne his majestie in the sea, comming from denmarke, with such other wonderfull matters, as the like hath not bin heard at anie time. "published according to the scottish copie. "printed for william wright."] [footnote : these events are referred to in an existing letter by the notorious thos. phelippes to thos. barnes, cal. state papers (may , ), - , p. .] [footnote : such as paddock, graymalkin, and harpier.] [footnote : "liver of blaspheming jew," etc.--macbeth, iv. i. .] [footnote : "i will drain him dry as hay; sleep shall neither night nor day hang upon his pent-house lid; he shall live a man forbid: weary se'nnights, nine times nine, shall he dwindle, peak, and pine." macbeth, i. iii. - .] [footnote : the excitement about the details of the witch trials would culminate in . harsnet's book would be read by shakspere in .] . there is one other mode of temptation which was adopted by the evil spirits, implicated to a great extent with the traditions of witchcraft, but nevertheless more suitably handled as a separate subject, which is of so gross and revolting a nature that it should willingly be passed over in silence, were it not for the fact that the belief in it was, as scot says, "so stronglie and universallie received" in the times of elizabeth and james. from the very earliest period of the christian era the affection of one sex for the other was considered to be under the special control of the devil. marriage was to be tolerated; but celibacy was the state most conducive to the near intercourse with heaven that was so dearly sought after. this opinion was doubtless generated by the tendency of the early christian leaders to hold up the events of the life rather than the teachings of the sacred founder of the sect as the one rule of conduct to be received by his followers. to have been the recipients of the stigmata was a far greater evidence of holiness and favour with heaven than the quiet and unnoted daily practice of those virtues upon which christ pronounced his blessing; and in less improbable matters they did not scruple, in their enthusiasm, to attempt to establish a rule of life in direct contradiction to the laws of that universe of which they professed to believe him to be the creator. the futile attempt to imitate his immaculate purity blinded their eyes to the fact that he never taught or encouraged celibacy among his followers, and this gradually led them to the strange conclusion that the passion which, sublimed and brought under control, is the source of man's noblest and holiest feelings, was a prompting proceeding from the author of all evil. imbued with this idea, religious enthusiasts of both sexes immured themselves in convents; took oaths of perpetual celibacy; and even, in certain isolated cases, sought to compromise with heaven, and baffle the tempter, by rendering a fall impossible--forgetting that the victory over sin does not consist in immunity from temptation, but, being tempted, not to fall. but no convent walls are so strong as to shut great nature out; and even within these sacred precincts the ascetics found that they were not free from the temptations of their arch-enemy. in consequence of this, a belief sprang up, and spread from its original source into the outer world, in a class of devils called incubi and succubi, who roamed the earth with no other object than to tempt people to abandon their purity of life. the cases of assault by incubi were much more frequent than those by succubi, just as women were much more affected by the dancing manias in the fifteenth century than men;[ ]--the reason, perhaps, being that they are much less capable of resisting physical privation;--but, according to the belief of the middle ages, there was no generic difference between the incubus and succubus. here was a belief that, when the witch fury sprang up, attached itself as a matter of course as the phase of the crime; and it was an almost universal charge against the accused that they offended in this manner with their familiars, and hundreds of poor creatures suffered death upon such an indictment. more details will be found in the authorities upon this unpleasant subject.[ ] [footnote : hecker, epidemics of the middle ages, p. .] [footnote : hutchinson, p. . the witch of edmonton, act v. scot, discoverie, book iv.] . this intercourse did not, as a rule, result in offspring; but this was not universally the case. all badly deformed or monstrous children were suspected of having had such an undesirable parentage, and there was a great tendency to believe that they ought to be destroyed. luther was a decided advocate of this course, deeming the destruction of a life far preferable to the chance of having a devil in the family. in drayton's poem, "the mooncalf," one of the gossips present at the birth of the calf suggests that it ought to be buried alive as a monster.[ ] caliban is a mooncalf,[ ] and his origin is distinctly traced to a source of this description. it is perfectly clear what was the one thing that the foul witch sycorax did which prevented her life from being taken; and it would appear from this that the inhabitants of argier were far more merciful in this respect than their european neighbours. such a charge would have sent any woman to the stake in scotland, without the slightest hope of mercy, and the usual plea for respite would only have been an additional reason for hastening the execution of the sentence.[ ] [footnote : ed. , p. .] [footnote : tempest, ii. ii. , .] [footnote : cf. othello, i. i. . titus andronicus, iv. ii.] . in the preceding pages an endeavour has been made to delineate the most prominent features of a belief which the great reformation was destined first to foster into unnatural proportions and vitality, and in the end to destroy. up to the period of the reformation, the creed of the nation had been practically uniform, and one set of dogmas was unhesitatingly accepted by the people as infallible, and therefore hardly demanding critical consideration. the great upheaval of the sixteenth century rent this quiescent uniformity into shreds; doctrines until then considered as indisputable were brought within the pale of discussion, and hence there was a great diversity of opinion, not only between the supporters of the old and of the new faith, but between the reformers themselves. this was conspicuously the case with regard to the belief in the devils and their works. the more timid of the reformers clung in a great measure to the catholic opinions; a small band, under the influence possibly of that knight-errant of freedom of thought, giordano bruno, who exercised some considerable influence during his visit to england by means of his oxford lectures and disputations, entirely denied the existence of evil spirits; but the great majority gave in their adherence to a creed that was the mean between the doctrines of the old faith and the new scepticism. their strong common sense compelled them to reject the puerilities advanced as serious evidence by the catholic church; but they cast aside with equal vehemence and more horror the doctrines of the bruno school. "that there are devils," says bullinger, reduced apparently from argument to invective, "the sadducees in times past denied, and at this day also some scarce religious, nay, rather epicures, deny the same; who, unless they repent, shall one day feel, to their exceeding great pain and smart, both that there are devils, and that they are the tormentors and executioners of all wicked men and epicures."[ ] [footnote : bullinger, fourth decade, th sermon, p. , parker society.] . it must be remembered, too, that the emancipation from medievalism was a very gradual process, not, as we are too prone to think it, a revolution suddenly and completely effected. it was an evolution, not an explosion. there is found, in consequence, a great divergence of opinion, not only between the earliest and the later reformers, but between the statements of the same man at different periods of his career. tyndale, for instance, seems to have believed in the actual possession of the human body by devils;[ ] and this appears to have been the opinion of the majority at the beginning of the reformation, for the first prayer-book of edward vi. contained the catholic form of exorcism for driving devils out of children, which was expunged upon revision, the doctrine of obsession having in the mean time triumphed over the older belief. it is necessary to bear these facts in mind whilst considering any attempt to depict the general bearings of a belief such as that in evil spirits; for many irreconcilable statements are to be found among the authorities; and it is the duty of the writer to sift out and describe those views which predominated, and these must not be supposed to be proved inaccurate because a chance quotation can be produced in contradiction. [footnote : i tyndale, p. . parker society.] . there is great danger, in the attempt to bring under analysis any phase of religious belief, that the method of treatment may appear unsympathetic if not irreverent. the greatest effort has been made in these pages to avoid this fault as far as possible; for, without doubt, any form of religious dogma, however barbarous, however seemingly ridiculous, if it has once been sincerely believed and trusted by any portion of mankind, is entitled to reverent treatment. no body of great and good men can at any time credit and take comfort from a lie pure and simple; and if an extinct creed appears to lack that foundation of truth which makes creeds tolerable, it is safer to assume that it had a meaning and a truthfulness, to those who held it, that lapse of time has tended to destroy, together with the creed itself, than to condemn men wholesale as knaves and hypocrites. but the particular subject which has here been dealt with will surely be considered to be specially entitled to respect, when it is remembered that it was once an integral portion of the belief of most of our best and bravest ancestors--of men and women who dared to witness to their own sincerity amidst the fires of persecution and in the solitude of exile. it has nearly all disappeared now. the terrific hierarchy of fiends, which was so real, so full of horror three hundred years ago[ ], has gradually vanished away before the advent of fuller knowledge and purer faith, and is now hardly thought of, unless as a dead mediaeval myth. but let us deal tenderly with it, remembering that the day may come when the beliefs that are nearest to our hearts may be treated as open to contempt or ridicule, and the dogmas to which we most passionately cling will, "like an insubstantial pageant faded, leave not a wrack behind." [footnote : perhaps the following prayer, contained in thomas becon's "pomander," shows more clearly than the comments of any critic the reality of the terror:-- "an infinite number of wicked angels there are, o lord christ, which without ceasing seek my destruction. against this exceeding great multitude of evil spirits send thou me thy blessed and heavenly angels, which may deliver me from then tyranny. thou, o lord, hast devoured hell, and overcome the prince of darkness and all his ministers; yea, and that not for thyself, but for those that believe in thee. suffer me not, therefore, to be overcome of satan and of his servants, but rather let me triumph over them, that i, through strong faith and help of the blessed angels, having the victory of the hellish army, may with a joyful heart say, death, where is thy sting? hell, where is thy victory?--and so for ever and ever magnify thy holy name. amen." parker society, p. .] * * * * * . little attempt has hitherto been made, in the way of direct proof, to show that fairies are really only a class of devils who exercise their powers in a manner less terrible and revolting than that depicted by theologians; and for this reason chiefly--that the proposition is already more than half established when it has been shown that the attributes and functions possessed by both fairy and devil are similar in kind, although differing in degree. this has already been done to a great extent in the preceding pages, where the various actions of puck and ariel have been shown to differ in no essential respect from those of the devils of the time; but before commencing to study this phase of supernaturalism in shakspere's works as a whole, and as indicative, to a certain extent, of the development of his thought upon the relation of man to the invisible world about and above him, it is necessary that this identity should be admitted without a shadow of a doubt. . it has been shown that fairies were probably the descendants of the lesser local deities, as devils were of the more important of the heathen gods that were overturned by the advancing wave of christianity, although in the course of time this distinction was entirely obliterated and forgotten. it has also been shown, as before mentioned, that many of the powers exercised by fairies were in their essence similar to those exercised by devils, especially that of appearing in divers shapes. these parallels could be carried out to an almost unlimited extent; but a few proofs only need be cited to show this identity. in the mediaeval romance of "king orfeo" fairyland has been substituted for the classical hades.[ ] king james, in his "daemonologie," adopts a fourfold classification of devils, one of which he names "phairie," and co-ordinates with the incubus.[ ] the name of the devil supposed to preside at the witches' sabbaths is sometimes given as hecat, diana, sybilla; sometimes queen of elfame,[ ] or fairie.[ ] indeed, shakspere's line in "the comedy of errors," had it not been unnecessarily tampered with by the critics-- "a fiend, a fairy, pitiless and rough,"[ ] would have conclusively proved this identity of character. [footnote : fairy mythology of shakspere, hazlitt, p. .] [footnote : daemonologie, p. . an instance of a fairy incubus is given in the "life of robin goodfellow," hazlitt's fairy mythology, p. .] [footnote : pitcairn, iii. p. .] [footnote : ibid. i. p. , and many other places.] [footnote : fairy has been altered to "fury," but compare peele, battle of alcazar: "fiends, fairies, hags that fight in beds of steel."] . the real distinction between these two classes of spirits depends on the condition of national thought upon the subject of supernaturalism in its largest sense. a belief which has little or no foundation upon indisputable phenomena must be continually passing through varying phases, and these phases will be regulated by the nature of the subjects upon which the attention of the mass of the people is most firmly concentrated. hence, when a nation has but one religious creed, and one that has for centuries been accepted by them, almost without question or doubt, faith becomes stereotyped, and the mind assumes an attitude of passive receptivity, undisturbed by doubts or questionings. under such conditions, a belief in evil spirits ever ready and watching to tempt a man into heresy of belief or sinful act, and thus to destroy both body and soul, although it may exist as a theoretic portion of the accepted creed, cannot possibly become a vital doctrine to be believed by the general public. it may exist as a subject for learned dispute to while away the leisure hours of divines, but cannot by any possibility obtain an influence over the thoughts and lives of their charges. mental disturbance on questions of doctrinal importance being, for these reasons, out of the question, the attention of the people is almost entirely riveted upon questions of material ease and advantage. the little lets and hindrances of every-day life in agricultural and domestic matters are the tribulations that appeal most incessantly to the ineradicable sense of an invisible power adverse to the interests of mankind, and consequently the class of evil spirits believed in at such a time will be fairies rather than devils--malicious little spirits, who blight the growing corn; stop the butter from forming in the churn; pinch the sluttish housemaid black and blue; and whose worst act is the exchange of the baby from its cot for a fairy changeling;--beings of a nature most exasperating to thrifty housewife and hard-handed farmer, but nevertheless not irrevocably prejudiced against humanity, and easily to be pacified and reduced into a state of fawning friendship by such little attentions as could be rendered without difficulty by the poorest cotter. the whole fairy mythology is perfumed with an honest, healthy, careless joy in life, and a freedom from mental doubt. "i love true lovers, honest men, good fellowes, good huswives, good meate, good drinke, and all things that good is, but nothing that is ill," declares robin goodfellow;[ ] and this jovial materialism only reflects the state of mind of the folk who were not unwilling to believe that this lively little spirit might be seen of nights busying himself in their houses by the dying embers of the deserted fire. [footnote : hazlitt, fairy mythology, p. .] . such seems to have been the condition of england immediately before the period of the great reformation. but with the progress of that revolution of thought the condition changes. the one true and eternal creed, as it had been deemed, is shattered for ever. men who have hitherto accepted their religious convictions in much the same way as they had succeeded to their patrimonies are compelled by this tide of opposition to think and study for themselves. each man finds himself left face to face with the great hereafter, and his relation to it. terrible doctrines are formulated, and press themselves with remorseless vigour upon his understanding--original sin, justification by faith, eternal damnation for even honest error of belief,--doctrines that throw an atmosphere of solemnity, if not gloom, about national thought, in which no fairy mythology can flourish. it is no longer questions of material ease and gain that are of the chief concern; and consequently the fairies and their doings, from their own triviality, fall far into the background, and their place is occupied by a countless horde of remorseless schemers, who are never ceasing in their efforts to drag both body and soul to perdition. . but it is in the towns, the centres of interchange of thought, of learning, and of controversy, that this revolution first gathers power; the sparsely populated country-sides are far more impervious to the new ideas, and the country people cling far longer and more tenaciously to the dying religion and its attendant beliefs. the rural districts were but little affected by the reformation for years after it had triumphed in the towns, and consequently the beliefs of the inhabitants were hardly touched by the struggle that was going on within so short a distance. we find a reginald scot, indeed, complaining, half in joke, half in sarcasm, that robin goodfellow has long disappeared from the land;[ ] but it is only from the towns that he has fled--towns in which the spirit of the cartwrights and the latimers, the barnhams and the delabers, is abroad. in the same cambridge where scot had been educated, a young student had hanged himself because the shadow of the doctrine of predestination was too terrible for him to live under;[ ] and such a place was surely no home for puck and his merry band. but in the country places, remote from the growl and trembling of this mental earthquake, he still loved to lurk; and even at the very moment when scot was penning the denial of his existence, he was nestling amongst the woods and flowers of avonside, and, invisible, whispering in the ear of a certain fair-haired youth there thoughts of no inconsiderable moment. and long time after that--after the youth had become a man, and had coined those thoughts into words that glitter still; after his monument had been erected in the quiet stratford churchyard--puck revelled, harmless and undisturbed, along many a country-side; nay, even to the present day, in some old-world nooks, a faint whispering rumour of him may still be heard. [footnote : scot, introduction.] [footnote : foxe, iv. p. .] . now, perhaps one of the most distinctive marks of literary genius is a certain receptivity of mind; a capability of receiving impressions from all surrounding circumstance--of extracting from all sources, whether from nature or man, consciously or unconsciously, the material upon which it shall work. for this process to be perfectly accomplished, an entire and enthusiastic sympathy with man and the current ideas of the time is absolutely essential, and in proportion as this sympathy is contracted and partial, so will the work produced be stunted and untrue; and, on the other hand, the more universal and entire it is, the more perfect and vital will be the art. bearing this in mind, and also the facts that shakspere's early training was effected in a little country village; that upon the verge of manhood, he came to london, where he spent his prime in contact with the bustle and friction of busy town life; and that the later years of his life were passed in the quiet retirement of the home of his boyhood--there would be good ground for an argument, _a priori_, even were there none of a more conclusive nature, that his earlier works would be found impregnated with the country fairy-myths with which his youth would come in contact; that the result of the labours of his middle life would show that these earlier reminiscenses had been gradually obliterated by the gloomier influence of ideas that were the result of the struggle of opposed theories that had not then ceased to rage in the towns, and that the diabolic element and questions relating thereto would predominate; and that, finally, his later works, written under the calmer influence of stratford life, would show a certain return to the fairy-lore of his earlier years. . but fortunately we are not left to rely upon any such hypothetical evidence in this matter, however probable it may appear. although the general reading public cannot be asked to accept as infallible any chronological order of shakspere's plays that dogmatically asserts a particular sequence, or to investigate the somewhat dry and specialist arguments upon which the conclusions are founded, yet there are certain groupings into periods which are agreed upon as accurate by nearly all critics, and which, without the slightest danger of error, may be asserted to be correct. for instance, it is indisputable that "love's labour's lost," "the comedy of errors," "romeo and juliet," and "a midsummer night's dream" are amongst shakspere's earliest works; that the tragedies of "julius caesar," "hamlet," "othello," "macbeth," and "lear" are the productions of his middle life, between and ; and that "a winter's tale" and "the tempest" are amongst the latest plays which he wrote.[ ] here we have everything that is required to prove the question in hand. at the commencement and at the end of his writings--when a youth fresh from the influence of his country nurture and education, and when a mature man, settling down into the old life again after a long and victorious struggle with the world, with his accumulated store of experience--we find plays which are perfectly saturated with fairy-lore: "the dream" and "the tempest." these are the poles of shakspere's thought in this respect; and in the centre, imbedded as it were between two layers of material that do not bear any distinctive stamp of their own, but appear rather as a medium for uniting the diverse strata, lie the great tragedies, produced while he was in the very rush and swirl of town life, and reflecting accurately, as we have seen, many of the doubts and speculations that were agitating the minds of men who were ardently searching out truth. it is worth noting too, in passing, that directly shakspere steps out of his beaten path to depict, in "the merry wives of windsor," the happy country life and manners of his day, he at the same time returns to fairyland again, and brings out the windsor children trooping to pinch and plague the town-bred, tainted falstaff. [footnote : for an elaborate and masterly investigation of the question of the chronological order of the plays, which must be assumed here, see mr. furnivall's introduction to the leopold shakspere.] . but this is not by any means all that this subject reveals to us about shakspere; if it were, the less said about it the better. to look upon "the tempest" as in its essence merely a return to "the dream"--the end as the beginning; to believe that his thoughts worked in a weary, unending circle--that the valley of the shadow of death only leads back to the foot of the hill difficulty--is intolerable, and not more intolerable than false. although based upon similar material, the ideas and tendencies of "the tempest" upon supernaturalism are no more identical with those of "a midsummer night's dream" than the thoughts of berowne upon things in general are those of hamlet, or hamlet's those of prospero. but before it is possible to point out the nature of this difference, and to show that the change is a natural growth of thought, not a mere retrogression, a few explanatory remarks are necessary. there is no more insufficient and misleading view of shakspere and his work than that which until recently obtained almost universal credence, and is even at the present time somewhat loudly asserted in some quarters; namely, that he was a man of considerable genius, who wrote and got acted some thirty plays more or less, simply for commercial purposes and nothing more; made money thereby, and died leaving a will; and that, beyond this, he and his works are, and must remain, an inexplicable mystery. the critic who holds this view, and finds it equally advantageous to commence a study of shakspere's work by taking "the tempest" or "love's labour's lost" as his text, is about as judicious as the botanist who would enlarge upon the structure of the seed-pod without first explaining the preliminary stages of plant growth, or the architect who would dilate upon the most convenient arrangement of chimney-pots before he had discussed the laws of foundation. the plays may be studied separately, and studied so are found beautiful; but taken in an approximate chronological order, like a string of brilliant jewels, each one gains lustre from those that precede and follow it. . for no man ever wrote sincerely and earnestly, or indeed ever did any one thing in such a spirit, without leaving some impress upon his work of his mental condition whilst he was doing it; and no such man ever continued his literary labours from the period of youth right through his manhood, without leaving behind him, in more or less legible character, a record of the ripening of his thought upon matters of eternal importance, although they may not be of necessity directly connected with the ostensible subject in hand. insincere men may ape sentiments they do not really believe in; but in the end they will either be exposed and held up to ridicule, or their work will sink into obscurity. sincerity in the expression of genuine thought and feeling alone can stand the test of time. and this is in reality no contradiction to what has just been said as to the necessity of a receptive condition of mind in the production of works of true genius. this capacity of receiving the most delicate objective impressions is, indeed, one essential; but without the cognate power to assimilate this food, and evolve the result that these influences have produced subjectively, it is, worse than useless. the two must co-exist and act and react upon one another. nor must we be induced to surrender these principles, in the present particular case, on account of the usual fine but vague talk about shakspere's absolute self-annihilation in favour of the characters that he depicts. it is said that shakspere so identifies himself with each person in his dramas, that it is impossible to detect the great master and his thoughts behind this cunningly devised screen. if this means that shakespere has always a perfect comprehension of his characters, is competent to measure out to each absolute and unerring justice, and is capable of sympathy with even the most repulsive, it will not be disputed for an instant. it is so true, that it is dangerous to take a sentence out of the mouth of any one of his characters and say for certain, "this shakspere thought," although there are many characters with whom every one must feel that shakspere identified himself for the time being rather than others. but if it is intended to assert that shakspere has so eliminated himself from his writings as to make it impossible to trace anywhere the tendencies of his own thought at the time when he was writing, it must be most emphatically denied for the reasons just stated. freedom from prejudice must be carefully dissociated from lack of interest in the motive that underlies the construction of each play. there is a tone or key-note in each drama that indicates the author's mental condition at the time when it was produced; and if several plays, following each other in brisk succession, all have the same predominant tone, it seems to be past question that shakspere is incidentally and indirectly uttering his own personal thought and experience. . if it be granted, then, that it is possible to follow thus the growth of shakspere's thought through the medium of his successive works, there is only one small point to be glanced at before attempting to trace this growth in the matter of supernaturalism. the natural history of the evolution of opinion upon matters which, for want of a more embracing and satisfactory word, we must be content to call "religious," follows a uniform course in the minds of all men, except those "duller than the fat weed that roots itself at ease on lethe's wharf," who never get beyond the primary stage. this course is separable into three periods. the first is that in which a man accepts unhesitatingly the doctrines which he has received from his spiritual teachers--customary not intellectual, belief. this sits lightly on him; entails no troublesome doubts and questionings; possesses, or appears to possess, formulae to meet all possible emergencies, and consequently brings with it a happiness that is genuine, though superficial. but this customary belief rarely satisfies for long. contact with the world brings to light other and opposed theories: introspection and independent investigation of the bases of the hereditary faith are commenced; many doctrines that have been hitherto accepted as eternally and indisputably true are found to rest upon but slight foundation, apart from their title to respect on account of age; doubts follow as to the claim to acceptance of the whole system that has been so easily and unhesitatingly swallowed; and the period of scepticism, or no-belief, with its attendant misery, commences--for although dagon has been but little honoured in the time of his strength, in his downfall he is much regretted. then comes that long, weary groping after some firm, reliable basis of belief: but heaven and earth appear for the time to conspire against the seeker; an intellectual flood has drowned out the old order of things; not even a mountain peak appears in the wide waste of desolation as assurance of ultimate rest; and in the dark, overhanging firmament no arc of promise is to be seen. but this is a state of mind which, from its very nature, cannot continue for ever: no man could endure it. while it lasts the struggle must be continuous, but somewhere through the cloud lies the sunshine and the land of peace--the final period of intellectual belief. out of the chaos comes order; ideas that but recently appeared confused, incoherent, and meaningless assume their true perspective. it is found that all the strands of the old conventional faith have not been snapped in the turmoil; and these, re-knit and strengthened with the new and full knowledge of experience and investigation, form the cable that secures that strange holy confidence of belief that can only be gained by a preliminary warfare with doubt--a peace that truly passes all understanding to those who have never battled for it,--as to its foundation, diverse to a miracle in diverse minds, but still, a peace. . if this be a true history of the course of development of every mind that is capable of independent thought upon and investigation of such high matters, it follows that shakspere's soul must have experienced a similar struggle--for he was a man of like passions with ourselves; indeed, to so acute and sensitive a mind the struggle would be, probably, more prolonged and more agonizing than to many; and it is these three mental conditions--first, of unthinking acceptance of generally received teaching; second, of profound and agitating scepticism; and, thirdly, of belief founded upon reason and experience--that may be naturally expected to be found impressed upon his early, middle, and later works. . it is impossible here to do more than indicate some of the evidence that this supposition is correct, for to attempt to investigate the question exhaustively would involve the minute consideration of a majority of the plays. the period of shakspere's customary or conventional belief is illustrated in "a midsummer night's dream," and to a certain extent also in the "comedy of errors." in the former play we find him loyally accepting certain phases of the hereditary stratford belief in supernaturalism, throwing them into poetical form, and making them beautiful. it has often before been observed, and it is well worthy of observation, that of the three groups of characters in the play, the country folk--a class whose manner and appearance had most vividly reflected themselves upon the camera of shakspere's mind--are by far the most lifelike and distinct; the fairies, who had been the companions of his childhood and youth in countless talks in the ingle and ballads in the lanes, come second in prominence and finish; whilst the ostensible heroes and heroines of the piece, the aristocrats of athens, are colourless and uninteresting as a dumb-show--the real shadows of the play. this is exactly the ratio of impressionability that the three classes would have for the mind of the youthful dramatist. the first is a creation from life, the second from traditionary belief, the third from hearsay. and when it has been said that the fairies are a creation from traditionary belief, a full and accurate description of them has been afforded. they are an embodiment of a popular superstition, and nothing more. they do not conceal any thought of the poet who has created them, nor are they used for any deeper purpose with regard to the other persons of the drama than temporary and objectless annoyance. throughout the whole play runs a healthy, thoughtless, honest, almost riotous happiness; no note of difficulty, no shadow of coming doubt being perceptible. the pert and nimble spirit of mirth is fully awakened; the worst tricks of the intermeddling spirits are mischievous merely, and of only transitory influence, and "the summer still doth tend upon their state," brightening this fairyland with its sunshine and flowers. man has absolutely no power to govern these supernatural powers, and they have but unimportant influence over him. they can affect his comfort, but they cannot control his fate. but all this is merely an adapting and elaborating of ideas which had been handed down from father to son for many generations. shakspere's puck is only the puck of a hundred ballads reproduced by the hand of a true poet; no original thought upon the connection of the visible with the invisible world is imported into the creation. all these facts tend to show that when shakspere wrote "a midsummer night's dream," that is, at the beginning of his career as a dramatic author, he had not broken away from the trammels of the beliefs in which he had been brought up, but accepted them unhesitatingly and joyously. . but there is a gradual toning down of this spirit of unbroken content as time wears on. putting aside the historical plays, in which shakspere was much more bound down by his subject-matter than in any other species of drama, we find the comedies, in which his room for expression of individual feeling was practically unlimited, gradually losing their unalloyed hilarity, and deepening down into a sadness of thought and expression that sometimes leaves a doubt whether the plays should be classed as comedies at all. shakspere has been more and more in contact with the disputes and doubts of the educated men of his time, and seeds have been silently sowing themselves in his heart, which are soon to bring forth a plenteous harvest in the great tragedies of which these semi-comedies, such as "all's well that ends well" and "measure for measure," are but the first-fruits. . thus, when next we find shakspere dealing with questions relating to supernaturalism, the tone is quite different from that taken in his earlier work. he has reached the second period of his thought upon the subject, and this has cast its attendant gloom upon his writings. that he was actually battling with questions current in his time is demonstrated by the way in which, in three consecutive plays, derived from utterly diverse sources, the same question of ghost or devil is agitated, as has before been pointed out. but it is not merely a point of theological dogma which stamps these plays as the product of shakspere's period of scepticism, but a theory of the influence of supernatural beings upon the whole course of human life. man is still incapable of influencing these unseen forces, or bending them to his will; but they are now no longer harmless, or incapable of anything but temporary or trivial evil. puck might lead night wanderers into mischance, and laugh mischievously at the bodily harm that he had caused them; but puck has now disappeared, and in his stead is found a malignant spirit, who seeks to laugh his fiendish laughter over the soul he has deceived into destruction. questions arise thick and fast that are easier put than answered. can it be that evil influences have the upper hand in this world? that, be a man never so honest, never so pure, he may nevertheless become the sport of blind chance or ruthless wickedness? may a hamlet, patiently struggling after truth and duty, be put upon and abused by the darker powers? may macbeth, who would fain do right, were not evil so ever present with him, be juggled with and led to destruction by fiends? may an undistinguishing fate sweep away at once the good with the evil--hamlet with laertes; desdemona with iago; cordelia with edmund? and above the turmoil of this reign of terror, is there no word uttered of a supreme good guiding and controlling the unloosed ill--no word of encouragement, none of hope? if this be so indeed, that man is but the puppet of malignant spirits, away with this life. it is not worth the living; for what power has man against the fiends? but at this point arises a further question to demand solution: what shall be hereafter? if evil is supreme here, shall it not be so in that undiscovered country,--that life to come? the dreams that may come give him pause, and he either shuffles on, doubting, hesitating, and incapable of decision, or he hurls himself wildly against his fate. in either case his life becomes like to a tale "told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying--nothing!" . it is strange to note, too, how the ebb of this wave of scepticism upon questions relating to the immaterial world is only recoil that adds force to a succeeding wave of cynicism with regard to the physical world around. "hamlet," "macbeth," and "othello" give place to "lear," "troilus and cressida," "antony and cleopatra," and "timon." so true is it that "unfaith in aught is want of faith in all," that in these later plays it would seem that honour, honesty, and justice were virtues not possessed by man or woman; or, if possessed, were only a curse to bring down disgrace and destruction upon the possessor. contrast the women of these plays with those of the comedies immediately preceding the hamlet period. in the latter plays we find the heroines, by their sweet womanly guidance and gentle but firm control, triumphantly bringing good out of evil in spite of adverse circumstance. beatrice, rosalind, viola, helena, and isabella are all, not without a tinge of knight-errantry that does not do the least violence to the conception of tender, delicate womanhood, the good geniuses of the little worlds in which their influence is made to be felt. events must inevitably have gone tragically but for their intervention. but with the advent of the second period all this changes. at first the women, like brutus' portia, ophelia, desdemona, however noble or sweet in character and well meaning in motive, are incapable of grasping the guiding threads of the events around them and controlling them for good. they have to give way to characters of another kind, who bear the form without the nature of women. commencing with lady macbeth, the conception falls lower and lower, through goneril and regan, cressida, cleopatra, until in the climax of this utter despair, "timon," there is no character that it would not be a profanity to call by the name of woman. . and just as womanly purity and innocence quail before unwomanly self-assertion and voluptuousness, so manly loyalty and unselfishness give way before unmanly treachery and self-seeking. it is true that the bad men do not finally triumph, but they triumph over the good with whom they happen to come in contact. in "king lear," what man shows any virtue who does not receive punishment for the same? not gloucester, whose loyal devotion to his king obtains for him a punishment that is only merciful in that it prevents him from further suffering the sight of his beloved master's misery; not kent, who, faithful in his self-denying service through all manner of obloquy, is left at last with a prayer that he may be allowed to follow lear to the grave; and beyond these two there is little good to be found. but "lear" is not by any means the climax. the utter despair of good in man or woman rises higher in "troilus and cressida," and reaches its culminating point in "timon," a fragment only of which is shakspere's. the pen fell from the tired hand; the worn and distracted brain refused to fulfil the task of depicting the depth to which the poet's estimate of mankind had fallen; and we hardly know whether to rejoice or to regret that the clumsy hand of an inferior writer has screened from our knowledge the full disclosure of the utter and contemptuous cynicism and want of faith with which, for the time being, shakspere was infected. . before passing on to consider the plays of the third period as evidence of shakspere's final thought, it will be well to pause and re-read with attention a summing-up of shakspere's teaching as it has been presented to us by one of the greatest and most earnest teachers of morality of the present day. every word that mr. ruskin writes is so evidently from the depth of his own good heart, and every doctrine that he enunciates so pure in theory and so true in practice, that a difference with him upon the final teaching of shakspere's work cannot be too cautiously expressed. but the estimate of this which he has given in the third lecture of "sesame and lilies"[ ] is so painful, if regarded as shakspere's latest and most mature opinion, that everybody, even mr. ruskin himself, would be glad to modify its gloom with a few rays of hope, if it were possible to do so. "what then," says mr. ruskin, "is the message to us of our own poet and searcher of hearts, after fifteen hundred years of christian faith have been numbered over the graves of men? are his words more cheerful than the heathen's (homer)? is his hope more near, his trust more sure, his reading of fate more happy? ah no! he differs from the heathen poet chiefly in this, that he recognizes for deliverance no gods nigh at hand, and that, by petty chance, by momentary folly, by broken message, by fool's tyranny, or traitor's snare, the strongest and most righteous are brought to their ruin, and perish without word of hope. he, indeed, as part of his rendering of character, ascribes the power and modesty of habitual devotion to the gentle and the just. the death-bed of katharine is bright with visions of angels; and the great soldier-king, standing by his few dead, acknowledges the presence of the hand that can save alike by many or by few. but observe that from those who with deepest spirit meditate, and with deepest passion mourn, there are no such words as these; nor in their hearts are any such consolations. instead of the perpetual sense of the helpful presence of the deity, which, through all heathen tradition, is the source of heroic strength, in battle, in exile, and in the valley of the shadow of death, we find only in the great christian poet the consciousness of a moral law, through which 'the gods are just, and of our pleasant vices make instruments to scourge us;' and of the resolved arbitration of the destinies, that conclude into precision of doom what we feebly and blindly began; and force us, when our indiscretion serves us, and our deepest plots do pall, to the confession that 'there's a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will.'"[ ] [footnote : rd edition, § .] [footnote : mr. ruskin has analyzed "the tempest," in "munera pulveris," § , et seqq., but from another point of view.] . now, it is perfectly clear that this criticism was written with two or three plays, all belonging to one period, very conspicuously before the mind. of the illustrative exceptions that are made to the general rule, one is derived from a play which shakspere wrote at a very early date, and the other from a scene which he almost certainly never wrote at all; the whole of the rest of the passage quoted is founded upon "hamlet," "macbeth," "othello," and "lear"--that is, upon the earlier productions of what we must call shakspere's sceptical period. but these plays represent an essentially transient state of thought. shakspere was to learn and to teach that those who most deeply meditate and most passionately mourn are not the men of noblest or most influential character--that such may command our sympathy, but hardly our respect or admiration. still less did shakspere finally assert, although for a time he believed, that a blind destiny concludes into precision what we feebly and blindly begin. far otherwise and nobler was his conception of man and his mission, and the unseen powers and their influences, in the third and final stage of his thought. . had shakspere lived longer, he would doubtless have left us a series of plays filled with the bright and reassuring tenderness and confidence of this third period, as long and as brilliant in execution as those of the second period. but as it is we are in possession of quite enough material to enable us to form accurate conclusions upon the state of his final thought. it is upon "the tempest" that we must in the main rely for an exposition of this; for though the other plays and fragments fully exhibit the restoration of his faith in man and woman, which was a necessary concurrence with his return from scepticism, yet it is in "the tempest" that he brings himself as nearly face to face as dramatic possibilities would allow him with circumstances that admit of the indirect expression of such thought. it is fortunate, too, for the purpose of comparing shakspere's earliest and latest opinions, that the characters of "the tempest" are divisible into the same groups as those of "the dream." the gross _canaille_ are represented, but now no longer the most accurate in colour and most absorbing in interest of the characters of the play, or unessential to the evolution of the plot. they have a distinct importance in the movement of the piece, and represent the unintelligent, material resistance to the work of regeneration that prospero seeks to carry out, and which must be controlled by him, just as sebastian and antonio form the intelligent, designing resistance. the spirit world is there too, but they, like the former class, have no independent plot of their own, and no independent operation against mankind; they only represent the invisible forces over which prospero must assert control if he would insure success for his schemes. ariel is, perhaps, one of the most extraordinary of all shakspere's creations. he is, indeed, formed upon a basis half fairy, half devil, because it was only through the current notions upon demonology that shakspere could speak his ideas. but he certainly is not a fairy in the sense that puck is a fairy; and he is very far indeed from bearing even a slight resemblance to the familiars whom the magicians of the time professed to call from the vasty deep. he is indeed but air, as prospero says--the embodiment of an idea, the representative of those invisible forces which operate as factors in the shaping of events which, ignored, may prove resistant or fatal, but, properly controlled and guided, work for good.[ ] lastly, there are the heroes and heroine of the play, now no longer shadows, but the centres of interest and admiration, and assuming their due position and prominence. [footnote : it is difficult to accept mr. ruskin's view of ariel as "the spirit of generous and free-hearted service" (mun. pul. § ); he is throughout the play the more-than-half-unwilling agent of prospero.] . it is probable, therefore, that it is not merely a student's fancy that in prospero's storm-girt, spirit-haunted island can be seen shakspere's final and matured image of the mighty world. if this be so, how far more bright and hopeful it is than the verdict which mr. ruskin finds shakspere to have returned. man is no longer "a pipe for fortune's fingers to sound what stop she please." the evil elements still exist in the world, and are numerous and formidable; but man, by nobleness of life and word, by patience and self-mastery, can master them, bring them into subjection, and make them tend to eventual good. caliban, the gross, sensual, earthly element--though somewhat raised--would run riot, and is therefore compelled to menial service. the brute force of stephano and trinculo is vanquished by mental superiority. even the supermundane spirits, now no longer thirsting for the destruction of body and soul, are bound down to the work of carrying out the decrees of truth and justice. man is no longer the plaything, but the master of his fate; and he, seeing now the possible triumph of good over evil, and his duty to do his best in aid of this triumph, has no more fear of the dreams--the something after death. our little life is still rounded by a sleep, but the thought which terrifies hamlet has no power to affright prospero. the hereafter is still a mystery, it is true; he has tried to see into it, and has found it impenetrable. but revelation has come like an angel, with peace upon its wings, in another and an unexpected way. duty lies here, in and around him in this world. here he can right wrong, succour the weak, abase the proud, do something to make the world better than he found it; and in the performance of this he finds a holier calm than the vain strivings after the unknowable could ever afford. let him work while it is day, for "the night cometh, when no man can work." . it is not a piece of pure sentimentality that sees in prospero a type of shakspere in his final stage of thought. it is a type altogether as it should be; and it is pleasing to think of him, in the full maturity of his manhood, wrapping his seer's cloak about him, and, while waiting calmly the unfolding of the mystery which he has sought in vain to solve, watching with noble benevolence the gradual working out of truth, order, and justice. it is pleasing to think of him as speaking to the world the great christian doctrine so universally overlooked by christians, that the only remedy for sin demanded by eternal justice "is nothing but heart's sorrow, and a clear life ensuing"--a speech which, though uttered by ariel, is spoken by prospero, who himself beautifully iterates part of the doctrine when he says-- "the rarer action is in virtue than in vengeance: they being penitent, the sole drift of my purpose doth extend not a frown further."[ ] it is pleasant to dwell upon his sympathy with ferdinand and miranda--for the love of man and woman is pure and holy in this regenerate world: no more of troilus and cressida--upon his patient waiting for the evolution of his schemes; upon his faith in their ultimate success; and, above all, upon the majestic and unaffected reverence that appears indirectly in every line--"reverence," to adapt the words of the great teacher whose opinion about shakspere has been perhaps too rashly questioned, "for what is pure and bright in youth; for what is true and tried in age; for all that is gracious among the living, great among the dead, and marvellous in the powers that cannot die." [footnote : v. l. .] memoirs of extraordinary popular delusions by charles mackay author of "the thames and its tributaries," "the hope of the world," etc. "il est bon de connaitre les delires de l'esprit humain. chaque people a ses folies plus ou moins grossieres." millot vol i. london: richard bentley, new burlington street. publisher in ordinary to her majesty. . contents of the first volume the mississippi scheme the south sea bubble the tulipomania relics modern prophecies popular admiration for great thieves influence of politics and religion on the hair and beard duels and ordeals the love of the marvelous and the disbelief of the true popular follies in great cities the o. p. mania the thugs, or phansigars national delusions. n'en deplaise a ces fous nommes sages de grece; en ce monde il n'est point de parfaite sagesse; tous les hommes sont fous, et malgre tous leurs soins, ne different entre eux que du plus ou du moins. boileau. in reading the history of nations, we find that, like individuals, they have their whims and their peculiarities; their seasons of excitement and recklessness, when they care not what they do. we find that whole communities suddenly fix their minds upon one object, and go mad in its pursuit; that millions of people become simultaneously impressed with one delusion, and run after it, till their attention is caught by some new folly more captivating than the first. we see one nation suddenly seized, from its highest to its lowest members, with a fierce desire of military glory; another as suddenly becoming crazed upon a religious scruple, and neither of them recovering its senses until it has shed rivers of blood and sowed a harvest of groans and tears, to be reaped by its posterity. at an early age in the annals of europe its population lost their wits about the sepulchre of jesus, and crowded in frenzied multitudes to the holy land: another age went mad for fear of the devil, and offered up hundreds of thousands of victims to the delusion of witchcraft. at another time, the many became crazed on the subject of the philosopher's stone, and committed follies till then unheard of in the pursuit. it was once thought a venial offence in very many countries of europe to destroy an enemy by slow poison. persons who would have revolted at the idea of stabbing a man to the heart, drugged his pottage without scruple. ladies of gentle birth and manners caught the contagion of murder, until poisoning, under their auspices, became quite fashionable. some delusions, though notorious to all the world, have subsisted for ages, flourishing as widely among civilized and polished nations as among the early barbarians with whom they originated,--that of duelling, for instance, and the belief in omens and divination of the future, which seem to defy the progress of knowledge to eradicate entirely from the popular mind. money, again, has often been a cause of the delusion of multitudes. sober nations have all at once become desperate gamblers, and risked almost their existence upon the turn of a piece of paper. to trace the history of the most prominent of these delusions is the object of the present pages. men, it has been well said, think in herds; it will be seen that they go mad in herds, while they only recover their senses slowly, and one by one. in the present state of civilization, society has often shown itself very prone to run a career of folly from the last-mentioned cases. this infatuation has seized upon whole nations in a most extraordinary manner. france, with her mississippi madness, set the first great example, and was very soon imitated by england with her south sea bubble. at an earlier period, holland made herself still more ridiculous in the eyes of the world, by the frenzy which came over her people for the love of tulips. melancholy as all these delusions were in their ultimate results, their history is most amusing. a more ludicrous and yet painful spectacle, than that which holland presented in the years and , or france in and , can hardly be imagined. taking them in the order of their importance, we shall commence our history with john law and the famous mississippi scheme of the years above mentioned. the mississippi scheme some in clandestine companies combine; erect new stocks to trade beyond the line; with air and empty names beguile the town, and raise new credits first, then cry 'em down; divide the empty nothing into shares, and set the crowd together by the ears. defoe. the personal character and career of one man are so intimately connected with the great scheme of the years and , that a history of the mississippi madness can have no fitter introduction than a sketch of the life of its great author, john law. historians are divided in opinion as to whether they should designate him a knave or a madman. both epithets were unsparingly applied to him in his lifetime, and while the unhappy consequences of his projects were still deeply felt. posterity, however, has found reason to doubt the justice of the accusation, and to confess that john law was neither knave nor madman, but one more deceived than deceiving; more sinned against than sinning. he was thoroughly acquainted with the philosophy and true principles of credit. he understood the monetary question better than any man of his day; and if his system fell with a crash so tremendous, it was not so much his fault as that of the people amongst whom he had erected it. he did not calculate upon the avaricious frenzy of a whole nation; he did not see that confidence, like mistrust, could be increased, almost ad infinitum, and that hope was as extravagant as fear. how was he to foretell that the french people, like the man in the fable, would kill, in their frantic eagerness, the fine goose he had brought to lay them so many golden eggs? his fate was like that which may be supposed to have overtaken the first adventurous boatman who rowed from erie to ontario. broad and smooth was the river on which he embarked; rapid and pleasant was his progress; and who was to stay him in his career? alas for him! the cataract was nigh. he saw, when it was too late, that the tide which wafted him so joyously along was a tide of destruction; and when he endeavoured to retrace his way, he found that the current was too strong for his weak efforts to stem, and that he drew nearer every instant to the tremendous falls. down he went over the sharp rocks, and the waters with him. he was dashed to pieces with his bark, but the waters, maddened and turned to foam by the rough descent, only boiled and bubbled for a time, and then flowed on again as smoothly as ever. just so it was with law and the french people. he was the boatman and they were the waters. john law was born at edinburgh in the year . his father was the younger son of an ancient family in fife, and carried on the business of a goldsmith and banker. he amassed considerable wealth in his trade, sufficient to enable him to gratify the wish, so common among his countrymen, of adding a territorial designation to his name. he purchased with this view the estates of lauriston and randleston, on the frith of forth on the borders of west and mid lothian, and was thenceforth known as law of lauriston. the subject of our memoir, being the eldest son, was received into his father's counting-house at the age of fourteen, and for three years laboured hard to acquire an insight into the principles of banking, as then carried on in scotland. he had always manifested great love for the study of numbers, and his proficiency in the mathematics was considered extraordinary in one of his tender years. at the age of seventeen he was tall, strong, and well made; and his face, although deeply scarred with the small-pox, was agreeable in its expression, and full of intelligence. at this time he began to neglect his business, and becoming vain of his person, indulged in considerable extravagance of attire. he was a great favourite with the ladies, by whom he was called beau law, while the other sex, despising his foppery, nicknamed him jessamy john. at the death of his father, which happened in , he withdrew entirely from the desk, which had become so irksome, and being possessed of the revenues of the paternal estate of lauriston, he proceeded to london, to see the world. he was now very young, very vain, good-looking, tolerably rich, and quite uncontrolled. it is no wonder that, on his arrival in the capital, he should launch out into extravagance. he soon became a regular frequenter of the gaming-houses, and by pursuing a certain plan, based upon some abstruse calculation of chances, he contrived to gain considerable sums. all the gamblers envied him his luck, and many made it a point to watch his play, and stake their money on the same chances. in affairs of gallantry he was equally fortunate; ladies of the first rank smiled graciously upon the handsome scotchman--the young, the rich, the witty, and the obliging. but all these successes only paved the way for reverses. after he had been for nine years exposed to the dangerous attractions of the gay life he was leading, he became an irrecoverable gambler. as his love of play increased in violence, it diminished in prudence. great losses were only to be repaired by still greater ventures, and one unhappy day he lost more than he could repay without mortgaging his family estate. to that step he was driven at last. at the same time his gallantry brought him into trouble. a love affair, or slight flirtation, with a lady of the name of villiers [miss elizabeth villiers, afterwards countess of orkney] exposed him to the resentment of a mr. wilson, by whom he was challenged to fight a duel. law accepted, and had the ill fortune to shoot his antagonist dead upon the spot. he was arrested the same day, and brought to trial for murder by the relatives of mr. wilson. he was afterwards found guilty, and sentenced to death. the sentence was commuted to a fine, upon the ground that the offence only amounted to manslaughter. an appeal being lodged by a brother of the deceased, law was detained in the king's bench, whence, by some means or other, which he never explained, he contrived to escape; and an action being instituted against the sheriffs, he was advertised in the gazette, and a reward offered for his apprehension. he was described as "captain john law, a scotchman, aged twenty-six; a very tall, black, lean man; well shaped, above six feet high, with large pockholes in his face; big nosed, and speaking broad and loud." as this was rather a caricature than a description of him, it has been supposed that it was drawn up with a view to favour his escape. he succeeded in reaching the continent, where he travelled for three years, and devoted much of his attention to the monetary and banking affairs of the countries through which he passed. he stayed a few months in amsterdam, and speculated to some extent in the funds. his mornings were devoted to the study of finance and the principles of trade, and his evenings to the gaming-house. it is generally believed that he returned to edinburgh in the year . it is certain that he published in that city his "proposals and reasons for constituting a council of trade." this pamphlet did not excite much attention. in a short time afterwards he published a project for establishing what he called a land-bank [the wits of the day called it a sand-bank, which would wreck the vessel of the state.], the notes issued by which were never to exceed the value of the entire lands of the state, upon ordinary interest, or were to be equal in value to the land, with the right to enter into possession at a certain time. the project excited a good deal of discussion in the scottish parliament, and a motion for the establishment of such a bank was brought forward by a neutral party, called the squadrone, whom law had interested in his favour. the parliament ultimately passed a resolution to the effect, that, to establish any kind of paper credit, so as to force it to pass, was an improper expedient for the nation. upon the failure of this project, and of his efforts to procure a pardon for the murder of mr. wilson, law withdrew to the continent, and resumed his old habits of gaming. for fourteen years he continued to roam about, in flanders, holland, germany, hungary, italy, and france. he soon became intimately acquainted with the extent of the trade and resources of each, and daily more confirmed in his opinion that no country could prosper without a paper currency. during the whole of this time he appears to have chiefly supported himself by successful play. at every gambling-house of note in the capitals of europe, he was known and appreciated as one better skilled in the intricacies of chance than any other man of the day. it is stated in the "biographie universelle" that he was expelled, first from venice, and afterwards from genoa, by the magistrates, who thought him a visitor too dangerous for the youth of those cities. during his residence in paris he rendered himself obnoxious to d'argenson, the lieutenant-general of the police, by whom he was ordered to quit the capital. this did not take place, however, before he had made the acquaintance in the saloons, of the duke de vendome, the prince de conti, and of the gay duke of orleans, the latter of whom was destined afterwards to exercise so much influence over his fate. the duke of orleans was pleased with the vivacity and good sense of the scottish adventurer, while the latter was no less pleased with the wit and amiability of a prince who promised to become his patron. they were often thrown into each other's society, and law seized every opportunity to instil his financial doctrines into the mind of one whose proximity to the throne pointed him out as destined, at no very distant date, to play an important part in the government. shortly before the death of louis xiv, or, as some say, in , law proposed a scheme of finance to desmarets, the comptroller. louis is reported to have inquired whether the projector were a catholic, and, on being answered in the negative, to have declined having anything to do with him. [this anecdote, which is related in the correspondence of madame de baviere, duchess of orleans, and mother of the regent, is discredited by lord john russell, in his "history of the principal states of europe, from the peace of utrecht;" for what reason he does not inform us. there is no doubt that law proposed his scheme to desmarets, and that louis refused to hear of it. the reason given for the refusal is quite consistent with the character of that bigoted and tyrannical monarch.] it was after this repulse that he visited italy. his mind being still occupied with schemes of finance, he proposed to victor amadeus, duke of savoy, to establish his land-bank in that country. the duke replied that his dominions were too circumscribed for the execution of so great a project, and that he was by far too poor a potentate to be ruined. he advised him, however, to try the king of france once more; for he was sure, if he knew anything of the french character, that the people would be delighted with a plan, not only so new, but so plausible. louis xiv died in , and the heir to the throne being an infant only seven years of age, the duke of orleans assumed the reins of government, as regent, during his minority. law now found himself in a more favourable position. the tide in his affairs had come, which, taken at the flood, was to waft him on to fortune. the regent was his friend, already acquainted with his theory and pretensions, and inclined, moreover, to aid him in any efforts to restore the wounded credit of france, bowed down to the earth by the extravagance of the long reign of louis xiv. hardly was that monarch laid in his grave ere the popular hatred, suppressed so long, burst forth against his memory. he who, during his life, had been flattered with an excess of adulation, to which history scarcely offers a parallel, was now cursed as a tyrant, a bigot, and a plunderer. his statues were pelted and disfigured; his effigies torn down, amid the execrations of the populace, and his name rendered synonymous with selfishness and oppression. the glory of his arms was forgotten, and nothing was remembered but his reverses, his extravagance, and his cruelty. the finances of the country were in a state of the utmost disorder. a profuse and corrupt monarch, whose profuseness and corruption were imitated by almost every functionary, from the highest to the lowest grade, had brought france to the verge of ruin. the national debt amounted to millions of livres, the revenue to millions, and the expenditure to millions per annum; leaving only three millions to pay the interest upon millions. the first care of the regent was to discover a remedy for an evil of such magnitude, and a council was early summoned to take the matter into consideration. the duke de st. simon was of opinion that nothing could save the country from revolution but a remedy at once bold and dangerous. he advised the regent to convoke the states-general, and declare a national bankruptcy. the duke de noailles, a man of accommodating principles, an accomplished courtier, and totally averse from giving himself any trouble or annoyance that ingenuity could escape from, opposed the project of st. simon with all his influence. he represented the expedient as alike dishonest and ruinous. the regent was of the same opinion, and this desperate remedy fell to the ground. the measures ultimately adopted, though they promised fair, only aggravated the evil. the first, and most dishonest measure, was of no advantage to the state. a recoinage was ordered, by which the currency was depreciated one-fifth; those who took a thousand pieces of gold or silver to the mint received back an amount of coin of the same nominal value, but only four-fifths of the weight of metal. by this contrivance the treasury gained seventy-two millions of livres, and all the commercial operations of the country were disordered. a trifling diminution of the taxes silenced the clamours of the people, and for the slight present advantage the great prospective evil was forgotten. a chamber of justice was next instituted, to inquire into the malversations of the loan-contractors and the farmers of the revenues. tax collectors are never very popular in any country, but those of france at this period deserved all the odium with which they were loaded. as soon as these farmers-general, with all their hosts of subordinate agents, called maltotiers [from maltote, an oppressive tax.], were called to account for their misdeeds, the most extravagant joy took possession of the nation. the chamber of justice, instituted chiefly for this purpose, was endowed with very extensive powers. it was composed of the presidents and councils of the parliament, the judges of the courts of aid and of requests, and the officers of the chamber of account, under the general presidence of the minister of finance. informers were encouraged to give evidence against the offenders by the promise of one-fifth part of the fines and confiscations. a tenth of all concealed effects belonging to the guilty was promised to such as should furnish the means of discovering them. the promulgation of the edict constituting this court caused a degree of consternation among those principally concerned which can only be accounted for on the supposition that their peculation had been enormous. but they met with no sympathy. the proceedings against them justified their terror. the bastile was soon unable to contain the prisoners that were sent to it, and the gaols all over the country teemed with guilty or suspected persons. an order was issued to all innkeepers and postmasters to refuse horses to such as endeavoured to seek safety in flight; and all persons were forbidden, under heavy fines, to harbour them or favour their evasion. some were condemned to the pillory, others to the gallies, and the least guilty to fine and imprisonment. one only, samuel bernard, a rich banker, and farmer-general of a province remote from the capital, was sentenced to death. so great had been the illegal profits of this man,--looked upon as the tyrant and oppressor of his district,--that he offered six millions of livres, or , pounds sterling, to be allowed to escape. his bribe was refused, and he suffered the penalty of death. others, perhaps more guilty, were more fortunate. confiscation, owing to the concealment of their treasures by the delinquents, often produced less money than a fine. the severity of the government relaxed, and fines, under the denomination of taxes, were indiscriminately levied upon all offenders. but so corrupt was every department of the administration, that the country benefited but little by the sums which thus flowed into the treasury. courtiers, and courtiers' wives and mistresses, came in for the chief share of the spoils. one contractor had been taxed in proportion to his wealth and guilt, at the sum of twelve millions of livres. the count * * *, a man of some weight in the government, called upon him, and offered to procure a remission of the fine, if he would give him a hundred thousand crowns. "vous etes trop tard, mon ami," replied the financier; "i have already made a bargain with your wife for fifty thousand." [this anecdote is related by m. de la hode, in his life of philippe of orleans. it would have looked more authentic if he had given the names of the dishonest contractor and the still more dishonest minister. but m. de la hode's book is liable to the same objection as most of the french memoirs of that and of subsequent periods. it is sufficient with most of them that an anecdote be ben trovato; the veto is but matter of secondary consideration.] about a hundred and eighty millions of livres were levied in this manner, of which eighty were applied in payment of the debts contracted by the government. the remainder found its way into the pockets of the courtiers. madame de maintenon, writing on this subject, says, "we hear every day of some new grant of the regent; the people murmur very much at this mode of employing the money taken from the peculators." the people, who, after the first burst of their resentment is over, generally express a sympathy for the weak, were indignant that so much severity should be used to so little purpose. they did not see the justice of robbing one set of rogues to fatten another. in a few months all the more guilty had been brought to punishment, and the chamber of justice looked for victims in humbler walks of life. charges of fraud and extortion were brought against tradesmen of good character, in consequence of the great inducements held out to common informers. they were compelled to lay open their affairs before this tribunal in order to establish their innocence. the voice of complaint resounded from every side, and at the expiration of a year the government found it advisable to discontinue further proceedings. the chamber of justice was suppressed, and a general amnesty granted to all against whom no charges had yet been preferred. in the midst of this financial confusion law appeared upon the scene. no man felt more deeply than the regent the deplorable state of the country, but no man could be more averse from putting his shoulders manfully to the wheel. he disliked business; he signed official documents without proper examination, and trusted to others what he should have undertaken himself. the cares inseparable from his high office were burdensome to him; he saw that something was necessary to be done, but he lacked the energy to do it, and had not virtue enough to sacrifice his case and his pleasures in the attempt. no wonder that, with this character, he listened favourably to the mighty projects, so easy of execution, of the clever adventurer whom he had formerly known, and whose talents he appreciated. when law presented himself at court, he was most cordially received. he offered two memorials to the regent, in which he set forth the evils that had befallen france, owing to an insufficient currency, at different times depreciated. he asserted that a metallic currency, unaided by a paper money, was wholly inadequate to the wants of a commercial country, and particularly cited the examples of great britain and holland to show the advantages of paper. he used many sound arguments on the subject of credit, and proposed, as a means of restoring that of france, then at so low an ebb among the nations, that he should be allowed to set up a bank, which should have the management of the royal revenues, and issue notes, both on that and on landed security. he further proposed that this bank should be administered in the king's name, but subject to the control of commissioners, to be named by the states-general. while these memorials were under consideration, law translated into french his essay on money and trade, and used every means to extend through the nation his renown as a financier. he soon became talked of. the confidants of the regent spread abroad his praise, and every one expected great things of monsieur lass. [the french pronounced his name in this manner to avoid the ungallic sound, aw. after the failure of his scheme, the wags said the nation was lasse de lui, and proposed that he should in future be known by the name of monsieur helas!] on the th of may, , a royal edict was published, by which law was authorised, in conjunction with his brother, to establish a bank, under the name of law and company, the notes of which should be received in payment of the taxes. the capital was fixed at six millions of livres, in twelve thousand shares of five hundred livres each, purchasable one-fourth in specie and the remainder in billets d'etat. it was not thought expedient to grant him the whole of the privileges prayed for in his memorials until experience should have shown their safety and advantage. law was now on the high road to fortune. the study of thirty years was brought to guide him in the management of his bank. he made all his notes payable at sight, and in the coin current at the time they were issued. this last was a master-stroke of policy, and immediately rendered his notes more valuable than the precious metals. the latter were constantly liable to depreciation by the unwise tampering of the government. a thousand livres of silver might be worth their nominal value one day and be reduced one-sixth the next, but a note of law's bank retained its original value. he publicly declared at the same time that a banker deserved death if he made issues without having sufficient security to answer all demands. the consequence was, that his notes advanced rapidly in public estimation, and were received at one per cent. more than specie. it was not long before the trade of the country felt the benefit. languishing commerce began to lift up her head; the taxes were paid with greater regularity and less murmuring, and a degree of confidence was established that could not fail, if it continued, to become still more advantageous. in the course of a year law's notes rose to fifteen per cent. premium, while the billets d'etat, or notes issued by the government, as security for the debts contracted by the extravagant louis xiv, were at a discount of no less than seventy-eight and a half per cent. the comparison was too great in favour of law not to attract the attention of the whole kingdom, and his credit extended itself day by day. branches of his bank were almost simultaneously established at lyons, rochelle, tours, amiens, and orleans. the regent appears to have been utterly astonished at his success, and gradually to have conceived the idea, that paper, which could so aid a metallic currency, could entirely supersede it. upon this fundamental error he afterwards acted. in the mean time, law commenced the famous project which has handed his name down to posterity. he proposed to the regent, who could refuse him nothing, to establish a company, that should have the exclusive privilege of trading to the great river mississippi and the province of louisiana, on its western bank. the country was supposed to abound in the precious metals, and the company, supported by the profits of their exclusive commerce, were to be the sole farmers of the taxes, and sole coiners of money. letters patent were issued, incorporating the company, in august . the capital was divided into two hundred thousand shares of five hundred livres each, the whole of which might be paid in billets d'etat, at their nominal value, although worth no more than livres in the market. it was now that the frenzy of speculating began to seize upon the nation. law's bank had effected so much good, that any promises for the future which he thought proper to make were readily believed. the regent every day conferred new privileges upon the fortunate projector. the bank obtained the monopoly of the sale of tobacco; the sole right of refinage of gold and silver, and was finally erected into the royal bank of france. amid the intoxication of success, both law and the regent forgot the maxim so loudly proclaimed by the former, that a banker deserved death who made issues of paper without the necessary funds to provide for them. as soon as the bank, from a private, became a public institution, the regent caused a fabrication of notes to the amount of one thousand millions of livres. this was the first departure from sound principles, and one for which law is not justly blameable. while the affairs of the bank were under his control, the issues had never exceeded sixty millions. whether law opposed the inordinate increase is not known, but as it took place as soon as the bank was made a royal establishment, it is but fair to lay the blame of the change of system upon the regent. law found that he lived under a despotic government, but he was not yet aware of the pernicious influence which such a government could exercise upon so delicate a framework as that of credit. he discovered it afterwards to his cost, but in the mean time suffered himself to be impelled by the regent into courses which his own reason must have disapproved. with a weakness most culpable, he lent his aid in inundating the country with paper money, which, based upon no solid foundation, was sure to fall, sooner or later. the extraordinary present fortune dazzled his eyes, and prevented him from seeing the evil day that would burst over his head, when once, from any cause or other, the alarm was sounded. the parliament were from the first jealous of his influence as a foreigner, and had, besides, their misgivings as to the safety of his projects. as his influence extended, their animosity increased. d'aguesseau, the chancellor, was unceremoniously dismissed by the regent for his opposition to the vast increase of paper money, and the constant depreciation of the gold and silver coin of the realm. this only served to augment the enmity of the parliament, and when d'argenson, a man devoted to the interests of the regent, was appointed to the vacant chancellorship, and made at the same time minister of finance, they became more violent than ever. the first measure of the new minister caused a further depreciation of the coin. in order to extinguish the billets d'etat, it was ordered that persons bringing to the mint four thousand livres in specie and one thousand livres in billets d'etat, should receive back coin to the amount of five thousand livres. d'argenson plumed himself mightily upon thus creating five thousand new and smaller livres out of the four thousand old and larger ones, being too ignorant of the true principles of trade and credit to be aware of the immense injury he was inflicting upon both. the parliament saw at once the impolicy and danger of such a system, and made repeated remonstrances to the regent. the latter refused to entertain their petitions, when the parliament, by a bold, and very unusual stretch of authority, commanded that no money should be received in payment but that of the old standard. the regent summoned a lit de justice, and annulled the decree. the parliament resisted, and issued another. again the regent exercised his privilege, and annulled it, till the parliament, stung to fiercer opposition, passed another decree, dated august th, , by which they forbade the bank of law to have any concern, either direct or indirect, in the administration of the revenue; and prohibited all foreigners, under heavy penalties, from interfering, either in their own names, or in that of others, in the management of the finances of the state. the parliament considered law to be the author of all the evil, and some of the counsellors, in the virulence of their enmity, proposed that he should be brought to trial, and, if found guilty, be hung at the gates of the palais de justice. law, in great alarm, fled to the palais royal, and threw himself on the protection of the regent, praying that measures might be taken to reduce the parliament to obedience. the regent had nothing so much at heart, both on that account and because of the disputes that had arisen relative to the legitimation of the duke of maine and the count of thoulouse, the sons of the late king. the parliament was ultimately overawed by the arrest of their president and two of the counsellors, who were sent to distant prisons. thus the first cloud upon law's prospects blew over: freed from apprehension of personal danger, he devoted his attention to his famous mississippi project, the shares of which were rapidly rising, in spite of the parliament. at the commencement of the year an edict was published, granting to the mississippi company the exclusive privilege of trading to the east indies, china, and the south seas, and to all the possessions of the french east india company, established by colbert. the company, in consequence of this great increase of their business, assumed, as more appropriate, the title of company of the indies, and created fifty thousand new shares. the prospects now held out by law were most magnificent. he promised a yearly dividend of two hundred livres upon each share of five hundred, which, as the shares were paid for in billets d'etat, at their nominal value, but worth only livres, was at the rate of about per cent. profit. the public enthusiasm, which had been so long rising, could not resist a vision so splendid. at least three hundred thousand applications were made for the fifty thousand new shares, and law's house in the rue de quincampoix was beset from morning to night by the eager applicants. as it was impossible to satisfy them all, it was several weeks before a list of the fortunate new stockholders could be made out, during which time the public impatience rose to a pitch of frenzy. dukes, marquises, counts, with their duchesses, marchionesses, and countesses, waited in the streets for hours every day before mr. law's door to know the result. at last, to avoid the jostling of the plebeian crowd, which, to the number of thousands, filled the whole thoroughfare, they took apartments in the adjoining houses, that they might be continually near the temple whence the new plutus was diffusing wealth. every day the value of the old shares increased, and the fresh applications, induced by the golden dreams of the whole nation, became so numerous that it was deemed advisable to create no less than three hundred thousand new shares, at five thousand livres each, in order that the regent might take advantage of the popular enthusiasm to pay off the national debt. for this purpose, the sum of fifteen hundred millions of livres was necessary. such was the eagerness of the nation, that thrice the sum would have been subscribed if the government had authorised it. law was now at the zenith of his prosperity, and the people were rapidly approaching the zenith of their infatuation. the highest and the lowest classes were alike filled with a vision of boundless wealth. there was not a person of note among the aristocracy, with the exception of the duke of st. simon and marshal villars, who was not engaged in buying or selling stock. people of every age and sex, and condition in life, speculated in the rise and fall of the mississippi bonds. the rue de quincampoix was the grand resort of the jobbers, and it being a narrow, inconvenient street, accidents continually occurred in it, from the tremendous pressure of the crowd. houses in it, worth, in ordinary times, a thousand livres of yearly rent, yielded as much as twelve or sixteen thousand. a cobbler, who had a stall in it, gained about two hundred livres a day by letting it out, and furnishing writing materials to brokers and their clients. the story goes, that a hump-backed man who stood in the street gained considerable sums by lending his hump as a writing-desk to the eager speculators! the great concourse of persons who assembled to do business brought a still greater concourse of spectators. these again drew all the thieves and immoral characters of paris to the spot, and constant riots and disturbances took place. at nightfall, it was often found necessary to send a troop of soldiers to clear the street. law, finding the inconvenience of his residence, removed to the place vendome, whither the crowd of agioteurs followed him. that spacious square soon became as thronged as the rue de quincampoix: from morning to night it presented the appearance of a fair. booths and tents were erected for the transaction of business and the sale of refreshments, and gamblers with their roulette tables stationed themselves in the very middle of the place, and reaped a golden, or rather a paper, harvest from the throng. the boulevards and public gardens were forsaken; parties of pleasure took their walks in preference in the place vendome, which became the fashionable lounge of the idle, as well as the general rendezvous of the busy. the noise was so great all day, that the chancellor, whose court was situated in the square, complained to the regent and the municipality, that he could not hear the advocates. law, when applied to, expressed his willingness to aid in the removal of the nuisance, and for this purpose entered into a treaty with the prince de carignan for the hotel de soissons, which had a garden of several acres in the rear. a bargain was concluded, by which law became the purchaser of the hotel, at an enormous price, the prince reserving to himself the magnificent gardens as a new source of profit. they contained some fine statues and several fountains, and were altogether laid out with much taste. as soon as law was installed in his new abode, an edict was published, forbidding all persons to buy or sell stock anywhere but in the gardens of the hotel de soissons. in the midst among the trees, about five hundred small tents and pavilions were erected, for the convenience of the stock-jobbers. their various colours, the gay ribands and banners which floated from them, the busy crowds which passed continually in and out--the incessant hum of voices, the noise, the music, and the strange mixture of business and pleasure on the countenances of the throng, all combined to give the place an air of enchantment that quite enraptured the parisians. the prince de carignan made enormous profits while the delusion lasted. each tent was let at the rate of five hundred livres a month; and, as there were at least five hundred of them, his monthly revenue from this source alone must have amounted to , livres, or upwards of , pounds sterling. the honest old soldier, marshal villars, was so vexed to see the folly which had smitten his countrymen, that he never could speak with temper on the subject. passing one day through the place vendome in his carriage, the choleric gentleman was so annoyed at the infatuation of the people, that he abruptly ordered his coachman to stop, and, putting his head out of the carriage window, harangued them for full half an hour on their "disgusting avarice." this was not a very wise proceeding on his part. hisses and shouts of laughter resounded from every side, and jokes without number were aimed at him. there being at last strong symptoms that something more tangible was flying through the air in the direction of his head, marshal was glad to drive on. he never again repeated the experiment. two sober, quiet, and philosophic men of letters, m. de la motte and the abbe terrason, congratulated each other, that they, at least, were free from this strange infatuation. a few days afterwards, as the worthy abbe was coming out of the hotel de soissons, whither he had gone to buy shares in the mississippi, whom should he see but his friend la motte entering for the same purpose. "ha!" said the abbe, smiling, "is that you?" "yes," said la motte, pushing past him as fast as he was able; "and can that be you?" the next time the two scholars met, they talked of philosophy, of science, and of religion, but neither had courage for a long time to breathe one syllable about the mississippi. at last, when it was mentioned, they agreed that a man ought never to swear against his doing any one thing, and that there was no sort of extravagance of which even a wise man was not capable. during this time, law, the new plutus, had become all at once the most important personage of the state. the ante-chambers of the regent were forsaken by the courtiers. peers, judges, and bishops thronged to the hotel de soissons; officers of the army and navy, ladies of title and fashion, and every one to whom hereditary rank or public employ gave a claim to precedence, were to be found waiting in his ante-chambers to beg for a portion of his india stock. law was so pestered that he was unable to see one-tenth part of the applicants, and every manoeuvre that ingenuity could suggest was employed to gain access to him. peers, whose dignity would have been outraged if the regent had made them wait half an hour for an interview, were content to wait six hours for the chance of seeing monsieur law. enormous fees were paid to his servants, if they would merely announce their names. ladies of rank employed the blandishments of their smiles for the same object; but many of them came day after day for a fortnight before they could obtain an audience. when law accepted an invitation, he was sometimes so surrounded by ladies, all asking to have their names put down in his lists as shareholders in the new stock, that, in spite of his well-known and habitual gallantry, he was obliged to tear himself away par force. the most ludicrous stratagems were employed to have an opportunity of speaking to him. one lady, who had striven in vain during several days, gave up in despair all attempts to see him at his own house, but ordered her coachman to keep a strict watch whenever she was out in her carriage, and if he saw mr. law coming, to drive against a post, and upset her. the coachman promised obedience, and for three days the lady was driven incessantly through the town, praying inwardly for the opportunity to be overturned. at last she espied mr. law, and, pulling the string, called out to the coachman, "upset us now! for god's sake, upset us now!" the coachman drove against a post, the lady screamed, the coach was overturned, and law, who had seen the accident, hastened to the spot to render assistance. the cunning dame was led into the hotel de soissons, where she soon thought it advisable to recover from her fright, and, after apologizing to mr. law, confessed her stratagem. law smiled, and entered the lady in his books as the purchaser of a quantity of india stock. another story is told of a madame de boucha, who, knowing that mr. law was at dinner at a certain house, proceeded thither in her carriage, and gave the alarm of fire. the company started from table, and law among the rest; but, seeing one lady making all haste into the house towards him, while everybody else was scampering away, he suspected the trick, and ran off in another direction. many other anecdotes are related, which even, though they may be a little exaggerated, are nevertheless worth preserving, as showing the spirit of that singular period. [the curious reader may find an anecdote of the eagerness of the french ladies to retain law in their company, which will make him blush or smile according as he happens to be very modest or the reverse. it is related in the letters of madame charlotte elizabeth de baviere, duchess of orleans, vol. ii. p. .] the regent was one day mentioning, in the presence of d'argenson, the abbe dubois, and some other persons, that he was desirous of deputing some lady, of the rank at least of a duchess, to attend upon his daughter at modena; "but," added he, "i do not exactly know where to find one." "no!" replied one, in affected surprise; "i can tell you where to find every duchess in france:--you have only to go to mr. law's; you will see them every one in his ante-chamber." m. de chirac, a celebrated physician, had bought stock at an unlucky period, and was very anxious to sell out. stock, however continued to fall for two or three days, much to his alarm. his mind was filled with the subject, when he was suddenly called upon to attend a lady, who imagined herself unwell. he arrived, was shown up stairs, and felt the lady's pulse. "it falls! it falls! good god! it falls continually!" said he, musingly, while the lady looked up in his face, all anxiety for his opinion. "oh! m. de chirac," said she, starting to her feet, and ringing the bell for assistance; "i am dying! i am dying! it falls! it falls! it falls!" "what falls?" inquired the doctor, in amazement. "my pulse! my pulse!" said the lady; "i must be dying." "calm your apprehensions, my dear madam," said m. de chirac; "i was speaking of the stocks. the truth is, i have been a great loser, and my mind is so disturbed, i hardly know what i have been saying." the price of shares sometimes rose ten or twenty per cent. in the course of a few hours, and many persons in the humbler walks of life, who had risen poor in the morning, went to bed in affluence. an extensive holder of stock, being taken ill, sent his servant to sell two hundred and fifty shares, at eight thousand livres each, the price at which they were then quoted. the servant went, and, on his arrival in the jardin de soissons, found that in the interval the price had risen to ten thousand livres. the difference of two thousand livres on the two hundred and fifty shares, amounting to , livres, or , pounds sterling, he very coolly transferred to his own use, and, giving the remainder to his master, set out the same evening for another country. law's coachman in a very short time made money enough to set up a carriage of his own, and requested permission to leave his service. law, who esteemed the man, begged of him as a favour, that he would endeavour, before he went, to find a substitute as good as himself. the coachman consented, and in the evening brought two of his former comrades, telling mr. law to choose between them, and he would take the other. cookmaids and footmen were now and then as lucky, and, in the full-blown pride of their easily-acquired wealth, made the most ridiculous mistakes. preserving the language and manners of their old, with the finery of their new station, they afforded continual subjects for the pity of the sensible, the contempt of the sober, and the laughter of everybody. but the folly and meanness of the higher ranks of society were still more disgusting. one instance alone, related by the duke de st. simon, will show the unworthy avarice which infected the whole of society. a man of the name of andre, without character or education, had, by a series of well-timed speculations in mississippi bonds, gained enormous wealth, in an incredibly short space of time. as st. simon expresses it, "he had amassed mountains of gold." as he became rich, he grew ashamed of the lowness of his birth, and anxious above all things to be allied to nobility. he had a daughter, an infant only three years of age, and he opened a negotiation with the aristocratic and needy family of d'oyse, that this child should, upon certain conditions, marry a member of that house. the marquis d'oyse, to his shame, consented, and promised to marry her himself on her attaining the age of twelve, if the father would pay him down the sum of a hundred thousand crowns, and twenty thousand livres every year, until the celebration of the marriage. the marquis was himself in his thirty-third year. this scandalous bargain was duly signed and sealed, the stockjobber furthermore agreeing to settle upon his daughter, on the marriage-day, a fortune of several millions. the duke of brancas, the head of the family, was present throughout the negotiation, and shared in all the profits. st. simon, who treats the matter with the levity becoming what he thought so good a joke, adds, "that people did not spare their animadversions on this beautiful marriage," and further informs us, "that the project fell to the ground some months afterwards by the overthrow of law, and the ruin of the ambitious monsieur andre." it would appear, however, that the noble family never had the honesty to return the hundred thousand crowns. amid events like these, which, humiliating though they be, partake largely of the ludicrous, others occurred of a more serious nature. robberies in the streets were of daily occurrence, in consequence of the immense sums, in paper, which people carried about with them. assassinations were also frequent. one case in particular fixed the attention of the whole of france, not only on account of the enormity of the offence, but of the rank and high connexions of the criminal. the count d'horn, a younger brother of the prince d'horn, and related to the noble families of d'aremberg, de ligne, and de montmorency, was a young man of dissipated character, extravagant to a degree, and unprincipled as he was extravagant. in connexion with two other young men as reckless as himself, named mille, a piedmontese captain, and one destampes, or lestang, a fleming, he formed a design to rob a very rich broker, who was known, unfortunately for himself, to carry great sums about his person. the count pretended a desire to purchase of him a number of shares in the company of the indies, and for that purpose appointed to meet him in a cabaret, or low public-house, in the neighbourhood of the place vendome. the unsuspecting broker was punctual to his appointment; so were the count d'horn and his two associates, whom he introduced as his particular friends. after a few moments' conversation, the count d'horn suddenly sprang upon his victim, and stabbed him three times in the breast with a poniard. the man fell heavily to the ground, and, while the count was employed in rifling his portfolio of bonds in the mississippi and indian schemes to the amount of one hundred thousand crowns, mille, the piedmontese, stabbed the unfortunate broker again and again, to make sure of his death. but the broker did not fall without a struggle, and his cries brought the people of the cabaret to his assistance. lestang, the other assassin, who had been set to keep watch at a staircase, sprang from a window and escaped; but mille and the count d'horn were seized in the very act. this crime, committed in open day, and in so public a place as a cabaret, filled paris with consternation. the trial of the assassins commenced on the following day, and the evidence being so clear, they were both found guilty and condemned to be broken alive on the wheel. the noble relatives of the count d'horn absolutely blocked up the ante-chambers of the regent, praying for mercy on the misguided youth, and alleging that he was insane. the regent avoided them as long as possible, being determined that, in a case so atrocious, justice should take its course; but the importunity of these influential suitors was not to be overcome so silently, and they at last forced themselves into the presence of the regent, and prayed him to save their house the shame of a public execution. they hinted that the princes d'horn were allied to the illustrious family of orleans, and added that the regent himself would be disgraced if a kinsman of his should die by the hands of a common executioner. the regent, to his credit, was proof against all their solicitations, and replied to their last argument in the words of corneille,-- "le crime fait la honte, et non pas l'echafaud:" adding, that whatever shame there might be in the punishment he would very willingly share with the other relatives. day after day they renewed their entreaties, but always with the same result. at last they thought that if they could interest the duke de st. simon in their layout, a man for whom the regent felt sincere esteem, they might succeed in their object. the duke, a thorough aristocrat, was as shocked as they were, that a noble assassin should die by the same death as a plebeian felon, and represented to the regent the impolicy of making enemies of so numerous, wealthy, and powerful a family. he urged, too, that in germany, where the family of d'aremberg had large possessions, it was the law, that no relative of a person broken on the wheel could succeed to any public office or employ until a whole generation had passed away. for this reason he thought the punishment of the guilty count might be transmuted into beheading, which was considered all over europe as much less infamous. the regent was moved by this argument, and was about to consent, when law, who felt peculiarly interested in the fate of the murdered man, confirmed him in his former resolution, to let the law take its course. the relatives of d'horn were now reduced to the last extremity. the prince de robec montmorency, despairing of other methods, found means to penetrate into the dungeon of the criminal, and offering him a cup of poison, implored him to save them from disgrace. the count d'horn turned away his head, and refused to take it. montmorency pressed him once more, and losing all patience at his continued refusal, turned on his heel, and exclaiming, "die, then, as thou wilt, mean-spirited wretch! thou art fit only to perish by the hands of the hangman!" left him to his fate. d'horn himself petitioned the regent that he might be beheaded, but law, who exercised more influence over his mind than any other person, with the exception of the notorious abbe dubois, his tutor, insisted that he could not in justice succumb to the self-interested views of the d'horns. the regent had from the first been of the same opinion, and within six days after the commission of their crime, d'horn and mille were broken on the wheel in the place de greve. the other assassin, lestang, was never apprehended. this prompt and severe justice was highly pleasing to the populace of paris; even m. de quincampoix, as they called law, came in for a share of their approbation for having induced the regent to show no favour to a patrician. but the number of robberies and assassinations did not diminish. no sympathy was shown for rich jobbers when they were plundered: the general laxity of public morals, conspicuous enough before, was rendered still more so by its rapid pervasion of the middle classes, who had hitherto remained comparatively pure, between the open vices of the class above and the hidden crimes of the class below them. the pernicious love of gambling diffused itself through society, and bore all public, and nearly all private, virtue before it. for a time, while confidence lasted, an impetus was given to trade, which could not fail to be beneficial. in paris, especially, the good results were felt. strangers flocked into the capital from every part, bent, not only upon making money, but on spending it. the duchess of orleans, mother of the regent, computes the increase of the population during this time, from the great influx of strangers from all parts of the world, at , souls. the housekeepers were obliged to make up beds in garrets, kitchens, and even stables, for the accommodation of lodgers; and the town was so full of carriages and vehicles of every description, that they were obliged in the principal streets to drive at a foot-pace for fear of accidents. the looms of the country worked with unusual activity, to supply rich laces, silks, broad-cloth, and velvets, which being paid for in abundant paper, increased in price four-fold. provisions shared the general advance; bread, meat, and vegetables were sold at prices greater than had ever before been known; while the wages of labour rose in exactly the same proportion. the artisan, who formerly gained fifteen sous per diem, now gained sixty. new houses were built in every direction; an illusory prosperity shone over the land, and so dazzled the eyes of the whole nation that none could see the dark cloud on the horizon, announcing the storm that was too rapidly approaching. law himself, the magician whose wand had wrought so surprising a change, shared, of course, in the general prosperity. his wife and daughter were courted by the highest nobility, and their alliance sought by the heirs of ducal and princely houses. he bought two splendid estates in different parts of france, and entered into a negotiation with the family of the duke de sully for the purchase of the marquisate of rosny. his religion being an obstacle to his advancement, the regent promised, if he would publicly conform to the catholic faith, to make him comptroller-general of the finances. law, who had no more real religion than any other professed gambler, readily agreed, and was confirmed by the abbe de tencin in the cathedral of melun, in presence of a great crowd of spectators. [the following squib was circulated on the occasion:-- "foin de ton zele seraphique, malheureux abbe de tencin, depuis que law est catholique, tout le royaume est capucin thus, somewhat weakly and paraphrastically rendered by justansond, in his translation of the "memoirs of louis xv:"-- "tencin, a curse on thy seraphic zeal, which by persuasion hath contrived the means to make the scotchman at our altars kneel, since which we all are poor as capucines?] on the following day he was elected honorary churchwarden of the parish of st. roch, upon which occasion he made it a present of the sum of five hundred thousand livres. his charities, always magnificent, were not always so ostentatious. he gave away great sums privately, and no tale of real distress ever reached his ears in vain. at this time, he was by far the most influential person of the state. the duke of orleans had so much confidence in his sagacity, and the success of his plans, that he always consulted him upon every matter of moment. he was by no means unduly elevated by his prosperity, but remained the same simple, affable, sensible man that he had shown himself in adversity. his gallantry, which was always delightful to the fair objects of it, was of a nature, so kind, so gentlemanly, and so respectful, that not even a lover could have taken offence at it. if upon any occasion he showed any symptoms of haughtiness, it was to the cringing nobles, who lavished their adulation upon him till it became fulsome. he often took pleasure in seeing how long he could make them dance attendance upon him for a single favour. to such of his own countrymen as by chance visited paris, and sought an interview with him, he was, on the contrary, all politeness and attention. when archibald campbell, earl of islay, and afterwards duke of argyle, called upon him in the place vendome, he had to pass through an ante-chamber crowded with persons of the first distinction, all anxious to see the great financier, and have their names put down as first on the list of some new subscription. law himself was quietly sitting in his library, writing a letter to the gardener at his paternal estate of lauriston about the planting of some cabbages! the earl stayed for a considerable time, played a game of piquet with his countryman, and left him, charmed with his ease, good sense, and good breeding. among the nobles who, by means of the public credulity at this time, gained sums sufficient to repair their ruined fortunes, may be mentioned the names of the dukes de bourbon, de guiche, de la force [the duke de la force gained considerable sums, not only by jobbing in the stocks, but in dealing in porcelain, spices, &c. it was debated for a length of time in the parliament of paris whether he had not, in his quality of spice-merchant, forfeited his rank in the peerage. it was decided in the negative. a caricature of him was made, dressed as a street porter, carrying a large bale of spices on his back, with the inscription, "admirez la force."], de chaulnes, and d'antin; the marechal d'estrees, the princes de rohan, de poix, and de leon. the duke de bourbon, son of louis xiv by madame de montespan, was peculiarly fortunate in his speculations in mississippi paper. he rebuilt the royal residence of chantilly in a style of unwonted magnificence, and, being passionately fond of horses, he erected a range of stables, which were long renowned throughout europe, and imported a hundred and fifty of the finest racers from england, to improve the breed in france. he bought a large extent of country in picardy, and became possessed of nearly all the valuable lands lying between the oise and the somme. when fortunes such as these were gained, it is no wonder that law should have been almost worshipped by the mercurial population. never was monarch more flattered than he was. all the small poets and litterateurs of the day poured floods of adulation upon him. according to them he was the saviour of the country, the tutelary divinity of france; wit was in all his words, goodness in all his looks, and wisdom in all his actions. so great a crowd followed his carriage whenever he went abroad, that the regent sent him a troop of horse as his permanent escort, to clear the streets before him. it was remarked at this time, that paris had never before been so full of objects of elegance and luxury. statues, pictures, and tapestries were imported in great quantities from foreign countries, and found a ready market. all those pretty trifles in the way of furniture and ornament which the french excel in manufacturing, were no longer the exclusive play-things of the aristocracy, but were to be found in abundance in the houses of traders and the middle classes in general. jewellery of the most costly description was brought to paris as the most favourable mart. among the rest, the famous diamond, bought by the regent, and called by his name, and which long adorned the crown of france. it was purchased for the sum of two millions of livres, under circumstances which show that the regent was not so great a gainer as some of his subjects, by the impetus which trade had received. when the diamond was first offered to him, he refused to buy it, although he desired, above all things, to possess it, alleging as his reason, that his duty to the country he governed would not allow him to spend so large a sum of the public money for a mere jewel. this valid and honourable excuse threw all the ladies of the court into alarm, and nothing was heard for some days but expressions of regret, that so rare a gem should be allowed to go out of france; no private individual being rich enough to buy it. the regent was continually importuned about it; but all in vain, until the duke de st. simon, who, with all his ability, was something of a twaddler, undertook the weighty business. his entreaties, being seconded by law, the good-natured regent gave his consent, leaving to law's ingenuity to find the means to pay for it. the owner took security for the payment of the sum of two millions of livres within a stated period, receiving, in the mean time, the interest of five per cent. upon that amount, and being allowed, besides, all the valuable clippings of the gem. st. simon, in his memoirs, relates, with no little complacency, his share in this transaction. after describing the diamond to be as large as a greengage, of a form nearly round, perfectly white, and without flaw, and weighing more than five hundred grains, he concludes with a chuckle, by telling the world, "that he takes great credit to himself for having induced the regent to make so illustrious a purchase." in other words, he was proud that he had induced him to sacrifice his duty, and buy a bauble for himself, at an extravagant price, out of the public money. thus the system continued to flourish till the commencement of the year . the warnings of the parliament, that too great a creation of paper money would, sooner or later, bring the country to bankruptcy, were disregarded. the regent, who knew nothing whatever of the philosophy of finance, thought that a system which had produced such good effects could never be carried to excess. if five hundred millions of paper had been of such advantage, five hundred millions additional would be of still greater advantage. this was the grand error of the regent, and which law did not attempt to dispel. the extraordinary avidity of the people kept up the delusion; and the higher the price of indian and mississippi stock, the more billets de banque were issued to keep pace with it. the edifice thus reared might not unaptly be compared to the gorgeous palace erected by potemkin, that princely barbarian of russia, to surprise and please his imperial mistress: huge blocks of ice were piled one upon another; ionic pillars, of chastest workmanship, in ice, formed a noble portico; and a dome, of the same material, shone in the sun, which had just strength enough to gild, but not to melt it. it glittered afar, like a palace of crystals and diamonds; but there came one warm breeze from the south, and the stately building dissolved away, till none were able even to gather up the fragments. so with law and his paper system. no sooner did the breath of popular mistrust blow steadily upon it, than it fell to ruins, and none could raise it up again. the first slight alarm that was occasioned was early in . the prince de conti, offended that law should have denied him fresh shares in india stock, at his own price, sent to his bank to demand payment in specie of so enormous a quantity of notes, that three waggons were required for its transport. law complained to the regent, and urged on his attention the mischief that would be done, if such an example found many imitators. the regent was but too well aware of it, and, sending for the prince de conti, ordered him, under penalty of his high displeasure, to refund to the bank two-thirds of the specie which he had withdrawn from it. the prince was forced to obey the despotic mandate. happily for law's credit, de conti was an unpopular man: everybody condemned his meanness and cupidity, and agreed that law had been hardly treated. it is strange, however, that so narrow an escape should not have made both law and the regent more anxious to restrict their issues. others were soon found who imitated, from motives of distrust, the example which had been set by de conti in revenge. the more acute stockjobbers imagined justly that prices could not continue to rise for ever. bourdon and la richardiere, renowned for their extensive operations in the funds, quietly and in small quantities at a time, converted their notes into specie, and sent it away to foreign countries. they also bought as much as they could conveniently carry of plate and expensive jewellery, and sent it secretly away to england or to holland. vermalet, a jobber, who sniffed the coming storm, procured gold and silver coin to the amount of nearly a million of livres, which he packed in a farmer's cart, and covered over with hay and cow-dung. he then disguised himself in the dirty smock-frock, or blouse, of a peasant, and drove his precious load in safety into belgium. from thence he soon found means to transport it to amsterdam. hitherto no difficulty had been experienced by any class in procuring specie for their wants. but this system could not long be carried on without causing a scarcity. the voice of complaint was heard on every side, and inquiries being instituted, the cause was soon discovered. the council debated long on the remedies to be taken, and law, being called on for his advice, was of opinion, that an edict should be published, depreciating the value of coin five per cent. below that of paper. the edict was published accordingly; but, failing of its intended effect, was followed by another, in which the depreciation was increased to ten per cent. the payments of the bank were at the same time restricted to one hundred livres in gold, and ten in silver. all these measures were nugatory to restore confidence in the paper, though the restriction of cash payments within limits so extremely narrow kept up the credit of the bank. notwithstanding every effort to the contrary, the precious metals continued to be conveyed to england and holland. the little coin that was left in the country was carefully treasured, or hidden until the scarcity became so great, that the operations of trade could no longer be carried on. in this emergency, law hazarded the bold experiment of forbidding the use of specie altogether. in february an edict was published, which, instead of restoring the credit of the paper, as was intended, destroyed it irrecoverably, and drove the country to the very brink of revolution. by this famous edict it was forbidden to any person whatever to have more than five hundred livres ( pounds sterling) of coin in his possession, under pain of a heavy fine, and confiscation of the sums found. it was also forbidden to buy up jewellery, plate, and precious stones, and informers were encouraged to make search for offenders, by the promise of one-half the amount they might discover. the whole country sent up a cry of distress at this unheard-of tyranny. the most odious persecution daily took place. the privacy of families was violated by the intrusion of informers and their agents. the most virtuous and honest were denounced for the crime of having been seen with a louis d'or in their possession. servants betrayed their masters, one citizen became a spy upon his neighbour, and arrests and confiscations so multiplied, that the courts found a difficulty in getting through the immense increase of business thus occasioned. it was sufficient for an informer to say that he suspected any person of concealing money in his house, and immediately a search-warrant was granted. lord stair, the english ambassador, said, that it was now impossible to doubt of the sincerity of law's conversion to the catholic religion; he had established the inquisition, after having given abundant evidence of his faith in transubstantiation, by turning so much gold into paper. every epithet that popular hatred could suggest was showered upon the regent and the unhappy law. coin, to any amount above five hundred livres, was an illegal tender, and nobody would take paper if he could help it. no one knew to-day what his notes would be worth to-morrow. "never," says duclos, in his secret memoirs of the regency, "was seen a more capricious government-never was a more frantic tyranny exercised by hands less firm. it is inconceivable to those who were witnesses of the horrors of those times, and who look back upon them now as on a dream, that a sudden revolution did not break out--that law and the regent did not perish by a tragical death. they were both held in horror, but the people confined themselves to complaints; a sombre and timid despair, a stupid consternation, had seized upon all, and men's minds were too vile even to be capable of a courageous crime." it would appear that, at one time, a movement of the people was organised. seditious writings were posted up against the walls, and were sent, in hand-bills, to the houses of the most conspicuous people. one of them, given in the "memoires de la regence," was to the following effect:--"sir and madam,--this is to give you notice that a st. bartholomew's day will be enacted again on saturday and sunday, if affairs do not alter. you are desired not to stir out, nor you, nor your servants. god preserve you from the flames! give notice to your neighbours. dated saturday, may th, ." the immense number of spies with which the city was infested rendered the people mistrustful of one another, and beyond some trifling disturbances made in the evening by an insignificant group, which was soon dispersed, the peace of the capital was not compromised. the value of shares in the louisiana, or mississippi stock, had fallen very rapidly, and few indeed were found to believe the tales that had once been told of the immense wealth of that region. a last effort was therefore tried to restore the public confidence in the mississippi project. for this purpose, a general conscription of all the poor wretches in paris was made by order of government. upwards of six thousand of the very refuse of the population were impressed, as if in time of war, and were provided with clothes and tools to be embarked for new orleans, to work in the gold mines alleged to abound there. they were paraded day after day through the streets with their pikes and shovels, and then sent off in small detachments to the out-ports to be shipped for america. two-thirds of them never reached their destination, but dispersed themselves over the country, sold their tools for what they could get, and returned to their old course of life. in less than three weeks afterwards, one-half of them were to be found again in paris. the manoeuvre, however, caused a trifling advance in mississippi stock. many persons of superabundant gullibility believed that operations had begun in earnest in the new golconda, and that gold and silver ingots would again be found in france. in a constitutional monarchy some surer means would have been found for the restoration of public credit. in england, at a subsequent period, when a similar delusion had brought on similar distress, how different were the measures taken to repair the evil; but in france, unfortunately, the remedy was left to the authors of the mischief. the arbitrary will of the regent, which endeavoured to extricate the country, only plunged it deeper into the mire. all payments were ordered to be made in paper, and between the st of february and the end of may, notes were fabricated to the amount of upwards of millions of livres, or , , pounds sterling. but the alarm once sounded, no art could make the people feel the slightest confidence in paper which was not exchangeable into metal. m. lambert, the president of the parliament of paris, told the regent to his face that he would rather have a hundred thousand livres in gold or silver than five millions in the notes of his bank. when such was the general feeling, the superabundant issues of paper but increased the evil, by rendering still more enormous the disparity between the amount of specie and notes in circulation. coin, which it was the object of the regent to depreciate, rose in value on every fresh attempt to diminish it. in february, it was judged advisable that the royal bank should be incorporated with the company of the indies. an edict to that effect was published and registered by the parliament. the state remained the guarantee for the notes of the bank, and no more were to be issued without an order in council. all the profits of the bank, since the time it had been taken out of law's hands and made a national institution, were given over by the regent to the company of the indies. this measure had the effect of raising for a short time the value of the louisiana and other shares of the company, but it failed in placing public credit on any permanent basis. a council of state was held in the beginning of may, at which law, d'argenson (his colleague in the administration of the finances), and all the ministers were present. it was then computed that the total amount of notes in circulation was millions of livres, while the coin in the country was not quite equal to half that amount. it was evident to the majority of the council that some plan must be adopted to equalise the currency. some proposed that the notes should be reduced to the value of the specie, while others proposed that the nominal value of the specie should be raised till it was on an equality with the paper. law is said to have opposed both these projects, but failing in suggesting any other, it was agreed that the notes should be depreciated one-half. on the st of may, an edict was accordingly issued, by which it was decreed that the shares of the company of the indies, and the notes of the bank, should gradually diminish in value, till at the end of a year they should only pass current for one half of their nominal worth. the parliament refused to register the edict--the greatest outcry was excited, and the state of the country became so alarming, that, as the only means of preserving tranquillity, the council of the regency was obliged to stultify its own proceedings, by publishing within seven days another edict, restoring the notes to their original value. on the same day (the th of may) the bank stopped payment in specie. law and d'argenson were both dismissed from the ministry. the weak, vacillating, and cowardly regent threw the blame of all the mischief upon law, who, upon presenting himself at the palais royal, was refused admitance. at nightfall, however, he was sent for, and admitted into the palace by a secret door,[duclos, memoires secrets de la regence.] when the regent endeavoured to console him, and made all manner of excuses for the severity with which in public he had been compelled to treat him. so capricious was his conduct, that, two days afterwards, he took him publicly to the opera, where he sat in the royal box, alongside of the regent, who treated him with marked consideration in face of all the people. but such was the hatred against law that the experiment had well nigh proved fatal to him. the mob assailed his carriage with stones just as he was entering his own door; and if the coachman had not made a sudden jerk into the court-yard, and the domestics closed the gate immediately, he would, in all probability, have been dragged out and torn to pieces. on the following day, his wife and daughter were also assailed by the mob as they were returning in their carriage from the races. when the regent was informed of these occurrences he sent law a strong detachment of swiss guards, who were stationed night and day in the court of his residence. the public indignation at last increased so much, that law, finding his own house, even with this guard, insecure, took refuge in the palais royal, in the apartments of the regent. the chancellor, d'aguesseau, who had been dismissed in for his opposition to the projects of law, was now recalled to aid in the restoration of credit. the regent acknowledged too late, that he had treated with unjustifiable harshness and mistrust one of the ablest, and perhaps the sole honest public man of that corrupt period. he had retired ever since his disgrace to his country-house at fresnes, where, in the midst of severe but delightful philosophic studies, he had forgotten the intrigues of an unworthy court. law himself, and the chevalier de conflans, a gentleman of the regent's household, were despatched in a post-chaise, with orders to bring the ex-chancellor to paris along with them. d'aguesseau consented to render what assistance he could, contrary to the advice of his friends, who did not approve that he should accept any recall to office of which law was the bearer. on his arrival in paris, five counsellors of the parliament were admitted to confer with the commissary of finance, and on the st of june an order was published, abolishing the law which made it criminal to amass coin to the amount of more than five hundred livres. every one was permitted to have as much specie as he pleased. in order that the bank-notes might be withdrawn, twenty-five millions of new notes were created, on the security of the revenues of the city of paris, at two-and-a-half per cent. the bank-notes withdrawn were publicly burned in front of the hotel de ville. the new notes were principally of the value of ten livres each; and on the th of june the bank was re-opened, with a sufficiency of silver coin to give in change for them. these measures were productive of considerable advantage. all the population of paris hastened to the bank, to get coin for their small notes; and silver becoming scarce, they were paid in copper. very few complained that this was too heavy, although poor fellows might be continually seen toiling and sweating along the streets, laden with more than they could comfortably carry, in the shape of change for fifty livres. the crowds around the bank were so great, that hardly a day passed that some one was not pressed to death. on the th of july, the multitude was so dense and clamorous that the guards stationed at the entrance of the mazarin gardens closed the gate, and refused to admit any more. the crowd became incensed, and flung stones through the railings upon the soldiers. the latter, incensed in their turn, threatened to fire upon the people. at that instant one of them was hit by a stone, and, taking up his piece, he fired into the crowd. one man fell dead immediately, and another was severely wounded. it was every instant expected that a general attack would have been commenced upon the bank; but the gates of the mazarin gardens being opened to the crowd, who saw a whole troop of soldiers, with their bayonets fixed, ready to receive them, they contented themselves by giving vent to their indignation in groans and hisses. eight days afterwards the concourse of people was so tremendous, that fifteen persons were squeezed to death at the doors of the bank. the people were so indignant that they took three of the bodies on stretchers before them, and proceeded, to the number of seven or eight thousand, to the gardens of the palais royal, that they might show the regent the misfortunes that he and law had brought upon the country. law's coachman, who was sitting on the box of his master's carriage, in the court-yard of the palace, happened to have more zeal than discretion, and, not liking that the mob should abuse his master, he said, loud enough to be overheard by several persons, that they were all blackguards, and deserved to be hanged. the mob immediately set upon him, and, thinking that law was in the carriage, broke it to pieces. the imprudent coachman narrowly escaped with his life. no further mischief was done; a body of troops making their appearance, the crowd quietly dispersed, after an assurance had been given by the regent that the three bodies they had brought to show him should be decently buried at his own expense. the parliament was sitting at the time of this uproar, and the president took upon himself to go out and see what was the matter. on his return he informed the councillors, that law's carriage had been broken by the mob. all the members rose simultaneously, and expressed their joy by a loud shout, while one man, more zealous in his hatred than the rest, exclaimed, "and law himself, is he torn to pieces?" [the duchess of orleans gives a different version of this story; but whichever be the true one, the manifestation of such feeling in a legislative assembly was not very creditable. she says, that the president was so transported with joy, that he was seized with a rhyming fit, and, returning into the hall, exclaimed to the members:-- "messieurs! messieurs! bonne nouvelle! le carfosse de lass est reduit en canelle!"] much undoubtedly depended on the credit of the company of the indies, which was answerable for so great a sum to the nation. it was, therefore, suggested in the council of the ministry, that any privileges which could be granted to enable it to fulfil its engagements, would be productive of the best results. with this end in view, it was proposed that the exclusive privilege of all maritime commerce should be secured to it, and an edict to that effect was published. but it was unfortunately forgotten that by such a measure all the merchants of the country would be ruined. the idea of such an immense privilege was generally scouted by the nation, and petition on petition was presented to the parliament, that they would refuse to register the decree. they refused accordingly, and the regent, remarking that they did nothing but fan the flame of sedition, exiled them to blois. at the intercession of d'aguesseau, the place of banishment was changed to pontoise, and thither accordingly the councillors repaired, determined to set the regent at defiance. they made every arrangement for rendering their temporary exile as agreeable as possible. the president gave the most elegant suppers, to which he invited all the gayest and wittiest company of paris. every night there was a concert and ball for the ladies. the usually grave and solemn judges and councillors joined in cards and other diversions, leading for several weeks a life of the most extravagant pleasure, for no other purpose than to show the regent of how little consequence they deemed their banishment, and that when they willed it, they could make pontoise a pleasanter residence than paris. of all the nations in the world the french are the most renowned for singing over their grievances. of that country it has been remarked with some truth, that its whole history may be traced in its songs. when law, by the utter failure of his best-laid plans, rendered himself obnoxious, satire of course seized hold upon him, and, while caricatures of his person appeared in all the shops, the streets resounded with songs, in which neither he nor the regent was spared. many of these songs were far from decent; and one of them in particular counselled the application of all his notes to the most ignoble use to which paper can be applied. but the following, preserved in the letters of the duchess of orleans, was the best and the most popular, and was to be heard for months in all the carrefours of paris. the application of the chorus is happy enough:-- aussitot que lass arriva dans notre bonne ville, monsieur le regent publia que lass serait utile pour retablir la nation. la faridondaine! la faridondon. mais il nous a tous enrich!, biribi! a la facon de barbari, mort ami! ce parpaillot, pour attirer tout l'argent de la france, songea d'abord a s'assurer de notre confiance. il fit son abjuration. la faridondaine! la faridondon! mais le fourbe s'est converti, biribi! a la facon de barbari, mon ami! lass, le fils aine de satan nous met tous a l'aumone, il nous a pris tout notre argent et n'en rend a personne. mais le regent, humain et bon, la faridondaine! la faridondon! nous rendra ce qu'on nous a pris, biribi! a la facon de barbari, mon ami! the following smart epigram is of the same date:-- lundi, j'achetai des actions; mardi, je gagnai des millions; mercredi, j'arrangeai mon menage, jeudi, je pris un equipage, vendredi, je m'en fus au bal, et samedi, a l'hopital. among the caricatures that were abundantly published, and that showed as plainly as graver matters, that the nation had awakened to a sense of its folly, was one, a fac-simile of which is preserved in the "memoires de la regence." it was thus described by its author: "the 'goddess of shares," in her triumphal car, driven by the goddess of folly. those who are drawing the car are impersonations of the mississippi, with his wooden leg, the south sea, the bank of england, the company of the west of senegal, and of various assurances. lest the car should not roll fast enough, the agents of these companies, known by their long fox-tails and their cunning looks, turn round the spokes of the wheels, upon which are marked the names of the several stocks, and their value, sometimes high and sometimes low, according to the turns of the wheel. upon the ground are the merchandise, day-books and ledgers of legitimate commerce, crushed under the chariot of folly. behind is an immense crowd of persons, of all ages, sexes, and conditions, clamoring after fortune, and fighting with each other to get a portion of the shares which she distributes so bountifully among them. in the clouds sits a demon, blowing bubbles of soap, which are also the objects of the admiration and cupidity of the crowd, who jump upon one another's backs to reach them ere they burst. right in the pathway of the car, and blocking up the passage, stands a large building, with three doors, through one of which it must pass, if it proceeds further, and all the crowd along with it. over the first door are the words, "hopital des foux," over the second, "hopital des malades," and over the third, "hopital des gueux." another caricature represented law sitting in a large cauldron, boiling over the flames of popular madness, surrounded by an impetuous multitude, who were pouring all their gold and silver into it, and receiving gladly in exchange the bits of paper which he distributed among them by handsfull. while this excitement lasted, law took good care not to expose himself unguarded in the streets. shut up in the apartments of the regent, he was secure from all attack, and, whenever he ventured abroad, it was either incognito, or in one of the royal carriages, with a powerful escort. an amusing anecdote is recorded of the detestation in which he was held by the people, and the ill treatment he would have met, had he fallen into their hands. a gentleman, of the name of boursel, was passing in his carriage down the rue st. antoine, when his further progress was stayed by a hackneycoach that had blocked up the road. m. boursel's servant called impatiently to the hackneycoachman to get out of the way, and, on his refusal, struck him a blow on the face. a crowd was soon drawn together by the disturbance, and m. boursel got out of the carriage to restore order. the hackney-coachman, imagining that he had now another assailant, bethought him of an expedient to rid himself of both, and called out as loudly as he was able, "help! help! murder! murder! here are law and his servant going to kill me! help! help!" at this cry, the people came out of their shops, armed with sticks and other weapons, while the mob gathered stones to inflict summary vengeance upon the supposed financier. happily for m. boursel and his servant, the door of the church of the jesuits stood wide open, and, seeing the fearful odds against them, they rushed towards it with all speed. they reached the altar, pursued by the people, and would have been ill treated even there, if, finding the door open leading to the sacristy, they had not sprang through, and closed it after them. the mob were then persuaded to leave the church by the alarmed and indignant priests; and, finding m. boursel's carriage still in the streets, they vented their ill-will against it, and did it considerable damage. the twenty-five millions secured on the municipal revenues of the city of paris, bearing so low an interest as two and a half per cent., were not very popular among the large holders of mississippi stock. the conversion of the securities was, therefore, a work of considerable difficulty; for many preferred to retain the falling paper of law's company, in the hope that a favourable turn might take place. on the th of august, with a view to hasten the conversion, an edict was passed, declaring that all notes for sums between one thousand and ten thousand livres; should not pass current, except for the purchase of annuities and bank accounts, or for the payment of instalments still due on the shares of the company. in october following another edict was passed, depriving these notes of all value whatever after the month of november next ensuing. the management of the mint, the farming of the revenue, and all the other advantages and privileges of the india, or mississippi company, were taken from them, and they were reduced to a mere private company. this was the deathblow to the whole system, which had now got into the hands of its enemies. law had lost all influence in the council of finance, and the company, being despoiled of its immunities, could no longer hold out the shadow of a prospect of being able to fulfil its engagements. all those suspected of illegal profits at the time the public delusion was at its height, were sought out and amerced in heavy fines. it was previously ordered that a list of the original proprietors should be made out, and that such persons as still retained their shares should place them in deposit with the company, and that those who had neglected to complete the shares for which they had put down their names, should now purchase them of the company, at the rate of , livres for each share of livres. rather than submit to pay this enormous sum for stock which was actually at a discount, the shareholders packed up all their portable effects, and endeavoured to find a refuge in foreign countries. orders were immediately issued to the authorities at the ports and frontiers, to apprehend all travellers who sought to leave the kingdom, and keep them in custody, until it was ascertained whether they had any plate or jewellery with them, or were concerned in the late stock-jobbing. against such few as escaped, the punishment of death was recorded, while the most arbitrary proceedings were instituted against those who remained. law himself, in a moment of despair, determined to leave a country where his life was no longer secure. he at first only demanded permission to retire from paris to one of his country-seats; a permission which the regent cheerfully granted. the latter was much affected at the unhappy turn affairs had taken, but his faith continued unmoved in the truth and efficacy of law's financial system. his eyes were opened to his own errors, and during the few remaining years of his life, he constantly longed for an opportunity of again establishing the system upon a securer basis. at law's last interview with the prince, he is reported to have said--"i confess that i have committed many faults; i committed them because i am a man, and all men are liable to error; but i declare to you most solemnly that none of them proceeded from wicked or dishonest motives, and that nothing of the kind will be found in the whole course of my conduct." two or three days after his departure the regent sent him a very kind letter, permitting him to leave the kingdom whenever he pleased, and stating that he had ordered his passports to be made ready. he at the same time offered him any sum of money he might require. law respectfully declined the money, and set out for brussels in a postchaise belonging to madame de prie, the mistress of the duke of bourbon, escorted by six horse-guards. from thence he proceeded to venice, where he remained for some months, the object of the greatest curiosity to the people, who believed him to be the possessor of enormous wealth. no opinion, however, could be more erroneous. with more generosity than could have been expected from a man who during the greatest part of his life had been a professed gambler, he had refused to enrich himself at the expense of a ruined nation. during the height of the popular frenzy for mississippi stock, he had never doubted of the final success of his projects, in making france the richest and most powerful nation of europe. he invested all his gains in the purchase of landed property in france--a sure proof of his own belief in the stability of his schemes. he had hoarded no plate or jewellery, and sent no money, like the dishonest jobbers, to foreign countries. his all, with the exception of one diamond, worth about five or six thousand pounds sterling, was invested in the french soil; and when he left that country, he left it almost a beggar. this fact alone ought to rescue his memory from the charge of knavery, so often and so unjustly brought against him. as soon as his departure was known, all his estates and his valuable library were confiscated. among the rest, an annuity of , livres, ( pounds sterling,) on the lives of his wife and children, which had been purchased for five millions of livres, was forfeited, notwithstanding that a special edict, drawn up for the purpose in the days of his prosperity, had expressly declared that it should never be confiscated for any cause whatever. great discontent existed among the people that law had been suffered to escape. the mob and the parliament would have been pleased to have seen him hanged. the few who had not suffered by the commercial revolution, rejoiced that the quack had left the country; but all those (and they were by far the most numerous class) whose fortunes were implicated, regretted that his intimate knowledge of the distress of the country, and of the causes that had led to it, had not been rendered more available in discovering a remedy. at a meeting of the council of finance, and the general council of the regency, documents were laid upon the table, from which it appeared that the amount of notes in circulation was millions. the regent was called upon to explain how it happened that there was a discrepancy between the dates at which these issues were made, and those of the edicts by which they were authorised. he might have safely taken the whole blame upon himself, but he preferred that an absent man should bear a share of it, and he therefore stated that law, upon his own authority, had issued millions of notes at different times, and that he (the regent) seeing that the thing had been irrevocably done, had screened law, by antedating the decrees of the council, which authorised the augmentation. it would have been more to his credit if he had told the whole truth while he was about it, and acknowledged that it was mainly through his extravagance and impatience that law had been induced to overstep the bounds of safe speculation. it was also ascertained that the national debt, on the st of january, , amounted to upwards of $ millions of livres, or more than , , pounds sterling, the interest upon which was , , pounds. a commission, or visa, was forthwith appointed to examine into all the securities of the state creditors, who were to be divided into five classes, the first four comprising those who had purchased their securities with real effects, and the latter comprising those who could give no proofs that the transactions they had entered into were real and bona fide. the securities of the latter were ordered to be destroyed, while those of the first four classes were subjected to a most rigid and jealous scrutiny. the result of the labours of the visa was a report, in which they counselled the reduction of the interest upon these securities to fifty-six millions of livres. they justified this advice by a statement of the various acts of peculation and extortion which they had discovered, and an edict to that effect was accordingly published and duly registered by the parliaments of the kingdom. another tribunal was afterwards established, under the title of the chambre de l'arsenal, which took cognizance of all the malversations committed in the financial departments of the government during the late unhappy period. a master of requests, named falhonet, together with the abbe clement, and two clerks in their employ, had been concerned in divers acts of peculation, to the amount of upwards of a million of livres. the first two were sentenced to be beheaded, and the latter to be hanged; but their punishment was afterwards commuted into imprisonment for life in the bastile. numerous other acts of dishonesty were discovered, and punished by fine and imprisonment. d'argenson shared with law and the regent the unpopularity which had alighted upon all those concerned in the mississippi madness. he was dismissed from his post of chancellor, to make room for d'aguesseau; but he retained the title of keeper of the seals, and was allowed to attend the councils whenever he pleased. he thought it better, however, to withdraw from paris, and live for a time a life of seclusion at his country-seat. but he was not formed for retirement, and becoming moody and discontented, he aggravated a disease under which he had long laboured, and died in less than a twelvemonth. the populace of of paris so detested him, that they carried their hatred even to his grave. as his funeral procession passed to the church of st. nicholas du chardonneret, the burying-place of his family, it was beset by a riotous mob, and his two sons, who were following as chief-mourners, were obliged to drive as fast as they were able down a by-street to escape personal violence. as regards law, he for some time entertained a hope that he should be recalled to france, to aid in establishing its credit upon a firmer basis. the death of the regent, in , who expired suddenly, as he was sitting by the fireside conversing with his mistress, the duchess de phalaris, deprived him of that hope, and he was reduced to lead his former life of gambling. he was more than once obliged to pawn his diamond, the sole remnant of his vast wealth, but successful play generally enabled him to redeem it. being persecuted by his creditors at rome, he proceeded to copenhagen, where he received permission from the english ministry to reside in his native country, his pardon for the murder of mr. wilson having been sent over to him in . he was brought over in the admiral's ship, a circumstance which gave occasion for a short debate in the house of lords. earl coningsby complained that a man, who had renounced both his country and his religion, should have been treated with such honour, and expressed his belief that his presence in england, at a time when the people were so bewildered by the nefarious practices of the south sea directors, would be attended with no little danger. he gave notice of a motion on the subject; but it was allowed to drop, no other member of the house having the slightest participation in his lordship's fears. law remained for about four years in england, and then proceeded to venice, where he died in , in very embarrassed circumstances. the following epitaph was written at the time:-- "ci git cet ecossais celebre, ce calculateur sans egal, qui, par les regles de l'algebre, a mis la france a l'hopital." his brother, william law, who had been concerned with him in the administration both of the bank and the louisiana company, was imprisoned in the bastile for alleged malversation, but no guilt was ever proved against him. he was liberated after fifteen months, and became the founder of a family, which is still known in france under the title of marquises of lauriston. in the next chapter will be found an account of the madness which infected the people of england at the same time, and under very similar circumstances, but which, thanks to the energies and good sense of a constitutional government, was attended with results far less disastrous than those which were seen in france. the south sea bubble at length corruption, like a general flood, did deluge all, and avarice creeping on, spread, like a low-born mist, and hid the sun. statesmen and patriots plied alike the stocks, peeress and butler shared alike the box; and judges jobbed, and bishops bit the town, and mighty dukes packed cards for half-a-crown: britain was sunk in lucre's sordid charms. --pope. the south sea company was originated by the celebrated harley, earl of oxford, in the year , with the view of restoring public credit, which had suffered by the dismissal of the whig ministry, and of providing for the discharge of the army and navy debentures, and other parts of the floating debt, amounting to nearly ten millions sterling. a company of merchants, at that time without a name, took this debt upon themselves, and the government agreed to secure them, for a certain period, the interest of six per cent. to provide for this interest, amounting to , pounds per annum, the duties upon wines, vinegar, india goods, wrought silks, tobacco, whale-fins, and some other articles, were rendered permanent. the monopoly of the trade to the south seas was granted, and the company, being incorporated by act of parliament, assumed the title by which it has ever since been known. the minister took great credit to himself for his share in this transaction, and the scheme was always called by his flatterers "the earl of oxford's masterpiece." even at this early period of its history, the most visionary ideas were formed by the company and the public of the immense riches of the eastern coast of south america. everybody had heard of the gold and silver mines of peru and mexico; every one believed them to be inexhaustible, and that it was only necessary to send the manufactures of england to the coast, to be repaid a hundredfold in gold and silver ingots by the natives. a report, industriously spread, that spain was willing to concede four ports, on the coasts of chili and peru, for the purposes of traffic, increased the general confidence; and for many years the south sea company's stock was in high favour. philip v of spain, however, never had any intention of admitting the english to a free trade in the ports of spanish america. negotiations were set on foot, but their only result was the assiento contract, or the privilege of supplying the colonies with negroes for thirty years, and of sending once a year a vessel, limited both as to tonnage and value of cargo, to trade with mexico, peru, or chili. the latter permission was only granted upon the hard condition, that the king of spain should enjoy one-fourth of the profits, and a tax of five per cent. on the remainder. this was a great disappointment to the earl of oxford and his party, who were reminded much oftener than they found agreeable of the "parturiunt montes, nascitur ridiculus mus." but the public confidence in the south sea company was not shaken. the earl of oxford declared, that spain would permit two ships, in addition to the annual ship, to carry out merchandise during the first year; and a list was published, in which all the ports and harbours of these coasts were pompously set forth as open to the trade of great britain. the first voyage of the annual ship was not made till the year , and in the following year the trade was suppressed by the rupture with spain. the king's speech, at the opening of the session of , made pointed allusion to the state of public credit, and recommended that proper measures should be taken to reduce the national debt. the two great monetary corporations, the south sea company and the bank of england, made proposals to parliament on the th of may ensuing. the south sea company prayed that their capital stock of ten millions might be increased to twelve, by subscription or otherwise, and offered to accept five per cent. instead of six upon the whole amount. the bank made proposals equally advantageous. the house debated for some time, and finally three acts were passed, called the south sea act, the bank act, and the general fund act. by the first, the proposals of the south sea company were accepted, and that body held itself ready to advance the sum of two millions towards discharging the principal and interest of the debt due by the state for the four lottery funds of the ninth and tenth years of queen anne. by the second act, the bank received a lower rate of interest for the sum of , , pounds shillings due to it by the state, and agreed to deliver up to be cancelled as many exchequer bills as amounted to two millions sterling, and to accept of an annuity of one hundred thousand pounds, being after the rate of five per cent, the whole redeemable at one year's notice. they were further required to be ready to advance, in case of need, a sum not exceeding , , pounds upon the same terms of five per cent interest, redeemable by parliament. the general fund act recited the various deficiencies, which were to be made good by the aids derived from the foregoing sources. the name of the south sea company was thus continually before the public. though their trade with the south american states produced little or no augmentation of their revenues, they continued to flourish as a monetary corporation. their stock was in high request, and the directors, buoyed up with success, began to think of new means for extending their influence. the mississippi scheme of john law, which so dazzled and captivated the french people, inspired them with an idea that they could carry on the same game in england. the anticipated failure of his plans did not divert them from their intention. wise in their own conceit, they imagined they could avoid his faults, carry on their schemes for ever, and stretch the cord of credit to its extremest tension, without causing it to snap asunder. it was while law's plan was at its greatest height of popularity, while people were crowding in thousands to the rue quincampoix, and ruining themselves with frantic eagerness, that the south sea directors laid before parliament their famous plan for paying off the national debt. visions of boundless wealth floated before the fascinated eyes of the people in the two most celebrated countries of europe. the english commenced their career of extravagance somewhat later than the french; but as soon as the delirium seized them, they were determined not to be outdone. upon the nd of january , the house of commons resolved itself into a committee of the whole house, to take into consideration that part of the king's speech at the opening of the session which related to the public debts, and the proposal of the south sea company towards the redemption and sinking of the same. the proposal set forth at great length, and under several heads, the debts of the state, amounting to , , pounds, which the company were anxious to take upon themselves, upon consideration of five per cent. per annum, secured to them until midsummer ; after which time, the whole was to become redeemable at the pleasure of the legislature, and the interest to be reduced to four per cent. the proposal was received with great favour; but the bank of england had many friends in the house of commons, who were desirous that that body should share in the advantages that were likely to accrue. on behalf of this corporation it was represented, that they had performed great and eminent services to the state, in the most difficult times, and deserved, at least, that if any advantage was to be made by public bargains of this nature, they should be preferred before a company that had never done any thing for the nation. the further consideration of the matter was accordingly postponed for five days. in the mean time, a plan was drawn up by the governors of the bank. the south sea company, afraid that the bank might offer still more advantageous terms to the government than themselves, reconsidered their former proposal, and made some alterations in it, which they hoped would render it more acceptable. the principal change was a stipulation that the government might redeem these debts at the expiration of four years, instead of seven, as at first suggested. the bank resolved not to be outbidden in this singular auction, and the governors also reconsidered their first proposal, and sent in a new one. thus, each corporation having made two proposals, the house began to deliberate. mr. robert walpole was the chief speaker in favour of the bank, and mr. aislabie, the chancellor of the exchequer, the principal advocate on behalf of the south sea company. it was resolved, on the nd of february, that the proposals of the latter were most advantageous to the country. they were accordingly received, and leave was given to bring in a bill to that effect. exchange alley was in a fever of excitement. the company's stock, which had been at a hundred and thirty the previous day, gradually rose to three hundred, and continued to rise with the most astonishing rapidity during the whole time that the bill in its several stages was under discussion. mr. walpole was almost the only statesman in the house who spoke out boldly against it. he warned them, in eloquent and solemn language, of the evils that would ensue. it countenanced, he said, "the dangerous practice of stockjobbing, and would divert the genius of the nation from trade and industry. it would hold out a dangerous lure to decoy the unwary to their ruin, by making them part with the earnings of their labour for a prospect of imaginary wealth." the great principle of the project was an evil of first-rate magnitude; it was to raise artificially the value of the stock, by exciting and keeping up a general infatuation, and by promising dividends out of funds which could never be adequate to the purpose. in a prophetic spirit he added, that if the plan succeeded, the directors would become masters of the government, form a new and absolute aristocracy in the kingdom, and control the resolutions of the legislature. if it failed, which he was convinced it would, the result would bring general discontent and ruin upon the country. such would be the delusion, that when the evil day came, as come it would, the people would start up, as from a dream, and ask themselves if these things could have been true. all his eloquence was in vain. he was looked upon as a false prophet, or compared to the hoarse raven, croaking omens of evil. his friends, however, compared him to cassandra, predicting evils which would only be believed when they came home to men's hearths, and stared them in the face at their own boards. although, in former times, the house had listened with the utmost attention to every word that fell from his lips, the benches became deserted when it was known that he would speak on the south sea question. the bill was two months in its progress through the house of commons. during this time every exertion was made by the directors and their friends, and more especially by the chairman, the noted sir john blunt, to raise the price of the stock. the most extravagant rumours were in circulation. treaties between england and spain were spoken of, whereby the latter was to grant a free trade to all her colonies; and the rich produce of the mines of potosi-la-paz was to be brought to england until silver should become almost as plentiful as iron. for cotton and woollen goods, with which we could supply them in abundance, the dwellers in mexico were to empty their golden mines. the company of merchants trading to the south seas would be the richest the world ever saw, and every hundred pounds invested in it would produce hundreds per annum to the stockholder. at last the stock was raised by these means to near four hundred; but, after fluctuating a good deal, settled at three hundred and thirty, at which price it remained when the bill passed the commons by a majority of against . in the house of lords the bill was hurried through all its stages with unexampled rapidity. on the th of april it was read a first time; on the th, it was read a second time; on the th, it was committed; and on the th, was read a third time, and passed. several peers spoke warmly against the scheme; but their warnings fell upon dull, cold ears. a speculating frenzy had seized them as well as the plebeians. lord north and grey said the bill was unjust in its nature, and might prove fatal in its consequences, being calculated to enrich the few and impoverish the many. the duke of wharton followed; but, as he only retailed at second-hand the arguments so eloquently stated by walpole in the lower house, he was not listened to with even the same attention that had been bestowed upon lord north and grey. earl cowper followed on the same side, and compared the bill to the famous horse of the siege of troy. like that, it was ushered in and received with great pomp and acclamations of joy, but bore within it treachery and destruction. the earl of sunderland endeavoured to answer all objections; and, on the question being put, there appeared only seventeen peers against, and eighty-three in favour of the project. the very same day on which it passed the lords, it received the royal assent, and became the law of the land. it seemed at that time as if the whole nation had turned stockjobbers. exchange alley was every day blocked up by crowds, and cornhill was impassable for the number of carriages. everybody came to purchase stock. "every fool aspired to be a knave." in the words of a ballad, published at the time, and sung about the streets, ["a south sea ballad; or, merry remarks upon exchange alley bubbles. to a new tune, called 'the grand elixir; or, the philosopher's stone discovered.'"] then stars and garters did appear among the meaner rabble; to buy and sell, to see and hear, the jews and gentiles squabble. the greatest ladies thither came, and plied in chariots daily, or pawned their jewels for a sum to venture in the alley. the inordinate thirst of gain that had afflicted all ranks of society, was not to be slaked even in the south sea. other schemes, of the most extravagant kind, were started. the share-lists were speedily filled up, and an enormous traffic carried on in shares, while, of course, every means were resorted to, to raise them to an artificial value in the market. contrary to all expectation, south sea stock fell when the bill received the royal assent. on the th of april the shares were quoted at three hundred and ten, and on the following day, at two hundred and ninety. already the directors had tasted the profits of their scheme, and it was not likely that they should quietly allow the stock to find its natural level, without an effort to raise it. immediately their busy emissaries were set to work. every person interested in the success of the project endeavoured to draw a knot of listeners around him, to whom he expatiated on the treasures of the south american seas. exchange alley was crowded with attentive groups. one rumour alone, asserted with the utmost confidence, had an immediate effect upon the stock. it was said, that earl stanhope had received overtures in france from the spanish government to exchange gibraltar and port mahon for some places on the coast of peru, for the security and enlargement of the trade in the south seas. instead of one annual ship trading to those ports, and allowing the king of spain twenty-five per cent. out of the profits, the company might build and charter as many ships as they pleased, and pay no per centage whatever to any foreign potentate. visions of ingots danced before their eyes, and stock rose rapidly. on the th of april, five days after the bill had become law, the directors opened their books for a subscription of a million, at the rate of pounds for every pounds capital. such was the concourse of persons, of all ranks, that this first subscription was found to amount to above two millions of original stock. it was to be paid at five payments, of pounds each for every pounds. in a few days the stock advanced to three hundred and forty, and the subscriptions were sold for double the price of the first payment. to raise the stock still higher, it was declared, in a general court of directors, on the st of april, that the midsummer dividend should be ten per cent., and that all subscriptions should be entitled to the same. these resolutions answering the end designed, the directors, to improve the infatuation of the monied men, opened their books for a second subscription of a million, at four hundred per cent. such was the frantic eagerness of people of every class to speculate in these funds, that in the course of a few hours no less than a million and a half was subscribed at that rate. in the mean time, innumerable joint-stock companies started up everywhere. they soon received the name of bubbles, the most appropriate that imagination could devise. the populace are often most happy in the nicknames they employ. none could be more apt than that of bubbles. some of them lasted for a week, or a fortnight, and were no more heard of, while others could not even live out that short span of existence. every evening produced new schemes, and every morning new projects. the highest of the aristocracy were as eager in this hot pursuit of gain as the most plodding jobber in cornhill. the prince of wales became governor of one company, and is said to have cleared , pounds by his speculations. [coxe's walpole, correspondence between mr. secretary craggs and earl stanhope.] the duke of bridgewater started a scheme for the improvement of london and westminster, and the duke of chandos another. there were nearly a hundred different projects, each more extravagant and deceptive than the other. to use the words of the "political state," they were "set on foot and promoted by crafty knaves, then pursued by multitudes of covetous fools, and at last appeared to be, in effect, what their vulgar appellation denoted them to be--bubbles and mere cheats." it was computed that near one million and a half sterling was won and lost by these unwarrantable practices, to the impoverishment of many a fool, and the enriching of many a rogue. some of these schemes were plausible enough, and, had they been undertaken at a time when the public mind was unexcited, might have been pursued with advantage to all concerned. but they were established merely with the view of raising the shares in the market. the projectors took the first opportunity of a rise to sell out, and next morning the scheme was at an end. maitland, in his history of london, gravely informs us, that one of the projects which received great encouragement, was for the establishment of a company "to make deal-boards out of saw-dust." this is, no doubt, intended as a joke; but there is abundance of evidence to show that dozens of schemes hardly a whir more reasonable, lived their little day, ruining hundreds ere they fell. one of them was for a wheel for perpetual motion--capital, one million; another was "for encouraging the breed of horses in england, and improving of glebe and church lands, and repairing and rebuilding parsonage and vicarage houses." why the clergy, who were so mainly interested in the latter clause, should have taken so much interest in the first, is only to be explained on the supposition that the scheme was projected by a knot of the foxhunting parsons, once so common in england. the shares of this company were rapidly subscribed for. but the most absurd and preposterous of all, and which showed, more completely than any other, the utter madness of the people, was one, started by an unknown adventurer, entitled "company for carrying on an undertaking of great advantage, but nobody to know what it is." were not the fact stated by scores of credible witnesses, it would be impossible to believe that any person could have been duped by such a project. the man of genius who essayed this bold and successful inroad upon public credulity, merely stated in his prospectus that the required capital was half a million, in five thousand shares of pounds each, deposit pounds per share. each subscriber, paying his deposit, would be entitled to pounds per annum per share. how this immense profit was to be obtained, he did not condescend to inform them at that time, but promised, that in a month full particulars should be duly announced, and a call made for the remaining pounds of the subscription. next morning, at nine o'clock, this great man opened an office in cornhill. crowds of people beset his door, and when he shut up at three o'clock, he found that no less than one thousand shares had been subscribed for, and the deposits paid. he was thus, in five hours, the winner of , pounds. he was philosopher enough to be contented with his venture, and set off the same evening for the continent. he was never heard of again. well might swift exclaim, comparing change alley to a gulf in the south sea,-- subscribers here by thousands float, and jostle one another down, each paddling in his leaky boat, and here they fish for gold, and drown. now buried in the depths below, now mounted up to heaven again, they reel and stagger to and fro, at their wit's end, like drunken men meantime, secure on garraway cliffs, a savage race, by shipwrecks fed, lie waiting for the foundered skiffs, and strip the bodies of the dead. another fraud that was very successful, was that of the "globe permits," as they were called. they were nothing more than square pieces of playing cards, on which was the impression of a seal, in wax, bearing the sign of the globe tavern, in the neighbourhood of exchange alley, with the inscription of "sail cloth permits." the possessors enjoyed no other advantage from them than permission to subscribe, at some future time, to a new sail-cloth manufactory, projected by one who was then known to be a man of fortune, but who was afterwards involved in the peculation and punishment of the south sea directors. these permits sold for as much as sixty guineas in the alley. persons of distinction, of both sexes, were deeply engaged in all these bubbles, those of the male sex going to taverns and coffee-houses to meet their brokers, and the ladies resorting for the same purpose to the shops of milliners and haberdashers. but it did not follow that all these people believed in the feasibility of the schemes to which they subscribed; it was enough for their purpose that their shares would, by stock-jobbing arts, be soon raised to a premium, when they got rid of them with all expedition to the really credulous. so great was the confusion of the crowd in the alley, that shares in the same bubble were known to have been sold at the same instant ten per cent. higher at one end of the alley than at the other. sensible men beheld the extraordinary infatuation of the people with sorrow and alarm. there were some, both in and out of parliament, who foresaw clearly the ruin that was impending. mr. walpole did not cease his gloomy forebodings. his fears were shared by all the thinking few, and impressed most forcibly upon the government. on the th of june, the day the parliament rose, the king published a proclamation, declaring that all these unlawful projects should be deemed public nuisances, and prosecuted accordingly, and forbidding any broker, under a penalty of five hundred pounds, from buying or selling any shares in them. notwithstanding this proclamation, roguish speculators still carried them on, and the deluded people still encouraged them. on the th of july, an order of the lords justices assembled in privy council was published, dismissing all the petitions that had been presented for patents and charters, and dissolving all the bubble companies. the following copy of their lordships' order, containing a list of all these nefarious projects, will not be deemed uninteresting at the present day, when there is but too much tendency in the public mind to indulge in similar practices:-- "at the council chamber, whitehall, the th day of july, . present, their excellencies the lords justices in council. "their excellencies, the lords justices in council, taking into consideration the many inconveniences arising to the public from several projects set on foot for raising of joint stock for various purposes, and that a great many of his majesty's subjects have been drawn in to part with their money on pretence of assurances that their petitions for patents and charters, to enable them to carry on the same, would be granted: to prevent such impositions, their excellencies, this day, ordered the said several petitions, together with such reports from the board of trade, and from his majesty's attorney and solicitor general, as had been obtained thereon, to be laid before them, and after mature consideration thereof, were pleased, by advice of his majesty's privy council, to order that the said petitions be dismissed, which are as follow:-- " . petition of several persons, praying letters patent for carrying on a fishing trade, by the name of the grand fishery of great britain. " . petition of the company of the royal fishery of england, praying letters patent for such further powers as will effectually contribute to carry on the said fishery. " . petition of george james, on behalf of himself and divers persons of distinction concerned in a national fishery; praying letters patent of incorporation to enable them to carry on the same. " . petition of several merchants, traders, and others, whose names are thereunto subscribed, praying to be incorporated for reviving and carrying on a whale fishery to greenland and elsewhere. " . petition of sir john lambert, and others thereto subscribing, on behalf of themselves and a great number of merchants, praying to be incorporated for carrying on a greenland trade, and particularly a whale fishery in davis's straits. " . another petition for a greenland trade. " . petition of several merchants, gentlemen, and citizens, praying to be incorporated, for buying and building of ships to let or freight. " . petition of samuel antrim and others, praying for letters patent for sowing hemp and flax. " . petition of several merchants, masters of ships, sail-makers, and manufacturers of sail-cloth, praying a charter of incorporation, to enable them to carry on and promote the said manufactory by a joint stock. " . petition of thomas boyd, and several hundred merchants, owners and masters of ships, sailmakers, weavers, and other traders, praying a charter of incorporation, empowering them to borrow money for purchasing lands, in order to the manufacturing sail-cloth and fine holland. " . petition on behalf of several persons interested in a patent granted by the late king william and queen mary, for the making of linen and sail-cloth, praying that no charter may be granted to any persons whatsoever for making sail-cloth, but that the privilege now enjoyed by them may be confirmed, and likewise an additional power to carry on the cotton and cotton-silk manufactures. " . petition of several citizens, merchants, and traders in london, and others, subscribers to a british stock, for a general insurance from fire in any part of england, praying to be incorporated for carrying on the said undertaking. " . petition of several of his majesty's loyal subjects of the city of london, and other parts of great britain, praying to be incorporated, for carrying on a general insurance from losses by fire within the kingdom of england. " . petition of thomas burges, and others his majesty's subjects thereto subscribing, in behalf of themselves and others, subscribers to a fund of , , pounds, for carrying on a trade to his majesty's german dominions, praying to be incorporated, by the name of the harburg company. " . petition of edward jones, a dealer in timber, on behalf of himself and others, praying to be incorporated for the importation of timber from germany. " . petition of several merchants of london, praying a charter of incorporation for carrying on a salt-work. " . petition of captain macphedris, of london, merchant, on behalf of himself and several merchants, clothiers, hatters, dyers, and other traders, praying a charter of incorporation, empowering them to raise a sufficient sum of money to purchase lands for planting and rearing a wood called madder, for the use of dyers. " . petition of joseph galendo, of london, snuff-maker, praying a patent for his invention to prepare and cure virginia tobacco for snuff in virginia, and making it into the same in all his majesty's dominions." list of bubbles. the following bubble companies were by the same order declared to be illegal, and abolished accordingly:-- . for the importation of swedish iron. . for supplying london with sea-coal. capital, three millions. . for building and rebuilding houses throughout all england. capital, three millions. . for making of muslin. . for carrying on and improving the british alum works. . for effectually settling the island of blanco and sal tartagus. . for supplying the town of deal with fresh water. . for the importation of flanders lace. . for improvement of lands in great britain. capital, four millions. . for encouraging the breed of horses in england, and improving of glebe and church lands, and for repairing and rebuilding parsonage and vicarage houses. . for making of iron and steel in great britain. . for improving the land in the county of flint. capital, one million. . for purchasing lands to build on. capital, two millions. . for trading in hair. . for erecting salt-works in holy island. capital, two millions. . for buying and selling estates, and lending money on mortgage. . for carrying on an undertaking of great advantage, but nobody to know what it is. . for paving the streets of london. capital, two millions. . for furnishing funerals to any part of great britain. . for buying and selling lands and lending money at interest. capital, five millions. . for carrying on the royal fishery of great britain. capital, ten millions. . for assuring of seamen's wages. . for erecting loan-offices for the assistance and encouragement of the industrious. capital, two millions. . for purchasing and improving leasable lands. capital, four millions. . for importing pitch and tar, and other naval stores, from north britain and america. . for the clothing, felt, and pantile trade. . for purchasing and improving a manor and royalty in essex. . for insuring of horses. capital, two millions. . for exporting the woollen manufacture, and importing copper, brass, and iron. capital, four millions. . for a grand dispensary. capital, three millions. . for erecting mills and purchasing lead mines. capital, two millions. . for improving the art of making soap. . for a settlement on the island of santa cruz. . for sinking pits and smelting lead ore in derbyshire. . for making glass bottles and other glass. . for a wheel for perpetual motion. capital, one million. . for improving of gardens. . for insuring and increasing children's fortunes. . for entering and loading goods at the custom-house, and for negotiating business for merchants. . for carrying on a woollen manufacture in the north of england. . for importing walnut-trees from virginia. capital, two millions. . for making manchester stuffs of thread and cotton. . for making joppa and castile soap. . for improving the wrought-iron and steel manufactures of this kingdom. capital, four millions. . for dealing in lace, hollands, cambrics, lawns, &c. capital, two millions. . for trading in and improving certain commodities of the produce of this kingdom, &c. capital, three millions. . for supplying the london markets with cattle. . for making looking-glasses, coach glasses, &c. capital, two millions. . for working the tin and lead mines in cornwall and derbyshire. . for making rape-oil. . for importing beaver fur. capital, two millions. . for making pasteboard and packing-paper. . for importing of oils and other materials used in the woollen manufacture. . for improving and increasing the silk manufactures. . for lending money on stock, annuities, tallies, &c. . for paying pensions to widows and others, at a small discount. capital, two millions. . for improving malt liquors. capital, four millions. . for a grand american fishery. . for purchasing and improving the fenny lands in lincolnshire. capital, two millions. . for improving the paper manufacture of great britain. . the bottomry company. . for drying malt by hot air. . for carrying on a trade in the river oronooko. . for the more effectual making of baize, in colchester and other parts of great britain. . for buying of naval stores, supplying the victualling, and paying the wages of the workmen. . for employing poor artificers, and furnishing merchants and others with watches. . for improvement of tillage and the breed of cattle. . another for the improvement of our breed of horses. . another for a horse-insurance. . for carrying on the corn trade of great britain. . for insuring to all masters and mistresses the losses they may sustain by servants. capital, three millions. . for erecting houses or hospitals, for taking in and maintaining illegitimate children. capital, two millions. . for bleaching coarse sugars, without the use of fire or loss of substance. . for building turnpikes and wharfs in great britain. . for insuring from thefts and robberies. . for extracting silver from lead. . for making china and delft ware. capital, one million. . for importing tobacco, and exporting it again to sweden and the north of europe. capital, four millions. . for making iron with pit coal. . for furnishing the cities of london and westminster with hay and straw. capital, three millions. . for a sail and packing cloth manufactory in ireland. . for taking up ballast. . for buying and fitting out ships to suppress pirates. . for the importation of timber from wales. capital, two millions. . for rock-salt. . for the transmutation of quicksilver into a malleable fine metal. besides these bubbles, many others sprang up daily, in spite of the condemnation of the government and the ridicule of the still sane portion of the public. the print-shops teemed with caricatures, and the newspapers with epigrams and satires, upon the prevalent folly. an ingenious card-maker published a pack of south sea playing-cards, which are now extremely rare, each card containing, besides the usual figures, of a very small size, in one corner, a caricature of a bubble company, with appropriate verses underneath. one of the most famous bubbles was "puckle's machine company," for discharging round and square cannon-balls and bullets, and making a total revolution in the art of war. its pretensions to public favour were thus summed up, on the eight of spades:-- a rare invention to destroy the crowd of fools at home, instead of fools abroad. fear not, my friends, this terrible machine, they're only wounded who have shares therein. the nine of hearts was a caricature of the english copper and brass company, with the following epigram:-- the headlong fool that wants to be a swopper of gold and silver coin for english copper, may, in change alley, prove himself an ass, and give rich metal for adulterate brass. the eight of diamonds celebrated the company for the colonization of acadia, with this doggrel:-- he that is rich and wants to fool away a good round sum in north america, let him subscribe himself a headlong sharer, and asses' ears shall honour him or bearer. and in a similar style every card of the pack exposed some knavish scheme, and ridiculed the persons who were its dupes. it was computed that the total amount of the sums proposed for carrying on these projects was upwards of three hundred millions sterling, a sum so immense that it exceeded the value of all the lands in england at twenty years' purchase. it is time, however, to return to the great south sea gulf, that swallowed the fortunes of so many thousands of the avaricious and the credulous. on the th of may, the stock had risen as high as five hundred, and about two-thirds of the government annuitants had exchanged the securities of the state for those of the south sea company. during the whole of the month of may the stock continued to rise, and on the th it was quoted at five hundred and fifty. in four days after this it took a prodigious leap, rising suddenly from five hundred and fifty to eight hundred and ninety. it was now the general opinion that the stock could rise no higher, and many persons took that opportunity of selling out, with a view of realising their profits. many noblemen and persons in the train of the king, and about to accompany him to hanover, were also anxious to sell out. so many sellers, and so few buyers, appeared in the alley on the rd of june, that the stock fell at once from eight hundred and ninety to six hundred and forty. the directors were alarmed, and gave their agents orders to buy. their efforts succeeded. towards evening confidence was restored, and the stock advanced to seven hundred and fifty. it continued at this price, with some slight fluctuation, until the company closed their books on the nd of june. it would be needless and uninteresting to detail the various arts employed by the directors to keep up the price of stock. it will be sufficient to state that it finally rose to one thousand per cent. it was quoted at this price in the commencement of august. the bubble was then full-blown, and began to quiver and shake, preparatory to its bursting. many of the government annuitants expressed dissatisfaction against the directors. they accused them of partiality in making out the lists for shares in each subscription. further uneasiness was occasioned by its being generally known that sir john blunt, the chairman, and some others, had sold out. during the whole of the month of august the stock fell, and on the nd of september it was quoted at seven hundred only. the state of things now became alarming. to prevent, if possible, the utter extinction of public confidence in their proceedings, the directors summoned a general court of the whole corporation, to meet in merchant tailors' hall, on the th of september. by nine o'clock in the morning, the room was filled to suffocation; cheapside was blocked up by a crowd unable to gain admittance, and the greatest excitement prevailed. the directors and their friends mustered in great numbers. sir john fellowes, the sub-governor, was called to the chair. he acquainted the assembly with the cause of their meeting, read to them the several resolutions of the court of directors, and gave them an account of their proceedings; of the taking in the redeemable and unredeemable funds, and of the subscriptions in money. mr. secretary craggs then made a short speech, wherein he commended the conduct of the directors, and urged that nothing could more effectually contribute to the bringing this scheme to perfection than union among themselves. he concluded with a motion for thanking the court of directors for their prudent and skilful management, and for desiring them to proceed in such manner as they should think most proper for the interest and advantage of the corporation. mr. hungerford, who had rendered himself very conspicuous in the house of commons for his zeal in behalf of the south sea company, and who was shrewdly suspected to have been a considerable gainer by knowing the right time to sell out, was very magniloquent on this occasion. he said that he had seen the rise and fall, the decay and resurrection of many communities of this nature, but that, in his opinion, none had ever performed such wonderful things in so short a time as the south sea company. they had done more than the crown, the pulpit, or the bench could do. they had reconciled all parties in one common interest; they had laid asleep, if not wholly extinguished, all the domestic jars and animosities of the nation. by the rise of their stock, monied men had vastly increased their fortunes; country-gentlemen had seen the value of their lands doubled and trebled in their hands. they had at the same time done good to the church, not a few of the reverend clergy having got great sums by the project. in short, they had enriched the whole nation, and he hoped they had not forgotten themselves. there was some hissing at the latter part of this speech, which for the extravagance of its eulogy was not far removed from satire; but the directors and their friends, and all the winners in the room, applauded vehemently. the duke of portland spoke in a similar strain, and expressed his great wonder why anybody should be dissatisfied: of course, he was a winner by his speculations, and in a condition similar to that of the fat alderman in joe miller's jests, who, whenever he had eaten a good dinner, folded his hands upon his paunch, and expressed his doubts whether there could be a hungry man in the world. several resolutions were passed at this meeting, but they had no effect upon the public. upon the very same evening the stock fell to six hundred and forty, and on the morrow to five hundred and forty. day after day it continued to fall, until it was as low as four hundred. in a letter dated september th, from mr. broderick, m.p. to lord chancellor middleton, and published in coxo's walpole, the former says,--"various are the conjectures why the south sea directors have suffered the cloud to break so early. i made no doubt but they would do so when they found it to their advantage. they have stretched credit so far beyond what it would bear, that specie proves insufficient to support it. their most considerable men have drawn out, securing themselves by the losses of the deluded, thoughtless numbers, whose understandings have been overruled by avarice and the hope of making mountains out of mole-hills. thousands of families will be reduced to beggary. the consternation is inexpressible--the rage beyond description, and the case altogether so desperate that i do not see any plan or scheme so much as thought of for averting the blow, so that i cannot pretend to guess what is next to be done." ten days afterwards, the stock still falling, he writes,--"the company have yet come to no determination, for they are in such a wood that they know not which way to turn. by several gentlemen lately come to town, i perceive the very name of a south-sea-man grows abominable in every country. a great many goldsmiths are already run off, and more will daily. i question whether one-third, nay, one-fourth, of them can stand it. from the very beginning, i founded my judgment of the whole affair upon the unquestionable maxim, that ten millions (which is more than our running cash) could not circulate two hundred millions, beyond which our paper credit extended. that, therefore, whenever that should become doubtful, be the cause what it would, our noble state machine must inevitably fall to the ground." on the th of september, at the earnest solicitation of mr. secretary craggs, several conferences were held between the directors of the south sea and the directors of the bank. a report which was circulated, that the latter had agreed to circulate six millions of the south sea company's bonds, caused the stock to rise to six hundred and seventy; but in the afternoon, as soon as the report was known to be groundless, the stock fell again to five hundred and eighty; the next day to five hundred and seventy, and so gradually to four hundred. [gay (the poet), in that disastrous year, had a present from young craggs of some south sea stock, and once supposed himself to be master of twenty thousand pounds. his friends persuaded him to sell his share, but he dreamed of dignity and splendour, and could not bear to obstruct his own fortune. he was then importuned to sell as much as would purchase a hundred a year for life, "which," says fenton, "will make you sure of a clean shirt and a shoulder of mutton every day." this counsel was rejected; the profit and principal were lost, and gay sunk under the calamity so low that his life became in danger.--johnson's lives of the poets.] the ministry were seriously alarmed at the aspect of affairs. the directors could not appear in the streets without being insulted; dangerous riots were every moment apprehended. despatches were sent off to the king at hanover, praying his immediate return. mr. walpole, who was staying at his country-seat, was sent for, that he might employ his known influence with the directors of the bank of england to induce them to accept the proposal made by the south sea company for circulating a number of their bonds. the bank was very unwilling to mix itself up with the affairs of the company; it dreaded being involved in calamities which it could not relieve, and received all overtures with visible reluctance. but the universal voice of the nation called upon it to come to the rescue. every person of note in commercial politics was called in to advise in the emergency. a rough draft of a contract drawn up by mr. walpole was ultimately adopted as the basis of further negotiations, and the public alarm abated a little. on the following day, the th of september, a general court of the south sea company was held at merchant tailors' hall, in which resolutions were carried, empowering the directors to agree with the bank of england, or any other persons, to circulate the company's bonds, or make any other agreement with the bank which they should think proper. one of the speakers, a mr. pulteney, said it was most surprising to see the extraordinary panic which had seized upon the people. men were running to and fro in alarm and terror, their imaginations filled with some great calamity, the form and dimensions of which nobody knew. "black it stood as night-- fierce as ten furies--terrible as hell." at a general court of the bank of england held two days afterwards, the governor informed them of the several meetings that had been held on the affairs of the south sea company, adding that the directors had not yet thought fit to come to any decision upon the matter. a resolution was then proposed, and carried without a dissentient voice, empowering the directors to agree with those of the south sea to circulate their bonds, to what sum, and upon what terms, and for what time, they might think proper. thus both parties were at liberty to act as they might judge best for the public interest. books were opened at the bank for a subscription of three millions for the support of public credit, on the usual terms of pounds per cent. deposit, per cent. premium, and pounds per cent. interest. so great was the concourse of people in the early part of the morning, all eagerly bringing their money, that it was thought the subscription would be filled that day; but before noon, the tide turned. in spite of all that could be done to prevent it, the south sea company's stock fell rapidly. their bonds were in such discredit, that a run commenced upon the most eminent goldsmiths and bankers, some of whom having lent out great sums upon south sea stock were obliged to shut up their shops and abscond. the sword-blade company, who had hitherto been the chief cashiers of the south sea company, stopped payment. this being looked upon as but the beginning of evil, occasioned a great run upon the bank, who were now obliged to pay out money much faster than they had received it upon the subscription in the morning. the day succeeding was a holiday (the th of september), and the bank had a little breathing time. they bore up against the storm; but their former rivals, the south sea company, were wrecked upon it. their stock fell to one hundred and fifty, and gradually, after various fluctuations, to one hundred and thirty-five. the bank, finding they were not able to restore public confidence, and stem the tide of ruin, without running the risk of being swept away with those they intended to save, declined to carry out the agreement into which they had partially entered. they were under no obligation whatever to continue; for the so called bank contract was nothing more than the rough draught of an agreement, in which blanks had been left for several important particulars, and which contained no penalty for their secession. "and thus," to use the words of the parliamentary history, "were seen, in the space of eight months, the rise, progress, and fall of that mighty fabric, which, being wound up by mysterious springs to a wonderful height, had fixed the eyes and expectations of all europe, but whose foundation, being fraud, illusion, credulity, and infatuation, fell to the ground as soon as the artful management of its directors was discovered." in the hey-day of its blood, during the progress of this dangerous delusion, the manners of the nation became sensibly corrupted. the parliamentary inquiry, set on foot to discover the delinquents, disclosed scenes of infamy, disgraceful alike to the morals of the offenders and the intellects of the people among whom they had arisen. it is a deeply interesting study to investigate all the evils that were the result. nations, like individuals, cannot become desperate gamblers with impunity. punishment is sure to overtake them sooner or later. a celebrated writer [smollett.] is quite wrong, when he says, "that such an era as this is the most unfavourable for a historian; that no reader of sentiment and imagination can be entertained or interested by a detail of transactions such as these, which admit of no warmth, no colouring, no embellishment; a detail of which only serves to exhibit an inanimate picture of tasteless vice and mean degeneracy." on the contrary, and smollett might have discovered it, if he had been in the humour--the subject is capable of inspiring as much interest as even a novelist can desire. is there no warmth in the despair of a plundered people?--no life and animation in the picture which might be drawn of the woes of hundreds of impoverished and ruined families? of the wealthy of yesterday become the beggars of to-day? of the powerful and influential changed into exiles and outcasts, and the voice of self-reproach and imprecation resounding from every corner of the land? is it a dull or uninstructive picture to see a whole people shaking suddenly off the trammels of reason, and running wild after a golden vision, refusing obstinately to believe that it is not real, till, like a deluded hind running after an ignis fatuus, they are plunged into a quagmire? but in this false spirit has history too often been written. the intrigues of unworthy courtiers to gain the favour of still more unworthy kings; or the records of murderous battles and sieges have been dilated on, and told over and over again, with all the eloquence of style and all the charms of fancy; while the circumstances which have most deeply affected the morals and welfare of the people, have been passed over with but slight notice as dry and dull, and capable of neither warmth nor colouring. during the progress of this famous bubble, england presented a singular spectacle. the public mind was in a state of unwholesome fermentation. men were no longer satisfied with the slow but sure profits of cautious industry. the hope of boundless wealth for the morrow made them heedless and extravagant for to-day. a luxury, till then unheard-of, was introduced, bringing in its train a corresponding laxity of morals. the overbearing insolence of ignorant men, who had arisen to sudden wealth by successful gambling, made men of true gentility of mind and manners, blush that gold should have power to raise the unworthy in the scale of society. the haughtiness of some of these "cyphering cits," as they were termed by sir richard steele, was remembered against them in the day of their adversity. in the parliamentary inquiry, many of the directors suffered more for their insolence than for their peculation. one of them, who, in the full-blown pride of an ignorant rich man, had said that he would feed his horse upon gold, was reduced almost to bread and water for himself; every haughty look, every overbearing speech, was set down, and repaid them a hundredfold in poverty and humiliation. the state of matters all over the country was so alarming, that george i shortened his intended stay in hanover, and returned in all haste to england. he arrived on the th of november, and parliament was summoned to meet on the th of december. in the mean time, public meetings were held in every considerable town of the empire, at which petitions were adopted, praying the vengeance of the legislature upon the south sea directors, who, by their fraudulent practices, had brought the nation to the brink of ruin. nobody seemed to imagine that the nation itself was as culpable as the south sea company. nobody blamed the credulity and avarice of the people,--the degrading lust of gain, which had swallowed up every nobler quality in the national character, or the infatuation which had made the multitude run their heads with such frantic eagerness into the net held out for them by scheming projectors. these things were never mentioned. the people were a simple, honest, hard-working people, ruined by a gang of robbers, who were to be hanged, drawn, and quartered without mercy. this was the almost unanimous feeling of the country. the two houses of parliament were not more reasonable. before the guilt of the south sea directors was known, punishment was the only cry. the king, in his speech from the throne, expressed his hope that they would remember that all their prudence, temper, and resolution were necessary to find out and apply the proper remedy for their misfortunes. in the debate on the answer to the address, several speakers indulged in the most violent invectives against the directors of the south sea project. the lord molesworth was particularly vehement. "it had been said by some, that there was no law to punish the directors of the south sea company, who were justly looked upon as the authors of the present misfortunes of the state. in his opinion they ought, upon this occasion, to follow the example of the ancient romans, who, having no law against parricide, because their legislators supposed no son could be so unnaturally wicked as to embrue his hands in his father's blood, made a law to punish this heinous crime as soon as it was committed. they adjudged the guilty wretch to be sown in a sack, and thrown alive into the tyber. he looked upon the contrivers and executors of the villanous south sea scheme as the parricides of their country, and should be satisfied to see them tied in like manner in sacks, and thrown into the thames." other members spoke with as much want of temper and discretion. mr. walpole was more moderate. he recommended that their first care should be to restore public credit. "if the city of london were on fire, all wise men would aid in extinguishing the flames, and preventing the spread of the conflagration before they inquired after the incendiaries. public credit had received a dangerous wound, and lay bleeding, and they ought to apply a speedy remedy to it. it was time enough to punish the assassin afterwards." on the th of december an address, in answer to his majesty's speech, was agreed upon, after an amendment, which was carried without a division, that words should be added expressive of the determination of the house not only to seek a remedy for the national distresses, but to punish the authors of them. the inquiry proceeded rapidly. the directors were ordered to lay before the house a full account of all their proceedings. resolutions were passed to the effect that the calamity was mainly owing to the vile arts of stockjobbers, and that nothing could tend more to the re-establishment of public credit than a law to prevent this infamous practice. mr. walpole then rose, and said, that "as he had previously hinted, he had spent some time upon a scheme for restoring public credit, but that, the execution of it depending upon a position which had been laid down as fundamental, he thought it proper, before he opened out his scheme, to be informed whether he might rely upon that foundation. it was, whether the subscription of public debts and encumbrances, money subscriptions, and other contracts, made with the south sea company should remain in the present state?" this question occasioned an animated debate. it was finally agreed, by a majority of against , that all these contracts should remain in their present state, unless altered for the relief of the proprietors by a general court of the south sea company, or set aside by due course of law. on the following day mr. walpole laid before a committee of the whole house his scheme for the restoration of public credit, which was, in substance, to ingraft nine millions of south sea stock into the bank of england, and the same sum into the east india company, upon certain conditions. the plan was favourably received by the house. after some few objections, it was ordered that proposals should be received from the two great corporations. they were both unwilling to lend their aid, and the plan met with a warm but fruitless opposition at the general courts summoned for the purpose of deliberating upon it. they, however, ultimately agreed upon the terms on which they would consent to circulate the south sea bonds, and their report, being presented to the committee, a bill was brought in, under the superintendence of mr. walpole, and safely carried through both houses of parliament. a bill was at the same time brought in, for restraining the south sea directors, governor, sub-governor, treasurer, cashier, and clerks from leaving the kingdom for a twelvemonth, and for discovering their estates and effects, and preventing them from transporting or alienating the same. all the most influential members of the house supported the bill. mr. shippen, seeing mr. secretary craggs in his place, and believing the injurious rumours that were afloat of that minister's conduct in the south sea business, determined to touch him to the quick. he said, he was glad to see a british house of commons resuming its pristine vigour and spirit, and acting with so much unanimity for the public good. it was necessary to secure the persons and estates of the south sea directors and their officers; "but," he added, looking fixedly at mr. craggs as he spoke, "there were other men in high station, whom, in time, he would not be afraid to name, who were no less guilty than the directors." mr. craggs arose in great wrath, and said, that if the innuendo were directed against him, he was ready to give satisfaction to any man who questioned him, either in the house or out of it. loud cries of order immediately arose on every side. in the midst of the uproar lord molesworth got up, and expressed his wonder at the boldness of mr. craggs in challenging the whole house of commons. he, lord molesworth, though somewhat old, past sixty, would answer mr. craggs whatever he had to say in the house, and he trusted there were plenty of young men beside him, who would not be afraid to look mr. craggs in the face, out of the house. the cries of order again resounded from every side; the members arose simultaneously; everybody seemed to be vociferating at once. the speaker in vain called order. the confusion lasted several minutes, during which lord molesworth and mr. craggs were almost the only members who kept their seats. at last the call for mr. craggs became so violent that he thought proper to submit to the universal feeling of the house, and explain his unparliamentary expression. he said, that by giving satisfaction to the impugners of his conduct in that house, he did not mean that he would fight, but that he would explain his conduct. here the matter ended, and the house proceeded to debate in what manner they should conduct their inquiry into the affairs of the south sea company, whether in a grand or a select committee. ultimately, a secret committee of thirteen was appointed, with power to send for persons, papers, and records. the lords were as zealous and as hasty as the commons. the bishop of rochester said the scheme had been like a pestilence. the duke of wharton said the house ought to show no respect of persons; that, for his part, he would give up the dearest friend he had, if he had been engaged in the project. the nation had been plundered in a most shameful and flagrant manner, and he would go as far as anybody in the punishment of the offenders. lord stanhope said, that every farthing possessed by the criminals, whether directors or not directors, ought to be confiscated, to make good the public losses. during all this time the public excitement was extreme. we learn, front coxe's walpole, that the very name of a south sea director was thought to be synonymous with every species of fraud and villany. petitions from counties, cities, and boroughs, in all parts of the kingdom, were presented, crying for the justice due to an injured nation and the punishment of the villanous peculators. those moderate men, who would not go to extreme lengths, even in the punishment of the guilty, were accused of being accomplices, were exposed to repeated insults and virulent invectives, and devoted, both in anonymous letters and public writings, to the speedy vengeance of an injured people. the accusations against mr. aislabie, chancellor of the exchequer, and mr. craggs, another member of the ministry, were so loud, that the house of lords resolved to proceed at once into the investigation concerning them. it was ordered, on the st of january, that all brokers concerned in the south sea scheme should lay before the house an account of the stock or subscriptions bought or sold by them for any of the officers of the treasury or exchequer, or in trust for any of them, since michaelmas . when this account was delivered, it appeared that large quantities of stock had been transferred to the use of mr. aislabie. five of the south sea directors, including mr. edward gibbon, the grandfather of the celebrated historian, were ordered into the custody of the black rod. upon a motion made by earl stanhope, it was unanimously resolved, that the taking in or giving credit for stock without a valuable consideration actually paid or sufficiently secured; or the purchasing stock by any director or agent of the south sea company, for the use or benefit of any member of the administration, or any member of either house of parliament, during such time as the south sea bill was yet pending in parliament, was a notorious and dangerous corruption. another resolution was passed a few days afterwards, to the effect that several of the directors and officers of the company having, in a clandestine manner, sold their own stock to the company, had been guilty of a notorious fraud and breach of trust, and had thereby mainly caused the unhappy turn of affairs that had so much affected public credit. mr. aislabie resigned his office as chancellor of the exchequer, and absented himself from parliament until the formal inquiry into his individual guilt was brought under the consideration of the legislature. in the mean time, knight, the treasurer of the company, and who was intrusted with all the dangerous secrets of the dishonest directors, packed up his books and documents, and made his escape from the country. he embarked in disguise, in a small boat on the river, and proceeding to a vessel hired for the purpose, was safely conveyed to calais. the committee of secrecy informed the house of the circumstance, when it was resolved unanimously that two addresses should be presented to the king; the first praying that he would issue a proclamation, offering a reward for the apprehension of knight; and the second, that he would give immediate orders to stop the ports, and to take effectual care of the coasts, to prevent the said knight, or any other officers of the south sea company, from escaping out of the kingdom. the ink was hardly dry upon these addresses before they were carried to the king by mr. methuen, deputed by the house for that purpose. the same evening a royal proclamation was issued, offering a reward of two thousand pounds for the apprehension of knight. the commons ordered the doors of the house to be locked, and the keys to be placed upon the table. general ross, one of the members of the committee of secrecy, acquainted them that they had already discovered a train of the deepest villany and fraud that hell had ever contrived to ruin a nation, which in due time they would lay before the house. in the mean time, in order to a further discovery, the committee thought it highly necessary to secure the persons of some of the directors and principal south sea officers, and to seize their papers. a motion to this effect having been made, was carried unanimously. sir robert chaplin, sir theodore janssen, mr. sawbridge, and mr. f. eyles, members of the house, and directors of the south sea company, were summoned to appear in their places, and answer for their corrupt practices. sir theodore janssen and mr. sawbridge answered to their names, and endeavoured to exculpate themselves. the house heard them patiently, and then ordered them to withdraw. a motion was then made, and carried nemine contradicente, that they had been guilty of a notorious breach of trust--had occasioned much loss to great numbers of his majesty's subjects, and had highly prejudiced the public credit. it was then ordered that, for their offence, they should be expelled the house, and taken into the custody of the sergeant-at-arms. sir robert chaplin and mr. eyles, attending in their places four days afterwards, were also expelled the house. it was resolved at the same time to address the king, to give directions to his ministers at foreign courts to make application for knight, that he might be delivered up to the english authorities, in ease he took refuge in any of their dominions. the king at once agreed, and messengers were despatched to all parts of the continent the same night. among the directors taken into custody, was sir john blunt, the man whom popular opinion has generally accused of having been the original author and father of the scheme. this man, we are informed by pope, in his epistle to allen, lord bathurst, was a dissenter, of a most religious deportment, and professed to be a great believer. he constantly declaimed against the luxury and corruption of the age, the partiality of parliaments, and the misery of party spirit. he was particularly eloquent against avarice in great and noble persons. he was originally a scrivener, and afterwards became, not only a director, but the most active manager of the south sea company. whether it was during his career in this capacity that he first began to declaim against the avarice of the great, we are not informed. he certainly must have seen enough of it to justify his severest anathema; but if the preacher had himself been free from the vice he condemned, his declamations would have had a better effect. he was brought up in custody to the bar of the house of lords, and underwent a long examination. he refused to answer several important questions. he said he had been examined already by a committee of the house of commons, and as he did not remember his answers, and might contradict himself, he refused to answer before another tribunal. this declaration, in itself an indirect proof of guilt, occasioned some commotion in the house. he was again asked peremptorily whether he had ever sold any portion of the stock to any member of the administration, or any member of either house of parliament, to facilitate the passing of the hill. he again declined to answer. he was anxious, he said, to treat the house with all possible respect, but he thought it hard to be compelled to accuse himself. after several ineffectual attempts to refresh his memory, he was directed to withdraw. a violent discussion ensued between the friends and opponents of the ministry. it was asserted that the administration were no strangers to the convenient taciturnity of sir john blunt. the duke of wharton made a reflection upon the earl stanhope, which the latter warmly resented. he spoke under great excitement, and with such vehemence as to cause a sudden determination of blood to the head. he felt himself so ill that he was obliged to leave the house and retire to his chamber. he was cupped immediately, and also let blood on the following morning, but with slight relief. the fatal result was not anticipated. towards evening he became drowsy, and turning himself on his face, expired. the sudden death of this statesman caused great grief to the nation. george i was exceedingly affected, and shut himself up for some hours in his closet, inconsolable for his loss. knight, the treasurer of the company, was apprehended at tirlemont, near liege, by one of the secretaries of mr. leathes, the british resident at brussels, and lodged in the citadel of antwerp. repeated applications were made to the court of austria to deliver him up, but in vain. knight threw himself upon the protection of the states of brabant, and demanded to be tried in that country. it was a privilege granted to the states of brabant by one of the articles of the joyeuse entree, that every criminal apprehended in that country should be tried in that country. the states insisted on their privilege, and refused to deliver knight to the british authorities. the latter did not cease their solicitations; but in the mean time, knight escaped from the citadel. on the th of february the committee of secrecy made their first report to the house. they stated that their inquiry had been attended with numerous difficulties and embarrassments; every one they had examined had endeavoured, as far as in him lay, to defeat the ends of justice. in some of the books produced before them, false and fictitious entries had been made; in others, there were entries of money, with blanks for the name of the stockholders. there were frequent erasures and alterations, and in some of the books leaves were torn out. they also found that some books of great importance had been destroyed altogether, and that some had been taken away or secreted. at the very entrance into their inquiry, they had observed that the matters referred to them were of great variety and extent. many persons had been intrusted with various parts in the execution of the law, and under colour thereof had acted in an unwarrantable manner, in disposing of the properties of many thousands of persons, amounting to many millions of money. they discovered that, before the south sea act was passed, there was an entry in the company's books of the sum of , , pounds, upon account of stock stated to have been sold to the amount of , pounds. this stock was all fictitious, and had been disposed of with a view to promote the passing of the bill. it was noted as sold at various days, and at various prices, from to per cent. being surprised to see so large an account disposed of, at a time when the company were not empowered to increase their capital, the committee determined to investigate most carefully the whole transaction. the governor, sub-governor, and several directors were brought before them, and examined rigidly. they found that, at the time these entries were made, the company was not in possession of such a quantity of stock, having in their own right only a small quantity, not exceeding thirty thousand pounds at the utmost. pursuing the inquiry, they found that this amount of stock, was to be esteemed as taken in or holden by the company, for the benefit of the pretended purchasers, although no mutual agreement was made for its delivery or acceptance at any certain time. no money was paid down, nor any deposit or security whatever given to the company by the supposed purchasers; so that if the stock had fallen, as might have been expected, had the act not passed, they would have sustained no loss. if, on the contrary, the price of stock advanced (as it actually did by the success of the scheme), the difference by the advanced price was to be made good to them. accordingly, after the passing of the act, the account of stock was made up and adjusted with mr. knight, and the pretended purchasers were paid the difference out of the company's cash. this fictitious stock, which had been chiefly at the disposal of sir john blunt, mr. gibbon, and mr. knight, was distributed among several members of the government and their connexions, by way of bribe, to facilitate the passing of the bill. to the earl of sunderland was assigned , pounds of this stock; to the duchess of kendal , pounds; to the countess of platen , pounds; to her two nieces , pounds; to mr. secretary craggs , pounds; to mr. charles stanhope (one of the secretaries of the treasury) , pounds; to the swordblade company , pounds. it also appeared that mr. stanhope had received the enormous sum of , pounds as the difference in the price of some stock, through the hands of turner, caswall, and co., but that his name had been partly erased from their books, and altered to stangape. aislabie, the chancellor of the exchequer, had made profits still more abominable. he had an account with the same firm, who were also south sea directors, to the amount of , pounds. he had, besides, advised the company to make their second subscription one million and a half, instead of a million, by their own authority, and without any warrant. the third subscription had been conducted in a manner as disgraceful. mr. aislabie's name was down for , pounds; mr. craggs, senior, for , pounds; the earl of sunderland's for , pounds; and mr. stanhope for , pounds. this report was succeeded by six others, less important. at the end of the last, the committee declared that the absence of knight, who had been principally intrusted, prevented them from carrying on their inquiries. the first report was ordered to be printed, and taken into consideration on the next day but one succeeding. after a very angry and animated debate, a series of resolutions were agreed to, condemnatory of the conduct of the directors, of the members of the parliament and of the administration concerned with them; and declaring that they ought, each and all, to make satisfaction out of their own estates for the injury they had done the public. their practices were declared to be corrupt, infamous, and dangerous; and a bill was ordered to be brought in for the relief of the unhappy sufferers. mr. charles stanhope was the first person brought to account for his share in these transactions. he urged in his defence that, for some years past, he had lodged all the money he was possessed of in mr. knight's hands, and whatever stock mr. knight had taken in for him, he had paid a valuable consideration for it. as to the stock that had been bought for him by turner, caswall, and co. he knew nothing about it. whatever had been done in that matter was done without his authority, and he could not be responsible for it. turner and co. took the latter charge upon themselves, but it was notorious to every unbiased and unprejudiced person that mr. stanhope was a gainer of the , pounds which lay in the hands of that firm to his credit. he was, however, acquitted by a majority of three only. the greatest exertions were made to screen him. lord stanhope, the son of the earl of chesterfield, went round to the wavering members, using all the eloquence he was possessed of to induce them either to vote for the acquittal or to absent themselves from the house. many weak-headed country-gentlemen were led astray by his persuasions, and the result was as already stated. the acquittal caused the greatest discontent throughout the country. mobs of a menacing character assembled in different parts of london; fears of riots were generally entertained, especially as the examination of a still greater delinquent was expected by many to have a similar termination. mr. aislabie, whose high office and deep responsibilities should have kept him honest, even had native principle been insufficient, was very justly regarded as perhaps the greatest criminal of all. his case was entered into on the day succeeding the acquittal of mr. starthope. great excitement prevailed, and the lobbies and avenues of the house were beset by crowds, impatient to know the result. the debate lasted the whole day. mr. aislabie found few friends: his guilt was so apparent and so heinous that nobody had courage to stand up in his favour. it was finally resolved, without a dissentient voice, that mr. aislabie had encouraged and promoted the destructive execution of the south sea scheme with a view to his own exorbitant profit, and had combined with the directors in their pernicious practices to the ruin of the public trade and credit of the kingdom: that he should for his offences be ignominiously expelled from the house of commons, and committed a close prisoner to the tower of london; that he should be restrained from going out of the kingdom for a whole year, or till the end of the next session of parliament; and that he should make out a correct account of all his estate, in order that it might be applied to the relief of those who had suffered by his malpractices. this verdict caused the greatest joy. though it was delivered at half-past twelve at night, it soon spread over the city. several persons illuminated their houses in token of their joy. on the following day, when mr. aislabie was conveyed to the tower, the mob assembled on tower-hill with the intention of hooting and pelting him. not succeeding in this, they kindled a large bonfire, and danced around it in the exuberance of their delight. several bonfires were made in other places; london presented the appearance of a holiday, and people congratulated one another as if they had just escaped from some great calamity. the rage upon the acquittal of mr. stanhope had grown to such a height that none could tell where it would have ended, had mr. aislabie met with the like indulgence. to increase the public satisfaction, sir george caswall, of the firm of turner, caswall, & co. was expelled the house on the following day, and ordered to refund the sum of , pounds. that part of the report of the committee of secrecy which related to the earl of sunderland was next taken into consideration. every effort was made to clear his lordship from the imputation. as the case against him rested chiefly on the evidence extorted from sir john blunt, great pains were taken to make it appear that sir john's word was not to be believed, especially in a matter affecting the honour of a peer and privy councillor. all the friends of the ministry rallied around the earl, it being generally reported that a verdict of guilty against him would bring a tory ministry into power. he was eventually acquitted, by a majority of against ; but the country was convinced of his guilt. the greatest indignation was everywhere expressed, and menacing mobs again assembled in london. happily no disturbances took place. this was the day on which mr. craggs, the elder, expired. the morrow had been appointed for the consideration of his case. it was very generally believed that he had poisoned himself. it appeared, however, that grief for the loss of his son, one of the secretaries of the treasury, who had died five weeks previously of the small-pox, preyed much on his mind. for this son, dearly beloved, he had been amassing vast heaps of riches: he had been getting money, but not honestly; and he for whose sake he had bartered his honour and sullied his fame, was now no more. the dread of further exposure increased his trouble of mind, and ultimately brought on an apoplectic fit, in which he expired. he left a fortune of a million and a half, which was afterwards confiscated for the benefit of the sufferers by the unhappy delusion he had been so mainly instrumental in raising. one by one the case of every director of the company was taken into consideration. a sum amounting to two millions and fourteen thousand pounds was confiscated from their estates towards repairing the mischief they had done, each man being allowed a certain residue, in proportion to his conduct and circumstances, with which he might begin the world anew. sir john blunt was only allowed , pounds out of his fortune of upwards of , pounds; sir john fellows was allowed , pounds out of , pounds; sir theodore janssen, , pounds out of , pounds; mr. edward gibbon, , pounds out of , pounds.; sir john lambert, pounds out of , pounds. others, less deeply involved, were treated with greater liberality. gibbon, the historian, whose grandfather was the mr. edward gibbon so severely mulcted, has given, in the memoirs of his life and writings, an interesting account of the proceedings in parliament at this time. he owns that he is not an unprejudiced witness; but, as all the writers from which it is possible to extract any notice of the proceedings of these disastrous years, were prejudiced on the other side, the statements of the great historian become of additional value. if only on the principle of audi alteram partem, his opinion is entitled to consideration. "in the year ," he says, "my grandfather was elected one of the directors of the south sea company, and his books exhibited the proof that before his acceptance of that fatal office, he had acquired an independent fortune of , pounds. but his fortune was overwhelmed in the shipwreck of the year twenty, and the labours of thirty years were blasted in a single day. of the use or abuse of the south sea scheme, of the guilt or innocence of my grandfather and his brother directors, i am neither a competent nor a disinterested judge. yet the equity of modern times must condemn the violent and arbitrary proceedings, which would have disgraced the cause of justice, and rendered injustice still more odious. no sooner had the nation awakened from its golden dream, than a popular, and even a parliamentary clamour, demanded its victims; but it was acknowledged on all sides, that the directors, however guilty, could not be touched by any known laws of the land. the intemperate notions of lord molesworth were not literally acted on; but a bill of pains and penalties was introduced--a retro-active statute, to punish the offences which did not exist at the time they were committed. the legislature restrained the persons of the directors, imposed an exorbitant security for their appearance, and marked their character with a previous note of ignominy. they were compelled to deliver, upon oath, the strict value of their estates, and were disabled from making any transfer or alienation of any part of their property. against a bill of pains and penalties, it is the common right of every subject to be heard by his counsel at the bar. they prayed to be heard. their prayer was refused, and their oppressors, who required no evidence, would listen to no defence. it had been at first proposed, that one eighth of their respective estates should be allowed for the future support of the directors; but it was speciously urged, that in the various shades of opulence and guilt, such a proportion would be too light for many, and for some might possibly be too heavy. the character and conduct of each man were separately weighed; but, instead of the calm solemnity of a judicial inquiry, the fortune and honour of thirty-three englishmen were made the topics of hasty conversation, the sport of a lawless majority; and the basest member of the committee, by a malicious word, or a silent vote, might indulge his general spleen or personal animosity. injury was aggravated by insult, and insult was embittered by pleasantry. allowances of pounds or shilling were facetiously moved. a vague report that a director had formerly been concerned in another project, by which some unknown persons had lost their money, was admitted as a proof of his actual guilt. one man was ruined because he had dropped a foolish speech, that his horses should feed upon gold; another, because he was grown so proud, that one day, at the treasury, he had refused a civil answer to persons much above him. all were condemned, absent and unheard, in arbitrary fines and forfeitures, which swept away the greatest part of their substance. such bold oppression can scarcely be shielded by the omnipotence of parliament. my grandfather could not expect to be treated with more lenity than his companions. his tory principles and connexions rendered him obnoxious to the ruling powers. his name was reported in a suspicious secret. his well-known abilities could not plead the excuse of ignorance or error. in the first proceedings against the south sea directors, mr. gibbon was one of the first taken into custody, and in the final sentence the measure of his fine proclaimed him eminently guilty. the total estimate, which he delivered on oath to the house of commons, amounted to , pounds shillings pence, exclusive of antecedent settlements. two different allowances of , pounds and of , pounds were moved for mr. gibbon; but, on the question being put, it was carried without a division for the smaller sum. on these ruins, with the skill and credit of which parliament had not been able to despoil him, my grandfather, at a mature age, erected the edifice of a new fortune. the labours of sixteen years were amply rewarded; and i have reason to believe that the second structure was not much inferior to the first." the next consideration of the legislature, after the punishment of the directors, was to restore public credit. the scheme of walpole had been found insufficient, and had fallen into disrepute. a computation was made of the whole capital stock of the south sea company at the end of the year . it was found to amount to thirty-seven millions eight hundred thousand pounds, of which the stock allotted to all the proprietors only amounted to twenty-four millions five hundred thousand pounds. the remainder of thirteen millions three hundred thousand pounds belonged to the company in their corporate capacity, and was the profit they had made by the national delusion. upwards of eight millions of this were taken from the company, and divided among the proprietors and subscribers generally, making a dividend of about pounds shillings pence per cent. this was a great relief. it was further ordered, that such persons as had borrowed money from the south sea company upon stock actually transferred and pledged at the time of borrowing to or for the use of the company, should be free from all demands, upon payment of ten per cent. of the sums so borrowed. they had lent about eleven millions in this manner, at a time when prices were unnaturally raised; and they now received back one million one hundred thousand, when prices had sunk to their ordinary level. but it was a long time before public credit was thoroughly restored. enterprise, like icarus, had soared too high, and melted the wax of her wings; like icarus, she had fallen into a sea, and learned, while floundering in its waves, that her proper element was the solid ground. she has never since attempted so high a flight. in times of great commercial prosperity there has been a tendency to over-speculation on several occasions since then. the success of one project generally produces others of a similar kind. popular imitativeness will always, in a trading nation, seize hold of such successes, and drag a community too anxious for profits into an abyss from which extrication is difficult. bubble companies, of a kind similar to those engendered by the south sea project, lived their little day in the famous year of the panic, . on that occasion, as in , knavery gathered a rich harvest from cupidity, but both suffered when the day of reckoning came. the schemes of the year threatened, at one time, results as disastrous; but they were happily averted before it was too late. the south sea project thus remains, and, it is to be hoped, always will remain, the greatest example in british history, of the infatuation of the people for commercial gambling. from the bitter experience of that period, posterity may learn how dangerous it is to let speculation riot unrestrained, and to hope for enormous profits from inadequate causes. degrading as were the circumstances, there is wisdom to be gained from the lesson which they teach. the tulipomania. quis furor o cives!--lucan. the tulip,--so named, it is said, from a turkish word, signifying a turban,--was introduced into western europe about the middle of the sixteenth century. conrad gesner, who claims the merit of having brought it into repute,--little dreaming of the extraordinary commotion it was to make in the world,--says that he first saw it in the year , in a garden at augsburg, belonging to the learned counsellor herwart, a man very famous in his day for his collection of rare exotics. the bulbs were sent to this gentleman by a friend at constantinople, where the flower had long been a favourite. in the course of ten or eleven years after this period, tulips were much sought after by the wealthy, especially in holland and germany. rich people at amsterdam sent for the bulbs direct to constantinople, and paid the most extravagant prices for them. the first roots planted in england were brought from vienna in . until the year the tulip annually increased in reputation, until it was deemed a proof of bad taste in any man of fortune to be without a collection of them. many learned men, including pompeius de angelis and the celebrated lipsius of leyden, the author of the treatise "de constantia," were passionately fond of tulips. the rage for possessing them soon caught the middle classes of society, and merchants and shopkeepers, even of moderate means, began to vie with each other in the rarity of these flowers and the preposterous prices they paid for them. a trader at harlaem was known to pay one-half of his fortune for a single root--not with the design of selling it again at a profit, but to keep in his own conservatory for the admiration of his acquaintance. one would suppose that there must have been some great virtue in this flower to have made it so valuable in the eyes of so prudent a people as the dutch; but it has neither the beauty nor the perfume of the rose--hardly the beauty of the "sweet, sweet-pea;" neither is it as enduring as either. cowley, it is true, is loud in its praise. he says-- "the tulip next appeared, all over gay, but wanton, full of pride, and full of play; the world can't show a dye but here has place; nay, by new mixtures, she can change her face; purple and gold are both beneath her care-- the richest needlework she loves to wear; her only study is to please the eye, and to outshine the rest in finery." this, though not very poetical, is the description of a poet. beckmann, in his history of inventions, paints it with more fidelity, and in prose more pleasing than cowley's poetry. he says, "there are few plants which acquire, through accident, weakness, or disease, so many variegations as the tulip. when uncultivated, and in its natural state, it is almost of one colour, has large leaves, and an extraordinarily long stem. when it has been weakened by cultivation, it becomes more agreeable in the eyes of the florist. the petals are then paler, smaller, and more diversified in hue; and the leaves acquire a softer green colour. thus this masterpiece of culture, the more beautiful it turns, grows so much the weaker, so that, with the greatest skill and most careful attention, it can scarcely be transplanted, or even kept alive." many persons grow insensibly attached to that which gives them a great deal of trouble, as a mother often loves her sick and ever-ailing child better than her more healthy offspring. upon the same principle we must account for the unmerited encomia lavished upon these fragile blossoms. in , the rage among the dutch to possess them was so great that the ordinary industry of the country was neglected, and the population, even to its lowest dregs, embarked in the tulip trade. as the mania increased, prices augmented, until, in the year , many persons were known to invest a fortune of , florins in the purchase of forty roots. it then became necessary to sell them by their weight in perits, a small weight less than a grain. a tulip of the species called admiral liefken, weighing perits, was worth florins; an admiral von der eyk, weighing perits, was worth florins; a shilder of perits was worth florins; a viceroy of perits, florins, and, most precious of all, a semper augustus, weighing perits, was thought to be very cheap at florins. the latter was much sought after, and even an inferior bulb might command a price of florins. it is related that, at one time, early in , there were only two roots of this description to be had in all holland, and those not of the best. one was in the possession of a dealer in amsterdam, and the other in harlaem. so anxious were the speculators to obtain them that one person offered the fee-simple of twelve acres of building ground for the harlaem tulip. that of amsterdam was bought for florins, a new carriage, two grey horses, and a complete suit of harness. munting, an industrious author of that day, who wrote a folio volume of one thousand pages upon the tulipomania, has preserved the following list of the various articles, and their value, which were delivered for one single root of the rare species called the viceroy:-- florins. two lasts of wheat.............. four lasts of rye............... four fat oxen................... eight fat swine................. twelve fat sheep................ two hogsheads of wine........... four tuns of beer............... two tons of butter.............. one thousand lbs. of cheese..... a complete bed.................. a suit of clothes............... a silver drinking cup........... ----- ----- people who had been absent from holland, and whose chance it was to return when this folly was at its maximum, were sometimes led into awkward dilemmas by their ignorance. there is an amusing instance of the kind related in blainville's travels. a wealthy merchant, who prided himself not a little on his rare tulips, received upon one occasion a very valuable consignment of merchandise from the levant. intelligence of its arrival was brought him by a sailor, who presented himself for that purpose at the counting-house, among bales of goods of every description. the merchant, to reward him for his news, munificently made him a present of a fine red herring for his breakfast. the sailor had, it appears, a great partiality for onions, and seeing a bulb very like an onion lying upon the counter of this liberal trader, and thinking it, no doubt, very much out of its place among silks and velvets, he slily seized an opportunity and slipped it into his pocket, as a relish for his herring. he got clear off with his prize, and proceeded to the quay to eat his breakfast. hardly was his back turned when the merchant missed his valuable semper augustus, worth three thousand florins, or about pounds sterling. the whole establishment was instantly in an uproar; search was everywhere made for the precious root, but it was not to be found. great was the merchant's distress of mind. the search was renewed, but again without success. at last some one thought of the sailor. the unhappy merchant sprang into the street at the bare suggestion. his alarmed household followed him. the sailor, simple soul! had not thought of concealment. he was found quietly sitting on a coil of ropes, masticating the last morsel of his "onion." little did he dream that he had been eating a breakfast whose cost might have regaled a whole ship's crew for a twelvemonth; or, as the plundered merchant himself expressed it, "might have sumptuously feasted the prince of orange and the whole court of the stadtholder." anthony caused pearls to be dissolved in wine to drink the health of cleopatra; sir richard whittington was as foolishly magnificent in an entertainment to king henry v; and sir thomas gresham drank a diamond, dissolved in wine, to the health of queen elizabeth, when she opened the royal exchange: but the breakfast of this roguish dutchman was as splendid as either. he had an advantage, too, over his wasteful predecessors: their gems did not improve the taste or the wholesomeness of their wine, while his tulip was quite delicious with his red herring. the most unfortunate part of the business for him was, that he remained in prison for some months, on a charge of felony, preferred against him by the merchant. another story is told of an english traveller, which is scarcely less ludicrous. this gentleman, an amateur botanist, happened to see a tulip-root lying in the conservatory of a wealthy dutchman. being ignorant of its quality, he took out his penknife, and peeled off its coats, with the view of making experiments upon it. when it was by this means reduced to half its original size, he cut it into two equal sections, making all the time many learned remarks on the singular appearances of the unknown bulb. suddenly the owner pounced upon him, and, with fury in his eyes, asked him if he knew what he had been doing? "peeling a most extraordinary onion," replied the philosopher. "hundert tausend duyvel," said the dutchman; "it's an admiral van der e. yck." "thank you," replied the traveller, taking out his note-book to make a memorandum of the same; "are these admirals common in your country?" "death and the devil," said the dutchman, seizing the astonished man of science by the collar; "come before the syndic, and you shall see." in spite of his remonstrances, the traveller was led through the streets, followed by a mob of persons. when brought into the presence of the magistrate, he learned, to his consternation, that the root upon which he had been experimentalizing was worth four thousand florins; and, notwithstanding all he could urge in extenuation, he was lodged in prison until he found securities for the payment of this sum. the demand for tulips of a rare species increased so much in the year , that regular marts for their sale were established on the stock exchange of amsterdam, in rotterdam, harlaem, leyden, alkmar, hoorn, and other towns. symptoms of gambling now became, for the first time, apparent. the stockjobbers, ever on the alert for a new speculation, dealt largely in tulips, making use of all the means they so well knew how to employ, to cause fluctuations in prices. at first, as in all these gambling mania, confidence was at its height, and everybody gained. the tulip-jobbers speculated in the rise and fall of the tulip stocks, and made large profits by buying when prices fell, and selling out when they rose. many individuals grew suddenly rich. a golden bait hung temptingly out before the people, and, one after the other, they rushed to the tulip marts, like flies around a honeypot. every one imagined that the passion for tulips would last for ever, and that the wealthy from every part of the world would send to holland, and pay whatever prices were asked for them. the riches of europe would be concentrated on the shores of the zuyder zee, and poverty banished from the favoured clime of holland. nobles, citizens, farmers, mechanics, seamen, footmen, maidservants, even chimney-sweeps and old clotheswomen, dabbled in tulips. people of all grades converted their property into cash, and invested it in flowers. houses and lands were offered for sale at ruinously low prices, or assigned in payment of bargains made at the tulip-mart. foreigners became smitten with the same frenzy, and money poured into holland from all directions. the prices of the necessaries of life rose again by degrees; houses and lands, horses and carriages, and luxuries of every sort, rose in value with them, and for some months holland seemed the very antechamber of plutus. the operations of the trade became so extensive and so intricate, that it was found necessary to draw up a code of laws for the guidance of the dealers. notaries and clerks were also appointed, who devoted themselves exclusively to the interests of the trade. the designation of public notary was hardly known in some towns, that of tulip notary usurping its place. in the smaller towns, where there was no exchange, the principal tavern was usually selected as the "showplace," where high and low traded in tulips, and confirmed their bargains over sumptuous entertainments. these dinners were sometimes attended by two or three hundred persons, and large vases of tulips, in full bloom, were placed at regular intervals upon the tables and sideboards, for their gratification during the repast. at last, however, the more prudent began to see that this folly could not last for ever. rich people no longer bought the flowers to keep them in their gardens, but to sell them again at cent. per cent. profit. it was seen that somebody must lose fearfully in the end. as this conviction spread, prices fell, and never rose again. confidence was destroyed, and a universal panic seized upon the dealers. a had agreed to purchase ten sempers augustines from b, at four thousand florins each, at six weeks after the signing of the contract. b was ready with the flowers at the appointed time; but the price had fallen to three or four hundred florins, and a refused either to pay the difference or receive the tulips. defaulters were announced day after day in all the towns of holland. hundreds who, a few months previously, had begun to doubt that there was such a thing as poverty in the land, suddenly found themselves the possessors of a few bulbs, which nobody would buy, even though they offered them at one quarter of the sums they had paid for them. the cry of distress resounded everywhere, and each man accused his neighbour. the few who had contrived to enrich themselves hid their wealth from the knowledge of their fellow-citizens, and invested it in the english or other funds. many who, for a brief season, had emerged from the humbler walks of life, were cast back into their original obscurity. substantial merchants were reduced almost to beggary, and many a representative of a noble line saw the fortunes of his house ruined beyond redemption. when the first alarm subsided, the tulip-holders in the several towns held public meetings to devise what measures were best to be taken to restore public credit. it was generally agreed, that deputies should be sent from all parts to amsterdam, to consult with the government upon some remedy for the evil. the government at first refused to interfere, but advised the tulip-holders to agree to some plan among themselves. several meetings were held for this purpose; but no measure could be devised likely to give satisfaction to the deluded people, or repair even a slight portion of the mischief that had been done. the language of complaint and reproach was in everybody's mouth, and all the meetings were of the most stormy character. at last, however, after much bickering and ill-will, it was agreed, at amsterdam, by the assembled deputies, that all contracts made in the height of the mania, or prior to the month of november , should be declared null and void, and that, in those made after that date, purchasers should be freed from their engagements, on paying ten per cent. to the vendor. this decision gave no satisfaction. the vendors who had their tulips on hand were, of course, discontented, and those who had pledged themselves to purchase, thought themselves hardly treated. tulips which had, at one time, been worth six thousand florins, were now to be procured for five hundred; so that the composition of ten per cent. was one hundred florins more than the actual value. actions for breach of contract were threatened in all the courts of the country; but the latter refused to take cognizance of gambling transactions. the matter was finally referred to the provincial council at the hague, and it was confidently expected that the wisdom of this body would invent some measure by which credit should be restored. expectation was on the stretch for its decision, but it never came. the members continued to deliberate week after week, and at last, after thinking about it for three months, declared that they could offer no final decision until they had more information. they advised, however, that, in the mean time, every vendor should, in the presence of witnesses, offer the tulips in natura to the purchaser for the sums agreed upon. if the latter refused to take them, they might be put up for sale by public auction, and the original contractor held responsible for the difference between the actual and the stipulated price. this was exactly the plan recommended by the deputies, and which was already shown to be of no avail. there was no court in holland which would enforce payment. the question was raised in amsterdam, but the judges unanimously refused to interfere, on the ground that debts contracted in gambling were no debts in law. thus the matter rested. to find a remedy was beyond the power of the government. those who were unlucky enough to have had stores of tulips on hand at the time of the sudden reaction were left to bear their ruin as philosophically as they could; those who had made profits were allowed to keep them; but the commerce of the country suffered a severe shock, from which it was many years ere it recovered. the example of the dutch was imitated to some extent in england. in the year tulips were publicly sold in the exchange of london, and the jobbers exerted themselves to the utmost to raise them to the fictitious value they had acquired in amsterdam. in paris also the jobbers strove to create a tulipomania. in both cities they only partially succeeded. however, the force of example brought the flowers into great favour, and amongst a certain class of people tulips have ever since been prized more highly than any other flowers of the field. the dutch are still notorious for their partiality to them, and continue to pay higher prices for them than any other people. as the rich englishman boasts of his fine race-horses or his old pictures, so does the wealthy dutchman vaunt him of his tulips. in england, in our day, strange as it may appear, a tulip will produce more money than an oak. if one could be found, rara in tetris, and black as the black swan alluded to by juvenal, its price would equal that of a dozen acres of standing corn. in scotland, towards the close of the seventeenth century, the highest price for tulips, according to the authority of a writer in the supplement to the third edition of the "encyclopedia britannica," was ten guineas. their value appears to have diminished from that time till the year , when the two most valuable species in england were the don quevedo and the valentinier, the former of which was worth two guineas and the latter two guineas and a half. these prices appear to have been the minimum. in the year , a common price was fifteen guineas for a single bulb. in , so foolish were the fanciers, that a bulb of the species called the miss fanny kemble was sold by public auction in london for seventy-five pounds. still more astonishing was the price of a tulip in the possession of a gardener in the king's road, chelsea. in his catalogues, it was labelled at two hundred guineas! thus a flower, which for beauty and perfume was surpassed by the abundant roses of the garden,--a nosegay of which might be purchased for a penny,--was priced at a sum which would have provided an industrious labourer and his family with food, and clothes, and lodging for six years! should chickweed and groundsel ever come into fashion, the wealthy would, no doubt, vie with each other in adorning their gardens with them, and paying the most extravagant prices for them. in so doing, they would hardly be more foolish than the admirers of tulips. the common prices for these flowers at the present time vary from five to fifteen guineas, according to the rarity of the species. relics. a fouth o' auld knick-knackets, rusty airn caps and jinglin' jackets, wad haud the lothians three, in tackets, a towmond guid; an' parritch pats, and auld saut backets, afore the flood. burns. the love for relics is one which will never be eradicated as long as feeling and affection are denizens of the heart. it is a love which is most easily excited in the best and kindliest natures, and which few are callous enough to scoff at. who would not treasure the lock of hair that once adorned the brow of the faithful wife, now cold in death, or that hung down the neck of a beloved infant, now sleeping under the sward? not one. they are home-relics, whose sacred worth is intelligible to all; spoils rescued from the devouring grave, which, to the affectionate, are beyond all price. how dear to a forlorn survivor the book over whose pages he has pored with one departed! how much greater its value, if that hand, now cold, had written a thought, an opinion, or a name, upon the leaf! besides these sweet, domestic relics, there are others, which no one can condemn; relics sanctified by that admiration of greatness and goodness which is akin to love; such as the copy of montaigne's florio, with the name of shakspeare upon the leaf, written by the poet of all time himself; the chair preserved at antwerp, in which rubens sat when he painted the immortal "descent from the cross;" or the telescope, preserved in the museum of florence, which aided galileo in his sublime discoveries. who would not look with veneration upon the undoubted arrow of william tell--the swords of wallace or of hampden--or the bible whose leaves were turned by some stern old father of the faith? thus the principle of reliquism is hallowed and enshrined by love. but from this germ of purity how numerous the progeny of errors and superstitions! men, in their admiration of the great, and of all that appertained to them, have forgotten that goodness is a component part of true greatness, and have made fools of themselves for the jaw-bone of a saint, the toe-nail of an apostle, the handkerchief a king blew his nose in, or the rope that hanged a criminal. desiring to rescue some slight token from the graves of their predecessors, they have confounded the famous and the infamous, the renowned and the notorious. great saints, great sinners; great philosophers, great quacks; great conquerors, great murderers; great ministers, great thieves; each and all have had their admirers, ready to ransack earth, from the equator to either pole, to find a relic of them. the reliquism of modern times dates its origin from the centuries immediately preceding the crusades. the first pilgrims to the holy land brought back to europe thousands of apocryphal relics, in the purchase of which they had expended all their store. the greatest favourite was the wood of the true cross, which, like the oil of the widow, never diminished. it is generally asserted, in the traditions of the romish church, that the empress helen, the mother of constantine the great, first discovered the veritable "true cross" in her pilgrimage to jerusalem. the emperor theodosius made a present of the greater part of it to st. ambrose, bishop of milan, by whom it was studded with precious stones, and deposited in the principal church of that city. it was carried away by the huns, by whom it was burnt, after they had extracted the valuable jewels it contained. fragments, purporting to have been cut from it were, in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, to be found in almost every church in europe, and would, if collected together in one place, have been almost sufficient to have built a cathedral. happy was the sinner who could get a sight of one of them; happier he who possessed one! to obtain them the greatest dangers were cheerfully braved. they were thought to preserve from all evils, and to cure the most inveterate diseases. annual pilgrimages were made to the shrines that contained them, and considerable revenues collected from the devotees. next in renown were those precious relics, the tears of the saviour. by whom and in what manner they were preserved, the pilgrims did not often inquire. their genuineness was vouched by the christians of the holy land, and that was sufficient. tears of the virgin mary, and tears of st. peter, were also to be had, carefully enclosed in little caskets, which the pious might wear in their bosoms. after the tears the next most precious relics were drops of the blood of jesus and the martyrs. hair and toe-nails were also in great repute, and were sold at extravagant prices. thousands of pilgrims annually visited palestine in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, to purchase pretended relics for the home market. the majority of them had no other means of subsistence than the profits thus obtained. many a nail, cut from the filthy foot of some unscrupulous ecclesiastic, was sold at a diamond's price, within six months after its severance from its parent toe, upon the supposition that it had once belonged to a saint. peter's toes were uncommonly prolific, for there were nails enough in europe, at the time of the council of clermont, to have filled a sack, all of which were devoutly believed to have grown on the sacred feet of that great apostle. some of them are still shown in the cathedral of aix-la-chapelle. the pious come from a distance of a hundred german miles to feast their eyes upon them. at port royal, in paris, is kept with great care a thorn, which the priests of that seminary assert to be one of the identical thorns that bound the holy head of the son of god. how it came there, and by whom it was preserved, has never been explained. this is the famous thorn, celebrated in the long dissensions of the jansenists and the molenists, and which worked the miraculous cure upon mademoiselle perrier: by merely kissing it, she was cured of a disease of the eyes of long standing. [voltaire, siecle de louis xiv.] what traveller is unacquainted with the santa scala, or holy stairs, at rome? they were brought from jerusalem along with the true cross, by the empress helen, and were taken from the house which, according to popular tradition, was inhabited by pontius pilate. they are said to be the steps which jesus ascended and descended when brought into the presence of the roman governor. they are held in the greatest veneration at rome: it is sacrilegious to walk upon them. the knees of the faithful must alone touch them in ascending or descending, and that only after they have reverentially kissed them. europe still swarms with these religious relics. there is hardly a roman catholic church in spain, portugal, italy, france, or belgium, without one or more of them. even the poorly endowed churches of the villages boast the possession of miraculous thigh-bones of the innumerable saints of the romish calendar. aix-la-chapelle is proud of the veritable chasse, or thigh-bone of charlemagne, which cures lameness. halle has a thighbone of the virgin mary; spain has seven or eight, all said to be undoubted relics. brussels at one time preserved, and perhaps does now, the teeth of st. gudule. the faithful, who suffered from the tooth-ache, had only to pray, look at them, and be cured. some of these holy bones have been buried in different parts of the continent. after a certain lapse of time, water is said to ooze from them, which soon forms a spring, and cures all the diseases of the faithful. at a church in halle, there is a famous thigh-bone, which cures barrenness in women. of this bone, which is under the special superintendence of the virgin, a pleasant story is related by the incredulous. there resided at ghent a couple who were blessed with all the riches of this world, but whose happiness was sore troubled by the want of children. great was the grief of the lady, who was both beautiful and loving, and many her lamentations to her husband. the latter, annoyed by her unceasing sorrow, advised her to make a pilgrimage to the celebrated chasse of the virgin. she went, was absent a week, and returned with a face all radiant with joy and pleasure. her lamentations ceased, and, in nine months afterwards, she brought forth a son. but, oh! the instability of human joys! the babe, so long desired and so greatly beloved, survived but a few months. two years passed over the heads of the disconsolate couple, and no second child appeared to cheer their fire-side. a third year passed away with the same result, and the lady once more began to weep. "cheer up, my love," said her husband, "and go to the holy chasse, at halle; perhaps the virgin will again listen to your prayers." the lady took courage at the thought, wiped away her tears, and proceeded on the morrow towards halle. she was absent only three days, and returned home sad, weeping, and sorrow-stricken. "what is the matter?" said her husband; "is the virgin unwilling to listen to your prayers?" "the virgin is willing enough," said the disconsolate wife, "and will do what she can for me; but i shall never have any more children! the priest! the priest!--he is gone from halle, and nobody knows where to find him!" it is curious to remark the avidity manifested in all ages, and in all countries, to obtain possession of some relic of any persons who have been much spoken of, even for their crimes. when william longbeard, leader of the populace of london, in the reign of richard i, was hanged at smithfield, the utmost eagerness was shown to obtain a hair from his head, or a shred from his garments. women came from essex, kent, suffolk, sussex, and all the surrounding counties, to collect the mould at the foot of his gallows. a hair of his beard was believed to preserve from evil spirits, and a piece of his clothes from aches and pains. in more modern days, a similar avidity was shown to obtain a relic of the luckless masaniello, the fisherman of naples. after he had been raised by mob favour to a height of power more despotic than monarch ever wielded, he was shot by the same populace in the streets, as if he had been a mad dog. his headless trunk was dragged through the mire for several hours, and cast at night-fall into the city ditch. on the morrow the tide of popular feeling turned once more in his favour. his corpse was sought, arrayed in royal robes, and buried magnificently by torch-light in the cathedral, ten thousand armed men, and as many mourners, attending at the ceremony. the fisherman's dress which he had worn was rent into shreds by the crowd, to be preserved as relics; the door of his hut was pulled off its hinges by a mob of women, and eagerly cut up into small pieces, to be made into images, caskets, and other mementos. the scanty furniture of his poor abode became of more value than the adornments of a palace; the ground he had walked upon was considered sacred, and, being collected in small phials, was sold at its weight in gold, and worn in the bosom as an amulet. almost as extraordinary was the frenzy manifested by the populace of paris on the execution of the atrocious marchioness de brinvilliers. there were grounds for the popular wonder in the case of masaniello, who was unstained with personal crimes. but the career of madame de brinvilliers was of a nature to excite no other feelings than disgust and abhorrence. she was convicted of poisoning several persons, and sentenced to be burned in the place de greve, and to have her ashes scattered to the winds. on the day of her execution, the populace, struck by her gracefulness and beauty, inveighed against the severity of her sentence. their pity soon increased to admiration, and, ere evening, she was considered a saint. her ashes were industriously collected, even the charred wood, which had aided to consume her, was eagerly purchased by the populace. her ashes were thought to preserve from witchcraft. in england many persons have a singular love for the relics of thieves and murderers, or other great criminals. the ropes with which they have been hanged are very often bought by collectors at a guinea per foot. great sums were paid for the rope which hanged dr. dodd, and for those more recently which did justice upon mr. fauntleroy for forgery, and on thurtell for the murder of mr. weare. the murder of maria marten, by corder, in the year , excited the greatest interest all over the country. people came from wales and scotland, and even from ireland, to visit the barn where the body of the murdered woman was buried. every one of them was anxious to carry away some memorial of his visit. pieces of the barn-door, tiles from the roof, and, above all, the clothes of the poor victim, were eagerly sought after. a lock of her hair was sold for two guineas, and the purchaser thought himself fortunate in getting it so cheaply. so great was the concourse of people to visit the house in camberwell lane, where greenacre murdered hannah brown, in , that it was found necessary to station a strong detachment of police on the spot. the crowd was so eager to obtain a relic of the house of this atrocious criminal, that the police were obliged to employ force to prevent the tables and chairs, and even the doors, from being carried away. in earlier times, a singular superstition was attached to the hand of a criminal who had suffered execution. it was thought that by merely rubbing the dead hand on the body, the patient afflicted with the king's evil would be instantly cured. the executioner at newgate, sixty or seventy years ago, derived no inconsiderable revenue from this foolish practice. the possession of the hand was thought to be of still greater efficacy in the cure of diseases and the prevention of misfortunes. in the time of charles ii as much as ten guineas was thought a small price for one of these disgusting relics. when the maniac, thom, or courtenay, was shot, in the spring of , the relic-hunters were immediately in motion to obtain a memento of so extraordinary an individual. his long, black beard and hair, which were cut off by the surgeons, fell into the hands of his disciples, by whom they are treasured with the utmost reverence. a lock of his hair commands a great price, not only amongst his followers, but among the more wealthy inhabitants of canterbury and its neighbourhood. the tree against which he fell when he was shot, has already been stripped of all its bark by the curious, and bids fair to be entirely demolished within a twelvemonth. a letter, with his signature to it, is paid for in gold coins; and his favourite horse promises to become as celebrated as his master. parties of ladies and gentlemen have come to boughton from a distance of a hundred and fifty miles, to visit the scene of that fatal affray, and stroke on the back the horse of the "mad knight of malta." if a strict watch had not been kept over his grave for months, the body would have been disinterred, and the bones carried away as memorials. among the chinese no relics are more valued than the boots which have been worn by an upright magistrate. in davis's interesting description of the empire of china, we are informed, that whenever a judge of unusual integrity resigns his situation, the people all congregate to do him honour. if he leaves the city where he has presided, the crowd accompany him from his residence to the gates, where his boots are drawn off with great ceremony, to be preserved in the hall of justice. their place is immediately supplied by a new pair, which, in their turn, are drawn off to make room for others before he has worn them five minutes, it being considered sufficient to consecrate them that he should have merely drawn them on. among the most favourite relics of modern times, in europe, are shakspeare's mulberry-tree, napoleon's willow, and the table at waterloo, on which the emperor wrote his despatches. snuffboxes of shakspeare's mulberry-tree, are comparatively rare, though there are doubtless more of them in the market than were ever made of the wood planted by the great bard. many a piece of alien wood passes under this name. the same may be said of napoleon's table at waterloo. the original has long since been destroyed, and a round dozen of counterfeits along with it. many preserve the simple stick of wood; others have them cut into brooches and every variety of ornament; but by far the greater number prefer them as snuff-boxes. in france they are made into bonbonnieres, and are much esteemed by the many thousands whose cheeks still glow, and whose eyes still sparkle at the name of napoleon. bullets from the field of waterloo, and buttons from the coats of the soldiers who fell in the fight, are still favourite relics in europe. but the same ingenuity which found new tables after the old one was destroyed, has cast new bullets for the curious. many a one who thinks himself the possessor of a bullet which aided in giving peace to the world on that memorable day, is the owner of a dump, first extracted from the ore a dozen years afterwards. let all lovers of genuine relics look well to their money before they part with it to the ciceroni that swarm in the village of waterloo. few travellers stop at the lonely isle of st. helena, without cutting a twig from the willow that droops over the grave of napoleon. many of them have since been planted in different parts of europe, and have grown into trees as large as their parent. relic-hunters, who are unable to procure a twig of the original, are content with one from these. several of them are growing in the neighbourhood of london, more prized by their cultivators than any other tree in their gardens. but in relics, as in everything else, there is the use and the abuse. the undoubted relics of great men, or great events, will always possess attractions for the thinking and refined. there are few who would not join with cowley in the extravagant wish introduced in his lines "written while sitting in a chair made of the remains of the ship in which sir francis drake sailed round the world:"-- and i myself, who now love quiet too, almost as much as any chair can do, would yet a journey take an old wheel of that chariot to see, which phaeton so rashly brake. modern prophecies. as epidemic terror of the end of the world has several times spread over the nations. the most remarkable was that which seized christendom about the middle of the tenth century. numbers of fanatics appeared in france, germany, and italy at that time, preaching that the thousand years prophesied in the apocalypse as the term of the world's duration, were about to expire, and that the son of man would appear in the clouds to judge the godly and the ungodly. the delusion appears to have been discouraged by the church, but it nevertheless spread rapidly among the people. [see gibbon and voltaire for further notice of this subject.] the scene of the last judgment was expected to be at jerusalem. in the year , the number of pilgrims proceeding eastward, to await the coming of the lord in that city, was so great that they were compared to a desolating army. most of them sold their goods and possessions before they quitted europe, and lived upon the proceeds in the holy land. buildings of every sort were suffered to fall into ruins. it was thought useless to repair them, when the end of the world was so near. many noble edifices were deliberately pulled down. even churches, usually so well maintained, shared the general neglect. knights, citizens, and serfs, travelled eastwards in company, taking with them their wives and children, singing psalms as they went, and looking with fearful eyes upon the sky, which they expected each minute to open, to let the son of god descend in his glory. during the thousandth year the number of pilgrims increased. most of them were smitten with terror as with a plague. every phenomenon of nature filled them with alarm. a thunder-storm sent them all upon their knees in mid-march. it was the opinion that thunder was the voice of god, announcing the day of judgment. numbers expected the earth to open, and give up its dead at the sound. every meteor in the sky seen at jerusalem brought the whole christian population into the streets to weep and pray. the pilgrims on the road were in the same alarm:-- lorsque, pendant la nuit, un globe de lumiere s'echappa quelquefois de la voute des cieux, et traca dans sa chute un long sillon de feux, la troupe suspendit sa marche solitaire. [charlemagne. pomme epique, par lucien buonaparte.] fanatic preachers kept up the flame of terror. every shooting star furnished occasion for a sermon, in which the sublimity of the approaching judgment was the principal topic. the appearance of comets has been often thought to foretell the speedy dissolution of this world. part of this belief still exists; but the comet is no longer looked upon as the sign, but the agent of destruction. so lately as in the year the greatest alarm spread over the continent of europe, especially in germany, lest the comet, whose appearance was then foretold by astronomers, should destroy the earth. the danger of our globe was gravely discussed. many persons refrained from undertaking or concluding any business during that year, in consequence solely of their apprehension that this terrible comet would dash us and our world to atoms. during seasons of great pestilence men have often believed the prophecies of crazed fanatics, that the end of the world was come. credulity is always greatest in times of calamity. prophecies of all sorts are rife on such occasions, and are readily believed, whether for good or evil. during the great plague, which ravaged all europe, between the years and , it was generally considered that the end of the world was at hand. pretended prophets were to be found in all the principal cities of germany, france, and italy, predicting that within ten years the trump of the archangel would sound, and the saviour appear in the clouds to call the earth to judgment. no little consternation was created in london in by the prophecy of the famous whiston, that the world would be destroyed in that year, on the th of october. crowds of people went out on the appointed day to islington, hampstead, and the fields intervening, to see the destruction of london, which was to be the "beginning of the end." a satirical account of this folly is given in swift's miscellanies, vol. iii. entitled, "a true and faithful narrative of what passed in london on a rumour of the day of judgment." an authentic narrative of this delusion would be interesting; but this solemn witticism of pope and gay is not to be depended upon. in the year the citizens of london were again frightened out of their wits by two shocks of an earthquake, and the prophecy of a third, which was to destroy them altogether. the first shock was felt on the th of february, and threw down several chimneys in the neighbourhood of limehouse and poplar; the second happened on the th of march, and was chiefly felt in the north of london, and towards hampstead and highgate. it soon became the subject of general remark, that there was exactly an interval of a month between the shocks; and a crack-brained fellow, named bell, a soldier in the life guards, was so impressed with the idea that there would be a third in another month, that he lost his senses altogether, and ran about the streets predicting the destruction of london on the th of april. most people thought that the first would have been a more appropriate day; but there were not wanting thousands who confidently believed the prediction, and took measures to transport themselves and families from the scene of the impending calamity. as the awful day approached, the excitement became intense, and great numbers of credulous people resorted to all the villages within a circuit of twenty miles, awaiting the doom of london. islington, highgate, hampstead, harrow, and blackheath, were crowded with panic-stricken fugitives, who paid exorbitant prices for accommodation to the housekeepers of these secure retreats. such as could not afford to pay for lodgings at any of those places, remained in london until two or three days before the time, and then encamped in the surrounding fields, awaiting the tremendous shock which was to lay their high city all level with the dust. as happened during a similar panic in the time of henry viii, the fear became contagious, and hundreds who had laughed at the prediction a week before, packed up their goods, when they saw others doing so, and hastened away. the river was thought to be a place of great security, and all the merchant vessels in the port were filled with people, who passed the night between the th and th on board, expecting every instant to see st. paul's totter, and the towers of westminster abbey rock in the wind and fall amid a cloud of dust. the greater part of the fugitives returned on the following day, convinced that the prophet was a false one; but many judged it more prudent to allow a week to elapse before they trusted their dear limbs in london. bell lost all credit in a short time, and was looked upon even by the most credulous as a mere madman. he tried some other prophecies, but nobody was deceived by them; and, in a few months afterwards, he was confined in a lunatic asylum. a panic terror of the end of the world seized the good people of leeds and its neighbourhood in the year . it arose from the following circumstances. a hen, in a village close by, laid eggs, on which were inscribed, in legible characters, the words "christ is coming." great numbers visited the spot, and examined these wondrous eggs, convinced that the day of judgment was near at hand. like sailors in a storm, expecting every instant to go to the bottom, the believers suddenly became religious, prayed violently, and flattered themselves that they repented them of their evil courses. but a plain tale soon put them down, and quenched their religion entirely. some gentlemen, hearing of the matter, went one fine morning, and caught the poor hen in the act of laying one of her miraculous eggs. they soon ascertained beyond doubt that the egg had been inscribed with some corrosive ink, and cruelly forced up again into the bird's body. at this explanation, those who had prayed, now laughed, and the world wagged as merrily as of yore. at the time of the plague in milan, in , of which so affecting a description has been left us by ripamonte, in his interesting work "de peste mediolani", the people, in their distress, listened with avidity to the predictions of astrologers and other impostors. it is singular enough that the plague was foretold a year before it broke out. a large comet appearing in , the opinions of astrologers were divided with regard to it. some insisted that it was a forerunner of a bloody war; others maintained that it predicted a great famine; but the greater number, founding their judgment upon its pale colour, thought it portended a pestilence. the fulfilment of their prediction brought them into great repute while the plague was raging. other prophecies were current, which were asserted to have been delivered hundreds of years previously. they had a most pernicious effect upon the mind of the vulgar, as they induced a belief in fatalism. by taking away the hope of recovery--that greatest balm in every malady--they increased threefold the ravages of the disease. one singular prediction almost drove the unhappy people mad. an ancient couplet, preserved for ages by tradition, foretold, that in the year the devil would poison all milan. early one morning in april, and before the pestilence had reached its height, the passengers were surprised to see that all the doors in the principal streets of the city were marked with a curious daub, or spot, as if a sponge, filled with the purulent matter of the plague-sores, had been pressed against them. the whole population were speedily in movement to remark the strange appearance, and the greatest alarm spread rapidly. every means was taken to discover the perpetrators, but in vain. at last the ancient prophecy was remembered, and prayers were offered up in all the churches that the machinations of the evil one might be defeated. many persons were of opinion that the emissaries of foreign powers were employed to spread infectious poison over the city; but by far the greater number were convinced that the powers of hell had conspired against them, and that the infection was spread by supernatural agencies. in the mean time the plague increased fearfully. distrust and alarm took possession of every mind. everything was believed to have been poisoned by the devil; the waters of the wells, the standing corn in the fields, and the fruit upon the trees. it was believed that all objects of touch were poisoned; the walls of the houses, the pavement of the streets, and the very handles of the doors. the populace were raised to a pitch of ungovernable fury. a strict watch was kept for the devil's emissaries, and any man who wanted to be rid of an enemy, had only to say that he had seen him besmearing a door with ointment; his fate was certain death at the hands of the mob. an old man, upwards of eighty years of age, a daily frequenter of the church of st. antonio, was seen, on rising from his knees, to wipe with the skirt of his cloak the stool on which he was about to sit down. a cry was raised immediately that he was besmearing the seat with poison. a mob of women, by whom the church was crowded, seized hold of the feeble old man, and dragged him out by the hair of his head, with horrid oaths and imprecations. he was trailed in this manner through the mire to the house of the municipal judge, that he might be put to the rack, and forced to discover his accomplices; but he expired on the way. many other victims were sacrificed to the popular fury. one mora, who appears to have been half a chemist and half a barber, was accused of being in league with the devil to poison milan. his house was surrounded, and a number of chemical preparations were found. the poor man asserted, that they were intended as preservatives against infection; but some physicians, to whom they were submitted, declared they were poison. mora was put to the rack, where he for a long time asserted his innocence. he confessed at last, when his courage was worn down by torture, that he was in league with the devil and foreign powers to poison the whole city; that he had anointed the doors, and infected the fountains of water. he named several persons as his accomplices, who were apprehended and put to a similar torture. they were all found guilty, and executed. mora's house was rased to the ground, and a column erected on the spot, with an inscription to commemorate his guilt. while the public mind was filled with these marvellous occurrences, the plague continued to increase. the crowds that were brought together to witness the executions, spread the infection among one another. but the fury of their passions, and the extent of their credulity, kept pace with the violence of the plague; every wonderful and preposterous story was believed. one, in particular, occupied them to the exclusion, for a long time, of every other. the devil himself had been seen. he had taken a house in milan, in which he prepared his poisonous unguents, and furnished them to his emissaries for distribution. one man had brooded over such tales till he became firmly convinced that the wild flights of his own fancy were realities. he stationed himself in the market-place of milan, and related the following story to the crowds that gathered round him. he was standing, he said, at the door of the cathedral, late in the evening, and when there was nobody nigh, he saw a dark-coloured chariot, drawn by six milk-white horses, stop close beside him. the chariot was followed by a numerous train of domestics in dark liveries, mounted on dark-coloured steeds. in the chariot there sat a tall stranger of a majestic aspect; his long black hair floated in the wind--fire flashed from his large black eyes, and a curl of ineffable scorn dwelt upon his lips. the look of the stranger was so sublime that he was awed, and trembled with fear when he gazed upon him. his complexion was much darker than that of any man he had ever seen, and the atmosphere around him was hot and suffocating. he perceived immediately that he was a being of another world. the stranger, seeing his trepidation, asked him blandly, yet majestically, to mount beside him. he had no power to refuse, and before he was well aware that he had moved, he found himself in the chariot. onwards they went, with the rapidity of the wind, the stranger speaking no word, until they stopped before a door in the high-street of milan. there was a crowd of people in the street, but, to his great surprise, no one seemed to notice the extraordinary equipage and its numerous train. from this he concluded that they were invisible. the house at which they stopped appeared to be a shop, but the interior was like a vast half-ruined palace. he went with his mysterious guide through several large and dimly-lighted rooms. in one of them, surrounded by huge pillars of marble, a senate of ghosts was assembled, debating on the progress of the plague. other parts of the building were enveloped in the thickest darkness, illumined at intervals by flashes of lightning, which allowed him to distinguish a number of gibing and chattering skeletons, running about and pursuing each other, or playing at leap-frog over one another's backs. at the rear of the mansion was a wild, uncultivated plot of ground, in the midst of which arose a black rock. down its sides rushed with fearful noise a torrent of poisonous water, which, insinuating itself through the soil, penetrated to all the springs of the city, and rendered them unfit for use. after he had been shown all this, the stranger led him into another large chamber, filled with gold and precious stones, all of which he offered him if he would kneel down and worship him, and consent to smear the doors and houses of milan with a pestiferous salve which he held out to him. he now knew him to be the devil, and in that moment of temptation, prayed to god to give him strength to resist. his prayer was heard--he refused the bribe. the stranger scowled horribly upon him--a loud clap of thunder burst over his head--the vivid lightning flashed in his eyes, and the next moment he found himself standing alone at the porch of the cathedral. he repeated this strange tale day after day, without any variation, and all the populace were firm believers in its truth. repeated search was made to discover the mysterious house, but all in vain. the man pointed out several as resembling it, which were searched by the police; but the demon of the pestilence was not to be found, nor the hall of ghosts, nor the poisonous fountain. but the minds of the people were so impressed with the idea that scores of witnesses, half crazed by disease, came forward to swear that they also had seen the diabolical stranger, and had heard his chariot, drawn by the milk-white steeds, rumbling over the streets at midnight with a sound louder than thunder. the number of persons who confessed that they were employed by the devil to distribute poison is almost incredible. an epidemic frenzy was abroad, which seemed to be as contagious as the plague. imagination was as disordered as the body, and day after day persons came voluntarily forward to accuse themselves. they generally had the marks of disease upon them, and some died in the act of confession. during the great plague of london, in , the people listened with similar avidity to the predictions of quacks and fanatics. defoe says, that at that time the people were more addicted to prophecies and astronomical conjurations, dreams, and old wives' tales than ever they were before or since. almanacs, and their predictions, frightened them terribly. even the year before the plague broke out, they were greatly alarmed by the comet which then appeared, and anticipated that famine, pestilence, or fire would follow. enthusiasts, while yet the disease had made but little progress, ran about the streets, predicting that in a few days london would be destroyed. a still more singular instance of the faith in predictions occurred in london in the year . the city swarmed at that time with fortune-tellers and astrologers, who were consulted daily by people of every class in society on the secrets of futurity. as early as the month of june , several of them concurred in predicting that, on the st day of february, , the waters of the thames would swell to such a height as to overflow the whole city of london, and wash away ten thousand houses. the prophecy met implicit belief. it was reiterated with the utmost confidence month after month, until so much alarm was excited that many families packed up their goods, and removed into kent and essex. as the time drew nigh, the number of these emigrants increased. in january, droves of workmen might be seen, followed by their wives and children, trudging on foot to the villages within fifteen or twenty miles, to await the catastrophe. people of a higher class were also to be seen, in waggons and other vehicles, bound on a similar errand. by the middle of january, at least twenty thousand persons had quitted the doomed city, leaving nothing but the bare walls of their homes to be swept away by the impending floods. many of the richer sort took up their abode on the heights of highgate, hampstead, and blackheath; and some erected tents as far away as waltham abbey, on the north, and croydon, on the south of the thames. bolton, the prior of st. bartholomew's, was so alarmed that he erected, at very great expense, a sort of fortress at harrow-on-the-hill, which he stocked with provisions for two months. on the th of january, a week before the awful day which was to see the destruction of london, he removed thither, with the brethren and officers of the priory and all his household. a number of boats were conveyed in waggons to his fortress, furnished abundantly with expert rowers, in case the flood, reaching so high as harrow, should force them to go further for a resting-place. many wealthy citizens prayed to share his retreat, but the prior, with a prudent forethought, admitted only his personal friends, and those who brought stores of eatables for the blockade. at last the morn, big with the fate of london, appeared in the east. the wondering crowds were astir at an early hour to watch the rising of the waters. the inundation, it was predicted, would be gradual, not sudden; so that they expected to have plenty of time to escape, as soon as they saw the bosom of old thames heave beyond the usual mark. but the majority were too much alarmed to trust to this, and thought themselves safer ten or twenty miles off. the thames, unmindful of the foolish crowds upon its banks, flowed on quietly as of yore. the tide ebbed at its usual hour, flowed to its usual height, and then ebbed again, just as if twenty astrologers had not pledged their words to the contrary. blank were their faces as evening approached, and as blank grew the faces of the citizens to think that they had made such fools of themselves. at last night set in, and the obstinate river would not lift its waters to sweep away even one house out of the ten thousand. still, however, the people were afraid to go to sleep. many hundreds remained up till dawn of the next day, lest the deluge should come upon them like a thief in the night. on the morrow, it was seriously discussed whether it would not be advisable to duck the false prophets in the river. luckily for them, they thought of an expedient which allayed the popular fury. they asserted that, by an error (a very slight one) of a little figure, they had fixed the date of this awful inundation a whole century too early. the stars were right after all, and they, erring mortals, were wrong. the present generation of cockneys was safe, and london 'would be washed away, not in , but in . at this announcement, bolton, the prior, dismantled his fortress, and the weary emigrants came back. an eye-witness of the great fire of london, in an account preserved among the harleian mss. in the british museum, and recently published in the transactions of the royal society of antiquaries, relates another instance of the credulity of the londoners. the writer, who accompanied the duke of york day by day through the district included between the fleet-bridge and the thames, states that, in their efforts to check the progress of the flames, they were much impeded by the superstition of the people. mother shipton, in one of her prophecies, had said that london would be reduced to ashes, and they refused to make any efforts to prevent it. [this prophecy seems to have been that set forth at length in the popular life of mother shipton:-- "when fate to england shall restore a king to reign as heretofore, great death in london shall be though, and many houses be laid low."] a son of the noted sir kenelm digby, who was also a pretender to the gifts of prophecy, persuaded them that no power on earth could prevent the fulfilment of the prediction; for it was written in the great book of fate that london was to be destroyed. hundreds of persons, who might have rendered valuable assistance, and saved whole parishes from devastation, folded their arms and looked on. as many more gave themselves up, with the less compunction, to plunder a city which they could not save. the prophecies of mother shipton are still believed in many of the rural districts of england. in cottages and servants' halls her reputation is great; and she rules, the most popular of british prophets, among all the uneducated, or half-educated, portions of the community. she is generally supposed to have been born at knaresborough, in the reign of henry vii, and to have sold her soul to the devil for the power of foretelling future events. though during her lifetime she was looked upon as a witch, she yet escaped the witch's fate, and died peaceably in her bed at an extreme old age, near clifton in yorkshire. a stone is said to have been erected to her memory in the church-yard of that place, with the following epitaph:-- "here lies she who never lied; whose skill often has been tried: her prophecies shall still survive, and ever keep her name alive." "never a day passed," says her traditionary biography, "wherein she did not relate something remarkable, and that required the most serious consideration. people flocked to her from far and near, her fame was so great. they went to her of all sorts, both old and young, rich and poor, especially young maidens, to be resolved of their doubts relating to things to come; and all returned wonderfully satisfied in the explanations she gave to their questions." among the rest, went the abbot of beverley, to whom she foretold the suppression of the monasteries by henry viii; his marriage with anne boleyn; the fires for heretics in smithfield, and the execution of mary queen of scots. she also foretold the accession of james i, adding that, with him, "from the cold north, every evil should come forth." on a subsequent visit she uttered another prophecy, which, in the opinion of her believers, still remains unfulfilled, but may be expected to be realised during the present century:-- "the time shall come when seas of blood shall mingle with a greater flood. great noise there shall be heard--great shouts and cries, and seas shall thunder louder than the skies; then shall three lions fight with three, and bring joy to a people, honour to a king. that fiery year as soon as o'er, peace shall then be as before; plenty shall everywhere be found, and men with swords shall plough the ground." but the most famous of all her prophecies is one relating to london. thousands of persons still shudder to think of the woes that are to burst over this unhappy realm, when london and highgate are joined by one continuous line of houses. this junction, which, if the rage for building lasts much longer, in the same proportion as heretofore, bids fair to be soon accomplished, was predicted by her shortly before her death. revolutions--the fall of mighty monarchs, and the shedding of much blood are to signalise that event. the very angels, afflicted by our woes, are to turn aside their heads, and weep for hapless britain. but great as is the fame of mother shipton, she ranks but second in the list of british prophets. merlin, the mighty merlin, stands alone in his high pre-eminence--the first and greatest. as old drayton sings, in his poly-olbion:-- "of merlin and his skill what region doth not hear? the world shall still be full of merlin every year. a thousand lingering years his prophecies have run, and scarcely shall have end till time itself be done." spenser, in his divine poem, has given us a powerful description of this renowned seer-- ".......who had in magic more insight than ever him before, or after, living wight. "for he by words could call out of the sky both sun and moon, and make them him obey; the land to sea, and sea to mainland dry, and darksome night he eke could turn to day-- huge hosts of men he could, alone, dismay. and hosts of men and meanest things could frame, whenso him list his enemies to fray, that to this day, for terror of his name, the fiends do quake, when any him to them does name. "and soothe men say that he was not the sonne, of mortal sire or other living wighte, but wondrously begotten and begoune by false illusion of a guileful sprite, on a faire ladye nun." in these verses the poet has preserved the popular belief with regard to merlin, who is generally supposed to have been a contemporary of vortigern. opinion is divided as to whether he were a real personage, or a mere impersonation, formed by the poetic fancy of a credulous people. it seems most probable that such a man did exist, and that, possessing knowledge as much above the comprehension of his age, as that possessed by friar bacon was beyond the reach of his, he was endowed by the wondering crowd with the supernatural attributes that spenser has enumerated. geoffrey of monmouth translated merlin's poetical odes, or prophecies, into latin prose, and he was much reverenced, not only by geoffrey, but by most of the old annalists. in a "life of merlin, with his prophecies and predictions, interpreted and made good by our english annals," by thomas heywood, published in the reign of charles i, we find several of these pretended prophecies. they seem, however, to have been all written by heywood himself. they are in terms too plain and positive to allow any one to doubt for a moment of their having been composed ex post facto. speaking of richard i, he says:-- "the lion's heart will 'gainst the saracen rise, and purchase from him many a glorious prize; the rose and lily shall at first unite, but, parting of the prey prove opposite. * * * * but while abroad these great acts shall be done; all things at home shall to disorder run. cooped up and caged then shall the lion be, but, after sufferance, ransomed and set free." the sapient thomas heywood gravely goes on to inform us, that all these things actually came to pass. upon richard iii he is equally luminous. he says:-- "a hunch-backed monster, who with teeth is born, the mockery of art and nature's scorn; who from the womb preposterously is hurled, and, with feet forward, thrust into the world, shall, from the lower earth on which he stood, wade, every step he mounts, knee-deep in blood. he shall to th' height of all his hopes aspire, and, clothed in state, his ugly shape admire; but, when he thinks himself most safe to stand, from foreign parts a native whelp shall land." another of these prophecies after the event tells us that henry viii should take the power from rome, "and bring it home unto his british bower;" that he should "root out from the land all the razored skulls;" and that he should neither spare "man in his rage nor woman in his lust;" and that, in the time of his next successor but one, "there should come in the fagot and the stake." master heywood closes merlin's prophecies at his own day, and does not give even a glimpse of what was to befall england after his decease. many other prophecies, besides those quoted by him, were, he says, dispersed abroad, in his day, under the name of merlin; but he gives his readers a taste of one only, and that is the following:-- "when hempe is ripe and ready to pull, then englishman beware thy skull." this prophecy, which, one would think, ought to have put him in mind of the gallows, the not unusual fate of false prophets, and perchance his own, he explains thus:--"in this word hempe be five letters. now, by reckoning the five successive princes from henry viii, this prophecy is easily explained: h signifieth king henry before named; e, edward, his son, the sixth of that name; m, mary, who succeeded him; p, philip of spain, who, by marrying queen mary, participated with her in the english diadem; and, lastly, e signifieth queen elizabeth, after whose death there was a great feare that some troubles might have arisen about the crown." as this did not happen, heywood, who was a sly rogue in a small way, gets out of the scrape by saying, "yet proved this augury true, though not according to the former expectation; for, after the peaceful inauguration of king james, there was great mortality, not in london only, but through the whole kingdom, and from which the nation was not quite clean in seven years after." this is not unlike the subterfuge of peter of pontefract, who had prophesied the death and deposition of king john, and who was hanged by that monarch for his pains. a very graphic and amusing account of this pretended prophet is given by grafton, in his chronicles of england. there is so much homely vigour about the style of the old annalist, that it would be a pity to give the story in other words than his own. [chronicles of england, by richard grafton; london, , p. .] "in the meanwhile," says he, "the priestes within england had provided them a false and counterfeated prophet, called peter wakefielde, a yorkshire man, who was an hermite, an idle gadder about, and a pratlyng marchant. now to bring this peter in credite, and the kyng out of all credite with his people, diverse vaine persons bruted dayly among the commons of the realme, that christe had twice appered unto him in the shape of a childe, betwene the prieste's handes, once at yorke, another tyme at pomfret; and that he had breathed upon him thrice, saying, 'peace, peace, peace,' and teachyng many things, which he anon declared to the bishops, and bid the people amend their naughtie living. being rapt also in spirite, they sayde he behelde the joyes of heaven and sorowes of hell, for scant were there three in the realme, sayde he, that lived christainly. "this counterfeated soothsayer prophecied of king john, that he should reigne no longer than the ascension-day next followyng, which was in the yere of our lord , and was the thirteenth yere from his coronation; and this, he said, he had by revelation. then it was of him demanded, whether he should be slaine or be deposed, or should voluntarily give over the crowne? he aunswered, that he could not tell; but of this he was sure (he sayd), that neither he nor any of his stock or lineage should reigne after that day. "the king hering of this, laughed much at it, and made but a scoff thereat. 'tush!' saith he, 'it is but an ideot knave, and such an one as lacketh his right wittes.' but when this foolish prophet had so escaped the daunger of the kinge's displeasure, and that he made no more of it, he gate him abroad, and prated thereof at large, as he was a very idle vagabond, and used to trattle and talke more than ynough, so that they which loved the king caused him anon after to be apprehended as a malefactor, and to be throwen in prison, the king not yet knowing thereof. "anone after the fame of this phantasticall prophet went all the realme over, and his name was knowen everywhere, as foolishnesse is much regarded of the people, where wisdome is not in place; specially because he was then imprisoned for the matter, the rumour was the larger, their wonderynges were the wantoner, their practises the foolisher, their busye talkes and other idle doinges the greater. continually from thence, as the rude manner of people is, olde gossyps tales went abroade, new tales were invented, fables were added to fables, and lyes grew upon lyes. so that every daye newe slanders were laide upon the king, and not one of them true. rumors arose, blasphemyes were sprede, the enemyes rejoyced, and treasons by the priestes were mainteyned; and what lykewise was surmised, or other subtiltye practised, all was then lathered upon this foolish prophet, as 'thus saith peter wakefield;' 'thus hath he prophecied;' 'and thus it shall come to pass;' yea, many times, when he thought nothing lesse. and when the ascension-day was come, which was prophecyed of before, king john commanded his royal tent to be spread in the open fielde, passing that day with his noble counseyle and men of honour, in the greatest solemnitie that ever he did before; solacing himself with musickale instrumentes and songs, most in sight among his trustie friendes. when that day was paste in all prosperitie and myrth, his enemyes being confused, turned all into an allegorical understanding to make the prophecie good, and sayde, 'he is no longer king, for the pope reigneth, and not he.'" [king john was labouring under a sentence of excommunication at the time.] "then was the king by his council perswaded that this false prophet had troubled the realme, perverted the heartes of the people, and raysed the commons against him; for his wordes went over the sea, by the help of his prelates, and came to the french king's care, and gave to him a great encouragement to invade the lande. he had not else done it so sodeinely. but he was most lowly deceived, as all they are and shall be that put their trust in such dark drowsye dreames of hipocrites. the king therefore commanded that he should be hanged up, and his sonne also with him, lest any more false prophets should arise of that race." heywood, who was a great stickler for the truth of all sorts of prophecies, gives a much more favourable account of this peter of pomfret, or pontefract, whose fate he would, in all probability, have shared, if he had had the misfortune to have flourished in the same age. he says, that peter, who was not only a prophet, but a bard, predicted divers of king john's disasters, which fell out accordingly. on being taxed for a lying prophet in having predicted that the king would be deposed before he entered into the fifteenth year of his reign, he answered him boldly, that all he had said was justifiable and true; for that, having given up his crown to the pope, and paying him an annual tribute, the pope reigned, and not he. heywood thought this explanation to be perfectly satisfactory, and the prophet's faith for ever established. but to return to merlin. of him even to this day it may be said, in the words which burns has applied to another notorious personage, "great was his power and great his fame; far kenned and noted is his name? his reputation is by no means confined to the land of his birth, but extends through most of the nations of europe. a very curious volume of his life, prophecies, and miracles, written, it is supposed, by robert de bosron, was printed at paris in , which states, that the devil himself was his father, and that he spoke the instant he was born, and assured his mother, a very virtuous young woman, that she should not die in child-bed with him, as her ill-natured neighbours had predicted. the judge of the district, hearing of so marvellous an occurrence, summoned both mother and child to appear before him; and they went accordingly the same day. to put the wisdom of the young prophet most effectually to the test, the judge asked him if he knew his own father? to which the infant merlin replied, in a clear, sonorous voice, "yes, my father is the devil; and i have his power, and know all things, past, present, and to come." his worship clapped his hands in astonishment, and took the prudent resolution of not molesting so awful a child, or its mother either. early tradition attributes the building of stonehenge to the power of merlin. it was believed that those mighty stones were whirled through the air, at his command, from ireland to salisbury plain, and that he arranged them in the form in which they now stand, to commemorate for ever the unhappy fate of three hundred british chiefs, who were massacred on that spot by the saxons. at abergwylly, near caermarthen, is still shown the cave of the prophet and the scene of his incantations. how beautiful is the description of it given by spenser in his "faerie queene." the lines need no apology for their repetition here, and any sketch of the great prophet of britain would be incomplete without them:-- "there the wise merlin, whilom wont (they say), to make his wonne low underneath the ground, in a deep delve far from the view of day, that of no living wight he mote be found, whenso he counselled with his sprites encompassed round. "and if thou ever happen that same way to travel, go to see that dreadful place; it is a hideous, hollow cave, they say, under a rock that lies a little space from the swift barry, tumbling down apace amongst the woody hills of dynevoure; but dare thou not, i charge, in any case, to enter into that same baleful bower, for fear the cruel fiendes should thee unwares devour! "but, standing high aloft, low lay thine care, and there such ghastly noise of iron chaines, and brazen caudrons thou shalt rombling heare, which thousand sprites, with long-enduring paines, doe tosse, that it will stun thy feeble braines; and often times great groans and grievous stownds, when too huge toile and labour them constraines; and often times loud strokes and ringing sounds from under that deep rock most horribly rebounds. "the cause, they say, is this. a little while before that merlin died, he did intend a brazen wall in compass, to compile about cayr merdin, and did it commend unto these sprites to bring to perfect end; during which work the lady of the lake, whom long he loved, for him in haste did send, who thereby forced his workmen to forsake, them bound till his return their labour not to slake. "in the mean time, through that false ladie's traine, he was surprised, and buried under biere, ne ever to his work returned again; natheless these fiendes may not their work forbeare, so greatly his commandement they fear, but there doe toile and travaile day and night, until that brazen wall they up doe reare." [faerie queene, b. . c. . s. -- .] amongst other english prophets, a belief in whose power has not been entirely effaced by the light of advancing knowledge, is robert nixon, the cheshire idiot, a contemporary of mother shipton. the popular accounts of this man say, that he was born of poor parents, not far from vale royal, on the edge of the forest of delamere. he was brought up to the plough, but was so ignorant and stupid, that nothing could be made of him. everybody thought him irretrievably insane, and paid no attention to the strange, unconnected discourses which he held. many of his prophecies are believed to have been lost in this manner. but they were not always destined to be wasted upon dull and inattentive ears. an incident occurred which brought him into notice, and established his fame as a prophet of the first calibre. he was ploughing in a field when he suddenly stopped from his labour, and, with a wild look and strange gestures, exclaimed, "now, dick! now, harry! o, ill done, dick! o, well done, harry! harry has gained the day!" his fellow labourers in the field did not know what to make of this rhapsody; but the next day cleared up the mystery. news was brought by a messenger, in hot haste, that at the very instant when nixon had thus ejaculated, richard iii had been slain at the battle of bosworth, and henry vii proclaimed king of england. it was not long before the fame of the new prophet reached the ears of the king, who expressed a wish to see and converse with him. a messenger was accordingly despatched to bring him to court; but long before he reached cheshire, nixon knew and dreaded the honours that awaited him. indeed it was said, that at the very instant the king expressed the wish, nixon was, by supernatural means, made acquainted with it, and that he ran about the town of over in great distress of mind, calling out, like a madman, that henry had sent for him, and that he must go to court, and be clammed; that is, starved to death. these expressions excited no little wonder; but, on the third day, the messenger arrived, and carried him to court, leaving on the minds of the good people of cheshire an impression that their prophet was one of the greatest ever born. on his arrival king henry appeared to be troubled exceedingly at the loss of a valuable diamond, and asked nixon if he could inform him where it was to be found. henry had hidden the diamond himself, with a view to test the prophet's skill. great, therefore, was his surprise when nixon answered him in the words of the old proverb, "those who hide can find." from that time forth the king implicitly believed that he had the gift of prophecy, and ordered all his words to be taken down. during all the time of his residence at court he was in constant fear of being starved to death, and repeatedly told the king that such would be his fate, if he were not allowed to depart, and return into his own country. henry would not suffer it, but gave strict orders to all his officers and cooks to give him as much to eat as he wanted. he lived so well, that for some time he seemed to be thriving like a nobleman's steward, and growing as fat as an alderman. one day the king went out hunting, when nixon ran to the palace gate, and entreated on his knees that he might not be left behind to be starved. the king laughed, and, calling an officer, told him to take especial care of the prophet during his absence, and rode away to the forest. after his departure, the servants of the palace began to jeer at and insult nixon, whom they imagined to be much better treated than he deserved. nixon complained to the officer, who, to prevent him from being further molested, locked him up in the king's own closet, and brought him regularly his four meals a day. but it so happened that a messenger arrived from the king to this officer, requiring his immediate presence at winchester, on a matter of life and death. so great was his haste to obey the king's command, that he mounted on the horse behind the messenger, and rode off, without bestowing a thought upon poor nixon. he did not return till three days afterwards, when, remembering the prophet for the first time, he went to the king's closet, and found him lying upon the floor, starved to death, as he had predicted. among the prophecies of his which are believed to have been fulfilled, are the following, which relate to the times of the pretender:-- "a great man shall come into england, but the son of a king shall take from him the victory." "crows shall drink the blood of many nobles, and the north shall rise against the south." "the cock of the north shall be made to flee, and his feather be plucked for his pride, that he shall almost curse the day that he was born," all these, say his admirers, are as clear as the sun at noon-day. the first denotes the defeat of prince charles edward, at the battle of culloden, by the duke of cumberland; the second, the execution of lords derwentwater, balmerino, and lovat; and the third, the retreat of the pretender from the shores of britain. among the prophecies that still remain to be accomplished, are the following:-- "between seven, eight, and nine, in england wonders shall be seen; between nine and thirteen all sorrow shall be done!" "through our own money and our men shall a dreadful war begin. between the sickle and the suck all england shall have a pluck," "foreign nations shall invade england with snow on their helmets, and shall bring plague, famine, and murder in the skirts of their garments." "the town of nantwich shall be swept away by a flood" of the two first of these no explanation has yet been attempted; but some event or other will doubtless be twisted into such a shape as will fit them. the third, relative to the invasion of england by a nation with snow on their helmets, is supposed by the old women to foretell most clearly the coming war with russia. as to the last, there are not a few in the town mentioned who devoutly believe that such will be its fate. happily for their peace of mind, the prophet said nothing of the year that was to witness the awful calamity; so that they think it as likely to be two centuries hence as now. the popular biographers of nixon conclude their account of him by saying, that "his prophecies are by some persons thought fables; yet by what has come to pass, it is now thought, and very plainly appears, that most of them have proved, or will prove, true; for which we, on all occasions, ought not only to exert our utmost might to repel by force our enemies, but to refrain from our abandoned and wicked course of life, and to make our continual prayer to god for protection and safety." to this, though a non sequitur, every one will cry amen! besides the prophets, there have been the almanack makers, lilly, poor robin, partridge, and francis moore, physician, in england, and matthew laensbergh, in france and belgium. but great as were their pretensions, they were modesty itself in comparison with merlin, shipton, and nixon, who fixed their minds upon higher things than the weather, and who were not so restrained in their flights of fancy as to prophesy for only one year at a time. after such prophets as they, the almanack makers hardly deserve to be mentioned; no, not even the renowned partridge, whose wonderful prognostications set all england agog in , and whose death, at a time when he was still alive and kicking, was so pleasantly and satisfactorily proved by isaac bickerstaff. the anti-climax would be too palpable, and they and their doings must be left uncommemorated. popular admiration for great thieves. jack. where shall we find such another set of practical philosophers who, to a man, are above the fear of death? wat. sound men and true! robin. of tried courage and indefatigable industry! ned. who is there here that would not die for his friend? harry. who is there here that would betray him for his interest? mat. show me a gang of courtiers that could say as much! dialogue of thieves in the beggars' opera. whether it be that the multitude, feeling the pangs of poverty, sympathise with the daring and ingenious depredators who take away the rich man's superfluity, or whether it be the interest that mankind in general feel for the records of perilous adventures, it is certain that the populace of all countries look with admiration upon great and successful thieves. perhaps both these causes combine to invest their career with charms in the popular eye. almost every country in europe has its traditional thief, whose exploits are recorded with all the graces of poetry, and whose trespasses-- "--are cited up in rhymes, and sung by children in succeeding times." [shakspeare's rape of lucretia.] those travellers who have made national manners and characteristics their peculiar study, have often observed and remarked upon this feeling. the learned abbe le blanc, who resided for some time in england at the commencement of the eighteenth century, says, in his amusing letters on the english and french nations, that he continually met with englishmen who were not less vain in boasting of the success of their highwaymen than of the bravery of their troops. tales of their address, their cunning, or their generosity, were in the mouths of everybody, and a noted thief was a kind of hero in high repute. he adds that the mob, in all countries, being easily moved, look in general with concern upon criminals going to the gallows; but an english mob looked upon such scenes with 'extraordinary interest: they delighted to see them go through their last trials with resolution, and applauded those who were insensible enough to die as they had lived, braving the justice both of god and men: such, he might have added, as the noted robber macpherson, of whom the old ballad says-- "sae rantingly, sae wantonly, sae dauntingly gaed he: he played a spring, and danced it round beneath the gallows tree." among these traditional thieves the most noted in england, or perhaps in any country, is robin hood, a name which popular affection has encircled with a peculiar halo. "he robbed the rich to give to the poor;" and his reward has been an immortality of fame, a tithe of which would be thought more than sufficient to recompense a benefactor of his species. romance and poetry have been emulous to make him all their own; and the forest of sherwood, in which he roamed with his merry men, armed with their long bows, and clad in lincoln green, has become the resort of pilgrims, and a classic spot sacred to his memory. the few virtues he had, which would have ensured him no praise if he had been an honest man, have been blazoned forth by popular renown during seven successive centuries, and will never be forgotten while the english tongue endures. his charity to the poor, and his gallantry and respect for women, have made him the pre-eminent thief of all the world. among english thieves of a later date, who has not heard of claude duval, dick turpin, jonathan wild, and jack sheppard, those knights of the road and of the town, whose peculiar chivalry formed at once the dread and the delight of england during the eighteenth century? turpin's fame is unknown to no portion of the male population of england after they have attained the age of ten. his wondrous ride from london to york has endeared him to the imagination of millions; his cruelty in placing an old woman upon a fire, to force her to tell him where she had hidden her money, is regarded as a good joke; and his proud bearing upon the scaffold is looked upon as a virtuous action. the abbe le blanc, writing in , says he was continually entertained with stories of turpin--how, when he robbed gentlemen, he would generously leave them enough to continue their journey, and exact a pledge from them never to inform against him, and how scrupulous such gentlemen were in keeping their word. he was one day told a story with which the relator was he the highest degree delighted. turpin, or some other noted robber, stopped a man whom he knew to be very rich, with the usual salutation--"your money or your life!" but not finding more than five or six guineas about him, he took the liberty of entreating him, in the most affable manner, never to come out so ill provided; adding that, if he fell in with him, and he had no more than such a paltry sum, he would give him a good licking. another story, told by one of turpin's admirers, was of a robbery he had committed upon a mr. c. near cambridge. he took from this gentleman his watch, his snuff-box, and all his money but two shillings, and, before he left him, required his word of honour that he would not cause him to be pursued or brought before a justice. the promise being given, they both parted very courteously. they afterwards met at newmarket, and renewed their acquaintance. mr. c. kept his word religiously; he not only refrained from giving turpin into custody, but made a boast that he had fairly won some of his money back again in an honest way. turpin offered to bet with him on some favourite horse, and mr. c. accepted the wager with as good a grace as he could have done from the best gentleman in england. turpin lost his bet and paid it immediately, and was so smitten with the generous behaviour of mr. c. that he told him how deeply he regretted that the trifling affair which had happened between them did not permit them to drink together. the narrator of this anecdote was quite proud that england was the birthplace of such a highwayman. [the abbe, in the second volume, in the letter no. , dressed to monsieur de buffon, gives the following curious particulars of the robbers of , which are not without interest at this day, if it were only to show the vast improvement which has taken place since that period:--"it is usual, in travelling, to put ten or a dozen guineas in a separate pocket, as a tribute to the first that comes to demand them: the right of passport, which custom has established here in favour of the robbers, who are almost the only highway surveyors in england, has made this necessary; and accordingly the english call these fellows the 'gentlemen of the road,' the government letting them exercise their jurisdiction upon travellers without giving them any great molestation. to say the truth, they content themselves with only taking the money of those who obey without disputing; but notwithstanding their boasted humanity, the lives of those who endeavour to get away are not always safe. they are very strict and severe in levying their impost; and if a man has not wherewithal to pay them, he may run the chance of getting himself knocked on the head for his poverty. "about fifteen years ago, these robbers, with the view of maintaining their rights, fixed up papers at the doors of rich people about london, expressly forbidding all persons, of whatsoever quality or condition, from going out of town without ten guineas and a watch about them, on pain of death. in bad times, when there is little or nothing to be got on the roads, these fellows assemble in gangs, to raise contributions even in london itself; and the watchmen seldom trouble themselves to interfere with them in their vocation."] not less familiar to the people of england is the career of jack sheppard, as brutal a ruffian as ever disgraced his country, but who has claims upon the popular admiration which are very generally acknowledged. he did not, like robin hood, plunder the rich to relieve the poor, nor rob with an uncouth sort of courtesy, like turpin; but he escaped from newgate with the fetters on his limbs. this achievement, more than once repeated, has encircled his felon brow with the wreath of immortality, and made him quite a pattern thief among the populace. he was no more than twenty-three years of age at the time of his execution, and he died much pitied by the crowd. his adventures were the sole topics of conversation for months; the print-shops were filled with his effigies, and a fine painting of him was made by sir richard thornhill. the following complimentary verses to the artist appeared in the "british journal" of november th, . "thornhill! 'tis thine to gild with fame th' obscure, and raise the humble name; to make the form elude the grave, and sheppard from oblivion save! apelles alexander drew-- cesar is to aurelius due; cromwell in lilly's works doth shine, and sheppard, thornhill, lives in thine!" so high was jack's fame that a pantomime entertainment, called "harlequin jack sheppard," was devised by one thurmond, and brought out with great success at drury lane theatre. all the scenes were painted from nature, including the public-house that the robber frequented in claremarket, and the condemned cell from which he had made his escape in newgate. the rev. mr. villette, the editor of the "annals of newgate," published in , relates a curious sermon which, he says, a friend of his heard delivered by a street-preacher about the time of jack's execution. the orator, after animadverting on the great care men took of their bodies, and the little care they bestowed upon their souls, continued as follows, by way of exemplifying the position:--"we have a remarkable instance of this in a notorious malefactor, well known by the name of jack sheppard. what amazing difficulties has he overcome! what astonishing things has he performed! and all for the sake of a stinking, miserable carcass; hardly worth the hanging! how dexterously did he pick the chain of his padlock with a crooked nail! how manfully he burst his fetters asunder!--climb up the chimney!--wrench out an iron bar!--break his way through a stone wall!--make the strong door of a dark entry fly before him, till he got upon the leads of the prison! then, fixing a blanket to the wall with a spike, he stole out of the chapel. how intrepidly did he descend to the top of the turner's house!--how cautiously pass down the stair, and make his escape to the street door! "oh! that ye were all like jack sheppard! mistake me not, my brethren; i don't mean in a carnal, but in a spiritual sense, for i propose to spiritualise these things. what a shame it would be if we should not think it worth our while to take as much pains, and employ as many deep thoughts, to save our souls as he has done to preserve his body! "let me exhort ye, then, to open the locks of your hearts with the nail of repentance! burst asunder the fetters of your beloved lusts!--mount the chimney of hope!--take from thence the bar of good resolution!--break through the stone wall of despair, and all the strongholds in the dark entry of the valley of the shadow of death! raise yourselves to the leads of divine meditation!--fix the blanket of faith with the spike of the church! let yourselves down to the turner's house of resignation, and descend the stairs of humility! so shall you come to the door of deliverance from the prison of iniquity, and escape the clutches of that old executioner the devil!" but popular as the name of jack sheppard was immediately after he had suffered the last penalty of his crimes, it was as nothing compared to the vast renown which he has acquired in these latter days, after the lapse of a century and a quarter. poets too often, are not fully appreciated till they have been dead a hundred years, and thieves, it would appear, share the disadvantage. but posterity is grateful if our contemporaries are not; and jack sheppard, faintly praised in his own day, shines out in ours the hero of heroes, preeminent above all his fellows. thornhill made but one picture of the illustrious robber, but cruikshank has made dozens, and the art of the engraver has multiplied them into thousands and tens of thousands, until the populace of england have become as familiar with jack's features as they are with their own. jack, the romantic, is the hero of three goodly volumes, and the delight of the circulating libraries; and the theatres have been smitten with the universal enthusiasm. managers have set their playmongers at work, and jack's story has been reproduced in the shape of drama, melodrama, and farce, at half a dozen places of entertainment at once. never was such a display of popular regard for a hero as was exhibited in london in for the renowned jack sheppard: robbery acquired additional lustre in the popular eye, and not only englishmen, but foreigners, caught the contagion; and one of the latter, fired by the example, robbed and murdered a venerable, unoffending, and too confiding nobleman, whom it was his especial duty to have obeyed and protected. but he was a coward and a wretch;--it was a solitary crime--he had not made a daring escape from dungeon walls, or ridden from london to york, and he died amid the execrations of the people, affording a melancholy exemplification of the trite remark, that every man is not great who is desirous of being so. jonathan wild, whose name has been immortalised by fielding, was no favourite with the people. he had none of the virtues which, combined with crimes, make up the character of the great thief. he was a pitiful fellow, who informed against his comrades, and was afraid of death. this meanness was not to be forgiven by the crowd, and they pelted him with dirt and stones on his way to tyburn, and expressed their contempt by every possible means. how different was their conduct to turpin and jack sheppard, who died in their neatest attire, with nosegays in their button-holes, and with the courage that a crowd expects! it was anticipated that the body of turpin would have been delivered up to the surgeons for dissection, and the people seeing some men very busily employed in removing it, suddenly set upon them, rescued the body, bore it about the town in triumph, and then buried it in a very deep grave, filled with quick-lime, to hasten the progress of decomposition. they would not suffer the corpse of their hero, of the man who had ridden from london to york in four-and-twenty hours to be mangled by the rude hands of unmannerly surgeons. the death of claude duval would appear to have been no less triumphant. claude was a gentlemanly thief. according to butler, in the famous ode to his memory, he "taught the wild arabs of the road to rob in a more gentle mode; take prizes more obligingly than those who never had breen bred filous; and how to hang in a more graceful fashion than e'er was known before to the dull english nation." in fact, he was the pink of politeness, and his gallantry to the fair sex was proverbial. when he was caught at last, pent in "stone walls and chains and iron grates,"--their grief was in proportion to his rare merits and his great fame. butler says, that to his dungeon "--came ladies from all parts, to offer up close prisoners their hearts, which he received as tribute due-- * * * * never did bold knight, to relieve distressed dames, such dreadful feats achieve, as feeble damsels, for his sake, would have been proud to undertake, and, bravely ambitious to redeem the world's loss and their own, strove who should have the honour to lay down, and change a life with him." among the noted thieves of france, there is none to compare with the famous aimerigot tetenoire, who flourished in the reign of charles vi. this fellow was at the head of four or five hundred men, and possessed two very strong castles in limousin and auvergne. there was a good deal of the feudal baron about him, although he possessed no revenues but such as the road afforded him. at his death he left a singular will. "i give and bequeath," said the robber, "one thousand five hundred francs to st. george's chapel, for such repairs as it may need. to my sweet girl who so tenderly loved me, i give two thousand five hundred; and the surplus i give to my companions. i hope they will all live as brothers, and divide it amicably among them. if they cannot agree, and the devil of contention gets among them, it is no fault of mine; and i advise them to get a good strong, sharp axe, and break open my strong box. let them scramble for what it contains, and the devil seize the hindmost." the people of auvergne still recount with admiration the daring feats of this brigand. of later years, the french thieves have been such unmitigated scoundrels as to have left but little room for popular admiration. the famous cartouche, whose name has become synonymous with ruffian in their language, had none of the generosity, courtesy, and devoted bravery which are so requisite to make a robber-hero. he was born at paris, towards the end of the seventeenth century, and broken alive on the wheel in november . he was, however, sufficiently popular to have been pitied at his death, and afterwards to have formed the subject of a much admired drama, which bore his name, and was played with great success in all the theatres of france during the years , , and . in our own day the french have been more fortunate in a robber; vidocq bids fair to rival the fame of turpin and jack sheppard. already he has become the hero of many an apocryphal tale--already his compatriots boast of his manifold achievements, and express their doubts whether any other country in europe could produce a thief so clever, so accomplished, so gentlemanly, as vidocq. germany has its schinderhannes, hungary its schubry, and italy and spain a whole host of brigands, whose names and exploits are familiar as household words in the mouths of the children and populace of those countries. the italian banditti are renowned over the world; and many of them are not only very religious (after a fashion), but very charitable. charity from such a source is so unexpected, that the people dote upon them for it. one of them, when he fell into the hands of the police, exclaimed, as they led him away, "ho fatto pitt carita!"--"i have given away more in charity than any three convents in these provinces." and the fellow spoke truth. in lombardy, the people cherish the memory of two notorious robbers, who flourished about two centuries ago under the spanish government. their story, according to macfarlane, is contained in a little book well known to all the children of the province, and read by them with much more gusto than their bibles. schinderhannes, the robber of the rhine, is a great favourite on the banks of the river which he so long kept in awe. many amusing stories are related by the peasantry of the scurvy tricks he played off upon rich jews, or too-presuming officers of justice--of his princely generosity, and undaunted courage. in short, they are proud of him, and would no more consent to have the memory of his achievements dissociated from their river than they would to have the rock of ehrenbreitstein blown to atoms by gunpowder. there is another robber-hero, of whose character and exploits the people of germany speak admiringly. mausch nadel was captain of a considerable band that infested the rhine, switzerland, alsatia, and lorraine during the years , , and . like jack sheppard, he endeared himself to the populace by his most hazardous escape from prison. being confined, at bremen, in a dungeon, on the third story of the prison of that town, he contrived to let himself down without exciting the vigilance of the sentinels, and to swim across the weser, though heavily laden with irons. when about half way over, he was espied by a sentinel, who fired at him, and shot him in the calf of the leg: but the undaunted robber struck out manfully, reached the shore, and was out of sight before the officers of justice could get ready their boats to follow him. he was captured again in , tried at mayence, and sentenced to death. he was a tall, strong, handsome man, and his fate, villain as he was, excited much sympathy all over germany. the ladies especially were loud in their regret that nothing could be done to save a hero so good-looking, and of adventures so romantic, from the knife of the headsman. mr. macfarlane, in speaking of italian banditti, remarks, that the abuses of the catholic religion, with its confessions and absolutions, have tended to promote crime of this description. but, he adds, more truly, that priests and monks have not done half the mischief which has been perpetrated by ballad-mongers and story-tellers. if he had said play-wrights also, the list would have been complete. in fact, the theatre, which can only expect to prosper, in a pecuniary sense, by pandering to the tastes of the people, continually recurs to the annals of thieves and banditti for its most favourite heroes. these theatrical robbers; with their picturesque attire, wild haunts, jolly, reckless, devil-may-care manners, take a wonderful hold upon the imagination, and, whatever their advocates may say to the contrary, exercise a very pernicious influence upon public morals. in the memoirs of the duke of guise upon the revolution of naples in and , it is stated, that the manners, dress, and mode of life of the neapolitan banditti were rendered so captivating upon the stage, that the authorities found it absolutely necessary to forbid the representation of dramas in which they figured, and even to prohibit their costume at the masquerades. so numerous were the banditti at this time, that the duke found no difficulty in raising an army of them, to aid him in his endeavours to seize on the throne of naples. he thus describes them; [see also "foreign quarterly review," vol. iv. p. .] "they were three thousand five hundred men, of whom the oldest came short of five and forty years, and the youngest was above twenty. they were all tall and well made, with long black hair, for the most part curled, coats of black spanish leather, with sleeves of velvet, or cloth of gold, cloth breeches with gold lace, most of them scarlet; girdles of velvet, laced with gold, with two pistols on each side; a cutlass hanging at a belt, suitably trimmed, three fingers broad and two feet long; a hawking-bag at their girdle, and a powder-flask hung about their neck with a great silk riband. some of them carried firelocks, and others blunder-busses; they had all good shoes, with silk stockings, and every one a cap of cloth of gold, or cloth of silver, of different colours, on his head, which was very delightful to the eye." "the beggars' opera," in our own country, is another instance of the admiration that thieves excite upon the stage. of the extraordinary success of this piece, when first produced, the following account is given in the notes to "the dunciad," and quoted by johnson in his "lives of the poets." "this piece was received with greater applause than was ever known. besides being acted in london sixty-three days without interruption, and renewed the next season with equal applause, it spread into all the great towns of england; was played in many places to the thirtieth and fortieth time; at bath and bristol, &c. fifty. it made its progress into wales, scotland, and ireland, where it was performed twenty-four days successively. the ladies carried about with them the favourite songs of it in fans, and houses were furnished with it in screens. the fame of it was not confined to the author only. the person who acted polly, till then obscure, became all at once the favourite of the town; [lavinia fenton, afterwards duchess of bolton.] her pictures were engraved and sold in great numbers; her life written, books of letters and verses to her published, and pamphlets made even of her sayings and jests. furthermore, it drove out of england, for that season, the italian opera, which had carried all before it for ten years." dr. johnson, in his life of the author, says, that herring, afterwards archbishop of canterbury, censured the opera, as giving encouragement, not only to vice, but to crimes, by making the highwayman the hero, and dismissing him at last unpunished; and adds, that it was even said, that after the exhibition the gangs of robbers were evidently multiplied. the doctor doubts the assertion, giving as his reason that highwaymen and housebreakers seldom frequent the playhouse, and that it was not possible for any one to imagine that he might rob with safety, because he saw macheath reprieved upon the stage. but if johnson had wished to be convinced, he might very easily have discovered that highwaymen and housebreakers did frequent the theatre, and that nothing was more probable than that a laughable representation of successful villany should induce the young and the already vicious to imitate it. besides, there is the weighty authority of sir john fielding, the chief magistrate of bow street, who asserted positively, and proved his assertion by the records of his office, that the number of thieves was greatly increased at the time when that opera was so popular. we have another instance of the same result much nearer our own times. schiller's "rauber," that wonderful play, written by a green youth, perverted the taste and imagination of all the young men in germany. an accomplished critic of our own country (hazlitt), speaking of this play, says it was the first he ever read, and such was the effect it produced on him, that "it stunned him, like a blow." after the lapse of five-and-twenty years he could not forget it; it was still, to use his own words, "an old dweller in the chambers of his brain," and he had not even then recovered enough from it, to describe how it was. the high-minded, metaphysical thief, its hero, was so warmly admired, that several raw students, longing to imitate a character they thought so noble, actually abandoned their homes and their colleges, and betook themselves to the forests and wilds to levy contributions upon travellers. they thought they would, like moor, plunder the rich, and deliver eloquent soliloquies to the setting sun or the rising moon; relieve the poor when they met them, and drink flasks of rhenish with their free companions in rugged mountain passes, or in tents in the thicknesses of the forests. but a little experience wonderfully cooled their courage; they found that real, every-day robbers were very unlike the conventional banditti of the stage, and that three months in prison, with bread and water for their fare, and damp straw to lie upon, was very well to read about by their own fire sides, but not very agreeable to undergo in their own proper persons. lord byron, with his soliloquising, high-souled thieves, has, in a slight degree, perverted the taste of the greenhorns and incipient rhymesters of his country. as yet, however, they have shown more good sense than their fellows of germany, and have not taken to the woods or the highways. much as they admire conrad the corsair, they will not go to sea, and hoist the black flag in emulation of him. by words only, and not by deeds, they testify their admiration, and deluge the periodicals and music shops of the hand with verses describing pirates' and bandits' brides, and robber adventures of every kind. but it is the play-wright who does most harm; and byron has fewer sins of this nature to answer for than gay or schiller, and the modern dramatizers of jack sheppard. with the aid of scenery, fine dresses, and music, and the very false notions they convey, they vitiate the public taste, not knowing, "-----------vulgaires rimeurs quelle force ont les arts pour demolir les moeurs." in the penny theatres that abound in the poor and populous districts of london, and which are chiefly frequented by striplings of idle and dissolute habits, tales of thieves and murderers are more admired, and draw more crowded audiences, than any other species of representation. there the footpad, the burglar, and the highwayman are portrayed in unnatural colours, and give pleasant lessons in crime to their delighted listeners. there the deepest tragedy and the broadest farce are represented in the career of the murderer and the thief, and are applauded in proportion to their depth and their breadth. there, whenever a crime of unusual atrocity is committed, it is brought out afresh, with all its disgusting incidents copied from the life, for the amusement of those who will one day become its imitators. with the mere reader the case is widely different; and most people have a partiality for knowing the adventures of noted rogues. even in fiction they are delightful: witness the eventful story of gil blas de santillane, and of that great rascal don guzman d'alfarache. here there is no fear of imitation. poets, too, without doing mischief, may sing of such heroes when they please, wakening our sympathies for the sad fate of gilderoy, or macpherson the dauntless; or celebrating in undying verse the wrongs and the revenge of the great thief of scotland, rob roy. if, by the music of their sweet rhymes, they can convince the world that such heroes are but mistaken philosophers, born a few ages too late, and having both a theoretical and practical love for "the good old rule, the simple plan, that they should take who have the power, that they should keep who can," the world may, perhaps, become wiser, and consent to some better distribution of its good things, by means of which thieves may become reconciled to the age, and the age to them. the probability, however, seems to be, that the charmers will charm in vain, charm they ever so wisely. influence of politics and religion on the hair and beard. speak with respect and honour both of the beard and the beard's owner. hudibras, the famous declaration of st. paul, "that long hair was a shame unto a man" has been made the pretext for many singular enactments, both of civil and ecclesiastical governments. the fashion of the hair and the cut of the beard were state questions in france and england from the establishment of christianity until the fifteenth century. we find, too, that in much earlier times men were not permitted to do as they liked with their own hair. alexander the great thought that the beards of his soldiery afforded convenient handles for the enemy to lay hold of, preparatory to cutting off their heads; and, with the view of depriving them of this advantage, he ordered the whole of his army to be closely shaven. his notions of courtesy towards an enemy were quite different from those entertained by the north american indians, amongst whom it is held a point of honour to allow one "chivalrous lock" to grow, that the foe, in taking the scalp, may have something to catch hold of. at one time, long hair was the symbol of sovereignty in europe. we learn from gregory of tours that, among the successors of clovis, it was the exclusive privilege of the royal family to have their hair long, and curled. the nobles, equal to kings in power, would not show any inferiority in this respect, and wore not only their hair, but their beards, of an enormous length. this fashion lasted, with but slight changes, till the time of louis the debonnaire, but his successors, up to hugh capet, wore their hair short, by way of distinction. even the serfs had set all regulation at defiance, and allowed their locks and beards to grow. at the time of the invasion of england by william the conqueror, the normans wore their hair very short. harold, in his progress towards hastings, sent forward spies to view the strength and number of the enemy. they reported, amongst other things, on their return, that "the host did almost seem to be priests, because they had all their face and both their lips shaven." the fashion among the english at the time was to wear the hair long upon the head and the upper lip, but to shave the chin. when the haughty victors had divided the broad lands of the saxon thanes and franklins among them, when tyranny of every kind was employed to make the english feel that they were indeed a subdued and broken nation, the latter encouraged the growth of their hair, that they might resemble as little as possible their cropped and shaven masters. this fashion was exceedingly displeasing to the clergy, and prevailed to a considerable extent in france and germany. towards the end of the eleventh century, it was decreed by the pope, and zealously supported by the ecclesiastical authorities all over europe, that such persons as wore long hair should be excommunicated while living, and not be prayed for when dead. william of malmesbury relates, that the famous st. wulstan, bishop of worcester, was peculiarly indignant whenever he saw a man with long hair. he declaimed against the practice as one highly immoral, criminal, and beastly. he continually carried a small knife in his pocket, and whenever anybody, offending in this respect, knelt before him to receive his blessing, he would whip it out slily, and cut off a handful, and then, throwing it in his face, tell him to cut off all the rest, or he would go to hell. but fashion, which at times it is possible to move with a wisp, stands firm against a lever; and men preferred to run the risk of damnation to parting with the superfluity of their hair. in the time of henry i, anselm, archbishop of canterbury, found it necessary to republish the famous decree of excommunication and outlawry against the offenders; but, as the court itself had begun to patronize curls, the fulminations of the church were unavailing. henry i and his nobles wore their hair in long ringlets down their backs and shoulders, and became a scandalum magnatum in the eyes of the godly. one serlo, the king's chaplain, was so grieved in spirit at the impiety of his master, that he preached a sermon from the well-known text of st. paul, before the assembled court, in which he drew so dreadful a picture of the torments that awaited them in the other world, that several of them burst into tears, and wrung their hair, as if they would have pulled it out by the roots. henry himself was observed to weep. the priest, seeing the impression he had made, determined to strike while the iron was hot, and, pulling a pair of scissors from his pocket, cut the king's hair in presence of them all. several of the principal courtiers consented to do the like, and, for a short time, long hair appeared to be going out of fashion. but the courtiers thought, after the first glow of their penitence had been cooled by reflection, that the clerical dalilah had shorn them of their strength, and, in less than six months, they were as great sinners as ever. anselm, the archbishop of canterbury, who had been a monk of bec, in normandy, and who had signalized himself at rouen by his fierce opposition to long hair, was still anxious to work a reformation in this matter. but his pertinacity was far from pleasing to the king, who had finally made up his mind to wear ringlets. there were other disputes, of a more serious nature, between them; so that when the archbishop died, the king was so glad to be rid of him, that he allowed the see to remain vacant for five years. still the cause had other advocates, and every pulpit in the land resounded with anathemas against that disobedient and long-haired generation. but all was of no avail. stowe, in writing of this period, asserts, on the authority of some more ancient chronicler, "that men, forgetting their birth, transformed themselves, by the length of their haires, into the semblance of woman kind;" and that when their hair decayed from age, or other causes, "they knit about their heads certain rolls and braidings of false hair." at last accident turned the tide of fashion. a knight of the court, who was exceedingly proud of his beauteous locks, dreamed one night that, as he lay in bed, the devil sprang upon him, and endeavoured to choke him with his own hair. he started in affright, and actually found that he had a great quantity of hair in his mouth. sorely stricken in conscience, and looking upon the dream as a warning from heaven, he set about the work of reformation, and cut off his luxuriant tresses the same night. the story was soon bruited abroad; of course it was made the most of by the clergy, and the knight, being a man of influence and consideration, and the acknowledged leader of the fashion, his example, aided by priestly exhortations, was very generally imitated. men appeared almost as decent as st. wulstan himself could have wished, the dream of a dandy having proved more efficacious than the entreaties of a saint. but, as stowe informs us, "scarcely was one year past, when all that thought themselves courtiers fell into the former vice, and contended with women in their long haires." henry, the king, appears to have been quite uninfluenced by the dreams of others, for even his own would not induce him a second time to undergo a cropping from priestly shears. it is said, that he was much troubled at this time by disagreeable visions. having offended the church in this and other respects, he could get no sound refreshing sleep, and used to imagine that he saw all the bishops, abbots, and monks of every degree, standing around his bed-side, and threatening to belabour him with their pastoral staves; which sight, we are told, so frightened him, that he often started naked out of his bed, and attacked the phantoms sword in hand. grimbalde, his physician, who, like most of his fraternity at that day, was an ecclesiastic, never hinted that his dreams were the result of a bad digestion, but told him to shave his head, be reconciled to the church, and reform himself with alms and prayer. but he would not take this good advice, and it was not until he had been nearly drowned a year afterwards, in a violent storm at sea, that he repented of his evil ways, cut his hair short, and paid proper deference to the wishes of the clergy. in france, the thunders of the vatican with regard to long curly hair were hardly more respected than in england. louis vii. however, was more obedient than his brother-king, and cropped himself as closely as a monk, to the great sorrow of all the gallants of his court. his queen, the gay, haughty, and pleasure-seeking eleanor of guienne, never admired him in this trim, and continually reproached him with imitating, not only the headdress, but the asceticism of the monks. from this cause, a coldness arose between them. the lady proving at last unfaithful to her shaven and indifferent lord, they were divorced, and the kings of france lost the rich provinces of guienne and poitou, which were her dowry. she soon after bestowed her hand and her possessions upon henry duke of normandy, afterwards henry ii of england, and thus gave the english sovereigns that strong footing in france which was for so many centuries the cause of such long and bloody wars between the nations. when the crusades had drawn all the smart young fellows into palestine, the clergy did not find it so difficult to convince the staid burghers who remained in europe, of the enormity of long hair. during the absence of richard coeur de lion, his english subjects not only cut their hair close, but shaved their faces. william fitzosbert, or long-beard, the great demagogue of that day, reintroduced among the people who claimed to be of saxon origin the fashion of long hair. he did this with the view of making them as unlike as possible to the citizens and the normans. he wore his own beard hanging down to his waist, from whence the name by which he is best known to posterity. the church never showed itself so great an enemy to the beard as to long hair on the head. it generally allowed fashion to take its own course, both with regard to the chin and the upper lip. this fashion varied continually; for we find that, in little more than a century after the time of richard i, when beards were short, that they had again become so long as to be mentioned in the famous epigram made by the scots who visited london in , when david, son of robert bruce, was married to joan, the sister of king edward. this epigram, which was stuck on the church-door of st. peter stangate, ran as follows-- "long beards heartlesse, painted hoods witlesse, gray coats gracelesse, make england thriftlesse." when the emperor charles v. ascended the throne of spain, he had no beard. it was not to be expected that the obsequious parasites who always surround a monarch, could presume to look more virile than their master. immediately all the courtiers appeared beardless, with the exception of such few grave old men as had outgrown the influence of fashion, and who had determined to die bearded as they had lived. sober people in general saw this revolution with sorrow and alarm, and thought that every manly virtue would be banished with the beard. it became at the time a common saying,-- "desde que no hay barba, no hay mas alma." we have no longer souls since we have lost our beards. in france, also, the beard fell into disrepute after the death of henry iv, from the mere reason that his successor was too young to have one. some of the more immediate friends of the great bearnais, and his minister sully among the rest, refused to part with their beards, notwithstanding the jeers of the new generation. who does not remember the division of england into the two great parties of roundheads and cavaliers? in those days, every species of vice and iniquity was thought by the puritans to lurk in the long curly tresses of the monarchists, while the latter imagined that their opponents were as destitute of wit, of wisdom, and of virtue, as they were of hair. a man's locks were the symbol of his creed, both in politics and religion. the more abundant the hair, the more scant the faith; and the balder the head, the more sincere the piety. but among all the instances of the interference of governments with men's hair, the most extraordinary, not only for its daring, but for its success is that of peter the great, in . by this time, fashion had condemned the beard in every other country in europe, and with a voice more potent than popes or emperors, had banished it from civilized society. but this only made the russians cling more fondly to their ancient ornament, as a mark to distinguish them from foreigners, whom they hated. peter, however resolved that they should be shaven. if he had been a man deeply read in history, he might have hesitated before he attempted so despotic an attack upon the time-hallowed customs and prejudices of his countrymen; but he was not. he did not know or consider the danger of the innovation; he only listened to the promptings of his own indomitable will, and his fiat went forth, that not only the army, but all ranks of citizens, from the nobles to the serfs, should shave their beards. a certain time was given, that people might get over the first throes of their repugnance, after which every man who chose to retain his beard was to pay a tax of one hundred roubles. the priests and the serfs were put on a lower footing, and allowed to retain theirs upon payment of a copeck every time they passed the gate of a city. great discontent existed in consequence, but the dreadful fate of the strelitzes was too recent to be forgotten, and thousands who had the will had not the courage to revolt. as is well remarked by a writer in the "encyclopedia britannica," they thought it wiser to cut off their beards than to run the risk of incensing a man who would make no scruple in cutting off their heads. wiser, too, than the popes and bishops of a former age, he did not threaten them with eternal damnation, but made them pay in hard cash the penalty of their disobedience. for many years, a very considerable revenue was collected from this source. the collectors gave in receipt for its payment a small copper coin, struck expressly for the purpose, and called the "borodovaia," or "the bearded." on one side it bore the figure of a nose, mouth, and moustachios, with a long bushy beard, surmounted by the words, "deuyee vyeatee," "money received;" the whole encircled by a wreath, and stamped with the black eagle of russia. on the reverse, it bore the date of the year. every man who chose to wear a beard was obliged to produce this receipt on his entry into a town. those who were refractory, and refused to pay the tax, were thrown into prison. since that day, the rulers of modern europe have endeavoured to persuade, rather than to force, in all matters pertaining to fashion. the vatican troubles itself no more about beards or ringlets, and men may become hairy as bears, if such is their fancy, without fear of excommunication or deprivation of their political rights. folly has taken a new start, and cultivates the moustachio. even upon this point governments will not let men alone. religion as yet has not meddled with it; but perhaps it will; and politics already influence it considerably. before the revolution of , neither the french nor belgian citizens were remarkable for their moustachios; but, after that event, there was hardly a shopkeeper either in paris or brussels whose upper lip did not suddenly become hairy with real or mock moustachios. during a temporary triumph gained by the dutch soldiers over the citizens of louvain, in october , it became a standing joke against the patriots, that they shaved their faces clean immediately; and the wits of the dutch army asserted, that they had gathered moustachios enough from the denuded lips of the belgians to stuff mattresses for all the sick and wounded in their hospital. the last folly of this kind is still more recent. in the german newspapers, of august , appeared an ordonnance, signed by the king of bavaria, forbidding civilians, on any pretence whatever, to wear moustachios, and commanding the police and other authorities to arrest, and cause to be shaved, the offending parties. "strange to say," adds "le droit," the journal from which this account is taken, "moustachios disappeared immediately, like leaves from the trees in autumn; everybody made haste to obey the royal order, and not one person was arrested." the king of bavaria, a rhymester of some celebrity, has taken a good many poetical licences in his time. his licence in this matter appears neither poetical nor reasonable. it is to be hoped that he will not take it into his royal head to make his subjects shave theirs; nothing but that is wanting to complete their degradation. duels and ordeals there was an ancient sage philosopher, who swore the world, as he could prove, was mad of fighting. * * * hudibras, most writers, in accounting for the origin of duelling, derive it from the warlike habits of those barbarous nations who overran europe in the early centuries of the christian era, and who knew no mode so effectual for settling their differences as the point of the sword. in fact, duelling, taken in its primitive and broadest sense, means nothing more than combatting, and is the universal resort of all wild animals, including man, to gain or defend their possessions, or avenge their insults. two dogs who tear each other for a bone, or two bantams fighting on a dunghill for the love of some beautiful hen, or two fools on wimbledon common, shooting at each other to satisfy the laws of offended honour, stand on the same footing in this respect, and are, each and all, mere duellists. as civilization advanced, the best informed men naturally grew ashamed of such a mode of adjusting disputes, and the promulgation of some sort of laws for obtaining redress for injuries was the consequence. still there were many cases in which the allegations of an accuser could not be rebutted by any positive proof on the part of the accused; and in all these, which must have been exceedingly numerous in the early stages of european society, the combat was resorted to. from its decision there was no appeal. god was supposed to nerve the arm of the combatant whose cause was just, and to grant him the victory over his opponent. as montesquieu well remarks, ["esprit des loix," liv. xxviii. chap. xvii.] this belief was not unnatural among a people just emerging from barbarism. their manners being wholly warlike, the man deficient in courage, the prime virtue of his fellows, was not unreasonably suspected of other vices besides cowardice, which is generally found to be co-existent with treachery. he, therefore, who showed himself most valiant in the encounter, was absolved by public opinion from any crime with which he might be charged. as a necessary consequence, society would have been reduced to its original elements, if the men of thought, as distinguished from the men of action, had not devised some means for taming the unruly passions of their fellows. with this view, governments commenced by restricting within the narrowest possible limits the cases in which it was lawful to prove or deny guilt by the single combat. by the law of gondebaldus, king of the burgundians, passed in the year , the proof by combat was allowed in all legal proceedings, in lieu of swearing. in the time of charlemagne, the burgundian practice had spread over the empire of the francs, and not only the suitors for justice, but the witnesses, and even the judges, were obliged to defend their cause, their evidence, or their decision, at the point of the sword. louis the debonnaire, his successor, endeavoured to remedy the growing evil, by permitting the duel only in appeals of felony, in civil cases, or issue joined in a writ of right, and in cases of the court of chivalry, or attacks upon a man's knighthood. none were exempt from these trials, but women, the sick and the maimed, and persons under fifteen or above sixty years of age. ecclesiastics were allowed to produce champions in their stead. this practice, in the course of time, extended to all trials of civil and criminal cases, which had to be decided by battle. the clergy, whose dominion was an intellectual one, never approved of a system of jurisprudence which tended so much to bring all things under the rule of the strongest arm. from the first they set their faces against duelling, and endeavoured, as far as the prejudices of their age would allow them, to curb the warlike spirit, so alien from the principles of religion. in the council of valentia, and afterwards in the council of trent, they excommunicated all persons engaged in duelling, and not only them, but even the assistants and spectators, declaring the custom to be hellish and detestable, and introduced by the devil for the destruction both of body and soul. they added, also, that princes who connived at duels, should be deprived of all temporal power, jurisdiction, and dominion over the places where they had permitted them to be fought. it will be seen hereafter that this clause only encouraged the practice which it was intended to prevent. but it was the blasphemous error of these early ages to expect that the almighty, whenever he was called upon, would work a miracle in favour of a person unjustly accused. the priesthood, in condemning the duel, did not condemn the principle on which it was founded. they still encouraged the popular belief of divine interference in all the disputes or differences that might arise among nations or individuals. it was the very same principle that regulated the ordeals, which, with all their influence, they supported against the duel. by the former, the power of deciding the guilt or innocence was vested wholly in their hands, while, by the latter, they enjoyed no power or privilege at all. it is not to be wondered at, that for this reason, if for no other, they should have endeavoured to settle all differences by the peaceful mode. while that prevailed, they were as they wished to be, the first party in the state; but while the strong arm of individual prowess was allowed to be the judge in all doubtful cases, their power and influence became secondary to those of nobility. thus, it was not the mere hatred of bloodshed which induced them to launch the thunderbolts excommunication against the combatants; it a desire to retain the power, which, to do them justice, they were, in those times, the persons best qualified to wield. the germs of knowledge and civilization lay within the bounds of their order; for they were the representatives of the intellectual, as the nobility were of the physical power of man. to centralize this power in the church, and make it the judge of the last resort in all appeals, both in civil and criminal cases, they instituted five modes of trial, the management of which lay wholly in their hands. these were the oath upon the evangelists; the ordeal of the cross, and the fire ordeal, for persons in the higher ranks; the water ordeal, for the humbler classes; and, lastly, the corsned, or bread and cheese ordeal, for members of their own body. the oath upon the evangelists was taken in the following manner: the accused who was received to this proof, says paul hay, count du chastelet, in his memoirs of bertrand du guesclin, swore upon a copy of the new testament, and on the relics of the holy martyrs, or on their tombs, that he was innocent of the crime imputed to him. he was also obliged to find twelve persons, of acknowledged probity, who should take oath at the same time, that they believed him innocent. this mode of trial led to very great abuses, especially in cases of disputed inheritance, where the hardest swearer was certain of the victory. this abuse was one of the principal causes which led to the preference given to the trial by battle. it is not all surprising that a feudal baron, or captain of the early ages, should have preferred the chances of a fair fight with his opponent, to a mode by which firm perjury would always be successful. the trial by, or judgment of, the cross, which charlemagne begged his sons to have recourse to, in case of disputes arising between them, was performed thus:--when a person accused of any crime had declared his innocence upon oath, and appealed to the cross for its judgment in his favour, he was brought into the church, before the altar. the priests previously prepared two sticks exactly like one another, upon one of which was carved a figure of the cross. they were both wrapped up with great care and many ceremonies, in a quantity of fine wool, and laid upon the altar, or on the relics of the saints. a solemn prayer was then offered up to god, that he would be pleased to discover, by the judgment of his holy cross, whether the accused person were innocent or guilty. a priest then approached the altar, and took up one of the sticks, and the assistants unswathed it reverently. if it was marked with the cross, the accused person was innocent; if unmarked, he was guilty. it would be unjust to assert, that the judgments thus delivered were, in all cases, erroneous; and it would be absurd to believe that they were left altogether to chance. many true judgments were doubtless given, and, in all probability, most conscientiously; for we cannot but believe that the priests endeavoured beforehand to convince themselves by secret inquiry and a strict examination of the circumstances, whether the appellant were innocent or guilty, and that they took up the crossed or uncrossed stick accordingly. although, to all other observers, the sticks, as enfolded in the wool, might appear exactly similar, those who enwrapped them could, without any difficulty, distinguish the one from the other. by the fire-ordeal the power of deciding was just as unequivocally left in their hands. it was generally believed that fire would not burn the innocent, and the clergy, of course, took care that the innocent, or such as it was their pleasure or interest to declare so, should be so warned before undergoing the ordeal, as to preserve themselves without any difficulty from the fire. one mode of ordeal was to place red-hot ploughshares on the ground at certain distances, and then, blindfolding the accused person, make him walk barefooted over them. if he stepped regularly in the vacant spaces, avoiding the fire, he was adjudged innocent; if he burned himself, he was declared guilty. as none but the clergy interfered with the arrangement of the ploughshares, they could always calculate beforehand the result of the ordeal. to find a person guilty, they had only to place them at irregular distances, and the accused was sure to tread upon one of them. when emma, the wife of king ethelred, and mother of edward the confessor, was accused of a guilty familiarity with alwyn, bishop of winchester, she cleared her character in this manner. the reputation, not only of their order, but of a queen, being at stake, a verdict of guilty was not to be apprehended from any ploughshares which priests had the heating of. this ordeal was called the judicium dei, and sometimes the vulgaris purgatio, and might also be tried by several other methods. one was to hold in the hand, unhurt, a piece of red-hot iron, of the weight of one, two, or three pounds. when we read not only that men with hard hands, but women of softer and more delicate skin, could do this with impunity, we must be convinced that the hands were previously rubbed with some preservative, or that the apparently hot iron was merely cold iron painted red. another mode was to plunge the naked arm into a caldron of boiling water. the priests then enveloped it in several folds of linen and flannel, and kept the patient confined within the church, and under their exclusive care, for three days. if, at the end of that time, the arm appeared without a scar, the innocence of the accused person was firmly established. [very similar to this is the fire-ordeal of the modern hindoos, which is thus described in forbes's "oriental memoirs," vol. i. c. xi.--"when a man, accused of a capital crime, chooses to undergo the ordeal trial, he is closely confined for several days; his right hand and arm are covered with thick wax-cloth, tied up and sealed, in the presence of proper officers, to prevent deceit. in the english districts the covering was always sealed with the company's arms, and the prisoner placed under an european guard. at the time fixed for the ordeal, a caldron of oil is placed over a fire; when it boils, a piece of money is dropped into the vessel; the prisoner's arm is unsealed, and washed in the presence of his judges and accusers. during this part of the ceremony, the attendant brahmins supplicate the deity. on receiving their benediction, the accused plunges his hand into the boiling fluid, and takes out the coin. the arm is afterwards again sealed up until the time appointed for a re-examination. the seal is then broken: if no blemish appears, the prisoner is declared innocent; if the contrary, he suffers the punishment due to his crime." * * * on this trial the accused thus addresses the element before plunging his hand into the boiling oil:--"thou, o fire! pervadest all things. o cause of purity! who givest evidence of virtue and of sin, declare the truth in this my hand!" if no juggling were practised, the decisions by this ordeal would be all the same way; but, as some are by this means declared guilty, and others innocent, it is clear that the brahmins, like the christian priests of the middle ages, practise some deception in saving those whom they wish to be thought guiltless.] as regards the water-ordeal, the same trouble was not taken. it was a trial only for the poor and humble, and, whether they sank or swam, was thought of very little consequence. like the witches of more modern times, the accused were thrown into a pond or river; if they sank, and were drowned, their surviving friends had the consolation of knowing that they were innocent; if they swam, they were guilty. in either case society was rid of them. but of all the ordeals, that which the clergy reserved for themselves was the one least likely to cause any member of their corps to be declared guilty. the most culpable monster in existence came off clear when tried by this method. it was called the corsned, and was thus performed. a piece of barley bread and a piece of cheese were laid upon the altar, and the accused priest, in his full canonicals, and surrounded by all the pompous adjuncts of roman ceremony, pronounced certain conjurations, and prayed with great fervency for several minutes. the burden of his prayer was, that if he were guilty of the crime laid to his charge, god would send his angel gabriel to stop his throat, that he might not be able to swallow the bread and cheese. there is no instance upon record of a priest having been choked in this manner. [an ordeal very like this is still practised in india. consecrated rice is the article chosen, instead of bread and cheese. instances are not rare in which, through the force of imagination, guilty persons are not able to swallow a single grain. conscious of their crime, and fearful of the punishment of heaven, they feel a suffocating sensation in their throat when they attempt it, and they fall on their knees, and confess all that is laid to their charge. the same thing, no doubt, would have happened with the bread and cheese of the roman church, if it had been applied to any others but ecclesiastics. the latter had too much wisdom to be caught in a trap of their own setting.] when, under pope gregory vii, it was debated whether the gregorian chant should be introduced into castile, instead of the musarabic, given by st. isidore, of seville, to the churches of that kingdom, very much ill feeling was excited. the churches refused to receive the novelty, and it was proposed that the affair should be decided by a battle between two champions, one chosen from each side. the clergy would not consent to a mode of settlement which they considered impious, but had no objection to try the merits of each chant by the fire ordeal. a great fire was accordingly made, and a book of the gregorian and one of the musarabic chant were thrown into it, that the flames might decide which was most agreeable to god by refusing to burn it. cardinal baronius, who says he was an eye-witness of the miracle, relates, that the book of the gregorian chant was no sooner laid upon the fire, than it leaped out uninjured, visibly, and with a great noise. every one present thought that the saints had decided in favour of pope gregory. after a slight interval, the fire was extinguished; but, wonderful to relate! the other book of st. isidore was found covered with ashes, but not injured in the slightest degree. the flames had not even warmed it. upon this it was resolved, that both were alike agreeable to god, and that they should be used by turns in all the churches of seville? [histoire de messire bertrand du guesclin, par paul hay du chastelet. livre i. chap. xix.] if the ordeals had been confined to questions like this, the laity would have had little or no objection to them; but when they were introduced as decisive in all the disputes that might arise between man and man, the opposition of all those whose prime virtue was personal bravery, was necessarily excited. in fact, the nobility, from a very early period, began to look with jealous eyes upon them. they were not slow to perceive their true purport, which was no other than to make the church the last court of appeal in all cases, both civil and criminal: and not only did the nobility prefer the ancient mode of single combat from this cause, in itself a sufficient one, but they clung to it because an acquittal gained by those displays of courage and address which the battle afforded, was more creditable in the eyes of their compeers, than one which it required but little or none of either to accomplish. to these causes may be added another, which was, perhaps, more potent than either, in raising the credit of the judicial combat at the expense of the ordeal. the noble institution of chivalry was beginning to take root, and, notwithstanding the clamours of the clergy, war was made the sole business of life, and the only elegant pursuit of the aristocracy. the fine spirit of honour was introduced, any attack upon which was only to be avenged in the lists, within sight of applauding crowds, whose verdict of approbation was far more gratifying than the cold and formal acquittal of the ordeal. lothaire, the son of louis i, abolished that by fire and the trial of the cross within his dominions; but in england they were allowed so late as the time of henry iii, in the early part of whose reign they were prohibited by an order of council. in the mean time, the crusades had brought the institution of chivalry to the full height of perfection. the chivalric spirit soon achieved the downfall of the ordeal system, and established the judicial combat on a basis too firm to be shaken. it is true that with the fall of chivalry, as an institution, fell the tournament, and the encounter in the lists; but the duel, their offspring, has survived to this day, defying the efforts of sages and philosophers to eradicate it. among all the errors bequeathed to us by a barbarous age, it has proved the most pertinacious. it has put variance between men's reason and their honour; put the man of sense on a level with the fool, and made thousands who condemn it submit to it, or practise it. those who are curious to see the manner in which these combats were regulated, may consult the learned montesquieu, where they will find a copious summary of the code of ancient duelling. ["esprit des loix," livre xxviii. chap. xxv.] truly does he remark, in speaking of the clearness and excellence of the arrangements, that, as there were many wise matters which were conducted in a very foolish manner, so there were many foolish matters conducted very wisely. no greater exemplification of it could be given, than the wise and religious rules of the absurd and blasphemous trial by battle. in the ages that intervened between the crusades and the new era that was opened out by the invention of gunpowder and printing, a more rational system of legislation took root. the inhabitants of cities, engaged in the pursuits of trade and industry, were content to acquiesce in the decisions of their judges and magistrates whenever any differences arose among them. unlike the class above them, their habits and manners did not lead them to seek the battle-field on every slight occasion. a dispute as to the price of a sack of corn, a bale of broad-cloth, or a cow, could be more satisfactorily adjusted before the mayor or bailiff of their district. even the martial knights and nobles, quarrelsome as they were, began to see that the trial by battle would lose its dignity and splendour if too frequently resorted to. governments also shared this opinion, and on several occasions restricted the cases in which it was legal to proceed to this extremity. in france, before the time of louis ix, duels were permitted only in cases of lese majesty, rape, incendiarism, assassination, and burglary. louis ix, by taking off all restriction, made them legal in civil eases. this was not found to work well, and, in , philip the fair judged it necessary to confine them, in criminal matters, to state offences, rape, and incendiarism; and in civil cases, to questions of disputed inheritance. knighthood was allowed to be the best judge of its own honour, and might defend or avenge it as often as occasion arose. among the earliest duels upon record, is a very singular one that took place in the reign of louis ii (a.d. ). ingelgerius, count of gastinois, was one morning discovered by his countess dead in bed at her side. gontran, a relation of the count, accused the countess of having murdered her husband, to whom, he asserted, she had long been unfaithful, and challenged her to produce a champion to do battle in her behalf, that he might establish her guilt by killing him.[memoires de brantome touchant les duels.] all the friends and relatives of the countess believed in her innocence; but gontran was so stout and bold and renowned a warrior, that no one dared to meet him, for which, as brantome quaintly says, "mauvais et poltrons parens estaient." the unhappy countess began to despair, when a champion suddenly appeared in the person of ingelgerius, count of anjou, a boy of sixteen years of age, who had been held by the countess on the baptismal font, and received her husband's name. he tenderly loved his godmother, and offered to do battle in her cause against any and every opponent. the king endeavoured to persuade the generous boy from his enterprise, urging the great strength, tried skill, and invincible courage of the challenger; but he persisted in his resolution, to the great sorrow of all the court, who said it was a cruel thing to permit so brave and beautiful a child to rush to such butchery and death. when the lists were prepared, the countess duly acknowledged her champion, and the combatants commenced the onset. gontran rode so fiercely at his antagonist, and hit him on the shield with such impetuosity, that he lost his own balance and rolled to the ground. the young count, as gontran fell, passed his lance through his body, and then dismounting, cut off his head, which, brantome says, "he presented to the king, who received it most graciously, and was very joyful, as much so as if any one had made him a present of a city." the innocence of the countess was then proclaimed with great rejoicings; and she kissed her godson, and wept over his neck with joy, in the presence of all the assembly. when the earl of essex was accused, by robert de montfort, before king henry ii, in , of having traitorously suffered the royal standard of england to fall from his hands in a skirmish with the welsh, at coleshill, five years previously, the latter offered to prove the truth of the charge by single combat. the earl of essex accepted the challenge, and the lists were prepared near reading. an immense concourse of persons assembled to witness the battle. essex at first fought stoutly, but, losing his temper and self-command, he gave an advantage to his opponent, which soon decided the struggle. he was unhorsed, and so severely wounded, that all present thought he was dead. at the solicitation of his relatives, the monks of the abbey of reading were allowed to remove the body for interment, and montfort was declared the victor. essex, however, was not dead, but stunned only, and, under the care of the monks, recovered in a few weeks from his bodily injuries. the wounds of his mind were not so easily healed. though a loyal and brave subject, the whole realm believed him a traitor and a coward because he had been vanquished. he could not brook to return to the world deprived of the good opinion of his fellows; he, therefore, made himself a monk, and passed the remainder of his days within the walls of the abbey. du chastelet relates a singular duel that was proposed in spain.[histoire de messire bertrand du guesclin, livre i. chap. xix.] a christian gentleman of seville sent a challenge to a moorish cavalier, offering to prove against him, with whatever weapons he might choose, that the religion of jesus christ was holy and divine, and that of mahomet impious and damnable. the spanish prelates did not choose that christianity should be com promised within their jurisdiction by the result of any such combat, and they commanded the knight, under pain of excommunication, to withdraw the challenge. the same author relates, that under otho i a question arose among jurisconsults, viz. whether grandchildren, who had lost their father, should share equally with their uncles in the property of their grandfather, at the death of the latter. the difficulty of this question was found so insurmountable, that none of the lawyers of that day could resolve it. it was at last decreed, that it should be decided by single combat. two champions were accordingly chosen; one for, and the other against, the claims of the little ones. after a long struggle, the champion of the uncles was unhorsed and slain; and it was, therefore, decided, that the right of the grandchildren was established, and that they should enjoy the same portion of their grandfather's possessions that their father would have done had he been alive. upon pretexts, just as frivolous as these, duels continued to be fought in most of the countries of europe during the whole of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. a memorable instance of the slightness of the pretext on which a man could be forced to fight a duel to the death, occurs in the memoirs of the brave constable, du guesclin. the advantage he had obtained, in a skirmish before rennes, against william brembre, an english captain, so preyed on the spirits of william troussel, the chosen friend and companion of the latter, that nothing would satisfy him but a mortal combat with the constable. the duke of lancaster, to whom troussel applied for permission to fight the great frenchman, forbade the battle, as not warranted by the circumstances. troussel nevertheless burned with a fierce desire to cross his weapon with du guesclin, and sought every occasion to pick a quarrel with him. having so good a will for it, of course he found a way. a relative of his had been taken prisoner by the constable, in whose hands he remained till he was able to pay his ransom. troussel resolved to make a quarrel out of this, and despatched a messenger to du guesclin, demanding the release of his prisoner, and offering a bond, at a distant date, for the payment of the ransom. du guesclin, who had received intimation of the hostile purposes of the englishman, sent back word, that he would not accept his bond, neither would he release his prisoner, until the full amount of his ransom was paid. as soon as this answer was received, troussel sent a challenge to the constable, demanding reparation for the injury he had done his honour, by refusing his bond, and offering a mortal combat, to be fought three strokes with the lance, three with the sword, and three with the dagger. du guesclin, although ill in bed with the ague, accepted the challenge, and gave notice to the marshal d'andreghem, the king's lieutenant-general in lower normandy, that he might fix the day and the place of combat. the marshal made all necessary arrangements, upon condition that he who was beaten should pay a hundred florins of gold to feast the nobles and gentlemen who were witnesses of the encounter. the duke of lancaster was very angry with his captain, and told him, that it would be a shame to his knighthood and his nation, if he forced on a combat with the brave du guesclin, at a time when he was enfeebled by disease and stretched on the couch of suffering. upon these representations, troussel, ashamed of himself, sent notice to du guesclin that he was willing to postpone the duel until such time as he should be perfectly recovered. du guesclin replied, that he could not think of postponing the combat, after all the nobility had received notice of it; that he had sufficient strength left, not only to meet, but to conquer such an opponent as he was; and that, if he did not make his appearance in the lists at the time appointed, he would publish him everywhere as a man unworthy to be called a knight, or to wear an honourable sword by his side. troussel carried this haughty message to the duke of lancaster, who immediately gave permission for the battle. on the day appointed, the two combatants appeared in the lists, in the presence of several thousand spectators. du guesclin was attended by the flower of the french nobility, including the marshal de beaumanoir, olivier de mauny, bertrand de saint pern, and the viscount de la belliere, while the englishman appeared with no more than the customary retinue of two seconds, two squires, two coutilliers, or daggermen, and two trumpeters. the first onset was unfavourable to the constable: he received so heavy a blow on his shield-arm, that he fell forward to the left, upon his horse's neck, and, being weakened by his fever, was nearly thrown to the ground. all his friends thought he could never recover himself, and began to deplore his ill fortune; but du guesclin collected his energies for a decisive effort, and, at the second charge, aimed a blow at the shoulder of his enemy, which felled him to the earth, mortally wounded. he then sprang from his horse, sword in hand, with the intention of cutting off the head of his fallen foe, when the marshal d'andreghem threw a golden wand into the arena, as a signal that hostilities should cease. du guesclin was proclaimed the victor, amid the joyous acclamations of the crowd, and retiring, left the field to the meaner combatants, who were afterwards to make sport for the people. four english and as many french squires fought for some time with pointless lances, when the french, gaining the advantage, the sports were declared at an end. in the time of charles vi, about the beginning of the fifteenth century, a famous duel was ordered by the parliament of paris. the sieur de carrouges being absent in the holy land, his lady was violated by the sieur legris. carrouges, on his return, challenged legris to mortal combat, for the twofold crime of violation and slander, inasmuch as he had denied his guilt, by asserting that the lady was a willing party. the lady's asseverations of innocence were held to be no evidence by the parliament, and the duel was commanded with all the ceremonies. "on the day appointed," says brantome, [memoires de brantome touchant les duels.] "the lady came to witness the spectacle in her chariot; but the king made her descend, judging her unworthy, because she was criminal in his eyes till her innocence was proved, and caused her to stand upon a scaffold to await the mercy of god and this judgment by the battle. after a short struggle, the sieur de carrouges overthrew his enemy, and made him confess both the rape and the slander. he was then taken to the gallows and hanged in the presence of the multitude; while the innocence of the lady was proclaimed by the heralds, and recognized by her husband, the king, and all the spectators." numerous battles, of a similar description, constantly took place, until the unfortunate issue of one encounter of the kind led the french king, henry ii, to declare solemnly, that he would never again permit any such encounter, whether it related to a civil or criminal case, or the honour of a gentleman. this memorable combat was fought in the year . francois de vivonne, lord of la chataigneraie, and guy de chabot, lord of jarnac, had been friends from their early youth, and were noted at the court of francis i for the gallantry of their bearing and the magnificence of their retinue. chataigneraie, who knew that his friend's means were not very ample, asked him one day, in confidence, how it was that he contrived to be so well provided? jarnac replied, that his father had married a young and beautiful woman, who, loving the son far better than the sire, supplied him with as much money as he desired. la chataigneraie betrayed the base secret to the dauphin, the dauphin to the king, the king to his courtiers, and the courtiers to all their acquaintance. in a short time it reached the ears of the old lord de jarnac, who immediately sent for his son, and demanded to know in what manner the report had originated, and whether he had been vile enough not only to carry on such a connexion, but to boast of it? de jarnac indignantly denied that he had ever said so, or given reason to the world to say so, and requested his father to accompany him to court, and confront him with his accuser, that he might see the manner in which he would confound him. they went accordingly, and the younger de jarnac, entering a room where the dauphin, la chataigneraie, and several courtiers were present, exclaimed aloud, "that whoever had asserted, that he maintained a criminal connexion with his mother-in-law, was a liar and a coward!" every eye was turned to the dauphin and la chataigneraie, when the latter stood forward, and asserted, that de jarnac had himself avowed that such was the fact, and he would extort from his lips another confession of it. a case like this could not be met or rebutted by any legal proof, and the royal council ordered that it should be decided by single combat. the king, however, set his face against the duel [although francis showed himself in this case an enemy to duelling, yet, in his own case, he had not the same objection. every reader of history must remember his answer to the challenge of the emperor charles v. the emperor wrote that he had failed in his word, and that he would sustain their quarrel single-handed against him. francis replied, that he lied--qu'il en avait menti par la gorge, and that he was ready to meet him in single combat whenever and wherever he pleased.] and forbade them both, under pain of his high displeasure, to proceed any further in the matter. but francis died in the following year, and the dauphin, now henry ii, who was himself compromised, resolved that the combat should take place. the lists were prepared in the court-yard of the chateau of st. germain-en-laye, and the th of july was appointed for the encounter. the cartels of the combatants, which are preserved in the "memoires de castelnau," were as follow:-- "cartel of francois de vivonne, lord of la chataigneraie. "sire, "having learned that guy chabot de jarnac, being lately at compeigne, asserted, that whoever had said that he boasted of having criminal intercourse with his mother-in-law, was wicked and a wretch,--i, sire, with your good-will and pleasure, do answer, that he has wickedly lied, and will lie as many times as he denies having said that which i affirm he did say; for i repeat, that he told me several times, and boasted of it, that he had slept with his mother-in-law. "francois de vivonne." to this cartel de jarnac replied:-- "sire, "with your good will and permission, i say, that francois de vivonne has lied in the imputation which he has cast upon me, and of which i spoke to you at compeigne. i, therefore, entreat you, sire, most humbly, that you be pleased to grant us a fair field, that we may fight this battle to the death. "guy chabot." the preparations were conducted on a scale of the greatest magnificence, the king having intimated his intention of being present. la chataigneraie made sure of the victory, and invited the king and a hundred and fifty of the principal personages of the court to sup with him in the evening, after the battle, in a splendid tent, which he had prepared at the extremity of the lists. de jarnac was not so confident, though perhaps more desperate. at noon, on the day appointed, the combatants met, and each took the customary oath, that he bore no charms or amulets about him, or made use of any magic, to aid him against his antagonist. they then attacked each other, sword in hand. la chataigneraie was a strong, robust man, and over confident; de jarnac was nimble, supple, and prepared for the worst. the combat lasted for some time doubtful, until de jarnac, overpowered by the heavy blows of his opponent, covered his head with his shield, and, stooping down, endeavoured to make amends by his agility for his deficiency of strength. in this crouching posture he aimed two blows at the left thigh of la chataigneraie, who had left it uncovered, that the motion of his leg might not be impeded. each blow was successful, and, amid the astonishment of all the spectators, and to the great regret of the king, la chataigneraie rolled over upon the sand. he seized his dagger, and made a last effort to strike de jarnac; but he was unable to support himself, and fell powerless into the arms of the assistants. the officers now interfered, and de jarnac being declared the victor, fell down upon his knees, uncovered his head, and, clasping his hands together, exclaimed:--"o domine, non sum dignus!" la chataigneraie was so mortified by the result of the encounter, that he resolutely refused to have his wounds dressed. he tore off the bandages which the surgeons applied, and expired two days afterwards. ever since that time, any sly and unforeseen attack has been called by the french a coup de jarnac. henry was so grieved at the loss of his favourite, that he made the solemn oath already alluded to, that he would never again, so long as he lived, permit a due]. some writers have asserted, and among others, mezeraie, that he issued a royal edict forbidding them. this has been doubted by others, and, as there appears no registry of the edict in any of the courts, it seems most probable that it was never issued. this opinion is strengthened by the fact, that two years afterwards, the council ordered another duel to be fought, with similar forms, but with less magnificence, on account of the inferior rank of the combatants. it is not anywhere stated, that henry interfered to prevent it, notwithstanding his solemn oath; but that, on the contrary, he encouraged it, and appointed the marshal de la marque to see that it was conducted according to the rules of chivalry. the disputants were fendille and d'aguerre, two gentlemen of the household, who, quarrelling in the king's chamber, had proceeded from words to blows. the council, being informed of the matter, decreed that it could only be decided in the lists. marshal de la marque, with the king's permission, appointed the city of sedan as the place of combat. fendille, who was a bad swordsman, was anxious to avoid an encounter with d'aguerre, who was one of the most expert men of the age; but the council authoritatively commanded that he should fight, or be degraded from all his honours. d'aguerre appeared in the field attended by francois de vendome, count de chartres, while fendille was accompanied by the duke de nevers. fendille appears to have been not only an inexpert swordsman, but a thorough coward; one who, like cowley, might have heaped curses on the man, "-------(death's factor sure), who brought dire swords into this peaceful world." on the very first encounter he was thrown from his horse, and, confessing on the ground all that his victor required of him, slunk away ignominiously from the arena. one is tempted to look upon the death of henry ii as a judgment upon him for his perjury in the matter of duelling. in a grand tournament instituted on the occasion of the marriage of his daughter, he broke several lances in encounters with some of the bravest knights of the time. ambitious of still further renown, he would not rest satisfied until he had also engaged the young count de montgomeri. he received a wound in the eye from the lance of this antagonist, and died from its effects shortly afterwards, in the forty-first year of his age. in the succeeding reigns of francis ii, charles ix, and henry iii, the practice of duelling increased to an alarming extent. duels were not rare in the other countries of europe at the same period; but in france they were so frequent, that historians, in speaking of that age, designate it as "l'epoque de la fureur des duels." the parliament of paris endeavoured, as far as in its power lay, to discourage the practice. by a decree dated the th of june , it declared all persons who should be present at duels, or aiding and abetting in them, to be rebels to the king, transgressors of the law, and disturbers of the public peace. when henry iii was assassinated at st. cloud, in , a young gentleman, named l'isle marivaut, who had been much beloved by him, took his death so much to heart, that he resolved not to survive him. not thinking suicide an honourable death, and wishing, as he said, to die gloriously in revenging his king and master, he publicly expressed his readiness to fight anybody to the death who should assert that henry's assassination was not a great misfortune to the community. another youth, of a fiery temper and tried courage, named marolles, took him at his word, and the day and place of the combat were forthwith appointed. when the hour had come, and all were ready, marolles turned to his second, and asked whether his opponent had a casque or helmet only, or whether he wore a sallade, or headpiece. being answered a helmet only, he said gaily, "so much the better; for, sir, my second, you shall repute me the wickedest man in all the world, if i do not thrust my lance right through the the middle of his head and kill him." truth to say, he did so at the very first onset, and the unhappy l'isle marivaut expired without a groan. brantome, who relates this story, adds, that the victor might have done as he pleased with the body, cut off the head, dragged it out of the camp, or exposed it upon an ass, but that, being a wise and very courteous gentleman, he left it to the relatives of the deceased to be honourably buried, contenting himself with the glory of his triumph, by which he gained no little renown and honour among the ladies of paris. on the accession of henry iv that monarch pretended to set his face against duelling; but such was the influence of early education and the prejudices of society upon him, that he never could find it in his heart to punish a man for this offence. he thought it tended to foster a warlike spirit among his people. when the chivalrous crequi demanded his permission to fight don philippe de savoire, he is reported to have said, "go, and if i were not a king, i would be your second." it is no wonder that when such were known to be the king's disposition, his edicts attracted but small attention. a calculation was made by m. de lomenie, in the year , that since the accession of henry, in , no less than four thousand french gentlemen had lost their lives in these conflicts, which, for the eighteen years, would have been at the rate of four or five in a week, or eighteen per month! sully, who reports this fact in his memoirs, does not throw the slightest doubt upon its exactness, and adds, that it was chiefly owing to the facility and ill-advised good-nature of his royal master that the bad example had so empoisoned the court, the city, and the whole country. this wise minister devoted much of his time and attention to the subject; for the rage, he says, was such as to cause him a thousand pangs, and the king also. there was hardly a man moving in what was called good society, who had not been engaged in a duel either as principal or second; and if there were such a man, his chief desire was to free himself from the imputation of non-duelling, by picking a quarrel with somebody. sully constantly wrote letters to the king, in which he prayed him to renew the edicts against this barbarous custom, to aggravate the punishment against offenders, and never, in any instance, to grant a pardon, even to a person who had wounded another in a duel, much less to any one who had taken away life. he also advised, that some sort of tribunal, or court of honour, should be established, to take cognizance of injurious and slanderous language, and of all such matters as usually led to duels; and that the justice to be administered by this court should be sufficiently prompt and severe to appease the complainant, and make the offender repent of his aggression. henry, being so warmly pressed by his friend and minister, called together an extraordinary council in the gallery of the palace of fontainebleau, to take the matter into consideration. when all the members were assembled, his majesty requested that some person conversant with the subject would make a report to him on the origin, progress, and different forms of the duel. sully complacently remarks, that none of the counsllors gave the king any great reason to felicitate them on their erudition. in fact, they all remained silent. sully held his peace with the rest; but he looked so knowing, that the king turned towards him, and said:--"great master! by your face i conjecture that you know more of this matter than you would have us believe. i pray you, and indeed i command, that you tell us what you think and what you know." the coy minister refused, as he says, out of mere politeness to his more ignorant colleagues; but, being again pressed by the king, he entered into a history of duelling both in ancient and modern times. he has not preserved this history in his memoirs; and, as none of the ministers or counsellors present thought proper to do so, the world is deprived of a discourse which was, no doubt, a learned and remarkable one. the result was, that a royal edict was issued, which sully lost no time in transmitting to the most distant provinces, with a distinct notification to all parties concerned that the king was in earnest, and would exert the full rigour of the law in punishment of the offenders. sully himself does not inform us what were the provisions of the new law; but father matthias has been more explicit, and from him we learn, that the marshals of france were created judges of a court of chivalry, for the hearing of all causes wherein the honour of a noble or gentleman was concerned, and that such as resorted to duelling should be punished by death and confiscation of property, and that the seconds and assistants should lose their rank, dignity, or offices, and be banished from the court of their sovereign. [le pere matthias, tome ii. livre iv.] but so strong a hold had the education and prejudice of his age upon the mind of the king, that though his reason condemned, his sympathies approved the duel. notwithstanding this threatened severity, the number of duels did not diminish, and the wise sully had still to lament the prevalence of an evil which menaced society with utter disorganization. in the succeeding reign the practice prevailed, if possible, to a still greater extent, until the cardinal de richelieu, better able to grapple with it than sully had been, made some severe examples in the very highest classes. lord herbert, the english ambassador at the court of louis xiii repeats, in his letters, an observation that had been previously made in the reign of henry iv, that it was rare to find a frenchman moving in good society who had not killed his man in a duel. the abbe millot says of this period, that the duel madness made the most terrible ravages. men had actually a frenzy for combatting. caprice and vanity, as well as the excitement of passion, imposed the necessity of fighting. friends were obliged to enter into the quarrels of their friends, or be themselves called out for their refusal, and revenge became hereditary in many families. it was reckoned that in twenty years eight thousand letters of pardon had been issued to persons who had killed others in single combat. ["elemens de l'histoire de france, vol. iii. p. .] other writers confirm this statement. amelot de houssaye, in his memoirs, says, upon this subject, that duels were so common in the first years of the reign of louis xiii, that the ordinary conversation of persons when they met in the morning was, "do you know who fought yesterday?" and after dinner, "do you know who fought this morning?" the most infamous duellist at that period was de bouteville. it was not at all necessary to quarrel with this assassin to be forced to fight a duel with him. when he heard that any one was very brave, he would go to him, and say, "people tell me that you are brave; you and i must fight together!" every morning the most notorious bravos and duellists used to assemble at his house, to take a breakfast of bread and wine, and practise fencing. m. de valencay, who was afterwards elevated to the rank of a cardinal, ranked very high in the estimation of de bouteville and his gang. hardly a day passed but what he was engaged in some duel or other, either as principal or second; and he once challenged de bouteville himself, his best friend, because de bouteville had fought a duel without inviting him to become his second. this quarrel was only appeased on the promise of de bouteville that, in his next encounter, he would not fail to avail himself of his services. for that purpose he went out the same day, and picked a quarrel with the marquis des portes. m. de valencay, according to agreement, had the pleasure of serving as his second, and of running through the body m. de cavois, the second of the marquis des portes, a man who had never done him any injury, and whom he afterwards acknowledged he had never seen before. cardinal richelieu devoted much attention to this lamentable state of public morals, and seems to have concurred with his great predecessor, sully, that nothing but the most rigorous severity could put a stop to the evil. the subject indeed was painfully forced upon him by his enemies. the marquis de themines, to whom richelieu, then bishop of lucon, had given offence by some representations he had made to mary of medicis, determined, since he could not challenge an ecclesiastic, to challenge his brother. an opportunity was soon found. themines, accosting the marquis de richelieu, complained, in an insulting tone, that the bishop of lucon had broken his faith. the marquis resented both the manner and matter of his speech, and readily accepted a challenge. they met in the rue d'angouleme, and the unfortunate richelieu was stabbed to the heart, and instantly expired. from that moment the bishop became the steady foe of the practice of duelling. reason and the impulse of brotherly love alike combined to make him detest it, and when his power in france was firmly established, he set vigorously about repressing it. in his "testament politique," he has collected his thoughts upon the subject, in the chapter entitled "des moyens d'arreter les duels." in spite of the edicts that he published, the members of the nobility persisted in fighting upon the most trivial and absurd pretences. at last richelieu made a terrible example. the infamous de bouteville challenged and fought the marquis de beuoron; and, although the duel itself was not fatal to either, its consequences were fatal to both. high as they were, richelieu resolved that the law should reach them, and they were both tried, found guilty, and beheaded. thus did society get rid of one of the most bloodthirsty scoundrels that ever polluted it. in two noblemen fought a duel, in which they were both killed. the officers of justice had notice of the breach of the law, and arrived at the scene of combat before the friends of the parties had time to remove the bodies. in conformity with the cardinal's severe code upon the subject, the bodies were ignominiously stripped, and hanged upon a gallows, with their heads downwards, for several hours, within sight of all the people. [mercure de france, vol. xiii.] this severity sobered the frenzy of the nation for a time; but it was soon forgotten. men's minds were too deeply imbued with a false notion of honour to be brought to a right way of thinking: by such examples, however striking, richelieu was unable to persuade them to walk in the right path, though he could punish them for choosing the wrong one. he had, with all his acuteness, miscalculated the spirit of duelling. it was not death that a duellist feared: it was shame, and the contempt of his fellows. as addison remarked more than eighty years afterwards, "death was not sufficient to deter men who made it their glory to despise it; but if every one who fought a duel were to stand in the pillory, it would quickly diminish the number of those imaginary men of honour, and put an end to so absurd a practice." richelieu never thought of this. sully says, that in his time the germans were also much addicted to duelling. there were three places where it was legal to fight; witzburg, in franconia, and uspach and halle, in swabia. thither, of course, vast numbers repaired, and murdered each other under sanction of the law. at an earlier period, in germany, it was held highly disgraceful to refuse to fight. any one who surrendered to his adversary for a simple wound that did not disable him, was reputed infamous, and could neither cut his beard, bear arms, mount on horseback, or hold any office in the state. he who fell in a duel was buried with great pomp and splendour. in the year , just after louis xiv had attained his majority, a desperate duel was fought between the dukes de beaufort and de nemours, each attended by four gentlemen. although brothers-in-law, they had long been enemies, and their constant dissensions had introduced much disorganization among the troops which they severally commanded. each had long sought an opportunity for combat, which at last arose on a misunderstanding relative to the places they were to occupy at the council board. they fought with pistols, and, at the first discharge, the duke de nemours was shot through the body, and almost instantly expired. upon this the marquis de villars, who seconded nemours, challenged hericourt, the second of the duke de beaufort, a man whom he had never before seen; and the challenge being accepted, they fought even more desperately than their principals. this combat, being with swords, lasted longer than the first, and was more exciting to the six remaining gentlemen who stayed to witness it. the result was fatal to hericourt, who fell pierced to the heart by the sword of de villars. anything more savage than this can hardly be imagined. voltaire says such duels were frequent, and the compiler of the "dictionnaire d'anecdotes" informs us, that the number of seconds was not fixed. as many as ten, or twelve, or twenty, were not unfrequent, and they often fought together after their principals were disabled. the highest mark of friendship one man could manifest towards another, was to choose him for his second; and many gentlemen were so desirous of serving in this capacity, that they endeavoured to raise every slight misunderstanding into a quarrel, that they might have the pleasure of being engaged in it. the count de bussy rabutin relates an instance of this in his memoirs. he says, that as he was one evening coming out of the theatre, a gentleman, named bruc, whom he had not before known, stopped him very politely, and, drawing him aside, asked him if it was true that the count de thianges had called him (bruc) a drunkard? bussy replied, that he really did not know, for he saw the count very seldom. "oh! he is your uncle!" replied bruc; "and, as i cannot have satisfaction from him, because he lives so far off in the country, i apply to you." "i see what you are at," replied bussy, "and, since you wish to put me in my uncle's place, i answer, that whoever asserted that he called you a drunkard, told a lie!" "my brother said so," replied bruc, "and he is a child." "horsewhip him, then, for his falsehood," returned de bussy. "i will not have my brother called a liar," returned bruc, determined to quarrel with him; "so draw, and defend yourself!" they both drew their swords in the public street, but were separated by the spectators. they agreed, however, to fight on a future occasion, and with all regular forms of the duello. a few days afterwards, a gentleman, whom de bussy had never before seen, and whom he did not know, even by name, called upon him, and asked if he might have the privilege of serving as his second. he added, that he neither knew him nor bruc, except by reputation, but, having made up his mind to be second to one of them, he had decided upon accompanying de bussy as the braver man of the two. de bussy thanked him very sincerely for his politeness, but begged to be excused, as he had already engaged four seconds to accompany him, and he was afraid that if he took any more, the affair would become a battle instead of a duel. when such quarrels as these were looked upon as mere matters of course, the state of society must have been indeed awful. louis xiv very early saw the evil, and as early determined to remedy it. it was not, however, till the year , when he instituted the "chambre ardente," for the trial of the slow poisoners and pretenders to sorcery, that he published any edict against duelling. in that year his famous edict was promulgated, in which he reiterated and confirmed the severe enactments of his predecessors, henry iv and louis xiii, and expressed his determination never to pardon any offender. by this celebrated ordinance a supreme court of honour was established, composed of the marshals of france. they were bound, on taking the office, to give to every one who brought a well-founded complaint before them, such reparation as would satisfy the justice of the case. should any gentleman against whom complaint was made refuse to obey the mandate of the court of honour, he might be punished by fine and imprisonment; and when that was not possible, by reason of his absenting himself from the kingdom, his estates might be confiscated till his return. every man who sent a challenge, be the cause of offence what it might, was deprived of all redress from the court of honour--suspended three years from the exercise of any office in the state--was further imprisoned for two years, and sentenced to pay a fine of half his yearly income. he who accepted a challenge, was subject to the same punishment. any servant, or other person, who knowingly became the bearer of a challenge, was, if found guilty, sentenced to stand in the pillory and be publicly whipped for the first offence, and for the second, sent for three years to the galleys. any person who actually fought, was to be held guilty of murder, even though death did not ensue, and was to be punished accordingly. persons in the higher ranks of life were to be beheaded, and those of the middle class hanged upon a gallows, and their bodies refused christian burial. at the same time that louis published this severe edict, he exacted a promise from his principal nobility that they would never engage in a duel on any pretence whatever. he never swerved from his resolution to pursue all duellists with the utmost rigour, and many were executed in various parts of the country. a slight abatement of the evil was the consequence, and in the course of a few years one duel was not fought where twelve had been fought previously. a medal was struck to commemorate the circumstance, by the express command of the king. so much had he this object at heart, that, in his will, he particularly recommended to his successor the care of his edict against duelling, and warned him against any ill-judged lenity to those who disobeyed it. a singular law formerly existed in malta with regard to duelling. by this law it was permitted, but only upon condition that the parties should fight in one particular street. if they presumed to settle their quarrel elsewhere, they were held guilty of murder, and punished accordingly. what was also very singular, they were bound, under heavy penalties, to put up their swords when requested to do so by a priest, a knight, or a woman. it does not appear, however, that the ladies or the knights exercised this mild and beneficent privilege to any great extent; the former were too often themselves the cause of duels, and the latter sympathised too much in the wounded honour of the combatants to attempt to separate them. the priests alone were the great peacemakers. brydone says, that a cross was always painted on the wall opposite to the spot where a knight had been killed, and that in the "street of duels" he counted about twenty of them. [brydone's "tour in malta." .] in england the private duel was also practised to a scandalous extent, towards the end of the sixteenth and beginning of the seventeenth centuries. the judicial combat now began to be more rare, but several instances of it are mentioned in history. one was instituted in the reign of elizabeth, and another so late as the time of charles i. sir henry spelman gives an account of that which took place in elizabeth's reign, which is curious, perhaps the more so when we consider that it was perfectly legal, and that similar combats remained so till the year . a proceeding having been instituted in the court of common pleas for the recovery of certain manorial rights in the county of kent, the defendant offered to prove by single combat his right to retain possession. the plaintiff accepted the challenge, and the court having no power to stay the proceedings, agreed to the champions who were to fight in lieu of the principals. the queen commanded the parties to compromise; but it being represented to her majesty that they were justified by law in the course they were pursuing, she allowed them to proceed. on the day appointed, the justices of the common pleas, and all the council engaged in the cause, appeared as umpires of the combat, at a place in tothill-fields, where the lists had been prepared. the champions were ready for the encounter, and the plaintiff and defendant were publicly called to come forward and acknowledge them. the defendant answered to his name, and recognised his champion with the due formalities, but the plaintiff did not appear. without his presence and authority the combat could not take place; and his absence being considered an abandonment of his claim, he was declared to be nonsuited, and barred for ever from renewing his suit before any other tribunal whatever. the queen appears to have disapproved personally of this mode of settling a disputed claim, but her judges and legal advisers made no attempt to alter the barbarous law. the practice of private duelling excited more indignation, from its being of every-day occurrence. in the time of james i the english were so infected with the french madness, that bacon, when he was attorney-general, lent the aid of his powerful eloquence to effect a reformation of the evil. informations were exhibited in the star chamber against two persons, named priest and wright, for being engaged, as principal and second, in a duel, on which occasion he delivered a charge that was so highly approved of by the lords of the council, that they ordered it to be printed and circulated over the country, as a thing "very meet and worthy to be remembered and made known unto the world." he began by considering the nature and greatness of the mischief of duelling. "it troubleth peace--it disfurnisheth war--it bringeth calamity upon private men, peril upon the state, and contempt upon the law. touching the causes of it," he observed, "that the first motive of it, no doubt, is a false and erroneous imagination of honour and credit; but then, the seed of this mischief being such, it is nourished by vain discourses and green and unripe conceits. hereunto may be added, that men have almost lost the true notion and understanding of fortitude and valour. for fortitude distinguisheth of the grounds of quarrel whether they be just; and not only so, but whether they be worthy, and setteth a better price upon men's lives than to bestow them idly. nay, it is weakness and disesteem of a man's self to put a man's life upon such liedger performances. a man's life is not to be trifled with: it is to be offered up and sacrificed to honourable services, public merits, good causes, and noble adventures. it is in expense of blood as it is in expense of money. it is no liberality to make a profusion of money upon every vain occasion, neither is it fortitude to make effusion of blood, except the cause of it be worth." [see "life and character of lord bacon," by thomas martin, barrister-at-law.] the most remarkable event connected with duelling in this reign was that between lord sanquir, a scotch nobleman, and one turner, a fencing-master. in a trial of skill between them, his lordship's eye was accidentally thrust out by the point of turner's sword. turner expressed great regret at the circumstance, and lord sanquir bore his loss with as much philosophy as he was master of, and forgave his antagonist. three years afterwards, lord sanquir was at paris, where he was a constant visitor at the court of henry iv. one day, in the course of conversation, the affable monarch inquired how he had lost his eye. sanquir, who prided himself on being the most expert swordsman of the age, blushed as he replied that it was inflicted by the sword of a fencing-master. henry, forgetting his assumed character of an antiduellist, carelessly, and as a mere matter of course, inquired whether the man lived? nothing more was said, but the query sank deep into the proud heart of the scotch baron, who returned shortly afterwards to england, burning for revenge. his first intent was to challenge the fencing-master to single combat, but, on further consideration, he deemed it inconsistent with his dignity to meet him as an equal in fair and open fight. he therefore hired two bravos, who set upon the fencing-master, and murdered him in his own house at whitefriars. the assassins were taken and executed, and a reward of one thousand pounds offered for the apprehension of their employer. lord sanquir concealed himself for several days, and then surrendered to take his trial, in the hope (happily false) that justice would belie her name, and be lenient to a murderer because he was a nobleman, who, on a false point of honour, had thought fit to take revenge into his own hands. the most powerful intercessions were employed in his favour, but james, to his credit, was deaf to them all. bacon, in his character of attorney-general, prosecuted the prisoner to conviction; and he died the felon's death, on the th of june, , on a gibbet erected in front of the gate of westminster hall. with regard to the public duel, or trial by battle, demanded under the sanction of the law, to terminate a quarrel which the ordinary course of justice could with difficulty decide, bacon was equally opposed to it, and thought that in no case should it be granted. he suggested that there should be declared a constant and settled resolution in the state to abolish it altogether; that care should be taken that the evil be no more cockered, nor the humour of it fed, but that all persons found guilty should be rigorously punished by the star chamber, and these of eminent quality banished from the court. in the succeeding reign, when donald mackay, the first lord reay, accused david ramsay of treason, in being concerned with the marquis of hamilton in a design upon the crown of scotland, he was challenged by the latter to make good his assertion by single combat. [see "history of the house and clan of mackay."] it had been at first the intention of the government to try the case by the common law, but ramsay thought he would stand a better chance of escape by recurring to the old and almost exploded custom, but which was still the right of every man in appeals of treason. lord reay readily accepted the challenge, and both were confined in the tower until they found security that they would appear on a certain day, appointed by the court, to determine the question. the management of the affair was delegated to the marischal court of westminster, and the earl of lindsay was created lord constable of england for the purpose. shortly before the day appointed, ramsay confessed in substance all that lord reay had laid to his charge, upon which charles i put a stop to the proceedings. but in england, about this period, sterner disputes arose among men than those mere individual matters which generate duels. the men of the commonwealth encouraged no practice of the kind, and the subdued aristocracy carried their habits and prejudices elsewhere, and fought their duels at foreign courts. cromwell's parliament, however,--although the evil at that time was not so crying,--published an order, in , for the prevention of duels, and the punishment of all con cerned in them. charles ii, on his restoration, also issued a proclamation upon the subject. in his reign an infamous duel was fought--infamous, not only from its own circumstances, but from the lenity that was shown to the principal offenders. the worthless duke of buckingham, having debauched the countess of shrewsbury, was challenged by her husband to mortal combat, in january . charles ii endeavoured to prevent the duel, not from any regard to public morality, but from fear for the life of his favourite. he gave commands to the duke of albemarle to confine buckingham to his house, or take some other measures to prevent him flora fighting. albemarle neglected the order, thinking that the king himself might prevent the combat by some surer means. the meeting took place at barn elms, the injured shrewsbury being attended by sir john talbot, his relative, and lord bernard howard, son of the earl of arundel. buckingham was accompanied by two of his dependants, captain holmes and sir john jenkins. according to the barbarous custom of the age, not only the principals, but the seconds, engaged each other. jenkins was pierced to the heart, and left dead upon the field, and sir john talbot severely wounded in both arms. buckingham himself escaping with slight wounds, ran his unfortunate antagonist through the body, and then left the field with the wretched woman, the cause of all the mischief, who, in the dress of a page, awaited the issue of the conflict in a neighbouring wood, holding her paramour's horse to avoid suspicion. great influence was exerted to save the guilty parties from punishment, and the master, as base as the favourite, made little difficulty in granting a free pardon to all concerned. in a royal proclamation issued shortly afterwards, charles ii formally pardoned the murderers, but declared his intention never to extend, in future, any mercy to such offenders. it would be hard after this to say who was the most infamous, the king, the favourite, or the courtezan. in the reign of queen anne, repeated complaints were made of the prevalence of duelling. addison, swift, steele, and other writers, employed their powerful pens in reprobation of it. steele especially, in the "tatler" and "guardian," exposed its impiety and absurdity, and endeavoured, both by argument and by ridicule, to bring his countrymen to a right way of thinking. [see "spectator," nos. . , and ; and "tatler," nos. , , , , , and ; and "guardian," no. .] his comedy of "the conscious lovers" contains an admirable exposure of the abuse of the word honour, which led men into an error so lamentable. swift, writing upon the subject, remarked that he could see no harm in rogues and fools shooting each other. addison and steele took higher ground, and the latter, in the "guardian," summed up nearly all that could be said upon the subject in the following impressive words:--"a christian and a gentleman are made inconsistent appellations of the same person. you are not to expect eternal life if you do not forgive injuries, and your mortal life is rendered uncomfortable if you are not ready to commit a murder in resentment of an affront; for good sense, as well as religion, is so utterly banished the world that men glory in their very passions, and pursue trifles with the utmost vengeance, so little do they know that to forgive is the most arduous pitch human nature can arrive at. a coward has often fought--a coward has often conquered, but a coward never forgave." steele also published a pamphlet, in which he gave a detailed account of the edict of louis xiv, and the measures taken by that monarch to cure his subjects of their murderous folly. on the th of may, , sir cholmely deering, m.p. for the county of kent, was slain in a duel by mr. richard thornhill, also a member of the house of commons. three days afterwards, sir peter king brought the subject under the notice of the legislature, and after dwelling at considerable length on the alarming increase of the practice, obtained leave to bring in a bill for the prevention and punishment of duelling. it was read a first time that day, and ordered for a second reading in the ensuing week. about the same time the attention of the upper house of parliament was also drawn to the subject in the most painful manner. two of its most noted members would have fought, had it not been that queen anne received notice of their intention, and exacted a pledge that they would desist; while a few months afterwards, two other of its members lost their lives in one of the most remarkable duels upon record. the first affair, which happily terminated without a meeting, was between the duke of marlborough and the earl pawlet. the latter, and fatal encounter, was between the duke of hamilton and lord mohun. the first arose out of a debate in the lords upon the conduct of the duke of ormond, in refusing to hazard a general engagement with the enemy, in which earl pawlet remarked that nobody could doubt the courage of the duke of ormond. "he was not like a certain general, who led troops to the slaughter, to cause great numbers of officers to be knocked on the head in a battle, or against stone walls, in order to fill his pockets by disposing of their commissions." every one felt that the remark was aimed at the duke of marlborough, but he remained silent, though evidently suffering in mind. soon after the house broke up, the earl pawlet received a visit from lord mohun, who told him that the duke of marlborough was anxious to come to an explanation with him relative to some expressions he had made use of in that day's debate, and therefore prayed him to "go and take a little air in the country." earl pawlet did not affect to misunderstand the hint, but asked him in plain terms whether he brought a challenge from the duke. lord mohun said his message needed no explanation, and that he (lord mohun) would accompany the duke of marlborough. he then took his leave, and earl pawlet returned home and told his lady that he was going out to fight a duel with the duke of marlborough. his lady, alarmed for her lord's safety, gave notice of his intention to the earl of dartmouth, who immediately, in the queen's name, sent to the duke of marlborough, and commanded him not to stir abroad. he also caused earl pawlet's house to be guarded by two sentinels; and having taken these precautions, informed the queen of the whole affair. her majesty sent at once for the duke, expressed her abhorrence of the custom of duelling, and required his word of honour that he would proceed no further. the duke pledged his word accordingly, and the affair terminated. the lamentable duel between the duke of hamilton and lord mohun took place in november , and sprang from the following circumstances. a lawsuit had been pending for eleven years between these two noblemen, and they looked upon each other in consequence with a certain degree of coldness. they met together on the th of november in the chambers of mr. orlebar, a master in chancery, when, in the course of conversation, the duke of hamilton reflected upon the conduct of one of the witnesses in the cause, saying that he was a person who had neither truth nor justice in him. lord mohun, somewhat nettled at this remark, applied to a witness favourable to his side, made answer hastily, that mr. whiteworth, the person alluded to, had quite as much truth and justice in him as the duke of hamilton. the duke made no reply, and no one present imagined that he took offence at what was said; and when he went out, of the room, he made a low and courteous salute to the lord mohun. in the evening, general macartney called twice upon the duke with a challenge from lord mohun, and failing in seeing him, sought him a third time at a tavern, where he found him, and delivered his message. the duke accepted the challenge, and the day after the morrow, which was sunday, the th of november, at seven in the morning, was appointed for the meeting. at that hour they assembled in hyde park, the duke being attended by his relative, colonel hamilton, and the lord mohun by general macartney. they jumped over a ditch into a place called the nursery, and prepared for the combat. the duke of hamilton, turning to general macartney, said, "sir, you are the cause of this, let the event be what it will." lord mohun did not wish that the seconds should engage, but the duke insisted that "macartney should have a share in the dance." all being ready, the two principals took up their positions, and fought with swords so desperately that, after a short time, they both fell down, mortally wounded. the lord mohun expired upon the spot, and the duke of hamilton in the arms of his servants as they were carrying him to his coach. this unhappy termination caused the greatest excitement, not only in the metropolis, but all over the country. the tories, grieved at the loss of the duke of hamilton, charged the fatal combat on the whig party, whose leader, the duke of marlborough, had so recently set the example of political duels. they called lord mohun the bully of the whig faction, (he had already killed three men in duels, and been twice tried for murder), and asserted openly, that the quarrel was concocted between him and general macartney to rob the country of the services of the duke of hamilton by murdering him. it was also asserted, that the wound of which the duke died was not inflicted by lord mohun, but by macartney; and every means was used to propagate this belief. colonel hamilton, against whom and macartney the coroner's jury had returned a verdict of wilful murder, surrendered a few days afterwards, and was examined before a privy council sitting at the house of lord dartmouth. he then deposed, that seeing lord mohun fall, and the duke upon him, he ran to the duke's assistance, and that he might with the more ease help him, he flung down both their swords, and, as he was raising the duke up, he saw macartney, make a push at him. upon this deposition a royal proclamation was immediately issued, offering a reward of pounds for the apprehension of macartney, to which the duchess of hamilton afterwards added a reward of pounds. upon the further examination of colonel hamilton, it was found that reliance could not be placed on all his statements, and that he contradicted himself in several important particulars. he was arraigned at the old bailey for the murder of lord mohun, the whole political circles of london being in a fever of excitement for the result. all the tory party prayed for his acquittal, and a tory mob surrounded the doors and all the avenues leading to the court of justice for many hours before the trial began. the examination of witnesses lasted seven hours. the criminal still persisted in accusing general macartney of the murder of the duke of hamilton, but, in other respects, say the newspapers of the day, prevaricated foully. he was found guilty of manslaughter. this favourable verdict was received with universal applause, "not only from the court and all the gentlemen present, but the common people showed a mighty satisfaction, which they testified by loud and repeated huzzas." ["post boy," december l th, .] as the popular delirium subsided, and men began to reason coolly upon the subject, they disbelieved the assertions of colonel hamilton, that macartney had stabbed the duke, although it was universally admitted that he had been much too busy and presuming. hamilton was shunned by all his former companions, and his life rendered so irksome to him, that he sold out of the guards, and retired to private life, in which he died heart-broken four years afterwards. general macartney surrendered about the same time, and was tried for murder in the court of king's bench. he was, however, found guilty of manslaughter only. at the opening of the session of parliament of , the queen made pointed allusion in her speech to the frequency of duelling, and recommended to the legislature to devise some speedy and effectual remedy for it. a bill to that effect was brought forward, but thrown out on the second reading, to the very great regret of all the sensible portion of the community. a famous duel was fought in between lord byron and mr. chaworth. the dispute arose at a club-dinner, and was relative to which of the two had the largest quantity of game on his estates. infuriated by wine and passion, they retired instantly into an adjoining room, and fought with swords across a table, by the feeble glimmer of a tallow-candle. mr. chaworth, who was the more expert swordsman of the two, received a mortal wound, and shortly afterwards expired. lord byron was brought to trial for the murder before the house of lords; and it appearing clearly, that the duel was not premeditated, but fought at once, and in the heat of passion, he was found guilty of manslaughter only, and ordered to be discharged upon payment of his fees. this was a very bad example for the country, and duelling of course fell into no disrepute after such a verdict. in france, more severity was exercised. in the year , the parliament of grenoble took cognizance of the delinquency of the sieur duchelas, one of its members, who challenged and killed in a duel a captain of the flemish legion. the servant of duchelas officiated as second, and was arraigned with his master for the murder of the captain. they were both found guilty. duchelas was broken alive on the wheel, and the servant condemned to the galleys for life. a barbarous and fiercely-contested duel was fought in november , between two foreign adventurers, at bath, named count rice and the vicomte du barri. some dispute arose relative to a gambling transaction, in the course of which du barri contradicted an assertion of the other, by saying, "that is not true!" count rice immediately asked him if he knew the very disagreeable meaning of the words he had employed. du barri said he was perfectly well aware of their meaning, and that rice might interpret them just as he pleased. a challenge was immediately given and accepted. seconds were sent for, who, arriving with but little delay, the whole party, though it was not long after midnight, proceeded to a place called claverton down, where they remained with a surgeon until daylight. they then prepared for the encounter, each being armed with two pistols and a sword. the ground having been marked out by the seconds, du barri fired first, and wounded his opponent in the thigh. count rice then levelled his pistol, and shot du barri mortally in the breast. so angry were the combatants, that they refused to desist; both stepped back a few paces, and then rushing forward, discharged their second pistols at each other. neither shot took effect, and both throwing away their pistols, prepared to finish the sanguinary struggle by the sword. they took their places, and were advancing towards each other, when the vicomte du barri suddenly staggered, grew pale, and, falling to the ground, exclaimed, "je vous demande ma vie." his opponent had but just time to answer, that he granted it, when the unfortunate du barri turned upon the grass, and expired with a heavy groan. the survivor of this savage conflict was then removed to his lodgings, where he lay for some weeks in a dangerous state. the coroner's jury, in the mean while, sat upon the body of du barri, and disgraced themselves by returning a verdict of manslaughter only. count rice, upon his recovery, was indicted for the murder notwithstanding this verdict. on his trial he entered into a long defence of his conduct, pleading the fairness of the duel, and its unpremeditated nature; and, at the same time, expressing his deep regret for the unfortunate death of du barri, with whom for many years he had been bound in ties of the strictest friendship. these considerations appear to have weighed with the jury, and this fierce duellist was again found guilty of manslaughter only, and escaped with a merely nominal punishment. a duel, less remarkable from its circumstances, but more so from the rank of the parties, took place in . the combatants on this occasion were the duke of york and colonel lenox, the nephew and heir of the duke of richmond. the cause of offence was given by the duke of york, who had said, in presence of several officers of the guards, that words had been used to colonel lenox at daubigny's to which no gentleman ought to have submitted. colonel lenox went up to the duke on parade, and asked him publicly whether he had made such an assertion. the duke of york, without answering his question, coldly ordered him to his post. when parade was over, he took an opportunity of saying publicly in the orderly room before colonel lenox, that he desired no protection from his rank as a prince and his station as commanding officer; adding that, when he was off duty, he wore a plain brown coat like a private gentleman, and was ready as such to give satisfaction. colonel lenox desired nothing better than satisfaction; that is to say, to run the chance of shooting the duke through the body, or being himself shot. he accordingly challenged his royal highness, and they met on wimbledon common. colonel lenox fired first, and the ball whizzed past the head of his opponent, so near to it as to graze his projecting curl. the duke refused to return the fire, and the seconds interfering, the affair terminated. colonel lenox was very shortly afterwards engaged in another duel arising out of this. a mr. swift wrote a pamphlet in reference to the dispute between him and the duke of york, at some expressions in which he took so much offence, as to imagine that nothing but a shot at the writer could atone for them. they met on the uxbridge road, but no damage was done to either party. the irish were for a long time renowned for their love of duelling. the slightest offence which it is possible to imagine that one man could offer to another, was sufficient to provoke a challenge. sir jonah barrington relates, in his memoirs, that, previous to the union, during the time of a disputed election in dublin, it was no unusual thing for three-and-twenty duels to be fought in a day. even in times of less excitement, they were so common as to be deemed unworthy of note by the regular chroniclers of events, except in cases where one or both of the combatants were killed. in those days, in ireland, it was not only the man of the military, but of every profession, who had to work his way to eminence with the sword or the pistol. each political party had its regular corps of bullies, or fire-eaters, as they were called, who qualified themselves for being the pests of society by spending all their spare time in firing at targets. they boasted that they could hit an opponent in any part of his body they pleased, and made up their minds before the encounter began whether they should kill him, disable, or disfigure him for life--lay him on a bed of suffering for a twelve-month, or merely graze a limb. the evil had reached an alarming height, when, in the year , an opportunity was afforded to king george iii of showing in a striking manner his detestation of the practice, and of setting an example to the irish that such murders were not to be committed with impunity. a dispute arose, in the month of june , between major campbell and captain boyd, officers of the st regiment, stationed in ireland, about the proper manner of giving the word of command on parade. hot words ensued on this slight occasion, and the result was a challenge from campbell to boyd. they retired into the mess-room shortly afterwards, and each stationed himself at a corner, the distance obliquely being but seven paces. here, without friends or seconds being present, they fired at each other, and captain boyd fell mortally wounded between the fourth and fifth ribs. a surgeon who came in shortly, found him sitting in a chair, vomiting and suffering great agony. he was led into another room, major campbell following, in great distress and perturbation of mind. boyd survived but eighteen hours; and just before his death, said, in reply to a question from his opponent, that the duel was not fair, and added, "you hurried me, campbell--you're a bad man."----"good god!" replied campbell, "will you mention before these gentlemen, was not everything fair? did you not say that you were ready?" boyd answered faintly, "oh, no! you know i wanted you to wait and have friends." on being again asked whether all was fair, the dying man faintly murmured "yes:" but in a minute after, he said, "you're a bad man!" campbell was now in great agitation, and wringing his hands convulsively, he exclaimed, "oh, boyd! you are the happiest man of the two! do you forgive me?" boyd replied, "i forgive you--i feel for you, as i know you do for me." he shortly afterwards expired, and major campbell made his escape from ireland, and lived for some months with his family under an assumed name, in the neighbourhood of chelsea. he was, however, apprehended, and brought to trial at armagh, in august . he said while in prison, that, if found guilty of murder, he should suffer as an example to duellists in ireland; but he endeavoured to buoy himself up, with the hope that the jury would only convict him of manslaughter. it was proved in evidence upon the trial, that the duel was not fought immediately after the offence was given, but that major campbell went home and drank tea with his family, before he sought boyd for the fatal encounter. the jury returned a verdict of wilful murder against him, but recommended him to mercy on the ground that the duel had been a fair one. he was condemned to die on the monday following, but was afterwards respited for a few days longer. in the mean time the greatest exertions were made in his behalf. his unfortunate wife went upon her knees before the prince of wales, to move him to use his influence with the king, in favour of her unhappy husband. everything a fond wife and a courageous woman could do, she tried, to gain the royal clemency; but george iii was inflexible, in consequence of the representations of the irish viceroy that an example was necessary. the law was therefore allowed to take its course, and the victim of a false spirit of honour died the death of a felon. the most inveterate duellists of the present day are the students in the universities of germany. they fight on the most frivolous pretences, and settle with swords and pistols the schoolboy disputes which in other countries are arranged by the more harmless medium of the fisticuffs. it was at one time the custom among these savage youths to prefer the sword combat, for the facility it gave them of cutting off the noses of their opponents. to disfigure them in this manner was an object of ambition, and the german duellists reckoned the number of these disgusting trophies which they had borne away, with as much satisfaction as a successful general the provinces he had reduced or the cities he had taken. but it would be wearisome to enter into the minute detail of all the duels of modern times. if an examination were made into the general causes which produced them, it would be found that in every case they had been either of the most trivial or the most unworthy nature. parliamentary duels were at one time very common, and amongst the names of those who have soiled a great reputation by conforming to the practice, may be mentioned those of warren hastings, sir philip francis, wilkes, pitt, fox, grattan, curran, tierney, and canning. so difficult is it even for the superior mind to free itself from the trammels with which foolish opinion has enswathed it--not one of these celebrated persons who did not in his secret soul condemn the folly to which he lent himself. the bonds of reason, though iron-strong, are easily burst through; but those of folly, though lithe and frail as the rushes by a stream, defy the stoutest heart to snap them asunder. colonel thomas, an officer of the guards, who was killed in a duel, added the following clause to his will the night before he died:--"in the first place, i commit my soul to almighty god, in hope of his mercy and pardon for the irreligious step i now (in compliance with the unwarrantable customs of this wicked world) put myself under the necessity of taking." how many have been in the same state of mind as this wise, foolish man! he knew his error, and abhorred it, but could not resist it, for fear of the opinion of the prejudiced and unthinking. no other could have blamed him for refusing to fight a duel. the list of duels that have sprung from the most degrading causes might be stretched out to an almost indefinite extent. sterne's father fought a duel about a goose; and the great raleigh about a tavern bill. [raleigh, at one period of his life, appeared to be an inveterate duellist, and it was said of him that he had been engaged in more encounters of the kind than any man of note among his contemporaries. more than one fellow-creature he had deprived of life; but he lived long enough to be convinced of the sinfulness of his conduct, and made a solemn vow never to fight another duel. the following anecdote of his forbearance is well known, but it will bear repetition:-- a dispute arose in a coffee-house between him and a young man on some trivial point, and the latter, losing his temper, impertinently spat in the face of the veteran. sir walter, instead of running him through the body, as many would have done, or challenging him to mortal combat, coolly took out his handkerchief, wiped his face, and said, "young man, if i could as easily wipe from my conscience the stain of killing you, as i can this spittle from my face, you should not live another minute." the young man immediately begged his pardon.] scores of duels (many of them fatal) have been fought from disputes at cards, or a place at a theatre, while hundreds of challenges, given and accepted over-night, in a fit of drunkenness, have been fought out the next morning to the death of one or both of the antagonists. two of the most notorious duels of modern times had their origin in causes no more worthy than the quarrel of a dog and the favour of a prostitute: that between macnamara and montgomery arising from the former; and that between best and lord camelford, from the latter. the dog of montgomery attacked a dog belonging to macnamara, and each master interfering in behalf of his own animal, high words ensued. the result was the giving and accepting a challenge to mortal combat. the parties met on the following day, when montgomery was shot dead, and his antagonist severely wounded. this affair created a great sensation at the time, and heaviside, the surgeon who attended at the fatal field to render his assistance, if necessary, was arrested as an accessory to the murder, and committed to newgate. in the duel between best and lord camelford, two pistols were used which were considered to be the best in england. one of them was thought slightly superior to the other, and it was agreed that the belligerents should toss up a piece of money to decide the choice of weapons. best gained it, and, at the first discharge, lord camelford fell, mortally wounded. but little sympathy was expressed for his fate; he was a confirmed duellist, had been engaged in many meetings of the kind, and the blood of more than one fellow-creature lay at his door. as he had sowed, so did he reap; and the violent man met an appropriate death. it now only remains to notice the means that have been taken to stay the prevalence of this madness of false honour in the various countries of the civilized world. the efforts of the governments of france and england have already been mentioned, and their want of success is but too well known. the same efforts have been attended with the same results elsewhere. in despotic countries, where the will of the monarch has been strongly expressed and vigorously supported, a diminution of the evil has for a while resulted, but only to be increased again, when death relaxed the iron grasp, and a successor appeared of less decided opinions upon the subject. this was the case in prussia under the great frederick, of whose aversion to duelling a popular anecdote is recorded. it is stated of him that he permitted duelling in his army, but only upon the condition that the combatants should fight in presence of a whole battalion of infantry, drawn up on purpose, to see fair play. the latter received strict orders, when one of the belligerents fell, to shoot the other immediately. it is added, that the known determination of the king effectually put a stop to the practice. the emperor joseph ii of austria was as firm as frederick, although the measures he adopted were not so singular. the following letter explains his views on the subject:-- "to general * * * * * "my general, "you will immediately arrest the count of k. and captain w. the count is young, passionate, and influenced by wrong notions of birth and a false spirit of honour. captain w. is an old soldier, who will adjust every dispute with the sword and pistol, and who has received the challenge of the young count with unbecoming warmth. "i will suffer no duelling in my army. i despise the principles of those who attempt to justify the practice, and who would run each other through the body in cold blood. "when i have officers who bravely expose themselves to every danger in facing the enemy--who at all times exhibit courage, valour, and resolution in attack and defence, i esteem them highly. the coolness with which they meet death on such occasions is serviceable to their country, and at the same time redounds to their own honour; but should there be men amongst them who are ready to sacrifice everything to their vengeance and hatred, i despise them. i consider such a man as no better than a roman gladiator. "order a court-martial to try the two officers. investigate the subject of their dispute with that impartiality which i demand from every judge; and he that is guilty, let him be a sacrifice to his fate and the laws. "such a barbarous custom, which suits the age of the tamerlanes and bajazets, and which has often had such melancholy effects on single families, i will have suppressed and punished, even if it should deprive me of one half of my officers. there are still men who know how to unite the character of a hero with that of a good subject; and he only can be so who respects the laws. "joseph." "august ." [vide the letters of joseph ii to distinguished princes and statesmen, published for the first time in england in "the pamphleteer" for . they were originally published in germany a few years previously, and throw a great light upon the character of that monarch and the events of his reign.] in the united states of america the code varies considerably. in one or two of the still wild and simple states of the far west, where no duel has yet been fought, there is no specific law upon the subject beyond that in the decalogue, which says, "thou shalt do no murder." but duelling everywhere follows the steps of modern civilization, and by the time the backwoodsman is transformed into the citizen, he has imbibed the false notions of honour which are prevalent in europe, and around him, and is ready, like his progenitors, to settle his differences with the pistol. in the majority of the states the punishment for challenging, fighting, or acting as second, is solitary imprisonment and hard labour for any period less than a year, and disqualification for serving any public office for twenty years. in vermont the punishment is total disqualification for office, deprivation of the rights of citizenship, and a fine; in fatal cases, the same punishment as that of murderers. in rhode island, the combatant, though death does not ensue, is liable to be carted to the gallows, with a rope about his neck, and to sit in this trim for an hour, exposed to the peltings of the mob. he may be further imprisoned for a year, at the option of the magistrate. in connecticut the punishment is total disqualification for office or employ, and a fine, varying from one hundred to a thousand dollars. the laws of illinois require certain officers of the state to make oath, previous to their instalment, that they have never been, nor ever will be, concerned in a duel. ["encyclopedia americana," art. duelling.] amongst the edicts against duelling promulgated at various times in europe, may be mentioned that of augustus king of poland, in , which decreed the punishment of death against principals and seconds, and minor punishments against the bearers of a challenge. an edict was also published at munich, in , according to which both principals and seconds, even in duels where no one was either killed or wounded, should be hanged, and their bodies buried at the foot of the gallows. the king of naples issued an ordinance against duelling in , in which the punishment of death is decreed against all concerned in a fatal duel. the bodies of those killed, and of those who may be executed in consequence, are to be buried in unconsecrated ground, and without any religious ceremony; nor is any monument to be erected on the spot. the punishment for duels in which either, or both, are wounded, and for those in which no damage whatever is done, varies according to the case, and consists of fine, imprisonment, loss of rank and honours, and incapacity for filling any public situation. bearers of challenges may also be punished with fine and imprisonment. it might be imagined that enactments so severe all over the civilized world would finally eradicate a custom, the prevalence of which every wise and good man must deplore. but the frowns of the law never yet have taught, and never will teach, men to desist from this practice, as long as it is felt that the lawgiver sympathises with it in his heart. the stern judge upon the bench may say to the unfortunate wight who has been called a liar by some unmannerly opponent, "if you challenge him, you meditate murder, and are guilty of murder!" but the same judge, divested of his robes of state, and mixing in the world with other men, would say, "if you do not challenge him, if you do not run the risk of making yourself a murderer, you will be looked upon as a mean-spirited wretch, unfit to associate with your fellows, and deserving nothing but their scorn and their contempt!" it is society, and not the duellist, who is to blame. female influence, too, which is so powerful in leading men either to good or to evil, takes, in this case, the evil part. mere animal bravery has, unfortunately, such charms in the female eye, that a successful duellist is but too often regarded as a sort of hero; and the man who refuses to fight, though of truer courage, is thought a poltroon, who may be trampled on. mr. graves, a member of the american legislature, who, early in , killed a mr. cilley in a duel, truly and eloquently said, on the floor of the house of representatives, when lamenting the unfortunate issue of that encounter, that society was more to blame than he was. "public opinion," said the repentant orator, "is practically the paramount law of the land. every other law, both human and divine, ceases to be observed; yea, withers and perishes in contact with it. it was this paramount law of this nation, and of this house, that forced me, under the penalty of dishonour, to subject myself to the code, which impelled me unwillingly into this tragical affair. upon the heads of this nation, and at the doors of this house, rests the blood with which my unfortunate hands have been stained!" as long as society is in this mood; as long as it thinks that the man who refuses to resent an insult, deserved that insult, and should be scouted accordingly, so long, it is to be feared, will duelling exist, however severe the laws may be. men must have redress for injuries inflicted, and when those injuries are of such a nature that no tribunal will take cognizance of them, the injured will take the law into their own hands, and right themselves in the opinion of their fellows, at the hazard of their lives. much as the sage may affect to despise the opinion of the world, there are few who would not rather expose their lives a hundred times than be condemned to live on, in society, but not of it--a by-word of reproach to all who know their history, and a mark for scorn to point his finger at. the only practicable means for diminishing the force of a custom which is the disgrace of civilization, seems to be the establishment of a court of honour, which should take cognizance of all those delicate and almost intangible offences which yet wound so deeply. the court established by louis xiv might be taken as a model. no man now fights a duel when a fit apology has been offered, and it should be the duty of this court to weigh dispassionately the complaint of every man injured in his honour, either by word or deed, and to force the offender to make a public apology. if he refused the apology, he would be the breaker of a second law; an offender against a high court, as well as against the man he had injured, and might be punished with fine and imprisonment, the latter to last until he saw the error of his conduct, and made the concession which the court demanded. if, after the establishment of this tribunal, men should be found of a nature so bloodthirsty as not to be satisfied with its peaceful decisions, and should resort to the old and barbarous mode of an appeal to the pistol, some means might be found of dealing with them. to hang them as murderers would be of no avail; for to such men death would have few terrors. shame alone would bring them to reason. the following code, it is humbly suggested to all future legislators upon the subject, would, in conjunction with the establishment of a court of honour, do much towards eradicating this blot from society. every man who fought a duel, even though he did not wound his opponent, should be tried, and, upon proof of the fact, be sentenced to have his right hand cut off. the world would then know his true character as long as he lived. if his habits of duelling were so inveterate, and he should learn to fire a pistol with his left hand, he should, upon conviction of a second offence, lose that hand also. this law, which should allow no commutation of the punishment, under any circumstances, would lend strength and authority to the court of honour. in the course of a few years duelling would be ranked amongst exploded follies, and men would begin to wonder that a custom so barbarous and so impious had ever existed amongst them. the love of the marvellous and the disbelief of the true. "well, son john," said the old woman, "and what wonderful things did you meet with all the time you were at sea?"--"oh! mother," replied john, "i saw many strange things."--"tell us all about them," replied his mother, "for i long to hear your adventures."--"well, then," said john, "as we were sailing over the line, what do you think we saw?"--"i can't imagine," replied his mother.--"well, we saw a fish rise out of the sea, and fly over our ship!" "oh! john! john! what a liar you are!" said his mother, shaking her head, and smiling incredulously. "true as death? said john; "and we saw still more wonderful things than that."--"let us hear them," said his mother, shaking her head again; "and tell the truth, john, if you can."--"believe it, or believe it not, as you please," replied her son; "but as we were sailing up the red sea, our captain thought he should like some fish for dinner; so he told us to throw our nets, and catch some."--"well," inquired his mother, seeing that he paused in his story. "well," rejoined her son, "we did throw them, and, at the very first haul, we brought up a chariot-wheel, made all of gold, and inlaid with diamonds!" "lord bless us!" said his mother, "and what did the captain say?"--"why, he said it was one of the wheels of pharaoh's chariot, that had lain in the red sea ever since that wicked king was drowned, with all his host, while pursuing the israelites."--"well, well," said his mother, lifting up her hands in admiration; "now, that's very possible, and i think the captain was a very sensible man. tell me such stories as that, and i'll believe you; but never talk to me of such things as flying fish! no, no, john, such stories won't go down with me, i can assure you!" such old women as the sailor's mother, in the above well-known anecdote, are by no means rare in the world. every age and country has produced them. they have been found in high places, and have sat down among the learned of the earth. instances must be familiar to every reader in which the same person was willing, with greedy credulity, to swallow the most extravagant fiction, and yet refuse credence to a philosophical fact. the same greeks who believed readily that jupiter wooed leda in the form of a swan, denied stoutly that there were any physical causes for storms and thunder, and treated as impious those who attempted to account for them on true philosophical principles. the reasons that thus lead mankind to believe the marvellously false, and to disbelieve the marvellously true, may be easily gathered. of all the offspring of time, error is the most ancient, and is so old and familiar an acquaintance, that truth, when discovered, comes upon most of us like an intruder, and meets the intruder's welcome. we all pay an involuntary homage to antiquity--a "blind homage," as bacon calls it in his "novum organum," which tends greatly to the obstruction of truth. to the great majority of mortal eyes, time sanctifies everything that he does not destroy. the mere fact of anything being spared by the great foe makes it a favourite with us, who are sure to fall his victims. to call a prejudice "time-hallowed," is to open a way for it into hearts where it never before penetrated. some peculiar custom may disgrace the people amongst whom it flourishes; yet men of a little wisdom refuse to aid in its extirpation, merely because it is old. thus it is with human belief, and thus it is we bring shame upon our own intellect. to this cause may be added another, also mentioned by lord bacon--a misdirected zeal in matters of religion, which induces so many to decry a newly-discovered truth, because the divine records contain no allusion to it, or because, at first sight, it appears to militate, not against religion, but against some obscure passage which has never been fairly interpreted. the old woman in the story could not believe that there was such a creature as a flying-fish, because her bible did not tell her so, but she believed that her son had drawn up the golden and bejewelled wheel from the red sea, because her bible informed her that pharaoh was drowned there. upon a similar principle the monks of the inquisition believed that the devil appeared visibly among men, that st. anthony pulled his nose with a pair of red-hot pincers, and that the relics of the saints worked miracles; yet they would not believe galileo, when he proved that the earth turned round the sun. keppler, when he asserted the same fact, could gain no bread, and little credence; but when he pretended to tell fortunes and cast nativities, the whole town flocked to him, and paid him enormous fees for his falsehood. when roger bacon invented the telescope and the magic-lantern, no one believed that the unaided ingenuity of man could have done it; but when some wiseacres asserted that the devil had appeared to him, and given him the knowledge which he turned to such account, no one was bold enough to assert that it was improbable. his hint that saltpetre, sulphur, and charcoal, mixed in certain proportions, would produce effects similar to thunder and lightning, was disregarded or disbelieved; but the legend of the brazen head which delivered oracles, was credited for many ages. [godwin, in his "lives of the necromancers," gives the following version of this legend. friar bacon and friar bungay entertained the project of enclosing england with a wall, so as to render it inaccessible to any invader. they accordingly raised the devil, as the person best able to inform them how this was to be done. the devil advised them to make a brazen head, with all the internal structure and organs of a human head. the construction would cost them much time, and they must wait with patience till the faculty of speech descended upon it. finally, however, it would become an oracle, and, if the question were propounded to it, would teach them the solution of their problem. the friars spent seven years in bringing the subject to perfection, and waited day after day in expectation that it would utter articulate sounds. at length nature became exhausted in them, and they lay down to sleep, having first given it strictly in charge to a servant of theirs, clownish in nature, but of strict fidelity, that he should awaken them the moment the image began to speak. that period arrived. the head uttered sounds, but such as the clown judged unworthy of notice. "time is!" it said. no notice was taken, and a long pause ensued. "time was!"--a similar pause, and no notice. "time is passed!" the moment these words were uttered, a tremendous storm ensued, with thunder and lightning, and the head was shivered into a thousand pieces. thus the experiment of friar bacon and friar bungay came to nothing.] solomon de cans, who, in the time of cardinal richelieu, conceived the idea of a steam-engine, was shut up in the bastille as a madman, because the idea of such an extraordinary instrument was too preposterous for the wise age that believed in all the absurdities of witchcraft. when harvey first proved the circulation of the blood, every tongue was let loose against him. the thing was too obviously an imposition, and an attempt to deceive that public who believed that a king's touch had power to cure the scrofula. that a dead criminal's hand, rubbed against a wen, would cure it, was reasonable enough; but that the blood flowed through the veins was beyond all probability. in our own day, a similar fate awaited the beneficent discovery of dr. jenner. that vaccination could abate the virulence of, or preserve from, the smallpox, was quite incredible; none but a cheat and a quack could assert it: but that the introduction of the vaccine matter into the human frame could endow men with the qualities of a cow, was quite probable. many of the poorer people actually dreaded that their children would grow hairy and horned as cattle, if they suffered them to be vaccinated. the jesuit, father labat, the shrewd and learned traveller in south america, relates an experiment which he made upon the credulity of some native peruvians. holding a powerful lens in his hand, and concentrating the rays of the sun upon the naked arm of an admiring savage, he soon made him roar with pain. all the tribe looked on, first with wonder, and then with indignation and wonder both combined. in vain the philosopher attempted to explain the cause of the phenomenon--in vain he offered to convince them that there was nothing devilish in the experiment--he was thought to be in league with the infernal gods to draw down the fire from heaven, and was looked upon, himself, as an awful and supernatural being. many attempts were made to gain possession of the lens, with the view of destroying it, and thereby robbing the western stranger of the means of bringing upon them the vengeance of his deities. very similar was the conduct of that inquiring brahmin, which is related by forbes in his oriental memoirs. the brahmin had a mind better cultivated than his fellows; he was smitten with a love for the knowledge of europe--read english books--pored over the pages of the encyclopedia, and profited by various philosophical instruments; but on religious questions the brahmin was firm to the faith of his caste and the doctrine of the metempsychosis. lest he might sacrilegiously devour his progenitors, he abstained from all animal food; and thinking that he ate nothing which enjoyed life, he supported himself, like his brethren, upon fruits and vegetables. all the knowledge that did not run counter to this belief, he sought after with avidity, and bade fair to become the wisest of his race. in an evil hour, his english friend and instructor exhibited a very powerful solar microscope, by means of which he showed him that every drop of water that he drank teemed with life--that every fruit was like a world, covered with innumerable animalculae, each of which was fitted by its organization for the sphere in which it moved, and had its wants, and the capability of supplying them as completely as visible animals millions of times its bulk. the english philosopher expected that his hindoo friend would be enraptured at the vast field of knowledge thus suddenly opened out to him, but he was deceived. the brahmin from that time became an altered man--thoughtful, gloomy, reserved, and discontented. he applied repeatedly to his friend that he would make him a present of the microscope; but as it was the only one of its kind in india, and the owner set a value upon it for other reasons, he constantly refused the request, but offered him the loan of it for any period he might require. but nothing short of an unconditional gift of the instrument would satisfy the brahmin, who became at last so importunate that the patience of the englishman was exhausted, and he gave it him. a gleam of joy shot across the care-worn features of the hindoo as he clutched it, and bounding with an exulting leap into the garden, he seized a large stone, and dashed the instrument into a thousand pieces. when called upon to explain his extraordinary conduct, he said to his friend, "oh that i had remained in that happy state of ignorance wherein you first found me! yet will i confess that, as my knowledge increased, so did my pleasure, until i beheld the last wonders of the microscope; from that moment i have been tormented by doubt and perplexed by mystery: my mind, overwhelmed by chaotic confusion, knows not where to rest, nor how to extricate itself from such a maze. i am miserable, and must continue to be so, until i enter on another stage of existence. i am a solitary individual among fifty millions of people, all educated in the same belief with myself--all happy in their ignorance! so may they ever remain! i shall keep the secret within my own bosom, where it will corrode my peace and break my rest. but i shall have some satisfaction in knowing that i alone feel those pangs which, had i not destroyed the instrument, might have been extensively communicated, and rendered thousands miserable! forgive me, my valuable friend! and oh, convey no more implements of knowledge and destruction!" many a learned man may smile at the ignorance of the peruvian and the hindoo, unconscious that he himself is just as ignorant and as prejudiced. who does not remember the outcry against the science of geology, which has hardly yet subsided? its professors were impiously and absurdly accused of designing to "hurl the creator from his throne." they were charged with sapping the foundations of religion, and of propping atheism by the aid of a pretended science. the very same principle which leads to the rejection of the true, leads to the encouragement of the false. thus we may account for the success which has attended great impostors, at times when the truth, though not half so wondrous as their impositions, has been disregarded as extravagant and preposterous. the man who wishes to cheat the people, must needs found his operations upon some prejudice or belief that already exists. thus the philosophic pretenders who told fortunes by the stars cured all diseases by one nostrum, and preserved from evil by charms and amulets, ran with the current of popular belief. errors that were consecrated by time and long familiarity, they heightened and embellished, and succeeded to their hearts' content; but the preacher of truth had a foundation to make as well as a superstructure, a difficulty which did not exist for the preacher of error. columbus preached a new world, but was met with distrust and incredulity; had he preached with as much zeal and earnestness the discovery of some valley in the old one, where diamonds hung upon the trees, or a herb grew that cured all the ills incidental to humanity, he would have found a warm and hearty welcome--might have sold dried cabbage leaves for his wonderful herb, and made his fortune. in fact, it will be found in the history of every generation and race of men, that whenever a choice of belief between the "wondrously false" and the "wondrously true" is given to ignorance or prejudice, that their choice will be fixed upon the first, for the reason that it is most akin to their own nature. the great majority of mankind, and even of the wisest among us, are still in the condition of the sailor's mother--believing and disbelieving on the same grounds that she did--protesting against the flying fish, but cherishing the golden wheels. thousands there are amongst us, who, rather than pin their faith in the one fish, would believe not only in the wheel of gold, but the chariot--not only in the chariot, but in the horses and the driver. popular follies in great cities la faridondaine--la faridondon, vive la faridondaine! beranger. the popular humours of a great city are a never-failing source of amusement to the man whose sympathies are hospitable enough to embrace all his kind, and who, refined though he may be himself, will not sneer at the humble wit or grotesque peculiarities of the boozing mechanic, the squalid beggar, the vicious urchin, and all the motley group of the idle, the reckless, and the imitative that swarm in the alleys and broadways of a metropolis. he who walks through a great city to find subjects for weeping, may, god knows, find plenty at every corner to wring his heart; but let such a man walk on his course, and enjoy his grief alone--we are not of those who would accompany him. the miseries of us poor earth-dwellers gain no alleviation from the sympathy of those who merely hunt them out to be pathetic over them. the weeping philosopher too often impairs his eyesight by his woe, and becomes unable from his tears to see the remedies for the evils which he deplores. thus it will often be found that the man of no tears is the truest philanthropist, as he is the best physician who wears a cheerful face, even in the worst of cases. so many pens have been employed to point out the miseries, and so many to condemn the crimes and vices, and more serious follies of the multitude, that our's shall not increase the number, at least in this chapter. our present task shall be less ungracious, and wandering through the busy haunts of great cities, we shall seek only for amusement, and note as we pass a few of the harmless follies and whimsies of the poor. and, first of all, walk where we will, we cannot help hearing from every side a phrase repeated with delight, and received with laughter, by men with hard hands and dirty faces--by saucy butcher lads and errand-boys--by loose women--by hackney coachmen, cabriolet drivers, and idle fellows who loiter at the corners of streets. not one utters this phrase without producing a laugh from all within hearing. it seems applicable to every circumstance, and is the universal answer to every question; in short, it is the favourite slang phrase of the day, a phrase that, while its brief season of popularity lasts, throws a dash of fun and frolicsomeness over the existence of squalid poverty and ill-requited labour, and gives them reason to laugh as well as their more fortunate fellows in a higher stage of society. london is peculiarly fertile in this sort of phrases, which spring up suddenly, no one knows exactly in what spot, and pervade the whole population in a few hours, no one knows how. many years ago the favourite phrase (for, though but a monosyllable, it was a phrase in itself) was quoz. this odd word took the fancy of the multitude in an extraordinary degree, and very soon acquired an almost boundless meaning. when vulgar wit wished to mark its incredulity and raise a laugh at the same time, there was no resource so sure as this popular piece of slang. when a man was asked a favour which he did not choose to grant, he marked his sense of the suitor's unparalleled presumption by exclaiming quoz! when a mischievous urchin wished to annoy a passenger, and create mirth for his chums, he looked him in the face, and cried out quoz! and the exclamation never failed in its object. when a disputant was desirous of throwing a doubt upon the veracity of his opponent, and getting summarily rid of an argument which he could not overturn, he uttered the word quoz, with a contemptuous curl of his lip and an impatient shrug of his shoulders. the universal monosyllable conveyed all his meaning, and not only told his opponent that he lied, but that he erred egregiously if he thought that any one was such a nincompoop as to believe him. every alehouse resounded with quoz; every street corner was noisy with it, and every wall for miles around was chalked with it. but, like all other earthly things, quoz had its season, and passed away as suddenly as it arose, never again to be the pet and the idol of the populace. a new claimant drove it from its place, and held undisputed sway till, in its turn, it was hurled from its pre-eminence, and a successor appointed in its stead. "what a shocking bad hat!" was the phrase that was next in vogue. no sooner had it become universal, than thousands of idle but sharp eyes were on the watch for the passenger whose hat showed any signs, however slight, of ancient service. immediately the cry arose, and, like the what-whoop of the indians, was repeated by a hundred discordant throats. he was a wise man who, finding himself under these circumstances "the observed of all observers," bore his honours meekly. he who showed symptoms of ill-feeling at the imputations cast upon his hat, only brought upon himself redoubled notice. the mob soon perceive whether a man is irritable, and, if of their own class, they love to make sport of him. when such a man, and with such a hat, passed in those days through a crowded neighbourhood, he might think himself fortunate if his annoyances were confined to the shouts and cries of the populace. the obnoxious hat was often snatched from his head, and thrown into the gutter by some practical joker, and then raised, covered with mud, upon the end of a stick, for the admiration of the spectators, who held their sides with laughter, and exclaimed in the pauses of their mirth, "oh! what a shocking bad hat!... what a shocking bad hat!" many a nervous, poor man, whose purse could but ill spare the outlay, doubtless purchased a new hat before the time, in order to avoid exposure in this manner. the origin of this singular saying, which made fun for the metropolis for months, is not involved in the same obscurity as that which shrouds the origin of quoz and some others. there had been a hotly-contested election for the borough of southwark, and one of the candidates was an eminent hatter. this gentleman, in canvassing the electors, adopted a somewhat professional mode of conciliating their good-will, and of bribing them without letting them perceive that they were bribed. whenever he called upon or met a voter whose hat was not of the best material, or, being so, had seen its best days, he invariably said, "what a shocking bad hat you have got; call at my warehouse, and you shall have a new one!" upon the day of election this circumstance was remembered, and his opponents made the most of it, by inciting the crowd to keep up an incessant cry of "what a shocking bad hat!" all the time the honourable candidate was addressing them. from southwark the phrase spread over all london, and reigned, for a time, the supreme slang of the season. hookey walker, derived from the chorus of a popular ballad, was also high in favour at one time, and served, like its predecessor, quoz, to answer all questions. in the course of time the latter word alone became the favourite, and was uttered with a peculiar drawl upon the first syllable, and a sharp turn upon the last. if a lively servant girl was importuned for a kiss by a fellow she did not care about, she cocked her little nose, and cried "walker!" if a dustman asked his friend for the loan of a shilling, and his friend was either unable or unwilling to accommodate him, the probable answer he would receive was "walker!" if a drunken man was reeling along the streets, and a boy pulled his coat-tails, or a man knocked his hat over his eyes to make fun of him, the joke was always accompanied by the same exclamation. this lasted for two or three months, and "walker!" walked off the stage, never more to be revived for the entertainment of that or any future generation. the next phrase was a most preposterous one. who invented it, how it arose, or where it was first heard, are alike unknown. nothing about it is certain, but that for months it was the slang par excellence of the londoners, and afforded them a vast gratification. "there he goes with his eye out!" or "there she goes with her eye out!" as the sex of the party alluded to might be, was in the mouth of everybody who knew the town. the sober part of the community were as much puzzled by this unaccountable saying as the vulgar were delighted with it. the wise thought it very foolish, but the many thought it very funny, and the idle amused themselves by chalking it upon walls, or scribbling it upon monuments. but, "all that's bright must fade," even in slang. the people grew tired of their hobby, and "there he goes with his eye out!" was heard no more in its accustomed haunts. another very odd phrase came into repute in a brief space afterwards, in the form of the impertinent and not universally apposite query, "has your mother sold her mangle?" but its popularity was not of that boisterous and cordial kind which ensures a long continuance of favour. what tended to impede its progress was, that it could not be well applied to the older portions of society. it consequently ran but a brief career, and then sank into oblivion. its successor enjoyed a more extended fame, and laid its foundations so deep, that years and changing fashions have not sufficed to eradicate it. this phrase was "flare up!" and it is, even now, a colloquialism in common use. it took its rise in the time of the reform riots, when bristol was nearly half burned by the infuriated populace. the flames were said to have flared up in the devoted city. whether there was anything peculiarly captivating in the sound, or in the idea of these words, is hard to say; but whatever was the reason, it tickled the mob-fancy mightily, and drove all other slang out of the field before it. nothing was to be heard all over london but "flare up!" it answered all questions, settled all disputes, was applied to all persons, all things, and all circumstances, and became suddenly the most comprehensive phrase in the english language. the man who had overstepped the bounds of decorum in his speech was said to have flared up; he who had paid visits too repeated to the gin-shop, and got damaged in consequence, had flared up. to put one's-self into a passion; to stroll out on a nocturnal frolic, and alarm a neighbourhood, or to create a disturbance in any shape, was to flare up. a lovers' quarrel was a fare up; so was a boxing-match between two blackguards in the streets, and the preachers of sedition and revolution recommended the english nation to flare up, like the french. so great a favourite was the word, that people loved to repeat it for its very sound. they delighted apparently in hearing their own organs articulate it; and labouring men, when none who could respond to the call were within hearing, would often startle the aristocratic echoes of the west by the well-known slang phrase of the east. even in the dead hours of the night, the ears of those who watched late, or who could not sleep, were saluted with the same sound. the drunkard reeling home showed that he was still a man and a citizen, by calling "flare up" in the pauses of his hiccough. drink had deprived him of the power of arranging all other ideas; his intellect was sunk to the level of the brute's; but he clung to humanity by the one last link of the popular cry. while he could vociferate that sound, he had rights as an englishman, and would not sleep in a gutter, like a dog! onwards he went, disturbing quiet streets and comfortable people by his whoop, till exhausted nature could support him no more, and he rolled powerless into the road. when, in due time afterwards, the policeman stumbled upon him as he lay, that guardian of the peace turned the full light of his lantern on his face, and exclaimed, "here's a poor devil who's been flaring up!" then came the stretcher, on which the victim of deep potations was carried to the watchhouse, and pitched into a dirty cell, among a score of wretches about as far gone as himself, who saluted their new comrade by a loud, long shout of flare up! so universal was this phrase, and so enduring seemed its popularity, that a speculator, who knew not the evanescence of slang, established a weekly newspaper under its name. but he was like the man who built his house upon the sand; his foundation gave way under him, and the phrase and the newspaper were washed into the mighty sea of the things that were. the people grew at last weary of the monotony, and "flare up" became vulgar even among them. gradually it was left to little boys who did not know the world, and in process of time sank altogether into neglect. it is now heard no more as a piece of popular slang; but the words are still used to signify any sudden outburst either of fire, disturbance, or ill-nature. the next phrase that enjoyed the favour of the million was less concise, and seems to have been originally aimed against precocious youths who gave themselves the airs of manhood before their time. "does your mother know you're out?" was the provoking query addressed to young men of more than reasonable swagger, who smoked cigars in the streets, and wore false whiskers to look irresistible. we have seen many a conceited fellow who could not suffer a woman to pass him without staring her out of countenance, reduced at once into his natural insignificance by the mere utterance of this phrase. apprentice lads and shopmen in their sunday clothes held the words in abhorrence, and looked fierce when they were applied to them. altogether the phrase had a very salutary effect, and in a thousand instances showed young vanity, that it was not half so pretty and engaging as it thought itself. what rendered it so provoking was the doubt it implied as to the capability of self-guidance possessed by the individual to whom it was addressed. "does your mother know you're out?" was a query of mock concern and solicitude, implying regret and concern that one so young and inexperienced in the ways of a great city should be allowed to wander abroad without the guidance of a parent. hence the great wrath of those who verged on manhood, but had not reached it, whenever they were made the subject of it. even older heads did not like it; and the heir of a ducal house, and inheritor of a warrior's name, to whom they were applied by a cabriolet driver, who was ignorant of his rank, was so indignant at the affront, that he summoned the offender before the magisterial bench. the fellow had wished to impose upon his lordship by asking double the fare he was entitled to, and when his lordship resisted the demand, he was insultingly asked "if his mother knew he was out?" all the drivers on the stand joined in the query, and his lordship was fain to escape their laughter by walking away with as much haste as his dignity would allow. the man pleaded ignorance that his customer was a lord, but offended justice fined him for his mistake. when this phrase had numbered its appointed days, it died away, like its predecessors, and "who are you?" reigned in its stead. this new favourite, like a mushroom, seems to have sprung up in a night, or, like a frog in cheapside, to have come down in a sudden shower. one day it was unheard, unknown, uninvented; the next it pervaded london; every alley resounded with it; every highway was musical with it, "and street to street, and lane to lane flung back the one unvarying cry." the phrase was uttered quickly, and with a sharp sound upon the first and last words, leaving the middle one little more than an aspiration. like all its compeers which had been extensively popular, it was applicable to almost every variety of circumstance. the lovers of a plain answer to a plain question did not like it at all. insolence made use of it to give offence; ignorance, to avoid exposing itself; and waggery, to create laughter. every new comer into an alehouse tap-room was asked unceremoniously, "who are you?" and if he looked foolish, scratched his head, and did not know what to reply, shouts of boisterous merriment resounded on every side. an authoritative disputant was not unfrequently put down, and presumption of every kind checked by the same query. when its popularity was at its height, a gentleman, feeling the hand of a thief in his pocket, turned suddenly round, and caught him in the act, exclaiming, "who are you?" the mob which gathered round applauded to the very echo, and thought it the most capital joke they had ever heard--the very acme of wit--the very essence of humour. another circumstance, of a similar kind, gave an additional fillip to the phrase, and infused new life and vigour into it, just as it was dying away. the scene occurred in the chief criminal court of the kingdom. a prisoner stood at the bar; the offence with which he had been charged was clearly proved against him; his counsel had been heard, not in his defence, but in extenuation, insisting upon his previous good life and character, as reasons for the lenity of the court. "and where are your witnesses?" inquired the learned judge who presided. "please you, my lord, i knows the prisoner at the bar, and a more honester feller never breathed," said a rough voice in the gallery. the officers of the court looked aghast, and the strangers tittered with ill-suppressed laughter. "who are you?" said the judge, looking suddenly up, but with imperturbable gravity. the court was convulsed; the titter broke out into a laugh, and it was several minutes before silence and decorum could be restored. when the ushers recovered their self-possession, they made diligent search for the profane transgressor; but he was not to be found. nobody knew him; nobody had seen him. after a while the business of the court again proceeded. the next prisoner brought up for trial augured favourably of his prospects when he learned that the solemn lips of the representative of justice had uttered the popular phrase as if he felt and appreciated it. there was no fear that such a judge would use undue severity; his heart was with the people; he understood their language and their manners, and would make allowances for the temptations which drove them into crime. so thought many of the prisoners, if we may infer it from the fact, that the learned judge suddenly acquired an immense increase of popularity. the praise of his wit was in every mouth, and "who are you?" renewed its lease, and remained in possession of public favour for another term in consequence. but it must not be supposed that there were no interregni between the dominion of one slang phrase and another. they did not arise in one long line of unbroken succession, but shared with song the possession of popular favour. thus, when the people were in the mood for music, slang advanced its claims to no purpose, and, when they were inclined for slang, the sweet voice of music wooed them in vain. about twenty years ago london resounded with one chorus, with the love of which everybody seemed to be smitten. girls and boys, young men and old, maidens and wives, and widows, were all alike musical. there was an absolute mania for singing, and the worst of it was, that, like good father philip, in the romance of "the monastery," they seemed utterly unable to change their tune. "cherry ripe!" "cherry ripe!" was the universal cry of all the idle in the town. every unmelodious voice gave utterance to it; every crazy fiddle, every cracked flute, every wheezy pipe, every street organ was heard in the same strain, until studious and quiet men stopped their ears in desperation, or fled miles away into the fields or woodlands, to be at peace. this plague lasted for a twelvemonth, until the very name of cherries became an abomination in the land. at last the excitement wore itself away, and the tide of favour set in a new direction. whether it was another song or a slang phrase, is difficult to determine at this distance of time; but certain it is, that very shortly afterwards, people went mad upon a dramatic subject, and nothing was to be heard of but "tom and jerry." verbal wit had amused the multitude long enough, and they became more practical in their recreation. every youth on the town was seized with the fierce desire of distinguishing himself, by knocking down the "charlies," being locked up all night in a watchhouse, or kicking up a row among loose women and blackguard men in the low dens of st. giles's. imitative boys vied with their elders in similar exploits, until this unworthy passion, for such it was, had lasted, like other follies, its appointed time, and the town became merry after another fashion. it was next thought the height of vulgar wit to answer all questions by placing the point of the thumb upon the tip of the nose, and twirling the fingers in the air. if one man wished to insult or annoy another, he had only to make use of this cabalistic sign in his face, and his object was accomplished. at every street corner where a group was assembled, the spectator who was curious enough to observe their movements, would be sure to see the fingers of some of them at their noses, either as a mark of incredulity, surprise, refusal, or mockery, before he had watched two minutes. there is some remnant of this absurd custom to be seen to this day; but it is thought low, even among the vulgar. about six years ago, london became again most preposterously musical. the vox populi wore itself hoarse by singing the praises of "the sea, the sea!" if a stranger (and a philosopher) had walked through london, and listened to the universal chorus, he might have constructed a very pretty theory upon the love of the english for the sea-service, and our acknowledged superiority over all other nations upon that element. "no wonder," he might have said, "that this people is invincible upon the ocean. the love of it mixes with their daily thoughts: they celebrate it even in the market-place: their street-minstrels excite charity by it; and high and low, young and old, male and female, chant io paeans in its praise. love is not honoured in the national songs of this warlike race--bacchus is no god to them; they are men of sterner mould, and think only of 'the sea, the sea!' and the means of conquering upon it." such would, doubtless, have been his impression if he had taken the evidence only of his ears. alas! in those days for the refined ears that were musical! great was their torture when discord, with its thousand diversities of tone, struck up this appalling anthem--there was no escape from it. the migratory minstrels of savoy caught the strain, and pealed it down the long vistas of quiet streets, till their innermost and snuggest apartments re-echoed with the sound. men were obliged to endure this crying evil for full six months, wearied to desperation, and made sea-sick on the dry land. several other songs sprang up in due succession afterwards, but none of them, with the exception of one, entitled "all round my hat," enjoyed any extraordinary share of favour, until an american actor introduced a vile song called "jim crow." the singer sang his verses in appropriate costume, with grotesque gesticulations, and a sudden whirl of his body at the close of each verse. it took the taste of the town immediately, and for months the ears of orderly people were stunned by the senseless chorus-- "turn about and wheel about, and do just so-- turn about and wheel about, and jump, jim crow!" street-minstrels blackened their faces in order to give proper effect to the verses; and fatherless urchins, who had to choose between thieving and singing for their livelihood, took the latter course, as likely to be the more profitable, as long as the public taste remained in that direction. the uncouth dance, its accompaniment, might be seen in its full perfection on market nights in any great thoroughfare; and the words of the song might be heard, piercing above all the din and buzz of the ever-moving multitude. he, the calm observer, who during the hey-day popularity of this doggrel, "sate beside the public way, thick strewn with summer dust, and saw the stream of people there was hurrying to and fro, numerous as gnats upon the evening gleam," might have exclaimed with shelley, whose fine lines we quote, that "the million, with fierce song and maniac dance, did rage around." the philosophic theorist we have already supposed soliloquising upon the english character, and forming his opinion of it from their exceeding love for a sea-song, might, if he had again dropped suddenly into london, have formed another very plausible theory to account for our unremitting efforts for the abolition of the slave trade. "benevolent people!" he might have said, "how unbounded are your sympathies! your unhappy brethren of africa, differing from you only in the colour of their skins, are so dear to you, and you begrudge so little the twenty millions you have paid on their behalf, that you love to have a memento of them continually in your sight. jim crow is the representative of that injured race, and as such is the idol of your populace! see how they all sing his praises!--how they imitate his peculiarities!--how they repeat his name in their moments of leisure and relaxation! they even carve images of him to adorn their hearths, that his cause and his sufferings may never be forgotten! oh, philanthropic england!--oh, vanguard of civilization!" such are a few of the peculiarities of the london multitude, when no riot, no execution, no murder, no balloon, disturbs the even current of their thoughts. these are the whimseys of the mass--the harmless follies by which they unconsciously endeavour to lighten the load of care which presses upon their existence. the wise man, even though he smile at them, will not altogether withhold his sympathy, and will say, "let them enjoy their slang phrases and their choruses if they will; and if they cannot be happy, at least let them be merry." to the englishman, as well as to the frenchman of whom beranger sings, there may be some comfort in so small a thing as a song, and we may, own with him that "au peuple attriste ce qui rendra la gaite, c'est la gaudriole! o gue! c'est la gaudriole!" the o.p. mania. and these things bred a great combustion in the town. wagstaffe's "apparition of mother haggis." the acrimonious warfare carried on for a length of time by the playgoers of london against the proprietors of covent-garden theatre, is one of the most singular instances upon record of the small folly which will sometimes pervade a multitude of intelligent men. carried on at first from mere obstinacy by a few, and afterwards for mingled obstinacy and frolic by a greater number, it increased at last to such a height, that the sober dwellers in the provinces held up their hands in astonishment, and wondered that the people of london should be such fools. as much firmness and perseverance displayed in a better cause, might have achieved important triumphs; and we cannot but feel regret, in recording this matter, that so much good and wholesome energy should have been thrown away on so unworthy an object. but we will begin with the beginning, and trace the o. p. mania from its source. on the night of the th of september, , the old theatre of covent-garden was totally destroyed by fire. preparations were immediately made for the erection of a more splendid edifice, and the managers, harris and the celebrated john philip kemble, announced that the new theatre should be without a rival in europe. in less than three months, the rubbish of the old building was cleared away, and the foundation-stone of the new one laid with all due ceremony by the duke of sussex. with so much celerity were the works carried on that, in nine months more, the edifice was completed, both without and within. the opening night was announced for the th of september , within two days of a twelvemonth since the destruction of the original building. but the undertaking had proved more expensive than the committee anticipated. to render the pit entrance more commodious, it had been deemed advisable to remove a low public-house that stood in the way. this turned out a matter of no little difficulty, for the proprietor was a man well skilled in driving a hard bargain. the more eager the committee showed themselves to come to terms with him for his miserable pot-house, the more grasping he became in his demands for compensation. they were ultimately obliged to pay him an exorbitant sum. added to this, the interior decorations were on the most costly scale; and mrs. siddons, and other members of the kemble family, together with the celebrated italian singer, madame catalani, had been engaged at very high salaries. as the night of opening drew near, the committee found that they had gone a little beyond their means; and they issued a notice, stating that, in consequence of the great expense they had been at in building the theatre, and the large salaries they had agreed to pay, to secure the services of the most eminent actors, they were under the necessity of fixing the prices of admission at seven shillings to the boxes and four shillings to the pit, instead of six shillings and three and sixpence, as heretofore. this announcement created the greatest dissatisfaction. the boxes might have borne the oppression, but the dignity of the pit was wounded. a war-cry was raised immediately. for some weeks previous to the opening, a continual clatter was kept up in clubs and coffee-rooms, against what was considered a most unconstitutional aggression on the rights of play-going man. the newspapers assiduously kept up the excitement, and represented, day after day, to the managers the impolicy of the proposed advance. the bitter politics of the time were disregarded, and kemble and covent-garden became as great sources of interest as napoleon and france. public attention was the more fixed upon the proceedings at covent-garden, since it was the only patent theatre then in existence, drury-lane theatre having also been destroyed by fire in the month of february previous. but great as was the indignation of the lovers of the drama at that time, no one could have anticipated the extraordinary lengths to which opposition would be carried. first night, september th.--the performances announced were the tragedy of "macbeth" and the afterpiece of "the quaker." the house was excessively crowded (the pit especially) with persons who had gone for no other purpose than to make a disturbance. they soon discovered another grievance to add to the list. the whole of the lower, and three-fourths of the upper tier of boxes, were let out for the season; so that those who had paid at the door for a seat in the boxes, were obliged to mount to a level with the gallery. here they were stowed into boxes which, from their size and shape, received the contemptuous, and not inappropriate designation of pigeon-holes. this was considered in the light of a new aggression upon established rights; and long before the curtain drew up, the managers might have heard in their green-room the indignant shouts of "down with the pigeon-holes!"--"old prices for ever!" amid this din the curtain rose, and mr. kemble stood forward to deliver a poetical address in honour of the occasion. the riot now began in earnest; not a word of the address was audible, from the stamping and groaning of the people in the pit. this continued, almost without intermission, through the five acts of the tragedy. now and then, the sublime acting of mrs. siddons, as "the awful woman," hushed the noisy multitude into silence, in spite of themselves: but it was only for a moment; the recollection of their fancied wrongs made them ashamed of their admiration, and they shouted and hooted again more vigorously than before. the comedy of munden in the afterpiece met with no better reception; not a word was listened to, and the curtain fell amid still increasing uproar and shouts of "old prices!" some magistrates, who happened to be present, zealously came to the rescue, and appeared on the stage with copies of the riot act. this ill-judged proceeding made the matter worse. the men of the pit were exasperated by the indignity, and strained their lungs to express how deeply they felt it. thus remained the war till long after midnight, when the belligerents withdrew from sheer exhaustion. second night.--the crowd was not so great; all those who had gone on the previous evening to listen to the performances, now stayed away, and the rioters had it nearly all to themselves. with the latter, "the play was not the thing," and macheath and polly sang in "the beggar's opera" in vain. the actors and the public appeared to have changed sides--the audience acted, and the actors listened. a new feature of this night's proceedings was the introduction of placards. several were displayed from the pit and boxes, inscribed in large letters with the words, "old prices." with a view of striking terror, the constables who had been plentifully introduced into the house, attacked the placard-bearers, and succeeded, after several severe battles, in dragging off a few of them to the neighbouring watch-house, in bow street. confusion now became worse and worse confounded. the pitites screamed themselves hoarse; while, to increase the uproar, some mischievous frequenters of the upper regions squeaked through dozens of cat-calls, till the combined noise was enough to blister every tympanum in the house. third night.--the appearance of several gentlemen in the morning at the bar of the bow street police office, to answer for their riotous conduct, had been indignantly commented upon during the day. all augured ill for the quiet of the night. the performances announced were "richard the third" and "the poor soldier," but the popularity of the tragedy could not obtain it a hearing. the pitites seemed to be drawn into closer union by the attacks made upon them, and to act more in concert than on the previous nights. the placards were, also, more numerous; not only the pit, but the boxes and galleries exhibited them. among the most conspicuous, was one inscribed, "john bull against john kemble.--who'll win?" another bore "king george for ever! but no king kemble." a third was levelled against madame catalani, whose large salary was supposed to be one of the causes of the increased prices, and was inscribed "no foreigners to tax us--we're taxed enough already." this last was a double-barrelled one, expressing both dramatic and political discontent, and was received with loud cheers by the pitites. the tragedy and afterpiece were concluded full two hours before their regular time; and the cries for mr. kemble became so loud, that the manager thought proper to obey the summons. amid all these scenes of uproar he preserved his equanimity, and was never once betrayed into any expression of petulance or anger. with some difficulty he obtained a hearing. he entered into a detail of the affairs of the theatre, assuring the audience at the same time of the solicitude of the proprietors to accommodate themselves to the public wish. this was received with some applause, as it was thought at first to manifest a willingness to come back to the old prices, and the pit eagerly waited for the next sentence, that was to confirm their hopes. that sentence was never uttered, for mr. kemble, folding his arms majestically, added, in his deep tragic voice, "ladies and gentlemen, i wait here to know what you want!" immediately the uproar was renewed, and became so tremendous and so deafening, that the manager, seeing the uselessness of further parley, made his bow and retired. a gentleman then rose in the boxes and requested a hearing. he obtained it without difficulty. he began by inveighing in severe terms against the pretended ignorance of mr. kemble, in asking them so offensively what they wanted, and concluded by exhorting the people never to cease their opposition until they brought down the prices to their old level. the speaker, whose name was understood to be leigh, then requested a cheer for the actors, to show that no disrespect was intended them. the cheer was given immediately. a barrister of the name of smythe then rose to crave another hearing for mr. kemble. the manager stood forth again, calm, unmoved, and severe. "ladies and gentlemen," said he, "i wait here to know your wishes." mr. leigh, who took upon himself, "for that night only," the character of popular leader, said, the only reply he could give was one in three words, "the old prices." hereat the shouts of applause again rose, till the building rang. still serene amid the storm, the manager endeavoured to enter into explanations. the men of the pit would hear nothing of the sort. they wanted entire and absolute acquiescence. less would not satisfy them; and, as mr. kemble only wished to explain, they would not hear a word. he finally withdrew amid a noise to which babel must have been comparatively silent. fourth night.--the rioters were more obstinate than ever. the noises were increased by the addition of whistles, bugle-horns, and watchmen's rattles, sniffling, snorting, and clattering from all parts of the house. human lungs were taxed to the uttermost, and the stamping on the floor raised such a dust as to render all objects but dimly visible. in placards, too, there was greater variety. the loose wits of the town had all day been straining their ingenuity to invent new ones. among them were, "come forth, o kemble! come forth and tremble!" "foolish john kemble, we'll make you tremble!" and "no cats! no catalani! english actors for ever!" those who wish to oppose a mob successfully, should never lose their temper. it is a proof of weakness which masses of people at once perceive, and never fail to take advantage of. thus, when the managers unwisely resolved to fight the mob with their own weapons, it only increased the opposition it was intended to allay. a dozen pugilists, commanded by a notorious boxer of the day, were introduced into the pit, to use the argumentum ad hominem to the rioters. continual scuffles ensued: but the invincible resolution of the playgoers would not allow them to quail; it rather aroused them to renewed opposition, and a determination never to submit or yield. it also strengthened their cause, by affording them further ground of complaint against the managers. the performances announced on the bills were the opera of "love in a village," and "who wins?" but the bills had it all to themselves, for neither actors nor public were much burthened with them. the latter, indeed, afforded some sport. the title was too apt to the occasion to escape notice, and shouts of "who wins? who wins?" displaced for a time the accustomed cry of old prices. after the fall of the curtain, mr. leigh, with another gentleman, again spoke, complaining bitterly of the introduction of the prize-fighters, and exhorting the public never to give in. mr. kemble was again called forward; but when he came, the full tide of discord ran so strongly against him that, being totally unable to stem it, he withdrew. each man seemed to shout as if he had been a stentor; and when his lungs were wearied, took to his feet and stamped, till all the black coats in his vicinity became grey with dust. at last the audience were tired out, and the theatre was closed before eleven o'clock. fifth night.--the play was coleman's amusing comedy of "john bull." there was no diminution of the uproar. every note on the diapason of discord was run through. the prize-fighters, or hitites as they were called, mustered in considerable numbers, and the battles between them and the pitites were fierce and many. it was now, for the first time, that the letters o.p. came into general use as an abbreviation of the accustomed watchword of old prices. several placards were thus inscribed; and, as brevity is so desirable in shouting, the mob adopted the emendation. as usual, the manager was called for. after some delay he came forward, and was listened to with considerable patience. he repeated, in respectful terms, the great loss that would be occasioned to the proprietors by a return to the old prices, and offered to submit a statement of their accounts to the eminent lawyers, sir vicary gibbs and sir thomas plumer; the eminent merchants, sir francis baring and mr. angerstein; and mr. whitmore, the governor of the bank of england. by their decision as to the possibility of carrying on the theatre at the old prices, he would consent to be governed, and he hoped the public would do the same. this reasonable proposition was scouted immediately. not even the high and reputable names he had mentioned were thought to afford any guarantee for impartiality. the pitites were too wrong-headed to abate one iota of their pretensions; and they had been too much insulted by the prize-fighters in the manager's pay, to show any consideration for him, or agree to any terms he might propose. they wanted full acquiescence, and nothing less. thus the conference broke off, and the manager retired amid a storm of hisses. an irish gentleman, named o'reilly, then stood up in one of the boxes. with true irish gallantry, he came to the rescue of an ill-used lady. he said he was disgusted at the attacks made upon madame catalani, the finest singer in the world, and a lady inestimable in private life. it was unjust, unmanly, and un-english to make the innocent suffer for the guilty; and he hoped this blot would be no longer allowed to stain a fair cause. as to the quarrel with the manager, he recommended them to persevere. they were not only wronged by his increased prices, but insulted by his boxers, and he hoped, that before they had done with him, they would teach him a lesson he would not soon forget. the gallant hibernian soon became a favourite, and sat down amid loud cheers. sixth night.--no signs of a cessation of hostilities on the one side, or of a return to the old prices on the other. the playgoers seemed to grow more united as the managers grew more obstinate. the actors had by far the best time of it; for they were spared nearly all the labour of their parts, and merely strutted on the stage to see how matters went on, and then strutted off again. notwithstanding the remonstrance of mr. o'reilly on the previous night, numerous placards reflecting upon madame catalani were exhibited. one was inscribed with the following doggrel:-- "seventeen thousand a-year goes pat, to kemble, his sister, and madame cat." on another was displayed, in large letters, "no compromise, old prices, and native talent!" some of these were stuck against the front of the boxes, and others were hoisted from the pit on long poles. the following specimens will suffice to show the spirit of them; wit they had none, or humour either, although when they were successively exhibited, they elicited roars of laughter:-- "john kemble alone is the cause of this riot; when he lowers his prices, john bull will be quiet." "john kemble be damn'd, we will not be cramm'd." "squire kemble begins to tremble." the curtain fell as early as nine o'clock, when there being loud calls for mr. kemble, he stood forward. he announced that madame catalani, against whom so unjustifiable a prejudice had been excited, had thrown up her engagement rather than stand in the way of any accommodation of existing differences. this announcement was received with great applause. mr. kemble then went on to vindicate himself and co-proprietors from the charge of despising public opinion. no assertion, he assured them, could be more unjust. they were sincerely anxious to bring these unhappy differences to a close, and he thought he had acted in the most fair and reasonable manner in offering to submit the accounts to an impartial committee, whose decision, and the grounds for it, should be fully promulgated. this speech was received with cheering, but interrupted at the close by some individuals, who objected to any committee of the manager's nomination. this led to a renewal of the uproar, and it was some time before silence could be obtained. when, at last, he was able to make himself heard, he gave notice, that until the decision of the committee had been drawn up, the theatre should remain closed. immediately every person in the pit stood up, and a long shout of triumph resounded through the house, which was heard at the extremity of bow street. as if this result had been anticipated, a placard was at the same moment hoisted, inscribed, "here lies the body of new price, an ugly brat and base born, who expired on the rd of september , aged six days.--requiescat in pace!" mr. kemble then retired, and the pitites flung up their hats in the air, or sprang over the benches, shouting and hallooing in the exuberance of their joy; and thus ended the first act of this popular farce. the committee ultimately chosen differed from that first named, alderman sir charles price, bart. and mr. silvester, the recorder of london, being substituted for sir francis baring and sir vicary gibbs. in a few days they had examined the multitudinous documents of the theatre, and agreed to a report which was published in all the newspapers, and otherwise distributed. they stated the average profits of the six preceding years at and / per cent, being only and / per cent. beyond the legal interest of money, to recompense the proprietors for all their care and enterprise. under the new prices they would receive and / per cent. profit; but if they returned to the old prices, they would suffer a loss of fifteen shillings per cent. upon their capital. under these circumstances, they could do no other than recommend the proprietors to continue the new prices. this report gave no satisfaction. it certainly convinced the reasonable, but they, unfortunately, were in a minority of one to ten. the managers, disregarding the outcry that it excited, advertised the recommencement of the performances for wednesday the th of october following. they endeavoured to pack the house with their friends, but the sturdy o.p. men were on the alert, and congregated in the pit in great numbers. the play was "the beggar's opera," but, as on former occasions, it was wholly inaudible. the noises were systematically arranged, and the actors, seeing how useless it was to struggle against the popular feeling, hurried over their parts as quickly as they could, and the curtain fell shortly after nine o'clock. once more the manager essayed the difficult task of convincing madness by appealing to reason. as soon as the din of the rattles and post-horns would permit him to speak, he said, he would throw himself on the fairness of the most enlightened metropolis in the world. he was sure, however strongly they might feel upon the subject, they would not be accessory to the ruin of the theatre, by insisting upon a return to the former prices. notwithstanding the little sop he had thrown out to feed the vanity of this roaring cerberus, the only answer he received was a renewal of the noise, intermingled with shouts of "hoax! hoax! imposition!" mr. o'reilly, the gallant friend of madame catalani, afterwards addressed the pit, and said no reliance could be placed on the report of the committee. the profits of the theatre were evidently great: they had saved the heavy salary of madame catalani; and by shutting out the public from all the boxes but the pigeon-holes, they made large sums. the first and second tiers were let at high rents to notorious courtesans, several of whom he then saw in the house; and it was clear that the managers preferred a large revenue from this impure source to the reasonable profits they would receive from respectable people. loud cheers greeted this speech; every eye was turned towards the boxes, and the few ladies in them immediately withdrew. at the same moment, some inveterate petite hoisted a large placard, on which was inscribed, "we lads of the pit will never submit." several others were introduced. one of them was a caricature likeness of mr. kemble, asking, "what do you want?" with a pitite replying, "the old prices, and no pigeon-holes!" others merely bore the drawing of a large key, in allusion to a notorious house in the neighbourhood, the denizens of which were said to be great frequenters of the private boxes. these appeared to give the managers more annoyance than all the rest, and the prize-fighters made vigorous attacks upon the holders of them. several persons were, on this night, and indeed nearly every night, taken into custody, and locked up in the watchhouse. on their appearance the following morning, they were generally held to bail in considerable sums to keep the peace. this proceeding greatly augmented the animosity of the pit. it would be useless to detail the scenes of confusion which followed night after night. for about three weeks the war continued with unabated fury. its characteristics were nearly always the same. invention was racked to discover new noises, and it was thought a happy idea when one fellow got into the gallery with a dustman's bell, and rang it furiously. dogs were also brought into the boxes, to add their sweet voices to the general uproar. the animals seemed to join in it con amore, and one night a large mastiff growled and barked so loudly, as to draw down upon his exertions three cheers from the gratified pitites. so strong did the popular enthusiasm run in favour of the row, that well-dressed ladies appeared in the boxes with the letters o. p. on their bonnets. o. p. hats for the gentlemen were still more common, and some were so zealous in the cause, as to sport waistcoats with an o embroidered upon one flap and a p on the other. o.p. toothpicks were also in fashion; and gentlemen and ladies carried o.p. handkerchiefs, which they waved triumphantly whenever the row was unusually deafening. the latter suggested the idea of o. p. flags, which were occasionally unfurled from the gallery to the length of a dozen feet. sometimes the first part of the night's performances were listened to with comparative patience, a majority of the manager's friends being in possession of the house. but as soon as the half-price commenced, the row began again in all its pristine glory. at the fall of the curtain it soon became customary to sing "god save the king," the whole of the o.p.'s joining in loyal chorus. sometimes this was followed by "rule britannia;" and, on two or three occasions, by a parody of the national anthem, which excited great laughter. a verse may not be uninteresting as a specimen. "o johnny bull, be true, confound the prices new, and make them fall! curse kemble's politics, frustrate his knavish tricks, on thee our hopes we fix, t' upset them all!" this done, they scrambled over the benches, got up sham fights in the pit, or danced the famous o.p. dance. the latter may as well be described here: half a dozen, or a dozen fellows formed in a ring, and stamped alternately with the right and left foot, calling out at regular intervals, o. p.--o. p. with a drawling and monotonous sound. this uniformly lasted till the lights were put out, when the rioters withdrew, generally in gangs of ten or twenty, to defend themselves from sudden attacks on the part of the constables. an idea seemed about this time to break in upon them, that notwithstanding the annoyance they caused the manager, they were aiding to fill his coffers. this was hinted at in some of the newspapers, and the consequence was, that many stayed away to punish him, if possible, under the silent system. but this did not last long. the love of mischief was as great an incentive to many of them as enmity to the new prices. accidental circumstances also contributed to disturb the temporary calm. at the westminster quarter-sessions, on the th of october, bills of indictment were preferred against forty-one persons for creating a disturbance and interrupting the performances of the theatre. the grand jury ignored twenty-seven of the bills, left two undecided, and found true bills against twelve. the latter exercised their right of traverse till the ensuing sessions. the preferment of these bills had the effect of re-awakening the subsiding excitement. another circumstance about the same time gave a still greater impetus to it, and furnished the rioters with a chief, round whom they were eager to rally. mr. clifford, a barrister, appeared in the pit on the night of the st of october, with the letters o. p. on his hat. being a man of some note, he was pounced upon by the constables, and led off to bow street police office, where brandon, the box-keeper, charged him with riotous and disorderly conduct. this was exactly what clifford wanted. he told the presiding magistrate, a mr. read, that he had purposely displayed the letters on his hat, in order that the question of right might be determined before a competent tribunal. he denied that he had committed any offence, and seemed to manifest so intimate an acquaintance with the law upon the subject, that the magistrate, convinced by his reasoning, ordered his immediate dismissal, and stated that he had been taken into custody without the slightest grounds. the result was made known in the theatre a few minutes afterwards, where mr. clifford, on his appearance victorious, was received with reiterated huzzas. on his leaving the house, he was greeted by a mob of five or six hundred persons, who had congregated outside to do him honour as he passed. from that night the riots may be said to have recommenced, and "clifford and o. p." became the rallying cry of the party. the officious box-keeper became at the same time the object of the popular dislike, and the contempt with which the genius and fine qualities of mr. kemble would not permit them to regard him, was fastened upon his underling. so much ill-feeling was directed towards the latter, that at this time a return to the old prices, unaccompanied by his dismissal, would not have made the manager's peace with the pitites. in the course of the few succeeding weeks, during which the riots continued with undiminished fury, o. p. medals were struck, and worn in great numbers in the theatre. a few of the ultra-zealous even wore them in the streets. a new fashion also came into favour for hats, waistcoats, and handkerchiefs, on which the mark, instead of the separate letters o and p, was a large o, with a small p in the middle of it: thus, xxxxxxxxx x x x xxx x x x x x x xxx x x x x x x x x x xxxxxxxxx the managers, seeing that mr. clifford was so identified with the rioters, determined to make him responsible. an action was accordingly brought against him and other defendants in the court of king's bench. on the th of november, the attorney-general moved, before lord ellenborough, for a rule to show cause why a criminal information should not be filed against clifford for unlawfully conspiring with certain others to intimidate the proprietors of covent-garden theatre, and force them, to their loss and detriment, to lower their prices of admission. the rule was granted, and an early day fixed for the trial. in the mean time, these proceedings kept up the acerbity of the o. p.s, and every night at the fall of the curtain, three groans were given for john kemble and three cheers for john bull. it was during this year that the national jubilee was celebrated, in honour of the fiftieth year of the reign of george iii. when the riots had reached their fiftieth night, the o. p.s also determined to have a jubilee. all their previous efforts in the way of roaring, great as they were, were this night outdone, and would have continued long after "the wee short hour," had not the managers wisely put the extinguisher upon them and the lights about eleven o'clock. pending the criminal prosecution against himself, mr. clifford brought an action for false imprisonment against brandon. the cause was fixed for trial in the court of common pleas, on the th of december, before lord chief-justice mansfield. from an early hour in the morning all the avenues leading to the court were thronged with an eager multitude; all london was in anxiety for the resuit. so dense was the crowd, that counsel found the greatest difficulty in making their way into court. mr. sergeant best was retained on the part of the plaintiff, and mr. sergeant shepherd for the defence. the defendant put two pleas upon the record; first, that he was not guilty, and secondly, that he was justified. sergeant best, in stating the plaintiff's case, blamed the managers for all the disturbances that had taken place, and contended that his client, in affixing the letters o. p. to his hat, was not guilty of any offence. even if he had joined in the noises, which he had not, his so doing would not subject him to the penalties for rioting. several witnesses were then called to prove the capture of mr. clifford, the hearing of the case before the magistrate at bow street, and his ultimate dismissal. sergeant shepherd was heard at great length on the other side, and contended that his client was perfectly justified in taking into custody a man who was inciting others to commit a breach of the peace. the lord chief-justice summed up, with an evident bias in favour of the defendant. he said an undue apprehension of the rights of an audience had got abroad. even supposing the object of the rioters to be fair and legal, they were not authorized to carry it by unfair means. in order to constitute a riot, it was not necessary that personal violence should be committed, and it seemed to him that the defendant had not acted in an improper manner in giving into custody a person who, by the display of a symbol, was encouraging others to commit a riot. the jury retired to consider their verdict. the crowd without and within the court awaited the result in feverish suspense. half an hour elapsed, when the jury returned with a verdict for the plaintiff--damages, five pounds. the satisfaction of the spectators was evident upon their countenances, that of the judge expressed the contrary feeling. turning to the foreman of the jury, his lordship asked upon which of the two points referred to them, namely, the broad question, whether a riot had been committed, and, if committed, whether the plaintiff had participated in it, they had found their verdict? the foreman stated, that they were all of opinion generally that the plaintiff had been illegally arrested. this vague answer did not satisfy his lordship, and he repeated his question. he could not, however, obtain a more satisfactory reply. evidently vexed at what he deemed the obtuseness or partiality of the jury, he turned to the bar, and said, that a spirit of a mischievous and destructive nature was abroad, which, if not repressed, threatened awful consequences. the country would be lost, he said, and the government overturned, if such a spirit were encouraged; it was impossible it could end in good. time, the destroyer and fulfiller of predictions, has proved that his lordship was a false prophet. the harmless o. p. war has been productive of no such dire results. it was to be expected that after this triumph, the war in the pit would rage with redoubled acrimony. a riot beginning at half-price would not satisfy the excited feelings of the o. p.s on the night of such a victory. long before the curtain drew up, the house was filled with them, and several placards were exhibited, which the constables and friends of the managers strove, as usual, to tear into shreds. one of them, which met this fate, was inscribed, "success to o.p.! a british jury for ever!" it was soon replaced by another of a similar purport. it is needless to detail the uproar that ensued; the jumping, the fighting, the roaring, and the howling. for nine nights more the same system was continued; but the end was at hand. on the th a grand dinner was given at the crown and anchor tavern, to celebrate the victory of mr. clifford. "the reprobators of managerial insolence," as they called themselves, attended in considerable numbers; and mr. clifford was voted to the chair. the cloth had been removed, and a few speeches made, when the company were surprised by a message that their arch-enemy himself solicited the honour of an audience. it was some time ere they could believe that mr. kemble had ventured to such a place. after some parley the manager was admitted, and a conference was held. a treaty was ultimately signed and sealed, which put an end to the long-contested wars of o.p., and restored peace to the drama. all this time the disturbance proceeded at the theatre with its usual spirit. it was now the sixty-sixth night of its continuance, and the rioters were still untired--still determined to resist to the last. in the midst of it a gentleman arrived from the crown and anchor, and announced to the pit that mr. kemble had attended the dinner, and had yielded at last to the demand of the public. he stated, that it had been agreed upon between him and the committee for defending the persons under prosecution, that the boxes should remain at the advanced price; that the pit should be reduced to three shillings and sixpence; that the private boxes should be done away with; and that all prosecutions, on both sides, should be immediately stayed. this announcement was received with deafening cheers. as soon as the first burst of enthusiasm was over, the o. p.s became anxious for a confirmation of the intelligence, and commenced a loud call for mr. kemble. he had not then returned from the crown and anchor; but of this the pitites were not aware, and for nearly half an hour they kept up a most excruciating din. at length the great actor made his appearance, in his walking dress, with his cane in hand, as he had left the tavern. it was a long time before he could obtain silence. he apologized in the most respectful terms for appearing before them in such unbecoming costume, which was caused solely by his ignorance that he should have to appear before them that night. after announcing, as well as occasional interruptions would allow, the terms that had been agreed upon, he added, "in order that no trace or recollection of the past differences, which had unhappily prevailed so long, should remain, he was instructed by the proprietors to say, that they most sincerely lamented the course that had been pursued, and engaged that, on their parts, all legal proceedings should forthwith be put a stop to." the cheering which greeted this speech was interrupted at the close by loud cries from the pit of "dismiss brandon," while one or two exclaimed, "we want old prices generally,--six shillings for the boxes." after an ineffectual attempt to address them again upon this point, mr. kemble made respectful and repeated obeisances, and withdrew. the noises still continued, until munden stood forward, leading by the hand the humbled box-keeper, contrition in his looks, and in his hands a written apology, which he endeavoured to read. the uproar was increased threefold by his presence, and, amid cries of "we won't hear him!" "where's his master?" he was obliged to retire. mr. harris, the son of kemble's co-manager, afterwards endeavoured to propitiate the audience in his favour; but it was of no avail; nothing less than his dismissal would satisfy the offended majesty of the pit. amid this uproar the curtain finally fell, and the o. p. dance was danced for the last time within the walls of covent garden. on the following night it was announced that brandon had resigned his situation. this turned the tide of popular ill-will. the performances were "the wheel of fortune," and an afterpiece. the house was crowded to excess; a desire to be pleased was manifest on every countenance, and when mr. kemble, who took his favourite character of penruddock, appeared upon the stage, he was greeted with the most vehement applause. the noises ceased entirely, and the symbols of opposition disappeared. the audience, hushed into attention, gave vent to no sounds but those of admiration for the genius of the actor. when, in the course of his part, he repeated the words, "so! i am in london again!" the aptness of the expression to the circumstances of the night, was felt by all present, and acknowledged by a round of boisterous and thrice repeated cheering. it was a triumphant scene for mr. kemble after his long annoyances. he had achieved a double victory. he had, not only as a manager, soothed the obstinate opposition of the play-goers, but as an actor he had forced from one of the largest audiences he had ever beheld, approbation more cordial and unanimous than he had ever enjoyed before. the popular favour not only turned towards him; it embraced everybody connected with the theatre, except the poor victim, brandon. most of the favourite actors were called before the curtain to make their bow, and receive the acclamations of the pit. at the close of the performances, a few individuals, implacable and stubborn, got up a feeble cry of "old prices for the boxes;" but they were quickly silenced by the reiterated cheers of the majority, or by cries of "turn them out!" a placard, the last of its race, was at the same time exhibited in the front of the pit, bearing, in large letters, the words "we are satisfied." thus ended the famous wars of o. p., which, for a period of nearly three months, had kept the metropolis in an uproar. and after all, what was the grand result? as if the whole proceeding had been a parody upon the more destructive, but scarcely more sensible wars recorded in history, it was commenced in injustice, carried on in bitterness of spirit, and ended, like the labour of the mountain, in a mouse. the abatement of sixpence in the price of admission to the pit, and the dismissal of an unfortunate servant, whose only fault was too much zeal in the service of his employers,--such were the grand victories of the o. p.'s. the thugs, or phansigars. orribili favelle--parole di dolor.--dante. among the black deeds which superstition has imposed as duties upon her wretched votaries, none are more horrible than the practices of the murderers, who, under the name of thugs, or phansigars, have so long been the scourge of india. for ages they have pursued their dark and dreadful calling, moulding assassination into a science, or extolling it as a virtue, worthy only to be practised by a race favoured of heaven. of late years this atrocious delusion has excited much attention, both in this country and in india; an attention which, it is to be hoped, will speedily lead to the uprooting of a doctrine so revolting and anti-human. although the british government has extended over hindostan for so long a period, it does not appear that europeans even suspected the existence of this mysterious sect until the commencement of the present century. in the year , a gang of thugs, laden with the plunder of murdered travellers, was accidentally discovered. the inquiries then set on foot revealed to the astonished government a system of iniquity unparalleled in the history of man. subsequent investigation extended the knowledge; and by throwing light upon the peculiar habits of the murderers, explained the reason why their crimes had remained so long undiscovered. in the following pages will be found an epitome of all the information which has reached europe concerning them, derived principally from dr. sherwood's treatise upon the subject, published in , and the still more valuable and more recent work of mr. sleeman, entitled the "ramaseeana; or, vocabulary of the peculiar language of the thugs." the followers of this sect are called thugs, or t'hugs, and their profession thuggee. in the south of india they are called phansigars: the former word signifying "a deceiver;" and the latter, "a strangler." they are both singularly appropriate. the profession of thuggee is hereditary, and embraces, it is supposed, in every part of india, a body of at least ten thousand individuals, trained to murder from their childhood; carrying it on in secret and in silence, yet glorying in it, and holding the practice of it higher than any earthly honour. during the winter months, they usually follow some reputable calling, to elude suspicion; and in the summer, they set out in gangs over all the roads of india, to plunder and destroy. these gangs generally contain from ten to forty thugs, and sometimes as many as two hundred. each strangler is provided with a noose, to despatch the unfortunate victim, as the thugs make it a point never to cause death by any other means. when the gangs are very large, they divide into smaller bodies; and each taking a different route, they arrive at the same general place of rendezvous to divide the spoil. they sometimes travel in the disguise of respectable traders; sometimes as sepoys or native soldiers; and at others, as government officers. if they chance to fall in with an unprotected wayfarer, his fate is certain. one thug approaches him from behind, and throws the end of a sash round his neck; the other end is seized by a second at the same instant, crossed behind the neck, and drawn tightly, while with their other hand the two thugs thrust his head forward to expedite the strangulation: a third thug seizes the traveller by the legs at the same moment, and he is thrown to the ground, a corpse before he reaches it. but solitary travellers are not the prey they are anxious to seek. a wealthy caravan of forty or fifty individuals has not unfrequently been destroyed by them; not one soul being permitted to escape. indeed, there is hardly an instance upon record of any one's escape from their hands, so surely are their measures taken, and so well do they calculate beforehand all the risks and difficulties of the undertaking. each individual of the gang has his peculiar duty allotted to him. upon-approaching a town, or serai, two or three, known as the soothaes, or "inveiglers," are sent in advance to ascertain if any travellers are there; to learn, if possible, the amount of money or merchandize they carry with them, their hours of starting in the morning, or any other particulars that may be of use. if they can, they enter into conversation with them, pretend to be travelling to the same place, and propose, for mutual security, to travel with them. this intelligence is duly communicated to the remainder of the gang. the place usually chosen for the murder is some lonely part of the road in the vicinity of a jungle, and the time, just before dusk. at given signals, understood only by themselves, the scouts of the party station themselves in the front, in the rear, and on each side, to guard against surprise. a strangler and assistant strangler, called bhurtote and shamshea, place themselves, the one on the right, and the other on the left of the victim, without exciting his suspicion. at another signal the noose is twisted, drawn tightly by a strong hand at each extremity, and the traveller, in a few seconds, hurried into eternity. ten, twelve, twenty, and in some instances, sixty persons have been thus despatched at the same moment. should any victim, by a rare chance, escape their hands, he falls into those of the scouts who are stationed within hearing, who run upon him and soon overpower him. their next care is to dispose of the bodies. so cautious are they to prevent detection, that they usually break all the joints to hasten decomposition. they then cut open the body to prevent it swelling in the grave and causing fissures in the soil above, by which means the jackals might be attracted to the spot, and thereby lead to discovery. when obliged to bury the body in a frequented district, they kindle a fire over the grave to obliterate the traces of the newly turned earth. sometimes the grave-diggers of the party, whose office, like that of all the rest, is hereditary, are despatched to make the graves in the morning at some distant spot, by which it is known the travellers will pass. the stranglers, in the mean time, journey quietly with their victims, conversing with them in the most friendly manner. towards nightfall they approach the spot selected for their murder; the signal is given, and they fall into the graves that have been ready for them since day-break. on one occasion, related by captain sleeman, a party of fifty-nine people, consisting of fifty-two men and seven women, were thus simultaneously strangled, and thrown into the graves prepared for them in the morning. some of these travellers were on horseback and well armed, but the thugs, who appear to have been upwards of two hundred in a gang, had provided against all risk of failure. the only one left alive of all that numerous party, was an infant four years old, who was afterwards initiated into all the mysteries of thuggee. if they cannot find a convenient opportunity for disposing of the bodies, they carry them for many miles, until they come to a spot secure from intrusion, and to a soil adapted to receive them. if fear of putrefaction admonishes them to use despatch, they set up a large screen or tent, as other travellers do, and bury the body within the enclosure, pretending, if inquiries are made, that their women are within. but this only happens when they fall in with a victim unexpectedly. in murders which they have planned previously, the finding of a place of sepulture is never left to hazard. travellers who have the misfortune to lodge in the same choultry or hostelry, as the thugs, are often murdered during the night. it is either against their creed to destroy a sleeper, or they find a difficulty in placing the noose round the neck of a person in a recumbent position. when this is the case, the slumberer is suddenly aroused by the alarm of a snake or a scorpion. he starts to his feet, and finds the fatal sash around his neck.--he never escapes. in addition to these thugs who frequent the highways, there are others, who infest the rivers, and are called pungoos. they do not differ in creed, but only in a few of their customs, from their brethren on shore. they go up and down the rivers in their own boats, pretending to be travellers of consequence, or pilgrims, proceeding to, or returning from benares, allahabad, or other sacred places. the boatmen, who are also thugs, are not different in appearance from the ordinary boatmen on the river. the artifices used to entice victims on board are precisely similar to those employed by the highway thugs. they send out their "inveiglers" to scrape acquaintance with travellers, and find out the direction in which they are journeying. they always pretend to be bound for the same place, and vaunt the superior accommodation of the boat by which they are going. the travellers fall into the snare, are led to the thug captain, who very often, to allay suspicion, demurs to take them, but eventually agrees for a moderate sum. the boat strikes off into the middle of the stream; the victims are amused and kept in conversation for hours by their insidious foes, until three taps are given on the deck above. this is a signal from the thugs on the look-out that the coast is clear. in an instant the fatal noose is ready, and the travellers are no more. the bodies are then thrown, warm and palpitating, into the river, from a hole in the side of the boat, contrived expressly for the purpose. a river thug, who was apprehended, turned approver, to save his own life, and gave the following evidence relative to the practices of his fraternity:--"we embarked at rajmahul. the travellers sat on one side of the boat, and the thugs on the other; while we three (himself and two "stranglers,") were placed in the stern, the thugs on our left, and the travellers on our right. some of the thugs, dressed as boatmen, were above deck, and others walking along the bank of the river, and pulling the boat by the joon, or rope, and all, at the same time, on the look-out. we came up with a gentleman's pinnace and two baggage-boats, and were obliged to stop, and let them go on. the travellers seemed anxious; but were quieted by being told that the men at the rope were tired, and must take some refreshment. they pulled out something, and began to eat; and when the pinnace had got on a good way, they resumed their work, and our boat proceeded. it was now afternoon; and, when a signal was given above, that all was clear, the five thugs who sat opposite the travellers sprang in upon them, and, with the aid of others, strangled them. having done this, they broke their spinal bones, and then threw them out of a hole made at the side, into the river, and kept on their course; the boat being all this time pulled along by the men on the bank." that such atrocities as these should have been carried on for nearly two centuries without exciting the attention of the british government, seems incredible. but our wonder will be diminished when we reflect upon the extreme caution of the thugs, and the ordinary dangers of travelling in india. the thugs never murder a man near his own home, and they never dispose of their booty near the scene of the murder. they also pay, in common with other and less atrocious robbers, a portion of their gains to the polygars, or native authorities of the districts in which they reside, to secure protection. the friends and relatives of the victims, perhaps a thousand miles off, never surmise their fate till a period has elapsed when all inquiry would be fruitless, or, at least, extremely difficult. they have no clue to the assassins, and very often impute to the wild beasts of the jungles the slaughter committed by that wilder beast, man. there are several gradations through which every member of the fraternity must regularly pass before he arrives at the high office of a bhurtote, or strangler. he is first employed as a scout--then as a sexton--then as a shumseea, or holder of hands, and lastly as a bhurtote. when a man who is not of thug lineage, or who has not been brought up from his infancy among them, wishes to become a strangler, he solicits the oldest, and most pious and experienced thug, to take him under his protection and make him his disciple; and under his guidance he is regularly initiated. when he has acquired sufficient experience in the lower ranks of the profession, he applies to his gooroo, or preceptor, to give the finishing grace to his education, and make a strangler of him. an opportunity is found when a solitary traveller is to be murdered; and the tyro, with his preceptor, having seen that the proposed victim is asleep, and in safe keeping till their return, proceed to a neighbouring field and perform several religious ceremonies, accompanied by three or four of the oldest and steadiest members of the gang. the gooroo first offers up a prayer to the goddess, saying, "oh, kalee! kun-kalee! bhud-kalee! oh, kalee! maha-kalee! calkutta walee! if it seems fit to thee that the traveller now at our lodging should die by the hands of this thy slave, vouchsafe us thy good omen." they then sit down and watch for the good omen; and if they receive it within half an hour, conclude that their goddess is favourable to the claims of the new candidate for admission. if they have a bad omen, or no omen at all, some other thug must put the traveller to death, and the aspirant must wait a more favourable opportunity, purifying himself in the mean time by prayer and humiliation for the favour of the goddess. if the good omen has been obtained, they return to their quarters; and the gooroo takes a handkerchief and, turning his face to the west, ties a knot at one end of it, inserting a rupee, or other piece of silver. this knot is called the goor khat, or holy knot, and no man who has not been properly ordained is allowed to tie it. the aspirant receives it reverently in his right hand from his gooroo, and stands over the sleeping victim, with a shumseea, or holder of hands, at his side. the traveller is aroused, the handkerchief is passed around his neck, and, at a signal from the gooroo, is drawn tight till the victim is strangled; the shumseea holding his hands to prevent his making any resistance. the work being now completed, the bhurtote (no longer an aspirant, but an admitted member) bows down reverently in the dust before his gooroo, and touches his feet with both his hands, and afterwards performs the same respect to his relatives and friends who have assembled to witness the solemn ceremony. he then waits for another favourable omen, when he unties the knot and takes out the rupee, which he gives to his gooroo, with any other silver which he may have about him. the gooroo adds some of his own money, with which he purchases what they call goor, or consecrated sugar, when a solemn sacrifice is performed, to which all the gang are invited. the relationship between the gooroo and his disciple is accounted the most holy that can be formed, and subsists to the latest period of life. a thug may betray his father, but never his gooroo. dark and forbidding as is the picture already drawn, it will become still darker and more repulsive, when we consider the motives which prompt these men to systematic murder. horrible as their practices would be, if love of plunder alone incited them, it is infinitely more horrible to reflect that the idea of duty and religion is joined to the hope of gain, in making them the scourges of their fellows. if plunder were their sole object, there would be reason to hope, that when a member of the brotherhood grew rich, he would rest from his infernal toils; but the dismal superstition which he cherishes tells him never to desist. he was sent into the world to be a slayer of men, and he religiously works out his destiny. as religiously he educates his children to pursue the same career, instilling into their minds, at the earliest age, that thuggee is the noblest profession a man can follow, and that the dark goddess they worship will always provide rich travellers for her zealous devotees. the following is the wild and startling legend upon which the thugs found the divine origin of their sect. they believe that, in the earliest ages of the world, a gigantic demon infested the earth, and devoured mankind as soon as they were created. he was of so tall a stature, that when he strode through the most unfathomable depths of the great sea, the waves, even in tempest, could not reach above his middle. his insatiable appetite for human flesh almost unpeopled the world, until bhawanee, kalee, or davee, the goddess of the thugs, determined to save mankind by the destruction of the monster. nerving herself for the encounter, she armed herself with an immense sword; and, meeting with the demon, she ran him through the body. his blood flowed in torrents as he fell dead at her feet; but from every drop there sprang up another monster, as rapacious and as terrible as the first. again the goddess upraised her massive sword, and hewed down the hellish brood by hundreds; but the more she slew, the more numerous they became. every drop of their blood generated a demon; and, although the goddess endeavoured to lap up the blood ere it sprang into life, they increased upon her so rapidly, that the labour of killing became too great for endurance. the perspiration rolled down her arms in large drops, and she was compelled to think of some other mode of exterminating them. in this emergency, she created two men out of the perspiration of her body, to whom she confided the holy task of delivering the earth from the monsters. to each of the men she gave a handkerchief, and showed them how to kill without shedding blood. from her they learned to tie the fatal noose; and they became, under her tuition, such expert stranglers, that, in a very short space of time, the race of demons became extinct. when there were no more to slay, the two men sought the great goddess, in order to return the handkerchiefs. the grateful bhawanee desired that they would retain them, as memorials of their heroic deeds; and in order that they might never lose the dexterity that they had acquired in using them, she commanded that, from thenceforward, they should strangle men. these were the two first thugs, and from them the whole race have descended. to the early thugs the goddess was more direct in her favours, than she has been to their successors. at first, she undertook to bury the bodies of all the men they slew and plundered, upon the condition that they should never look back to see what she was doing. the command was religiously observed for many ages, and the thugs relied with implicit faith upon the promise of bhawanee; but as men became more corrupt, the ungovernable curiosity of a young thug offended the goddess, and led to the withdrawal of a portion of her favour. this youth, burning with a desire to see how she made her graves, looked back, and beheld her in the act, not of burying, but of devouring, the body of a man just strangled. half of the still palpitating remains was dangling over her lips. she was so highly displeased that she condemned the thugs, from that time forward, to bury their victims themselves. another account states that the goddess was merely tossing the body in the air; and that, being naked, her anger was aggravated by the gaze of mortal eyes upon her charms. before taking a final leave of her devotees, she presented them with one of her teeth for a pickaxe, one of her ribs for a knife, and the hem of her garment for a noose. she has not since appeared to human eyes. the original tooth having been lost in the lapse of ages, new pickaxes have been constructed, with great care and many ceremonies, by each considerable gang of thugs, to be used in making the graves of strangled travellers. the pickaxe is looked upon with the utmost veneration by the tribe. a short account of the process of making it, and the rites performed, may be interesting, as showing still further their gloomy superstition. in the first place, it is necessary to fix upon a lucky day. the chief thug then instructs a smith to forge the holy instrument: no other eye is permitted to see the operation. the smith must engage in no other occupation until it is completed, and the chief thug never quits his side during the process. when the instrument is formed, it becomes necessary to consecrate it to the especial service of bhawnee. another lucky day is chosen for this ceremony, care being had in the mean time that the shadow of no earthly thing fall upon the pickaxe, as its efficacy would be for ever destroyed. a learned thug then sits down; and turning his face to the west, receives the pickaxe in a brass dish. after muttering some incantation, he throws it into a pit already prepared for it, where it is washed in clear water. it is then taken out, and washed again three times; the first time in sugar and water, the second in sour milk, and the third in spirits. it is then dried, and marked from the head to the point with seven red spots. this is the first part of the ceremony: the second consists in its purification by fire. the pickaxe is again placed upon the brass dish, along with a cocoa-nut, some sugar, cloves, white sandal-wood, and other articles. a fire of the mango tree, mixed with dried cow-dung, is then kindled; and the officiating thug, taking the pickaxe with both hands, passes it seven times through the flames. it now remains to be ascertained whether the goddess is favourable to her followers. for this purpose, the cocoa-nut is taken from the dish and placed upon the ground. the officiating thug, turning to the spectators, and holding the axe uplifted, asks, "shall i strike?" assent being given, he strikes the nut with the but-end of the axe, exclaiming, "all hail! mighty davee! great mother of us all!" the spectators respond, "all hail! mighty davee! and prosper thy children, the thugs!" if the nut is severed at the first blow, the goddess is favourable; if not, she is unpropitious: all their labour is thrown away, and the ceremony must be repeated upon some more fitting occasion. but if the sign be favourable, the axe is tied carefully in a white cloth and turned towards the west, all the spectators prostrating themselves before it. it is then buried in the earth, with its point turned in the direction the gang wishes to take on their approaching expedition. if the goddess desires to warn them that they will be unsuccessful, or that they have not chosen the right track, the thugs believe that the point of the axe will veer round, and point to the better way. during an expedition, it is entrusted to the most prudent and exemplary thug of the party: it is his care to hold it fast. if by any chance he should let it fall, consternation spreads through the gang: the goddess is thought to be offended; the enterprise is at once abandoned; and the thugs return home in humiliation and sorrow, to sacrifice to their gloomy deity, and win back her estranged favour. so great is the reverence in which they hold the sacred axe, that a thug will never break an oath that he has taken upon it. he fears that, should he perjure himself, his neck would be so twisted by the offended bhawanee as to make his face turn to his back; and that, in the course of a few days, he would expire in the most excruciating agonies. the thugs are diligent observers of signs and omens. no expedition is ever undertaken before the auspices are solemnly taken. upon this subject captain sleeman says, "even the most sensible approvers, who have been with me for many years, as well hindoos as mussulmans, believe that their good or ill success depended upon the skill with which the omens were discovered and interpreted, and the strictness with which they were observed and obeyed. one of the old sindouse stock told me, in presence of twelve others, from hydrabad, behar, the dooah, oude, rajpootana, and bundelcund, that, had they not attended to these omens, they never could have thrived as they did. in ordinary cases of murder, other men seldom escaped punishment, while they and their families had, for ten generations, thrived, although they had murdered hundreds of people. 'this,' said the thug,' could never have been the case had we not attended to omens, and had not omens been intended for us. there were always signs around us to guide us to rich booty, and warn us of danger, had we been always wise enough to discern them and religious enough to attend to them.' every thug present concurred with him from his soul." a thug, of polished manners and great eloquence, being asked by a native gentleman, in the presence of captain sleeman, whether he never felt compunction in murdering innocent people, replied with a smile that he did not. "does any man," said he, "feel compunction in following his trade? and are not all our trades assigned us by providence?" he was then asked how many people he had killed with his own hands in the course of his life? "i have killed none," was the reply. "what! and have you not been describing a number of murders in which you were concerned?" "true; but do you suppose that i committed them? is any man killed by man's killing? is it not the hand of god that kills, and are we not the mere instruments in the hands of god?" upon another occasion, sahib, an approver, being asked if he had never felt any pity or compunction at murdering old men or young children, or persons with whom he had sat and conversed, and who had told him, perchance, of their private affairs--their hopes and their fears, their wives and their little ones? replied unhesitatingly that he never did. from the time that the omens were favourable, the thugs considered all the travellers they met as victims thrown into their hands by their divinity to be killed. the thugs were the mere instruments in the hands of bhawanee to destroy them. "if we did not kill them," said sahib, "the goddess would never again be propitious to us, and we and our families would be involved in misery and want. if we see or hear a bad omen, it is the order of the goddess not to kill the travellers we are in pursuit of, and we dare not disobey." as soon as an expedition has been planned, the goddess is consulted. on the day chosen for starting, which is never during the unlucky months of july, september, and december, nor on a wednesday or thursday; the chief thug of the party fills a brass jug with water, which he carries in his right hand by his side. with his left, he holds upon his breast the sacred pickaxe, wrapped carefully in a white cloth, along with five knots of turmeric, two copper, and one silver coin. he then moves slowly on, followed by the whole of the gang, to some field or retired place, where halting, with his countenance turned in the direction they wish to pursue, he lifts up his eyes to heaven, saying, "great goddess! universal mother! if this, our meditated expedition, be fitting in thy sight, vouchsafe to help us, and give us the signs of thy approbation." all the thugs present solemnly repeat the prayer after their leader, and wait in silence for the omen. if within half an hour they see pilhaoo, or good omen on the left, it signifies that the goddess has taken them by the left hand to lead them on; if they see the thibaoo, or omen on the right, it signifies that she has taken them by the right hand also. the leader then places the brazen pitcher on the ground and sits down beside it, with his face turned in the same direction for seven hours, during which time his followers make all the necessary preparations for the journey. if, during this interval, no unfavourable signs are observed, the expedition advances slowly, until it arrives at the bank of the nearest stream, when they all sit down and eat of the goor, or consecrated sugar. any evil omens that are perceived after this ceremony may be averted by sacrifices; but any evil omens before, would at once put an end to the expedition. among the evil omens are the following:--if the brazen pitcher drops from the hand of the jemadar or leader, it threatens great evil either to him or to the gang--sometimes to both. if they meet a funeral procession, a blind man, a lame man, an oil-vender, a carpenter, a potter, or a dancing-master, the expedition will be dangerous. in like manner it is unlucky to sneeze, to meet a woman with an empty pail, a couple of jackals, or a hare. the crossing of their path by the latter is considered peculiarly inauspicious. its cry at night on the left is sometimes a good omen, but if they hear it on the right it is very bad; a warning sent to them from bhawanee that there is danger if they kill. should they disregard this warning, and led on by the hope of gain, strangle any traveller, they would either find no booty on him, or such booty as would eventually lead to the ruin and dispersion of the gang. bhawanee would be wroth with her children; and causing them to perish in the jungle, would send the hares to drink water out of their skulls. the good omens are quite as numerous as the evil. it promises a fortunate expedition, if, on the first day, they pass through a village where there is a fair. it is also deemed fortunate, if they hear wailing for the dead in any village but their own. to meet a woman with a pitcher full of water upon her head, bodes a prosperous journey and a safe return. the omen is still more favourable if she be in a state of pregnancy. it is said of the thugs of the jumaldehee and lodaha tribes, that they always make the youngest thug of the party kick the body of the first person they strangle, five times on the back, thinking that it will bring them good luck. this practice, however, is not general. if they hear an ass bray on the left at the commencement of an expedition, and an another soon afterwards on the right, they believe that they shall be supereminently successful, that they shall strangle a multitude of travellers, and find great booty. after every murder a solemn sacrifice, called the tuponee, is performed by all the gang. the goor, or consecrated sugar, is placed upon a large cloth or blanket, which is spread upon the grass. beside it is deposited the sacred pickaxe, and a piece of silver for an offering. the jemadar, or chief of the party, together with all the oldest and most prudent thugs, take their places upon the cloth, and turn their faces to the west. those inferior thugs who cannot find room upon the privileged cloth, sit round as close to it as possible. a pit is then dug, into which the jemadar pours a small quantity of the goor, praying at the same time that the goddess will always reward her followers with abundant spoils. all the thugs repeat the prayer after him. he then sprinkles water upon the pickaxe, and puts a little of the goor upon the head of every one who has obtained a seat beside him on the cloth. a short pause ensues, when the signal for strangling is given, as if a murder were actually about to be committed, and each thug eats his goor in solemn silence. so powerful is the impression made upon their imagination by this ceremony, that it almost drives them frantic with enthusiasm. captain sleeman relates, that when he reproached a thug for his share in a murder of great atrocity, and asked him whether he never felt pity; the man replied, "we all feel pity sometimes; but the goor of the tuponee changes our nature; it would change the nature of a horse. let any man once taste of that goor, and he will be a thug, though he know all the trades and have all the wealth in the world. i never was in want of food; my mother's family was opulent, and her relations high in office. i have been high in office myself, and became so great a favourite wherever i went that i was sure of promotion; yet i was always miserable when absent from my gang, and obliged to return to thuggee. my father made me taste of that fatal goor, when i was yet a mere boy; and if i were to live a thousand years i should never be able to follow any other trade." the possession of wealth, station in society, and the esteem of his fellows, could not keep this man from murder. from his extraordinary confession we may judge of the extreme difficulty of exterminating a sect who are impelled to their horrid practises, not only by the motives of self-interest which govern mankind in general, but by a fanaticism which fills up the measure of their whole existence. even severity seems thrown away upon the followers of this brutalizing creed. to them, punishment is no example; they have no sympathy for a brother thug who is hung at his own door by the british government, nor have they any dread of his fate. their invariable idea is, that their goddess only suffers those thugs to fall into the hands of the law, who have contravened the peculiar observances of thuggee, and who have neglected the omens she sent them for their guidance. to their neglect of the warnings of the goddess they attribute all the reverses which have of late years befallen their sect. it is expressly forbidden, in the creed of the old thugs, to murder women or cripples. the modern thugs have become unscrupulous upon this point, murdering women, and even children, with unrelenting barbarity. captain sleeman reports several conversations upon this subject, which he held at different times with thugs, who had been taken prisoners, or who had turned approvers. one of them, named zolfukar, said, in reply to the captain, who accused him of murdering women, "yes, and was not the greater part of feringeea's and my gang seized, after we had murdered the two women and the little girl, at manora, in ? and were we not ourselves both seized soon after? how could we survive things like that? our ancestors never did such things." lalmun, another thug, in reply to a similar question, said, "most of our misfortunes have come upon us for the murder of women. we all knew that they would come upon us some day, for this and other great sins. we were often admonished, but we did not take warning; and we deserve our fates." in speaking of the supposed protection which their goddess had extended to them in former times, zolfukar said:--"ah! we had some regard for religion then! we have lost it since. all kinds of men have been made thugs, and all classes of people murdered, without distinction; and little attention has been paid to omens. how, after this, could we think to escape? * * * * davee never forsook us till we neglected her!" it might be imagined that men who spoke in this manner of the anger of the goddess, and who, even in custody, showed so much veneration for their unhappy calling, would hesitate before they turned informers, and laid bare the secrets and exposed the haunts of their fellows:--among the more civilized ruffians of europe, we often find the one chivalrous trait of character, which makes them scorn a reward that must be earned by the blood of their accomplices: but in india there is no honour among thieves. when the approvers are asked, if they, who still believe in the power of the terrible goddess davee, are not afraid to incur her displeasure by informing of their fellows, they reply, that davee has done her worst in abandoning them. she can inflict no severer punishment, and therefore gives herself no further concern about her degenerate children. this cowardly doctrine is, however, of advantage to the government that seeks to put an end to the sect, and has thrown a light upon their practices, which could never have been obtained from other sources. another branch of the thug abomination has more recently been discovered by the indefatigable captain sleeman. the followers of this sect are called megpunnas, and they murder travellers, not to rob them of their wealth, but of their children, whom they afterwards sell into slavery. they entertain the same religious opinions as the thugs, and have carried on their hideous practices, and entertained their dismal superstition, for about a dozen years with impunity. the report of captain sleeman states, that the crime prevails almost exclusively in delhi and the native principalities, or rajpootana of ulwar and bhurtpore; and that it first spread extensively after the siege of bhurtpore in . the original thugs never or rarely travel with their wives; but the megpunnas invariably take their families with them, the women and children being used to inveigle the victims. poor travellers are always chosen by the megpunnas as the objects of their murderous traffic. the females and children are sent on in advance to make acquaintance with emigrants or beggars on the road, travelling with their families, whom they entice to pass the night in some secluded place, where they are afterwards set upon by the men, and strangled. the women take care of the children. such of them as are beautiful are sold at a high price to the brothels of delhi, or other large cities; while the boys and ill-favoured girls are sold for servants at a more moderate rate. these murders are perpetrated perhaps five hundred miles from the homes of the unfortunate victims; and the children thus obtained, deprived of all their relatives, are never inquired after. even should any of their kin be alive, they are too far off and too poor to institute inquiries. one of the members, on being questioned, said the megpunnas made more money than the other thugs; it was more profitable to kill poor people for the sake of their children, than rich people for their wealth. megpunnaism is supposed by its votaries to be, like thuggee, under the immediate protection of the great goddess davee, or kalee, whose favour is to be obtained before the commencement of every expedition, and whose omens, whether of good or evil, are to be diligently sought on all occasions. the first apostle to whom she communicated her commands for the formation of the new sect, and the rules and ordinances by which it was to be guided, was called kheama jemadar. he was considered so holy a man, that the thugs and megpunnas considered it an extreme felicity to gaze upon and touch him. at the moment of his arrest by the british authorities, a fire was raging in the village, and the inhabitants gathered round him and implored him to intercede with his god, that the flames might be extinguished. the megpunna, says the tradition, stretched forth his hand to heaven, prayed, and the fire ceased immediately. there now only remain to be considered the exertions that have been made to remove from the face of india this purulent and disgusting sore. from the year until , the proceedings against thuggee were not carried on with any extraordinary degree of vigour; but, in the latter year, the government seems to have begun to act upon a settled determination to destroy it altogether. from to , both included, there were committed to prison, in the various presidencies, persons accused of this crime. of these, were hanged; transported; imprisoned for life; imprisoned for shorter periods; held to bail; and only acquitted. of the remainder, died in prison, before they were brought to trial, escaped, and turned approvers. one feringeea, a thug leader of great notoriety, was delivered up to justice in the year , in consequence of the reward of five hundred rupees offered for his apprehension by the government. he was brought before captain sleeman, at sangir, in the december of that year, and offered, if his life were spared, to give such information as would lead to the arrest of several extensive gangs which had carried on their murderous practices undetected for several years. he mentioned the place of rendezvous, for the following february, of some well organized gangs, who were to proceed into guzerat and candeish. captain sleeman appeared to doubt his information; but accompanied the thug to a mango grove, two stages from sangir, on the road to seronage. they reached this place in the evening, and in the morning feringeea pointed out three places in which he and his gang had, at different intervals, buried the bodies of three parties of travellers whom they had murdered. the sward had grown over all the spots, and not the slightest traces were to be seen that it had ever been disturbed. under the sod of captain sleeman's tent were found the bodies of the first party, consisting of a pundit and his six attendants, murdered in . another party of five, murdered in , were under the ground at the place where the captain's horses had been tied up for the night; and four brahmin carriers of the ganges water, with a woman, were buried under his sleeping tent. before the ground was moved, captain sleeman expressed some doubts; but feringeea, after looking at the position of some neighbouring trees, said he would risk his life on the accuracy of his remembrance. the workmen dug five feet without discovering the bodies; but they were at length found a little beyond that depth, exactly as the thug had described them. with this proof of his knowledge of the haunts of his brethren, feringeea was promised his liberty and pardon if he would aid in bringing to justice the many large gangs to which he had belonged, and which were still prowling over the country. they were arrested in the february following, at the place of rendezvous pointed out by the approver, and most of them condemned and executed. so far we learn from captain sleeman, who only brought down his tables to the close of the year . a writer in the "foreign quarterly review" furnishes an additional list of persons, committed to prison in , for being concerned in the murder and robbery of individuals. of these criminals, were sentenced to death, and to imprisonment for life, leaving , who were sentenced to transportation for life, or shorter periods of imprisonment, or who turned approvers, or died in gaol. not one of the whole number was acquitted. great as is this amount of criminals who have been brought to justice, it is to be feared that many years must elapse before an evil so deeply rooted can be eradicated. the difficulty is increased by the utter hopelessness of reformation as regards the survivors. their numbers are still calculated to amount to ten thousand persons, who, taking the average of three murders annually for each, as calculated by captain sleeman and other writers, murder every year thirty thousand of their fellow creatures. this average is said to be under the mark; but even if we were to take it at only a third of this calculation, what a frightful list it would be! when religion teaches men to go astray, they go far astray indeed! end of the first volume. internet archive (https://archive.org) note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustration. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) images of the original pages are available through internet archive. see https://archive.org/details/spiritland emmo transcriber's note: text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). [illustration: the spirit land.] the spirit land. by s. b. emmons. philadelphia: john e. potter and company. nos. and sansom street. entered according to act of congress, in the year , by l. p. crown & co., in the clerk's office of the district court of the district of massachusetts to the reader. this volume is intended as an antidote to a species of errors that have been rife in every age of the christian church. notwithstanding the disclosures the most high made of himself to his ancient people, they were yet prone to turn aside from the worship of the true god, to follow the lying spirits of the prophets of baal, and other deceivers, from the days of moses till the destruction of jerusalem. so, likewise, under the christian dispensation, there has been a succession of antichrists, until their name is _legion_, whose teachings have clouded the understandings and blinded the moral perceptions of men, subverting the faith of many whose mountains stood strong, and who had been counted the chosen people of god. the present is viewed as an age of _isms_. men have run mad, and are chasing phantoms. they are roaming round to find some fulcrum to overturn the church and the bible; they are imagining they are receiving utterances from heaven, when nothing is uttered but the vain fantasies of their own minds and hearts. it is the grossest fanaticism--fanaticism in its most frightful form, leading its unhappy victims, not unfrequently, to flagrant crimes, and to the most horrid of all--that of self-destruction. these pages are submitted to the public with the counsel of the wisest and best of all ages, that, amid the wily arts of the adversary, we should cling to the word of god, the bible of our fathers, as the only safe and infallible guide of faith and practice. note. we would here give credit to the principal works from which valuable and important matter has been selected for these pages: whitman's popular superstitions; upham's lectures upon witchcraft; christian freeman and family visitor; abercrombie on the intellectual powers; influence of the imagination upon the nervous system, by rev. grant powers; life of adam clarke; hayward's book of all religions; miller on the second coming of christ; borrow's gypsies of spain; stone on false prophets and christs; dickens's household words; capron and barron on the spirit knockings; dick on the improvement of society; revelations of a. j. davis; the great harmonia; rogers on human and mundane agents; miss crowe's night side of nature; spiritual telegraph, &c. as the work embraces a mass of facts of an absorbing and intensely interesting character, we trust that it will commend itself to an enlightened and judicious public. the author. contents. part first. introduction. the object of this work. page nursery tales of giants, dwarfs, ghosts, fairies, and witches.-- their effect upon juvenile minds.--a belief in ghosts still prevalent.--the excitability of the public mind.--ghost reported as having been seen in waltham, massachusetts. chapter i. origin of popular superstitions. ignorance of correct reasoning.--conclusions from particular facts.--water boiled by heat.--signs.--breaking a mirror.--gene ral conclusions from a few facts.--a victim to superstition in new hampshire.--how signs may be multiplied.--the design of the creator in endowing us with reason. chapter ii. inductive philosophy not understood. ignorance of it the cause of many superstitions.--lights seen in marshy grounds, &c.--supposed to be supernatural.--causes of these lights, and phenomena connected with them.--shrinking and swelling of pork in boiling.--cause.--supposed influence of the moon in making soap, grafting trees, cutting timber, &c.--lunar influence in matters of wedlock.--love not to be fed on moonshine. chapter iii. ignorance of the causes of dreams. fruitful source of superstitions.--opinions of ancient divines. --dreams related in the scriptures.--their object.--principles of mental philosophy applied to modern dreams.--examples of singular dreams.--dreams occasioned by sickness.--fulfilment of certain dreams.--causes of the same.--remarkable case of a german student.--case of a member of congress.--amusing case concerning a passage of scripture.--necessity of a pure conscience, and a careful attention to our stomachs. chapter iv. effects of the imagination on the nervous system. ignorance of it has given rise to many superstitions.--experiments of mesmer and deslon in paris.--singular developments.--trials at dr. franklin's house.--children uninfluenced by mesmeric operations. --magnetizing a tree in dr. franklin's garden.--experiments upon two females.--effect produced.--experiment upon a female by dr. sigault.--practice among the chinese.--girl frightened to death by a gypsy.--practice among the new zealanders.--killing others by incantation.--intercourse with departed spirits.--an account of perkins's metallic tractors.--their supposed influence in various diseases.--suspicions concerning them.--experiments with wooden tractors.--result of these experiments.--statements of a modern mesmerizer. chapter v. ignorance of mental philosophy. this ignorance a cause of many superstitions.--case of a person who slept in a bed room supposed to be haunted.--skeleton seen by moonlight.--apparition seen by dr. gregory.--case related by dr. conolly.--ship's crew frightened by an apparition.--young lady supposed to have been murdered by pirates.--cases of impressions connected with bodily disease.--phantasms in febrile diseases.--a farmer frightened to death by a light in the road.--a figure like death striking a lady in her side with a dart.--illusion of sight and hearing.--case of a lady who saw her absent husband standing by her side.--countenance of a friend seen in a mirror.--tunes heard.--inverted objects.--visions of the world of spirits.--case of baron swedenborg.--case of a lady in boston, who saw her deceased grandmother.--the phantom ship seen in new haven.--the science of optics.--of nauscopy.--cases of mirage. chapter vi. ignorance of true religion. god the supreme ruler of the universe.--the natural world governed by regular laws.--sign of the howling of a dog under the window.-- lucky and unlucky days.--sir matthew hale's opinion.--early laws of connecticut.--superstition of sailors.--timidity of voltaire.-- peace and happiness on all days.--how procured. chapter vii. belief in witchcraft. a witch as regarded by our fathers.--compact or agreement with the devil.--carried through the air on brooms and spits.--anointing their bodies with a magical ointment.--how to prepare the same.--singular ceremonies at the meetings of witches.--how they afflicted others. --the bewitched pins shown to grace greenwood.--mode of examining and trying witches.--witch catcher in england.--how he was arrested and condemned.--singular record on a church book in scotland.-- notice of the salem witchcraft.--how such superstitions are to be done away.--witches and wizards of modern times. chapter viii. necromancy and fortune telling. moll pitcher, the queen of the race.--her place of abode.--company that visited her.--member of a church sent to consult her.--casting out evil spirits in syria.--account of lady hester stanhope.--the astrologer of hopkinton, massachusetts.--chief characteristic of fortune seekers.--effects produced upon them. chapter ix. fairies, or wandering spirits, and gypsies. description of fairies, habits, localities, &c.--subterranean spirits in wales, called _knockers_.--the _brownies_ in scotland.--a farmer in ireland who was tormented by fairies.--method taken to appease their anger.--spenser's poem of the fairy queen.--gypsies and their employments.--casting the evil eye.--safeguard against it.--charm of the bible and key.--superstition called the _elf-shot_.--practice of poisoning animals, and the cure.--superstitions concerning the loadstone.--translation of st. luke into the gypsy tongue.-- singular notions of the gypsies concerning it.--condemned by the royal edict at madrid.--the gypsy choirs at moscow.--anecdote of madame catalini. chapter x. omens, charms, and divination. books published upon these things.--their injurious tendency.--a sample of their contents.--practice of boxers.--whistling in a storm at sea.--setting hens on an _odd_ number of eggs.--salutes of an _odd_ number of guns.--omen concerning the number _thirteen_. --methods of ascertaining who will be a future husband.--crossing of knives.--click of insects.--advent of comets. chapter xi. modern miracles. they partake of superstition.--instructions of the savior concerning them.--object of scripture miracles.--modern miracles not satisfactory. --judge howe's opinion concerning christianity.--times of miracles ceased. chapter xii. false prophets and christs. history of the prophet matthias.--his career in albany and new york. --his deceptions upon conspicuous individuals.--his arrest for alleged crimes.--account of john of leyden.--sketch of cochrane, and his impositions. chapter xiii. mormon superstition. account of the golden plates found by joseph smith.--their translation and publication in a volume.--peculiar style of the writings.--attempt at imitation.--mormon preachers speaking with new tongues.--increase of the doctrine, and why.--mormon cities not to be identified.--strong indications of fabrication.-- fluency and earnestness of their preachers.--traits of the cochranites.--effects produced upon their hearers.--an account of the _real_ origin of the mormon bible, and its author.--of joseph smith, jr., the mormon prophet.--his early characteristics. --exposure of the indecent ceremonies at nauvoo; as established by smith and others. chapter xiv. miller delusion. prophecies of mr. miller.--his computation of time.--management to suit his own particular views.--keeping the world standing thirty years on a simple _if_.--various blunders and mistakes. --confession of his errors.--false information respecting signs. --disappearance of stars.--of the aurora borealis.--shooting stars.--sun and moon turning to blood.--darkness of the sun.-- its cause.--remarkable appearances in various ages of the world. --opinion concerning halley's comet.--ignorance of the constitution of comets.--the comet of .--tests of signs that shall indicate the end of time.--scientific men stationed in various parts of the earth.--no such changes as have been spoken of by the second advent preachers, observed by them. chapter xv. intercourse with departed spirits. spirits, ghosts, and spectres seen in all ages.--account of the magic crystals, or divining glasses.--seeing spirits in egypt.-- lady blessington's crystal in england.--spirit of lord nelson described.--the latin language commonly used by spirits.--an account of spirits that live in the sun.--spirits conversing with human beings.--mode of communication by letters of fire, or large printed _capitals_.--interview with the spirit of _pharaoh_.--his present dwelling in the planet _jupiter_.-- information gleaned in conversation with him.--swedenborg's account of sir john franklin.--describes his situation, blocked up by _ice_.--spirits do not understand about _latitude_ and _longitude_.--description of the spirit of socrates, his dress, &c.--account of the emperor alexander in the spirit world.-- dickens's account of fashionable dupes in england.--the sciences of astrology and magic.--practices of high titled ladies in london.--account of famous conjurers, or fortune tellers.-- account of the "rappers," or "knocking spirits."--children frightened by their noises.--snapping of fingers, and clapping of hands, imitated by the spirits.--mrs. fox asks questions of a spirit.--answers given by a succession of _raps_.--account of a ghost that appeared in waltham, massachusetts.--conversation with the ghost by a gentleman.--said he had been murdered, and told by whom.--tones of the ghost, (unearthly,) its mode of walking, &c. --great excitement on account of the ghost.--mode of communication with the _rapping_ spirits.--tables and chairs moved, sounds heard, &c.--band of music, beating of the _bass drum_, and roar of artillery. --guitar played by unseen hands.--ladies' hair taken down and braided by spirits.--people touched by unseen hands.--how spirits produce the sounds of _music_.--how they make the _rapping_ noises. --account of an interview with the spirit of dr. franklin.-- sounds heard like trying the batteries in the telegraph office.-- occupation of franklin in the spirit world.--getting up a line of communication between the two worlds.--dr. franklin predicts great changes in the nineteenth century.--connection of _magnetism_ with the _spiritual rappings_.--clairvoyant interpreters between men and spirits.--spiritual postmasters, letter paper, and envelopes. --letters received from the spiritual worlds.--the _spirit journal_, in auburn, new york.--its pages edited, controlled, and superintended by _spirits_.--the _prophets_ and _apostles_ its conductors, acting under the lord supreme.--blunders and errors of the rapping spirits. --ignorant spirits.--mischief produced by them.--swedenborg's account of their stupidity.--how to distinguish the sounds made by an ignorant or an intelligent spirit.--wonderful precocity of infant spirits.--progression of spirits, both upwards and downwards.-- the spirit of dr. channing _deteriorated_ in the other world.-- theological teachings of the rapping spirits.--prophecy of swedenborg concerning the year .--noises of the _rappers_ indicative of the approach of his prediction.--are to be considered as _omens_ of a new advent.--compared with the miller prophecy of .--miracles, both of the rappers and the millerites.--a sick man and his bed taken up by spirits.--the body of a mr. gordon taken up by spiritual hands.--miracles wrought in favor of _millerism_.--miracles wrought in favor of _witchcraft_.-- millerites taken up by spiritual hands.--strange noises made by _spirits_ among the adventists.--houses shaken, mirrors shattered to pieces, furniture broken.--four women carried through the air on a _pole_.--testimony under oath respecting it.--account of a bewitched _ventriloquist_.--witches in . --what the editor of a boston journal says of them.--witches, ghosts, spooks, and hobgoblins, in all ages of the world.-- account of a haunted house in boston.--every window illuminated at midnight.--a young man frightened by the scene.--singular notion of the greenlanders respecting the cause of thunder, and of the aurora borealis.--notion of the ancients concerning the foundation of the earth.--of the mathematician kepler.-- performance of signor blitz.--effects produced by _ventriloquism_. --singular vibrations of the guitar.--spirit rappings considered as a new science.--noises heard by the wesley family, in . --noises heard by martin luther.--empty barrels and hogsheads tumbling down stairs.--information of past, present, and future events.--the fortune tellers in comparison with the spirit rappers. --spirits unwilling or unable to spell their own names.--spiritual communications on the decline.--contrast between the doings of ancient and modern spirits.--swedenborg's information concerning the spirit of melancthon.--a clairvoyant interview with tom paine. --account of an interview with mr. sunderland.--dialogue with a young lady.--interview with a clairvoyant medium in lowell.--facts respecting mesmeric operations.--people deceived by "sympathetic spirits."--judson j. hutchinson made insane.--exposure of the deception practised upon him.--davis's account of benjamin franklin.--dr. phelps concerning the "spirit rappers."--singular developments at his house.--how tables, chairs, &c., are moved by spirits.--exhibitions of "chin music" in london.--singular transactions in england, as related by dr. thomas dick.--tricks performed by joe collins of oxford.--spirits seen by the votaries of st. vitus, and the shakers of later times. chapter xvi. evil effects of popular superstitions. great waste of time.--ceremonies among the ancients.--practices in catholic countries.--injurious practices in protestant lands.--dreams, visions, signs, tricks, omens, &c.--great waste of human life.--account of the trial by _ordeal_.--murder of innocent persons.--belief in dreams and forewarnings.--modern miracles, appearances of the dead, &c.--unfavorable influence of a belief in dreams.--the death watch, new moon, &c.--predictions of nanny scott.--of the good mrs. taylor.--marriages on a stormy day.--practice of wedded couples.--moles on the wrong side of the body.--opening books, tricks, fortune telling.--practice of a lady in a clergyman's family.--disadvantageous matrimonial alliances.--anticipation of dreadful calamities.--practice of rev. john wesley.--temperaments of melancthon and luther.--luck, chance, fatality, &c.--saul and the witch of endor.--conjurers and impostors.--injury done to the cause of medicine.--king's touch in scrofula.--the _ninth_ son of a _ninth_ son.--the _seventh_ son of a _seventh_ son.--cure by the cold hands of a malefactor.--plaster on a pitchfork; polishing rusty nails. --a female heart made into pills for consumption.--heart taken out of a female in maine, and in waltham, massachusetts, and made into pills.--influence of the imagination.--account of a mr. austin, in vermont.--his singular mode of healing the sick. --account of the celebrated _rain-water_ doctor.--sketch of an _astrological_ physician in new york.--of valentine greataks and francisco bagnone.--momentary relief obtained, and why.-- injury done to the cause of religion.--account of the pharisees, compared to vipers and toads, and their numerous progeny.--how we may know a pharisee.--a young man catechized by our savior. --st. paul once a pharisee.--proof.--customs among the catholics. --practices of many protestants.--mistaken views upon religion. --views concerning satan.--satan _versus_ cotton mather.--professor stuart's views concerning the devil.--_periodical_ revivals of religion; the cause.--how to have a constant revival. chapter xvii. banishment of popular superstitions. how shall it be effected?--the proper use of our _reasoning faculties_.--the exercise of our understandings.--persevering self-discipline.--conduct towards believers in ghosts, signs, &c.--misconduct in families; trying tricks, &c.--how we should employ our time.--belief in an all-wise providence, as governor and controller of all events.--importance of a correct education of youth.--nursery tales and marvellous stories.--their baneful influence.--correct examples before children.--superstitious tales to be avoided.--attention to the means of education.-- immense value and importance of knowledge.--no lack of means to educate the young.--money foolishly wasted in various ways. --perseverance in laudable exertions.--the blessing of heaven to crown our labors. part second. miracle in springfield, massachusetts. miracle performed by spirits in springfield, massachusetts.--case of biological deception.--case of a "writing medium."--effects produced by pathetism.--incident related by miss martineau.-- travelling to other countries, and to other spheres.--singular feat by a boy of dr. phelps.--wonderful case of a lady in new jersey.--advice of hon. horace greely.--testimony of rev. dr. phelps. persons trained by a lecturer on magnetism. scene at east boston. "circle" at the house of mr. hoyt, at east boston.--effects of vital electricity.--imitating handwritings, writing poetry, music, &c. extract from the puritan recorder. facts related by a gentleman of maine.--renunciation of a spirit rapper.--murder committed at the instigation of "spirits."-- conflicting testimony concerning john thompson.--experiments of mr. kellogg, the table lifter.--discovery by dr. taylor, the writing medium.--renunciation of mr. cooley, of springfield, massachusetts.--attempt to murder a family in barre, massachusetts. --sacrifice of the innocent in heathen countries.--great danger in civilized communities.--reports concerning the burning of the lunatic asylum in maine.--testimony of professor stowe.-- reply of bingham to professor pond.--singular confessions of the reviewer.--intelligence said to be communicated by "spirits."-- vital electricity of embodied and disembodied spirits. extract from the home journal. star singers, concerts, parties, and lectures in the other spheres.--studies of french, italian, geology, chemistry, drawing, &c.--semi-clergymen, outsiders, or come-outers. foretelling future events. prediction concerning the ship staffordshire.--general pierce's election foretold by professor anderson's glass bell.--false predictions of the "spirits."--error committed by professor lester.--suggestion of a lady to a sick friend.--sentiments of alexander pope. visions, miracles, and wonders. sights, sounds, signs, miracles, maps, drawings, hieroglyphics. --talking cow in maine.--her prophecy.--proposition for _another_ "new church."--predictions concerning all other churches.-- opinions three hundred years ago.--fate of galileo. clairvoyant physicians. prescriptions from the dead.--power of the imagination.--wonderful efficacy of brown bread pills.--singular cure of palsy, by sir humphrey davy. style of "supernal" compositions. fishbough's new work.--fancy-captivating publications.--refined atheism.--transcendental nonsense.--false communications relating to patriots, statesmen, orators, and divines.--mountebank scenes of "psychology."--testimony of a. j. davis, upon the tricks of the spirit demonstrators.--concealments, misstatements, and exaggerations. mysterious phenomena, with their agents or causes. thumping noises in new jersey.--door opened as if struck by a mallet.--great excitement.--glass broken, &c.--knockings heard in new hackensack.--pile of lumber shaken; tables, chairs, stand, and candlestick thrown about.--bags of salt, tin ware, and cooking utensils thrown in a heap.--an english officer haunted by noises in the night.--heavy marble top tables poising themselves on two legs.--brass door knockers bewitched.--commotion among crockery, tin ware, &c.--firing a gun at noises in the walls. --tearing up floor to get at the noises.--suit brought for damages.--bed of a sick girl raised.--trembling of the house walls.--singular pranks in a factory.--jerking of the frames, and cylinder thrown at a distance.--alarm and flight of the operatives.--a chest with three men, and a man on a tub, taken up by an invisible power.--a chair broken between two men's hands.--an image seated on a stool, clad in white.--visions of beings like spirits.--knockings on the walls, and noises in the air.--a lady suspended by the tips of the fingers, as a magnet suspends a piece of iron.--electrical flashes from a lady's body.--knockings made to be heard at a distance.--quotation from a work by rev. t. hill, of waltham.--singular developments in new york.--freaks of a knob of a door bell.--fiery flashes, and fiery smacks, on kissing.--blows in the mouth from a speaking tube.-- account of two girls that could move tables without touching them. --effects of storms on raising tables.--electrical circles in cincinnati.--case of a lady in strasburg.--power of giving electrical shocks to persons at a distance.--singular effects of the northern lights on a lady. experiments in biology. chairs, tables, and persons moved.--biological table-liftings in east boston.--"mediums," as visible human operators.--resolve of the "rappers" at poughkeepsie.--the unseen agent that moves tables, beds, &c.--dancing plates, knives and forks, &c. faculty of imitation. delivering speeches; imitating orators.--case related by walter scott.--case of a man haunted by the devil.--effects of wine and heavy eating.--voice heard by judge edmonds.--lady in providence who writes music by "spirits."--diagram of the spheres, by a lady in a magnetic state. unseen letters and signatures. imitating unseen letters, signatures, and languages.--suspicions concerning professor bush.--singular feat attributed to spirits. --no difficulty in raising chairs or tables.--spirits shown by egyptian boys.--unbelief of practising "mediums."--school children forbidden to move tables, &c. a dancing light. dancing light seen in southboro', massachusetts.--_ignis fatuus_ seen by dr. derham.--corpusants seen by mariners.-- dampier's account of them. sailors' omens. sailors' omens and superstitions.--devil's power in stirring up winds.--losing a cat overboard, a bucket, or a mop. love charms. othello winning desdemona by conjuration.--execution of a young lady for giving a love powder.--her dying confession.--a charm or an allay for love. effects of a belief in a ghost. effects of a belief in the reality of ghosts.--case at the university at cambridge.--a student frightened to death. the invisible lady. the invisible lady in boston.--the invisible girl in london.-- joice heth, the india rubber woman.--professor grimes's discovery among the "rappers."--mrs. culver respecting the rochester rappers. sorcerers in the east. persons killed by the enemy's fires.--singular custom in java. singular metamorphoses. men turned into tigers by eating a certain root, and turned back again by eating another.--a tiger-man shot in the woods and recognized, after having devoured some of his neighbors.--account of the wolf mania in egypt and in brittany.--a husband that lived and died a wolf. pernicious errors relating to health. astrology.--vegetable oil of swallows, &c.--cleanliness, diet, &c.--ablution.--ventilation.--food.--quality of meats. the spirit land. introduction. the object of this treatise upon some of the various errors of the past and present ages is to explain their nature--investigate their origin--describe their injurious effects--and to offer and recommend the necessary measures for their banishment. most persons, even those who have been well educated, can call to mind the avidity with which, in their days of childhood, they listened to the nursery tales of giants, dwarfs, ghosts, fairies, and witches. the effects of these juvenile impressions are not easily effaced from the mind, and the impressions themselves are but rarely, if ever, forgotten. to doubt, in former times, the power of charms, and the veracity of omens, and ghost stories, was deemed little less than atheism. the terror caused by them imbittered the lives of persons of all ages. it either served to shut them out of their own houses, or deterred them from going abroad after it was dark. the room in which the head of a family died was for a long time untenanted; particularly if he died without a will, or was supposed to have entertained any peculiar religious opinions. if any disconsolate maiden, or love-crossed bachelor, became the instrument of their own death, the room where the fatal deed was committed was rendered forever uninhabitable, and not unfrequently nailed up. if a drunken farmer, returning from market, fell from his horse, and by the fall broke his own neck, that spot, ever after, was haunted and impassable. in truth, there was scarcely a by-lane or cross-way but had its ghost, which appeared in the shape of a headless cow or horse. ghosts of a higher degree rode in coaches, drawn by six headless horses, and driven by a headless coachman. as for the churchyards, the legitimate habitations of spectres, clothed all in white, the numbers who swarmed there equalled the living parishioners; and to pass such a place in the night was more perilous than the storming of badajos. confuted and ridiculed as these opinions have been, in later days, the seeds of them are still widely diffused, and at times attempt to spring up in all their earlier excess. in the year , crowds of men, women, and children flocked to the village of waltham, a few miles from boston, to see a ghost which was said to make its appearance towards midnight, walking to and fro in a turf meadow, declaring itself, in unearthly tones, to be the spirit of a murdered man, whose bones lay in a mud hole near by. the excitement spread many miles around, and hundreds from the city and neighboring towns hied to the spot, with eyes agape, to behold the solemn visitor from the spirit world. and such was the credulity inspired in the minds of the people, that a clergyman in the vicinity declared from his pulpit, on the following sabbath, that the awful crime of murder had been revealed by the spirit which had appeared in waltham! such is the _excitability_ of the mind, and its tendency (notwithstanding the light that has been scattered abroad) to give credence to all the vagaries and nonsense of the darker ages. chapter i. the origin of popular superstitions. ignorance of correct reasoning has undoubtedly given rise to many superstitions. inductive reasoning teaches us to infer general conclusions from particular facts which have come under our observation. this definition may be illustrated by an example. you know that water boils on the application of a certain degree of heat. you have seen this experiment tried many times without a single failure. you therefore conclude that water will always boil on the application of this degree of heat, although you have seen it applied but to a small portion of the water in creation. thus you draw this _general_ conclusion from the few _particular_ facts which you have witnessed. but had you noticed several failures in the trial, your conclusions would have been doubtful. and if the experiment had failed ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, you would have adopted an opposite conclusion. you would have said that the application of the specified degree of heat would not boil water. in this way, logical reasoning leads to the discovery of truth. now, apply this principle of sound reasoning to the whole mass of pretended _signs_. let me select one to show you the absurdity of believing in any. it is commonly reported that the breaking of a looking glass betokens death to some member of the family. this sign probably originated in the following manner: a death happened to follow the breaking of a mirror. some ignorant person immediately concluded that the breaking of the glass was a sure sign of death. the story soon spread among credulous people, and at length was handed down from generation to generation as an established truth. but you readily perceive the absurdity of forming this _general_ conclusion from _one_ or a _few_ particular facts. we all know that death does not follow the supposed sign oftener than once in a hundred times; and therefore the breaking of the glass is almost a sure sign that no death will immediately take place in the family. but as mirrors are always breaking, and people are always dying, it is not strange that the latter event should sometimes follow the former. it would be a miracle if it did not. but the events have no connection whatever with each other. the coincidence in any case is altogether accidental. we might with the same reason affirm that the breaking of a teakettle is the sign of death, or any thing else, as the breaking of a mirror. but the truth is, there is no sign in the case. it first originated in ignorance of correct reasoning, and has been perpetuated by the credulous. it is but a short time ago that a girl in exeter, n.h., broke a mirror. she believed that ill luck always followed such an event and therefore became seriously affected in her mind. finally, her strength failed, and she died a victim to her superstition. hence we perceive the great importance of a just conception and well-informed judgment upon such apparently trifling, yet oftentimes serious events, in their effects upon social and individual happiness. we have only to apply this principle of correct reasoning to every sign in existence, to find them to be superstitious. we shall find, upon investigation, that they are based upon no rational evidence, and consequently are not entitled to our belief or confidence. if they indicate any thing, it is something directly opposite to what is generally supposed, for they do not come to pass more than once in a hundred times, and therefore warrant a different conclusion. not only so. if you believe in the present pretended signs, you may make a million more equally good. a man quarrels after drinking a glass of wine; you may therefore say that taking a glass of wine is the sign of a quarrel. a man draws a prize in a lottery; you may say therefore that the purchase of a ticket is the sign of a fortune. a man dies after supper; you may say therefore that eating supper is the sign of death. in this you may multiply signs to infinity, and they will prove just as true as any now in existence. but our creator has endowed us with understanding. he has given us reason to regulate our belief by satisfactory evidence. and if we do this, we cannot believe in _any_ of the pretended signs. we must conclude that they have all originated in ignorance of correct reasoning, and are kept in remembrance by those who will not use their intellectual powers as their maker designed. chapter ii. inductive philosophy not understood. ignorance of inductive philosophy has given rise to many superstitions. by the means of inductive philosophy, we are enabled to trace effects to their true causes. for example: lights have frequently been seen dancing over marshy grounds, near tan-yards, and burying-places, and along the sea shore. credulous people have believed them to be the spirits of the uneasy dead. this belief must be considered superstitious, not having any foundation on rational evidence. philosophy teaches that these lights are occasioned by an inflammable gas, which arises from decayed animal and vegetable substances, and takes fire on coming in contact with atmospheric air. thus we may trace all effects to their true causes. many persons have supposed that pork killed in the increase of the moon would swell in boiling, while that killed in her wane would shrink. this opinion probably originated in the following manner: some person killed, at different periods of the moon, two hogs which had been born and fattened together. that killed in her increase swelled in boiling; while the other, killed in her wane, shrunk. he could conceive of no way to account for the facts but on the supposition of lunar influence. this conclusion was accordingly adopted, and at length became an established truth. yet there was no philosophy in forming this opinion from a few such facts. more experiments should have been tried; and they results would have shown that the real cause of the swelling and shrinking existed in the constitution of the animals. it would have been discovered that pork of fine and solid texture would commonly swell, whenever killed; while that of loose and coarse grain would as generally shrink. and the person would no more have thought of attributing the difference in his pork to the moon than to the spirit of bonaparte. let this philosophic principle be applied to this whole class of superstitions, and we shall arrive at similar results. there is the supposed influence of the moon on making soap, grafting trees, cutting timber, and also upon the fortunes of love-sick swains and maidens. the latter are directed to go out in the evening and stand over the bars of a gate, and, looking on the moon, repeat the following lines:-- "all hail to the moon! all hail to thee! i pray thee, good moon, reveal to me, this night, who my husband shall be." they must then go directly to bed, and will dream of their future husband. upon trial of the experiment, they will probably be inclined to consider it a dreamy notion altogether; for love is of too serious a nature to be fed upon mere _moonshine_. chapter iii. ignorance of the causes of dreams. ignorance of the causes of our dreams has given rise to many superstitions. ancient divines have told us that some of our dreams proceed from ourselves, others from the deity, and others again from the devil. we know, to be sure, from experience, that dreams proceed from ourselves in _some_, if not in all cases. we admit, however, that god has spoken to some of his dependent creatures by dreams; for we learn this from the holy scriptures. but such dreams were direct revelations for the accomplishment of some divine purpose. the volume of revelation was long since closed, and all that is essential to the present and eternal happiness of mankind is plainly revealed. there is therefore no necessity for any further communications from heaven; and the gospel does not authorize us to expect any. dreams may sometimes strike a conviction upon the mind, which our waking thoughts may fail to do. and they may sometimes have the appearance of being fulfilled; and yet there may be no necessity of supposing that god has made us the special organ of divine communications. our dreams, in such cases, may be explained upon the principles of mental philosophy, without resorting to the miraculous interposition of deity for an explanation. to say that the devil is the author of all our disagreeable dreams that happen generally when we are in some trouble of body, mind, or estate, is too absurd to believe. and it is specially unbecoming the followers of jesus to harbor an opinion so unbecoming in itself, so pernicious in its consequences, and so derogatory to the supreme ruler of the universe. the true doctrine is, that our dreams originate from ourselves. some are influenced by our bodily sensations. a person with a bottle of hot water at his feet dreams of ascending �tna; and he finds the heat of the ground almost insupportable. another kicks the bed clothes from his feet, and dreams of walking through snow banks, even in the summer season. some dreams are influenced by the state of our stomach and bowels. the hungry prisoner dreams of well-furnished tables and the pleasures of eating. the glutton dreams of a surfeit and its attendant unpleasant sensations. some dreams are influenced by our dispositions. the person of amiable temper and cheerful spirits is frequently refreshed with delightful scenes and visions of bliss; while those of morose, gloomy, irritable, and melancholy habits are generally harassed with those of a disagreeable and oppressive character. some dreams are influenced by the state of our health. sickness is usually productive of those of an unpleasant nature; while health secures those of an opposite description. a gentleman, mentioned by locke, was not sensible of dreaming till he had a fever, at the age of twenty-six or seven. some dreams are influenced by our waking thoughts. the mathematician solves difficult problems. the poet roves in elysian groves. the miser makes great bargains. the sensualist riots in the haunts of dissipation. the criminal sees the dungeon or the gallows. the awakened sinner beholds the flames of hell, or looks upon the sceptre of pardon; and the christian anticipates heavenly joy. strong mental emotions are sometimes embodied into a dream, which, by some natural coincidence, is fulfilled. a murderer, mentioned by mr. combe, dreamed of committing murder some years before the event took place. a clergyman on a visit to the city of edinburgh, from a distance in the country, was sleeping at an inn, when he dreamed of seeing a fire, and one of his children in the midst of it. he awoke with the impression, and instantly started for home. when he arrived within sight of his house, he found it on fire, and got there in time to assist in saving one of his children, who, in the alarm and confusion, had been left in a situation of danger. without calling in question the possibility of supernatural communications in such cases, this striking occurrence may perhaps be accounted for on simple and natural principles. let us suppose that the gentleman had a servant who had shown great carelessness in regard to fire, which had often given rise in his mind to a strong apprehension that he might set fire to the house. his anxiety might be increased by being from home, and the same circumstances might make the servant still more careless. let us further suppose that the gentleman, before going to bed, had, in addition to this anxiety, suddenly recollected that there was on that day, in the neighborhood of his house, some fair or periodical merry making, from which the servant was likely to return home in a state of intoxication. it was most natural that these impressions should be embodied into a dream of his house being on fire, and that the same circumstances might lead to the dream being fulfilled. the cause of a dream may sometimes be the cause of its fulfilment. a clergyman dreamed of preaching a sermon on a particular subject. in a few weeks, he delivered the discourse. his dream was therefore fulfilled. but his waking thoughts caused the dream, for he had meditated on this very subject; and they also caused its fulfilment, for he proceeded to write and deliver the result of his meditations. a belief in the supernatural origin of dreams sometimes leads to their fulfilment. a person dreams of approaching sickness. his fears and his imagination hasten on the calamity. a general, on the eve of battle, dreamed of a defeat. his belief in dreams deprived him of courage, and, of course, the enemy conquered. we have on record the case of a german student, who dreamed that he was to die at a certain hour on the next day. his friends found him in the morning making his will and arranging his affairs. as the time drew near, he had every appearance of a person near his end. every argument was used to shake his belief in the supernatural origin of his dream, but all to no effect. at last, the physician contrived to place the hands of the clock beyond the specified hour, and by this means saved the student's life. there are instances on record where death has actually ensued in consequence of such a belief. it has been produced by the wonderful power the mind possesses over the body. and there can be no doubt that believers in dreams often take the most direct means to hasten their fulfilment. the apparent fulfilment of dreams is sometimes merely accidental. the dream happens, and the event dreamed of soon follows; but the coincidence is altogether fortuitous. a member of congress informed a friend that he frequently dreamed of the death of some one of his children, while residing at washington. the whole scene would appear before him--the sickness, the death, and the burial; and this too several times the same night, and on successive nights. his anxiety for his family caused his dreams. now, it would have been nothing strange if a member of his family had died. but in this particular instance it was not the case. in this way, however, we are always dreaming of our absent relatives, and it would be singular if a death did not sometimes occur at the time of the dream. so on all other subjects. one event may follow the other, and yet the coincidence be perfectly accidental. there are occasionally some amusing cases of this kind. a person dreamed three times in one night that he must turn to the seventh verse of the fifth chapter of ecclesiastes, and he would find important instruction. he arose in the morning, and, referring to the specified passage, found these words: "_in the multitude of dreams there are divers vanities._" finally, the occasion of some dreams seems as yet inexplicable. but as we can account for so large a portion of them, it is rational to believe that the causes of the few mysterious ones will be hereafter satisfactorily explained. we think we are safe in believing that all our dreams are caused by some principle of our intellectual or animal nature. let us then pay no further regard to them than to aim by a pure conscience before god, and a careful attention to our stomachs and health, to have them refreshing and agreeable. chapter iv. effects of the imagination on the nervous system. ignorance of the influence of the imagination upon the nervous system has given rise to many superstitions. we will give a few statements of facts to establish and illustrate this position. some time previous to , a gentleman in paris, by the name of mesmer, professed to have discovered a universal remedy for all diseases; and this remedy consisted in being _magnetized_ under peculiar forms and circumstances. m. mesmer became so noted for his discovery, and he performed such extraordinary cures, that, in , the french king appointed a committee, consisting of four physicians and five members of the royal academy of sciences, to investigate this matter. the committee, as soon as they had examined the whole apparatus employed in magnetizing, and taken cognizance of the manoeuvres of mesmer, and his partner, deslon, proceeded to notice the symptoms of the patients while under the influence of magnetism. these were various in different individuals. some were calm and tranquil, and felt nothing; others were affected with coughing and spitting, with pains, heats, and perspirations; and some were agitated and tortured with convulsions. these convulsions were sometimes continued for three hours, accompanied with expectoration of a viscid phlegm, ejected by violent efforts, and sometimes streaked with blood. they had involuntary motions of the limbs, of the whole body, and spasms of the throat. their eyes wandered in wild motions; they uttered piercing shrieks, wept, laughed, and hiccoughed. the commissioners observed that the great majority of those thus effected were females, and that these exhibitions did not begin until they had been under the operation of magnetism one or two hours, and that, when one became affected, the rest were soon seen in the same situation. in order to give the magnetizer the fairest opportunity to exhibit the power of his invention, and to give the most satisfactory evidence to the public, the commissioners all submitted to be operated upon themselves, and sat under the operation two hours and a half, but without the least effect upon them, except the fatigue of sitting so long in one position. they were magnetized three days in succession, but without any sensible effect being produced. the magnetizing instruments were then removed to dr. franklin's house, away from public view, parade, and high expectation, and fourteen persons were then magnetized, all of them invalids. nine of them experienced nothing, five appeared slightly affected, and the commissioners were surprised to learn, in every instance, that the poor and ignorant alone were affected. after this eight men and two women were magnetized, but without the least effect. at length a female servant submitted to the same operation, and she affirmed that she felt a heat in every part where the magnetized finger was pointed at her; that she experienced a pain in her head; and, during a continuation of the operation, she became faint, and swooned. when she had fully recovered, they ordered her eyes to be bandaged, and the operator was removed at a distance, when they made her believe that she was still under the operation, and the effects were the same, although no one operated, either near her or at a distance. she could tell the very place where she was magnetized; she felt the same heat in her back and loins, and the same pain in her eyes and ears. at the end of one quarter of an hour, a sign was made for her to be magnetized, but she felt nothing. on the following day, a man and woman were magnetized in a similar manner, and the result was the same. it was found that to direct the _imagination_ to the parts where the sensations were to be felt, was all that was necessary to produce these wonderful effects. but _children_, who had not arrived at sufficient maturity of age to be excited by these imposing forms, experienced nothing from the operation. mesmer and deslon asserted that they could magnetize a tree, and every person approaching the tree, in a given time, would be magnetized, and either fall into a swoon or in convulsions, provided the magnetizer was permitted to stand at a distance and direct his look and his cane towards the tree. accordingly, an apricot tree was selected in dr. franklin's garden, at vassy, for the experiment, and m. deslon came and magnetized the tree while the patient was retained in the house. the patient was then brought out, with a bandage over his eyes, and successively lead to four trees, which were not magnetized, and was directed to embrace each tree two minutes, while m. deslon, at a distance, stood pointing his cane to the tree actually magnetized. at the first tree, which was about twenty-seven feet from the magnetized tree, the patient sweat profusely, coughed, expectorated, and said he felt a pain in his head. at the second tree, now thirty feet from the magnetized tree, he found himself giddy, attended with headache, as before. at the third tree, his giddiness and headache were much increased, and he said he believed he was approaching the magnetized tree, although he was still twenty-eight feet from it. at length, when brought to the fourth tree, _not magnetized_, and at the distance of twenty-four feet from that which was, the young man fell down in a state of perfect insensibility; his limbs became rigid, and he was carried to a grass plot, where m. deslon went to his assistance and recovered him. and yet, in no instance had he approached within a less distance than twenty-four feet of the magnetized tree. a similar experiment was soon afterwards made on two poor females, at dr. franklin's house. these women were separated from each other. three of the commissioners remained with one of them in one chamber, and two of them with the other, in an adjoining chamber. the first had a bandage over her eyes, and was then made to believe that m. deslon came in and commenced magnetizing her, although he never entered the room. in three minutes the woman began to shiver. she felt, in succession, a pain in her head, and a pricking in her hands. she became stiff, struck her hands together, got up, stamped, &c., but nothing had been done to her. the woman in the adjoining chamber was requested to take her seat by the door, which was shut, with her sight at liberty. she was then made to believe that m. deslon would magnetize the door on the opposite side, while the commissioners would wait to witness the result. she had scarcely been seated a minute before she began to shiver. her breathing became hurried; she stretched out her arms behind her back, writhing them strongly, and bending her body forwards; a general tremor of the whole body came on. the chattering of the teeth was so loud as to be heard out of the room; and she bit her hand so as to leave the marks of her teeth in it; but m. deslon was not near the door, nor in either chamber, nor was either of the women touched, not even their pulse examined. we perceive, then, that these effects were produced solely by the imagination, and the above facts exhibit very satisfactorily the power which the mind has over the body. the symptoms were not feigned, but, in the peculiar state of mind of these persons, they were involuntary and irresistible. they believed they should be effected in this manner; the idea was formed in their imaginations, and the nerves were acted upon precisely as though what they conceived was real, and the muscular effects followed. and as the patients themselves could not explain the causes of these effects, they very naturally attributed the whole to magnetism. when the commissioners explained the matter, magnetism ceased to produce these wonderful effects. the minds of persons were enlightened upon the subject, and they no longer expected to be influenced in this manner, and accordingly they were not. dr. sigault, an eminent physician of paris, professed to be an adept in the art of mesmer. being at a great assembly one day, he caused it to be announced that he could magnetize. the voice and serious air he assumed had a very sensible effect upon a lady present, although she endeavored at first to conceal the fact. but having carried his hand to the region of the heart, he found it palpitating. she soon experienced difficulty in respiration. the muscles of her face were affected with convulsive twitches; her eyes rolled; she shortly fell down in a fainting fit, vomited her dinner, and experienced incredible weakness and languor. this seemed to corroborate the remarks of burton, in his _anatomy of melancholy_, where he says, "if, by some soothsayer, wise man, fortune teller, or physician, men be told they shall have such a disease, they will so seriously apprehend it that they will instantly labor of it--a thing familiar in china, (saith riccius, the jesuit.) if they be told they shall be sick on such a day, when that day comes they will surely be sick, and will be so terribly affected that sometimes they die upon it." a late english paper states that a young woman, named winfield, who had been on a visit to derby, returned home to radborn, taking a little dog with her by a string. on arriving there, she informed her friends she had seen a gypsy on the road, who told her, that if she led her dog by the string into the house, she would soon be a corpse. singular to relate, the young woman expired on the following morning! it was thought she died from the effect of imagination, aided by a debilitated constitution. a missionary among the new zealanders says, "there is a class of people in new zealand, called by the natives _areekee_, and whom we very improperly call _priests_. these men pretend to have intercourse with departed spirits, by which they are able to kill, by incantation, any person on whom their anger may fall. and it is a fact, that numbers fall a prey to their confidence in the efficacy of the curses of these men, and pine under the influence of despair, and die." in less than fifteen years after the trial of the pretensions of mesmer and his coadjutors, in regard to magnetism, there was originated in america, by a mr. perkins, a cause of delusion of precisely the same nature. it prevailed in all the united states, in great britain, scotland, and ireland, and to considerable extent on the continent of europe. mr. perkins prepared two small pieces of different kinds of metal drew them to a point, and polished them. these _metallic tractors_, as they were denominated, were said to have, in their joint operation, great power over the electric fluid; and by moving these points gently over the surface of an inflamed part, the heat was extracted, the swelling subsided, and, in a short time, the patient was relieved. after a while, thousands and tens of thousands were ready to certify to the happy influence of these _tractors_. mr. perkins went to england and obtained the royal letters patent, for the purpose of securing to him the advantages of his discovery; and it has been asserted by the best authority, that he returned from england possessed of ten thousand pounds sterling, which he received for the use of his tractors. but dr. haggarth, an eminent physician and philosopher, recollecting the development of animal magnetism at paris, wrote to dr. falconer, surgeon of the general hospital at bath, (england,) and stated his suspicion concerning the tractors; that their efficacy depended wholly on the imagination of the patient; and recommended the experiment of _wooden_ tractors in the place of the _metallic_. accordingly, five persons were selected for the experiment, who were laboring under chronic rheumatism in the ankle, knee, wrist, and hip. wooden tractors were prepared and painted in such a manner that the patients could not discover but that they were metal; and on the th of january, , these _wooden_ tractors were employed for the first time. all the patients except one, were relieved. three were very much benefited. one felt his knee warmer, and he could walk much better, as he showed the medical gentlemen present. one was easier for nine hours, till he went to bed, and then his pain returned. the next day, january th, the metallic tractors were employed with the same effect as that of the preceding day. this led to further experiments of a similar kind, and they were continued, until the physicians became fully satisfied that the wooden tractors were of the same utility with the metallic, provided the patients _supposed_ them metallic. similar experiments were soon after made at edinburgh, and the result was the same. a servant girl, afflicted with a most acute headache, which had rendered her nights altogether restless for a fortnight, readily submitted to be pointed at with these _wooden_ tractors. the operator moved them about her head, but did not touch her. in four minutes she felt a chilliness in the head. in a minute or two more, she felt as though cold water was running down her temples, and the pain was diminished. in ten minutes more, she declared that the headache was entirely gone; and the next day she returned to express her thanks to her benefactors for the good sleep she enjoyed through the night. by similar experiments, the intelligent citizens in america soon ascertained the true cause of the deception, and when these facts came to be developed, the tractors lost all their influence on the human system, and have since been spoken of only in derision. here, again, we behold the astonishing power of the imagination over the human system, and witness the miracles that have been performed on the ignorant and unsuspecting. even in the _modern_ practice of the mesmeric art, a great deal of the success depends upon this tendency of the mind. a very respectable operator assures us, that he cannot magnetize persons unless he can first impress them with the belief that they are actually to become magnetized. they must have _faith_ in order that the effect may be produced. a public lecturer may hang up his watch before his auditors, and tell them to look upon that watch, and they will become magnetized. those who expect to be affected are thrown into the magnetic state. those who have little faith and expectation are seldom, if ever, influenced by such experiments. we, however, do not mean to avow a disbelief in the science of magnetism. on the contrary, we look forward with much interest to its perfection, unencumbered with the false pretensions of its zealous and mistaken friends. chapter v. ignorance of mental philosophy. ignorance of mental philosophy has given rise to many superstitions. many persons have believed in the real, visible appearance of ghosts, spirits, or apparitions. yet these things are clearly and satisfactorily explained on the established principles of mental philosophy. and from this source we learn that they exist alone in the _mind_, in the same manner as do other ideas and images, except in the instances recorded in scripture. they are caused by some misconception, mental operation, or bodily disorder. we will give a few examples to substantiate this position. dr. ferriar relates the case of a gentleman travelling in the highlands of scotland, who was conducted to a bed room which was reported to be haunted by the spirit of a man who had there committed suicide. in the night, he awoke under the influence of a frightful dream, and found himself sitting up in bed with a pistol grasped in his right hand. on looking around the room, he now discovered, by the moonlight, a corpse, dressed in a shroud, reared against the wall, close by the window, the features of the body and every part of the funeral apparel being distinctly perceived. on recovering from the first impulse of terror, so far as to investigate the source of the phantom, it was found to be produced by the moonbeams forming a long, bright image through the broken window. "two esteemed friends of mine," says dr. abercrombie, "while travelling in the highlands, had occasion to sleep in separate beds, in one apartment. one of them, having awoke in the night, saw, by the moonlight, a skeleton hanging from the head of his friend's bed, every part of it being perceived in the most distinct manner. he got up to investigate the source of the appearance, and found it to be produced by the moonbeams falling back upon the drapery of the bed, which had been thrown back in some unusual manner, on account of the heat of the weather. he returned to bed, and soon fell asleep. but having awoke again some time after, the skeleton was so distinctly before him, that he could not sleep without again getting up to trace the origin of the phantom. determined not to be disturbed a third time, he now brought down the curtain to its usual state, and the skeleton appeared no more." dr. dewar relates the case of a lady who was quite blind, and who never walked out without seeing a little old woman, with a crutch and a red cloak, apparently walking before her. she had no illusion when within doors. dr. gregory once took passage in a vessel to a neighboring country, to visit a lady who was in an advanced stage of consumption. on his return, he had taken a moderate dose of laudanum, with the view of preventing seasickness, and was lying on a couch, in the cabin, when the figure of a lady appeared before him in so distinct a manner, that her actual presence could not have been more vivid. he was quite awake, and fully sensible that it was a phantom produced by the opiate, in connection with his intense mental feeling; but he was unable by any effort to banish the vision. a gentleman, mentioned by dr. conolly, when in great danger of being wrecked in a boat, on the eddystone rocks, said he actually saw his family at the moment. in similar circumstances of great danger, others have described the history of their past lives, being represented to them in such a vivid manner, that, at a single glance, the whole was before them, without the power of banishing the impression. we have read the account of a whole ship's company being thrown into the utmost consternation by the apparition of a cook, who had died a few days before. he was distinctly seen walking ahead of the ship, with a peculiar gait, by which he was distinguished when alive, from having one leg shorter than the other. on steering the ship towards the object, it was found to be a piece of floating wreck! there is a story on record, of a piratical cruiser having captured a spanish vessel, during the seventeenth century, and brought her into marblehead harbor, which was then the site of a few humble dwellings. the male inhabitants were all absent on their fishing voyages. the pirates brought their prisoners ashore, carried them at the dead of night into a solitary glen, and there murdered them. among the captives was an english female passenger. the women who belonged to the place heard her dying outcries, as they rose through the midnight air, and reverberated far and wide along the silent shores. she was heard to exclaim, "o, mercy, mercy! lord jesus christ, save me! save me!" her body was buried by the pirates on the spot. the same piercing voice is believed to be heard at intervals, more or less often, almost every year, in the stillness of a calm starlight, or clear moonlight night. there is something, it is said, so wild, mysterious, and evidently superhuman in the sound, as to strike a chill of dread into the hearts of all who listen to it. a writer in the marblehead register, of april , , declares that "there are not persons wanting at the present day, persons of unimpeachable veracity and known respectability, who still continue to believe the tradition, and to assert that they themselves have been auditors of the sounds described, which they declare were of such an unearthly nature as to preclude the idea of imposition or deception." when "the silver moon holds her way," or when the stars are glistening in the clear, cold sky, and the dark forms of the moored vessels are at rest upon the sleeping bosom of the harbor,--when no natural sound comes forth from the animate or inanimate creation but the dull and melancholy note of the winding shore, how often, at midnight, is the watcher startled from the reveries of an excited imagination by the piteous, dismal, and terrific screams of the unlaid _ghost_ of the murdered lady! erroneous impressions are often connected with some bodily disease, more especially disease in the brain. dr. gregory mentions the case of a gentleman liable to epileptic fits, in whom the paroxysm was generally preceded by the appearance of an old woman in a red cloak, who seemed to come up to him, and strike him on the head with her crutch. at that instant he fell down in the fit. another is mentioned by dr. alderston, of a man who kept a dram shop, and who would often see a soldier endeavoring to force himself into his house in a menacing manner; and in rushing forward to prevent him, would find it a mere phantom. this man was cured by bleeding and purgatives; and the source of this vision was traced to a quarrel which he had had some time before with a drunken soldier. in _delirium tremens_ such visions are common, and assume a variety of forms. similar phantasms occur in various forms in febrile diseases. a lady was attended by dr. abercrombie, having an affection of the chest. she awoke her husband one night, at the commencement of her disorder, and begged him to get up instantly, saying that she had distinctly seen a man enter the apartment, pass the foot of her bed, and go into a closet that entered from the opposite side of the room. she was quite awake, and fully convinced of the reality of the appearance. but, upon examining the closet, it was found to be a delusion, although it was almost impossible to convince the lady it was not a reality. a writer in the christian observer mentions a lady, who, during a severe illness, repeatedly saw her father, who resided at the distance of many hundred miles, come to her bedside, withdraw the curtain, and talk to her in his usual voice and manner. a farmer, mentioned by the same writer, on returning from market, was deeply affected by an extraordinarily brilliant light, which he saw upon the road, and by an appearance in the light, which he supposed to be our savior. he was greatly alarmed, and, spurring his horse, galloped home; remained agitated during the evening; was seized with typhus fever, then prevailing in the vicinity, and died in about ten days. it was afterwards ascertained, that on the morning of the same day, before he left home, he had complained of headache and languor; and there can be no doubt, says this writer, that the spectral appearance was connected with the commencement of the fever. analogous to this is the very striking case related by a physician, of a relative of his, a lady about fifty. on returning home one evening from a party, she went into a dark room to lay aside some part of her dress, when she saw distinctly before her the figure of death, as a skeleton, with his arm uplifted, and a dart in his hand. he instantly aimed a blow at her with the dart, which seemed to strike her on the left side. the same night she was seized with a fever, accompanied with symptoms of inflammation in the left side, but recovered after a severe illness. we have read the account of a lady who had an illusion affecting both her sight and hearing. she repeatedly heard her husband's voice calling to her by name, as if from an adjoining room. on one occasion, she saw his figure most distinctly, standing before the fire in the drawing room, when he had left the house half an hour before. she went and sat down within two feet of the figure, supposing it to be her husband, and was greatly astonished that he did not answer her when she spoke to him. the figure continued visible several minutes, then moved towards a window at the farther end of the room, and there disappeared. on another occasion, while adjusting her hair before a mirror, late at night, she saw the countenance of a friend, dressed in a shroud, reflected from the mirror, as if looking over her shoulder. this lady had been for some time in bad health, being affected with a lung complaint, and much nervous debility. another case of an illusion of hearing is reported of a clergyman, who was accustomed to full living, and was suddenly seized with vomiting, vertigo, and ringing in his ears, and continued in an alarming condition for several days. during this time he heard tunes most distinctly played, and in accurate succession. this patient had, at the same time, a remarkable condition of vision, all objects appearing to him inverted. this peculiarity continued about three days, and ceased gradually; the objects by degrees changing their position, first to the horizontal, and then to the erect. some profess to have visions or sights relative to the world of spirits. this was the case with swedenborg. he relates some of them in the following language: "i dined very late at my lodgings at london, and ate with great appetite, till, at the close of my repast, i perceived a kind of mist about my eyes, and the floor of my chamber was covered with hideous reptiles. they soon disappeared, the darkness was dissipated, and i saw clearly, in the midst of a brilliant light, a man seated in the corner of my chamber, who said to me, in a terrible voice, _eat not so much_. at these words, my sight became obscured; afterwards it became clear by degrees, and i found myself alone. the night following, the same man, radiant with light, appeared to me, and said, i am god the lord, creator and redeemer. i have chosen you to unfold to men the internal and spiritual sense of the sacred writings, and will dictate to you what you ought to write. at that time, i was not terrified, and the light, although very brilliant, made no unpleasant impression upon my eyes. the lord was clothed in purple, and the vision lasted a quarter of an hour. the same night, the eyes of my internal man were opened, and fitted to see things in heaven, in the world of spirits, and in hell; in which places i have found many persons of my acquaintance, some of them long since dead, and others lately deceased." in another place, he observes, "i have conversed with apostles, departed popes, emperors, and kings; with the late reformers of the church, luther, calvin, and melancthon, and with others from different countries." in conversing with melancthon, he wished to know his state in the spirit world, but melancthon did not see fit to inform him; "wherefore," says swedenborg, "i was instructed by others concerning his lot, viz., that he is sometimes in an excavated stone chamber, and at other times in hell; and that when in the chamber, he appears to be clothed in a bear's skin by reason of the cold; and that on account of the filth in his chamber, he does not admit strangers from the world, who are desirous of visiting him from the reputation of his name." the apparitions of swedenborg were probably caused by his studies, habits, and pursuits. they bear the marks of earthly origin, although he firmly believed they were from heaven. overloading his stomach at late meals, no doubt, caused some of them. he was in the habit of _eating too much_, as he himself admits. hence his brain may have been disturbed. we have all heard of the case of an elderly lady, who, being ill, called upon her physician one day for advice. she told him, among other things, that on the preceding night her sleep had been disturbed--that she had seen her grandmother in her dreams. being interrogated whether she ate any thing the preceding evening, she told the doctor she ate half a mince pie just before going to bed. "well, madam," said he, "if you had eaten the other half, you might have seen your grandfather also." the slightest examination of the accounts which remain of occurrences that were deemed supernatural by our ancestors will satisfy any one, at the present day, that they were brought about by causes entirely _natural_, although unknown to them. we will close this part of our investigation by relating the following circumstances, attested by the rev. james pierpont, pastor of a church in new haven:-- "in the year , a new ship of about one hundred and fifty tons, containing a valuable cargo, and several distinguished persons as passengers, put to sea from new haven in the month of january, bound to england. the vessels that came over the ensuing spring brought no tidings of her arrival in the mother country. the pious colonists were earnest and instant in their prayers that intelligence might be received of the missing vessel. in the course of the following june, a great thunder storm arose out of the north-west; after which, (the hemisphere being serene,) about an hour before sunset, a ship of like dimensions of the aforesaid, with her canvas and colors abroad, (although the wind was northerly,) appeared in the air, coming up from the harbor's mouth, which lies southward from the town, seemingly with her sails filled, under a fresh gale, holding her course north, and continuing under observation, sailing against the wind, for the space of half an hour. the phantom ship was borne along, until, to the excited imaginations of the spectators, she seemed to have approached so near that they could throw a stone into her. her main topmast then disappeared, then her mizzen topmast, then her masts were entirely carried away, and finally her hull fell off, and vanished from sight, leaving a dull and smoke-colored cloud, which soon dissolved, and the whole atmosphere became clear. all affirmed that the airy vision was a precise copy of the missing vessel, and that it was sent to announce and describe her fate. they considered it the spectre of the lost ship, and the rev. mr. davenport declared in public 'that god had condescended, for the quieting of their afflicted spirits, this extraordinary account of his sovereign disposal of those for whom so many fervent prayers were made continually.'" the results of modern science enable us to explain the mysterious appearance. it is probable that some dutch vessel, proceeding slowly, quietly, and unconsciously on her voyage from amsterdam to the new netherlands, happened at the time to be passing through the sound. at the moment the apparition was seen in the sky, she was so near, that her image was painted or delineated to the eyes of the observers, on the clouds, by the laws of optics, now generally well known, before her actual outlines could be discerned by them on the horizon. as the sun sunk behind the western hills, and his rays were gradually withdrawn, the visionary ship slowly disappeared, and the approach of the night, while it dispelled the vapors from the atmosphere, effectually concealed the vessel as she continued her course along the sound. the optical illusions that present themselves, on the sea shore, by which distant objects are raised to view, the opposite islands and capes made to loom up, lifted above the line of the apparent circumference of the earth, and thrown into every variety of shape which the imagination can conceive, are among the most beautiful phenomena of nature, and they impress the mind with the idea of enchantment and mystery, more perhaps than any others. but they have received a complete solution from modern discovery. it should be observed that the optical principles that explain these phenomena have recently afforded a foundation for the science, or rather the _art_, of _nauscopy_. there are persons, it is said, in some places in the isle of france, whose calling and profession it is to ascertain and predict the approach of vessels by their reflection in the atmosphere and on the clouds, long before they are visible to the eye or through the glass. our vision is at all times liable to be disturbed by atmospheric conditions. so long as the atmosphere between our person and the object we are looking at is of the same density, we may be said to see in a straight line to the object. but if, by any cause, a portion of that atmosphere is rendered less or more dense, the line of vision is bent, or refracted, from its course. a thorough comprehension of this truth in science has banished a mass of superstition. it has been found that, by means of powerful refraction, objects at great distances, and round the back of a hill, or considerably beneath the horizon, are brought into sight. in some countries this phenomenon is called _mirage_. the following is one of the most interesting and best-authenticated cases of the kind. in a voyage performed by captain scoresby, in , he was able to recognize his father's ship, when below the horizon, from the inverted image of it which appeared in the air. "it was," says he, "so well defined, that i could distinguish, by a telescope, every sail, the general rig of the ship, and its particular character, insomuch that i confidently pronounced it to be my father's ship, the fame,--which it afterwards proved to be--though on comparing notes with my father, i found that our relative position, at the time, gave our distance from one another very nearly thirty miles, being about seventeen miles beyond the horizon, and some leagues beyond the limit of direct vision!" dr. vince, an english philosopher, was once looking through a telescope at a ship which was so far off that he could only see the upper part of the masts. the hull was entirely hidden by the bending of the water; but, between himself and the ship, he saw two perfect images of it in the air. these were of the same form and color as the real ship; but one of them was turned completely upside down. in the sandy plains of egypt, the mirage is seen to great advantage. these plains are often interrupted by small eminences, upon which the inhabitants have built their villages in order to escape the inundations of the nile. in the morning and evening, objects are seen in their natural form and position; but when the surface of the sandy ground is heated by the sun, the land seems terminated, at a particular distance, by a general inundation; the villages which are beyond it appear like so many islands in a great lake; and an inverted image of a village appears between the hills. the swedish sailors long searched for a supposed magic island, which, from time to time, could be descried between the island of aland and the coast of upland. it proved to be a rock, the image of which was presented in the air by mirage. at one time, the english saw, with terror, the coast of calais and boulogne, in france, rising up on the opposite side of the channel, and apparently approaching their island. but the most celebrated example of mirage is exhibited in the straits of messina. the inhabitants of the calabrian shore behold images of palaces, embattled ramparts, houses, and ships, and all the varied objects of towns and landscapes, in the air--being refracted images from the sicilian coast. this wonderful phenomenon is superstitiously regarded by the common people as the work of fairies. chapter vi. ignorance of true religion. ignorance of true religion has given rise to many prevailing superstitions. the savior has taught us that the father of spirits regulates the minutest events of this world, and that he alone is the supreme ruler of the universe. our experience and observation must convince us that this infinite work is accomplished by regular laws, and that infinite wisdom sees fit so to govern all events without the intervention of miracles, or through the agency of any instrumentality but his own. and by examination, we shall find that these truths are in direct opposition to the general mass of popular superstitions. there are many who believe in signs. they believe that the howling of a dog under a window betokens death to some member of the family. but how does the dog obtain this foreknowledge? who sends him on this solemn errand? if you say that his appearance at the house is accidental, then you would have us trust to _chance_ for information upon this most important subject. if you say that his knowledge of the approaching event is intuitive, then you would have us believe that the irrational brute knows more than his intelligent master. if you say that he is instigated by some wicked spirit, then you would have us admit that an enemy of mankind is more attentive to their welfare than god; for it certainly betokens the greatest kindness to notify us of our near dissolution. if you say the animal is sent by god, how will you explain the fact that the sign so often fails? not actually taking place oftener, at most, than once in a hundred times. certainly we are not to accuse the omniscient and merciful jehovah either of ignorance concerning future events, or of trifling with the feelings of his dependent creatures. we must therefore consider the sign to be altogether superstitious, and contrary to all rational evidence. some persons profess to believe in lucky and unlucky days. they say, for instance, that friday is an unlucky day. and why so? does god part with the reins of his government, and employ wicked spirits to torment his creatures on this day? does he make this day more unpropitious to human affairs than others? do facts go to show that more disasters occur on this day than on any other? paul instructs us that all days are alike, and that god rules the universe with infinite wisdom and benevolence. then why should we account friday to be an unlucky day? whence came such an opinion? from heathenism. the heathen were much influenced by this superstition; and when converted to christianity, they incorporated this among some other absurdities into their religious belief. because our savior was crucified on friday, they placed this at the head of their unlucky days. but why they did so, we cannot conceive; for the death of christ was absolutely necessary for the deliverance of mankind from sin and death. and for this reason alone, friday was the most propitious day that ever dawned upon a dying world. but the heathen converts did not consider this circumstance. they pronounced sunday, the day of his resurrection, to be the most fortunate. later christians, in a certain sense, have thought differently. sir matthew hale has remarked, that he never knew any undertaking to prosper that was commenced on the sabbath. and the early laws of connecticut prohibited any vessel from either leaving a port, or entering a port, or passing by a village on sunday. but such prohibitions are not agreeable to the notions of seamen, who, as a class, are inclined to be somewhat superstitious. we frequently meet with dissipated, unbelieving sailors, who could not be induced to put to sea on friday on any consideration; but who would rather labor seven successive nights than not sail on the sabbath. it is rather singular that sceptics should be so afraid of the day of our savior's crucifixion, and so fond of that of his resurrection. such inconsistency, however, is not uncommon. those who rail most at the credulity of others are frequently the most superstitious. those who lay the greatest claims to bravery are, for the most part, the greatest cowards. voltaire could ridicule religion in fair weather, but the moment a thunder cloud appeared, he was thrown into extreme consternation, and must have a priest to pray during its continuance for his preservation. if we would avoid the influence of this heathen superstition, we must regard _actions_ rather than _days_. if our engagements are _proper_, we have nothing to fear from the day on which they are commenced. if we feel the evidence within that god is indeed _our_ father, we shall not be prevented, by any belief in lucky or unlucky days, from doing our duty on every day, and enjoying peace and happiness on all days. chapter vii. belief in witchcraft. a witch was regarded by our fathers as a person who had made an actual, deliberate, and formal contract with satan, by which contract it was agreed that the party should become his faithful subject, and do whatever should be required in promoting his cause. and in consideration of this allegiance and service, he, on his part, agreed to exercise his supernatural powers in the person's behalf. it was considered as a transfer of allegiance from god to the devil. the agreement being concluded, satan bestows some trifling sum of money to bind the bargain; then, cutting or pricking a finger causes the individual to sign his or her name, or make the mark of a cross, with their own blood, on a piece of parchment. in addition to this signature, in some places, the devil made the witches put one hand to the crown of their head, and the other to the sole of the foot, signifying they were entirely his. before the devil quits his new subject, he delivers to her or him an imp or familiar, and sometimes two or three. they are of different shapes and forms, some resembling a cat, others a mole, a miller fly, spider, or some other insect or animal. these are to come at bidding, to do such mischief as the witch may command, and, at stated times of the day, suck the blood of the witch, through teats, on different parts of the body. feeding, suckling, or rewarding these imps was, by law, declared _felony_. sometimes a witch, in company with others of the fraternity, is carried through the air on brooms or spits, to distant meetings or sabbaths of witches. but for this they must anoint themselves with a certain magical ointment given them by the devil. lord bacon, in his philosophical works, gives a recipe for the manufacture of an ointment that enabled witches to fly in the air. it was composed of the fat of children, digged out of their graves, and of the juices of smaltage, cinquefoil, and wolfsbane, mixed with meal of fine wheat. after greasing themselves with this preparation, the witches flew up chimney, and repaired to the spot in some graveyard or dismal forest, where they were to hold their meetings with the evil one. at these meetings they have feasting and dancing, the devil himself sometimes condescending to play on the great fiddle, pipe, or harp. when the meeting breaks up, they all have the honor of kissing his majesty, who for that ceremony usually assumes the form of a he goat. witches showed their spite by causing the object of it to waste away in a long and painful disease, with a sensation of thorns stuck in the flesh. sometimes they caused their victims to swallow pins, old nails, dirt, and trash of all sorts, invisibly conveyed to them by their imps. frequently they showed their hate by drying up the milk of cows, or by killing oxen. for slight offences they would prevent butter from coming in the churn, or beer from working. grace greenwood says, that, on a visit to salem in the fall of , she "was shown a vial of the veritable bewitched pins with which divers persons were sorely pricked by the wicked spite of certain witches and wizards." it was believed that satan affixed his mark or seal to the bodies of those in allegiance with him, and that the spot where this mark was made became callous and dead. in examining a witch upon trial, they would pierce the body with pins, and if any spot was found insensible to the torture, it was looked upon as ocular demonstration of guilt. another method to detect a witch, was to weigh her against the church bible. if she was guilty, the bible would preponderate. another was by making her say the lord's prayer, which no one actually possessed could do correctly. a witch could not weep but three tears, and that only out of the left eye; and this was considered by many an decisive proof of guilt. but swimming was the most infallible ordeal. they were stripped naked, and bound the right thumb to the left toe, and the left thumb to the right toe. being thus prepared, they were thrown into a pond or river. if guilty, they could not sink; for having, by their compact with the devil, renounced the water of baptism, that element renounces them, and refuses to receive them into its bosom. in , a man by the name of matthew hopkins, in england, was permitted to explore the counties of essex, suffolk, and huntingdon, with a commission to discover witches, receiving twenty shillings from each town he visited. many persons were pitched upon, and through his means convicted. at length, some gentlemen, out of indignation at his barbarity, tied him in the same manner he had bound others, thumbs and toes together, in which state, putting him in the water, he swam! standing condemned on his own principles, the country was rescued from the power of his malicious imposition. the subsequent illustration of the condition of religion less than two hundred years ago will excite a few humbling thoughts. in the parish register of glammis, scotland, june, , is recorded--"nae preaching here this lord's day, the minister being at gortachy, burning a witch." forty thousand persons, it is said, were put to death for witchcraft in england during the seventeenth century, and a much greater number in scotland, in proportion to its population. in , the whole population of salem and vicinity were under the influence of a terrible delusion concerning witchcraft. by yielding to the sway of their credulous fancies, allowing their passions to be worked up to a tremendous pitch of excitement, and running into excesses of folly and violence, they have left a dark stain upon their memory, that will awaken a sense of shame, pity, and amazement in the minds of their latest posterity. the principal causes that led to their delusion, and to the proceedings connected with it, were, a proneness to superstition, owing in a great degree to an ignorance of natural science, too great a dependence upon the imagination, and the power of sympathy. in contemplating the errors and sufferings which ignorance of philosophy and science brought upon our fathers, we should be led to appreciate more gratefully, and to improve with more faithfulness, our own opportunities to acquire wisdom and knowledge. but we would not be understood as saying, that mere intellectual cultivation is sufficient to banish every superstition. no. for who were ever better educated than the ancient greeks and romans? and yet, who were ever more influenced by a belief in signs, omens, spectres, and witches? we believe that, when the gospel, in its purity and simplicity, shall shed its divine light abroad, and pervade the hearts of men, superstition, in all its dark and hideous forms, will recede, and vanish from the world. in concluding our remarks under this head, we would add that, in a dictionary before us, a witch is designated as a woman, and _wizard_ as a man, that pretends to some power whereby he or she can foretell future events, cure diseases, call up or drive away spirits. the art itself is called _witchcraft_. if this is a correct definition, witches and wizards are quite a numerous class of people in society at the present day; for there are many among us who presume to practise these things. chapter viii. necromancy and fortune telling. although the belief in witchcraft has nearly passed away, the civilized world is yet full of necromancers and fortune tellers. the mystic science of "palmistry" is still practised by many a haggard and muttering vagrant. the most celebrated fortune teller, perhaps, that ever lived, resided in lynn, mass. the character of "moll pitcher" is familiarly known in all parts of the commercial world. she died in . her place of abode was beneath the projecting and elevated summit of high rock, in lynn, and commanded a view of the wild and indented coast of marblehead, of the extended and resounding beaches of lynn and chelsea, of nahant rocks, of the vessels and islands, of boston's beautiful bay, and of its remote southern shore. she derived her mysterious gifts by inheritance, her grandfather having practised them before, in marblehead. sailors, merchants, and adventurers of every kind visited her residence, and placed great confidence in her predictions. people came from great distances to learn the fate of missing friends or recover the possession of lost goods. the young, of both sexes, impatient at the tardy pace of time, and burning with curiosity to discern their future lot, especially as it regarded matters of wedlock, availed themselves of every opportunity to visit her lowly dwelling, and hear from her prophetic lips the revelations of these most tender incidents and important events of their coming lives. she read the future, and traced what, to mere mortal eyes, were the mysteries of the present or the past, in the arrangement and aspect of the grounds or settlings of a cup of tea or coffee. her name has every where become the generic title of fortune tellers, and occupies a conspicuous place in the legends and ballads of popular superstition. a man was suddenly missed by his friends from a certain town in this commonwealth. the church immediately sent a member to consult the far-famed fortune-telling molly pitcher. after making the necessary inquiries, she intimated that the absent person had been murdered by a family of negroes, and his body sunk in the deep waters behind their dwelling. upon this evidence, the accused were forthwith imprisoned, and the pond raked in vain, from shore to shore. a few days previous to the trial, the missing man returned to his friends, safe and sound; thus proving that the fortune teller, instead of having received from satan certain information of distant and unknown events, actually played off a piece of the grossest deception upon her credulous visitors. we are told by travellers that there is scarcely a village in syria in which there is not some one who has the credit of being able to cast out evil spirits. about eight miles from the ancient sidon, lady hester stanhope, the granddaughter of the immortal chatham, and niece of the equally immortal pitt, recently lived in a style of eastern splendor and magnificence. she spent her time in gazing at the extended canopy of heaven, as it shed its sparkling light upon the ancient hills and sacred groves of palestine--her soul absorbed in the fathomless mysteries of her loved astrology, and holding fancied communion with supernatural powers and spirits of the departed. there recently died in hopkinton, mass., an individual by the name of sheffield, who had long followed the art of fortune telling by astrology. he professed to unfold almost every secret, or mystery, even to foretelling the precise day and hour any person would die. in case of lost or stolen goods, it was only necessary to enclose a small fee in a letter, containing also a statement of your name, age, and place of residence, and forward the same by mail to his address. in two or three weeks, the information you sought, as to the person who stole the property, &c., would be forwarded to you, leaving you to judge of the case for yourself. he did quite a business in his line, and made something of a fortune out of a long-exploded science. there are many who trust to the declarations of such persons, and are often made unhappy thereby. in fact, it is doubtful if a more unhappy class can be found than those who are in the habit of consulting fortune tellers of any character. it is _discontent_, chiefly, that leads them to pry into futurity. and after having had their _fortunes told_, as it is termed, they are no better satisfied than before; for the best of fortune tellers are famous for their errors and mistakes, although it would be strange if they did not blunder upon some facts in the whole routine of their business. but we pity those who rely upon their prognostications. if told they will die at such or such a time, or if they are to meet with some dreadful accident, misfortune, or disappointment, their imaginations will lead them to anticipate and dread the event, which will be the surest way to produce its fulfilment. if a husband or wife is told that he or she will marry again, it will lead them to be dissatisfied with the partner with whom they are at present associated. and look at this subject as we will, we shall find it productive of a vast amount of evil, and therefore deserving of our entire disapprobation. chapter ix. fairies, or wandering spirits. fairies, says a certain author, are a sort of intermediate beings, between men and women, having bodies, yet with the power of rendering them _invisible_, and of passing through all sorts of enclosures. they are remarkably small of stature, with fair complexions, whence they derive their name, _fairies_. both male and female are generally clothed in green, and frequent mountains, the sunny side of hills, groves, and green meadows, where they amuse themselves with dancing, hand in hand, in a circle, by moonlight. the traces of their feet are said to be visible, next morning, on the grass, and are commonly called _fairy rings_, or _circles_. fairies have all the passions and wants of men, and are great lovers of cleanliness and propriety; for the observance of which, they frequently reward servants, by dropping money in their shoes. they likewise punish sluts and slovens by pinching them black and blue. they often change their weak and starveling elves, or children, for the more robust offspring of men. but this can only be done before baptism; for which reason it is still the custom, in the highlands, to watch by the cradle of infants till they are christened. the word _changeling_, now applied to one almost an idiot, attests the current belief of these superstitious mutations. some fairies dwell in mines, and in wales nothing is more common than these subterranean spirits, called _knockers_, who very good naturedly point out where there is a rich vein of lead or silver. in scotland there was a sort of domestic fairies, from their sun-burnt complexions, called _brownies_. these were extremely useful, performing all sorts of domestic drudgery. in the life of dr. adam clarke, we have the following account of a circumstance that took place in the town of freshford, county of kilkenny, ireland, showing the superstition prevailing in that country concerning the influence of these fairy beings: "a farmer built himself a house of three apartments, the kitchen in the middle, and a room for sleeping, &c., on either end. some time after it was finished, a cow of his died--then a horse; to these succeeded other smaller animals, and last of all his _wife_ died. full of alarm and distress, supposing himself to be an object of _fairy indignation_, he went to the _fairy man_, that is, one who pretends to know _fairy_ customs, haunts, pathways, antipathies, caprices, benevolences, &c., and he asked his advice and counsel on the subject of his losses. the wise man, after having considered all things, and cast his eye upon the house, said, 'the fairies, in their night walks from _knockshegowny_ hill, in county _tipperary_, to the county of _kilkenny_, were accustomed to pass over the very spot where one of your rooms is now built; you have blocked up their way, and they were very angry with you, and have slain your cattle, and killed your wife, and, if not appeased, may yet do worse harm to you.' the poor fellow, sadly alarmed, went, and with his own hands, deliberately pulled down the timbers, demolished the walls, and left not one stone upon another, but razed the very foundation, and left the path of these capricious gentry as open and as clear as it was before. how strong must have been this man's belief in the existence of these demi-natural and semi-supernatural beings, to have induced him thus to destroy the work of his own hands!" in spenser's epic poem, called the fairy queen, the imagination of the reader is entertained with the characters of fairies, witches, magicians, demons, and departed spirits. a kind of pleasing horror is raised in the mind, and one is amused with the strangeness and novelty of the persons who are represented in it; but to be affected by such poetry requires an odd turn of thought, a peculiar cast of fancy, with an imagination naturally fruitful and superstitious. the gypsies are a class of strolling beggars, cheats, and fortune tellers. they have been quite numerous in all the older countries, and are so still in some of them; but in the united states there are but few, some one or two tribes in the west, and a small party of them in new york state. they are probably called gypsies from the ancient egyptians, who had the character of great cheats, whence the name might afterwards pass proverbially into other languages, as it did into the greek and latin; or else the ancient egyptians being much versed in astronomy, or rather astrology, the name was afterwards assumed by these modern fortune tellers. in latin they are called _egyptii_; the italians called them _cinari_, or _cingani_; the russians, _zigani_; the turks and persians, _zingarri_; the germans, _ziguenor_; the spaniards, _gitános_; the french, _bohemians_, from the circumstance that bohemia was the first civilized country where they made their appearance. in most countries they live in the woods and forests; but in england, where every inch of land is cultivated, the covered cart and little tent are their houses, and they seldom remain more than three days in the same place. dabbling in sorcery is in some degree the province of the female gypsy. she affects to tell the future, and to prepare philters, by means of which love can be awakened in any individual towards any particular object; and such is the credulity of the human race, even in the most enlightened countries, that the profits arising from these practices are great. the following is a case in point: two females, neighbors and friends, were tried, some years since, for the murder of their husbands. it appeared that they were in love for the same individual, and had conjointly, at various times, paid sums of money to a gypsy woman to work charms to captivate his affections. whatever little effect the charms might produce, they were successful in their principal object, for the person in question carried on for some time a criminal intercourse with both. the matter came to the knowledge of the husbands, who, taking means to break off this connection, were both poisoned by their wives. till the moment of conviction, these wretched females betrayed neither emotion nor fear; but at this juncture their consternation was indescribable. they afterwards confessed that the gypsy, who had visited them in prison, had promised to shield them from conviction by means of her art. it is therefore not surprising that in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, when a belief in sorcery was supported by the laws of all europe, these people were regarded as practisers of sorcery, and punished as such, when, even in the nineteenth, they still find people weak enough to place confidence in their claims to supernatural power. in telling fortunes, the first demand of the gypsy, in england, is invariably a sixpence, in order that she may cross her hands with silver; and here the same promises are made, and as easily believed, as in other countries, leading to the conclusion that mental illumination, amongst the generality of mankind, has made no progress whatever; as we observe in the nineteenth century the same gross credulity manifested as in the seventeenth, and the inhabitants of one of the countries most celebrated for the arts of civilization imposed upon by the same stale tricks which served to deceive, two centuries before, in spain, a country whose name has long and justly been considered as synonymous with every species of ignorance and barbarity. in telling fortunes, promises are the only capital requisite, and the whole art consists in properly adapting these promises to the age and condition of the parties who seek for information. the gitános are clever enough in the accomplishment of this, and generally give perfect satisfaction. their practice lies chiefly amongst females, the portion of the human race most given to curiosity and credulity. to the young maidens they promise lovers, handsome invariably, and oftentimes rich; to wives, children, and perhaps another husband; for their eyes are so penetrating, that occasionally they will develop your most secret thoughts and wishes; to the old, riches, and nothing but riches--for they have sufficient knowledge of the human heart to be aware that avarice is the last passion that becomes extinct within it. these riches are to proceed either from the discovery of hidden treasure, or from across the water. the gitános, in the exercise of this practice, find dupes almost as readily amongst the superior classes, as the veriest dregs of the population. they are also expert in chiromancy, which is the determining, from certain lines upon the hand, the quality of the physical and intellectual powers of the possessor, to which lines they give particular and appropriate names, the principal of which is called the "line of life." an ancient writer, in speaking of this art, says, "such chiromancy is not only reprobated by theologians, but by men of law and physic, as a foolish, vain, scandalous, futile, superstitious practice, smelling much of divinery and a pact with the devil." the gitános in the olden time appear to have not unfrequently been subjected to punishment as sorceresses, and with great justice, as the abominable trade which they have always driven in philters and decoctions certainly entitled them to that appellation, and to the pains and penalties reserved for those who practised what is generally termed "witchcraft." amongst the crimes laid to their charge, connected with the exercise of occult powers, there is one of a purely imaginary character, which if they were ever punished for, they had assuredly but little right to complain, as the chastisement they met with was fully merited by practices equally malefic as the one imputed to them, provided that were possible. _it was the casting the evil eye._ in the gitáno language, casting the evil eye is called _zuerelar nasula_, which simply means making sick, and which, according to the common superstition, is accomplished by casting an evil look at people, especially children, who, from the tenderness of their constitution, are supposed to be more easily blighted than those of a more mature age. after receiving the evil glance, they fall sick, and die in a few hours. in andalusia, a belief in the evil eye is very prevalent among the lower orders. a stag's horn is considered a good safeguard, and on that account, a small horn, tipped with silver, is frequently attached to the children's necks, by means of a cord braided from the hair of a black mare's tail. should the evil glance be cast, it is imagined that the horn receives it, and instantly snaps asunder. such horns may be purchased at the silversmiths' shops at seville. the gypsies sell remedies for the evil eye, which consist of any drugs which they happen to possess, or are acquainted with. they have been known to offer to cure the glanders in a horse, (an incurable disorder,) with the very same powders which they offer as a specific for the evil eye. the same superstition is current among all oriental people, whether turks, arabs, or hindoos; but perhaps there is no nation in the world with whom the belief is so firmly rooted as the jews; it being a subject treated of in all the old rabbinical writings, which induces the conclusion that the superstition of the evil eye is of an antiquity almost as remote as the origin of the hebrew race. the evil eye is mentioned in scripture, but not in the false and superstitious sense we have spoken of. evil in the eye, which occurs in prov. xxiii. , , merely denotes niggardness and illiberality. the hebrew words are _ain ra_, and stand in contradistinction to _ain toub_, or the benignant in eye, which denotes an inclination to bounty and liberality. the rabbins have said, "for one person who dies of sickness, there are ten who die by the evil eye." and as the jews, especially those of the east, and of barbary, place implicit confidence in all that the rabbins have written, we can scarcely wonder if, at the present day, they dread this visitation more than the cholera or the plague. "the leech," they say, "can cure those disorders; but who is capable of curing the evil eye?" it is imagined that this blight is most easily inflicted when a person is enjoying himself, with little or no care for the future, when he is reclining in the sun before his door, or when he is full of health and spirits, but principally when he is eating and drinking, on which account the jews and moors are jealous of strangers when they are taking their meals. "i was acquainted," says a late writer, "with a very handsome jewess, of fez; she had but one eye, but that one was particularly brilliant. on asking her how she lost its fellow, she informed me that she was once standing in the street, at nightfall, when she was a little girl; a moor, that was passing by, suddenly stopped, and said, 'towac ullah, (blessed be god,) how beautiful are your eyes, my child!' whereupon she went into the house, but was presently seized with a dreadful pain in the left eye, which continued during the night, and the next day the pupil came out of the socket. she added, that she did not believe the moor had any intention of hurting her, as he gazed on her so kindly; but that it was very thoughtless in him to utter words which are sure to convey evil luck." it is said to be particularly dangerous to eat in the presence of a woman; for the evil eye, if cast by a woman, is far more fatal and difficult to cure than if cast by a man. when any one falls sick of the evil eye, he must instantly call to his assistance the man cunning in such cases. the man, on coming, takes either a girdle or a handkerchief from off his own person, and ties a knot at either end; then he measures three spans with his left hand, and at the end of these three he fastens a knot, and folds it three times round his head, pronouncing this _beraka_, or blessing: "_ben porat josef, ben porat ali ain_," (joseph is a fruitful bough, a fruitful bough by a well;) he then recommences measuring the girdle or handkerchief, and if he finds three spans and a half, instead of the three which he formerly measured, he is enabled to tell the name of the person who cast the evil eye, whether male or female. the above very much resembles the charm of the bible and key, by which many persons in england still pretend to be able to discover the thief, when an article is missed. a key is placed in a bible, in the part called solomon's song; the bible and key are then fastened strongly together, by means of a ribbon, which is wound round the bible, and passed several times through the handle of the key, which projects from the top of the book. the diviner then causes the person robbed to name the name of any person or persons whom he may suspect. the two parties, the robbed and the diviner, then standing up, support the book between them, the ends of the handle of the key resting on the tips of the fore fingers of the right hand. the diviner then inquires of the bible, whether such a one committed the theft, and commences repeating the sixth and seventh verses of the eighth chapter of the song; and if the bible and key turn round in the mean time, the person named is considered guilty. this charm has been, and still is, the source of infinite mischief, innocent individuals having irretrievably lost their character among their neighbors from recourse being had to the bible and key. the slightest motion of the finger, or rather of the nail, will cause the key to revolve, so that the people named are quite at the mercy of the diviner, who is generally a cheat, or professed conjurer, and not unfrequently a gypsy. in like manner, the barbary cunning man, by a slight contraction of his hand, measures three and a half spans, where he first measured three, and then pretends to know the person who has cast the evil eye, having, of course, first ascertained the names of those with whom his patient has lately been in company. when the person who has cast the evil eye has been discovered, by means of the magical process already described, the mother, or wife, or sister of the sufferer walks forth, pronouncing the name of the latter with a loud voice, and, making the best of her way to the house of the person guilty, takes a little of the earth from before the door of his or her sleeping apartment. some of the saliva of the culprit is then demanded, which must be given early in the morning, before breakfast; then the mother, or the wife, or the sister goes to the oven, and takes from thence seven burning coals, which are slaked in water from the bath in which the women bathe. the four ingredients, earth, saliva, coals, and water, are then mixed together in a dish, and the patient is made to take three sips, and what remains is taken to a private place and buried, the person who buries it making three paces backward, exclaiming, "may the evil eye be buried beneath the earth." many people carry papers about with them, scrawled with hieroglyphics, which are prepared by the hacumim, or sages, and sold. these papers, placed in a little bag and hung about the person, are deemed infallible preservatives from the "ain ara." like many other superstitions, the above may be founded on a physical reality. in hot countries, where the sun and moon are particularly dazzling, the belief in the evil eye is most prevalent. if we turn to the scripture, we shall probably come to the solution of the belief. "the sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night." ps. cxxi. , . to those who loiter in the sunshine, before the king of day has nearly reached his bourn in the west, the sun has an evil eye, and his glance produces brain fevers; and to those who sleep uncovered, beneath the smile of the moon, her glance is poisonous, producing insupportable itching in the eye and not unfrequently total blindness: all the charms, scrawls, and rabbinical antidotes have no power to avert these effects. the northern nations have a superstition which bears some resemblance to the evil eye. they have no brilliant sun and moon to addle the brain and poison the eye, but the gray north has its marshes, and fenny ground, and fetid mists, which produce agues, low fevers, and moping madness, and are as fatal to cattle as to man. such disorders are attributed to elves and fairies. this superstition still lingers in some parts of england, under the name of _elf-shot_, whilst, throughout the north, it is called _elle-skiod_, and _elle-vild_, (fairy wild.) it is particularly prevalent amongst shepherds and cowherds, who, from their manner of life, are most exposed to the effects of the so called elf-shot. the gitános had a venomous preparation called _drao_, or _drow_, which they were in the habit of flinging into the mangers of the cattle, for the purpose of causing sickness and death. it was the province of the women to compound the ingredients of this poison, which answered many wicked purposes. the stalls and stables were visited secretly, and the provender of the animals being poisoned, they at once fell sick; speedily there appeared the gitános, offering their services on the condition of no cure no pay, and when these were accepted, the malady was speedily removed. they used no medicines, or pretended not to, but charms only, which consisted of small variegated beans, called, in their language, _bobis_, coming from a russian word signifying _beans_. these beans they dropped into the mangers, though they doubtless administered privately a real and efficacious remedy. by these means they fostered the idea, already prevalent, that they were people possessed of supernatural gifts and powers. by means of drao, they likewise procured themselves food; poisoning swine, as their brethren in england still do, and then feasting on the flesh, the poison only affecting the head of the animal, which was abandoned as worthless; witness one of their own songs:-- "by gypsy drow the porker died; i saw him stiff at evening tide; but i saw him not when morning shone, for the gypsies ate him, flesh and bone." by drao, also, they could avenge themselves on their enemies by destroying their cattle, without incurring a shadow of suspicion. revenge for injuries, real or imaginary, is sweet to all unconverted minds--to no one more than the gypsy, who, in all parts of the world, is, perhaps, the most revengeful of human beings. but if the gitános are addicted to any one superstition above others, it is in respect to the _loadstone_, to which they attribute all kinds of miraculous powers. they believe that he who is in possession of it has nothing to fear from steel or lead, from fire or water, and that death itself has no power over him. the gypsy contrabandists are particularly anxious to procure this stone, which they carry upon their persons in their expeditions. they say, that in the event of their being pursued by the revenue officers, whirlwinds of dust will arise and conceal them from the view of their enemies; the horse stealers say much the same thing, and assert that they are uniformly successful when they bear about them the precious stone. but it is said by them to effect much more. it is extraordinary in exciting the amorous propensities, and on this account it is in great request among the gypsy hags. all these women are procuresses, and find persons of both sexes weak and wicked enough to make use of their pretended knowledge in the composition of love draughts and decoctions. in the museum of natural curiosities at madrid, there is a large piece of loadstone, originally extracted from the american mines. there is scarcely a gitána in madrid who is not acquainted with this circumstance, and who does not long to obtain the stone, or a part of it. several attempts have been made to steal it, all of which, however, have been unsuccessful. a translation of the gospel of st. luke was printed in the gypsy language, at madrid, in . the chapters were read over and explained to some of these strange people, by the late agent of the british and foreign bible society, in spain. they said it was _lacho_, and _jucal_, and _misto_, all of which words express approval of the quality of a thing; and they purchased copies of the gypsy luke freely. the women were particularly anxious to obtain copies, though unable to read; but each wished to have one in her pocket, especially when engaged in thieving expeditions, for they all looked upon it in the light of a charm, which would preserve them from all danger and mischance; some even went so far as to say, that in this respect it was equally as efficacious as the bar lachi, or loadstone, which they are generally so eager to possess. of this gospel, five hundred copies were printed, the greatest part of which were circulated among the gypsies; but it was speedily prohibited by a royal ordinance, which appeared in the gazette of madrid, in august, . before closing, under this head, we will remark that, although the gypsies in general are a kind of wandering outcasts, incapable of appreciating the blessings of a settled and civilized life, yet among the gypsies of moscow there are not a few who inhabit stately houses, go abroad in elegant equipages, and are not a whit behind the higher order of russians in appearance, nor in mental acquirements. to the female part of the gypsy colony of moscow is to be attributed the merit of this partial rise from abjectness and degradation, having from time immemorial so successfully cultivated the vocal art, that, though in the midst of a nation by whom song is more cherished and cultivated, and its principles better understood, than by any other of the civilized globe, the gypsy choirs of moscow are, by the general voice of the russian public, admitted to be unrivalled in that most amiable of all accomplishments. it is a fact, notorious in russia, that the celebrated catalini was so enchanted with the voice of one of these gypsy songsters, who, after the former had displayed her noble italian talent before a splendid audience at moscow, stepped forward, and with an astonishing burst of almost angelic melody, so enraptured every ear, that even applause forgot its duty, and the noble catalini immediately tore from her own shoulders a shawl of cashmere, which had been presented to her by the father of rome, and embracing the gypsy, insisted on her acceptance of the splendid gift, saying, that it had been intended for the matchless songster which she now perceived she herself was not. chapter x. omens, charms, and divination. many books have been published, having a tendency to deceive the credulous, who suffer themselves to be guided by any thing but reason and experience. hence the encouragement bestowed on works of enchantment, dreams, omens, and fate. mankind have always discovered a propensity to peep behind the veil of futurity, and have been lavish of money in consulting persons and books that make a pretension of unravelling the decrees of fate, which lie hidden in the labyrinths of darkness. from these sources have arisen the following superstitions, as a sample of the many that have disturbed the peace of individuals, families, and sometimes of whole communities. "a coal in the shape of a coffin, flying out of the fire to any particular person, denotes his death is not far off. a collection of tallow rising up against the wick of a candle is called a winding-sheet, and deemed an omen of mortality. if, in eating, you miss your mouth, and the food falls, it is very unlucky, and denotes sickness. to dream you are dressed in black is an unlucky omen. some quarrel is about to happen between you and a friend or relative. sickness is about to attend your family. death will deprive you of some friend or relation. lawsuits will perplex and harass you. if you undertake a journey, it will be unsuccessful. if you are in love, it denotes that your sweetheart is very unhappy, and that sickness will attend her. if you are a farmer, your crops will fail, the murrain will attack your cattle, and some dreadful accident will happen by the overturning of one of your wagons. if you are in business, some one will arrest you, and you will have great difficulty in settling the matter. to dream of hen and chickens is the forerunner of ill luck. your sweetheart will betray you and marry another. if you go to law, the case will be decided against you. if you go to sea, you will lose your goods, and narrowly escape shipwreck. to dream of coals denotes much affliction and trouble. if you are in love, your sweetheart will prove false, and do every thing to injure you. to dream you see the coals extinguished, and reduced to cinders, denotes the death of yourself, or some near friend or relation. it also indicates great losses, and forewarns you of beggary and a prison. to dream you are married is ominous of death. it also denotes poverty, a prison, and misfortunes. to dream of lying with your newly-married husband or wife denotes danger and sudden misfortunes." _popular charms_ are equally absurd and nonsensical. for example, a ring made of the hinge of a coffin is good for the cramp. a halter with which a man has been hanged, if tied about the head, will cure the headache. a drop of blood of a black cat cures convulsions in children. if a tree of any kind be split, and weak, rickety, or ruptured children are drawn through it, and afterwards the tree is bound together, so as to make it unite--as the tree heals and grows together, so will the child acquire strength. if in a family the youngest daughter be married before her older sisters, they must all dance at her wedding without shoes, to counteract their ill luck, and procure themselves husbands. and to procure luck when a person goes out to transact business, you must throw an old shoe after him. to spit on the first money received for the price of goods sold on any day will procure luck. and that boxers must spit in their hands before they set to, for luck's sake. seamen have a superstition that if they whistle in a storm, the storm will be increased. and in time of a calm, they practise whistling to _call the wind_, as they term it. among farmers, in setting a hen, it is deemed lucky to use an odd number of eggs. among soldiers, salutes with cannon must be of an odd number. a royal salute is thrice seven, or twenty-one guns. healths are drank odd. yet the number _thirteen_ is sometimes deemed ominous; it being supposed that when thirteen persons meet in a room, one of them will die within the year. to know whether a woman shall have the man she desires, it is directed to get two lemon peels, and wear them all day, one in each pocket, and at night rub the four posts of the bedstead with them. if she is to succeed, the person will appear to her in her sleep, and present her with a couple of lemons. if not, there is no room for hope. and again the fair ones are directed to take a piece of wedding cake, draw it thrice through the wedding ring, lay it under their pillow, and they will certainly dream of their future husbands. a thousand other equally successful methods have been proposed to solve the mysteries of future fortune; and yet the magical stone, that will turn all our schemes into wished-for realities, remains to be discovered. as time advances, and knowledge pervades the abodes of darkness and ignorance, all this trumpery of ghosts, witches, fairies, tricks, and omens will go down to the "tomb of the capulets." people will be able to pass through the churchyard, sleep in an old house, though the wind whistle ever so shrill, without encountering any supernatural visitations. they will become wise enough to trace private and public calamities to other causes than the crossing of knives, the click of an insect, or even the portentous advent of a comet. thanks to the illustrious names recorded in the annals of science and letters, who have contributed towards so happy a consummation. chapter xi. modern miracles. there are some who profess to believe in modern miracles. but such belief necessarily partakes of superstition. the savior gave no intimation that miracles should continue after the establishment of christianity. he promised to be with his apostles even unto the end of that age. he declared that all who believed their instructions should also have power to cast out devils, heal diseases, speak with new tongues, and withstand any deadly thing. but his promise did not extend beyond the immediate converts of the apostles. and we have no satisfactory evidence that miracles were wrought by any but these; while we have abundant testimony that our savior's promise was literally fulfilled. in fact, there was no necessity for miracles after the establishment of christianity. they were first wrought as so many testimonies that jesus was the sent of god; and at the same time, were so many significant emblems of his designs, so many types and figures, aptly representing the benefits to be conferred upon the human race. but they were not designed to be perpetuated; for a history of divine revelation was committed to writing, and translated into the prevailing languages of the civilized world. if any could be so obstinate as not to be convinced of its divine origin by the mass of evidence with which it was accompanied, neither would they believe, though one should rise from the dead. pretended modern miracles admit of an easy explanation on natural principles. diseases have been suddenly healed; but imagination effected the cure. visions, ghosts, and apparitions have been seen; but they existed only in the minds of the observers, and were caused by some mental or bodily operation. but nothing of this kind can be said of the miracles of christ. his cannot be accounted for on any natural principles, but must have been caused by divine miraculous agency. modern miracles are not supported by satisfactory evidence. they have been mostly wrought in secret. no witnesses can be produced but the most interested. this was not the case with those of our savior. they were performed openly, and in the presence of friends and enemies. they could not be deceptions; for the resurrection of a dead person could be tested by the evidence of the senses. the remark of judge howe may be appropriately introduced in this connection. he had thoroughly and impartially studied the evidences of christianity, and a firm belief in its divine origin was the result. he observed that no jury could be found that would give a verdict against christianity, if the evidences on both sides could be fairly presented before them, and they were governed in forming their opinion by the common rules of belief. the truth of this observation is confirmed by the fact, that candid inquirers after truth have uniformly risen from an examination of the evidences of christianity believers in its divine origin. the same cannot be said of modern miracles. no jury could be obtained of disinterested persons, who would give a verdict in their favor. therefore we have no satisfactory evidence of their reality. our safest course is to admit the conclusion of eminent writers of all denominations, namely, that miracles ceased with the first converts of christianity. chapter xii. pretended prophets and christs. many have professed a belief in the divine inspiration of some one of the many false prophets or christs that have appeared in different ages of the church. in the year , there was a man in this country, calling himself matthias, who declared that he was the very christ, and pretended that he had come to judge the world. and strange as it may seem, he was attended by some individuals of quite respectable standing, who worshipped him as god! he appeared in pontifical robes, with his rule in his right hand, and his two-edged sword in the left. underneath a rich olive broadcloth cloak, lined and faced with silk and velvet, he wore a brown frock coat, with several stars on each breast, and a splendid golden star on his left breast. his belt was of white cloth fastened by a golden clasp, surmounted by an eagle. he occasionally put on a cocked hat, of black beaver, trimmed with green, the rear angle being surmounted by the golden symbol of glory. on being asked where his residence was, and what was his occupation, he replied, "i am a traveller, and my legal residence is zion hill, westchester county, new york; i am a jewish teacher and priest of the most high, saying and doing all that i do, under oath, by virtue of my having subscribed to all the covenants that god hath made with man from the beginning up to this time. i am chief high priest of the jews of the order of melchizedec, being the last chosen of the twelve apostles, and the first in the resurrection which is at the end of years from the birth of mahomet, which terminated in , that being the summit of the power of the false prophets. i am now denouncing judgment on the gentiles, and that judgment is to be executed in this age. all the blood from zacharias till the death of the last witness is required of this generation. before this generation passeth away, this judgment shall be executed and declared. the hour of god's judgment is come." matthias commenced his public career in albany; but not making many converts there, he soon removed to the city of new york. here he met with but little success for some time; but it appears that in the autumn of , he had succeeded in ingratiating himself into the favor of a number of individuals, among whom were three of the most wealthy and respectable merchants of pearl street. he represented himself to them to be the spirit of truth, which had disappeared from the earth at the death of matthias mentioned in the new testament, and that the spirit of jesus christ entered into that matthias whom he now represented, having risen again from the dead. this blasphemous impostor pretended to possess the spirit of jesus of nazareth, and that he now, at his second appearance of the spirit, was the father, and had power to do all things, forgiving sins, and communicating the holy ghost to such as believed on him. and what was most astonishing and unparalleled, these men, who were before professors of the christian religion, were blind enough to believe and confide in all he imposed on them. so completely did he succeed in deluding these men, and in impressing them with the belief that he was actually a high priest of the order of the mysterious melchizedec, upon a divine mission to establish the kingdom of god upon the earth, that he obtained entire control over them and their estates. "i know the end of all things," he would assert, illustrating it by placing a piece of paper in a drawer, leaving one end upon the outside, and saying, "you can see but one end of the paper, and so the world sees; but i see the whole length of it--i see the end." whenever he saw fit to call upon his dupes to contribute of their substance for his support and the promotion of the kingdom he was about to establish, he did so; and if they refused to provide him whatever money he desired, he threatened to visit upon them (which he declared he had the power to do) the wrath of the almighty. but if they believed in him and obeyed him in all things, he promised them that they should be called into the kingdom, and he would forgive all their sins, and they should enjoy eternal happiness. impudent and blasphemous as such language and pretensions truly were, the intended effect was produced, and the prophet received new encouragement by the gratification of pecuniary abundance. this object gained, he was enabled to adorn his person with costly apparel, and to obtain other appurtenances and furniture which he thought were necessary, that all things might correspond to the nature and dignity of the office which he had assumed. in august, , two of his friends and proselytes, messrs. pierson and folger, were residing at sing sing, westchester county. thither, about that time, matthias repaired, and took up his residence with mr. folger and family. in a week or two, matthias came to the conclusion that their dwelling-place did not correspond with his character, and accordingly suggested to folger and pierson that it was their duty to hire, for his use, a house which he might consecrate wholly to himself. in this he was accommodated, not only without any hesitation, but with the acknowledgment that the request was reasonable. soon after this, it appeared to matthias's mind, that his habitation should not be subject to worldly interests or infidel intrusion; and he accordingly presumed to require of his two obedient followers the purchase of a house to be exclusively his own. with this request they agreed to comply. before it was accomplished, however, matthias manifested some new attribute of his character, and accompanied the revelation by an effort to make folger believe that the house in which he then resided at sing sing, and had purchased some time previous for the use of himself and family, was purchased at the instigation of the spirit of truth, for him, matthias--folger having been the instrument under the influence of that spirit for that purpose! so complete was matthias's control, that folger believed even this! and having resided with messrs. folger and pierson about two months, he took _this_ house, thus miraculously purchased, into his own especial charge. matthias then required these gentlemen to give him an account of their property, and having obtained this statement, which exhibited their easy circumstances, he required both of them to enter into an agreement to support him, assuring them they should receive the blessing of god by so doing. this agreement was accordingly entered into, and matthias enjoyed the full benefits of it for several months, when mr. folger became bankrupt. his wants were afterwards supplied by pierson, until the death of mr. p., which took place under very suspicious circumstances. it seems that a short time previous to this melancholy event, and while mr. pierson was yet in health, matthias prevailed upon him to assign him his whole estate. and it seemed, by matthias's account on his examination, that messrs. folger, pierson, and mills frequently declared to him that they believed him to be the _father_, and that he was qualified to establish god's kingdom on earth, and that zion hill, which was the place miraculously purchased at sing sing, was transferred to him for that purpose, together with horses, carriages, and furniture of a house in third street, new york--that it was also agreed that the house and lot in third street should be conveyed to him, and that mr. pierson directed a deed to be made out accordingly, but died before it was completed. he still considered the property as his own for the original purpose, and considered it the beginning of the establishment of the kingdom. it is certain that mr. pierson was suddenly taken sick, and it was believed to be immediately after this contract was made. he fell under the care of matthias, who would neither allow his friends to visit him, nor to call medical aid, declaring himself to "_have power of life and death_." mr. pierson's body having been removed to new jersey for interment, a post mortem examination was held by four respectable physicians, all of whom certified that they found in the stomach a "_large quantity of an unwholesome and deadly substance_." matthias was therefore arrested with the charge of having poisoned mr. pierson, on which he gave bail for appearance at court. soon after this, he went to the city of new york, and entering the family of mr. folger, resided with them for several months; but the mysterious death of mr. pierson, and the attending circumstances, having shaken the confidence of mr. folger and his family, they began to be conscious of their delusion, and resolved to abandon matthias and his principles. on announcing their determination to him, he resorted to his old practice of threats and promises, and told them they must not throw him destitute on the world; that, if they did so, the blessing of god would depart from them, and sickness and perhaps death would follow; but if they gave him money to support him, the blessing of god should continue to them. mr. folger having become bankrupt, matthias perhaps was willing to leave him--not, however, without having first insisted on a supply of money, which he obtained to the amount of six hundred and thirty dollars, and immediately left the city. on the morning of that day, matthias partook of a very little breakfast, and scarcely tasted of the coffee, alleging, as an excuse, that he was ill. immediately after breakfast, mr. folger, his wife, and children were taken sick. mr. folger did not suspect the cause of their illness, until after matthias had left the city, when, upon examination, he learned that the black woman who did the cooking for the family had also abstained from the use of coffee that morning; and from other circumstances he became confirmed that the woman was bribed by matthias to poison the family. the effort was unsuccessful, the poison producing but a temporary effect. this nefarious transaction induced mr. folger to procure the arrest of matthias, firmly convinced, at this melancholy stage, that he was a _base impostor_. the third gentleman named as one of the dupes of matthias became a lunatic under the unfortunate delusion. but on a removal to the country, and from the influence of the "prophet," he recovered, and became convinced of his lamentable error. in the sequel, it appeared that matthias had received in the aggregate, from these gentlemen, about ten thousand dollars in money, and negotiable paper, which he appropriated in furnishing the establishment at zion hill and in third street. and by whatever means he obtained money, it is evident he used it for the wildest and most extravagant purposes. his wardrobe was most bountifully supplied with new boots, shoes, and pumps; linen shirts of the most exquisite fineness, the wristbands fringed with delicate lace; silk stockings, handkerchiefs, and gloves; coats embroidered with gold; merino morning dresses; and two caps made of linen cambric, folded in the form of a mitre, richly embroidered, one with the names of the twelve apostles written around it, and "jesus matthias" adorning the front in prominent characters, the other surrounded with the names of the twelve tribes, the front like the other. with his two-edged sword (with gold chain and mountings) he was to destroy the gentiles, as gideon did the midianites. with his six feet rule he was to measure the new jerusalem, "the gates thereof, and the walls thereof," and divide it into lots for those who believed on him, and obeyed the spirit of truth, as it came from him, the trumpet. with the golden key which he possessed, he was to unlock the gates of paradise. somewhat versed in the rites and antiquities of the jews, this impostor united with a quick and active mind a considerable cunning, a fluent speech, and a vast amount of persevering impudence, and endeavored to impress his dogmas by assuming a sanctified and uncompromising air, and by invariably fixing upon his victim his remarkably fierce and penetrating eyes. he reasoned plausibly and ingeniously, and was exceedingly subtle at evasion. although he never could have obtained an extensive and permanent influence, even if his knavery had not been detected, since his schemes were too wild and incoherent, and his demands too absurd to produce an effect that would endure beyond his actual and immediate presence, yet that his blasphemous pretensions should have gained any credence among intelligent minds is to be greatly lamented. the whole history of these transactions will form a dark page in the records of modern fanaticism, and will present an enduring but melancholy evidence of the weakness of human nature. as an excuse for the conduct of matthias, or matthews, which was his real name, he was supposed by some to be laboring under monomania, partly hereditary and partly superinduced by religious fanaticism and frenzy. still, he was not without "method in his madness;" and it seems evident that, with a tinge of insanity, he was also much of a knave, and probably a dupe in part to his own imposture. during his confinement in jail, awaiting his trial for the alleged murder of mr. pierson, matthias issued a decree, commanding all the farmers to lay aside their ploughs, declaring, "as i live, there shall be no more sowing in the earth until i, the twelfth and last of the apostles, am delivered out of the house of bondage." he also prophesied that if he were convicted, white plains should be destroyed by an earthquake, and not an inhabitant be left to tell the tale of its destruction; and strange to say, men were not found wanting who believed in his absurd and blasphemous predictions. on trial, the physicians who had examined the stomach of the deceased were led to suspect poison, but could not say positively that poison had been administered; whereupon the prisoner was discharged, on the ground that no evidence had been produced to convict him either of murder or manslaughter. in the case of his arrest at the instigation of mr. folger, that gentleman afterwards wrote to the district attorney, requesting him to dismiss the case, it not appearing to be an indictable one, and declaring, that the day--"so far as passing himself for a _pure_ and _upright_ man--has passed, and there is no danger of his imposing upon any one here or elsewhere." in a letter written by mr. folger, dated new york, nov. , , and published in the commercial advertiser, mr. folger says, "my object is now to rid myself of him and all connected with him, with as little trouble as possible. mr. pierson, myself, and family have been deeply, very deeply deluded, deceived, and imposed upon; and i regret exceedingly that the former could not have been spared to witness the deep deception. we are sensible of our error--we repent it sincerely; and although we cannot expect to recover, at present, the situation which we held in society previous to our acquaintance with this vile creature, yet in time we shall be able to show that we are enemies to him, and all who undertake to sustain him in his wickedness and plans to destroy us." for closeness of resemblance, in many striking features, to the case of matthias, was that of the anabaptists of munster, in germany, which excited the wonder of europe during the early part of the seventeenth century, and of which such strange accounts are to be found in the histories of that epoch. the similarity between the principal of this sect, known as john of leyden, and matthews, not only in doctrine, but in worldly observance, in the passion for magnificence of apparel and luxurious living, and in the rites and ceremonies exacted by each, is so remarkable as almost to lead to the conclusion that the latter had formed himself and his creed upon the model of his ancient prototype. the number of deluded proselytes who blindly followed the dictates of the anabaptist leader was at one time so great, and their power so formidable, that several princes of germany united against them; and it was not until after a vigorous siege, and an obstinate resistance, that the city of munster, of which the fanatics had obtained complete possession, was taken and their power broken down. this john of leyden wore upon his head a triple crown of gold, richly adorned with gems. around his neck he wore, suspended by a golden chain, an ornament of gold, representing the terrestrial globe, with a cross, and two swords, one of gold, the other of silver, with the inscription, "king of righteousness over the whole world." he also assumed the title of "the father," and he required all his followers to pledge themselves to do his will, and, if necessary, to suffer death at his command, or in his defence and service. he enjoined and enforced a community of goods, a surrender of all possessions, land, money, arms, and merchandise to him, as the father and lord of all, to be employed by him in the universal establishment of his kingdom; and he denounced the vengeance of heaven and eternal damnation on all such as refused to believe in him and do his will. all churches and convents he commanded to be destroyed, the priests denounced as children of darkness, and all sovereigns he would put to death. he proclaimed the nullity of all marriages, except such as were solemnized by himself or his own prophets, but enjoined polygamy, himself setting the example. each of his principal followers had from six to eight wives, and both men and women were compelled to marry. he taught that no man understood the scriptures but himself, or those whom he enlightened with his spirit, and all the prophecies in the old testament, relating to the savior, he applied to himself, and proclaimed their fulfilment in the establishment of his kingdom. in our own country, the most surprising instance of imposture and delusion, perhaps, that has occurred, was that of the cochranites, whose enormities in licentiousness made so much stir in maine and new hampshire a few years since. cochrane was an officer in the army, thrown out of commission by the reduction of the military establishment of the united states, after the conclusion of the last war with england. having become poor and penniless, he left portland, and struck off into the country, seeking his fortune, and caring not whither he went. one day, as night drew on, he found himself near a farm house, weary and hungry, and without a penny to purchase a mouthful of food or the use of a pillow for the night. the thought struck him suddenly of throwing himself upon the hospitality of the farmer, for the occasion, in the character of a minister. introducing himself as such to the family, he was cordially received, and as the country was new and destitute of clergymen, the good people forthwith despatched messengers to the neighbors, that a minister had come among them, and invited them in to attend a meeting. the impostor had not anticipated so speedy a trial of his clerical character; but having assumed it, there was no escape--he must act the part, for the time being, in the best way he could. being neither ignorant nor destitute of talents, he succeeded in acquitting himself much better than he had anticipated, and gave so much satisfaction to his audience as to induce him to persevere in the imposture he had commenced. as he acquired skill and confidence by practice in his new vocation, his popularity increased, and he soon found it a profitable occupation. he was followed by multitudes, and it was not long before he announced himself as some great one, and founded a new sect of religionists. his command over the audiences which he addressed is said to have been wonderful, and his influence over his followers unbounded. it seemed as though he was enabled to hold the victims of his impostures in a state of enchantment. a professor in an eastern college having heard of the wonderful sway which cochrane held over his disciples, and of the impressions he made upon casual hearers, determined one evening to go and witness his performances. while present, although a very cool and grave personage, he said he felt some strange, undefinable, mysterious influence creeping over him to such a degree, that he was obliged actually to tear himself away, in apprehension of the consequences. this gentleman, however, was a believer in animal magnetism, and was therefore inclined to attribute it to that cause. it was said that if the impostor did but touch the hand or neck of a female, his power over her person and reason was complete. consequently it led to the most open and loathsome sensuality. so atrocious was his conduct, that he seduced great numbers of females, married and unmarried, under the pretext of raising up a holy race of men. the peace of many families was broken up, and the village kept an establishment like a seraglio--a disgusting and melancholy commentary upon the weakness of human nature. his career, however, was but of short duration. a history of religious impostures would form a library of itself. the human mind, in all ages and countries, and under all forms of government and religion, seems to have been wonderfully susceptible of delusion and imposition upon that subject, which, of all others, is the most important for time and eternity. the court of egypt was deluded by the impostors who undertook to contend with moses. and the chosen people themselves, notwithstanding the direct disclosures which the most high had made of himself, in all their wonderful history, were prone to turn aside from the worship of the true god, to follow the lying spirits of the prophets of baal and other deceivers, from the days of moses till the destruction of jerusalem. so, likewise, under the christian dispensation, from the defection of simon magus to the wild delirium of edward irving, there have been a succession of antichrists, until their name is legion--pretenders to divine missions, the power of working miracles, the gift of tongues--perverting the scriptures, leading astray silly men and women--destroying the peace of families, throwing communities into confusion, and firebrands into the church--clouding the understandings, and blinding the moral perceptions of men, and subverting the faith of these even whose mountains stood strong, and who had been counted among the chosen people of god. "in the last days," says the apostle peter, "there shall come scoffers, walking after their own lusts,"--"chiefly them which walk after the flesh, in the lust of uncleanness, and despise government; presumptuous are they, self-willed; they are not afraid to speak evil of dignities; sporting themselves in their own deceivings, having eyes full of adultery, and that cannot cease from sin; beguiling unstable souls; for when they speak great swelling words of vanity, they allure through the flesh, through much wantonness, those that were clean escaped from them who live in error; while they promise them liberty, they themselves are the servants of corruption." jude also admonishes us "to remember that they were foretold as mockers, who should be in the last time, who should walk after their own ungodly lusts. these be they who separate themselves, sensual, not having the spirit." it is wonderful to observe with what precision these prophecies have been fulfilled by the clouds of impostors who have appeared--"spoken great swollen words of vanity," and fallen--since the inspired sentences were uttered. and it may be regarded as one of the evidences of the truth of inspiration, that, had the long array of apostates and deceivers actually stood before the sacred penmen, at the time of their writing, their characters all naked before them, the likenesses, from the first christian apostate to the sensual mormons, could not have been drawn with greater fidelity. the "truth of god," distinctly set forth in the book of revelation, is an infallible criterion by which to test the true character of any religious opinion or practice; nor can any radical or fundamental error long escape detection, when subjected to this plain and unerring standard. chapter xiii. mormon superstition. a certain joseph smith, jr., pretended, a few years ago, to have been directed by the spirit of god to dig, in a hill, in the township of manchester, ontario county, new york, for a set of golden plates which were there concealed, and upon which were inscribed sacred records by the hands of mormon. he obeyed the direction and found the plates. the inscriptions upon them were in an unknown tongue. but, by the special power of the spirit, smith was enabled to translate them. a volume containing these writings was soon after published, constituting, in the whole, fifteen books, purporting to have been written at different times, and by the different authors whose names they respectively bear. in these writings there seems to be a bungling attempt to imitate the style of the sacred scriptures. but the attempt is manifestly unsuccessful. nearly two thirds of the paragraphs are introduced with the phrase, "and it came to pass." in endeavoring to preserve the solemn style of the scriptures, there is great disregard of grammatical propriety. we read, "the lord _sayeth_ unto me, and i _sayeth_ unto the lord." perhaps a few extracts, selected at chance, will give the reader a more correct idea of the general style of the book than any remarks we might offer. "and it came to pass that when they had _arriven_ in the borders of the land of the lamanites." "and it came to pass that i nephi did make _bellowses_ wherewith to blow the fire." "and it came to pass that limhi and many of his people _was_ desirous to be baptized." the mormon preachers claim for themselves and the members of their church the power of working miracles, and of speaking with new tongues. they jabber with some strange sounds, and call this the speaking with tongues. they assert it as a fact, that among them the dead have been raised, and the sick healed, as in the days of christ and his apostles. from these _facts_, as they call them, they draw the conclusion that _they_ are the members of the true church of christ. the doctrine increases among men; and well it may, for there are circumstances in the condition and views of those who embrace it which are calculated to secure its success. in a large portion of the community there is a great degree of ignorance in regard to the geography of the sacred scriptures, the manners and customs of the jews, and the natural history of the bible. there are many who read their bibles daily, and with true devotional feelings, it may be, who have no idea that the places mentioned in sacred history, like those mentioned in any other history, can be traced on the map, can be found and visited at the present day, although disguised under modern names. it makes no part of their study of the bible to ascertain where the places mentioned are to be found, and what they are now called. they have no idea that the allusions to manners and customs, found in the bible, can be understood, through an acquaintance with the practices and habits of the people described; and, consequently, the study of jewish manners and customs makes no part of their preparation for understanding the scriptures. they have no idea that the allusion in scripture to facts in natural history can be verified by an acquaintance with that science, and therefore they make no exertions to understand the natural history of the bible. they do not take up the bible and read it with the expectation of being able to understand it, in regard to these particulars, as they would understand any other book. all such are prepared, by their ignorance on these subjects, to become the dupes of the mormon delusion; or, at least, they are not prepared to withstand this delusion. they open the book of mormon, claiming to be a kind of appendix to the bible. the paragraphs begin with the phrase, "and behold it came to pass." they read of the cities of zarahemla, gid, mulek, corianton, and a multitude of others. they read of prophets and preachers, of faith, repentance, and obedience; and having been accustomed, in reading the scriptures, to take all such things just as they are presented, without careful examination, they can see no reason why all this is not as much entitled to belief as are the records of the old and new testaments. but if, on the contrary, they were acquainted with the geography and the natural history of the bible, and with the manners and customs of the nations there mentioned, and especially if, in their reading of the scriptures, they were accustomed to examine carefully into these points, they would at once perceive the utter impossibility of identifying the cities mentioned in the book of mormon with any geographical traces which they can now make. they would thus perceive the deception, and be put on their guard. and then, too, upon further examination, they would discover that the manners and customs of the people, the sentiments and disputes, are not such as belong to the period of the world in which the people are represented to have lived; that they take their coloring from modern customs, from modern opinions and controversies; and, upon these discoveries, they would be led to reject the whole as a fabrication. many are deceived in consequence of the fluency of the preachers in warning sinners. they pray with fervor; the people are affected; and the spirit of god is declared to be present, owning and blessing the work. but there is deception here. it is but a few years since the cochrane delusion, as it is called, prevailed in and around the village of saco, maine. what gave that delusion so much success? it was because cochrane spoke with great fluency, warned sinners with great earnestness, and poured forth his prayers with zealous fervor. the people became affected; many were in tears; many sobbed aloud, cried for mercy, and some became prostrate on the floor. "surely," it was remarked, "the doctrines advanced by cochrane must be true, the preaching of them being so signally owned and blessed of god." in this way, men of sound judgment in other respects are carried away by false views and appearances, and become the dupes of the most extravagant sentiments and delusions. they become "zealously affected," but it is not, as the apostle says, "in a good thing." a correct knowledge of the sacred scriptures, and of proper principles in regard to the study of the bible, with sound and rational views of the nature of religion, and of the influences of the holy spirit, will serve to correct all such tendencies to error and deception. from the best account that has been published respecting the _origin_ of the mormon bible, it appears that it was written by an individual named solomon spaulding, some twenty-five years ago; but without the least intention, on the part of the author, of framing a system of delusion for his fellow-men. this spaulding was a native of ashford, in connecticut, where he was distinguished, at an early age, for his devotion to study, and for the superiority of his success over that of his schoolmates. he received an academic education, and commenced the study of law at windham; but his mind inclining to religious subjects, he abandoned the law, went to dartmouth college, prepared himself for the ministry, and was regularly ordained. for some reasons unknown he soon abandoned that profession, and established himself as a merchant at cherry valley, new york. failing in trade, he removed to conneaut, in ohio, where he built a forge; but again failed, and was reduced to great poverty. while in this condition, he endeavored to turn his education to account, by writing a book, the sale of which he hoped would enable him to pay his debts and support his family. the subject selected by him was one well suited to his religious education. it was an historical novel, containing an account of the aborigines of america, who were supposed by some to have descended from the ten tribes of israel. the work was entitled the "manuscript found," and the history commenced with one lehi, who lived in the reign of zedekiah, king of judea, six hundred years before the christian era. lehi, being warned of heaven of the dreadful calamities that were impending over jerusalem, abandoned his possessions, and fled with his family to the wilderness. after wandering for some time, they arrived at the red sea, and embarked on board a vessel. in this, after floating about for a long time, they reached america, and landed at the isthmus of darien. from the different branches of this family were made to spring all the indian nations of this continent. from time to time they rose to high degrees of civilization and refinement; but desolating wars among themselves scattered and degraded them. the manuscript was written in the style of the bible, the old english style of james the first. when the work was ready for the press, spaulding endeavored to obtain the pecuniary assistance necessary for its publication, but his affairs were in so low a condition that he could not succeed. he then removed to pittsburg, and afterwards to amity, in pennsylvania, where he died. by some means or other, the manuscript fell into the hands of joseph smith, jr., who afterwards published it under the name of the "golden bible." smith was the son of very poor and superstitious parents, and was for a long time engaged in digging for kidd's money, and other feats of like description. possessing considerable shrewdness, he became somewhat skilled in feats of necromancy and juggling. he had the address to collect about him a gang of idle and credulous young men, whom he employed in digging for hidden treasures. it is pretended that, in one of the excavations they made, the mysterious plates from which the golden bible was copied were found. such, briefly is the origin of the mormon faith--a humbug to which not a few, otherwise sensible men, have pinned their hopes of happiness here and hereafter. after the death of joseph smith, and shortly before the mormons were driven out from illinois, many of the disciples of the great impostor seceded and refused to acknowledge the leadership of the knowing twelve who became his successors. among them were a very pious mormon named mcghee vanduzen, and his wife maria. they soon gave to the world an exposition of the shameful manoeuvres attendant upon mormonism as a religion; of the absurd and indecent ceremonies which the unprincipled leaders of that wicked imposture enforced upon their infatuated disciples. smith, and his associate leaders at nauvoo, evidently established these ceremonies for the base purpose of enticing the more beautiful females among his disciples to their ruin and disgrace. the shameful character of the mysteries developed could lead to no other conclusion. says the boston traveller, of april , , "the rapid spread of mormonism is one of the mysteries of the age. a more barefaced delusion, except that of the spiritual rappings, was never imposed on the all-swallowing credulity of mankind. yet it has gained adherents by thousands in europe as well as in the united states." chapter xiv. miller delusion. a man by the name of william miller published a book in the year , in which he undertook to show that this earth would be destroyed in the year . his calculation, as to the transpiration of such an event during the said year, is founded upon the prophecy of daniel, that the _sanctuary should be cleansed!_ in two thousand three hundred days. he took the days to mean years, and began his reckoning from the going forth of the commandment to restore jerusalem, mentioned in a subsequent vision. why did he not begin the reckoning from the date of the vision itself? because this would not answer mr. miller's turn. to tell the people that the earth was to be burned up in , would produce little or no excitement. he must hit upon a time for the beginning which would make the end yet future, in order to gratify his love for the marvellous. that mr. miller intended to manage his reckoning of time to suit his own scheme, is obvious from his different computations of time, to _make_ his interpretations of other prophecies comport with his application of the two thousand three hundred days. daniel says, "and from the time that the daily sacrifice shall be taken away, and the abomination that maketh desolate set up, there shall be a thousand two hundred and ninety days." "blessed is he that waiteth, and cometh to the thousand three hundred and five and thirty days." taking the thousand three hundred and thirty-five days to reach from the taking away of the daily sacrifice, and setting up the abomination that maketh desolate, to the resurrection, he subtracts the thousand three hundred and thirty-five from it, and finds the remainder to be five hundred and eight, which must, to suit his calculation, be the year of our lord in which the daily sacrifice should be taken away, &c. then, to get at the taking away of a daily sacrifice, and the setting up of an abomination that maketh desolate, which should come any where in the neighborhood of this date, he makes the taking away of the daily sacrifice to be the doing away of the pagan worship in rome, and the setting up the abomination spoken of to be the commencement of the papal authority. this he sets at a.d. , without reference to fact, because his reckoning of prophetic time brings it so. the truth is, that the pagan character of rome ceased soon after the conversion of the emperor constantine to christianity, which was about a.d. . this makes about years' difference in the age of the world, and brings it to an end in , over years ago! but let us examine a little farther. having come, as we have shown, at a.d. , which, having taken from the years of christ's life , leaves from the death of christ, he proceeds to add up: the weeks, or years, to the crucifixion of christ, ; from the crucifixion of christ to the taking away the daily sacrifice, . and here are his time, times, and half, which he takes to be the duration of the pagan reign, i.e., three years and a half, which, taking a day for a year, makes . here, then, he has his whole time, down to the end of his second or papal transgression of desolation, which he has all along held to be the end of the world. but these several numbers added amount to but , short of the , reckoning from the going forth of the decree to rebuild jerusalem. and what now shall be done? how shall the years be made up to bring the end of the world to ? why, he succeeds in finding two different numbers in the th of daniel, viz., and . and nothing is easier, when you have two different numbers, to substract the less from the greater. this he does in the present case, and finds the difference to be just . well, what of that? why, he says this is the time which was to elapse between the destruction of the great beast in his second or papal character, and the resurrection! he does not pretend that the vision mentions this, but so he fixes it. he is like a country schoolmaster, who, not always finding it easy to manage by rules, when a scholar would carry him a sum which he could not work, he would look at the answer in the book, and get the difference between that and his own, and then he would slip in the ascertained difference, somewhere in the operation, to be added or substracted, as the case might require, to bring the answer as he wished it. but although he succeeded in finding years, he is still minus , for it brings out the end in . and how shall the other years be found? it must be gotten somehow, for who will believe it as it now stands? yet this extraordinary man meets with no difficulty in finding the years. in his parade of parts, of factors, to make up the great whole, he sets down for the space between the putting down of the pagan power, to the setting up the same power, years! and how he gets this number there, no mortal can tell. yes, he tells us himself. considering himself so great a prophet, he seems to think that his own suppositions will certainly pass among others as good authority. he therefore unblushingly tells us that he _supposes_ this years. hear him, (page .) "therefore, to reconcile these two statements, _we must conclude_ there were years from a.d. , when paganism ceased, before the image beast, or papal rome, would begin her reign. _if_ this is correct, then," &c. here, then, the foundation on which he keeps the world standing from to , is a simple _if_. and to get in these supposititious years, between the death of the pagan and the life of the papal beast, he involves himself in a maze of absurdity. he makes the taking away of the daily sacrifice to be the putting an end to the papal beast, that did daily sacrifice to idol abominations. the little horn, by whom the daily sacrifice was taken away, mr. miller takes to be the papal beast, or catholic church. this beast takes away the daily sacrifice, i.e., puts an end to the pagan beast, and yet does not exist until years after the pagan beast is dead. this is truly an unheard of strait for a schemer to come to, to be obliged, in order to bring out his reckoning, to get years between the existence of two beasts, one of which kills the other. the second beast slays the first, and performs many wonderful works, years before he has any existence! no marvel that the man who could see into such mysteries should imagine that he could see the end of the world in ! mr. miller commits various other errors in his calculations and dates, as, for instance, he states that pagan rome commenced years before christ, whereas rome was founded by romulus, as an independent government, years before christ, being pagan from its beginning. he dates the erection of the papal authority at a.d. . by the papal power he means, of course,--not the papal doctrine, for that existed much earlier than ,--but the establishment of the civil authority. and this was not until about a.d. . indeed, mr. miller is palpably wrong in nearly all his positions; and the reason is, he is not looking for facts, but for reckonings to fill out his own scheme. and even in this, too, he fails. on page of his course of lectures, first published in , speaking of events to happen in , he holds the following language: "he that is filthy will be filthy still. mankind will, for a short season, give loose to all the corrupt passions of the human heart. no laws, human or divine, will be regarded; all authority will be trampled under foot; anarchy will be the order of government, and confusion _fill the world with horror and despair_. murder, treason, and crime will be _common law_, and division and disunion _the only bond of fellowship_. christians will be persecuted unto death, and dens and caves of the earth will be their retreat. _all things_ which are not _eternal_ will be _shaken to pieces_, that which cannot be shaken may remain. and this, if i am right in my calculations, will begin _on or before_ a.d. . 'and at _that time_ ( ) thy people shall be delivered, every one that shall be found written in the book.' _now_ is come salvation indeed. the people of god are _now_ to be delivered from outward foes and inbred lusts, from the corruptions of the grave and the vileness of the flesh. every one, the poor and despised child of god, will _then_ (in ) be delivered when he makes up his jewels.'" mr. miller, in finding that things did not take place as he prophesied, put a note in the end of his book, on the last page, stating that he had made a _mistake of one year_ in some of his computations, and hence these things which he _supposed_ would take place in , according to the first computation, will not be realized until the year ! and yet passed over our heads, and these things did not take place. on page of his lectures, he says the sixth vial was poured out in , when the ottoman power began to be dried up. this he considered to be a very important sign, indicating that we were on the very brink of the _judgment day_. here he introduces rev. xvi. . "and the sixth angel poured out his vial upon the great river euphrates; and the waters thereof were dried up, that the way of the kings of the earth might be prepared." this preparation, mr. m. says, is for the last great battle, which will take place at the pouring out of the seventh vial, in the year or . "at the pouring out of the seventh vial, a voice from the throne will pronounce the words, _it is done_. the kingdoms of the earth and the governments of the world will be carried away, and their places be known no more." but these kingdoms still remain. mr. miller's last assumption was, that christ would come in the spring of , at the date corresponding with the ending of the jewish year for . mr. m. says, in his preface to his book, "if i have erred in my exposition of the prophecies, _the time, being so near at hand_, will soon expose my folly." he had already seen the folly of some of his computations, and he seemed to fear lest it might prove the same in the final result also. and this he soon experienced, as may be seen by reading his _confession_, made at the tabernacle in boston, on the evening of may , . he there stated that what he had preached and published respecting the coming of the lord in was done honestly; (!) that he fully believed it; but that the time had now _passed_, and he was _proved to be mistaken_; that when the time arrived and the event did not take place, he felt bad--felt lonely--thought he should never have any more to say in public; that he felt worse on the account of others than he did for himself. he said there was an error somewhere in his calculations, but he could not tell where. he had now no definite time--he should wait god's time: it might come in a day, it might not come in fifty years; he could not say exactly when; he was waiting. thus the whole affair exploded--came to nought; although much evil in regard to mr. miller's prophecies may yet be experienced in the community. some will yet cling most obstinately to the system, and still maintain that christ may be expected every day, hour, or minute, while others will fix upon some other date within a short period of time. they will still refer us to certain signs in the starry heavens, endeavoring to persuade the people to believe that the whole machinery of nature is out of joint, and that this is a certain precursor to the speedy dissolution of the world. one of the second advent preachers gave the startling intelligence that "_fifteen hundred_ stars had _recently_ faded from the vault of heaven." but what are the facts? not more than _thirteen_ stars are recorded in the annals of astronomy as having been lost; and so far from having faded _recently_, some of them disappeared many ages since. it is not even certain that any stars have been blotted out. there are nearly one hundred variable stars which have periods of unusual brilliancy, and then gradually fade till nearly invisible, and after a time revive again. the thirteen missing stars may be of this description. these changes were observed many centuries ago. the bright star which appeared suddenly, with unusual splendor and brilliancy, in cassiopeia, in , is supposed to be the same star which suddenly appeared in the same place, with great lustre, about the year , and also about years before, during the intervals of which it was invisible. the same preacher adduced the aurora borealis as another sign of the last days. "is it not remarkable," says he, "that no record of them appears till _quite recently_?" but what are the facts? it was indeed supposed by many, who had not investigated the subject, that the aurora was first seen in england in ; but on examination we find it spoken of in , in a scientific work, entitled a description of meteors, published soon after the invention of printing, subsequent to which, and before , there are many accounts of the same phenomenon. many have supposed that nothing has ever before appeared, similar to the remarkable _red aurora_, which was witnessed on the evening of january , . yet such spectacles have often been witnessed in the northern parts of sweden, lapland, and siberia, and in remote and different periods. the aurora is a great blessing in those high northern latitudes, where the sun is absent for many weeks, furnishing the inhabitants with a splendid light, in the midst of their dreary winter nights. gmelin describes the aurora borealis of those regions as differing in color according to the states of the atmosphere, "sometimes assuming the appearance of blood." he observes that "they frequently begin with single bright pillars rising in the north, and almost at the same time in the north-east, which, gradually increasing, comprehend a large space in the heavens, rush about, with incredible velocity, from place to place, and finally almost cover the whole sky to the zenith, producing an appearance as if a vast tent was expanded in the heavens, glittering with gold, rubies, and sapphire. a more beautiful spectacle cannot be painted." these lights occasionally come so far south as to illuminate the sky in our latitude. sometimes they have not appeared for many years. in , these lights were seen in england, though never witnessed before by the oldest inhabitants living; and, as might be expected, they were alarmed, and actually supposed the day of judgment had come. from barber's history of new england, we learn that the first appearance of the northern lights in this country, after the period of its first settlement, was on december , , "when they were remarkably bright; and, as people in general had never heard of such a phenomenon, they were extremely alarmed with the apprehension of the final judgment. all amusements, all business, and even sleep was interrupted, for want of a little knowledge of history." we were told by some of the advent preachers that meteors and shooting stars, falling to the earth, were never seen until . but this is a great mistake. as early as the year , theophanes relates, "the sky appeared to be on fire, with the coruscations of flying meteors." virgil, in his book of georgics, speaks as follows:-- "and oft, before tempestuous winds arise, the seeming _stars fall headlong_ from the skies, and, _shooting_ through the darkness, gild the night with sweeping glories and _long trails of light_." in , under the reign of justinian, were seen showers of falling stars in extraordinary numbers. in , under that of constantine capronymus, the same spectacle was witnessed. in , in the month of november, it is said, in vogel's leipzig chronicles, that there was seen an unheard-of number of falling stars, burning torches, and fiery darts in the sky. in , on the th of november, the great meteoric stone fell at ensisheim, in alsace. on the th of august, , numerous falling stars appeared in many parts of the heavens, like fireflies. but we are told of the sun and moon appearing like blood, and that this sign of our lord's second coming was never witnessed, since the resurrection, till the year . yet this is likewise a mistake; for in the basle chronicle of urtisus, under the year , mention is made of the fact, that on the th and th of july, the sun and moon became _blood red_; and on the th of august, this striking phenomenon was again repeated. and, according to the frankfort chronicle of lersner, under the year , on the th of july, a _remarkable redness of the sun_ occurred. it has been said that the _darkness_ of the sun, that occurred in , was a sign given to portend the speedy destruction of the world. why was it not then witnessed simultaneously in all parts of the earth? it was confined principally to new england and witnessed only by the generation preceding the present. to be sure, thousands were appalled by the event, and a feeling that the judgment day had actually come rested upon many minds. but yet they were in a mistake. this darkness commenced on the th of may, between the hours of and a.m., and continued until the middle of the next night. persons were unable to read common print, determine the time of day by their clocks or watches, dine, or manage their business, without additional light. candles were lighted in their houses. the birds sang their evening songs, disappeared, and became silent. the fowls retired to roost. the cocks were crowing all around, as at break of day. objects could be distinguished but at a very little distance, and every thing bore the appearance and gloom of night. the legislature of connecticut was in session at this time, in hartford city. a very general opinion prevailed that the judgment day was at hand. the house of representatives, being unable to transact business, adjourned. a proposal to adjourn the council was under consideration. when the opinion of colonel davenport was asked, he answered, "i am against an adjournment. the day of judgment is either approaching, or it is not. if it is not, there is no cause for an adjournment; if it is, i choose to be found doing my duty. i wish, therefore, that candles may be brought." a similar darkness has sometimes gathered over the city of london, in consequence of a vast accumulation of smoke, so as to make it necessary for passengers in the streets to use lighted torches at midday. in , a great part of europe was for weeks overspread with a haziness of atmosphere which caused great consternation. the churches were crowded with supplicants. the astronomer lalande attempted to allay the fright by endeavoring to account for the appearance, which he ascribed to an uncommon exhalation of watery particles from the great rain of the preceding year. but at last it was ascertained to be owing to smoke, occasioned by the great eruption of the volcano hecla, which covered more than three thousand square miles with burning lava, in some places to the depth of forty feet. dr. franklin was in europe at the time, and afterwards gave an account of the circumstances relating to this uncommon eruption. in fact, immense issues of smoke, from fires and volcanoes, have, from time immemorial, produced similar effects in different countries. we will subjoin a few remarkable appearances that have taken place in the heavens, that the reader may at once perceive that in scarcely any age of the world have its inhabitants been destitute of some _sign_, that might, to the timid and uninformed, be considered as the prognostication of some awful catastrophe about to happen. in , on the th of november, _large and terrific beams of fiery light_ were seen during the night. and similar appearances are noted in vogel's chronicles, as having occurred in november, , and . in the old breslau collections, there is mention made of a large _moonlike meteor_, which passed off with an explosion, on the th of november, ; and of a great _fire-flash_, or _flame-emitting comet_, on the th day. according to vogel's chronicles, there appeared on the th november, , _a large cross_, and other signs in the skies. on the th of august, , there was seen, in the forenoon, _a very remarkable red meteor_, emitting frequent _flashes of light_. in , _numerous meteors_ were seen at fryeburg; and at utchland, in august, . on the th of august, , _a large fire-ball_ was seen in lusace, silesia, poland, and hungary. in the frankfort chronicle of july , , it is mentioned that _the heavens were full of fiery flames!_ as also again on the th of august. on february , , _a large fire-ball_ was seen in several places. on the d, , _an immense red cross_ was seen at novogorod and kiew; and on the th, , _a huge fire-ball_! what would the millerites think, if they should now see "an immense red cross in the heavens," "a remarkable red meteor, emitting flashes of light during the night," or "a blood-red appearance of the sun and moon," and "showers of falling stars in extraordinary numbers"? these things are as likely to happen at the present day as they were a hundred years ago, and still the world remains as it has remained. just before the last return of halley's comet, an article was published in a religious paper in this state, going to show that the world would probably be struck and set on fire by a comet, and that, most likely, halley's would be the one to do it, as it was coming much nearer the earth than it had ever been before. the editor seemed to be ignorant that the quantity of matter that enters into the constitution of a comet is exceedingly small, and that the comet of , which was quite large and bright, passed through the midst of jupiter's satellites without deranging their motions in the least perceptible degree. comets, it is believed, consist of exceedingly rare vapor; indeed, so much so, that some philosophers say that our thinnest clouds are dense in comparison. and yet this exceedingly thin vapor was to dash the world to atoms, or set it on fire, it was not fully determined which. whether comets, or any unusual appearances in the sky, are to be considered as _signs_ prognosticating the final dissolution of all things, as being near at hand, is for each to determine for himself. and in forming a judgment upon the subject, we may surely be permitted to exercise the common sense which god has given us. to lay this aside, and judge only by _feeling_ or _fancy_, is to criminally reject a light which we are _sure_ is from god, and follow one which _may_ prove an _ignis fatuus_, and land us in the quagmire of infidelity. if the scripture signs are to receive a _literal_ fulfilment, we may reasonably expect that they will conform to the four following tests:-- . they will appear _near_ the event of which they are intended as the harbinger; probably within the generation of those who will be living at the end of the world. . they will be witnessed in all parts of the earth, because all are alike interested. . they may _all_ be expected to appear, and not a single class of phenomena without the other. . they will be such as will impress intelligent minds with their strangeness and peculiarity. the aurora borealis conforms not to any of these tests. it has been seen for centuries, and is confined to the northern portions of the globe; having rarely, if ever, been seen so far north as the thirtieth degree of north latitude. and, as we have before remarked, the darkness of was confined principally to new england. and from a careful examination of all the accounts we have been able to collect of meteoric showers of the last and present century, the whole of them together have occupied a space on the globe less than one eighth of its surface. the shower of was probably the most extensive. its centre was near the middle of the atlantic; its edges touched the northern parts of south america, the coast of labrador and greenland, and the western shores of europe and africa. that of may be represented on a six-inch globe by the space occupied by a dollar. such magnificent scenes are calculated to impress the mind with awe; yet it is surprising that many intelligent persons should suppose them to be the precursors of the final conflagration. if the simple but reasonable tests we have given be correct, they are disarmed of their character as ominous of the destruction of the world. with regard to any changes in the order or succession of the heavenly bodies, it is only necessary to observe, that hundreds of scientific men, in europe and america, have for many years been employed in exploring the material heavens with the most powerful telescopes. many are employed, by the governments of europe, in astronomical observations, scattered over the earth, for the express purpose of making new discoveries, if possible, and of furthering the interests of science. no phenomenon escapes their notice; and should any thing extraordinary occur, it would appear before the public, vouched by names that would command universal credence. it may be unnecessary to add, that no such changes in the planets and fixed stars, as have been proclaimed to the world by some of the second advent preachers, have been observed by learned astronomers and men of science. chapter xv. intercourse with departed spirits. in no age, says a popular writer, has the world been destitute of those who professed, by some instrumentality or other, to hold intercourse with departed spirits. neither has any age been without its reputed spectres, ghosts, or apparitions. the high priest of the buddhist and hindoo temples, in former times, when arrayed in the consecrated garments for the festivals, wore a round knob, about the size of a large pendent drop of a chandelier, suspended from his neck by a chain of great value and of dazzling brilliancy. it was through the agency of this crystal that he was supposed to hold communion with the spirit or spirits to whom he and his followers accorded devotion and made intercessions; and the glass, acting as did the famed oracle of delphi, gave orders and commands, and settled all great questions that might be submitted to its spiritual master. the priest, although he might be a pattern of purity, and the quintessence of all that was good, having, however, the sin of being in years, and not able, perhaps, to hide from the spirit inhabiting the crystal all the transactions of his youth, could not hold a direct communication with it. to arrange this, a certain number of boys, and sometimes, in some of the temples, young damsels, were retained, who, having never mixed with the world, could not be supposed to be in any way contaminated by its vices. these alone were said to be capable of beholding the spirit when he chose to make his appearance in the divining glass, and interpreting to and fro the questions put and answers received. although it was not every boy or _seer_ to whom was permitted the gift of spiritual vision, yet in latter times, when divining crystals multiplied, little ragged boys would run after the passers in the streets, and offer to _see_ any thing that might be required of them, for a trifling gift, even a cake or sweetmeat. in egypt, the divining glass is superseded by putting a blot of thick black fluid into the palm of a boy's hand, and commanding him to see various people and things; of which practice lane, in his modern egyptians, gives some curious disclosures. divining mirrors were not confined to the east. dr. dee was the first english impostor who vaunted the possession of one of these priceless treasures. he had for the _seer_ one keily, an irishman; and to this, doubtless, was attributable the impression that prevailed among the astrologers and amateur spirit hunters, that when the spirits condescended to speak, they always gave speech with a very strong spice of the brogue. this "beryl," as it is called, was preserved among the strawberry hill curiosities, and fell under the hammer of george robbins at the memorable sale. it proved to be a globe of _cannel coal_. in aubrey's miscellany there is an engraving of another larger crystal, and there are with it many wonderful stories. yet, notwithstanding the magic capabilities of these mirrors, they went out of fashion until the beginning of the year . this revival and its consequences are like a page out of a silly romance. the story, if told by a disinterested historian, would require authentication as belonging to . we therefore turn, by way of voucher, to a publication called zadkiel's almanac for . at page , after referring to the existence of magic crystals at the present day, the writer, says, "one of large size was a few years ago brought over to england by a friend of lady blessington, after the sale of whose effects, it recently fell into the hands of a friend of mine; and, having tested its powers, i have resolved on giving my readers an account of this wonderful mode of communicating with the spirits of the dead. the crystal is spherical, and has been turned from a large mass of pure rock crystal. i have been shown some few others, but, with the exception of one shown me by lord s., they are all much smaller. these smaller ones are said to be consecrated to angels of the planets, and are, therefore, far less powerful than lady blessington's crystal, which, being consecrated to the archangel of the sun, michael, may be consulted during four hours each day, whereas the others can generally be used only for a very brief space of time; nor can very potent spirits be called into them, or made to render themselves visible. in this larger crystal is given most important information of the actual existence of the soul after death, and of the state in which it exists and will exist until the judgment." "the first intimation we received," says dickens, in his household words, "of the revival of this notable practice of divination, was about six months ago, when we were casually informed that the son of a distinguished officer of the royal navy was, at that time, frequently engaged in developing, before a few privileged friends, the extraordinary faculty of being able to hold intercourse with the world of spirits. it was added that the revelations made through the medium of this youth were of so wonderful a nature, and carried such conviction to the minds of those who listened, that they were declared to be the result of more than human power." the conjurer was asked, on one occasion, to describe lord nelson. and, accordingly, the spirit, with an accuracy that was quite astonishing, considering that no portrait, bust, or statue of nelson is known to exist, gave a full, true, and particular account of england's hero, describing him as a very thin man, in a cocked hat, with only one eye, one arm, &c.; and the truth of the description was declared to be something truly marvellous. a demand was made that the spirit of a deceased brother of one of the querists should be summoned to appear. presently he said, "i see him; he has curly hair, and stoops a good deal. i can't exactly see his features, but i think he squints." this account of her late brother's personal appearance, though not very flattering, satisfied the lady as far as it went; but being, like macbeth,-- "... bent to know, by the worst means, the worst," she required further proof of his identity. there was a pause for a minute or two, and then the spirit seer spoke again--"he has got a scroll in his hand, which he unfolds; there is this inscription on it, in _letters of fire_:-- 'i am tom!'" this sublime revelation was received with a degree of solemn awe, and with suppressed throes of well-bred laughter. other cases not a whit less marvellous have been described by the narrators, who could not be reasoned out of their absurdity, insisting that there could be no deception in the matter, on account of the means employed, and the evident sincerity of the _employés_! these means, they said, required that the person who looked into the crystal should be perfectly _pure_; that is to say, a child free from sin, and by no means given to lying, and that the form of adjuration used was, "_in nomine domini_," &c.; latin being, as is well known, the language which spirits of all denominations are most accustomed to. when interrogated after this fashion, the spirit, if evil, fled away howling; if good, it came, when called, unless particularly engaged _in the sun_; for it appears that it is to that planet almost all spirits go when their term of purgatory is over. it seems that the spirits would sometimes get out of breath, travelling so far, and talking so much; and they then had recourse to the expedient of _letters of fire_, which seemed to be _written_ in various ways in the crystal; sometimes on flags, which the spirits hold up, but sometimes they are in _print_. in these letters of fire, the querist was counselled something like the following: "be merry. quarrel not. keep your temper, and your children too. you are a good man, but try to be better. i am wanted. let me go." we subjoin the following as specimens of conversations heard by large parties of amazed, titled, and believing listeners: "are you pharaoh, that was king of egypt?" "yes." "where do you dwell now?" "in jupiter." "how long have you been there?" "about thirty years." "where did you dwell till then?" "in the atmosphere, and was undergoing punishment till then." "were you king of egypt when moses was there?" "yes, _and aaron too_." "did you build the pyramids?" "_some._" "were any built before your time?" "yes." "do you know how long the first was built before christ?" "about three hundred years after adam; it was built then." "do you mean that it was built before the flood?" "no, it was not finished; the flood destroyed them." "what was the principal object of them?" "to hold the kings of egypt." "were there kings of egypt so soon after the creation?" "yes; that was the first country kings were in." "were you drowned in the red sea?" "_yes._" at one time swedenborg volunteered to give information about sir john franklin, when the following dialogue took place: "what is the best way to communicate with him?" "by the natives; they speak to him sometimes." "will he be home next summer?" "no." "why?" "because he cannot help himself; he is stopped by ice; but his heart does not fail him; he wants to explore." "how will he do for provisions?" "he will find _bears_, _dogs_, and _wolves_." "will he find the passage?" "no; there is a continent there." "but there is also a passage." "there is one, but he will not find it." "what latitude does he lie in chiefly?" "i do not know: _good by_." it appears strange that swedenborg, who knew so much, did not know this. but we learn in another place that "spirits do not _well_ understand about latitude and longitude." socrates's appearance is described as follows: "a tall, middle-aged man, rather bald, dressed with striped coarse trousers, very loose at the top, and tight at the bottom; a kind of frock, open in the front, and without sleeves. he is generally employed in singing praises, but was not quite happy." alexander the great appeared on horseback, in armor, the horse also in armor; deeply regrets killing clitus, and all the murders he perpetrated; amuses himself in fighting his battles over again. to give these things a sort of _éclat_ and popularity with the public, zadkiel sums up the whole in the following language: "in concluding this account, i may remark that _numerous children_ have seen these visions, some of them the sons and daughters of persons of high rank; and that _several adults_ have also seen visions, one of them a lady of title, and another a member of one of the highest families in england. it will be seen that delicacy prevents my naming individuals; but i can assure my readers that _above one hundred of the nobility_, and several hundreds of other highly respectable ladies and gentlemen, have examined this wonderful phenomenon, and have expressed the highest gratification and astonishment." dickens declares it to be "the fashion, especially among people of fashion, to point with pity to a tale of modern witchcraft, to an advertisement of a child's caul, or to the _bona fide_ certificates of cases from the takers of quack medicines, and to deplore the ignorance of their inferiors. delusions, however, of the grossest kind are not confined to the illiterate. a cloud of dupes have ever floated about in the higher regions of society; while it is quite a mistake to suppose that the refinements and discoveries of the nineteenth century have dispersed them. the reign of queen victoria, like that of elizabeth and anne, has its dr. dees, and lillys, and partridges, who are as successful as their precursors in gaining proselytes who can pay handsomely. damsels of high degree, fresh from boarding school, with heads more full of sympathy for the heroes and heroines of fashionable novels, and ideas more fixed upon love affairs than on any legitimate studies, can easily find out, through mysteriously-worded advertisements in the sunday papers, or through the ready agency of friends who have already become victims of the 'science' of astrology and magic, the whereabouts of these awful and wonderful beings. there are a number of styles and classes of them, all varying in appearance and mode of operations. there are the old women, who, consoled by the glories of their art, repine not at inhabiting comfortless garrets in the purlieus of the new cut, lambeth; and hiding their vocation under the mask of having stay laces or infallible corn plasters to sell, receive more visitors from the fashionable cream of belgravia than from the dross of bermondsey. disguises are sometimes resorted to, and parties of titled ladies have been known to meet, and put on the habiliments of 'charwomen,' and to pass themselves off as dress-makers. there is an old man, with unshaven beard and seldom-washed face, who lives in more comfortable circumstances, with his son, in southwark, (the favored district of the conjurers,) who, to keep up appearances, has 'engineer' hugely engraved on a great brass plate over the door, who casts nativities, and foretells events of the future, for three or five shillings, as the appearance of the visitor will warrant him in demanding; receives all his votaries sitting at a terribly littered table of dirty paper, with a well-smoked clay pipe beside him. passing to a higher grade, the 'agent,' or arranger of matters, legal, pecuniary, or domestic, only practises the black art for the love he bears it, and to oblige his friends, but never refuses a few shillings' fee, out of respect to the interests of the science. nearly all his customers are people of title." we now come to speak of events in our own country which seem to be somewhat akin to those which have so recently transpired in england. we allude to what are familiarly termed "rappers," or "knocking spirits," from the _noises_ which they are said to make. from a history of these _knockings_, as given in a pamphlet by capron and barron, of auburn, new york, we learn that they were first heard in the family of mr. michael weekman, in the town of arcadia, wayne county. he resided in the house where the noises were heard about eighteen months, and left it some time in the year . he relates that one evening, about bedtime, he heard a rapping on the outside door, when he stepped to the door and opened it, but, to his surprise, found no one there. he went back, and proceeded to undress, when, just before getting into bed, he heard another rap at the door loud and distinct. he stepped to the door quickly and opened it, but, as before, found no one there. he stepped out, and looked around, supposing that some one was imposing upon him. he could discover no one, and went back into the house. after a short time he heard the rapping again; he stepped (it being often repeated) and held on the latch, so that he might ascertain if any one had taken that means to annoy him. the rapping was repeated; the door was instantly opened, but no one was to be seen. he could feel the jar of the door very plainly when the rapping was heard. as he opened the door, he sprung out, and went around the house, but no one was in sight. his family were fearful to have him go out, lest some one intended to harm him. it always remained a mystery to him; and finally, as the rapping did not at that time continue, it passed from his mind, till some time afterwards, when, one night, their little girl, then about eight years of age, was heard to scream from fright, so that the family were all alarmed by her cries, and went to her assistance. this was about midnight. she told them that something like a hand had passed over her face and head; that she had felt it on the bed and all over her, but did not feel alarmed until it touched her face. it seems that mr. weekman soon after moved away from the house, and nothing more was heard of the rapping, or other manifestations, till it was occupied by the family of mr. john d. fox, who have since become so conspicuous with "the advent of spirits." in march, , they, for the first time, heard the "mysterious sounds," which seemed to be like a slight knocking in one of the bed rooms on the floor. it was in the evening, just after they had retired. at that time the whole family occupied one room, and all distinctly heard the rapping. they arose, and searched with a light, but were unable to find the cause of the knocking. it continued that night until they all fell asleep, which was not until nearly or quite midnight. from this time the noise continued to be heard every night. after having been disturbed and broken of their rest for several nights in a vain attempt to discover from whence the sounds proceeded, they resolved, on the evening of the st of march, that this night they would not be disturbed by it, whatever it might be. but mr. fox had not yet retired when the usual signs commenced. the girls, who occupied another bed in the same room, heard the sounds, and endeavored to imitate them by snapping their fingers. the attempt was made by the youngest girl, then about twelve years old. when she made the noise with her fingers, the sounds were repeated just as she made them. when she stopped snapping her fingers, the sounds stopped for a short time. one of the other girls then said, in _sport_, (for they were getting to be more amused than alarmed,) "now do what i do; count one, two, three, four, five, six," &c., at the same time striking one hand in the other. the same number of blows or sounds were repeated as in the former case. mrs. fox then spoke, and said, "count ten," and there were ten distinct strokes or sounds. she then said, "will you tell the age of cathy?" (one of her children;) and it was given by the same number of raps that she was years of age. in like manner the age of her different children was told correctly by this _unseen visitor_. mrs. fox then asked, if it was a _human_ being that made the noise, to manifest it by making the same noise. there was no answer to this request. she then asked if it was a _spirit_, and if so to manifest it by making two distinct sounds. instantly she heard two raps, as she desired. she then proceeded to know or inquire if it was an injured spirit, and if so to answer in the same way, and the rapping was repeated. in this way it answered her until she ascertained that it purported to be the spirit of a man who was murdered in that house by a person that had occupied it some years before; that he was a _pedler_, and that he was murdered for his money. to the question _how old he was_, there were _thirty-one_ distinct raps. by the same means it was ascertained that he was a married man, and had left a wife and five children; that his wife had been dead two years. we might relate a little different manoeuvre in the case of the _ghost_ that appeared in waltham, massachusetts, a few years since. a superstitious old man, by the name of mcclarren, a mechanic, purchased a lot of turf that had been piled up in a meadow about half way between his workshop and place of residence. upon returning to his work from supper, he used to take a basket with him, and fill it at the turf heap on his return late in the evening. it was on one of these occasions that the reputed ghost first appeared to him, and caused him some alarm, when he dare not linger to reconnoitre this strange and unexpected visitor. he resolved, however, to muster courage the next evening to accost the figure, should it again appear to him. accordingly, he went with a large bible open in his hands; and as the ghost appeared, he followed it till it crossed a ditch, when he was requested by the same to proceed no farther. thus they stood, facing each other, on either side of the ditch, when the following conversation took place between them:-- _ques._ by mcclarren. "i demand of you, in the name of jesus christ, our once crucified god, whether you are mortal or immortal?" _ans._ "i am not mortal." _ques._ "what, then, are you?" _ans._ "i am the spirit of a murdered man." _ques._ "by whom were you murdered?" _ans._ "by ----, of waltham." _ques._ "where does your body lie?" _ans._ "in yonder pond, behind me." it is supposed that this affair was got up in an innocent mood, merely to test the strength of mcclarren's faith in ghosts. but it caused a wide-spread excitement; and some, who were thought to be concerned in its projection, were prosecuted and brought before a justice for examination, although nothing was proved. mcclarren testified under oath, that he believed it to be a real ghost; "_its tones_," he said, "were so _unearthly_," "and when it moved its motion was not like that in walking, but it glided along like a swan, or a boat in the water." he was neither to be reasoned nor laughed out of it. he would believe it to the day of his death. you might as well tell him he was not a living being, as to tell him he had not seen a living ghost. the advocates of the "influx from the world of spirits into our own" claim in its behalf many astonishing miracles. chairs, tables, and beds are moved up or down, to and fro, &c. at auburn, new york, on one occasion, sounds on the wall, bureau, table, floor, and other places were heard as loud as the striking with a hammer. the table was moved about the room, and turned over and back. two men in the company undertook to hold a chair down, while, at their request, a spirit moved it; and, notwithstanding they exerted all their strength, the chair could not be held still by them--a proof that spirits are far more strong and powerful than men. on another occasion, the sounds proper to a carpenter's shop were heard, apparently proceeding from the wall and table. sawing, planing, and pounding with a mallet were imitated, it is said, _to the life_. some gentlemen were at the house of the fox family at one time, and were conducted into a _dark room_. they called for the sounds to be made like a band of martial music. as they requested, the sounds were produced; the playing of the instruments and the heavy beating of the bass drum were perfectly imitated, together with the sound of the roar of distant cannon. shall we not gather from this, that in the spirit world they have their bands of music and companies of artillery, the same as in this world? we are also told of the spirit or spirits playing on a guitar in a _dark_ room, the guitar being taken from the hands of those who held it and put in tune, and played while it passed around the room above their heads. on one occasion, as it is said, it played an accompaniment, for nearly two hours, to some persons engaged in singing, being very exact both in time and tune. on one occasion, while several ladies were present, some of them requested that the spirits would take their hair down. accordingly it was done. one of them had her hair taken down and done up in a twist, and one of them had hers braided in four strands. sometimes persons have felt a hand passing over or touching their arms, head, or face, leaving a feeling of electricity upon the part touched; and the hand that thus touches them will, by request, instantly change from a natural warmth to the coldness of ice. in answer to the question, "why do these spirits require a dark room to play upon instruments of music, or to take hold of persons," they answer by saying that "they assume a tangible form in order to do these things, and we are not yet prepared for such a visitation." to the inquiry how it is they make the rapping noises that generally accompany their visits to this world, they answer, that "they are made by the will of the spirits causing a concussion of the atmosphere, and making the sounds appear in whatever place they please." a mrs. draper, of rochester, new york, had an interview with dr. franklin, at one time, while she was in a magnetized state. she said he appeared to be busily employed in establishing a line of communication between the two worlds by means of these "rappings." on another occasion, while in a clairvoyant state, at her own house, sounds were heard in exact imitation of those heard in the telegraph office. these sounds were so unusual, that miss margaretta fox, who was present, became alarmed, and said, "what does all this mean?" mrs. draper replied, "_he is trying the batteries_." soon there was a signal for the alphabet, and the following communication was spelled out to the company present. "now i am ready, my friends. there will be great changes in the nineteenth century. things that now look dark and mysterious to you, will be laid plain before your sight. mysteries are going to be revealed. the world will be enlightened. i sign my name, benjamin franklin." it seems that, in the early history of these rappings, they used to be without any limitations as to whether persons were in a magnetized state or not. the first we learn of magnetism being employed as a _medium_ of communication is in the case of a daughter of lyman granger, in rochester, new york. for a long time, answers could be obtained by any _two_ (why _two_?) of the family standing near each other. and in the freedom of the answers, no preference seemed to be manifested towards any particular members of the family. at length, one of his daughters was placed under the influence of magnetism, and became clairvoyant. from that time none of the family could get communications unless the daughter who was magnetized was present. why the communications should leave all the family except the magnetized daughter, after they once had free conversation without her, remains to be explained. the whole business now seems to be pretty much, if not wholly, monopolized by the clairvoyants. they seem to be employed as agents, or mediums of correspondence, between the two worlds, acting as interpreters between two classes of beings, or beings existing in two different states, _natural_ and _spiritual_. they act as a kind of _spiritual postmasters_ between the two countries. we find _spiritual letter paper_, and _envelopes_ to enclose the same, advertised for those who wish to avail themselves of an opportunity to write to their deceased friends in the other spheres. letters said to have been written in the spirit world have been transmitted through the established mediums to friends in this world, and have been published in some of the papers devoted to these subjects. in the new york daily tribune of february , , we find the prospectus of a quarto journal, to be published in auburn, "to be dictated by spirits out of the flesh, and by them edited, superintended, and controlled. its object is the disclosure of truth from heaven, guiding mankind into open vision of paradise, and open communication with redeemed spirits. the circle of apostles and prophets are its conductors from the interior, holding control over its columns, and permitting no article to find place therein unless originated, dictated, or admitted by them: they acting under direction of the lord supreme." we hope the information coming through its columns will be more reliable than the communications from some of the "rapping spirits." no dependence whatever can be placed upon them. they are so blundering, awkward, and uncertain, and even trickish and deceitful, that they spoil all our notions of the dignify and purity--the _spirituality_, in fact--of the spiritual world. the advocates of the manifestations attribute the fault to _ignorant spirits_, who do not know whether the matter they attempt to speak of be true or not. swedenborg says, "there are some spirits so ignorant that they do not know but they are the ones called for, when another is meant. and the only way to detect them, in speaking, is by the difference of sound--that made by intelligent spirits being clear and lively, and that of the ignorant being low and muffled, like the striking of the hand upon a carpet." it is contended by the authors of the pamphlet from which we quote, that these ignorant spirits will ultimately _progress_ to a state of _intelligence_. but this idea of _progression_ seems to be at variance with the observations of a writer in the boston post, who was astonished at the wonderful precocity of little infants in the spirit world. "i have known," says he, "the spirit of a child, only eighteen months old when he died, and only three months in the second sphere, show as much _intelligence_, and as perfect a command of our language, as dr. channing himself seems to possess." on the other hand, when i find that "the spirit of dr. channing cannot express an idea above the rudimental conception of a mere child, i am forced to the conclusion that his mental endowments must have greatly deteriorated since he left us." it is said that the theological teachings of these spirits generally agree with those of davis, swedenborg, and others who have claimed to receive their impressions from spirits. accordingly, we find them using the term _higher and lower spheres_, instead of _heaven and hell_. swedenborg prophesied that the year would be the one to decide the fate of his church or his doctrines; and capron and barron tell us that "the probabilities now seem to be that his general spiritual theory will, not far from that time, be very generally received." we presume that the "mysterious rappings" are considered by them as so many omens of such an event. and we may reasonably conclude that they are as _decisive_ tests, as _sure_ prognostications, as were the various celestial signs of the coming of the end of the world in . the believers in the "harmonial philosophy" have their miracles in attestation of their theory; and so of the millerites. on saturday evening, january , , we are told by la roy sunderland, that mrs. cooper (clairvoyant medium) was taken to cambridge, by mr. fernald and a friend, for the purpose of visiting a gentleman who had been confined by a spinal difficulty some ten years or more. the spirits gave beautiful responses for his consolation, and in the sight of all present, _the sick man and his bed_ were moved by spiritual hands alone. the sick man and the "bed whereon he lay" were both moved by attending angels, without any human power. and more recently, a mr. gordon, it is said, has been taken up and his body moved some distance entirely by spiritual hands. were such miracles ever wrought in favor of millerism? most assuredly, if we are to believe the millerites themselves; and even more in favor of witchcraft also. at a meeting of the friends of millerism, held in waltham, in , a lady was taken from her seat by some unseen power, and carried up to the ceiling of the room; and she afterwards declared that it was done without any effort on her part. more recently, ( ,) another lady of the same place testifies that she has, in a similar manner, been taken from her seat in church and carried up above the tops of the pews. and at times, at the advent meetings, strange noises have been heard, houses also have been shaken, mirrors shattered to pieces, and furniture broken, and all have been considered by the adventists as so many auguries or signs of the approaching dissolution of all things, to take place in . we have already made mention of the fact, in another place, that bewitched persons used to be carried through the air, on brooms and spits, to distant meetings, or sabbaths, of witches. but we will now give a case to the point. on the th of september, , mary osgood, wife of captain osgood, of andover, was taken before john hawthorne, and other of their majesties' justices, when she confessed that, about two years before, she was carried through the air, in company with deacon fry's wife, ebenezer baker's wife, and goody tyler, to five mile pond, where she was baptized by the devil, and that she was transported back again through the air, in company with the forenamed persons, in the same manner as she went, and _believes_ they were carried on a _pole_! she was asked by one of the justices, how many persons were upon the pole; to which she answered, as i said before, viz., four persons, and no more, but whom she had named above. are not these cases to be relied upon as much as those related by mr. sunderland? could not _four_ respectable ladies tell whether they were _actually_ carried through the air on a pole or _not_? _could_ they be deceived? possibly, in the days of chloroform, or ether, it might have been the case; but not at the period in which it actually occurred. some of the bewitched persons, as in the case of elizabeth knap, of groton, alarmed the people by their _ventriloqual_ powers, in imitating sounds and languages. and it would be nothing strange if some of our modern witches were in possession of the same talent. no wonder that the editor of one of the boston papers should have ventured the opinion, that if some of these persons had lived two hundred years ago, they would have been hanged for witchcraft. it appears to us, that if we believe in all that is alleged of the rapping spirits, and their manifestations, we must be prepared to indorse all that has been published of witches and ghosts, spooks and hobgoblins, in every age of the world, which, at present, we are not at all inclined to do. we do not believe that any of the noises heard, or any of the information given, has proceeded from beings out of the normal state. we are rather inclined to adhere to the sentiment contained in the old couplet:-- "where men _believe_ in witches, witches are; but where they don't believe, there are none there." we once went to stay over night in a house said to be haunted, the house being empty at the time, the family who had occupied it having actually been frightened away by the noises they had heard. but, strange to tell, we did not hear any _noises_, neither did we expect to. there was a house in green street, boston, formerly occupied by the celebrated dr. conway, which, after his decease, was said to be haunted. a young man of our acquaintance never passed that house late at night but every window in it appeared to be illuminated. and finally, he became so alarmed about it, that as soon as he approached the vicinity of the house, he would commence running, and continue to run till it was out of sight. we have frequently known him to cross the ice on charles river to avoid passing the house. and still, we often passed the same house, at late hours of the night, without seeing any thing unusual. and we know of no reason why, unless it was because we did not believe in such things, which our friend actually did. _faith_ alone made the difference. one of the believers in the "spirit rappings" tells us that "_if_ these things are emanations from the spirit world, we are bound to believe them." true, _if_ they are; but this little conjunctive _if_ is a word of very _doubtful_ meaning. we have already shown how mr. miller kept the whole world standing thirty years on this same little _if_; and then it did not end in , as he supposed it would. we must, therefore, be cautious how we depend upon a simple _if_. but we are told that, as honest persons, we are bound to believe what we cannot disprove by actual demonstration. but let us examine this for a moment. the greenlanders have an idea that thunder is caused by two old women flapping seal skins in the moon. now, who has ever been up in the moon to ascertain whether it is so or not? again, they say that the aurora borealis is owing to the spirits of their fathers frisking at football. who can say it is not so? and yet _we_ reject such belief on account of its apparent absurdity. some of the ancients have told us that the earth stands upon the back of a tortoise, or upon that of an elephant; and yet, without investigation, a majority of mankind reject the idea as being perfectly ridiculous. we might here remark, that no less a scholar than the great mathematician kepler attempted to prove that the earth is a vast animal, and that the tides are occasioned by the heavings of its prodigious lungs. many of the performances of jugglers and ventriloquists puzzle us, and yet we do not believe there is any thing supernatural in them. signor blitz once called upon the ladies in the hall where he was giving an exhibition to pass him a handkerchief with their name stamped upon it, and he would put it into a pistol and fire it off in their presence, and it should be found in the steeple of a church some quarter of a mile distant, and yet not a window or a door should be open on the occasion. a committee of honest and respectable men were despatched from the hall to the house of the church sexton, the keys procured, with a lantern, when the belfry was ascended, the handkerchief found hanging on the tongue of the bell, and returned to the lady, who instantly recognized it as the identical handkerchief she passed into the hands of the performer. now, who could prove that the thing alleged was not _actually_ done? and yet who will _believe_ that it was? we have heard distant sounds of music, and other imitations of men, birds, and animals, that deceived our sense of hearing, knowing that they were produced by the power of ventriloquism. we have seen things moved from place to place by _magnetic attraction_, and we do not think it at all strange that so light an instrument as a guitar could be thus attracted to different parts of a room by an _unseen power_, especially in a _dark_ room, and its tones be imitated by a being as yet in the _normal_ state. a guitar will give vibrations of its tones to the concussions of the air, caused by the conversation of persons present; and a stranger to the fact might possibly interpret these vibrations as something quite mysterious, and suppose the instrument, as it stood alone, to be touched by some spirit hand. when people's minds, or their imaginations, get wrought up to a certain pitch, the most trifling things are looked upon as wonderful phenomena. every thing is _new_, and _strange_, and _appalling_. we hear of the doings of the spirits at rochester, and other places, and which are called the "ushering in of a _new science_." "we know of what we speak," says the pamphlet before us, "we _know_ they are _facts, strange, new_, and to many _wonderful_!" (see page .) and yet the authors introduce several pages from a work by dr. adam clarke to show that, as early as , the wesley family were troubled by noises made by the "knocking spirits," and that "the present manifestations have no claim to the credit of originality." the cracking of hazel nuts upon martin luther's bed posts, and the racket and rumbling upon his chamber stairs, as if many empty barrels and hogs-heads had been tumbling down, claim still greater antiquity, and belong to the same category or chapter of wonderful events. it is said to be impossible that any mere human being could inform persons, with whom they never had any previous knowledge or acquaintance, of the past, present, and future events of their lives--whether they are married or single, the number of their children living and dead, age, health, business, letters expected, the whereabout of long-absent friends, &c. it is supposed that such information must indeed emanate from the spirit world. yet precisely such things are and always have been told, more or less, by astrologers and fortune tellers, without any pretensions to being in league with spirits of the other worlds. we have said that fortune tellers do not always tell correctly; but, as poor an opinion as we have of them, we will venture to assert that they are full as correct, if not more so, in the information they give, as the members of the fox family, or any of their contemporaries, of the alleged _spiritual_ manifestations. persons of sane mind, though ever so ignorant of arithmetic or orthography, can tell at least how many children they have, and are usually able to spell their own names; but one who has spent a good deal of time in witnessing the performances of the _spirit rappers_, says, "they seem to be unwilling or unable to answer purely test questions, like that of answering their own names. i have never known them to do this," says he, "though often solicited." he also speaks of their great deficiency in mathematics, not being able to enumerate the number of children they have on earth with any thing like accuracy. "i am aware that such questions have sometimes been correctly answered, and i have heard them so answered; but i have much more frequently known them to refuse entirely, or to do it very awkwardly, or to fail entirely in the attempt. out of five numbers four were erroneously selected as the right one. the fifth was right, of course. this goes to show, at least, that spirits have greatly _deteriorated_, rather than _improved_, while inhabiting the celestial spheres." but this is not all. the facility of communication between the two classes of beings is also on the decline. the time was when ghosts or spirits held free conversation with those they visited, without calling in the aid of clairvoyancy or electricity. neither did they resort, like modern spirits, to the slow and clumsy mode of communication, through the letters of the alphabet. in spelling out a sentence by letters, one of the ladies commences repeating the alphabet; and when the desired letter is mentioned, a rap is heard. in this slow and tedious process, long sentences are communicated. no wonder that the slowness of the mode of communication should be considered as "perfectly appalling." and then, too, the substance of these communications is too absurd and ridiculous to be believed. we might here refer to the information given by the prophet swedenborg himself, in relation to the condition of the pious melancthon in the future state, that he was sometimes in an excavated stone chamber, and at other times in hell; and when in the chamber, he was covered with bear skins to protect him from the cold; and that he refuses to see visitors from this world on account of the filthiness of his apartment. this is about as probable and interesting as the account given by a female clairvoyant in cleveland, ohio, who says that she has (just) had an interview with tom paine, "who recants his errors, and is at present stopping with general washington and ethan allen, at a hotel kept by john bunyan." we here introduce the following from one of the boston papers:-- "_the 'spiritual rappings' exploded._--there is a good article under this head, on the first page, to which we invite attention. the writer is an accomplished scholar, an able physician, and one of the first and best magnetizers in this country. he has investigated the 'rappings'--tested them theoretically and practically, and 'exploded' them, if our readers have not already done so for themselves. his communication is entitled to weight, and if circulated, as it should be, among the credulous and unsuspecting, might save some from the pitiful effects of a mischievous, absurd, and contemptible superstitious delusion." the article is as follows:-- "about the th of december last, i called on mr. sunderland, in good faith, in order to hear and see manifestations from the spirit world. he received me in a friendly manner, and, with a young lady who was with me, seated me in the spirit room. we had to wait an hour or more, and while seated we devoutly invoked the spirits. finding them silent, i put on them some of my most powerful mesmeric electric formula. they persevered, however, in preserving profound silence. "when, however, the medium, mrs. cooper, had arrived, and seven of us, four gentlemen and three ladies, were seated round a square centre table, the responses were made, and came freely. the young lady with me, willing to believe, but wishing to know with absolute certainty, before she assented to the truth of the proposition, that the rappings were made by spirits, and not by the persons engaged in the business, had seated herself about three feet from the table, so that she could see under it. the following dialogue then ensued between mrs. cooper, her adopted sister, and the young lady:-- "'will you sit close to the table, miss?' "'if they are spirits, they can rap just as well where i am. i am willing to be convinced, and where i am i can hear perfectly well.' "'the rule is, to sit close to the table.' "'i will not disturb, but choose to sit where i am.' "'if you will not comply with the regulation, you had better go into the other room.' "'i came to know, and i shall sit where i am.' "she was inflexible, and the work proceeded. when my turn came, i could put no test question, and was so told. i saw and felt that there was collusion, and, ashamed of myself as being the dupe of supposed and known imposition, after enduring the hour's sitting, i arose with the full conviction that all was the effect of bones and muscles, and of mesmeric action and reaction on the subjects themselves. while we were examining a piano which was used on such occasions, and our backs were turned towards the table, standing partly sidewise, i caught a glimpse of mrs. cooper's foot in the very position and act of commencing a spirit somerset on the table. she looked confused. i appeared not to have fully recognized any thing wrong, thanked them for their father's kindness and their attention, and left the domicil of the 'spiritual philosopher' under a full, stern, and abiding conviction that _there_ was not the abiding place of invisible beings--that all was mechanical which we heard, and all that any one had heard or seen was mechanical or mesmeric. "the second opportunity i had of testing the truth or falsity of these spirit communications was in the city of lowell. every thing was favorable as to place, time, and company. my eyes were every where, and raps came seldom and solitary. the medium dropped from between his fingers a small black pencil, about two inches long, with which i believe he made the raps. after it fell, we heard no more. he looked despairingly disappointed, soon went into a trance, arose, locked us into the room, and when the hour had transpired, came out voluntarily. "invited by a friend who was anxious to convince me more fully, and especially to convert the young lady who was with me at mr. sunderland's, he called at my house with the medium, and was received into my office. the young lady requested that we should stand around the table, and no one touch it. we did so. on the first response, she exclaimed, indignantly, addressing the medium, 'that, sir, was from your foot; i heard it distinctly!' he looked guilty, and his eyes flashed with anger. he asked the spirits if it was not 'nonsense,' and received the response from the foot, 'yes,' and left, evidently highly incensed. "i determined to give one more trial to the spirits. in this latter case, there were the three raps, clear and strong, and the answers highly satisfactory, as far as they went. but the difficulty was, that the spirits were capricious, and would respond only to just such as they saw fit; and the medium was pretty well acquainted with me. the perfect regularity of the knocks, and the sound, convinced me that, in this instance, it was purely mechanical. i endeavored to get the secret from the medium, and the answer was, 'if i should tell you, you would be as wise as myself.' she evidently knew how it was done. "i will now state a few facts, and conclude. . wood is an excellent conductor of sounds. a small worm, called at the south a sawyer, and sought for angling, can be heard three yards, as it gnaws between the wood and bark of a fallen pine; and the slightest scratch of a pin, on the end of an isolated mast, sixty feet long, can be heard distinctly. " . in mesmeric operations, we well know that individuals _can be made to hear and see things that never occurred or existed_, and yet the subjects remain unconscious that they have been made the _subjects of mesmeric hallucination_! " . persons highly observant and susceptible can, by their eye and feeling, when they put themselves into a semi-abnormal condition, tell, in many instances nine times out of ten, who is and who is not a believer, _and what is in the mind of the inquirer_. " . mediums are invariably of this character. " . in matters of faith, friendship, love, or the spirit world, many are willing to be deceived; and when they fall into the hands of the shrewd and designing, who can appear the impersonation of truth, virtue, honesty, and even piety itself, they are emphatically _humbugged_, and give their money and their testimony to confirm the fraud. "lastly. many are so sincere and honest in their intentions, that it is not in their hearts to believe that some of our most respectable men, even clergymen, would lend their names to sustain any thing but what they had believed and tested as a reality, and therefore themselves believe. "now, mr. editor, from all that i have seen and know of these spiritual communications, as 'rappings,' and from all these facts, i am free to declare, that i believe them an arrant humbug, and one, too, of the most pernicious tendency. they can all be traced to a human agency, as either mechanical or mesmeric, alone or combined; and i will give my right hand to any medium whose operation and device i cannot fully discover, trace, and demonstrate, as deducible from either the one or both of these sources, _and from no other_." a correspondent of the boston traveller, in a communication dated new york, january , , says, "i look upon the delusion as i do upon a contagious disease. it is a moral epidemic. any man of peculiar diathesis may be its victim. it spreads by sympathy and by moral infection. men of standing and intellect gravely and seriously affirm that they have seen a man rise and float about the room like a feather, till some unbelieving wretch approaches and breaks the spell, when the aerial swimmer falls suddenly to the floor. franklin, washington, and all the signers of the declaration of independence, have visited them, and these departed worthies sanction any doctrine which the uninitiated may happen to entertain before consulting them." a. j. davis says, "there is a class of spirits who dwell in divine love more than in divine wisdom, and who are easily influenced to _feel_ precisely what the majority of those who consult them _feel_ and think, and under peculiar circumstances will say _precisely_ what the questioning minds of the circle may _ardently_ and _positively_ desire. affectionate spirits--those dwelling in the _love circles_--are readily influenced to approve the desires of the hearts of those with whom they commune on earth; as in our homes, the infant, by virtue of its cries and positive entreaties, captivates the affectionate, and perhaps intelligent, mother, who, consequently, forthwith coincides with her child's desires, submitting her judgment to its powerful appeals. thus it is, through the power of sympathy, spirits of the other world gratify all our thoughts and desires." this is the _opinion_ of mr. davis, which may pass for what it is worth. we never indorse his spiritual notions. to give an idea of the conduct exhibited at the circles, or meetings, of the "harmonials," we submit the following from the springfield republican of january, :-- "when we entered the hall, the meeting had not commenced, and all parties were engaged in a lively chat. soon there was a spontaneous coming to order, and the ladies formed a circle around a table. the gentlemen then formed a larger circle, entirely surrounding the ladies. a good hymn was given out and sung. during the singing, we noticed one lady growing excessively pale and cadaverous. then her hands began to twitch, and she commenced pounding upon the table. directly opposite her, a young woman was undergoing the process of being magnetized by the spirits, while she, as we were informed, was resisting them. her hands were drawn under the table by sudden and powerful jerks, and every muscle in her body seemed to be agitated with the most powerful commotion, as if she were acted upon in every part by shocks of electricity. this continued for ten or fifteen minutes, until she was, at last, in a state apparently resembling the magnetic sleep. "another lady, with a fine eye and an intellectual cast of countenance, was then moved to write, which she did, while her eyes stared and rolled as if in a state of frenzy, and every muscle seemed strained to its utmost tension. she wrote absolutely furiously, but no one but the spirits could read it, and it was passed over to another medium, who announced it a message of such utter unimportance that we have forgotten it. a brawny blacksmith was among the mediums, but he did nothing but pound on the table, and write the word 'sing.' the famous medium gordon was there, too, and he went through various contortions--got down upon his knees, stood upon his seat, and stretched up his arms and fingers, trembling all the while, as if in the highest state of nervous excitement. once he was twitched bodily under the table, uttering a scream as he went. at times, the different mediums would rise, spread their arms, slap the table, and throw their hands into motions almost inconceivably rapid. "one of the mediums, a young woman, arose by the dictation and powerful urging of the spirits, and delivered a rambling sermon. it abounded in quotations from the bible and the doctrines of universalism. "but it was when the singing was in progress that the spirits and the mediums were in the highest ecstasy. then the latter would pound, and throw their arms around, and point upwards, in the most fantastic manner possible. and thus, with singing, and pounding, and reading the bible, and writing, and preaching, the evening passed away; and while old hundred was being sung, the spirits gave their good night to the circle. "we can give but a faint idea of this scene. it is one we shall never forget, and we only wish that the respectable men we saw there, the men of age and experience, the young men and young women, could understand the pity with which a man without the circle of their sympathy regarded them. with the light of reason within them, with minds not untaught by education, and with the full and perfect revelation of god's will in their very hands, it was indeed most pitiable to see them swallowing these fantastic mummeries, and mingling them, in all their wild, furious, and unmeaning features, with the worship of him who manifests himself in the 'still small voice.' "of the sincerity of the majority of those present we have no doubt; but that there are rank impostors in this town, who are leading astray the credulous, we have as little doubt. the most that we saw on saturday night was mesmerism, and the rest a very transparent attempt at deception. at any rate, if it was any thing else, we should attribute it to any thing but good spirits. were we a devil, and should we wish to see how foolish we could make people appear, we should choose this way. o men and women, do have done with such outrageous nonsense." some have been most grossly deceived, and even made insane, by being made to believe that they were magnetized by spirits. this was the case with one of the celebrated hutchinson singers--judson j. hutchinson. mr. sunderland, in the fourth number of the spiritual philosopher, observes as follows: "we shall hear of communications from 'prophets,' 'apostles,' 'kings,' and 'statesmen,' and of divers 'revelations,' said to be made by them. we shall hear of human beings said to be magnetized by spirits. but the _good_ and the _true_ will know and understand how easy it is for some to become 'magnetized' by their own _ideas_, and to take for 'revelations' _the fancies of their own brains_. the notion about mortals being magnetized by spirits is a mistake, an _error_; and it was this error which was the principal cause of all the real difficulty in the case of judson j. hutchinson. mr. h. was made to believe that he was in company with his deceased brother, and that his own deceased children came and sat upon his knees, and put their arms about his neck. when he found himself sinking into an _abnormal state_, he was told to believe that it was _the spirits_, and that there was nothing _human_ about it. this, of course, mr. h. was ready to believe. he had heard of others being magnetized by spirits, and they were happy, very happy. and as this seemed to promise him _approximation_ to the spirit world, for which he was earnestly longing, he readily gave himself entirely to that idea." the operator, mr. hazard, of rochester, new york, suggested that mr. hutchinson should ask the spirits to move his (mr. h.'s) hand to the top of his own head, that then he (mr. h.) might know it was they. "but the operator should have known," says mr. sunderland, "that his _suggesting_ it to the mind of mr. hutchinson, in the manner he did, or, if mr. hutchinson's own mind was _directed_ to the movement of his own hand, _that_ was sufficient to cause his hand to move, _even if there had been no spirits in existence_. and so, when mr. h. went to cleveland, the difficulty was increased by a repetition of the cause. he fell into the same state again, of course, when similar _associations_ brought it up before his mind; and there he was again told by a clairvoyant lady, that she 'saw the spirits' (his brother benjamin and swedenborg) operating upon him. the effect was, to render him _insane_." his brother jesse says, that "the shock was too great for judson, on account of his bodily weakness, and that his feeble nature was too fine strung to bear up against the severe attacks, and it was with great difficulty he was brought back to milford, new hampshire." while in this state, mr. sunderland was sent for, and staid with him three days and three nights, to render him assistance. mr. s. says, "he was unfortunate in being told that he was magnetized by spirits, and still more so, perhaps, in the treatment he met with from some _uncongenial spirits_ in syracuse and in worcester." from this, as well as from some other unfortunate cases, persons are admonished to be careful to refrain from visiting such impostors. some have been told that st. paul, st. peter, st. luke, and timothy, were present, and answered questions put to them; but mr. davis and mr. sunderland declare it to be false. mr. davis says, "this point i have been led to investigate carefully; and at no one of the _circles_ referred to do i discover, upon the most critical interior retrospection, a _single_ communication from the veritable st. paul, nor from any one of his glorious compeers." so of benjamin franklin, who, it is said, has never condescended to converse but a very few times with earthly beings, though his name is often quoted in connection with clairvoyancy. the reason he is said to assign to mr. davis is, that he cannot "prevent the almost exact human imitations of his vibrations; and that they produce so much confusion and contradiction, that, he thinks it best to wait until some further improvement can be made in the mode of communication between the two worlds." yet how many are told that they have been put in communication with franklin! mr. sunderland says, "we need the same conditions, or guaranties, for believing _spirits_, that we do for believing _human_ testimony." speaking of those clairvoyants who are supposed to be exalted into the spirit sphere, so as to see and converse with spirits, he says, "whether they do, really, see the spirits, whom they think they do, must be determined by other things besides their own testimony. we are not obliged to take their own mere _ipse dixit_ upon this, any more than upon any other subject." and as yet, as has been remarked by dr. phelps, _there is no proof that what purports to be a revelation from spirits is the work of spirits at all_. mr. sunderland, for all we can see, is liable to be in an error, as well as others; and all the evidence he gives us that he has had interviews and holds conversations with spirits is that of his own testimony alone. and so of mr. davis. we have said that no dependence whatever can be placed upon the rapping spirits. dr. phelps, of stratford, connecticut, once heard a very loud rapping under the table while at his breakfast. "i asked if it was my sister. the answer was, 'yes.' 'well,' said i, 'if you are the spirit of my sister, you can tell me how many children you have in this world.' so the spirit commenced counting, and counted up to twenty-five, when i pronounced it a _lying_ spirit. i asked it, 'are you unhappy?' it answered, 'yes.' 'can i do you any good?' 'yes.' 'how?' the spirit then called for the alphabet, and spelled out, 'give me a glass of fresh gin.' 'what will you do with it,' said i. '_put it to my mouth._' i asked, 'where is your mouth?' no answer." letters, and lines written upon scraps of paper, have, it is said, been sent from the other world. the following was dropped from the ceiling of mrs. phelps's parlor when she and others were present. "sir,--sir sambo's compliments, and begs the ladies to accept as a token of his esteem." other papers have been similarly written upon, and signed "sam slick," "the devil," "beelzebub," "lorenzo dow," &c. on the th of march, , a large turnip was thrown against dr. phelps's parlor window, having several characters carved out upon it, somewhat resembling the chinese characters. a _fac-simile_ of them may be found in davis's explanation of modern mysteries, page . some may receive such things as emanations from the spirit world; but to us they seem too simple and puerile to be considered as having any thing to do with the higher spheres. dr. phelps, who has been witness to every species of manoeuvre of the alleged spirit rappers, says that he has become fully satisfied that no reliance whatever is to be placed on their communications, either as a source of valuable information, or as a means of acquiring truth. "i am satisfied," says he, "that their communications are _wholly worthless_. they are often contradictory, often prove false, frequently trifling and nonsensical, and more in character with what might be expected of a company of loafers on a spree than from spirits returned from a world of retribution to 'tell the secrets of their prison house.'" with regard to moving tables, chairs, beds, &c., mr. davis says that, "at a circle of friends in bridgeport, connecticut, there was a large congregation of spirits, who, from a distance of eighty miles, or thirty above the atmosphere of our earth, directed a mighty column of vital electricity and magnetism, which column or current, penetrating all intermediate substances, and by a process of infiltration, entered the fine particles of matter which composed the table, and raised it, several successive times, three or four feet from the floor!" this we are to receive upon his authority, or upon the testimony of those who may say they saw the table moved. but if the operator can _make things appear_ that _never occurred or existed_, and can _imagine_ a thing, and have that _imagination transferred to others_, then what evidence have we that _spirits_ are concerned in the transaction? just none at all. a while ago, we heard of an italian, at the massachusetts hospital, who could raise tables from the floor without touching them; and the art of so doing, he said, he learned in italy. and how are we to account for the millerites and others being so raised, as they believed? are they not as much to be credited as those who profess a belief in the miracles of the "harmonial philosophers"? for ourselves, we are satisfied that such things, for the most part, are but a delusion, whether they are alleged to take place among those supposed to be bewitched, the adventists, or the harmonials. as to the _rapping noises_, we are inclined to think they may have something to do with the knee and toe joints, and that the two performers usually sit together, in order the better to alternate with, and _spell_ or relieve each other. upon a fair trial, it certainly has been proved that the noises cannot be produced when the joints are grasped firmly by another. but it may be doubted by some whether the joints can be made to produce the distinct rappings that are sometimes heard. we think they can. a few years ago, a boy in london gave exhibitions of what was termed "_chin music_." it was done by striking the fists upon the lower jaw. by this practice he was able to produce quite loud and distinct sounds, and play a variety of tunes, to the amusement of the public. the sounds were made by the finger joints, it was supposed; and perhaps the jaw bone may have contributed its share in the performance. the sounds given by the "rapping spirits" are by no means so remarkable as many suppose. they are often quite indistinct, and nearly inaudible. unless a person was possessed of a large share of credulity, he would never consider them as the responses of an intelligent spirit. this is the decided conviction of hundreds who have witnessed their performances in various parts of the country. yet many have been, and others will be, deceived. and, doubtless, many tender and sensitive minds may be made insane by the wicked trifling of these unprincipled impostors. certainly we have not the least desire to set at nought any thing of a _truly serious_ character. yet we are constrained to believe that the things of which we have spoken are too ridiculous and nonsensical, if not actually _sinful_, to be entitled to the least favor from the public. the learned thomas dick, in his essay on the improvement of society, gives an account of far more singular and wonderful _phenomena_ produced by _mechanical_ agency, than any that has as yet been attributed to the agency of _spirits_, as affirmed by a. j. davis, or la roy sunderland. and we here subjoin the facts of the case, for the benefit of the public:-- "soon after the murder of king charles i., a commission was appointed to survey the king's house at woodstock, with the manor, park, and other demesnes belonging to that manor. one _collins_, under a feigned name, hired himself as secretary to the commissioners, who, upon the th october, , met, and took up their residence in the king's own rooms. his majesty's bed chamber they made their kitchen, the council hall their pantry, and the presence chamber was the place where they met for the despatch of business. things being thus prepared, they met on the th for business; and in the midst of their first debate, there entered a large _black dog_ (as they thought,) which made a dreadful howling, overturned two or three of their chairs, and then crept under a bed and vanished. this gave them the greater surprise, as the doors were kept constantly locked, so that no real dog could get in or out. the next day their surprise was increased, when, sitting at dinner in a lower room, they heard plainly the noise of persons walking over their heads, though they well knew the doors were all locked, and there could be nobody there. presently after, they heard, also, all the wood of the king's oak brought by parcels from the dining room, and thrown with great violence into the presence chamber, as also all the chairs, stools, tables, and other furniture forcibly hurled about the room; their papers, containing the minutes of their transactions, were torn, and the ink glass broken. when all this noise had ceased, giles sharp, their secretary, proposed first to enter into these rooms; and in presence of the commissioners, from whom he received the key, he opened the doors, and found the wood spread about the room, the chairs tossed about and broken, the papers torn, but not the least track of any human creature, nor the least reason to suspect one, as the doors were all fast, and the keys in the custody of the commissioners. it was therefore unanimously agreed that the power that did this mischief must have entered at the key-hole. the night following, sharp, with two of the commissioners' servants, as they were in bed in the same room, which room was contiguous to that where the commissioners lay, had their beds' feet lifted up so much higher than their heads, that they expected to have their necks broken, and then they were let fall at once with so much violence as shook the whole house, and more than ever terrified the commissioners. on the night of the th, as they were all in bed in the same room, for greater safety, and lights burning by them, the candles in an instant went out, with a sulphurous smell; and that moment many trenchers of wood were hurled about the room, which next morning were found to be the same their honors had eaten out of the day before, which were all removed from the pantry, though not a lock was found opened in the whole house. the next night they fared still worse; the candles went out, as before; the curtains of their honors' beds were rattled to and fro with great violence; they received many cruel blows and bruises by eight great pewter dishes and a number of wooden trenchers being thrown on their beds, which, being heaved off, were heard rolling about the room, though in the morning none of these were to be seen. "the next night the keeper of the king's house and his dog lay in the commissioners' room, and then they had no disturbance. but on the night of the d, though the dog lay in the room as before, yet the candles went out, a number of brickbats fell from the chimney into the room, the dog howled piteously, their bed clothes were all stripped off, and their terror increased. on the th, they thought all the wood of the king's oak was violently thrown down by their bedsides; they counted sixty-four billets that fell, and some hit and shook the beds in which they lay; but in the morning none was found there, nor had the door been opened where the billet wood was kept. the next night the candles were put out, the curtains rattled, and a dreadful crack, like thunder, was heard; and one of the servants, running in haste, thinking his master was killed, found three dozen of trenchers laid smoothly under the quilt by him. but all this was nothing to what succeeded afterwards. the th, about midnight, the candles went out; something walked majestically through the room, and opened and shut the windows; great stones were thrown violently into the room, some of which fell on the beds, others on the floor; and at about a quarter after one, a noise was heard as of forty cannon discharged together, and again repeated at about eight minutes' intervals. this alarmed and raised all the neighborhood, who, coming into their honors' room, gathered up the great stones, fourscore in number, and laid them by in the corner of a field, where they were afterwards to be seen. this noise, like the discharge of cannon, was heard for several miles round. during these noises, the commissioners and their servants gave one another over for lost, and cried out for help; and giles sharp, snatching up a sword, had well nigh killed one of their honors, mistaking him for the spirit, as he came in his shirt from his own room to theirs. while they were together, the noise was continued, and part of the tiling of the house was stripped off, and all the windows of an upper room were taken away with it. on the th, at midnight, something walked into the chamber, treading like a bear; it walked many times about, then threw the warming pan violently on the floor; at the same time, a large quantity of broken glass, accompanied with great stones and horse bones, came pouring into the room with uncommon force. on the st of november, the most dreadful scene of all ensued. candles in every part of the room were lighted up, and a great fire made; at midnight, the candles all yet burning, a noise like the bursting of a cannon was heard in the room, and the burning billets were tossed about by it even into their honors' beds, who called giles and his companions to their relief, otherwise the house had been burned to the ground; about an hour after, the candles went out as usual, the crack as of many cannon was heard, and many pailfuls of green stinking water were thrown upon their honors' beds; great stones were also thrown in as before, the bed curtains and bedsteads torn and broken, the windows shattered, and the whole neighborhood alarmed with the most dreadful noises; nay, the very rabbit stealers, that were abroad that night in the warren, were so terrified, that they fled for fear, and left their ferrets behind them. one of their honors this night spoke, and, _in the name of god, asked what it was, and why it disturbed them so_. no answer was given to this; but the noise ceased for a while, when the spirit came again; and as they all agreed, _brought with it seven devils worse than itself_. one of the servants now lighted a large candle, and set it in the doorway between the two chambers, to see what passed; and as he watched it, he plainly saw a hoof striking the candle and candlestick into the middle of the room, and afterwards, making three scrapes over the snuff, scraped it out. upon this the same person was so bold as to draw a sword; but he had scarcely got it out, when he felt another invisible hand holding it too, and pulling it from him, and at length, prevailing, struck him so violently on the head with the pommel, that he fell down for dead with the blow. at this instant was heard another burst, like the discharge of the broadside of a ship of war, and at the interval of a minute or two between each, no less than nineteen such discharges. these shook the house so violently that they expected every moment it would fall upon their heads. the neighbors, being all alarmed, flocked to the house in great numbers, and all joined in prayer and psalm singing; during which the noise continued in the other rooms, and the discharge of cannons was heard as from without, though no visible agent was seen to discharge them. but what was the most alarming of all, and put an end to their proceedings effectually, happened the next day, as they were all at dinner, when a paper, in which they had signed a mutual agreement to reserve a part of the premises out of the general survey, and afterwards to share it equally among themselves, (which paper they had hid for the present under the earth, in a pot in one corner of the room, and in which an orange tree grew,) was consumed in a wonderful manner by the earth's taking fire, with which the pot was filled, and burning violently with a blue flame and an intolerable stench, so that they were all driven out of the house, to which they could never be again prevailed upon to return." this story has been somewhat abridged from the encyclopædia britannica, where it is quoted from dr. plot's history of oxfordshire, in which these extraordinary occurrences are ascribed to satanic influence. at the time they happened, they were viewed as the effects of _supernatural powers_; and even dr. plot seems disposed to ascribe them to this cause. "though many tricks," says the doctor, "have often been played in affairs of this kind, yet many of the things above related are not reconcilable with juggling; such as the loud noises beyond the powers of man to make without such instruments as were not there; the tearing and breaking the beds; the throwing about the fire; the hoof treading out the candle; and the striving for the sword; and the blow the man received from the pommel of it." it was at length ascertained, however, that this wonderful contrivance was all the invention of the memorable joseph collins, of oxford, otherwise called _funny joe_, who, having hired himself as secretary under the name of _giles sharp_, by knowing the private traps belonging to the house, and by the help of _pulvis fulminans_, and other chemical preparations, and letting his fellow-servants into the scheme, carried on the deceit without discovery, to the very last. the occurrences which are said to have taken place at the house of the rev. dr. phelps, in stratford, connecticut, are not to be compared in their marvellousness to those we have quoted from dr. dick, and which things were the results of the _ingenuity of joe collins_. therefore, when we hear of such like occurrences in our day, there will be no necessity for us to attribute them to any supernatural influence, either good or bad; for it is a well-received maxim, that "_what man has done man can do_." to suppose that the merciful _father_ of _spirits_ would harass and frighten mankind by haunting their houses with strange noises and rappings, ghosts and hobgoblins, and spirits of the uneasy dead, would be derogatory to his paternal character. and who, for a moment, could believe that he would torment little children in this way, when our savior took them in his arms, and blessed them, and said, "of such is the kingdom of heaven"? no, we must attribute such things to any other source than as proceeding from the throne of god. up to the present time it may be that many will profess to the world that they have actually seen the spirits of the departed. yet this is no new profession, for the votaries of st. vitus, and the spiritually-minded shakers of later times, have declared to us that they have seen their departed friends and acquaintances. but even mr. davis is led to consider a large majority of these cases to be the results of cerebral agitation. "i can truthfully affirm," says he, "that the objects, localities, scenery, and personages, seen by those laboring under monomania, delirium tremens, &c., are of the same class of mental delusion, and are absolutely nothing more than the unconscious elaborations of the surcharged brain." chapter xvi. evil effects of popular superstitions. the following are some of the evils that result from a belief in popular superstitions:-- . they have caused a great waste of time. look at the practice of heathen nations. their religious ceremonies are altogether superstitious. all the time devoted to false gods must be considered as wasted. take a survey, too, of catholic countries. during the dark ages, their priests were engaged in nonsensical disputes. treatise after treatise was composed on such subjects as the following: how many angels can stand on the point of a needle? have spirits any navels? is the virgin mary the mother of god? and a thousand others equally senseless and unprofitable. in their monasteries, multitudes passed their days in repeating unintelligible prayers, poring over the legends of their saints, cutting figures in paper, and tormenting their bodies for the good of their souls. turn our attention to protestant lands, and here we find, also, that many a folio has been written on foolish and unintelligible subjects; that many a day has been occupied in trying and burning witches and heretics; that many a pharasaic custom has been scrupulously observed, and many an absurd opinion advanced and defended. even in our own times, many hours are occupied in discoursing about dreams and visions, signs and tricks, spectres and apparitions; in consulting charms and lots, and fortune tellers; in prying into future events and occurrences; in borrowing trouble on account of some supposed unfavorable omen; or in various other practices equally vain and superstitious. now, all this is wrong. time is given for no such purposes. we have but a short period allotted to us to remain in this world, and a great work to accomplish. let us then be always engaged in something useful and virtuous. . popular superstitions have caused a great waste of human life. cast your eye over the page of history. you there notice an account of the trial by ordeal. the accused person was required either to hold red-hot iron balls in his naked hands, or to walk over red-hot plates of iron with bare feet. if he escaped unburned, he was considered innocent; but if he was scorched, sentence of death was pronounced. or he was compelled either to thrust his arm into a caldron of boiling water, or be thrown into a deep pond. if he was either unscalded or drowned, his innocence was proved; but if he was scalded or could swim, the sentence of condemnation was passed. in neither case could life be saved, except by the interposition of a miracle; and this was not expected on such occasions. and through this superstition, thousands perished in the most cruel and unrighteous manner. a distinguished writer computes that more than one hundred thousand persons, of all ages, have suffered death for witchcraft alone. only think! one hundred thousand persons murdered for a crime of which no human person was ever guilty! there are others who bring upon themselves sickness, and even death, by their belief in signs, dreams, and forewarnings. but as the gospel sheds abroad its divine light, these things are found to recede, and to give place to more rational views of divine wisdom and goodness, in the control and arrangement of events having a relation to our being and happiness. the author of the family encyclopædia says, that "the superstitious notions of ghosts, spirits, &c., are rapidly declining; and notwithstanding all the solemn tales which have been propagated, there is no reason to believe that any real spirits or celestial agents have held intercourse with man since the establishment of christianity;" and that "the history of modern miracles, appearances of the dead, &c., will be always found, when thoroughly examined, merely the phantoms of a disordered imagination." . popular superstitions have caused great and unnecessary misery. we need not refer to history for an illustration of this assertion. we have sufficient examples around us. look into society, and we shall find one class who pay particular attention to all signs and dreams. if any thing unfavorable is indicated, their feelings are greatly depressed; and if the contrary, they are as much elated. if a little insect, called the death watch, knocks for its mate on the wall, sleepless nights are sure to follow. if they notice the new moon over the wrong shoulder, their comfort is destroyed for a whole month. nanny scott, the old washerwoman, is sure that another death will happen in the family this year, because, when her sister-in-law was taken out to be buried, somebody shut the door before the corpse was under ground, and so shut death into the house. and her neighbor, the good mrs. taylor, suffers the baby to scratch and disfigure its face, because it is said to be unlucky to cut the nails of a child under a year old. another neighbor has seen a single raven fly over the house, or heard a cricket chirping upon the hearth, and is greatly alarmed, because such things are said to be a sign of death to some member of the family within the year. and thus many are found who are silly enough to imbitter their own lives and the lives of others by such foolish superstitions. there may be noticed another class, whose belief in the supernatural origin of signs, omens, and warnings leads them to adopt measures for their speedy fulfilment. many a wedded couple seem to think they must quarrel because it happened to storm on the day they were married; and when some dispute arises between them, they fall to fighting, to prove, if possible, the truth of the prediction. and for all this interruption of domestic harmony, they blame, not their own tempers and passions, but the decrees of fate. many a person has concluded he must live in poverty all his days, because a few moles have appeared on the wrong side of his body. and hence he neglects all industry and economy, and dissipates his time, his privileges, and his talents. we may notice a third class, who give themselves to tricks, fortune telling, and opening books, to discover the events of futurity. their spirits vary with the supposed indications of good or evil occurrences. "a lady, who moved in the first circles, was once visiting in a clergyman's family of my acquaintance," says the late rev. bernard whitman, "and it was her regular morning custom to toss up a little box of pins, and make her happiness for the day depend upon their accidental variation in falling. if they came down more heads than points, she was cheerful and happy; but if more points than heads, she was gloomy and wretched. it seemed she valued her comfort, worth at least a brass pin." many a worthy christian has not only been deprived of his happiness, but betrayed into wild, extravagant, and even sinful acts, by attempting to follow the suggestion of the passage which first meets his eye on opening the bible. many a poor wight has formed a disadvantageous matrimonial alliance, because some old hag has described black eyes and rosy cheeks as the characteristics of his future bride. we may notice, moreover, a fourth class, who are forever anticipating some dreadful calamity. let any fool solemnly proclaim that war, famine, or pestilence is approaching, and they will give more heed to it than to that holy word which assures us that our heavenly father will never leave nor forsake us. all uncommon appearances in the heavens they look upon as indications of the threatened judgments of an angry god. even the beautiful aurora borealis, which spans the blue concave above us, was so interpreted. to permit such fears to disturb and destroy our happiness is a sin against heaven. our heavenly father created us for enjoyment. he has furnished us with capacities and means of felicity. he has even commanded us to rejoice in the lord always. he has given us a religion to effect this desirable object. it is as much a part of this religion to be always cheerful, contented, and happy, as to be always temperate, just, and virtuous. and if people would take one tenth part of the pains to make themselves happy that they do to render themselves miserable, there would be ten times the present amount of happiness. "by the grace of god," says the rev. john wesley, "i never fret. i repine at nothing; i am discontented at nothing. and to have persons at my ear fretting and murmuring at every thing is like tearing the flesh from off my bones. i see god sitting upon his throne, and ruling all things well." a companion of mr. wesley says that he never saw him low-spirited in his life, nor could he endure to be with an unhappy, melancholic person. "every believer," he often remarked, "should enjoy life." "i dare no more fret," said he, "than curse or swear." would that all christians were as cheerful and consistent as mr. wesley. there would be less of dark and dismal forebodings; less of distrust, and more of solid peace and comfort, in the soul. it seems that melancthon was somewhat of a melancholic turn of mind, and, when gloomy and dejected, would call upon luther, and relate to him his troubles and afflictions. luther, being of a more lively and hopeful turn, after listening to him a short time, would jump upon his feet, and say, "come, come, let us sing the forty-sixth psalm;" and when they had sung that, all was peaceful and happy again. as to what is commonly termed good or ill luck, we may be assured that they have no other existence but in the imagination. luck means chance; but every thing, great and small, is under the wise and gracious direction of god. nothing can happen without his permission, and he permits nothing but what, in his wonderful plans, he designs to work for our good. we are kept in ignorance of the particular events that are to befall us, in order to keep alive within us an abiding sense of our dependence on god, and a constant obedience to the directions of his word, by which alone we can be prepared to meet the dispensations of his providence. the bible tells us quite enough of futurity to teach us to prepare for it, as far as it rests with us to prepare. and it is both vain and wicked to endeavor to obtain any further information from any other source, or for any one to pretend that they possess it. had it been necessary for our good that we should know every thing beforehand, the information would have been given us in the bible, or it would have been left so that we could have gathered it from general instruction and observation, as is the case with every kind of knowledge that is essential to our present as well as everlasting good. it certainly would not have been left to creaking doors, croaking ravens, or ill-made tallow candles. neither would god reveal to weak and wicked men or women the designs of his providence, which no human wisdom is able to foresee. to consult these false oracles is not only foolish, but sinful. it is foolish, because they themselves are as ignorant as those whom they pretend to teach; and it is sinful, because it is prying into that futurity which god, in mercy, as well as in wisdom, hides from man. god indeed orders all things; but when you have a mind to do a foolish thing, do not fancy that you are _fated_ to do it; this is tempting providence, not trusting god. it is charging him with folly. prudence is his gift, and you obey him better when you make use of prudence, under the direction of prayer, than when you heedlessly rash into ruin, and think you are only submitting to your fate. fancy never that you are compelled to undo yourself, or to rush upon your own destruction, in compliance with any supposed fatality. believe never that god conceals his will from a sober christian, who obeys his laws, and reveals it to a vagabond, who goes from place to place, breaking the laws both of god and man. king saul never consulted the witch until he left off serving god. the bible will direct us best. conjurers are impostors; and there are no days unlucky but those we make so by our vanity, folly, and sin. . popular superstitions have greatly injured the cause of medicine. that superstition which leads people to believe in the efficacy of charms is very injurious. we will enumerate a few cases by way of example. the scrofula, for instance, is frequently called the _king's evil_. it received this name because it was generally believed that the touch of a king would cure the disorder. for centuries this belief was so prevalent, that any one who should call it in question would have been considered no less than an infidel, and an enemy to his king and country. and so great was the demand for the king's touch, from invalids, that one day in seven was set apart for the king to bestow healing mercies on his subjects. vast numbers flocked to him, from wales, ireland, scotland, and many parts of the continent. an exact register was kept of the number of persons who came to charles the second for relief, from to , and they amounted to twenty-three thousand six hundred and one. from may, , to , the number of persons touched amounted to sixty-eight thousand five hundred and six. total, ninety-two thousand one hundred and seven. the practice was begun in the year , and continued until the reign of the present royal family, who were possessed of too much sense to encourage such an idle superstition. but notwithstanding this belief and practice were abandoned by the royal family, yet, with some individuals, a belief still prevails that certain persons are endowed with healing power. in , a farmer in devonshire, england, who was the ninth son of a ninth son, officiated in the cure of the king's evil, and multitudes believed that they received healing from his touch. in this country, a _seventh_ son of a seventh son has officiated in similar cases, and performed incredible cures, as we are told by those who think they have received signal blessings through his instrumentality. not many years since, the cold hands of a convict, who had terminated his life on the gallows, in liverpool, were drawn over several wens a number of times to effect a cure. a person in one of our western states ran a pitchfork into his hand, and he applied a plaster to the cold iron as well as to the fresh wound. when people run a nail into their foot, they frequently save and polish the rusty iron to facilitate the recovery. some time since, in the state of maine, the body of a female was taken from the grave, her heart taken out, dried, and pulverized, and given to another member of the family, as a specific against the consumption. and the same thing has more recently been done in the town of waltham, massachusetts. the heart was reduced to a powder, and made into pills, but they did not cure the patient; while the person who took up the remains from the grave, and removed the heart, came very near losing his life, from the putrefactive state of the corpse at the time. we could relate many other cases, equally foolish and disgusting. all such things should be classed under the general name of charms, and be looked upon as relics of the grossest superstitions. why not as well have the touch of a slave as a king? why not as well apply your plaster to a tree as to a pitchfork? why not as well drink the heart of a lamb as a woman? you may say that god has determined certain cures shall follow certain applications. no such determination is published in his word, and no such conclusions can be inferred from facts. you may pretend that a special miracle is wrought in such cases. but this is incredible; for the object is not compatible with the miraculous interposition of deity. and the few cures which are reputed to have taken place can be satisfactorily accounted for, on the influence of the imagination, and other natural causes. so that such a belief is not only superstitious, but calculated to lead people to neglect the proper means of recovery, and thus injure themselves and the medical profession. in the years , ' , and ' , a mr. austin of colchester, vermont, gave out that he was a gifted person in the art of healing; and if the patient would describe to him, by word of mouth, or by letter, the true symptoms of his malady, he would receive healing at his word, if indeed his disease was curable. in a very little time the obscure retreat of austin was thronged with invalids, coming from almost every section of the country; and colchester was scarcely less in favor than ballston or saratoga. the mail carriers groaned under the burden of maladies described. bar rooms at public inns, on roads leading to colchester, were decorated with letters directed to the "prophet of colchester;" and vagrants were found travelling over the country, collecting of invalids their evil symptoms, to be truly and faithfully delivered to the prophet in a given time, at the moderate price of fifty cents per letter. we were soon referred to cases wherein the most inveterate deafness was removed; the blind saw; dropsies and consumptions, in the last stages of them, were cured; and the patient, it is said, in many instances, would tell the day and the hour when their letters were received by the prophet, although they might be some hundred miles distant from the deliverer, because, at such an hour, they began to mend. the prophet, however, did not long enjoy his far-famed celebrity. his house, after a while, was deserted of invalids. the people discovered their folly, and permitted him to sink into his former merited obscurity. it was just the same with the celebrated _rain-water_ doctor, as he was called, who established himself at one time in providence, and at another time in the vicinity of boston. many of those now living can recollect the accounts of marvellous cures, and the flocking of invalids of all descriptions to his temple of health. but the community at length discovered the imposition of his practice, and left him to the undisturbed enjoyment of his rain water and his gruel. the most recent case of medical imposition practised upon the public, that has come to our knowledge, is that of a practitioner in new york city, who, by receiving a letter from sick or diseased persons, giving the year, day, and hour of their birth, immediately forwards them a package of medicine suited to their case. it seems to be a matter of astonishment to many how he arrives at a knowledge of their state of health, so as to be able to adapt his remedies to their several conditions. but it is probably done on the principles of astrology--by finding the planet under which the patient is born, the diseases appertaining to that planet, and the _plants_ belonging to the same, which are supposed to have a special effect upon the relative _planetary_ diseases. culpepper, in his english herbal, if we mistake not, arranges or classifies all plants and diseases in this way, and contends that astrology is the only true key to medical science. fortune telling is practised upon a similar plan, through the agency of _astrology_. but the whole is a deception, entirely unworthy the age in which we live. the fortune teller may hit upon an incident which is correct, once in a while, and it would be strange if he did not. and the _astrological physician_ may prescribe some little tonic, or stimulant, that will raise the drooping spirits for a time, and actually lead the hopeful patient to believe that he or she is fast recovering from their long-afflictive maladies. but the sequel too often teaches them the lesson of their sad mistake. the history of valentine greataks, the son of an irish gentleman, who lived in the time of cromwell, is very similar to what we have related of the prophet of colchester. and about the same time, francisco bagnone, a capuchin friar, was famous in italy, having a gift of healing, principally by his hands only. multitudes of sick people attended him wherever he went, to obtain healing mercy. and here, perhaps, we may find the true principle on which all the impositions of popery have been maintained for centuries gone by. it cannot be a matter of surprise that, if men, of more information than they, can be made to believe that they are delivered from disease by experiments of magnetism, tractors, or the mere touch of the hand, these should believe that they are healed by visiting the tombs of saints; by standing before their statues; being touched by nails from their coffins, rings from their fingers, or by the bones of the fingers themselves. we are by no means authorized to say that none of these persons were relieved of pains and diseases by seeking relief in this way. so great is the influence of the imagination on the nervous, vascular, and muscular systems, as has already been shown, that it would be no more than probable that obstructions, causing pain and sickness, should in some instances be removed, and lay a foundation for recovery. and, moreover, that in a still greater number of instances the power of the imagination on the origin of the nerves within the brain should counteract the motion to the brain by disease acting upon the extremities of the nerves; and thus the patient for a season might experience relief from pain, and even feel pleasure, as was the case with an artist upon the pont royal, mentioned by dr. sigault, and in the gambols of the rheumatic patient, as mentioned by dr. haygarth. but in all these cases, experiment and illustration, like those of the commissioners at paris, and like that of dr. haygarth in england, would disclose the real ground of these effects. the patients would no longer attribute them to a supernatural influence. they would learn why, in most cases, the relief supposed to be obtained was only momentary, and why all those gifted persons, both in europe and america, have had no more than an ephemeral celebrity, and, in most instances, lived to see themselves neglected, and their pretensions become the subjects of just satire and reproof. . popular superstitions have greatly injured the cause of religion. that superstition which allows any substitute for personal holiness is very pernicious. the pharisees considered themselves holy, because they were the descendants of faithful abraham. they fasted twice a week; paid tithes of all they possessed; made long prayers in public places; and were strict observers of all sacred days and religious ceremonies. at the same time, they neglected the weightier matters of the law--justice, mercy, faithfulness; devoured widows' houses; were proud, bigoted, and self-righteous. some people think they lived only in the times of the apostles. "but we should recollect," says the rev. george whitefield, "that vipers and toads have the most eggs, and most numerous progeny. if you were to look at the eggs of a toad through a microscope, you would be surprised at the innumerable multitude; and the pharisees are an increasing generation of vipers, which hatch and spread all over the world. if you would know a pharisee, he is one who pretends to endeavor, and talks about keeping the law of god, and does not know its spirituality. there are some of them very great men, in their own estimation, and frequently make the greatest figure in the church. one of them, a gentleman's son, because he had not broken the letter of the law, thought he was right and without sin. "o," says he, "if i have nothing to do but to keep the commandments, i am safe. i have honored my father and mother; i never stole; what need he to steal who has so good an estate? i never committed adultery." no, no! he loved his character too well for that: but our lord opens to him the law--_this one thing thou lackest; go, sell all thou hast, and give to the poor_: he loved his money more than his god; christ brought him back to the first commandment, though he catechized him first in the fifth. so paul was a pharisee. he says, '_i was alive without the law, once; i was, touching the law, blameless_." how can that be? can a man be without the law, and yet, touching the law, be blameless? says he, "i was without the law; that is, i was not brought to see its spirituality. i thought myself a very good man." no man could say of paul, black is his eye. "but," says he, "when god brought the commandment with power upon my soul, then i saw my specks, and beheld my lack of true righteousness." some roman catholics perform tedious pilgrimages; lacerate their own bodies; abstain from meats on certain days; and some have paid the pope or priests for the pardon of their sins, or purchased indulgences for the commission of wickedness. some protestants, too, attend punctually upon all religious meetings, subscribe liberally to the charities of the day, observe all gospel ordinances, and profess great attachment to the cause of christ; and yet are fretful, unkind, and disobliging in their families; censorious in their conversation; uncharitable in their judgment; grasping in their dealings, and unhappy in their dispositions. some have thought that, because christ died for the sins of the whole world they could commit sin with impunity; or, if they were elected, they could do what they pleased, and be sure of heaven at last. but all these things have no foundation in reason, experience, or revelation, and may therefore be considered superstitious. a belief in them is exceedingly injurious to the cause of piety and holiness, because it leads to the neglect of the one thing needful--a uniformly sober, righteous, and godly life. god will certainly render unto every man according to his deeds. be he pharisee or sadducee, catholic or protestant, elect or non-elect, he can escape the punishment of no sin but by repentance and reformation. and no sin is ever removed, no virtue is ever given, by miracle. our iniquities must be forsaken, and our goodness acquired, by our own exertions, aided by the promised influence of the holy spirit. and, until we have accomplished these ends, we cannot rationally expect pure and permanent happiness. there have been opinions respecting the devil, tinctured somewhat with superstition, that have contributed to bring reproach upon the scriptures, which were supposed to teach the existence of just such a being as many believed him to be. martin luther, in speaking of his confinement in the castle of wartburg, says, "the people brought me, among other things, some hazel nuts, which i put into a box, and sometimes i used to crack and eat of them. in the night time, my gentleman, the devil, came and got the nuts out of the box, and cracked them against one of the bed posts, making a very great noise and rumbling about my bed; but i regarded him nothing at all: when afterwards i began to slumber, then he kept such a racket and rumbling upon the chamber stairs, as if many empty barrels and hogsheads had been tumbling down." dr. cotton mather, in the time of new england witchcraft, took home one of the possessed damsels, to learn the ways and works of satan. when the doctor called the family to prayers, she would whistle, and sing, and yell, to drown his voice, would strike at him with her fist, and try to kick him. but her hand or foot would always recoil when within an inch or two of his body; thus giving the idea that there was a sort of invisible coat of mail, of heavenly temper, and proof against the assaults of the devil, around his sacred person. she seemed to be greatly displeased at the thought of his making public the doings of her master, the evil one; and when he attempted to write a sermon against him, she would disturb and interrupt him all manner of ways. for instance, she once knocked at his study door, and said that there was somebody down stairs that would be glad to see him; he dropped his pen, and went down: upon entering the room he found no one there but his own family. he afterwards undertook to chide her for having told a falsehood. she denied that she told a falsehood. "did not you say that there was somebody down stairs that would be glad to see me?" "well," she replied, with great pertness, "is not mrs. mather always glad to see you?" she even went much further than this in persecuting the good man while he was writing his sermon: she threw large books at his head. but he struggled manfully at these buffetings of satan, as he considered them to be, finished the sermon, related all these and other kindred circumstances in it, preached and published it. richard baxter wrote the preface to an edition printed in london, in which he declares that "he who will not be convinced, by the evidence dr. mather presents, that the child was bewitched, must be a very obdurate sadducee." a few years since, a house in maine was said to be haunted. the building and furniture were shaken, dreadful noises were heard, dismal sights were seen, and heavy blows were received. the occupant of the house had lately left a calvinistic theological seminary. he afterwards became a settled universalist preacher. "a neighboring family informed me," says the late bernard whitman, "that he now considered it the spirit of god, haunting him to forsake calvinism, and proclaim universal salvation." his explanation, though satisfactory to himself, may not be equally so to our readers. the devil should never be made a packhorse for our sins, nor should our thoughts be turned from within, causing us to neglect a watch upon our own lusts and passions, in looking for the assaults of some outward tempter. the effect sometimes produced upon the minds of children has a very unfavorable influence. a pious mother, not finding it convenient to attend her little son to rest, told him to omit his prayers for one night. "mother," said the child, "will the devil forgive me if i neglect my prayers?" "what shall we say," says the late professor stuart, "of the excessive use that has been made of the passages that speak of his influence and dominion? because, in reference to the wide-spread influence of satan, he is called the 'prince of this world,' and even the 'god of this world,' are we _literally_ to interpret passages of this nature, and thus in a clandestine manner introduce effectually the old dualism of zoroaster and the persians? this, indeed, has often, very often, been substantially done; done, i acknowledge, for the most part without any direct intention of such a nature. still there is an impression, wide spread among the lower classes of people, even in our own country, that satan is a kind of omnipotent being; and he is often represented as the successful, or rather the invincible, rival of the great redeemer. "yet the new testament is full enough of instruction relative to this subject to correct any erroneous views in relation to it, if it be duly examined. i need only appeal to the large class of passages which represent satan as a conquered enemy; as 'falling like lightning from heaven;' as being reduced to a state of impotence in respect to that deadly power which he exercises, (heb. ii. ;) and all the evil principalities, and powers, and magistrates ( cor. xv. , eph. vi. , col. ii. ) as being subdued, or to be subdued and utterly discomfited, by christ; for 'the prince of this world is cast out,' (john xii. ;) 'the son of god was manifested that he might destroy the works of the devil,' ( john iii. ;) and christians are every where spoken of as being liberated from his dominion and power, ( john v. - .) when the apostle, therefore, calls satan 'the god of this world,' and the savior calls him 'the prince of this world,' it is the world of the wicked which is meant; for such is the usual idiom of the scriptures. and as to the power of satan over the wicked, it is every where presented in the new testament as something that will wholly cease after a time, and the reign of the prince of peace become universal. "how deeply these considerations intrench upon the long-practised methods of exhibiting satan as omnipotent and omnipresent every thinking mind will easily perceive. especially has the romish church erred here beyond all bounds of reason or moderation. according to the doctrines which they sedulously inculcate, satan has not only irresistible power over the world of the wicked, but, next to such a power, even over christians. nothing but exorcisms, and holy chrisms, and lustrations with holy water, and incantations, and the like, can keep off evil spirits, or disarm them of their fatal power. and as the consummation and chief end of all the doctrine, nothing short of the interposition of the priesthood can secure any one against destruction, either in this world or the next--an interposition, however, which is not _freely given_, as the savior commanded the disciples to impart the blessings of the gospel, but to be purchased at whatever price the church may fix upon it."--_bibliotheca sacra_, february, . language sometimes used in times of excitement is prejudicial to the cause of religion. it is sometimes said that the almighty is visiting such a town; that he is coming this way; that he has taken up his abode in a certain village; that he will remain but a few days; that he has been driven away by unbelievers, and that he cannot be expected again for some months or years. now, it should be remembered that god is every where present, and that his spirit is always striving within the soul; and its voice is drowned only by the strife and tumult of our own discordant passions. the spirit is ever ready to assist us, whenever we resolve to use our own efforts in hearty coöperation. and if revivals of religion seem to be of a _periodical_ nature, it is because our own zeal or engagedness is too fitful. the church can enjoy a constant season of refreshing from the presence of the lord, only let its members be ever active, ever diligent, ever devoted and persevering. god works not by miracle, but through the agency of common means or efforts. we must not, therefore, defer attention to the duties of religion, in expectation of some special interposition of heaven. we should remember that a sober, righteous, and godly life is the best evidence of true conversion; and that we are called upon _to work out our own salvation_ with fear and trembling, god himself having vouchsafed to work within us both to will and to do of his good pleasure. chapter xvii. banishment of popular superstitions. seeing the evils of popular superstitions, what course shall we adopt for their banishment? or, in other words, how shall we best lend a helping hand to hasten the downfall of ignorance, error, and sin? . we must deliver ourselves from their domination; for we are all more or less under their influence. when any of the common signs of good or evil fortune appear before us, our thoughts involuntarily recur to the thing supposed to be signified. sometimes a momentary shudder is communicated to the whole system; unpleasant sensations are often excited; and frequently a depression of spirits is produced. and how can we free ourselves from this thraldom? by the exercise of our reason. a proper use of our reasoning faculties will enable us to accomplish this undertaking. we must endeavor to convince ourselves that all these things are the offspring of ignorance; that they have no foundation in reason, philosophy, or religion; and that they are exceedingly pernicious in their consequences. when fully persuaded of these truths, we must strive to make our feelings coincide with the dictates of our understandings. and this we can effect by persevering self-discipline. such exertions, with the blessing of heaven, will eventually deliver us from the inconvenience, vexation, and slavery of popular superstitions. and as such a consummation is most ardently to be desired, we must enter upon the duty with a zeal and earnestness commensurate with its importance. . we must also assist our fellow-men in the performance of this great and good work. when we meet with those who believe in ghosts, in signs, enchantments, and divination, we must try to persuade them that no dependence whatever can be placed on any of these vanities--that they are all fictions, absurdities, and abominations. and perhaps, in some cases, if we cannot produce conviction by sober sense and sound argument, we may be justified in resorting to ridicule. it is a lamentable consideration that so much time should be criminally wasted in many families in explaining tricks, relating and expounding dreams, telling fortunes, and in detailing stories of haunted houses, hobgoblins, and spirits of the supposed uneasy dead. in this way, the evil is cherished, and transmitted from generation to generation. but if we can succeed in giving an opposite direction to conversation; if we can induce people to reason upon these things, and inquire into their origin, causes, and effects, and investigate the evidence on which they are imagined to rest, and adopt rational conclusions, we shall be usefully employed. a course like this would eventually lead to the banishment of popular superstitions, with their baneful effects upon our peace and happiness; especially if we labor to impress upon the minds of others the existence of an all-wise providence, that controls and governs all things for the highest good of all, calling upon us to place our trust in him, without whose notice not even a sparrow falleth to the ground. . we must likewise attend to the early education of our children. it is during infancy and childhood that our heads are filled with "nursery tales" and marvellous stories. they are told us by those to whose care we are early intrusted, either to frighten us into obedience, to gratify our thirst for the new and wonderful, or to while away a tedious evening. they sink into our confiding hearts, and leave impressions the most pernicious and the most lasting. could a child be educated without any knowledge of such things, he would never be troubled with their baneful influence. our duty is therefore plain. in taking the principal care of our children at home, we should not permit them to learn any such things from our own lips; and we should evince, too, by our daily conduct, that they exert no influence on our own feelings, character, or happiness. in intrusting our offspring in early life to the care of other persons, we must charge them, as faithful guardians of the young, to conceal every thing of the kind from their knowledge. and after our children become of sufficient age to associate with others, we must caution them to avoid believing or relating any superstitious tales as they would shun known falsehoods. by persevering in this course, we shall save them from the degrading influence of popular superstitions. . we must, moreover, endeavor to increase the means of public education. we generally find that the most enlightened are the most free from superstition; and it therefore follows that a high degree of mental cultivation will effect a general deliverance. and how shall this great object be accomplished? we must reason with them upon the immense value and importance of knowledge. we must show them, by an appeal to facts, that all our civil, social, domestic, and religious blessings depend on the intelligence and virtue of the people. but perhaps many will complain of the scarcity of money and the want of means. if so, we must also show them, by an appeal to incontrovertible facts, that more money is annually wasted, in all our towns, in extravagant living, dress, furniture, and equipage; squandered in shows, amusements, balls, and parties; in gaming, dissipation, public parades, and intoxicating liquors, than is expended for the instruction of the rising generation. no, there is not a lack of funds. where there is a will there is also a way. the value and importance of the subject is not generally understood; or, if understood, is not properly appreciated. almost every thing else seems of more consequence than learning and wisdom. yet this will never answer. the world is growing wiser. those who will not employ the requisite means must rest contented with comparative ignorance. let _us_ not be of this unworthy number. if we feel the importance of the change in these respects, let us persevere in our laudable exertions, leaving no objections unanswered, no measures untried, until we succeed in giving our children a high degree of education. and if the father of spirits shall see fit to prolong our lives to witness the results, we shall look upon the almost universal banishment of popular superstitions. . finally, we must labor for the diffusion of pure and undefiled religion, adhering alone to the teachings of jesus. we shall then believe in one perfect, all-pervading spirit, who regulates all the events of this world which are above our control, and that all his various dispensations originate in perfect wisdom and goodness. we shall believe that we have no worse enemies than our own sinful lusts and passions, and that power is given us through faith to conquer these, even in this state of existence. we shall believe that it is as much our duty to be always happy as it is to be always honest and virtuous. we shall have the assurance that our heavenly father has commissioned no fate nor chance, spectres nor devils, to torment us. and if we live up to this belief, we shall secure a large share of temporal enjoyment, and be prepared for the increased and increasing felicity of the spiritual world. if we produce this state of faith and practice in ourselves and in those around us, we shall have done much for the banishment of popular superstitions and the downfall of ignorance, error, and sin. part second. miracle in springfield, massachusetts. four gentlemen in springfield, not long since, publicly attested to a "miracle," performed, as they believed, by spirits, at a "circle" where they were present. it consisted in moving a table, and a number of chairs in the room, and in shocks, resembling distant thunder, or cannon at a distance, causing the persons and the chairs and tables to tremble in such a manner that the effects were both seen and felt, the room being well lighted at the time, and an opportunity afforded for the closest inspection, so that the company unitedly declare that _they know they were not imposed upon nor deceived_. now, there is nothing very remarkable in this affair, for all might have been done by the medium himself, by first pathetizing the persons present, as it might be done without their knowledge, and while in that state could be made to see and hear any thing imagined by the operator. we are assured, by one who knows, that it is impossible for those who are fit subjects to be present at a circle without being more or less under the mesmeric influence. and, in such cases, they can be _willed_ to remember or forget what they have seen or heard. we do not consider such persons as competent witnesses in such a case as they have testified to. it may all have been induced, or it may all have been real. and if real, there was no need to refer it to the agency of spirits, since such things have been done without spirits, as in the case of joe collins, or others which we shall refer to, in this part of our volume. but here we may be told, that a thousand dollars has been offered to any one who will prove that such things are produced by any other power than that of _spirits_. but the same sum has been offered to any one who will prove that _spirits_ move tables, chairs, and the like, or that _spirits_ produce the noises and other manifestations ascribed to them. we have heard the case of a person who went to a medium and wished to know if he could be put in communication with his father, who had died several years before. he was answered in the affirmative. but the inquirer desired, as proof that it would actually be the spirit of his father that would be introduced to him, that a pencil and paper should be laid upon a table, and that the spirit of the father should come and write his own name upon the paper, the son feeling assured that, if this were done, he should at once recognize both the name and the writing. accordingly, the spirit in question came, and did as was desired, and the son declared it to be the real name and handwriting of his father. now, the philosophy of the case is this: the inquirer was first pathetized, although ignorant of the fact at the time--a thing very common, though not generally understood. thus the medium became acquainted with the name of the father as it existed in the mind of the son; but did the pencil actually write the name upon the paper? no. it was only made to _appear_ so to the mind of the inquirer. as to the handwriting, the inquirer's mind was directed to a piece of paper, and to look at the writing. of course, he saw his father's name, and the handwriting, for he could see nothing else for the time being, his mind being impressed with that one idea or object, and closed to every thing else. it was in fact, to him, his father's name and chirography, and no one's else. it could not be otherwise while his mind was under the control of the operator. we have been told of a lady, who, in a magnetized state, sits at a table and writes down information that is imparted to her, as is said, from the world of spirits. her hand and pen glide over the paper with astonishing speed and velocity, far more rapid than the most expert penman in a normal state. and what astonishes many is, that she cannot stop writing when she wishes to, and sometimes becomes so exceedingly fatigued as to beg of the spirit or spirits to grant her a little repose from the wearisome task. but the whole matter is easily accounted for, without referring it to the supposed agency of spirits. the lady's arm is first paralyzed--deprived of motion by the will of the medium or operator, so that her own mind or will has not the least control over it. she thus becomes a mere machine, under the will and control of another, whose will directs the movements of the arm and pen, and dictates what is written in answer to inquiries made of things appertaining to the spirit world, just as miss martineau declares, in her letters on magnetism, that "the volitions of the mesmerist may actuate the movements of the patient's limbs, and suggest the material of his ideas." many singular effects are produced upon the minds and feelings of subjects in a sleep-waking state, by professor williams, dr. cutter, and others, such as being made drunk with water, eating cayenne as sugar, exercising complete control over their mental as well as physical condition. we have been assured by a pathetist, who is a thorough adept in the profession, that he _can_ and often _has_ put persons in communication _apparently_ with a deceased father, mother, brother, sister, or friend. the individual is first _pathetized_ (another name for mesmerism) by him in a wakeful state, though unconscious, it may be, that he is under such an influence. his mind being in the possession and under the control of the operator, a person is now either actually or mentally (for it makes no difference) presented before him, and he is told of the fact, and asked, _do you not see your father?_ the idea of _father_ is so presented to the mind, through the organ of _form_, that the organ can take cognizance of none other than the father. the _person_, if an actual person is employed for the occasion, is then shifted or changed for another person; yet the subject perceives no difference, even if changed successively for a dozen others; it is all the same; it is _father_, and no one else, through the whole exhibition. the father speaks, the son recognizes his voice, and they converse together. the subject can be willed to hear any sound, as that of music, artillery, thunder, and the like, though no sounds whatever are in reality made. a niece of ours was operated on in this way, and she was told to look abroad and behold the majestic waves of the ocean, the pageantry of a military procession; and she saw and was delighted with the scenes that were _willed_ to pass before her. apples were oranges to her, and she sucked their juice with a delightful zest. an apple paring held before her was a beautiful bird, then a squirrel, a rabbit, or whatever the operator _willed_ it to become. the mind of the operator and the subject, in such cases, become as one, and they then hear, see, taste, and feel the same thing at the same moment. miss martineau says that, while in a mesmeric state, she saw "things out of other worlds--not the things themselves, but _impressions_ of them." "they come," says she, "from my brain. the influence does not separate soul and body, but it sets the body at rest, while it exalts and elevates the thinking powers." "a striking incident," says miss m., "occurred in one of my earliest walks after recovery from a protracted illness. my mesmerist and i had reached a headland nearly half a mile from home, and were resting there, when she proposed to mesmerize me a little--partly to refresh me for our return, and partly to see if any effect would be produced in a new place, and while a fresh breeze was blowing. she merely laid her hand upon my forehead, and in a minute or two the usual appearances came, assuming a strange air of novelty from the scene in which i was. after the blurring of the outlines, which made all objects more dim than the dull gray day had already made them, the phosphoric lights appeared, glorifying every rock and headland, the horizon, and all the vessels in sight. one of the dirtiest and meanest of the steam tugs in the port was passing at the time, and it was all dressed in heavenly radiance--the last object that my imagination would select as an element of a vision. then, and often before and since, did it occur to me, that if i had been a pious and very ignorant catholic, i could not have escaped the persuasion that i had seen heavenly visions. every glorified object before my eyes would have been a revelation; and my mesmerist, with the white halo around her head, and the illumined profile, would have been a saint or an angel." we know not whether, in this instance, the mesmerist _willed_ her subject to behold things as she did, yet as to the general truth _that the will of the operator can produce in the subject mesmerized those states of mind and body which he wills him or her to experience_, there is abundant evidence. o. s. fowler, editor of the phrenological journal, says he "can bear ample testimony to the fact, as he has seen, experienced, and _induced_ similar states by the thousand." and many others testify to the same effect. persons can be made to travel to other countries, and even to other spheres, and come back and tell what they have seen. and as persons vary in the talent of description and observation, in the normal state, so do they vary in a semi-abnormal condition. some are found to be _better travellers_, and will see more than others, and in spiritual things will differ in their descriptions as they differ in religious creeds and sentiments. thus a swedenborg, or a fishbough, sees a hell in the future state, where sinners suffer the penalty of their earthly sins; while an ambler, or a davis, discovers that all men are alike joyful and happy. mr. davis has seen fit to caution the public not to believe too quickly or too fully the things excitable persons relate; "because some minds are naturally inclined to exaggerate or enlarge upon every thing which they may feel, see, or hear." the _state_ alluded to is merely _induced_. it is not real. persons are frequently made to do what they believe is done by others, as in the case of a son of dr. phelps, of stratford, connecticut. the boy, on one occasion, was found (with a rope passed under his arms) suspended to the limb of a tree, having been taken, as was supposed, from his bed in the evening by spirits, and thus treated by them. the boy declared that when it was done, he "screamed at the top of his voice;" but it was ascertained that he made no noise at all, for if he had, the domestics, who were in the kitchen when he passed through it, must have heard him, which they did not. we have the testimony of a. j. davis, himself, that the boy "really supposed that he had called aloud; and so far from having been tied to the tree _by spirits, he had been made unconsciously instrumental in tying himself to the tree_!" "i have heard," says mr. davis, "instances of mischief cited, as occurring in dr. phelps's house, in evidence of _satanic agency_, which i now discover to have been caused or accomplished by one of the children in sport, sometimes by electrical discharges and magnetic attractions, and sometimes by the almost unpardonable mischievousness of persons unknown to the family. the wanton destruction of property alleged to have taken place on this gentleman's premises is referable, in most cases, to emanations of vital electricity, seeking its equilibrium in the atmosphere. in this manner window panes were broken and furniture injured. in woodbridge, new york, some few years ago, a young lady was affected with a disease which gave rise to similar phenomena. mysterious sounds were heard in her presence; window panes were frequently broken in her vicinity; and, in like manner, door panels were burst out, sometimes falling _towards_ her, sometimes _from_ her, and quick, concussive, and very loud sounds were heard under her feet as she ascended a flight of stairs. ultimately, the mysterious phenomena frightened her into an illness which cured the malady." "people cannot be too cautious how they receive the doings of those who profess to be in connection with spirits of the other spheres; and to those who wish to inquire into the matter, we would say, go and hear, but try to keep your wits about you, and not swallow bodily either the preachers or their strange affirmations."--_horace greely._ "under an impression that whatever is communicated by a spirit must, of course, be true, many persons are receiving these communications as the truth of god--as a new revelation from the spirit world. but if these communications are from spirits, we have no proof that they are good spirits. the presumption is, that they are bad spirits--lying spirits. at my house they often accused each other of lying--contradicted at one time what they affirmed at another; inflicted injury upon property in the most wanton manner; and have given conclusive evidence throughout that the discipline of hell, which they profess to have experienced for several years, has not been wholly effectual in improving their characters, and qualifying them for the 'higher spheres' for which many suppose that the discipline after death is a preparation."--_dr. phelps._ "many of the doings of the rapping spirits are too nonsensical and absurd to be believed. they spoil all our notions of the dignity, the _spirituality_, of the spiritual world. that a messenger should come from the spirit land to tell an old woman that her black cat did eat another old woman's white rabbit, is not in accordance with the ideas most people have of the doings and missions of beings in the enjoyment of an immortal state."--_puritan recorder._ persons trained by a lecturer. we have been informed, by a certain mesmerizer, that a distinguished lecturer upon magnetism frequently trains persons to enact certain parts in his public exhibitions. he first puts them under mesmeric influence, and while in that state they are instructed to say certain things, or to perform certain acts, which he wishes to exhibit at some subsequent lecture. to this they severally agree, and thus a regular programme, or series of performances, is made out. they are then brought out of the mesmeric state, having been previously willed by the operator to forget all that has passed while in that state. at the next meeting appointed, these persons are present, and are again put into the same state as before, when they immediately perceive, and are ready to perform, the several parts assigned to them. in fact, they are so completely under the will and control of the lecturer, that they _must_ do or say _what he wills them to do or say_, and they cannot help it, neither can they have the least recollection of what has transpired, after being restored to the normal state. scene at east boston. we were present at a "circle," at the house of a _medium_ in east boston, on the th of april, . instead of that decorum and seriousness that might be expected while holding intercourse with departed spirits, we were surprised at the levity and sport indulged on the occasion. the spirits were laughed at, and scolded, because they made so many blunders in spelling out names, and were urged and coaxed to do better. a lady, who had buried a friend, was told that the name of the deceased was _hannah_. but she informed the medium that it was a _brother_ she had buried, and that she had never lost a _sister_. but the medium said it made no difference, as the spirits often gave the name of a sister for a brother, and sometimes a cousin for either, as they were all in the family connection, and all such dwelt together in the love circles. in spelling out the name of any deceased friend, you are presented with a card containing the alphabet, and are required to commence with the letter a, and go through the alphabet some one, two, or three times, touching each letter with a pencil as you pass over it. on touching some particular letter, a rap is given, indicating that it is the first letter of the name of your departed friend. and so of the other letters comprising the name. the spirits often made mistakes in rapping at the wrong letter, and were required to try again till they got the spelling right. we were very particular to observe that the spirit was sure to rap whenever the inquirer stopped or hesitated in passing over any letter. five or six would be eagerly watching the movement of your hand, and the least possible hesitation upon any one letter was sure to be accompanied with simultaneous raps. and as the inquirer was frequently cautioned to proceed slow, it was natural enough to hesitate on those letters comprising the name as it was spelled in their own mind. in this way the alphabet became an interpreter to the supposed spirits. we requested that some demonstrations should be given in the art of table lifting, but were told that the gentleman through whose agency the feat is performed was not present this evening. we inquired if it was necessary that any particular gentleman should be present that tables or chairs might be raised, and were told it was, and that the gentleman in question seemed to carry a large amount of electricity in a circle about his person. we have been informed by another person, who says he has, and often does, raise tables and other articles, by request of others, that he does it by controlling the vital electricity of individuals present at the time. he says he "_steals_" their vital electricity, and appropriates it to his own use, although those from whom he thus takes it are not conscious of the fact. the more persons there are in the room, the larger the amount of electricity obtained, and the greater the effects produced by it. there is nothing as yet performed by those alleged to be in connection with spirits but what he can successfully imitate, such as producing effects upon persons at a distance, imitating the handwriting of absent or deceased persons unknown to him causing persons to write music, poetry, &c., who, in a normal state, are incapable of doing either, as well as many other exploits, at the option or desire of those who are present; inquirers, oftentimes, in such cases, becoming the operators, transferring their own impressions, ideas, sentiments, and knowledge to the acting medium, and yet entirely ignorant of the fact, and astonished at the results produced. the gentleman referred to discards the agency of spirits in these transactions, and declares that the whole is done by the power of his own will in using and controlling the amount of electricity present at the time; thus proving that the mind or spirit in the body has as much power and control over electricity as the mind or spirit has _out_ of, or separate from, the body. and he is of the opinion that if scientific men would investigate the powers of electricity, and the laws by which it is controlled, they would no more think of attributing the phenomena of the times to the agency of _spirits_, than to the pope of rome. many engaged in producing these phenomena are themselves ignorant of the power or means by which they are produced, and therefore attribute them to _spiritual_ agency, which is, in fact, transferring the whole matter to a point beyond human investigation, where no mortal being can possibly explore. some seem to think that these modern developments must be the work of spirits, because, amid all the opposition arraigned against them, they still continue to progress, and are becoming more and more wonderful every day. yet the same argument is as conclusive and convincing in favor of mormonism, and other foolish and wicked extravagances, as it is in favor of the alleged spiritual manifestations. but while hundreds, and perhaps thousands, are marvelling at the strangeness of these developments, we find that several who have been engaged in them for months or years, and believed them to be emanations from the spirit world, now declare their convictions to the contrary, as will be seen by the following account from the pen of a distinguished writer, professor pond, of maine. extract from the puritan recorder. "the feats of the ancient jugglers were many of them mere acts of deception. they were known to be such by those who performed them. and the same is true of many who practise the like things now. their rappings and writings, and other strange performances, are secretly, artfully got up by themselves. i do not say that this is true in all cases; but in some cases we _know_ it is true; because the matter has been fully investigated, and public confession has been made. for example: a young woman, who had been instructed by the rochester rappers, and practised the art with them for a time, afterwards renounced it, and exposed the delusion to the world. 'all who saw her and heard her,' says my informant, 'were entirely satisfied of the truth of her statements, and that she had revealed the actual method in which the deception was effected and the deluded were blinded. another young woman in providence, almira beazely, who was noted for her rappings and revelations, and who murdered her brother to accomplish one of her own predictions, confessed, on her trial, that she made the noises herself, and explained the manner in which they were produced. she also confessed to the removal of certain articles in the house which had strangely disappeared, and which she pretended had been _taken away by spirits_. drs. lee and flint, of buffalo, assisted by two gentlemen by the name of burr, have very thoroughly investigated the matter, and explained the manner in which the mysterious noises are made. mr. burr has himself made the rappings, and made them so loud as to be heard by a congregation of fifteen hundred people. "these instances are sufficient to prove that the spiritual manifestations of our times, like those of ancient times, are in many instances a sheer deception--a vile trick, palmed off upon a wondering and credulous community, for the sake of money, or for other sinister and selfish ends. if there is any thing more than trick in these spiritual manifestations,--and i am inclined to think that, in some instances, there may be,--i should refer it, as in case of the ancient wizards, to the influence of _occult natural causes_--perhaps electricity, or animal magnetism, or something else, operating upon a nervous system of peculiar sensibility. i incline to this opinion for several reasons. "in the first place, if the noises and other manifestations were really the work of spirits, why should they not be made through one person, as well as another? why should not all mediums be alike? whereas it is confessed that only persons of a peculiar nervous temperament are capable of becoming mediums. "again: if the disclosures which are made are really from the spirit world, it might be expected that they would, at least, be _consistent with themselves_. whereas it is well known that they vary endlessly. in numerous instances, they are directly self-contradictory. 'some of the communications,' says one who had been a medium, 'were orthodox; others were infidel. some would acknowledge the truth of the bible; others would condemn it. some would be in favor of virtue; others would encourage the grossest crimes.' "another man, who had been a noted medium, but who was beginning to get his eyes opened as to the character of the proceedings, told his audience one night, 'now, any one present ask a series of questions, and i pledge myself that the answer shall be, every time, yes.' some one in the company asked, 'is john thompson alive?' the answer was, 'yes.' 'is john thompson dead?' 'yes.' 'does john thompson live in vermont?' 'yes.' 'does he live in massachusetts?' 'yes.' and so the spirits went on contradicting themselves times without number. after this, a like series of questions were answered in the negative, exhibiting the most glaring contradictions, just as the operator pleased. "but this brings me to another reason for supposing that the answers are not from departed spirits, but rather from the _mind of the operator_, or from _some other mind in communication with his_, under the influence of an electric or magnetic cause. it is an admitted fact that these answers coincide very generally with the opinions or wishes of the medium, or of some one present in consultation with him. i knew a very respectable man, who discovered that he was a medium, and who practised various experiments upon himself. upon being asked what he thought of it, he replied, 'if the answers are from the spirits, they must be _very silly spirits_; for they always answer just as i wish to have them.' another medium informs us that he can obtain any answer he pleases, by fixing his mind strongly upon it at the time. now, does this look as though the answer came from spirits? if the spirits of the dead spoke, they would be likely to speak out independently; to speak just what _they_ thought, and not what those thought with whom they were consulting. "there is another circumstance to be noted in this connection. when the requisite preparation is made, there is no need of consulting the spirits at all, in order to secure answers. you may consult with the chairs or the table just as well. this experiment was tried, not long since, at wilmington, vermont. a mr. kellogg was the medium, and he had succeeded in consulting the spirits to the satisfaction of all concerned. at length he remarked that he was about to let the company into an important secret. 'we will interrogate the _table_,' said he, 'and have nothing more to do with spirits.' he did so; and the _table talked and answered, just as the spirits had done before_. at the same time the table was made to stand on one leg, and to move about, as is usual in such cases. this experiment demonstrated, to the satisfaction of all present, that the strange appearances could be produced just as well without the spirits as with them. 'the calling for spirits,' to use the language of my informant, 'is mere garnish and fog, by which the real agency in the case is concealed.' "on the point now under consideration, viz., the possibly _electric_ character of these manifestations, i am happy to introduce the testimony of dr. samuel taylor, a respectable physician of petersham, massachusetts, whose article on the subject may be found in a late number of the boston medical and surgical journal. dr. taylor discovered accidentally that he was a medium, and he proceeded to make experiments upon himself. the manifestation, in his case, was not by rapping, but by writing--a much more convenient mode of communicating with the spirit world. on taking his pen, and holding himself in a peculiar attitude, and proposing mentally some question to the spirits, his pen would begin to oscillate in his fingers, and very soon would write out an answer; and this without any voluntary effort of his own. and what is particularly to be noticed is, the pen would always write an answer which accorded with his own opinion or wishes, that is, if he had any wish on the subject. for example: dr. taylor inquired of one of the spirits about the different forms of religion. 'i asked which was the best religion, at the same time fixing my mind sternly on the word _protestant_. my hand immediately wrote _protestant_. in the same manner, and _by direction of the same spirit_, my hand wrote successively, _methodist_, _unitarian_, and i believe one or two others. while in this state,' dr. taylor says, '_i felt a sensation like that of a light galvanic current passing through me_. sometimes it appeared to be a steady thrill, and sometimes it was intermittent, resembling light shocks of electricity.' "after numerous experiments, dr. taylor comes to the conclusion, that the strange phenomena of which he was the subject were not tricks of his own, neither did they come from the spirit world, but were the result of what he calls _detached vitalized electricity_. when this conclusion had been formed in his own mind, it occurred to him that he would put it to the test of the spirits themselves. 'accordingly i asked them,' says he, 'if this was the work of departed spirits. the answer was, "no." i asked if it was the work of the devil. again the answer was, "no." i asked if it was the effect of _detached vitalized electricity_. the answer was, "yes."' so the spirits _confirmed_ the conclusion to which the doctor had come, as they did, in fact, all his conclusions. "we have the testimony of another medium, of the same import with that of dr. taylor. mr. benjamin f. cooley, who had long been a believer and operator in the spiritual rappings, states that his mind is now entirely changed. this change was brought about in consequence of 'a deep and earnest study of the nature, power, and application of electricity, and of the susceptibility of the mind to electrical or psychological changes.' these things, he says, will produce the same mysterious and startling phenomena which have been produced throughout the country, and attributed to the operations of departed spirits. (mr. cooley has recently published a work entitled an exposition of spiritual manifestations, to which we would refer the reader.) "a part of what is done by those who claim to have familiar spirits, may be the result of unknown _natural causes_. this is the most plausible and excusable view which can possibly be taken of these practices; and yet, even in this view, they are frightfully evil. the persons who alone are susceptible to the influence of these natural causes are generally those of a diseased or delicate nervous temperament; and the effect of experimenting upon their nervous system is usually to shatter it the more. they become excitable, fantastic, and often insane. diseases are engendered, both of body and mind, which lead on to the most fearful consequences. but a short time ago, the papers gave an account of a man in barre, massachusetts, who had been much given to the rappings and other spiritual manifestations, who became, in consequence, a raving maniac, threatening the life of his family, and was committed to the lunatic asylum at worcester. other like instances are occurring frequently, from the same cause. almira beazely, the providence rapper, who murdered her brother in fulfilment of one of her own predictions, was cleared on the ground of her insanity. "but this is not the only evil of the practices in question, when viewed as the result of natural causes. for the truth is, that, in most cases, they are _not so viewed_ by those who engage in them. _they_ regard them as the work of spirits. they are, therefore, deceived; and those who follow them are deceived. both suppose they are receiving utterances from the other world, when nothing is uttered but vain fantasies from their own minds and hearts. such a deception is, manifestly, a hurtful one. it is full of danger to all concerned. to mistake one's own fancies for divine revelation, and feel conscience-bound to obey them as such, is the very essence of _fanaticism_. it is fanaticism in its most frightful form. under the influence of such an impression, persons may be led to perpetrate the greatest cruelties, and the most horrid crimes, and vainly think that they are doing god service. the wretched man in barre was led to attempt the life of his family, in obedience to a supposed revelation from the spirit world. "the practices which have been considered are of heathen origin. they originated with the ancient heathen; they were spread over a greater part of the heathen world; and they continue to pervade and curse it to the present time. among numerous heathen tribes at the present day, scarcely a calamity occurs--a death, a flood, a fit of sickness, or an instance of death--but some poor creature (and often more than one) is accused and put to death, as being the cause of it. 'the sick man is bewitched: who has bewitched him? his death (if he chance to die) has been brought about by evil spirits: who has sent the spirits upon him?' to get an answer to these questions, some old hag or conjurer is consulted; the cause of the mischief is quickly discovered, and an innocent person is put to death. probably hundreds die every year after this manner, among the heathen, _even in this nineteenth century_! and the case would soon be no better among ourselves, if we were to go, extensively and _confidently_, into the practice of consulting with familiar spirits. the spirits would unravel all mysteries for us; they would reveal all secrets; and not a man, woman, or child would long be safe from their malicious accusations. "something more than a year ago, the lunatic asylum in maine took fire, and a portion of its inmates were smothered and consumed. and there are hundreds of persons now in the state, who affirm that the building was set on fire by the keepers, with a view to cover up and conceal their own wickedness. these persons _know_ it was so; they have not the shadow of a doubt on the subject. why? not that they have a particle of evidence to this effect from our world, but because the spirits have so informed them. now, let these utterances become common, and be commonly received, and in three months' time those keepers might every one of them be dragged to the gallows, or the stake, while they were as innocent of the charge laid against them as a child unborn. "i refer to this instance just to show the sin, the evil, the exceeding peril, of indulging in those practices which have been exposed. let all those who read these things, then, beware of them and shun them. if any of us are capable of becoming _mediums_, as they are called, we had better not know it; or, if we know it, we had better refrain from all experiments. to tamper with such a power is to tamper with an already shattered nervous system, the only effect of which will be to shatter it the more. "there is nothing more striking than the difference between those representations of the future world which are made known in the bible, and which we know are true, and those which are put forth by the revealers of our own times. the former are solemn, exciting, impressive, some of them awfully so, others gloriously. while the latter, as professor stowe says, are 'so uniformly and monotonously silly, that we are compelled to think, if these are really the spirits of the dead, in dying they must have lost what little of common sense they ever possessed. if these are actual specimens of the spiritual world, then this world, hard and imperfect as it is, is altogether the most respectable part of god's creation.' "in the bible, we have frequent accounts of persons who were raised from the dead--who actually returned from the spirit world to this. but they returned uniformly with sealed lips. in not a single instance did they make any disclosures. but our modern revealers pursue a very different course. they practise no reserve. they go into the minutest particulars,--sometimes into the most disgusting details,--and publish, as one expresses it, 'a penny magazine of the spiritual world.'" in the language of the puritan recorder, "the worst of the evil is the soul-hardening familiarity they produce with the most awful subjects ever offered for human contemplation. we know of nothing in human experience so fatally destructive of all that reverence for the spiritual, that awe of the unseen, that tender emotion, as well as solemn interest, which connect themselves with the idea of the other life. who, that has a christian heart, would not prefer the silence of the grave to the thought of the dear departed one in the midst of such imaginings, and such scenic associations as are usually connected with the performances of the spirit rappers? 'they are not dead, but _sleep_.' 'they enter into _peace_,' says the prophet. and then the precious and consoling addition--'they sleep in jesus;' meaning, beyond all doubt, a state of rest, of calmness, of security, of undisturbed and beatific vision--far removed from all resemblance to this bustling life--a state in all respects the opposite of that which fancy pictures as belonging to the scenes presented in the manifestations of spiritual rappings, and spiritual table liftings and all those spiritual pantomimes, which seem to be becoming more and more extravagant and grotesque in proportion to the infidel credulity with which they are received." should any think, by reading what we have offered upon this subject in the preceding pages, that we have imputed guilt and deception to mediums, who are believed to be, many of them, above such trickery, we would merely refer such to page of the reply of veriphilos credens to the communications supposed to have been written by dr. enoch pond, professor in the bangor seminary, as published in the columns of the puritan recorder. the reviewer says, "to suppose that mediums could practise deception on men of shrewdness and caution implies a greater credulity than does a faith in the most startling of their performances." "there is not the slightest degree of evidence," says this writer, "that such a case has ever occurred;" and yet on the selfsame page he says, "_there is no doubt that some mediums, when the sounds and motions have failed to come in the usual mysterious way, have counterfeited them by some sly motions of their feet and hands. i have seen such things done, in some instances!_" the same author says, page , "i have not attempted to justify any reliance on disclosures made to us in the way of rappings. i think it _altogether_ unsafe to do so, for the declaration has already come to us, from what purports to be the spirits themselves, that _all these manifestations are of a low order_, and are produced by the _lowest grade of spirits_." as to the plea that "spirits _must_ make the sounds," to account for the _intelligence_ communicated, it being impossible for mere "_electricity_ to originate facts," we reply by affirming that there is no intelligence given beyond a certain limit; i.e., the mind of some one or ones in connection, either present or absent, for it makes no difference. for available purposes, a person a thousand or ten thousand miles distant may yield all the amount of intelligence required in a given case. distance is no obstacle whatever. electricity counts neither time nor space. for instance, the transmission of electricity through a conducting substance is instantaneous. a wire, or other conductor, may have motion communicated to its whole length at the same moment, whatever that length may be; and it is stated that an electro-magnetic impulse may be transmitted at the rate of one hundred and eighty thousand miles in a second, thus outstripping the sun in its march! a large number of intelligent individuals, who, for a year or two past, have instituted a series of experiments upon this matter of "intelligence," have found that in no case has information been imparted beyond what existed in their own minds or that of some kindred or friend. finding this to be the case, they have wisely come to the conclusion that spirits have never originated a solitary idea; that is, _disembodied spirits_; and as to the spirit within a man, in his corporeal state, why cannot it command as much influence over vital electricity as in its disembodied existence? since both parties claim to perform by the same agent, and both claim this agent to be that of _vital electricity_, we have also come to the same conclusion, with a host of others, that the "calling for spirits is mere garnish and fog, by which the real agency in the case is concealed." extract from the home journal. "a considerable heap of books, pamphlets, and periodicals, some against, but most of them for, the 'spiritual phenomena,' has been accumulating upon our table, and now looms up large before us, demanding notice. that departed spirits have any thing to do with them is an explanation that we have never been able to accept for one moment. we should as soon think of asserting that an apple, rolling suddenly at our feet, must necessarily have fallen out of heaven, because we could not see the tree it had blown from. to bring such an astounding theory to explain such trivial phenomena is like sending a frigate to pick up a champagne bottle that might be floating down the bay. "by some of the works before us we are informed, among many other things, that in the other world every man has his name upon his front door; that swedenborg is a great man, delivers lectures, and _has a street named after him_; that in heaven parties, concerts, and _converzationes_ are frequent; that at some of the concerts, star singers of great celebrity perform, attracting inconceivable multitudes of spirits to hear them; that children take lessons in french and italian every morning; that the space allotted to some of the spirits is as large as new york; that the 'seventh sphere' (the highest heaven) is about five thousand miles from the earth; that the beds are of roses, and when the spirits recline upon them, the birds sing joyfully around, and mingle their music with the perfume of the flowers; that the celestials (not the chinese) wear white robes, edged with pink; that a man generally attends his own funeral; that spirits, on their arrival in heaven, are set to studying geology, chemistry, and other dull subjects, which they soon begin to like, and say their daily lessons with an excellent grace; that parchment is in extensive use; that spirits are allowed to visit 'earth' once a day only, and have the privilege of staying one hour; that they have books, rings, newspapers, robin redbreasts, fruit, lakes, streams, diamonds, and drawing masters in the next world. 'dora's dress,' says one of the revelations, 'was of blue satin, with a white sash; half sleeves, full; a pink velvet ribbon round her throat, fastened by a cameo. her hair was in curls each side of her face, and fastened in a knot behind.' dora, be it observed, is a departed _spirit_. "if it could be shown that all these things were really revealed, as they are said to be, we should still think them unworthy of notice. the greater part of the 'supernal theology' is utterly frivolous; and whether frivolous or not, it bears very plainly the impress of the medium's own mind, or of the unknown desires of those by whom he is surrounded. if we were called upon to minister to a mind diseased, or to find pabulum for a soul hungering after moral excellence, we should as soon think of offering a copy of the arabian nights' entertainments as a book of the 'supernal theology.' for the practical guidance of life, there is more help in any two maxims of the sermon on the mount, than in the whole literature of supernaturalism. "the manifestation mania would have died away long since but for one unfortunate circumstance. we have in our land a large number of men who may be termed semi-clergymen, or, as they are frequently called, 'outsiders,' or 'come-outers.' these are they who, either because they know too much or because they know too little, or from superfluity of naughtiness or redundancy of virtue, find it difficult to obtain a 'settlement.' these are the men who foster delusions; who, because they cannot find a way to _serve_ the public, are reduced to _prey_ upon it. they embrace the new light--whatever it may be--with a degree of sincerity, and commit themselves to it; then they push it, stimulate it, make a business of it, and live by it. o the multitude of spiritual delusions that in every age of the world have originated and derived their strength solely from the fact that the bodily necessities of certain individuals depended upon their perpetuity! that, at this moment, there are men most diligently engaged in the new spiritual line, for the purpose of securing by it a reprieve from starvation, (or work,) is a fact which we do not merely believe, but _know_." foretelling future events. many devices have been resorted to in order to foretell the events of the future. some pretend to do it by cards; some by the settlings of a tea or coffee cup; some by astrology; some by tables of letters and figures; some by the lines of the hand; and some by spirits of the dead. strenuous advocates of these various modes are found, who recount the wonderful predictions that have taken place. some spirit hunter recently prognosticated that the ship staffordshire (reported to be lost) would arrive safe at san francisco on a certain day, as she did. professor anderson had a glass bell at the melodeon, in boston, in september, , that answered questions pertaining to future events. in deciding upon who would be the next president, it gave six distinct taps for pierce--the number agreed upon if he was to be the successful competitor. this was done without any aid from spirits. we very much doubt whether robach or lester would refuse a challenge from a. j. davis himself, to test their respective claims to correct predictions. yet we do not believe that any reliance can be placed upon the prophecies of either party. events may sometimes transpire in accordance with their predictions; and it would be strange if they did not, as they are always predicting, and events are ever occurring. but they never think of naming the multiplicity of failures that take place. not long since, the spirits said that a distant friend would never live to reach home; but he soon after arrived, safe and well. mr. lester told a young man of woburn that in two years he would marry a certain young lady; but in two months he was a corpse. hundreds of such failures are constantly occurring, but are kept out of sight. if generally known, they would spoil the trade. we are surprised that men professing to high attainments, as a. j. davis and some of his coadjutors, should fall back and plant themselves upon such stale trash. some two years since, while lying apparently near our end, a lady suggested to us that, if we desired, she would consult mr. lester upon the probability of our recovery. we declined the offer, choosing to leave all with the sovereign disposer of events, believing that he would permit nothing to take place but what would be for our best good, and that of all concerned. "heaven from all creatures hides the book of fate, all but the page prescribed--their _present state_; from brutes what men, from men what angels know; or who could suffer being here below? the lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day, had he thy reason, would he skip and play? pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food, and licks the hand just raised to shed his blood. o, blindness to the future! kindly given, that each may fill the circle marked by heaven. _hope humbly then_; with trembling pinions soar; wait the great teacher death, and god adore! what future bliss he gives not thee to know, but gives _that hope_ to be thy _blessing now_."--pope. visions, miracles, and wonders. the writings of the spirit rappers abound with accounts of sights, sounds, visions, and wonders. we are forcibly reminded of a similar display in the writings of the adventists, previous to the predicted end of the world in --an overwhelming array of facts, calculations, signs, visions, wonders, miracles, maps, pictures, drawings, and hieroglyphics, all going to show, in the most positive manner, that in that year the world would be annihilated. and still it remains; and the works containing the omens and facts to substantiate the prediction are called to share the fate of a farmer's almanac quite out of date. some few still hold on to a semblance of the theory, like him who, in the spring of , declared that a talking cow, somewhere in maine, had prophesied that the world would be burned up the following june. how lamentable to view the numbers of men and women who have given heed to such things, when assured that the day and the hour is not known even by the son himself. (matt. xxiv. .) many of these persons were once active in the church, and exerted an influence for good; but by remaining in their present position, their influence in the cause of christ is palsied, and their, talents buried in the earth. and yet we have propounded to us another "new church," which, according to the predictions of its adherents, is destined to destroy all other churches, as it _was to be_, according to the predictions of miller, fitch, himes, and others. in conclusion upon these things, we would add, that it has been our belief from the first, that there is nothing supernatural in the so-called _spiritual manifestations_. they all bear the marks of _earthly_ origin. the public not knowing how to explain them, the first rappings were attributed to the "spirits;" and the idea having been set afloat, it has been adopted without investigation, being the easiest way of accounting for it. to the common mind, three hundred years ago, it was plain and easy, that the world was _flat_, and rested on something--on the _back of atlas_, and he stood on a _tortoise_, and the tortoise again on _something_; and the fact that nobody could tell what, was not allowed to stumble any one; it rested on a _foundation_, and that was enough for any one to know or believe. motion, space, attraction, and repulsion were not understood, and galileo came near losing his life, and did lose his personal liberty and character, for intelligence. when the world is as fully instructed in certain principles connected with our existence as it is in the laws of the physical universe, the "rappings," we think, will cease to be a wonder. clairvoyant physicians. persons in a clairvoyant state, by being put in connection with a diseased person, feel, by sympathy, the pain and disease of the patient. but to be qualified to describe the locality of the disease, or be able to tell what organ or part is affected, the practitioner must first have studied anatomy and physiology. the more perfect they are in these branches, the more accurately can they describe the seat of the disease. their remedies are mostly botanical, and are generally safe in their operation. the _regular_ "clairvoyant physician," so to speak, does not pretend to be in league with "spirits;" but there _are_ those who profess that their prescriptions come from the other world--from those who, though dead, rest _not_ from their labors. notwithstanding the extreme simplicity of their remedies, such as any common nurse would advise, yet such is the profound sanctity and mystery thrown around them by an _unseen spirit_, that some profess to have received "wonderful healing mercies." to _believe_ that a medicine (however simple) is prescribed by a _spirit_ from above, is enough to perform a cure in any case. imagination alone is equal to the task. a very eminent allopathic physician informs us that he often rolls up brown bread pills, which, in certain cases, perform unmistakable cures. in fact, history is full of recoveries wrought out by aid of the imagination. we will subjoin a case by way of illustration. "sir humphrey davy, on one occasion in early life, was assisting dr. beddoes in his experiments on the inhalation of nitrous oxide. dr. beddoes having inferred that this agent must be a specific for palsy, a patient was selected for trial, and placed under the care of davy. previously to administering the gas, davy inserted a small thermometer under the tongue of the patient, to ascertain the temperature. the paralytic man, wholly ignorant of the process to which he was to submit, but deeply impressed by dr. beddoes with the certainty of its success, no sooner felt the thermometer between his teeth, than he concluded the talisman was in operation, and in a burst of enthusiasm declared that he had already experienced the effects of its benign influence throughout his whole body. the opportunity was too tempting to be lost. davy did nothing more, but desired his patient to return on the following day. the same ceremony was repeated, the same result followed; and at _the end of a fortnight he was dismissed wholly cured_; no remedy of any kind, except the thermometer, having ever been used." style of "supernal" compositions. in the "supernal" productions we are presented with a pedantic display of high-sounding words and phrases. to use the language of inspiration, "they speak great swelling words of vanity." a work has recently been announced with this imposing title: "macrocosm and microcosm," containing, among other things, "_the potential media_," "_the diastole and systole of nature_." a writer in the spiritual telegraph, of october , says, "there are very many fancy-captivating, and depravity-flattering publications--some of them filled with indications, the most specious and subtle, of a refined _atheism_. and i have seen a copy or two of a certain 'journal,' ostensibly advocating the great truths (?) of spiritual manifestations, but containing some articles in which there was a congregation of words _superlatively unmeaning and transcendentally ridiculous_." the same writer says, "i do not believe one half the communications which are said to come from george washington, benjamin franklin, henry clay, john c. calhoun, john wesley, and a host of other great names. what affinity can these spirits have with many of the thoughtless, light, and trifling circles, formed to pass off an hour, and perhaps ending with foolish mountebank scenes of psychology, falsely so called?" davis, in his great harmonia, page , exposes a class of "mercenary practitioners, who claim extraordinary or supernatural powers for their subjects, _who give public and vulgar exhibitions, who employ chicanery and ignorant plans, who trifle with and play fantastic tricks with their subjects_." he speaks of a class of "doctrinal practitioners, who prevert and misinterpret principles and results; who labor to make the phenomena subservient to, and illustrative of, the theological dogmas; who receive, modify, or reject, as a sectarian education and prejudice may sanction; who conceal, misstate, and magnify disclosures." enough, in all conscience, to condemn the whole farce. mysterious phenomena, with their agents or causes. a work has recently been issued in boston, by e. c. rogers, containing an exposition of mysterious agents, and dynamic laws, or science of moving powers. it is a very valuable work, and, with his consent, we shall take the liberty of introducing some of the principal facts adduced; and at the same time would advise every inquirer to purchase the work for himself, which he will never have cause to regret. on page , the author says, "light and heat have always been known as agents by the common sensation of their more palpable phenomena. but electricity and magnetism were not known until their phenomena were specially observed. many of the facts of these agents, before the latter had become known, were referred to spiritual agencies. it is the tendency of ignorance, in every age, to do the same thing. reason demands an agent adequate to the production of every phenomenon. if she has not been furnished with sufficient data by which to arrive at a correct conclusion, imagination, influenced by a blind marvellousness, will refer the phenomena to some supernatural cause. hence the early superstitions about chemical operations, the appearance of comets, eclipses, meteors, the 'bog lights,' and a thousand other phenomena. but as the agencies of nature have become known, and their laws and conditions of action discovered, the domination of superstition has given place to the triumph of reason and the reign of truth." "reason determines that, for every phenomenon, there is an agent; but never, without sufficient data, does she determine what that agent is. the imagination often assumes this prerogative, and gives conclusions without _facts_, or furnishes the false data from which the logical faculty draws false principles. we mention these things to show how easy it is to be deceived, by our imaginations, with regard to the causes of outward phenomena, and that the only legitimate and trustworthy process in arriving at a solution of the mysteries of nature is, to furnish the reason with _facts_, and exclude the influence of imagination. a blind precipitation of faith is also a fatal influence to all correct reasoning; for it rouses the action of the imagination, and long before the reason can possibly give a correct deduction, credulity and imagination have conjured one up; and this will be the more insisted upon as the only correct conclusion, as it is the least possessed of the real truth and the action of reason. hence it is that those persons who are most ignorant of the principles of nature are the more positive and precipitate in their decisions upon any question of mystery. they _know_ that there is no natural explanation, and the man is a fool who _attempts_ to find one." (page .) the first case we shall quote from the above work occurred in woodbridge, new jersey, and was published at the time in the newark daily advertiser. the phenomena made their appearance in the family of mr. j. barron, consisting, for the most part, of unusual sounds accompanying a servant girl. "the first sounds were those of a _loud thumping_, apparently against the side of the house, which commenced one evening, when the family had retired, and continued at short intervals until daylight, when it ceased. "the next evening it commenced at nightfall, when it was ascertained to be mysteriously connected with the movements of a servant girl in the family--a white girl, about fourteen years of age. while passing a window, on the stairs, for example, a _sudden jar_, accompanied with an _explosive sound, broke a pane of glass_, the girl at the same time being seized with a violent spasm. this, of course, very much alarmed her; and the physician, dr. drake, was sent for, who came and bled her. the bleeding, however, produced no apparent effect. the noise still continued, as before, at intervals, wherever the girl went, each sound producing more or less of a spasm; and the physician, with all the family, remained up during the night. at daylight the _thumping_ ceased again. in the evening the same thing was repeated, commencing a little earlier than before; and so every evening since, continuing each night until morning, and commencing each night a little earlier than before, until yesterday, when the thumping began about twelve o'clock at noon. the circumstances were soon generally spread through the neighborhood, and produced so much excitement that the house was filled, and surrounded from sunrise to sunset, for nearly a week. every imaginable means were resorted to, in order to unravel the phenomenon. at one time the girl would be removed from one apartment to another, but without effect. wherever she was placed, at certain intervals, the thumping would be heard in the room. she was taken to a neighboring house. the same result followed. when carried out of doors, however, no noise was heard. dr. drake, who was constant in his attendance during the whole period, occasionally aided by other scientific observers, was with us last evening for two hours, when we were politely allowed a variety of experiments with the girl, in addition to those heretofore tried, to satisfy ourselves that there is no imposition in the case, and, if possible, to discover the secret agent of the mystery. the girl was in an upper room, with a part of the family, when we reached the house. the noise then resembled that which would be produced by a person violently thumping the upper floor with the head of an axe, five or six times in succession, jarring the house, ceasing a few minutes, and then resuming as before. we were soon introduced into the apartment, and permitted to observe for ourselves. the girl appeared to be in perfect health, cheerful, and free from the spasms felt at first, and entirely relieved from every thing like the fear or apprehension which she manifested for some days. the invisible noise, however, continued to occur as before, though somewhat diminished in frequency, while we were in the room. in order to ascertain more satisfactorily that she did not produce it voluntarily, among other experiments we placed her on a chair on a blanket in the centre of the room, bandaged the chair with a cloth, fastening her feet on the front round, and confining her hands together on her lap. no change, however, was produced. the thumping continued as before, excepting that it was not quite so loud. the noise resembled that which would be produced by stamping on the floor with a heavy heel; yet she did not move a limb or muscle, that we could discover. she remained in this position long enough to satisfy all in the room that the girl exercised, voluntarily, no sort of agency in producing the noise. it was observed that the noise became greater the farther she was removed from any other person. we placed her in the doorway of a closet in the room, the door being ajar, to allow her to stand in the passage. in less than one minute the door flew open, as if violently struck with a mallet, accompanied with precisely such a noise as such a thump would produce. this was repeated several times, with the same effect. in short, in whatever position she was placed, whether in or out of the room, similar results, varied a little perhaps by circumstances, were produced. there is certainly no deception in the case. the noise was heard at least one hundred yards from the house." "in this case, no suspicions were entertained by the investigators that there was any supernatural or spiritual power manifested, as there was no manifestations of intelligence. they were purely physical phenomena." the next case we shall notice we copy from the spiritual telegraph of july , , taken from an old new york paper, dated march , . the extract is as follows:-- "sir: were i to relate the many extraordinary, though not less true accounts i have heard concerning that unfortunate girl at new hackensack, your belief might perhaps be staggered and patience tired. i shall therefore only inform you of what i have been an eye-witness to. last sunday afternoon my wife and myself went to dr. thorn's, and after sitting for some time, we heard a knocking under the feet of a young woman that lives in the family; i asked the doctor what occasioned the noise: he could not tell, but replied, that he, together with several others, had examined the house, but were unable to discover the cause. i then took a candle and went with the girl into the cellar: there the knocking also continued; but as we were ascending the stairs to return, i heard a _prodigious rapping_ on each side, which alarmed me very much. i stood still some time, looking around with amazement, when i beheld some lumber, which lay at the head of the stairs, shake considerably. about eight or ten days after, we visited the girl again: the knocking was again heard, but much louder than before. our curiosity induced us to pay the third visit, when the phenomena were still more alarming. _i then saw the chairs move; a large dining table was thrown against me, and a small stand, on which stood a candle, was tossed up and thrown into my wife's lap_; after which we left the house, much surprised at what we had seen." "catharine crowe, in her night side of nature, mentions several well-authenticated cases of this character, and other writers have noticed the same phenomena. a case is given on the th page of miss crowe's work--that of a young officer in the english army, who, wherever he went, whether in camp or at home, or among strangers, was liable to be tormented with these _noises at night_. although they gave no particular marks of intelligence, yet they were regarded by his relatives with an abundance of superstition. they considered him "haunted." "when these sounds commenced, he would sit up in bed, and express his anger in strong execrations. if a cage bird was in his room, it was certain to be found dead in the morning; or if he kept a dog in the apartment, it would make away from him as soon as released, and never come near him again." "the phenomena in dr. phelps's case, already mentioned in this volume, consisted in the moving of articles of furniture in a manner that could not be accounted for. knives, forks, spoons, nails, blocks of wood, &c., were thrown in different directions about the house, when there appeared no visible power by which the motion could have been produced. a writer in the new haven journal and courier testifies, that while he was present, "the contents of the pantry were emptied into the kitchen, and bags of salt, tin ware, and heavy cooking utensils were thrown in a promiscuous heap upon the floor, with a loud and startling noise. loaves of delicious cake were scattered about the house. the large knocker of the outside door would thunder its fearful tones through the loud-resounding hall, chairs would deliberately move across the room, heavy marble-top tables would poise themselves upon two legs, and then fall with their contents to the floor--no person being within six feet of them." "on the st of october, , mrs. phelps and her two children left home for pennsylvania: with this the phenomena ceased. the doctor remained at his house five weeks after, without disturbance. it was ascertained that these and other manifestations were less frequent and feebler when but one of the children was in the house; and that they were more frequent in connection with the lad, (one of the above children,) eleven years of age. these children had frequently been mesmerized into the trance state by their father; and one of them was subject to spontaneous trance, and at one time was found in the barn in a cataleptic state. since the return of the doctor's family, in the spring of , he has kept the two children separate, the boy being away, lest his presence would occasion a recurrence of the same phenomena. simultaneous with the phenomena, the boy would frequently start while asleep in bed. analogous to the above are the wonderful occurrences which took place at stockwell, england, in january, , as related in the work entitled night side of nature, page . we shall only give the most important particulars of the case, leaving the reader to consult the work itself." "on monday, january , , about ten o'clock in the forenoon, as mrs. golding (the hostess) was in the parlor, she heard the china and glasses in the kitchen tumble down and break; her maid came to her, and told her the stone plates were falling from the shelf; mrs. golding went into the kitchen, and saw them broken. presently after, a row of plates from the next shelf fell down likewise, while she was there, and nobody near them: this astonished her much, and while she was thinking about it, other things in different places began to tumble about, some of them breaking, attended with violent noises all over the house; a clock tumbled down, and the case broke." the destruction increased with the wonder and terror of mrs. golding. wherever she went, accompanied by the servant girl, this dreadful waste of property followed. mrs. golding, in her terror, fled to a neighbor's, where she immediately fainted. a surgeon was called, and she was bled. the blood, which had hardly congested, was seen all at once to spring out of the basin upon the floor, and presently after, the basin burst to pieces, and a bottle of rum, that stood by it, broke at the same time. mrs. golding went to a second neighbor's, as the articles she had conveyed to the first were being destroyed. and while the maid remained at the first neighbor's, mrs. golding was not disturbed; but when putting up what few things remained unbroken of her mistress's in a back apartment, a jar of pickles, that stood upon a table, turned upside down, and other things were broken to pieces. meantime the disturbances had ceased at mrs. golding's house, and but little occurred at the neighbors', while mrs. golding and her servant remained apart. but as soon as they came into each other's company, the disturbance would begin again. about five o'clock on tuesday morning, mrs. golding went to the chamber of her niece, and desired her to get up, as the noises and destruction were so great she could continue in the house no longer: at this time, all the tables, chairs, drawers, &c., were tumbling about. in consequence of this resolution, mrs. golding and her maid went over the way to richard fowler's. the maid returned to mrs. pain's, to help this lady dress her children. at this time all was quiet. they then repaired to fowler's, and then began the same scenes as had happened at the other places. it must be remarked that all was quiet here as well as elsewhere, till the maid returned. when they reached mr. fowler's, he began to light a fire in his back room. when done, he put the candlestick upon the table in the fore room. this apartment mrs. golding and her maid had just passed through. this candlestick, and another with a tin lamp in it, that stood by it, were dashed together, and fell to the ground. a lantern, with which mrs. golding had been lighted across the road, sprang from a hook to the ground. a basket of coals tumbled over, and the coals rolled about the room. mrs. golding and her servant now returned home, when similar scenes were repeated. mr. pain then desired mrs. golding to send her maid for his wife to come to them. when she was gone all was quiet. when she returned she was immediately discharged, and no disturbances happened afterwards." "the account gives us the following particulars, namely: that the phenomena always depended upon the presence of the servant maid, and that they always occurred with the greatest energy when the mistress was in the company of the maid; also that, when the maid passed through a room alone, there would be little or no disturbance of its contents, but if she was soon after followed by mrs. golding, various articles would begin to play the most singular pranks. very often one article would be attracted by another, or they would fly towards each other, and striking together, fall upon the floor as if both had been charged with some physical agent which made them act like opposite poles. then, also, they would fly _from_ one another, as by _repulsive_ forces. every thing which mrs. golding had touched seems to have been in some way affected, so that afterwards, on the approach of the maid, it would be broken to atoms, sometimes, even, without her touch. the blood of mrs. golding was highly susceptible under the same circumstances, and the bowl in which it was contained and the glass ware standing by it burst to pieces." "in the year , a suit was brought before the sheriff of edinburgh, scotland, for the recovery of damages suffered in a certain house owned by a mr. webster. captain molesworth was the defendant at the trial." (see night side of nature, page .) the following facts were developed: mr. molesworth had seriously damaged the house both as to substance and reputation. _first._ by sundry holes which he cut in the walls, tearing up the floors, &c., to discover the cause of certain noises which tormented himself and family. _second._ by the bad name he had given the house, stating that it was haunted. witnesses for the defendant were sheriff's officers, justices of the peace, and officers of the regiment quartered near; all of whom had been at the said house sundry times to aid captain molesworth detect the invisible cause of so much disturbance. the disturbance consisted in certain noises, such as knockings, pounding, scratching sounds, rustlings in different parts of a particular room; sometimes, however, in other parts of the house. certain boards of the floor would seem to be at times infected with the noises; then certain points in the walls, at which mr. molesworth would point his gun, or cut into with an axe, all to no purpose. the bed on which a young girl, aged thirteen years, had been confined by disease, would very often be raised above the floor, as if a sudden force was applied beneath it, which would greatly alarm her and the whole family, and cause the greatest perplexity. the concussions which were often produced on the walls would cause them visibly to tremble. the force that produced these results was soon discovered to be in some strange way connected with this invalid, and wherever the young invalid was moved this force accompanied her." "it is plainly exhibited, in the cases just given, that no characteristics of spiritual agency are exhibited, but those, on the contrary, of a mere physical power, associated with the organism of certain persons. "we have not," says mr. rogers, "the least possible evidence that any spirit, demoniacal or angelic, had any hand in performing the wild antics among crockery and furniture which we have seen performed in the accounts given. for it is admitted that a spiritual agent is an intelligent agent. its characteristics are those of intelligence, as every one admits. wherever, therefore, these characteristics are wanting in a class of phenomena, it is blindly absurd, greatly superstitious, even to draw the inference that they are spiritual phenomena. but what shall be said when it is asserted as a veritable certainty, and the crowd is made to stretch their throats and swallow the absurdity without a moment's examination?" "is it possible we are to be driven to the conclusion that the ground of faith in spirituality is identical with that of ignorance, superstition, fanaticism, bigotry?" we shall now proceed to give the case of angelique cottin, as reported in the night side of nature, and in the _courrier des etats unis_, and the investigations of the case as reported by m. arago, before the paris academy of sciences, th of february, . "angelique cottin was a native of la perriere, aged fourteen, when, on the th of january, , at eight o'clock in the evening, while weaving silk gloves at an oaken frame, in company with other girls, the frame began to jerk, and they could not by any efforts keep it steady. it seemed as if it were alive; and becoming alarmed, they called in the neighbors, who would not believe them, but desired them to sit down and go on with their work. being timid, they went one by one, and the frame remained still till angelique approached, when it recommenced its movements, while she was also attracted by the frame. thinking she was bewitched or possessed, her parents took her to the presbytery, that the spirit might be exorcised, or cast out. the curate, being a sensible man, objected, but set himself to work to observe the phenomenon, and being satisfied of the facts of the case, he bade them take her to a physician. "meanwhile, the intensity of the influence, whatever it was, augmented; not only articles made of oak, but all sorts of things, were acted upon by it, and reacted upon her, while persons who were near her, even without contact, frequently felt _electric_ shocks. the effects, which were diminished when she was on a carpet or a waxed cloth, were most remarkable when she _was on the bare earth_. they sometimes entirely ceased for three days, and then recommenced. metals were not affected. any thing touching her apron or dress would fly off, although a person held it; and monsieur herbert, while seated on a heavy tub or trough, was raised up with it. in short, the only place she could repose on was a stone covered with cork. they also kept her still by isolating her. when she was fatigued the effects diminished. a needle, suspended horizontally, oscillated rapidly with the motion of her arm, without contact; or remained fixed while deviating from the magnetic direction. great numbers of enlightened medical and scientific men witnessed these phenomena, and investigated them with every precaution to prevent imposition. she was often hurt by the violent involuntary movements she was thrown into, and was evidently afflicted by chorea, or st. vitus's dance."--_night side of nature_, page . "the french paper mentions the circumstance that while angelique was at work in the factory, "the cylinder she was turning was suddenly thrown a considerable distance without any visible cause; that this was repeated several times; that all the young girls in the factory fled, and ran to the curate to have him exorcise the young girl, believing she had a devil." after the priest had consigned her to the physician's care, the physician, with the father and mother, brought angelique to paris. m. arago received her, and took her to the observatory, and in the presence of mm. laugier and goujon made the following observations, which were reported to the paris academy of sciences:-- "_first._ it is the left side of the body which appears to acquire this sometimes attractive, but more frequently repulsive, property. a sheet of paper, a pen, or any other light body, being placed upon a table, if the young girl approaches her left hand, even before she touches it, the object is driven to a distance as by a gust of wind. the table itself is overthrown the moment it is touched by her hand, or even by a thread which she may hold in it. "_second._ this causes instantaneously a strong commotion in her side, which draws her towards the table; but it is in the region of the pelvis that this singular repulsive force appears to concentrate itself. "_third._ as had been observed the first day, if she attempted to sit, the seat was thrown far from her, with such force that any other person occupying it was carried away with it. "_fourth._ one day a chest upon which three men were seated was moved in the same manner. another day, although the chair was held by two very strong men, it was broken between their hands. "_fifth._ these phenomena are not produced in a continued manner. they manifest themselves in a greater or less degree, and from time to time during the day; but they show themselves in their intensity in the evening, from seven to nine o'clock. "_sixth._ then the girl is obliged to continue standing, and is in great agitation. "_seventh._ she can touch no object without breaking it or throwing it upon the ground. "_eighth._ all the articles of furniture which her garments touch are displaced and overthrown. "_ninth._ at that moment many persons have felt, by coming in contact with her, a true electrical shock. "_tenth._ during the entire duration of the paroxysms, the left side of the body is warmer than the right side. "_eleventh._ it is affected by jerks, unusual movements, and a kind of trembling which seems to communicate itself to the hand which touches it. "_twelfth._ this young person presents, moreover, a peculiar sensibility to the action of the magnet. when she approaches the north pole of the magnet she feels a violent shock, while the south pole produces no effect; so that if the experimenter changes the poles, but without her knowledge, she always discovers it by the difference of sensations which she experiences. "_thirteenth._ the general health of angelique is very good. the extraordinary movements, however, and the paroxysms observed every evening, resemble what one observes in some nervous maladies." "the great fact demonstrated in this case," says e. c. rogers, "is, that, under _peculiar conditions_, the human organism gives forth a physical power which, _without visible instruments_, lifts heavy bodies, attracts or repels them according to a law of polarity, overturns them, and produces the phenomena of sound. so far as the mere movement of objects, even of great weight, in connection with certain persons, is concerned, whether in the phenomena of the so called 'spiritual manifestations,' or out of them, the immediate agent is a physical one, and is identical throughout. none but the most ignorant can deny this." for a further delineation of the facts in this case, and deductions therefrom, we refer the reader to the work of mr. rogers, on the dynamic laws and relations of man. "the next case we shall refer to is that of frederica hauffe, of the town of prevorst, in the mountainous parts of germany. it was found that in her hands, at a very early age, the hazel wand pointed out metals and water. it was also found that, in certain localities, the influences from the earth had a very powerful effect upon her susceptible nerves. it was frequently observed by the one she often accompanied in his walks through solitary places, that though she was skipping ever so gayly by his side, at certain spots a kind of seriousness and shuddering came over her, which for a long time he could not comprehend. he also observed that she experienced the same sensations in churchyards, and in churches where there were graves; and that, in such churches, she never could remain below, but was obliged to repair to the galleries. superstition, it is true, has always claimed such facts as parts of her ghostly superstructure; but they are too material for this. frederica was almost constantly in a magnetic state, and in this condition frequently communicated what was taking place at a distance, and was aware of producing sounds in space, and some ways off; but this being found to materially injure her, the habit was abandoned. she had a very high degree of susceptibility to mundane influences, and the effect was, that mineral loads and subterranean currents acted through her upon a simple stick held in her hand. at one time she was attacked with nervous fever, which continued fourteen days with great violence. this was followed by _seven years of_ magnetic life, interrupted only by very short and merely apparent intervals. after the fever, she was attacked with spasms in the breast, which continued three days. on the second day, a peasant's wife came from the village, and seating herself beside her, said, "she needs no physicians; they cannot help her;" and laid her hands on her forehead. immediately she was seized with the most direful spasms, and her forehead was as cold as if she was dead. during the whole night she cried deliriously that the woman had exercised a demoniacal influence upon her; and whenever the woman returned she was always attacked with spasms. on the third day they sent for a physician; and being then in a magnetic condition, she cried to him when he entered, although she had never seen him, "if you are a physician, you must help me!" he, well understanding her malady, laid his hands on her head; and it was remarked that, as long as he remained in the room, she saw and heard him alone, and was insensible to the presence of all other persons. the same kind of exclusive attachment has been seen in cases of persons who have fallen under the peculiar influence of the magnet or a crystal, thus showing the relation of mundane agencies to the psychological nerve centres, as well as to the nerve centres in the spine, and among the viscera. after her physician had laid his hands on her she became calm, and slept for some hours. some internal remedies and a bath were prescribed for her; but the spasms returned in the night, and for eighteen weeks she was attacked by them from twice to five or six times a day. all the remedies prescribed proving inefficacious, recourse was had to "magnetic passes," which, for a time, relieved the spasms. it was amid such sufferings and such influences that, in the month of february, , after extreme tortures, she gave birth to her first child. this event was followed, for some time, by additional ills. the following is a somewhat curious circumstance, and goes to show the influence which one organization will have upon another, when a certain relation is established between them. it is this: the woman who, on a former occasion, had exerted so unhappy an influence upon the mother, produced precisely the same effects upon the child. her contact with it threw it into spasms, and the convulsions became periodical until its death. about a year after the birth of her child, being laughed at for her superstition, she was thrown into a state of rigid spasm, and became as cold and stiff as a corpse. for a long time no respiration was visible. she lay as in a dream. in this peculiar condition she spoke for three days entirely in verse and at another, she saw, for the same period, nothing but a ball of fire, that ran through her whole body as if on thin bright threads. and then, for three days, she felt as if water was falling upon her head, drop by drop; and it was at this time that she saw her own image. she saw it clad in white, seated on a stool, whilst she was lying in bed. she contemplated the vision for some time, and would have cried out, but could not; at length she made herself heard, and her husband entering, it disappeared. her susceptibility was now so great that she _heard and felt what happened at a distance_, and was so sensible to external agencies, _that the nails in the walls affected her_, which obliged her friends to remove them. the least light had a powerful influence upon her nervous system, and could not be endured. she was now induced to take a medicine which made her more calm, but threw her into a deeper trance. still she could not endure the sunlight. she was taken in a darkened carriage to her home on the mountains. "here she existed," says her physician, "only through the nervous emanation of others, and it became necessary that some one should always hold her hand; and if the person was weak, it increased her debility. the physician prescribed magnetic passes and medicines, but she fell into a magnetic sleep, _and then prescribed for herself_. her greatest suffering arose from the sensation of having a stone in her head. it seemed as if her brain was compressed, and at every breath she drew, the motion pained her. at this time a large magnet was applied to her forehead; immediately her head and face were turned round, and her mouth distorted as by a stroke of palsy. on the th of december she gave birth to her second child, which was followed, as before, by a long and severe illness. she continued constantly in a magnetic state. persons of various tempers now became her magnetizers. the effects of these different nervous temperaments upon hers were very serious. it brought her into special relation to so many persons, that, even _at a distance, they affected her, visions of whom would appear to her like visions of spirits_. this, moveover, brought her into a deeper magnetic condition, and rendered her more _dependent on the nervous energy of others_. another physician was employed from a distance. he gave her an amulet to wear, composed of certain substances, and a small magnet, all arranged together. occasionally this amulet, untouched by any one, would run about her head, breast, and bed covering, like a live thing." "it has already been remarked, that, in the earlier stage of her magnetic state, she was aware of _making sounds at a distance_. this she repeatedly performed, so that her friends at a distance, as they lay in bed, _heard distinctly the sounds_. this fact being communicated to her physician, dr. kerner, he, by actual experiment and observation, confirmed it. this was not performed by her will, which was inactive in her somnambulic or cataleptic state, as well as her consciousness. every nerve centre was in a most intimate _rapport_ or relation with the mundane agencies, especially that which acts in conjunction with the nervous force, and holds every animal in a certain connection with every thing out of the organism. the father of this unfortunate woman inhabited a house which formed a part of an old cathedral, where, it had been reported by former tenants, _strange sights had been seen, and strange sounds heard_. it was in this house, at the time of her somnambulic state, already spoken of, that there were heard _unusual knockings on the walls, noises in the air_, and other sounds, which, as dr. kerner remarks, "can be testified to by more than twenty credible witnesses." _there was a trampling up and down stairs by day and by night to be heard, but no one to be seen, as well as knockings on the walls and in the cellars; but, however suddenly a person flew to the place to try to detect whence the noise proceeded, they could see nothing. if they went outside, the knocking was immediately heard inside, and vice versa._ the noises at length became so perplexing, that her father declared that he could live in the house no longer. they were not only audible to every body in the house, but to the passengers in the street, who stopped to listen to them as they passed. whenever there was playing on the piano, and singing, sounds would commence on the walls." we have not room to mention all the facts in her case; but will add a few of the most remarkable. "she was very susceptible to _electrical influences_, and, what is almost incredible, _she had a preternatural feeling_ or _consciousness of human writing_. various minerals seemed to have a specific effect, when brought in contact with her. _glass and rock crystal_ had a powerful effect in waking her from the somnambulic state, or in exciting the force within her organism. this fact, and others of this character in abundance, point to the peculiar tendency of this force, in some cases of disease, to act outwardly from the nerve centres upon glass ware, window glass, &c. "we have known a child, eight years old," says mr. rogers, "who seldom, at one period, took hold of a glass dish without its soon bursting to pieces." in the case of frederica, a rock crystal, placed on the pit of her stomach, and allowed to remain there for some time, would produce a deep state of catalepsy. she was affected in the same manner by silicious sand and gravel, or even by standing some time near a glass window. if she chanced to seat herself on a sandstone beach, she was apt to become cataleptic; and once, having been for some time missed, she was at length found at the top of the house, seated on a heap of sand, so rigid, that she was unable to move away from it. whenever she was placed in a bath by her medical attendants, it was with a great deal of labor they could immerse her body beneath the surface. her specific gravity seemed to be more like cork, or a bladder of air, than that of muscle, nerve, and bone. something seemed to pervade her body, or to act upon it, so entirely opposite to the centripetal action of the earth, as to counteract this law of force in the most marked manner. this fact suggested to dr. kerner a curious experiment, which resulted in the development of another important phenomenon. he had concluded, that as all these phenomena had taken place more or less in conjunction with those usually termed _magnetic_ or _mesmeric_, there might be some relation of the forces in both, or indeed they might be identical. to test this matter, he at one time placed his fingers against hers, when he found at once there existed a mutual attraction, as between two magnets; and now, by extending his hand upward, _he raised her clear from the ground; thus she was suspended, as a magnet suspends a piece of iron_, or _another magnet, simply by a polar force_. this was repeated several times, and afterwards his wife did quite the same thing." "we have already spoken of the action which the sun's light had upon her in producing physical effects. among others it was observed that the different colored rays produced each a specific effect. the light of the moon, also, when she looked at it, produced coldness and shivering, with melancholy." the effects of these agents on the human organism are clearly explained, in the numbers of an astronomical paper, by mr. chapman, of philadelphia. "on touching frederica with a finger, during an electrical state of the atmosphere, she saw small flashes, which ascended to the ceiling; from men these were colorless, from women blue; and she perceived emanations of the same kind, and of the same variation of color, from people's eyes." concerning the power possessed in the nerve centres of this woman, to produce sounds at a distance, dr. kerner remarks as follows: "as i had been told by her parents, before her father's death, that, at the period of her early magnetic state, she was able to make herself heard by her friends, as they lay in bed at night, in the same village, in other houses, by a knocking,--as is said of the dead,--i asked her, in her sleep, whether she was able to do so now, and at what distance. she answered that she could sometimes do it. soon after this, as we were going to bed, (my children and servants being already asleep,) we heard a knocking, as if in the air over our heads; there were six knocks, at intervals of half a minute. it was a hollow, yet clear sound, soft, but distinct. we were certain there was no one near us, nor over us, from whom it could proceed; and our house stands by itself. on the following evening, when she was asleep, (we had mentioned the knocking to nobody whatever,) she asked me whether she should soon knock to us again; which, as she said it was hurtful to her, i declined." and yet, not long after this, kerner relates the following, as having taken place at his house: "on the morning of the d of march, , at one o'clock, i suddenly awoke, and heard seven knocks, one after another, at short intervals, seeming to proceed from the middle of my chamber: my wife was awakened also; and we could not compare this knocking to any ordinary sound. mrs. hauffe lived several houses distant from us." "on the th of the same month, rev. mr. hermann came into _rapport_ or special relation with mrs. h., through the medium of psychological sympathy, as well as through the physical influence. previous to this he had not been troubled with strange sounds at his house, but after that period he was awakened every night, at a particular hour, by a knocking in his room,--sometimes on the floor, and sometimes on the walls,--which his wife heard as well as himself. in a great part of her magnetic state, mrs. h. was under a strong state of religious feeling, and was often engaged in prayer. rev. mr. hermann sympathized with her in this, and with the commencement of the rapping in his room, he experienced an involuntary disposition to pray." (see mr. rogers's work, where many such cases are given.) in elucidation of the effect of glass, sand, gravel, &c., upon her organism, we will state an additional fact, as related by her physician: "on the st of april, dr. k. was at the house of mrs. h. the window being open, he saw a quantity of gravel come in the window, which he not only saw, as he says, 'but picked it up!' to be certain that no one threw it in, he immediately looked out. on comparing it, he found it to be such gravel as lay in the front of the house." "now, let the phenomena we have related be put side by side with those which occurred at the house of rufus elmer, in springfield, massachusetts, on the th of april, , as witnessed by professor wells, of cambridge, and others, and alleged to be the work of spirits. _first._ the table was moved in every possible direction, and with great force, when no cause of motion could be perceived. _second._ the table was forced against each one present so powerfully as to move them from their positions, together with the chairs they occupied, in all several feet. _third._ mr. wells and mr. edwards took hold of the table in such a manner as to exert their strength to the best advantage, but found the invisible power, exercised in the opposite direction, to be quite equal to their utmost efforts. _fourth_. in two instances, at least, while the hands of all the members of the circle were placed on the top of the table, and while no visible power was employed to raise the table, or otherwise to move it from its position, it was seen to rise clear of the floor, and to float in the atmosphere for several seconds, as if sustained by a denser medium than the air. _fifth._ mr. wells was rocked to and fro with great violence, and at length it poised itself on two legs, and remained in this position for some thirty seconds, when no other person was in contact with the table. _sixth._ three persons, messrs. wells, bliss, and edwards, assumed positions on the table at the same time, and while thus seated, the table was moved in various directions. _seventh._ occasionally we were made conscious of the occurrence of a powerful shock, which produced a vibratory motion of the floor of the apartment. it seemed like the motion occasioned by distant thunder, or the firing of ordnance far away, causing the tables, chairs, and other inanimate objects, and all of us, to tremble in such a manner that the effect was both seen and felt. in conclusion, it was observed that d. d. hume, the medium, frequently urged the company to hold his feet and hands. the room was well lighted, and a lamp was placed on and under the table, and every possible opportunity afforded for the closest inspection. they were therefore positive that there was no deception in the case. the conclusion was, _that it must be the work of spirits_--a singular conclusion, indeed, for men of such standing and acquirements. it might all have been accomplished, _biologically_; but admitting the whole to be literally and substantially true, they fall far short of well-attested phenomena, where it was not so much as _conjectured_ even to be _at all supernatural_." the fact is incontrovertibly evident, that physical agents, subtile and unseen, are every where at work. "force shows itself," as the elegant somerville remarks, in his connection of the physical sciences, "in every thing that exists in the heavens or on the earth." there is a physical power which not only binds satellites to their planet, and planets with suns, and sun with sun throughout the wide extent of creation, which is the cause of the disturbances, as well as the order of nature, but it physically binds man to man, and man to nature. and as every tremor it excites in one planet is immediately transmitted to the farthest limits of the system, in oscillations, which correspond in their periods with the cause producing them, like sympathetic notes in music, or vibrations from the deep tones of an organ, so every vibration, thus excited, is transmissible to the delicate centres of every organic being, provided the repulsive agent of those beings is changed in its relative condition so as to admit its influx. (see geometry and faith, by rev. t. hill, of waltham.) "it is well known to every chemist, that wherever there is chemical action going on, there is a constant evolution of some force. now, that there is a constant chemical action taking place is certain, and the sources of this action are very numerous. among others, we have that of water, (often holding in solution saline ingredients, thus increasing its action upon metallic substances,) which, percolating through the surface, acts upon all those surfaces whose materials have a strong chemical affinity for the oxygen or hydrogen of the water. wherever there is a mineral load the development of force is in some instances very great. for instance, mr. r. w. fox was able, by connecting two lodes with copper wires, and conducting the latter to the surface of the earth, and immersing them in a cell which contained a solution of sulphate of copper, to obtain an electrotype copy of an engraved copperplate. thus "the earth itself may be made a _battery_," as robert hunt says. "we know," he repeats, "that, through the superficial strata of the earth, electric currents circulate freely, whether they are composed of clay, sand, or any mixture of these with decomposed organic matter; indeed, that with any substance in a moist state, electric currents suffer no interruption." the electricity of mineral veins has attracted the attention of some of the first philosophers of europe, and has led to some highly-interesting experiments with regard to the action of this important agent in the formation, disposition, and direction of rocks and mineral veins. m. becqueral and others have made use of these currents successfully in imitating nature in her processes of making crystals and other mineral formations." "it is not, however, necessary to suppose that the agent of which we are treating particularly requires a chemical action to develop it, or the action of the electric force. experiments have proved that it is developed in every form of material action--that even the substances of the earth, without sensible alteration, exert this force. to this agent the sensitive nerve centres are extremely susceptible. the celebrated ritter, of germany, devoted much time to an investigation of this subject, and, in , published supplementary treatises upon it, together with amoretti's celebrated work on the same subject--physical and historical inquiries into rhabdomancy, &c., in germany. (see dr. ashburner's translation of rheinbach, first american edition; redfield.) schubert, in his work on natural history, says, "it seems clear, from many observations, that the whole mineral (and much of the vegetable) kingdom _has a profound and mysterious relation with the organism of man_." "_this_ relation," says rogers, "is that of matter with matter connected by an imponderable agent." "the phenomena which betray this, as a fact of nature, have been observable from the earliest ages. it is certain, however, that local causes often give developments to such strange phenomena, _that it requires all the science that can be mustered to keep back the tide of superstition which will be thus aroused in the breasts of those unacquainted with the action of these agents_." some will ask the question, "if these things be true, why have we not heard of them before?" we confess that we know of no other possible reason than that such inquiries are not "_posted up_," as they should be, in matters of history and science. but, before closing this part of our subject, we propose to relate a few more incidents, by way of illustration. "in the year - , certain highly-respectable houses in the city of new york seem to have been all at once unaccountably beset with a strange power, which seized upon particular parts, and would not allow any one, not even the members of the families, to touch those seemingly consecrated things. whenever this was attempted, a loud, sharp sound would be instantly given, accompanied with a sharp and spiteful flash of light, as if the agent was determined to protect that which it had seized upon. but this was not all; it would smartly shock the intruder with a blow, as if with an unseen fist, or the like. it even seized upon the members of these families at times, and would--so to speak--make them apparently strike one another, in an unseen manner, simultaneously. it was often the case that a stranger could not call at the door without being instantly struck on the wrist or elbow, on touching the knob of the door bell; and he would see, at the same instant, an angry flash of light, as if from some demon's eye. the ladies were not allowed to kiss each other without each receiving, on the approach of their lips, a fiery smack, as from a spirit's lips. the dear little ones of these families were prevented from giving their mothers the parting salutation on retiring for the night." "there _seemed_ to be a great deal of cunning shown by this agency. if the lady of the house did not think to pay all due deference to its rules, when she wished to give orders to the servants below through the metallic speaking tube, she was sure to receive an unseen blow in the mouth, almost sufficient to stagger her: at the same instant she would see the flash of what might have been taken for a 'fiery,' if not for an 'evil eye.'" "professor loomis visited these dwellings, (see annual of scientific discovery, , page ,) and observed these phenomena. he perceived the flash whenever the hand was brought near to the knob of the door, also to the gilded frame of a mirror, the gas pipes, or any metallic body, especially when this body communicated freely with the earth. "in one house," says this scientific gentleman, in his description before the american scientific association, at new haven, "in one house, which i have had the opportunity to examine, a child, in taking hold of the knob of a door, received so severe a shock that it ran off in great fright. in passing from one parlor to the other, if the lady of the house chanced to step upon the brass plate which served as a slide for the folding doors, she received an unpleasant shock in the foot. when she touched her finger to the chandelier, there appeared a brilliant spark, and a snap." after a careful examination of several cases of this kind, professor loomis came to the conclusion "that the electricity is created (excited) by the friction of the shoes of the inmates upon the carpets of the house." "if the professor is correct in his conjecture, it would follow that every house," says mr. rogers, "with similar carpets, should become electrized, and exhibit similar phenomena, in which case we should have observed their appearance at a much earlier period, and the occurrence would have been presented much more frequently and extensively. yet the phenomena is every whit electrical; hence we are led by them to see, that when local circumstances are favorable, an agent may be developed in our midst, which may play the most singular pranks, which, it is more than probable, may be attributed to _supernatural_, and even to spiritual _powers_, if the witnesses should be ignorant of those characteristics which identify them with a well-known agent. had the characteristics in the above been contrary to those of any known agent, although the phenomena had been entirely physical, how many would have leaped to the conclusion, without a moment's thought or investigation, that the force was a power of the invisible spirit world? with regard to the phenomena of the present day, reason has been entirely set aside; hence the precipitate conclusion concerning them, even by many who lay great claim to its use and application to all other subjects. we have been truly astonished at the course of such persons." "we shall now present a few cases that bear a closer analogy to electricity, perhaps, than those we have been considering. the first we shall speak of is that of the two smyrna girls, who visited france in , and exhibited what was called _their electrical powers, in moving tables without contact_. the account was published in the boston weekly magazine, of december , . the two girls landed at marseilles, about the first of november, . in hopes of realizing a splendid fortune, they intended to exhibit themselves in france, and other parts of the continent. immediately on their arrival, several persons, including several men of science and professors, visited them, and ascertained the following phenomena:-- _first._ "the girls stationed themselves, facing each other, at the ends of a large _table_, keeping at a distance from it of one or two feet, according to their electrical dispositions. _second._ "when a few minutes had elapsed, a _crackling_, like that of electric fluid spreading over gilt paper, was heard, when,-- _third._ "the table received a strong shake, which always made it _advance from_ the elder to the younger sister. _fourth._ "a _key_, _nails_, or any piece of _iron_ placed on the table _instantaneously stopped_ the phenomena. _fifth._ "when the iron was adapted to the _under part_ of the table, it produced no effect upon the experiment. _sixth._ "saving this singularity, the facts observed constantly followed the known laws of electricity, whether glass insulators were used, or whether one of the girls wore silk garments. in the latter case, the electric properties of both were neutralized." such was the state of matters for some days after the arrival of the young greeks; but,-- _seventh._ "the temperature having become cooled, and the atmosphere having loaded itself with _humidity_, all perceptible electric virtue seemed to have deserted them. one may conceive the melancholy of these girls," the writer continues, "and the disappointment of the two greeks, their relations, who came with them to share their anticipated wealth." "in this case we have the "manifestation" of a force greatly analogous to that often witnessed at the present day. in one important respect it acted differently from electricity, in that it was broken by simply laying a _key_ or a small piece of _iron_ on the object the agent had acted upon, &c. "it must be admitted, however," says mr. rogers, "that the fact of the influence of glass insulators and the silk dress, causing a cessation of the phenomena, shows that the agent that acted upon the table was, in some way, a form of electricity, though greatly varying, in its laws of action, from that usually known to science. we have," says mr. r., "some curious facts relating to this _modified agent_, to present from matucci and others," (in the second number of our work.) "from the effects of the humidity of the atmosphere, some may conclude that the agent must have been _electricity_, inasmuch as the same state of the atmosphere produces a like effect upon the action of friction electricity. let us allow this, and turn to precisely the same phenomenon, as it has been manifested in the cases of numerous 'mediums' for the so-called '_spiritual manifestations_.'" "we will not state it upon our authority alone, but also upon that of a large number of intelligent believers in the spiritual origin of these phenomena, that the electrical condition of the atmosphere enters into the circumstances of their evolution; that in a humid state of the weather it is not only difficult, in many instances, but sometimes it is absolutely impossible, to obtain them under such a condition." we know that many of the less informed "mediums" attribute these failures to the _capriciousness of the spirits_, and frequently scold them soundly for their misdemeanors, though at other times they seem to pity them because they get so weary and fatigued in answering so many inquiries, and being so long "_on duty_." "it was thought by some who witnessed the case of angelique cottin, that the agent which acted so powerfully from her organism, overthrowing tables, twisting chairs out of stout men's hands, raising a man in a heavy tub, was electricity. c. crowe says it did cause the deviation of the magnetic needle; but m. arago, who knows more about this abused agent than a nation of theorizers, could not detect the least signs of it by the nicest tests. and yet it would give the person who touched her or her dress a powerful shock, as if it _were_ electricity. still, it may be the same agent that is ground out of plate glass, that propagates news from city to city on iron wires, and that thunders in the material heavens." "it has been supposed that because, in many instances, 'mediums' have given shocks like those given by electrized bodies, the two agents must be identical. not long since, a young lady, about sixteen years of age, miss harriett bebee, was placed in a magnetic state, in company with mrs. tamlin, both being of a clairvoyant character. the sounds were heard while they were in that state. every time these occurred a very sensible jar, like an electric shock, was experienced by miss bebee. in answer to a question, she stated that at each sound she felt as if there was electricity passing over her. several of the persons, in whose presence these sounds are heard, always receive a slight shock, so that there is a slight jar, which has sometimes been so plain as to lead persons, ignorant of the facts and the phenomenon, to accuse them of making it themselves." says a writer upon this subject, "this feeling of electricity seems to pervade nearly every thing connected with these phenomena. when the rapping is heard, the peculiar jar is felt, differing from the jar produced by a blow; and in various other ways we are reminded of the use of this subtile agent. we often see, in a dark room, bright electric flashes on the wall and other places." the same writer observes, "persons sometimes feel a sensation of electricity passing over their limbs when they stand in the vicinity of those who get the sounds most freely, although the particular persons who seem to be the mediums feel no sensation at all. in one or two instances we have seen a perceptible shock, as if caused by a galvanic battery, especially when the persons were under the influence of magnetism." "in a work published in cincinnati, by "william t. coggshall, the author says, "we have felt positive electrical influences from clairvoyants. at the present time," he continues, "what is termed 'electrical circles' are being formed every week in cincinnati, for the benefit of persons whose systems require additional electrical power. we have seen several women so powerfully electrized in these circles, that the same effects were produced upon them which would have been had they been isolated in connection with a galvanic battery." so it has been seen that, on touching angelique cottin, a person would receive a "true electric shock." this kind of shock was experienced by campeti and bleton, in passing over mineral veins and subterraneous streams, as mentioned by dr. ashburner. "many somnambulic persons," says c. crowe, "are capable of giving an electric shock; and i have met with one person, not somnambulic, who informed me that he has frequently been able to do it by an effort of the will." "when an iron plate was brought near to one of reichenbach's patients, and a crystal brought in contact with it, the effect upon it was like an electric shock, which even ascended from the elbow to the shoulder." many other cases might be cited to the same purpose. the magnet and iron have a specific action upon the nervous system; and the same agent acts also from crystals, vegetable substances, and the human hand, nay, from the earth itself." the second number of mr. rogers's work contains some interesting facts of this character. "vitality," says dr. w. e. channing, in his notes on electricity, "is dependent on physical conditions, and performs its functions by the agency of physical forces." the rev. thomas hill, in his fragmentary supplement to the ninth bridgewater treatise, observes that "all bodies are moved through the agency of other bodies, and we see nowhere a motion which is not dependent upon _physical causes_, that is, which is not produced by _physical agents_. our will employs, unconsciously, the aid of nerve and muscle; the supreme will employs, with wise designs, the intervention of the laws of _impulse_, _attraction_, and _repulsion_." "when, in the course of ages, the comparative easy problems of astronomy were solved, problems of more difficulty were brought to view. phenomena which were not _obvious_, not _pictured alphabet_, but the _fine print of creation_, _electrical_, _optical_, and _chemical phenomena_, led men into more _hidden_ knowledge." "the agents employed by the animal organization," says dr. channing, "are principles found universally in nature, and, in addition to these, a force which is peculiar to living structures--the special agent of vitality." "now, it might reasonably be expected, that if electricity, among other agents found "universally in nature," is also associated with the agent of the animal economy, it might, under favorable conditions, exhibit its characteristic phenomena. these conditions would, of course, be owing to a variation of the organism from its normal standard. the following case, given by dr. ennemoser, of germany, exhibits some of these characteristics:-- the case was that of a young woman, sister of a professor at strasburg. immediately on a sudden fright, she was seized with a nervous malady, which continued for a long period, and finally terminated in her death. among the remarkable symptoms in her case were the following:-- _first._ those of _somnambulism_, with more or less lucidity. _second._ her body became so highly charged with electricity that it was necessary to conduct it away by a regular process of conduction. _third._ her body would impart powerful shocks to those who came in contact, and even when they did not touch her. _fourth._ she controlled its action so as to give her brother (the professor) a "smart shock when he was several rooms off." (the account states, that when the professor received the shock, "he started up and rushed into her chamber, where she was in bed; and as soon as she saw him, she said, laughing, 'ah, you felt it, did you?'") _fifth._ she was subject, also, to spasms and paroxysms of rigor and trembling. some of the phenomena, in this case, resemble those we see exhibited by the electric fish. the case is an important one in considering the command which the nerve centres possess over the general agents associated with them." we shall now present another singular case, which occurred in this country, in the month of january, , an account of which was given in silliman's journal, by a correspondent:-- _first._ that "on the evening of january , , during a somewhat extraordinary display of the northern lights, a respectable lady became so highly charged with electricity, as to give out vivid electrical sparks from the end of each finger, to the face of each of the company present." _second._ that this did not cease with the heavenly phenomena, but continued several months, during which time she was constantly charged and giving off electrical sparks to every conductor she approached. this was extremely vexatious, as she could not touch the stove, or any metallic utensil, without giving off an electrical spark, with the consequent twinge. _third._ that "the state most favorable to _this phenomena_ was an atmosphere of about eighty degrees fahrenheit, moderate exercise, and social enjoyment. it disappeared in an atmosphere approaching zero, and under the debilitating effects of fear." _fourth._ that, "when seated by the stove, reading, with her feet upon the fender, she gave sparks at the rate of three or four a minute; and under the most favorable circumstances, a spark that could be seen, heard, or felt, passed every moment." _fifth._ that "she could charge others in the same way, when insulated, who could then give sparks to others." _sixth._ "to make it satisfactory that her dress did not produce it, it was changed to cotton, and woollen, without altering the phenomenon. the lady is about thirty, of sedentary pursuits, and delicate state of health, having, for two years previously, suffered from acute rheumatism and neuralgic affections." for further investigation into the cause of singular phenomena evolved from secret agents, and the true philosophy of biology, magnetism, trance, &c., we would again refer to the numbers of a work by mr. rogers, now in process of publication. his principles and deductions challenge successful contradiction. experiments in biology. biology, so called, is one peculiar feature, or form, of mesmerism. "these experiments," says dr. richmond, "attracted much attention some three years since, in ohio, and other places, and such was the intense excitement of the public mind that, in some places, parents and the public were obliged to interfere and stop children from biologizing each other." it was found that not only muscular motion, but the exercise of the senses, could be destroyed by the will of the operator. taste was obliterated, or changed, memory destroyed, and any picture presented to the mind of the subject would be seen. tell him he saw snakes, and he would become frightened, and rush with violence over the seats and benches. tell him he was sleigh riding, and he would instantly seize the reins, and drive the horses with great glee. tell him he was a witch--an old woman in rags--and he would own the character, and confess all the crimes with which you had charged him. tell him he was a gay young lady, and another subject was about to court him, and a love scene would commence. tell him he was cold, and he would shiver, his teeth chatter; he would stamp, and thresh his hands to keep them warm. tell him it was summer--very hot, and he would begin fanning himself, fling off his coat, and, unless prevented, would divest himself of all garments tell him that a tree of fruit was before him, and he would begin to fill his pockets. sweep the room before him, and open the sky, and say that the river of life and a white throne were before him, that the judgment was set, and instantly he would assume the attitude of devotion; he would gaze with burning eye and rapt delight into the scene of glory. take him to a lake side, tell him a child was drowning in the water, and he would wade in, take it in his arms, and lay it carefully down, and weep over it in deep pity. bring before him the lightning's flash, the thunder's roll, or proclaim a god in grandeur, and a world on fire, and, as once actually took place in covington, kentucky, a dozen subjects fell in intense fright: some on to the floor, some on benches, others sought to fly, and all declared to the audience that a shower of fire seemed to be around them. any image the operator sees fit to plant in the subject's mind is readily done; any passion readily assumed; reverence, revenge, vanity, love, hate, fear, mirth, joy, grief, or ecstasy, are all _imitated_ at his bidding, and safely dispersed and reproduced with the rapidity of thought, changing in an instant both the actions and motions of the subject. tell the person he is suffocating in water, and he _will_ suffocate, unless you prevent him. tell him he is struck on the head, and he falls, as if stricken down with a hammer. no doubt a subject might be killed by a mental impression--by saying to him he was shot through the heart, or was struggling in water. this is the opinion of all operators in the art. the subject at the time is, to all appearance, in a perfectly _normal state_; his mental, moral, and physical powers seem unchanged, and he thinks at the time he can resist your power over him; he but gives you his eye, and you lead him captive by mental impressions. the only perceptible variation from the normal state is, that the _eye_, in most subjects, is clear and glassy, the same eye that is observed in some maniacs, and in consumptive patients--clear, sharp, and fearful to look at. the hidden fires of the soul seem to burn through it, with intense force. i have watched it for months, and years, in consumptives, under the wasting of vitality; and the eye kindles and sparkles with more intensity as they near their end. all impressible subjects have this eye, to a greater or less extent; all consumptives have it, as well as those who in early life are inclined to consumption. the facts and incidents under the effects of biology are truly singular and wonderful; and yet the advocates of the "spirit mania" admit there is nothing supernatural in them. for aught we can see, the phenomena put forth by the "rappers" differ not materially from the biologic developments. they seem to be identical with each other. i know it is affirmed that the developments of electro-biology do not cover the whole ground in dispute, inasmuch as _men and women only_ are found to yield to its impressions, while _chairs, tables_, and other inanimate objects remain unimpressed. but if chairs and tables are not moved by one form of magnetism, they are by another, as we have abundantly shown. and any one with half an eye cannot but see that it would require less effort to move a table, or other inanimate object, than living, intelligent beings, capable of exerting their will in opposition to the effort. dr. richmond says he has "seen an operator draw a dozen persons from their seats, by the magnetic force of his hand, at the distance of many feet. the first move of the hand would bring the head forward, then the body, and by adding his voice, 'you will stand up,' they would, _while resisting with the will, in spite of themselves_, stand up, and follow his hand around the room." if biologists have not usually exerted their power upon inanimate things, it has probably been because they did not deem it of sufficient importance. we have seen, however, a biologist raise a table to the ceiling of a room, kindly permitting it to stick there a while, to the no small amusement of the spectators! and it can be done again. by the way, we would inquire what biologist is it that has sometimes lent his aid in the raising of tables, at a "circle" in east boston, himself an unbeliever in "_spirit table-liftings_?" the editor of the spiritual telegraph says, that "in the biological experiments there is a _visible human operator_," but, "in the spiritual manifestations, no human operator can be found, or demonstrated to exist." but, pray, what is the "medium," in these manifestations, but _a visible human operator_? sometimes it takes three or four persons to produce a single demonstration. and sometimes they cannot muster _force_ enough to do this, especially if the weather be rainy. and this is probably the reason why the rappers at poughkeepsie have resolved not to admit unbelievers, nor at any time more than two or three new-comers, at a "circle," making, with the believers, ten or twelve in all--successful results never being guarantied to those invited to attend. mr. brittan himself asserts that it is "the same power that moves the _human medium_ that also moves the _wooden table_," &c. here we have a _human medium_ that is _moved to do something_, and _wooden tables_, also; and if we can discover the secret agent in the one case, we shall likewise in the other, for there is a perfect sameness or coincidence in their operations. it is the same _unseen_ power, in both cases, moving chairs, tables, tubs, troughs, bedsteads, and piles of lumber, besides other gross, ponderable bodies--cutting up an infinite variety of pranks to the _consternation_ of some, and the _amusement_ of others, as a. j. davis says of the dancing plates, knives and forks, shovel, tongs, and poker, moved by "electrical discharges and magnetic attractions," or emanations of vital electricity seeking its equilibrium in the atmosphere. faculty of imitation. the faculty of imitating signatures, of writing music, poetry, specimens of foreign tongues, &c., is no more strange than imitating the voice and gestures of those we never heard nor saw. persons of scarcely any education or talents, while under biological influence, have been made to imitate the voice of webster, everett, fillmore, and others, delivering off-hand speeches of most impassioned diction and eloquence; while, in their _normal_ state, they could scarcely frame a paragraph in the king's english, much more deliver a formal address, embellished with a profusion of metaphors, tropes, and figures, accompanied with the finished attitudes and movements of a choate, a sumner, or a banks! these mesmeric imitations refer also to mechanical and artistic power, and every talent that characterizes us as intelligent beings. some assert that mediums are in a _perfectly normal state_ during the exhibitions of the "spirit" phenomena; and yet, to the practical mesmerizer, nothing is plainer than that they are most absolutely mesmeric persons. the power of _imitation_ among mediums is various, but distinct. some draw _maps_, purporting to come from a deceased schoolmate. others draw _likenesses_; others speak in voices imitating the dead--but they can imitate the living just as well; others hear sounds--the voice of a wife, or child, or friend. walter scott relates the case of an english gentleman who was ill, and was told by his physician that he had lived in london too long, and _lived too fast_; and advised him to retire to the country and ruralize. one of his troubles was, that a set of _green_ dressed dancers would enter his drawing room, go through their evolutions, and retire. he knew it was an illusion, but could not resist the annoyance, or the impressions made on him. he returned to his country seat, and, in a few weeks, got rid of his visitors. he concluded to remain out of town, and sent to london for the furniture of his old parlor, to be placed in his country house; but when it came, and was arranged in the room, the _corps de ballet_, dressed in _green_, all rushed into the room, _exclaiming_, "here we are all again!" he had associated in his mind the furniture and the dancing apparitions, and when it returned, they came with it, and, as he thought, _spoke with voices_. we recollect of reading in a medical paper, published in boston, an account of a man who believed his house to be haunted by the devil, in consequence of which he resolved to vacate it and remove into the country. his goods were packed into a wagon, and he was just upon the point of starting with his load, when to his surprise he heard a voice, seemingly among the goods, crying out, "we are all going together." "if that is the case," said the man, "i will unload again; for if i am _to have_ the devil's company, it may as well be in one place as another." the excessive use of wine will induce a state of the brain, in which the person thinks he hears voices and sees spirits; but on close examination it will be found that it is the work of the abnormal powers, developed in the brain by stimulating agents or intense thinking. it will be recollected that swedenborg, after eating a late, heavy supper, heard a voice crying out to him in terrible accents, "eat not so much." (see chap. .) such phenomena may unravel the voice judge edwards heard. his long-continued meditation on death, with night, solitude, loneliness, and grief, had so impressed him that he thought he heard a sound in exact imitation of the voice of his wife. in the case related by scott, hearing was not only affected, but the organ of color was involved in the hallucination, and the _green figures_ were as plain before him as real persons. this is always one of the phenomena of ghost-seeing that the seer associates with the spectre, namely, _form_ and _color_, _voice_ and _action_. the cases of imitation referred to, and others of the same class, are the results of the _imitative mechanic power_ of the individual, brought out by the abnormal magnetic state existing at the time. for instance, if the individual has time and tune--the faculty of music within lying undeveloped--it may be brought out, and made to act, by the effects of magnetism. last winter we listened to a lecture delivered in newark, new jersey, by the rev. mr. harris, from new york city. he stated that there was a lady in providence, who, by the agency of spirits, produced musical compositions equal to the productions of the best masters, as haydn, beethoven, and others, and that a volume of these pieces were soon to be issued from the press. and although the said work has not been heard of as yet, still we doubt not that a person in a magnetic state might write very good music, even if totally ignorant of its rules, as this young lady was said to be. phrenologists often tell persons that they would make excellent tailors, dressmakers, poets, painters, musicians, &c.--persons who never attempted to operate in these callings. "all they need," it is said, "is an opportunity for the development of their powers." now, magnetism tends to develop or rouse these _dormant_ faculties into action. it also gives a far-reaching, a far-seeing grasp and perception of things, as in the case of miss martineau, who, be it remembered, was too intelligent to attribute such effects to the agency of spirits. a marked case of the increase of the _imitative power_ of persons in the magnetic condition, is found in the case of frederica hauffe. in one of her magnetic moods she informed dr. kerner that she would make a diagram of the spheres. "the sun sphere," as she called it, is very complex; but "she spun out the complicated web with unerring precision," and a pair of compasses given her to facilitate her labor only embarrassed her. it is made up of circles within circles, and sections and points, amounting to thousands, related and connected; and yet the "whole was executed," says dr. k., "in an incredible short space of time." an engraving was made of this sphere, and a year after she was shown the engraving, and said it was not correct; a point on one of the lines was wanting. on referring to the original, they found she was right. this diagram contained many curious things, and in some parts related to the highest departments of mathematics. this _faculty_ she only possessed in the magnetic state, being wholly incompetent to the task when not clairvoyant. no living artist can execute that diagram with a pen, with a fac-simile before him, with the rapidity with which that ignorant, unlettered child of nature did it. "i have, in many cases," says dr. richmond, "witnessed this imitative power of mediums with the pen, dashing off figures and images with a rashness and rapidity almost inconceivable." as far as we can see, there is no more proof of the agency of spirits in one case than in the other; and we are sure no such claim was ever set up in the case of mrs. hauffe, though living in a less enlightened region, perhaps, than these united states. we might multiply cases of this kind, but space will not permit. unseen letters and signatures. the operator in biology or magnetism often lays hold of the inquiring spectator, and uses him or her to imitate unseen letters, signatures, and sentences, in foreign languages. and no doubt but what professor bush has been made unconsciously instrumental in executing a few specimens of languages, his eyes wide open, it may be, all the while. it can be no more strange than that the son of dr. phelps should have been made unconsciously instrumental in tying himself to the limb of a tree in his father's yard, _supposing_ it to have been done by _spirits_. (see the version of the affair by a. j. davis.) a biological mesmerist assures us that he finds no difficulty in raising beds, chairs, and tables; and in the case of mr. kellogg it is shown that such things are easily done without any aid from _spirits_. in the case of dr. taylor, the writing medium, it is shown, by the testimony of the spirits themselves, if their word is to be relied on, that the phenomena in his case were not done by spirits, but were the results of vital electricity. such things are getting to be so common that we may expect soon to see the time when little ragged boys even (like those in egypt, who went through the streets offering to show the spirit of any deceased friend for a penny or a piece of cake) will offer to lift tables, or imitate handwritings, at a penny a sight. we know of several "mediums," now engaged in these things, who confess they do not understand by what power it is they raise tables, or write sentences, &c., yet they do not believe it to be done by the agency of disembodied spirits. in many schools, the children have been forbidden by their teachers to indulge in these foolish practices. this power may be electricity, in some of its forms, or some other agent that has some relation or affinity to it, as in the cases related by mr. rogers. a dancing light. a few years since the inhabitants of southboro', massachusetts, were excited and alarmed at the appearance of a _light_, about the size of a star, which for several successive nights was seen moving over a spot of land in the westerly part of the town. upon examining the premises by daylight, it was found that a quantity of bones that had been buried in the earth had been thrown upon the surface by the roots of a tree, the trunk of which had recently been prostrated by a gale of wind. by many, these bones were supposed to belong to some human being, who, it was conjectured, had been murdered, and buried beneath the spot. and the light seen hovering near was considered indicative of such an event. but if the reader will turn to the second chapter of this work, he will learn that these _dancing lights_, so called, arise from an inflammable gas, evolved from decayed animal and vegetable substances, which take fire on coming in contact with atmospheric air. this _ignis fatuus_, _jack-with-a-lantern_, or _will-with-a-wisp_ appearance is generally seen in dark nights, over boggy and marshy ground, and generally in motion, at the height of five or six feet, skipping from place to place, and frequently changing in magnitude and form. on some occasions, it is observed to be suddenly extinguished, and then to reappear at a distance from its former position. those persons who have endeavored to examine it closely have found that it moves away from them with a velocity proportioned to that of their advance--a circumstance which has had no small influence on the fears of the ignorant and superstitious. dr. denham once saw an _ignis fatuus_ in a boggy place, between two rocky hills, in a dark and calm night. he approached by degrees within two or three yards of it, and thereby had an opportunity of viewing it to the best advantage. it kept skipping about a dead thistle, till a slight motion of the air--occasioned, as he supposed, by his near approach--caused it to jump to another place; and as he advanced it kept flying before him. he observed it to be a uniform body of light, and concluded it must consist of _ignited vapor_. these appearances are common on the plains of boulogne, in italy, where they sometimes flit before the traveller on the road, saving him the expense of a torch on dark nights. sometimes they spread very wide, and then contract themselves; and sometimes they float like waves, and appear to drop sparks of fire. they shine more strongly in rainy than in dry weather. an appearance of the same kind is sometimes met with at sea, during gales of wind, and, of course, has become connected with many superstitious notions of sailors, who call it a _corpusant_. there are sometimes two together, and these are named castor and pollux. the following is a description of one, given by the voyager dampier: "after four o'clock the thunder and the rain abated, and then we saw a corpusant, at our maintopmast head. this sight rejoiced our men exceedingly, for the height of the storm is commonly over when the corpusant is seen aloft; but when they are seen lying on the deck, it is generally accounted a bad sign. a corpusant is a certain small, glittering light; when it appears, as this did, on the very top of a mainmast, or at a yardarm, it is like a star; but when it appears on the deck, it resembles a great glowworm. i have been told that when the spanish or portuguese see them they go to prayers, and bless themselves for the happy sight. i have heard some ignorant seamen discoursing how they have seen them creep, or, as they say, travel about, in the scuppers, telling many dismal stories that happened at such times; but i did never see any one stir out of the place where it was first fixed, except on deck, where every sea washeth it about. neither did i ever see any but when we had rain as well as wind, and, therefore, do believe it is some jelly." the origin and nature of the lights above described have not yet been satisfactorily explained. more accurate observations than have been made are required to furnish the basis of a correct theory respecting them. sailors' omens. sailors, usually the boldest men alive, are yet not unfrequently the very abject slaves of superstitious fear. nothing is more common than to hear them talk of noises, flashes, shadows, echoes, and other visible appearances, nightly seen and heard upon the waters. andrews, in his anecdotes, says, "superstition and profaneness, those extremes of human conduct, are too often found united in the sailor; and the man who dreads the stormy effects of drowning a cat, of whistling a contra dance while he leans over the gunwale, will, too often, wantonly defy his creator by the most daring execrations and licentious behavior." dr. pegge says that "sailors have a strange opinion of the devil's power and agency in stirring up winds, which notion seems to have been handed down from zoroaster, who imagined that there was an evil spirit, called _vato_, that could excite violent storms of wind." to lose a cat overboard, or to drown one, or to lose a bucket or a mop, is, at the present day, a very unlucky omen with common sailors. love charms. theocritus and virgil both introduce women into their pastorals, using charms and incantations to recover the affections of their sweethearts. shakspeare represents othello as accused of winning desdemona "by conjuration and mighty magic." "thou hast practised on her with foul charms; abused her delicate youth with drugs or minerals that waken motion. she is abused, stolen from me, and corrupted, by spells and medicines bought of mountebanks." in gay's shepherd's week, these are represented as country practices:-- "straight to the 'pothecary's shop i went, and in love powders all my money spent. behap what will, next sunday after prayers, when to the alehouse lubberkin repairs, these golden flies into his mug i'll throw, and soon the swain with fervent love shall glow." in love melancholy, by dr. ferrand, it is said, "we have sometimes among us our silly wenches, some that, out of a foolish curiosity they have, must needs be putting in practice some of those feats that they have received by tradition from their mother perhaps, or nurse; and so, not thinking forsooth to do any harm, as they hope to paganize it to their own damnation. for it is most certain that _botanomancy_, which is done by the noise, or crackling, that box or bay leaves make when they are crushed between one's hands, or cast into the fire, was of old in use among the pagans, who were wont to bruise poppy flowers betwixt their hands, by this means thinking to know their loves." speaking of the ancient love charms, characters, amulets, or such like periapses, dr. f. says, "they are such as no christian physician ought to use, notwithstanding that the common people do to this day too superstitiously believe and put in practice many of these paganish devices." miss blandy, who was executed many years ago for poisoning her father, persisted in affirming that she thought the powder given her by her villanous lover, cranston, to administer to him, was a "love powder," which was to conciliate her father's affection to her lover. she met her death with this asseveration; and her dying request, to be buried close to her father, seems a corroborating proof, that though she was certainly the cause of his premature death, yet she was not, in the blackest sense of the word, his wilful murderer. we quote the following lines from herrick's hesperides:-- a charm or an allay for love. "if so be a toad be laid in a sheepskin newly flayed, and that tied to a man, 'twill sever him and his affections ever" effects of a belief in a ghost. whenever a real ghost appears,--by which we mean some man or woman dressed up to frighten another,--if the supernatural character of the apparition has been for a moment believed, the effects on the spectator have always been injurious--sometimes producing convulsions, idiocy, madness, or even instantaneous death. the celebrated allston, the painter, when in england, related the following incident to his friend coleridge, the poet: "it was, i think," said he, "in the university of cambridge, near boston, that a certain youth took it into his wise head to convert a tom paine-ish companion of his by appearing as a ghost before him. he accordingly dressed himself up in the usual way, having previously extracted the ball from the pistol which always lay near the head of his friend's bed. upon first awakening, and seeing the apparition, the youth that was to be frightened very coolly looked his companion, the ghost, in the face, and said, 'i know you; this is a good joke; but you see i am not frightened. now you may vanish.' the ghost stood still. 'come,' said the youth, 'that is enough. i shall get angry; away!' still the ghost moved not. 'by heavens!' ejaculated the young man, 'if you do not, in three minutes, go away, i'll shoot you.' he waited the time, deliberately levelled his pistol, fired, and with a scream at the immovability of the figure, became convulsed, and soon afterwards died. the very instant he believed it to be a ghost, his human nature fell before it." the invisible lady. in the year , an invisible lady and acoustic temple were exhibited in boston, as an "extraordinary aerial phenomenon." its body was made of glass it gave answers to questions asked by visitors. in london, a few years ago, there was shown an apparatus consisting of a four-footed stand, and several trumpet-mouthed tubes, from any one of which spectators received ready answers to questions. the answers were said to come from the "invisible girl;" but the true explanation of the puzzle was, that a secret tube, in the legs of the apparatus, communicated the sounds to a girl in a neighboring apartment. probably something similar was arranged in the glass body exhibited in boston; and if we mistake not, during the sojourn of joice heth, of more recent notoriety, at the albany museum, a shrewd albanian, after a minute and diligent examination, made the wonderful discovery that the old lady, or _nurse of washington_, was composed of _india rubber_, and was made to breathe, speak, cry, sing, &c., by the aid of _ventriloquism_! in a case of spirit rappings, professor grimes discovered that the party had contrived to have some levers concealed beneath the floor, and by means of certain little pegs coming through where the rappers sat, connecting with the levers, all nicely poised on a balance, they placed their feet upon them, and produced the raps at pleasure. and in the case of the rochester rappers, when their ankles were firmly held by the committee of investigation, it is said a servant girl rapped with her knuckles under the floor. mrs. culver, who had been instructed by the fox family, and had practised with them a while, afterwards renounced the craft, and exposed this among other deceptions to the world. "the girl," she says, "was instructed to rap whenever she heard their voices calling for spirits." sorcerers in the east. the operations of the men sorcerers in india are quite scientific. they set about their work in a business-like manner, and in sight of the house of their intended victim the mystic caldron begins to boil and bubble. the victim, however, is not to be terrified out of his senses. what are his enemy's fires and incantations to him? he takes no notice, and continues to live on as though there was not a sorcerer in the world. but that _smoke_: it meets his eye the first object every morning. that ruddy glare: it is the last thing he sees at night. that measured but inarticulate sound: it is never out of his ear. his thoughts dwell on the mystical business. he is preoccupied, even in company. he wonders what they are putting into the pot, and if it has any connection with the spasm that has just shot through him. he becomes nervous; he feels sick; he cannot sleep from thinking; he cannot eat for that horrid broth that bubbles forever in his mind. he gets worse and worse, and dies! but this empire of the imagination is beaten in java, where it is supposed that a housebreaker, by throwing a handful of earth upon the beds of the inmates, completely incapacitates them from moving to save their property. the man who is to be robbed, on feeling the earth fall upon him, lies as motionless as if bound hand and foot. he is under a spell, which he feels unable to break. singular metamorphoses. in the east, men are believed to be frequently metamorphosed--sometimes voluntarily, sometimes involuntarily--into tigers. the voluntary transformation is effected merely by eating a certain root, whereupon the person is instantly changed into a tiger; and when tired of this character, he has only to eat another, when, as quick as thought, he subsides from a tiger into a man. but sometimes mistakes happen. an individual of an inquiring disposition once felt a strong curiosity to know the sensations attendant on transformation; but, being a prudent man, he set about the transformation with all necessary precaution. having provided himself with "the insane root that takes the reason prisoner," he gave one also to his wife, desiring her to stand by and watch the event, and as soon as she saw him fairly turned into a tiger, to thrust it into his mouth. she promised, but her nerves were not equal to the performance. as soon as she saw her husband fixed in his new form, she took to flight, carrying in her hand, in the confusion of her mind, the root that would have restored him to her faithful arms. and so it befell that the poor tiger-man was obliged to take to the woods, and for many a day he dined on his old neighbors of the village, but was at last shot, and _recognized_! in this superstition will be seen the prototype of the wolf mania of mediæval europe. in brittany, men betook themselves to the forests in the shape of wolves, out of a morbid passion for the amusement of howling and ravening; but if they left in some secure place the clothes they had thrown off to prepare for the metamorphosis, they had but to reassume them to regain their natural forms. but sometimes a catastrophe, like that above related, took place: the wife discovered the hidden clothes, and carrying them home, in the innocent carefulness of her heart, the poor husband lived and died a _wolf_! pernicious errors relating to health. in a former part of this volume, we have spoken of several impositions upon the credulity of the public, in matters appertaining to health. the astrologists have told us that "some plants are only to be plucked at the rising of the _dogstar_, when neither sun nor moon shine, while others are to be cut with a golden knife, when the moon is just six days old." to some particular plants "a string must be fastened, a hungry dog tied thereto, who, being allured by the smell of roasted flesh set before him, may pluck it up by the roots." at one time, the vegetable oil of swallows was considered a potent remedy. it was prepared "by compounding twenty different herbs with _twenty live swallows_, well beaten together in a mortar." another medicine was prepared from _the raspings of a human skull_; another from the _moss, growing on the head of a thief_, who had been gibbeted and left to hang in the air. in addition to these, we have had "_the powder of a mummy; the liver of frogs; the blood of weasels; an ointment made of sucking whelps; the marrow of a stag; and the thigh bone of an ox_." and we have numerous modern nostrums scarcely better than these, by which the gullible public are often sorely victimized. there are many opinions among the people, which prove highly deleterious in being carried into practice. for instance, that we must "stuff a cold to cure it," when the reverse of the case is the only safe mode of procedure. in a cold, the lungs are already loaded and congested with accumulations of muco-purulent matter, which is increased by taking large quantities of food. erroneous views, in regard to cleanliness, often lead to great mischief. there is a notion with some that dirt is really healthy, especially for children. this idea probably originated from the fact, that those children who are allowed to play in the dirt are often more healthy than those who are confined in the nursery or parlor. but it should be remembered that it is not _dirt_ which promotes their health, but active exercise in the open air. this more than compensates for the injury sustained by the dirt. there is, however, something deceitful, after all, in the ruddy appearance of these children, who, like some four-footed animals, are allowed to wallow in mire and dirt; for they actually suffer more, not only from chronic, but from acute diseases, than children whose parents are in better circumstances. the pores of the skin, as we have shown in the family physician, published by us a few years since, cannot be closed with filth for any length of time, and the subject remain uninjured. it is true, some years may pass away before the bad effects appear; but in after life, scrofula, rheumatism, jaundice, and even consumption, often arise after the cause which first gave rise to them is forgotten, if indeed it were ever suspected. it is our candid opinion, that a larger part of the deaths that occur among children by typhoid, scarlet fever, and other baleful diseases, is owing to some defect in management, as to diet, air, dress, or exercise, which we will briefly show in this connection. there are some, in adult life, who abstain wholly from external ablutions, and never think of washing their bodies from one year to another. now, such persons must be considered, to say the least, to be of an uncleanly habit; and such a habit is not only unfavorable to health, but to morality. mr. wesley reckons cleanliness to be second only to godliness. we venture to affirm that he who is most guilty of personal neglect will generally be found the most ignorant and vicious. i am well acquainted with a whole family who neglect their persons _from principle_. they are a sort of _new lights_ in religious things, and hold that the true christian should "slight the hovel, as beneath his care." but there is a want of intelligence, and even of common refinement, in the family, that certainly does not, and _cannot_, add much to their own happiness or comfort, aside from the fact that it greatly annoys their neighbors. we do not pretend to say but that there are some great and good persons who are slovenly in their general appearance; but these are only exceptions to a general rule. on the contrary, common observation teaches us that it is a distinguishing mark of low-bred rowdyism, and of vicious and intemperate habits, to see young men dressed in the most loose and careless manner. a person of refinement and cultivation would feel ashamed to appear in such a manner before the public gaze. neglect of proper ventilation leads to incomparable mischief. there are many persons who live through the day in closely confined and excessively heated apartments, and also sleep in small contracted bed rooms, without the least opportunity for a current of fresh air. who can wonder that they rise in the morning with wearied limbs, languid and listless, with a furred tongue, parched mouth, and headache? they are continually subjected to inhaling, over and over, the poison, the miasma, of their own bodies, which cannot but result, in the end, to the great detriment of health. we are perfectly astonished, oftentimes, to see to what an extent such a thing is carried. take this, in connection with eating improper and badly-cooked food, fat meats, gravies, and pastries, the want of suitable protection against atmospheric changes, and active exercise in the open air, and who can marvel at the prevalence of deadly fevers, consumption, or cholera even? it is only a matter of surprise that there are not ten deaths where there is now one. look at the quality of the meats purchased for use. it is now a common practice with farmers (in order to save the milk) to sell their calves for market as soon as born; and people eagerly purchase this immatured meat because afforded at a low price. then look at the enormous quantities of _pork_ consumed. go past the sausage factories, in the cities of jersey, and you behold it heaped in piles, ready for the work of the hundreds of "choppers," driven by steam. then look into the groceries, see the array of pound sausage meat, and cheese heads, so called. a grocer in newark city informed us, last winter, that sausage meat and buckwheat cakes formed three quarters of the aliment of the citizens. and in paterson, new jersey, in the hottest of the season, calves were lying upon the pavements, ready to be slaughtered, and almost as momentarily devoured, as occasion demanded. even the poor fowls, their legs swollen with inflammation from the cords with which they were bound, and half famished for water and food, and fevered by fright and exposure, were readily purchased by men and women, to satisfy the cravings of a perverted appetite. when we behold such practices, we cannot think it strange that mortality should be so rife as it is at times, especially when the atmosphere is in a condition to affect the body in a predisposed state, favorable to the development of diseases, such as that of small-pox, cholera, fever and ague, scarlet and typhoid, (i.e., decomposing fever,) which is the concentration of all others. the food we eat may convey the disease within, and unless the state of our system is healthy and harmonious, the resisting power will not be equal to the force and action of the external elements, and consequently we shall become a prey to the contagion, whatever type or form it assumes. we are somewhat inclined to think that a. j. davis (who is a physician by profession) is correct, when he says, "the atmosphere has had the cholera, more or less, for thirty years, and will continue to have it until there occurs a geological change in many portions of the earth; and from the atmosphere the disease has been, and is, communicated epidemically to the predisposed potato plant, and also to the human system." a late english writer remarks, that "certain diseases prevail at the approach of the equinoxes." * * * * * * transcriber's note: minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have been retained as printed. unmatched double quotation marks occur in numerous places, particularly near the end of the text. no attempt was made to open or close these quotations unless the location of the missing double quotation mark was apparent. within the temple of isis. by belle m. wagner. denver, colorado: astro-philosophical publishing co., . copyright, , by henry wagner, m.d. dedication. to my husband, henry wagner, m.d., in acknowledgement of his true worth as a warrior in the cause of truth, and his devotion to the brotherhood and sisterhood of man, and the fatherhood and motherhood of god, i dedicate this book. by the authoress. [transcriber's note: small errors, mainly in punctuation, have been corrected in this version. to see where corrections have been made, please view the html version.] publisher's preface. we are safe in saying that "within the temple of isis" is unique and stands alone. there is no other book in print like it, and if solomon of old had not said, "there is nothing new under the sun," we would be inclined to contradict him. "within the temple of isis" god's word was law as interpreted by his hierophants; their oneness with the fountain of being made them conscious of nature's secret operations, and enabled them, as it does the wise ones of to-day, to enter the temple of isis and observe the hidden mysteries concealed behind the veil. purity of motive and sincerity of purpose brought its own reward to them of old as it does to those of to-day who purify themselves before seeking for the knowledge and wisdom hidden within the "holy of holies"--"the temple of isis." isis means mother of all, while osiris means father of all. the temple of two truths as matter and spirit must be realized within. the polar opposites are those of sex dually expressed as two poles of one law or principle as taught by hermetic philosophy before the law of polarization of spirit into matter, and matter back into spirit, can be understood. the alchemist and the astrologer, alike, possess this wisdom, and it was this knowledge that made the priests kings of egypt, so justly famous as magicians or wise men. they still exist in spirit realms and can transmit to this plane of earth their wisdom, that would make earth a veritable paradise if only the race could be made to realize its magical powers. scientific inventions of great moment to the race are thus projected to the earth, and spiritual adepts in occult laws will again revive the "wisdom religion" upon earth in all its beauty and grandeur as the western race becomes fitted intellectually and spiritually to receive it. nature ever repeats herself in cycles of time on the spiritual and mental, as well as the physical planes of life. end, there is none. time and eternity are the ever-present now, so far as the spirit is concerned. therefore, the readers of this strange occult book will some day realize its truths as realities of natural law on the spiritual planes of life. it is a clear, practical statement of soul marriage and of soul transfer from one earthly temple to that of another. nature's laws are ever the same; therefore, the same experiences herein narrated are applicable to neophytes seeking soul initiation to-day as they were in the days of the temple of isis, and if the veil of isis could be raised for one single moment the world would be startled by the mysterious revelations disclosed. to the seers and the occult initiates alike, this book will appeal with magical force. its truths are those of the soul and spirit, and can await the reader's soul development for verification. truth needs no apology; therefore, none will be offered as an excuse for this publication. it is our desire that our readers may some day know for themselves that truth is indeed stranger than fiction. introduction. in presenting this little volume to our readers we ask them to accept it, not as fiction, but as divine truth as to the laws herein revealed. not a statement is made that is not possible to the divine will of man. although it can not be proven to your outward knowledge, do not reject and declare it is not true. history will teach you there actually existed a "temple of isis," and the translations thereof, although many of them are very incorrect, of the wonderful magic therein performed, lead one to think there was some wisdom issued from that temple that is yet beyond the human family, as a whole, to understand. "the temple of isis" exists no more in external form, and the hierophants of that temple have passed from this to the spiritual planes above. but, need we think by that, the blind forces of nature can no more be controlled? the forces are just the same to-day, but man's mind fails to grasp the truth that history repeats itself. mighty hierophants are upon the earth to-day, in embryo, and when the time comes that points favorably for active spiritual work on the western continent, they will be called forth and egypt will not be ashamed of her true children nor their works. the wisdom religion of egypt still exists and we can contact that wisdom by the development of our souls. even do the wise men of the east, that was, exert their spiritual influence upon us to-day if we but knew it. the trouble lies with us not with them. they will never conceal it from the honest soul truly seeking for light, life and love. follow us carefully to the end, without prejudice, and when you have finished, if you still think it fiction, strive to prove its falsity and stop not until you have reached that stage of soul unfoldment that will enable you to occupy that plane whereby you can stand beside the great hierophants of "the temple of isis." the authoress. within the temple of isis. chapter i. the revelation of the astrologer. although the hour was very late, near midnight, the priestess had just retired to her apartments for repose. the rites of the day had been extremely long and fatiguing, as they always were for a priestess of isis attendant upon the burial service of one in high rank; and a great nobleman of the land, as well as a near relative of the priestess herself, had been buried that day. thus personal sorrow had mingled with and added weight to the impressive and solemn grandeur of the occasion, yet, strangely enough her mind was neither with the events of the day nor the dead, but her thoughts were resting now where they had wandered many times throughout the day, namely, to her little handmaid and special attendant, as well as vestal in the temple, sarthia. sarthia, who at the very beginning of the chants and litany, had failed in her part and had, with such a pitiable moan and beseeching glance at her, been hastily withdrawn from the assembly and assisted to the private courts. poor child, she thought, the strain upon her emotions, the solemn occasion, was too great for her in view of the crisis, which all unknown to her, must be now impending. however, upon learning from an attendant that the young girl was resting quietly and apparently not ill, she had not herself personally visited her, but concluded to wait until morning. once, twice, thrice, just as the priestess had, as it were, passed the border-land of sleep the pale face, with its pleading eyes and plaintive cry, had started her back to vivid consciousness. "ah! this will never do," she said, springing to her feet. "something is indeed wrong," and taking up her mantle she glided swiftly through the corridors, and a few moments later was bending over the silent and motionless form of sarthia. noiseless as had been the approach of the priestess some interior vibration had informed sarthia of her coming and, with a quivering and swift movement, she sprang from her couch and threw herself impulsively into the arms of the priestess. "ah! sweet mother, well beloved of our blessed and divine isis, hear me and help me," said the girl, in a whisper, tense and low, so low as only to reach the listening ear of the priestess. "speak child," answered the priestess, caressingly clasping sarthia to her bosom with one strong arm, and with the other making soft, mesmeric passes over her trembling body. "ah! thank you, sweet mother; this is so good and kind of you to come to me to-night. i have suffered so all day from your thought; you have been disappointed in your sarthia and with reason, too. a vestal, who all but faints at the sight of death, is not made of the stuff required in the temple service. but, believe me, dear priestess, the trouble is far deeper than appears upon the surface. the ritual this morning but furnished the occasion or, rather, hastened some crisis that was already near at hand. for some time now i am haunted by most potent premonitions of a violent death. night after night, dark apparitions hang around my bed, and only last night i awoke to find the bird of nu, the owl, from out the inner sanctuary of the temple, perched upon my pillow and shaking his head and croaking at me most mournfully." "what!" exclaimed the priestess. "the bird of nu. ah! this is indeed very serious. the matter must be investigated at once. but, my child, if all these portents prove true, do you fear death? have all our teachings been in vain? have you made so little progress in knowledge and the philosophy of existence as to be overcome by dark shadows and grow faint in the presence of the sentiment and show of an external ceremony? the pageantry, which appeals so overwhelmingly to the emotions of the outside world, is the necessary means of teaching the people these awful and stupendous mysteries of life and death. but the initiate should be sustained by actual experiences within these hidden realms and possess a knowledge of their inner nature which places him on a plane far above the reach of fear; besides being endowed with that burning love for wisdom which calmly discerns good in evil, and immortal life in the shadow, called death. do not think i am chiding you, my child. i am only seeking to recall my real sarthia, who is incapable of fear, back to this physical expression called body. "there, already the bright soul shines again with its usual clear light. hold it firmly and do not let it flicker so again, and now i must leave you to seek an interview with the chief of the astrologers. the record and horoscope of your birth must be carefully looked up, and the meaning of these portents determined. good-night, my child." with a kiss, fond and maternal, the priestess withdrew. she proceeded leisurely and thoughtfully toward a distant part of the temple, having first dispatched a messenger before her to announce her coming, seeking an audience, well knowing that at this now early hour of morning the astrologer priests would all be in the midst of their busiest studies, calculations and most profound observations. but sarthia, when left alone, although marvelously calmed and comforted by the tender presence and lofty words of her idolized priestess could not compose herself to sleep. instead, she soon floated into a state of restful contemplation, drifting from one topic to another, until suddenly she found herself confronted by a most intensely vivid and startling vision. "can it be?" yes, true enough, there sat the venerable astrologer holding in his hand before him, her chart of birth. beside him, engaged in completing the necessary calculations, sat the scribe and youthful astrologer priest, hermo. there was a strange pallor over his face and a compression of the lips which betrayed unusual emotion. the priestess was partially facing them, composed, yet with a serious thoughtfulness of mien. at last, hermo, looking up, said, "the directions for the present year of life are made out, and the fatal arc carefully computed, venerated master," and handed his work to the astrologer who took it, studied a moment briefly, and turned to the priestess. "what is the result, venerated father?" she asked gently. the astrologer slowly shook his head and replied impressively, "according to all the laws of our science, and you know how true they are, the physical organism of sarthia can not survive this present cycle of yonder fair goddess of the night." and, with a majestic move, he pushed aside a curtain, revealing the moon now low in the west. "so short a time," said the priestess. "to-morrow night will be the full, and must we indeed lose our sarthia before another new moon? what is the nature of these evil influences?" "the planets, in their configurations, indicate sudden and violent dissolution," was the reply. "ah, now," said sarthia to herself resolutely, at this point turning away from the vision, "now i understand it all," and with a feeling of amaze at her newly-attained clairvoyance she fell into a deep and refreshing sleep. chapter ii. in the presence of the hierophant. with the first waking moments a sharp pang recalled to sarthia the vision and its revealments of the previous night. but her mind had fully recovered its philosophic tone and she proceeded about her customary routine of duties, calm and firm, and, as is often the case, in view of some inevitable and stupendous catastrophy close at hand, life only seemed larger, more intensely real. so, when later in the day she received summons to meet the great hierophant and high priest, what, at any other time, would have seemed a most momentous event, appeared now only in the light of the expected and necessary. as she was ushered into the presence of the holy father the whole apartment seemed pervaded by an atmosphere of genial warmth and electrical-giving life which somehow emanated from the inner nature of the priest himself, radiating also spiritual and mental, as well as physical force. for some moments the hierophant regarded the young vestal in silence, but sarthia was conscious that he was reading her inmost thought and motive like an open book, even down to her vision of the astrologer and his fatal announcement regarding her life. "my child," he said at length, "are you ready for the great change now already at hand?" "no, father, not ready but resigned to what seems to be the inevitable decrees of the planets that rule my physical destiny." "thou hast well said thou art not ready. your life has yet but only begun for you. its experiences, its many lessons and duties, are all unlearnt and you would pass to the spirit world immatured. your young soul, like fruit plucked from the tree too soon, would ripen slowly, losing many of its flavors and never attaining certain of its best and highest qualities, for as you well know, progress in the next stage of existence depends upon the attainments in this. "thou art not ready, yet say you are willing to bow to the inevitable. this is wise, still have you not heard it said many times that man is the arbiter of his own destiny and that the soul was the inheritor of god-like powers by which it could rise to the plane whereby it ruled, instead of obeying the blind or planetary forces of nature?" "true, o venerated father, i have indeed heard all this, but i am very ignorant. are there such possibilities for my soul?" and somehow imperceptibly hope began to dawn within her heart and quicken the life forces. "ruling the blind forces of nature is very like ruling the wild beast, although the beast is much stronger than man and capable of tearing him to pieces, yet man, by forethought, can evade or trap and chain or otherwise overcome him. so my child, there are ways wherein man, assisted by his own knowledge, and by the instruction of departed spirits; aye, by the immortal gods themselves, can evade even the malefic planets in their devastating course. "to my clairvoyant vision, as i now at this moment look at you, every minute atom of your physical organism is in the subtle process of depolarization from unity toward chaos and disintegration. you are not yourself conscious of this condition only as it has been revealed to you, for your soul is so alive that it has become almost unconscious of its physical expression and for this very reason the shock of dissolution would be all the greater when it did come; for example, witness your unexpected collapse yesterday morning. ah! sudden death is a most deplorable calamity, and your pitiable state of mind was but a foretaste of what would be the state of your soul for many long years, if you had died then, and will yet be, to a less extent now, unless this swift-coming blow can be evaded. "however, in case the worst comes to worst, you have about ten days more of this external life and under our special care and preparation you can live years of experience in hours of physical time, and your soul thus equipped may courageously enter upon its journey to the spirit world. rest assured, my child, everything possible shall be done for you." "ah, thank you; thank you, kind and good father," exclaimed sarthia, casting herself at the feet of the hierophant and, with tears streaming from her eyes, kissing the hem of his robe. "but, truly life is sweet, especially to the young, is it not, my child?" said the priest, gently raising sarthia to his side and holding her trembling form in a firm clasp. "happily, there is an alternative which we have to offer for your most careful consideration and decision. "listen now, and give me your closest attention. know you the young princess nu-nah?" sarthia bowed assent. "for now these many weeks she lies in a semi-conscious condition, the soul hovering about its earthly temple uncertain whether to go or stay. in some respects her condition corresponds with your own, only that with you, as dissolution approaches, your soul grows brighter and more active, while hers becomes more and more latent; this result being largely the difference of environment--a contrast of the soul unfoldment possible in temple life and that amid the distractions of the outside world. "to-night, the night of the full moon, the princess nu-nah will be brought to the temple and the rites performed initiatory to the soul's great change. you, also, my child, must bear her company. the same journey lies before you both and you can go hand in hand through the dark valley of the shadow of death. "and now, right here is a point where all will depend upon _your_ decision. it is possible for us, by aid of the arts of magic known to us, to bring your two souls in such magnetic rapport that at a certain point the vibrations of the two will, for a single instant of time, be in unison. at that momentous instant the polarity of the two souls can be interchanged so that the subsequent vibrations of your soul will draw you toward nu-nah's body, while nu-nah's soul will be drawn toward your organism, and thus will be accomplished the first great step in the drama. "this great change will hasten the physical crisis in each organism. but your soul, while connected with nu-nah's body, can easily overcome the malefic planetary influences which would destroy it if she were there; while her soul in your body renders _nil_, by its very non-resistance, the influences which would be absolutely fatal were you still there when the evil descends. and thus do you evade the blind forces of nature. two lives are spared for the duties and experiences of this world. this will be the second part of the drama, and now comes the third and last point to consider, the result. "in just the proportion as this is a most stupendous change in your soul life, so indeed, perhaps, even appalling to your present comprehension, will be the effect. "after your soul has once entered its new temple it will be obliged to remain there polarized by the new forces set in operation while passing the crisis. then, sarthia, our bright and well-beloved vestal, will henceforth be known as princess nu-nah, and will be obliged for a time to live the life and perform the duties of the princess. "on the other hand, the princess nu-nah will put on the external body of our vestal sarthia and enter upon the life of the temple service, but with this difference; that while this change is consciously made by you, nu-nah will probably never know it until she passes finally to the spirit world. her past life has already faded from memory while consciousness of the new life will dawn gradually as upon an infant, and therefore, since she can not be consulted in the matter, the decision rests solely with you. "to-night, at midnight, your answer will be required. until then, fare thee well, and god be with you." chapter iii. the midnight of the full moon. it yet lacked several hours of the fateful midnight, as sarthia, her body perfumed and annointed, according to the prescribed rites, was borne by faithful attendants from the bath into the courts of the sanctuary and placed upon a couch beside another, upon which already rested the unconscious form of the lovely princess nu-nah. but sarthia, although to an external, observer as unconscious as the fair nu-nah, was never more intensely awake, every atom of her being and soul alert to all transpiring about her and conveyed to her through her marvelous new gifts of clairvoyance and clairaudience. never, with the external eye, had she seen more vividly the vista upon vista of columns and corridors winding in and about the sanctuary, now illuminated by the full-orbed queen of the night, which she could see shining through a certain archway, and her heart thrilled as she counted the number of archways fair luna must pass until, at midnight, she would shine down through the one just above her. already had begun the weird chants, interspersed with solos of exquisite harmonies of stringed and wind instruments--responses and echoes. incense burned and perfumes arose and blended in an indescribable union with melody and motion, while as the fragrant vapors from the burning censers wafted and wreathed about the colonnades and porticoes, spirit forms added their presence to the sublime scene, bringing with them flowers, aromas and harmonies from the divine abodes of the very gods themselves. oblivious of the passage of time, while intently absorbed in every minutest detail of the wonders passing about her, sarthia was almost becoming drowsy, when suddenly, the moon looked in upon her, fast nearing the final archway, and yet she was undecided. she turned and gazed upon her companion, mentally asking, "can i become nu-nah?" nu-nah was very beautiful and a princess. but sarthia was also beautiful and the blood in her veins was royal, though of a different branch from the present ruling house. nu-nah was cold and haughty, accustomed to rule and be obeyed. sarthia was humble externally, a vestal of the temple, but in her mind and soul as imperious as a queen of the realm of heaven. passionately devoted to the pursuit of wisdom and the possibilities of obtaining knowledge, even magic was open to her, in the temple service. could she leave her temple home, her opportunities for growth, her idolized priestess, to go into the environments of nu-nah? the thought seemed to her worse than death itself. "every one has to die," she mused, "and i may as well die one time as another." then another thought came into her mind--hermo. he had begun to teach her the mysteries of his science of astrology. hermo, for whom she had a pure sisterly regard and who was so proud of her swift proficiency in his favorite study. and then she recalled the vision of the previous night when hermo had shown to her clairvoyant eye his agitation at her impending doom. "but if i become nu-nah and nu-nah becomes sarthia, hermo will never know the difference and thus be spared the pain of loving his young sister. and furthermore, nu-nah has a lover to whom she is betrothed and would have married, ere this, but for her lingering malady, the superb young prince rathunor, whom i have never seen." ah! here was indeed a most dire complication. love was a most mysterious and unknown emotion to her. she might hate prince rathunor and "then we would both wish i had died," and she half laughed to herself at the domestic comedy thus presented to her mind. at this period, either as a reaction from the light thrown, or lighter thought upon her overwrought nature, or possibly from some subtle, potent influence emanating from the censer burning near her, sarthia lapsed into sudden and most profound unconsciousness. a few moments later--it seemed to sarthia as if ages had intervened--she began a fierce struggle to awake. "why, how is this?" she thought. she seemed enveloped in a dead wall of some kind. the brain, the heart, the infinite ramification of nerves in no way responded to her will and her utmost effort. almost worn out with the unequal battle it began to dawn upon her that she was really endeavoring to animate the other body. "am i becoming nu-nah?" yes, in the excitement of the moment she raised herself upon her couch and, resting upon her elbow, gazed upon the rigid form of what a moment before had been herself. but her movement had startled a form beside the couch, some one who had approached, unobserved by sarthia, during the interval of unconsciousness. a young man who seemed to her the most god-like being she had ever beheld and perceiving her glance, with a low exclamation of joy, sprang toward her, clasped her hand in his, and turning her face upward, gazed with most passionate tenderness into her eyes. "my nu-nah, you will live," he murmured. "do you know your rathunor?" thrilled to suffocation by the love in his eyes, every atom of her soul vibrating to a new-born and overwhelming emotion, she felt herself slowly but surely losing control of her new body. with, however, one supreme effort she pressed the hand holding hers and returning the look in his eyes she gave one deep, quivering sigh and was gone. when again she regained consciousness she was within her own body. rathunor had vanished and the first slanting rays of the moon were descending the last aperture. it was midnight, and she found herself in communication with the hierophant, who, from a different portion of the sanctuary, was seriously regarding her and again reading her inmost thoughts. a few moments before she had all but decided that she could not be nu-nah, that death now, here in this holy sanctuary were better far than hundreds of years as a princess of the realm of materiality. but, a new factor had now entered her being. a force, more subtle than all wisdom,--more potent than life or eternity itself,--had transfused her soul--love! love, the first, the highest, the all-embracing force of the mighty universe, and with this new love had been ushered also into being, jealousy. "rathunor loved nu-nah! am i not a strange interloper? was it not worse by my decision to rob nu-nah of her lover than to deprive her of continued physical life?" for, it seemed to her now, that life without love would be more than the agonies of the lowest hells. then again, to live with rathunor as his wife, while he all the time thought her to be nu-nah, would be an incessant torture, keener and more intense than if she were chained by, as a third person, to behold him loving the actual nu-nah in her own body. "holy father and revered hierophant," she moaned, "help me, i can not decide." "my child," came the mental response to her call, "if you could be assured that rathunor would love _you_ in nu-nah's body, would the decision be easy?" "aye, indeed, dear father." "then rest assured it will be as you desire. we give you our sacred word that rathunor will love _you_." then, raising his arm, as in benediction, he slowly repeated thrice, like an incantation, the words, "rest in peace," and, ere the echoes of his voice had died away, the soul of sarthia had left forever its earthly abode and temple. chapter iv. within the adytum. for several days, after floating from her body into the astral world, sarthia remained in a state of profound, dreamless slumber and then gradually passed into a condition of semi-consciousness with occasional fitful gleams of memory until one day she realized herself in close proximity to two persons engaged in earnest conversation and became fully aware of the momentous events that had just transpired and her present disembodied situation. and with a thrill indescribable she recognized the voice of rathunor addressing the hierophant. "and so, most revered father, all things are progressing favorably and toward a satisfactory culmination?" he said. "even so, my son," was the reply. "and yet," continued the prince, "save the one momentary gleam of recognition, upon the first night of the ceremonies, the soul of the princess nu-nah, to all outward appearance, has left entirely. the body is sustained, apparently, by some magical process, the nature of which i do not understand." "true, my son, but that need not disquiet you. the resources of nature are many and far from being exhausted. but then, youth is naturally impatient. did you so deeply love the princess?" at this point sarthia would have withdrawn but she found that her desire to stay chained her to the spot, and glancing at the hierophant she realized that her presence was known to him and that he wished her to remain. the prince mused thoughtfully for a few moments before replying and then said with a half sigh, "you know, o father, that i myself did not particularly desire that marriage. from my earliest childhood i have been fond of my cousin and playfellow. as she matured i have admired, with family pride, her perfect beauty of form, her haughty spirit and her ability to rule. and yet, as you, who can so easily read the innermost secrets of the heart, must know i have not been able to discern the happiness for myself in this union that my soul would crave, or that you led me to expect in wedded love. if my ambition irresistibly impelled me to fill the external destinies of mankind, to become a monarch of unsurpassed power and magnificence, then would nu-nah be the royal consort absolutely adapted for such pride and pomp. but, you know, o father, all these things are as empty bubbles and child toys to one aspiring to become a priest king, to him who hungers and thirsts, day and night for wisdom, for knowledge of the more inner secrets of nature, guarded so jealously by the priesthood but revealed by the very gods themselves to those worthy to know and fit to use and assist in carrying out the plans and orderly workings of the very universe itself. "in form and feature nu-nah's image meets my highest ideal, but when i would speak of the thoughts and ambitions upon which my soul dwells, then her cold look of incomprehension appalls me with the vast difference in our natures. her thoughts can never penetrate the realm wherein my life-forces are all centered. never have i experienced from her the response my love would crave." "have you then never at any time felt that nu-nah's love for you could be trained and in time evolved to the plane whereby she would respond to you?" "nu-nah does not seem capable of the love of soul. she accepts me as a lover due her, and whose attention and presence gratify her pride and vanity. never once, or perhaps only once, have i ever seen or imagined i saw a recognition of love, and that was the night of the full moon, during the recent ceremonies. as, with your permission, i for a moment drew near the couch on which she reposed, she suddenly raised to a half-sitting position and seemed strangely startled by my presence. with a thrill of hope, that finally love was awakening, i sprang forward and spake anxiously and fondly to her. for the first time in all my life her glance vibrated to my heart's very core. my brain reeled with intoxication as she pressed my hand, and the love from her eyes burns now into my soul as i recall that one second of bliss. but, alas! she fell back into her former lifeless state and lingers so until i am in doubt if after all it were not some illusion connected with the wonderful magic of that night." "nay," said the hierophant, "i can assure you that what you experienced was _real_ and that if this matter reaches a successful issue you will henceforward find in nu-nah all that your soul desires, that ever will her eager spirit lead yours in the pursuit of knowledge and the highest wisdom." then the hierophant turning, mentally addressed sarthia, the unseen witness of the interview, "am i not right in making this pledge for you to rathunor? think you we have also fulfilled our promise that rathunor shall love you?" but her heart was too full to reply. he then directed her attention to her location and surroundings and for the first time she became aware with amazement, almost terror, that she was within "the sacred adytum--the holy of holies," while the hierophant and rathunor were within an adjoining court and private apartment of the high priest. "my child," said the hierophant in reply to her speechless inquiry as to the meaning of this wonder, "there are no barriers to the disembodied soul. this place, so religiously guarded, so inaccessible to the ordinary mortal, is open to any soul having passed a certain grade of initiation into the divine mysteries of nature and attained unto that purity of heart whereby man may see his god. "to-morrow night, on the occasion of the new moon, will be consecrated within this holy chamber, the union of your soul with that of rathunor's and here also will be consummated that mystic transfer between your soul and that of nu-nah's. "and now, i leave you here while i accompany rathunor. as you gradually lapse into the sweet silence of this holy place, observe the meaning of some of the stupendous mysteries of nature revealed here openly to the one having eyes to see and possessing the gift of understanding." her first sensation on being left alone was, that she was floating like the vapor of a breath upon the swaying wreaths of burning incense, and as she reclines thus in blissful repose there dawned upon her vision a view of the vast temple in its absolute entirety. it assumed the strange outline of a gigantic human body, all its intricacies becoming orderly correspondencies of the human organism in its multitudinous ramifications. then all the vast ceremonial of this body passed in review before her mind, each rite symbolic of some function, physical, mental and spiritual, and she marveled at the adaptability of the parts to each other and then to the grand whole. but, above all, was she impressed by the depth in depths of meaning of this sacred adytum in its symbolic relation to the whole structure. however, ere she could tarry to reflect, the nature of the vision changed as if her eye had been turned suddenly from the lense of a microscope to that of an immense telescope. before her view stretched the starry zodiac, in outline, the same as its prototype, the human body--the grand temple. the sun and its solar system corresponding to various vital functions in the human organism, but the crowning wonder of all came as she comprehended the relation which our planet, mother earth, bore to the grand man of the skies, and her soul was overwhelmed as all the implications of this relation rushed in upon her being. chapter v. the transfer. according to the calculations made by the chief astrologer priest it was just at midnight that the conjunction of the luminaries took place in the zodiacal sign belonging to the moon. this union of the luminous orbs of the day and night is powerfully magical in its results. the vibrations, set in motion by this mighty union of the positive and negative forces of nature, react, not only upon the waters and the earth, but the human family. not only does the mighty ocean obey this wonderful influence in the ebb and flow of its tides, but the earth, as she rotates upon her axis, obeys this mighty power and manifests in her depths and heights in her serpentine movement about the sun. nature's laws are very exact and man, to become the arbiter of his own destiny, must blend his energies in harmony with those of nature. agreeable to appointment and the arrangements to be made it was necessary for the hierophant and the holy men of the temple to assemble at an early hour, although the transfer was not to take place until midnight. much preparation was necessary as a most momentous ceremony was to be performed this night; one that rarely ever was performed, owing to the fact that few of the temple priests were initiated into these sacred magical rites. they were too sacred and holy to be imparted to many, too dangerous for possible failures, too infinite in responsibilities accompanying such undertakings. only those where the mind, soul and spirit, blended as one in their organism, were ever entrusted with the interior knowledge of the sacred adytum--the holy of holies. only the invocations were to be made, the chants and ceremonies belonging to the holy sanctuary were to be observed. the air was ladened with the sweet fragrance of incense and those subtle perfumes that are so delightful and enticing to the soul. hours before the solemn rites were to be performed, every part of the holy temple must be permeated with their magical and mystical influence. the bodies of both sarthia and nu-nah lay in state before the altar in the holy sanctuary, both robed and perfumed as if for burial. the hierophant of the temple, the priests and the lay priests, and the priestesses with their vestal virgins, were now assembled in their respective places. the hour of midnight had arrived. the chants now begun, set in vibration the spiritual forces that appeal only to the soul and spirit. the subtle, silent will of the high priest mentally commanded the presence of the departed spirit of sarthia. at his bidding, she came floating toward him, and when within a certain distance from her inanimate body, she remained hovering over it. most willingly and joyfully she came, knowing the promise of the high priest would be realized when she became able to animate and control the body and mind of what was still nu-nah's. rathunor was present at the urgent request of the priest. he little dreamed why his presence was so much desired, and how he, who was so ignorant of the temple rules and service, could be of any assistance. a spark had been kindled within his very soul, the night that sarthia found herself in nu-nah's temple and for a moment consciously remembered and spoke, that had been burning deeper and deeper until now, it was ready to burst forth as an ever-living flame at the first breath of hope that this new emotion was of the soul--real and immortal. did he dare for a moment listen to the whispering of the interior self? fear alone made him drive back and quell the monitions that sprang from within, for o, if they were only vain hopes could he survive the disappointment? the thought was crushing, and better, he thought, not to hope than believe an illusion. the magnetic chord that yet held nu-nah to her frail, prostrated body had not yet been severed. the unconscious soul hung or rather floated about its temple, apparently waiting for a stronger force from the interior realm to call it away. the hierophant stepped to the front of the altar and, raising his hands, invoked the presence of the gods and their assistance in this sacred ceremony of making that transfer of the spiritual life-line that binds the spirit to soul, and soul to body. as the two souls hung suspended by these magnetic life-chords above their own bodies, through the magical influences of the priests, the chants and music came closer and closer, as if drawn together by some strong magnetic attraction. sarthia, now, as well as nu-nah, was unconscious of what was taking place. nu-nah's was the natural unconscious state of an undeveloped soul in passing from the physical temple to the realms beyond, while sarthia's was purposely induced by the magical will of the operator. the middle of the mystical hour had just been reached when the two life-lines met and blended for one single instant, then separated and, obeying the powerful wills of the priests, became polarized in each other's body. the magical invisible agency that had been animating the body of sarthia was now withdrawn, and the soul of nu-nah's gradually but faintly began to supply the animating force to revive and control the apparently lifeless form. sarthia's spiritual consciousness was not immediately allowed to return. the awakening must be gradual to her, for knowing what was being done, the joy and ecstacy of a prolonged life in the holy bonds of pure love with rathunor would be disastrous if suddenly conveyed to her consciousness. the high priest, turning to rathunor, said, "our beloved pupil, return now to your usual duties, but fail not to return to the temple a little before twelve o'clock to-morrow night." now the bodies of sarthia and nu-nah were removed to another part of the temple. the priestesses and vestals, with the choir and musicians, were dismissed as the first part of the solemn and sacred rites was over, but the priests remained, never stopping in their magical work, for yet the vibrations of the new-born souls were not of sufficient strength and power to remain unassisted, especially that of nu-nah's. chapter vi. the awakening. the constant presence of some of the priests of the temple had been near the bodies of nu-nah and sarthia continuously for the last twenty-four hours, and by their magic assistance the vibrations of the souls to their new tenements grew stronger and quite harmonious. the hour of midnight was again near at hand. the reviving forms of the two young girls were again brought into the holy sanctuary of the temple and placed in front of the altar and the hierophant who had already taken his position. the priestesses of the temple with their vestals were quietly and solemnly wending their way to their usual places. the choir had begun to chant the opening service when rathunor with one of the priests approached with slow and measured strides as if a false movement would disturb the solemnity of this midnight's mystic silence. as they approached the spot where the two bodies lay, there was a perceptible movement, as of consciousness in the silent form of nu-nah. just as the distant chimes pealed forth their announcement of the midnight hour the hierophant arose and stepped forth to the front of the altar and, at a silent signal, there broke forth, as of one voice, the low-distant strains of the most enchanting music. the voices and the tones from the musical instruments were so harmoniously and wonderfully blended that the result was magically effective. the strains increased in volume--they seemed to approach nearer and nearer--until the whole edifice resounded and re-echoed as though filled with one vast orchestra sounding forth the anthem of creative life, "we praise thee, o god." this enchanting music continued for some time, then gently died away until only the breathings of music could be heard, when the hierophant raised his hands as if in supplication. the solemn, awful stillness of the hour was awe-inspiring. once, twice, thrice, the voice of the hierophant resounded throughout the sanctuary as he thus spoke to their souls: "arise, o ye daughter of isis, come forth and again enter the daily lives of a vestal and a princess. many years now are granted to your service, and now that you have both been beyond the dividing line of this and the other plane, your lives henceforth should be guided and influenced by that experience." at this he descended from the altar and took the helpless hand of sarthia to magically convey to the silent, lifeless body the electric forces of life. turning to rathunor, who stood near, beckoning him to his side, he took his hand and led him to that which _was_ nu-nah's body, and gently raising the apparently lifeless hand of the silent form placed it within that of rathunor's. the effect was indeed magical. rathunor was held spell-bound, the thrilling sensations, the emotions that sprang forth from the heart were electrifying. he could feel the tense vibrations passing from his hand to that of her body, the source of which he could not fathom nor understand, and little did he care at that moment when he perceived the slight tremor that was creeping over the heretofore lifeless form of his princess nu-nah. here, rathunor would have been overcome by his emotions of joyful bliss and thrown himself prostrate at the feet of the priest in thankful gratitude for the restoration to life of his lovely nu-nah, had not the hierophant just at this moment laid his hand upon rathunor's shoulder saying, "my child, have you become unconscious of the place and the occasion, and the solemn promise you gave me to bravely follow my instructions without a show of weakness. let not an outward manifestation of your feelings escape you again. are you yourself again?" with a mighty effort of his will rathunor commanded an outward calm at least, but he could not speak, he could only bow his head in assurance and being told to retain the hand of nu-nah, the priest continued audibly, "in the name of the almighty and ever-living god i now join these two souls as one. may their consciousness of this, their soul-union, dawn upon their outward memory as time proceeds, and then journey together in conscious union on the eternal path of progress to the divine throne of god. amen! amen!" rathunor heard but did not understand and being overcome by the silent over-powering influence surrounding him, fell insensible to the floor beside the reviving form of nu-nah. as soon as he had been conveyed to an outer court, the hierophant again continued. turning his attention to sarthia, mentally he called three times, "nu-nah, nu-nah, nu-nah, henceforth you shall be known as sarthia the vestal. may the guardian angels that have been placed over your reviving body, keep and hold the soul with it until health of body and strength of mind returns. god bless our new-found vestal. amen." as the last echo of the priest's voice died away the music burst in a joyful song of praise, and continued until the bodies of each of the young girls were removed. sarthia's to that formerly occupied by the vestal, and nu-nah's to that of the home of the princess. rathunor soon revived in the fresh air of the outer court and now being summoned by a messenger from the hierophant presented himself again before him. "my son," said the high priest, "go to the home of the princess and remain, either with, or near her until three cycles of seven shall pass by. at the end of twenty-one days you may return to your own home and enter the accustomed life of a prince, until that time shall come when the prince of the world shall enter the path that leads to a king of wisdom," and with a fervent press of the hand and a benediction for his soul's welfare he bid him good-night and retired from the holy sanctuary. chapter vii. a visit to the chief astrologer. a few weeks after the preceding ceremonies, a messenger announced to the astrologer priest that the priestess sought an interview. hermo was at his post making the usual, daily calculations for the priest. as the priestess entered, hermo arose, and was about to withdraw, when the priestess, by a wave of her hand, gave him to understand his presence was required. the priestess began, "o, most venerated father, i come again to ask assistance, with your astrological knowledge, in behalf of sarthia. the memory of the past seems to be entirely blotted out. is there any aspect showing that memory will return, and if not, at what time do the planets indicate a commencement of the training of the mind that will bring a successful issue in spiritual things? we will have to commence with her as a child and train the body, mind and soul to vestal service." the astrologer turned to hermo and said, "hear you the request of our priestess here? make note, and see at what time the planets point favorably to the initiation of our new sarthia into the temple service of isis." "how is our new sarthia?" inquired the priest. "nothing, as yet," answered the priestess, "but that does not disturb my hope and faith that she will become all that we wish and desire of her, and instead of having but one vestal we shall have two, for ere long nu-nah will also be numbered among our vestals, and rathunor as one of our priests." thanking the priest for his promised service the priestess withdrew. the astrologer returned to his studies and was soon absorbed with them, when, suddenly he turned to hermo and said, "hermo, i shall place sarthia under your special tutelage as soon as she is ready to commence her studies in astrology." the suddenness of the priest's remarks quite confused the young scribe and set him to seriously thinking. strange thoughts came into his mind, "why should sarthia _not_ continue her studies with me, why would she become a special and _not_ a fellow student?" he could not account for these strange thoughts that had been excited within his mind, and the rest of the hours of work did not show the usual amount accomplished. at an early hour the next night, before hermo had arrived for his night's work, the astrologer priest sent for the priestess. she hastily responded to the summons feeling there was some very important news to be received. as soon as she entered the priest said, "most noble priestess, i find by the calculations made, that not before another month may our infant child, sarthia, be initiated, as a pupil, into the temple of isis. two days before the full moon the spiritual rays will be most active and potent, and being of so harmonious a nature we may hope for the most satisfactory results. the task will be slow and require much patience, my priestess, for the hereditary tendencies of the brain, that have so far influenced that soul's life and experiences, will have to be polarized in other channels and gradually awakened to consciousness. the life of the body it has been animating in past years was not of such a nature as to mature a healthy soul. "the work now, with our new sarthia, is with the soul, to make it equal to the brain that has been cultivated and enlarged in spiritual ways; while with nu-nah, the work will be in arousing and developing that brain to the conscious response of the matured soul. do i make myself plain to you? in my young pupil, hermo, we will have a most valuable assistant in our work with sarthia, for i have discovered that the divine relation of brother and sister exists between them. they are blest with being the emanations from the same divine state and children of the same spiritual parents. i spoke to hermo of sarthia last night, at the same time _willing_ that my new discovery might be imparted to his soul, which i could see had been partially accomplished. "we will allow them often in each other's society, and that holy love of brother of sister, and sister of brother, which can only be kindled in the outer heart when this spiritual relation exists. "this will soon be recognized by each of them, and this alone will be a most potent influence in nourishing and teaching the soul of sarthia. nothing lies in sarthia's path that portends serious evil for many years to come. therefore, my good priestess, take new hope and courage, and not many moons will grow and wane before an inward pride will be born for your new vestal." the priestess retired after thanking him most cordially, and could hardly conceal her emotions of joy and rapture until she was safe in her own apartments, where she could give full vent, in tears and cries of joy and gratitude. as soon as all traces of the effects, which this knowledge had produced, were erased, and she became perfectly calm and composed, she sought sarthia's chamber. the young girl was reclining upon a couch that had been drawn near the window, apparently much absorbed in studying the heavens. scarcely did she notice the presence of the priestess until she knelt beside her and said, "what thoughts are being born in my sarthia's mind as she views the mighty heavens above with its millions of silent monitors, awaiting our pleasure to read and understand? are they speaking to my darling child? do you hear their silent voices and feel their subtle and powerful influences upon you?" the young girl did not reply immediately. the body was still very weak and feeble, the mind was as one just awakening from a prolonged slumber. "my beloved priestess, did you speak to me of the stars, those loving lights in the heavens? they do seem to speak, but i can not understand and know what they say. do you, dear mother, and can you tell me?" this first ray of awakening memory was more radiant to the priestess than a thousand stars could have produced if all their rays could have blended into one. but calmness was her external bearing. seldom any manifestation of an unusual emotion, was permitted to find an outward expression either in manner or speech. she had attained that perfect command of herself that neither joy nor sorrow, good nor evil, praise nor blame, could unbalance the perfect poise and tranquillity of her developed soul. "my sarthia," replied the priestess, "i can not know what they are saying to _you_, but they do speak to me. they tell me that life is immortal, that the growth and the progress of the soul are eternal, that we may know and read their language while in these bodies if we try; then as we draw nearer and nearer to them, as our souls grow and become familiar with their teachings, we can know them as well, if not better, than our astrologer priests do, also as well as your brother hermo is learning to do." "my--brother--hermo," and there was a perceptible light of intelligence in the eyes for a moment. the priestess was not speaking to the mind, but to the soul, at the same time willing to find a response there. the mere words availed nothing to her, only in so much as they expressed the longings and desires of the interior self. as sarthia said no more, the priestess arose and, moving quietly about the room, gave a few directions and cautions to those in attendance, then presently withdrew. that night was passed by the priestess in her own private chamber, not in sleep and rest, but actively and earnestly engaged in silent prayer for her new-born children, nu-nah, sarthia and rathunor. chapter viii. princess nu-nah. the morning following the priestess' visit to sarthia's apartments, she sent a messenger to inquire for the welfare of princess nu-nah. she was reported to have slept well, seemed much stronger, but a peculiar change had taken place during her almost fatal illness. she spoke strangely, almost weirdly at times, which excited much comment and anxiety amongst her immediate friends and relatives. the princess had been a general favorite and much admired by those occupying the same station in life with herself; but by those who were subject to her commands and rule, she was looked upon as cold, stern, and heartless, kind in her way when obeyed, but the slightest disobedience brought scornful reproaches and often punishment. the priestess, knowing the source of the peculiar change spoken of, felt that all was well. no other attention than the presence of rathunor was needed. the developed soul of the vestal sarthia would soon come into control of the brain she was now trying to find expression through. then, too, the organs of the brain that sarthia's soul would naturally vibrate, had never become active, nor developed; they, as it were, were dormant, fast asleep, awaiting the pulsating vibrations of the spiritual influx to give them life and usefulness. while those that had been so fully developed in the brain, by the life of the princess, found no corresponding vibrations from the soul. truly, a strange commingling of the two opposing forces, and one in which time was required to bring about perfect adjustment. the high priest had commanded all visitors to be excluded, except rathunor, who was to have access at all times, and as the hierophant's word was that of god to them, so, purely from a religious standpoint, they were strictly obeyed. while the priestess and others of the temple knew the secret of the priest's strict injunctions, they likewise knew that none of sarthia's associates dared approach, lest their presence would too suddenly awake to consciousness the slumbering soul, before the brain had yet fully responded and vibrated to the new animating spark of life. rathunor, most of all, observed the change in the princess; at the slightest touch there was a response within--his very presence struck the chords of sympathy that existed between them. this was, to him, a very unaccountable change. in all his life association with nu-nah these emotions, that now seemed to spring from the soul, had never before been experienced. he was very much inclined to attribute it to an abnormal sympathy aroused by her sickness and terrible suffering. still, the words of the high priest haunted him and the feelings born from within, on the night of the solemn rites at the temple, could not be vanished by any amount of reasoning; still he would not allow such thoughts to be nourished by the slightest hope--much less be watered by the spirit of faith and allowed to grow. although rathunor was brave in external pain, and daringly courageous in acts of chivalry, he was an infant when subject to disappointment. here was the battle of self going on. "have i the strength and manly courage to bear the disappointment born from a delusive hope? not yet." so he suffered and heeded not the whisperings from within, until he could not endure it any longer, when he sought the presence of the hierophant for advice and enlightenment. scarcely able to hold in check his impatience he burst forth without the recognition due the superior presence of a high priest. "o, most holy and revered father, tell me, am i wrong in not listening to the monitions that are racking my inmost being? may i hope the love that is growing within my soul will be surely recognized and reciprocated by nu-nah on her return to physical health? is this love a vain delusion on my part, an imagination born from sympathies that will vanish as soon as health is restored and we enter the whirl of the social world again? if it is in thy power, o father, tell me the truth. repeat thy assuring words once more, and i will be guided by them in the future, and never again allow the shadow of doubt to cross the threshold of my mind." "my child," said the high priest, "once more i assure you of the loving response of nu-nah's soul and mind, as soon as she is herself again. but, mark you well, at the return of consciousness, be not rash in any of your words or acts; remember, her return to life is as a new-born babe--weak, tender and easily impressed by stronger minds and wills than its own. you are the stronger at present, and all patience and indulgence are exacted from you. let her imaginations and fancies play as they will for awhile; yours must be calm, loving, sympathetic and unwavering in hope and faith that all will eventually be well; and again, i assure you that not many years shall pass before you will enter the path and the life your soul is now longing for. princess nu-nah will more than compensate you for all the kind attentions you now bestow upon her in the guiding, teaching and leading your soul in the paths to spiritual knowledge and the spiritual life, while still inhabiting the physical form. "the hungerings of your soul shall be more than satisfied by her ministering spirit. the interior consciousness will gradually dawn upon you both, but to nu-nah first." then, taking rathunor by the hand, he continued, "doubt no more, my child, have faith in the infinite wisdom that guides and directs the struggling soul through the intricate ways of evolution up to the final consciousness of immortal life. god be with and bless you." rathunor had no words to express his gratitude. but they would have been useless to the hierophant, for the new-born light that shone forth, though dimly, was more to the priest than a world of words. he merely looked, bowed, and with a fervent pressure of the hand, was gone from the presence of the holy priest. as he retraced his steps toward the home of princess nu-nah, a holy calm pervaded his whole being; his doubts fled as an enemy; his excitement was transformed into tranquil earnestness; a sublime sense of the realities of life filled his brain, and a willingness to await the progress and development, that time would bring forth and mature, possessed him, until he was so changed that he scarcely recognized himself. was this change volitional? chapter ix. the initiation. days of weary watching, and toilsome care that the new-born vestal would not be misled in her awakening thoughts, were necessary. the body needed but little care other than the proper nourishment and attention of any one in usual health. sarthia's physical organism had not become depleted by disease and suffering, and the disorganization that had commenced was checked by the magical agent that had been placed over it, even before sarthia had entirely left it. the lethargy was more mental than physical. it was that semi-consciousness that precedes sleep, or that one sometimes experiences when awakened suddenly out of a deep, profound slumber. the priestess visited her many times throughout the day when she could spare the time from her duties in the temple. in the course of a few days sarthia was able to be assisted in short walks about the halls and corridors, but took little heed of things about her. day by day, the body grew stronger and a new light began to dawn in the eyes and shone upon the countenance of the fair young girl. in the meantime, hermo had been apprised by the astrologer priest of the true relation existing between himself and sarthia. his joy knew no bounds, for neither his heart nor soul had ever thrilled with the love of mother, sister, or kindred. it had been his misfortune to be deprived of his parents before his young mind and heart could be moved by the tender emotions of love, but now it needed no more than the priest's revelations to kindle into flaming fires that something, he knew not what, that had been smoldering in his bosom all his life. now, the astrologer's words were clear and the cause of the strange thoughts that were excited in his mind was revealed. over and over he asked himself, "can i wait to see my beloved sister?" his impatience became equal with his joy, and days that had before passed as moments now seemed as ages. one morning, much to the priestess' surprise, a messenger announced that hermo desired an interview with her in the waiting-room below. the priestess descended to where hermo was waiting and, with a questioning look in her face, clasped his hand in a firm but anxious manner, inquired, "is all well with our young astrologer, hermo, this morning. does he bring tidings from our revered father? has any new testimony been given by the stars that portends evil to our sarthia?" hermo stood in mute astonishment. "how could the priestess receive such forebodings from his presence when his whole being was throbbing with pulsations of unbounded happiness," he thought. "nay, my dear priestess, quite the reverse. has not our worthy father acquainted you with my new-found joy, my love--my sister? know you not the divine relation that exists between sarthia and myself? the hours have seemed days since this knowledge was revealed to me and i now beg to see my new sister and walk with her and yourself upon the lawn in the private grounds of the temple. can my request be granted, o priestess?" she still retained his hand and, again pressing it warmly between her own, said, "our brave and noble hermo deserves this blessing as a reward for his honest toil alone in his struggle for truth and knowledge. yes, my dear hermo, i was made aware of the relation between you and our new sarthia and have been anxious for this moment to arrive when you would be sent to escort sarthia in her daily walks about the grounds, but i caution you to be guarded in your words. remember she is yet but an infant and must be taught as a child. remain here and i will go and bring sarthia thither and we will walk together." it was not long before the priestess, sarthia and her attendant appeared. the priestess was leading sarthia and as they approached hermo placed her hand in that of his saying, "sarthia, i place you in the care and protection of your brother hermo." "hermo! hermo!! my brother hermo?" said sarthia. to the penetrating eyes of the priestess and hermo the light of consciousness was momentarily seen and to the clairvoyant vision of the priestess a startling scene was beheld. the vibrations of soul to soul, the love that had been kindled in hermo's heart and soul went out with such intensity that it aroused into a vivid activity the slumbering soul of sarthia, and the brain, being already so finely tuned to the higher vibrations of the spirit, responded at once. the fresh air, the green grass, the beautiful flowers and shrubbery, with the inspiring presence of hermo, were like magic to quicken the pulsations of body and mind and bring to her cheek and eyes the flush of health and life. not much of the conversation was directed to sarthia, but when reference to the stars was made, she instantly inquired, "brother hermo, do the stars speak to you, and do you know what they say? our lovely priestess here can read them, and how much i would love to speak with them, too." "i will teach you how some day, my sister, as soon as you are able to commence your studies." "will that be soon?" "yes, in a short time; so soon as you become an attendant in the temple of isis." * * * * * sarthia was silent, and the priestess reminded them it was time to return,--sarthia to her room and hermo to his studies, while the priestess' presence was required in the temple. * * * * * these walks continued daily with most satisfactory results to the priestess and the hierophant. all fears of the perfect harmonizing of the new soul to the body of sarthia were allayed. the animating spark of life was growing stronger and the vibrations from soul to body were complete; not with consciousness, but that involuntary vibratory exchange that exists with the majority of the people that make up the earth's human family. as only the higher portion of the brain of sarthia had been active the soul must necessarily manifest itself through those organs. often, were the much beloved priestess, hermo and sarthia's attendants, surprised at her expressions and profound questions on spiritual subjects. it was nearing the time when sarthia was to take her initiatory step as a vestal in the temple of isis. in fact, only one more day intervened before the ceremony was to take place. as the incidents relative to the transfer were known to all the temple attendants, it was looked forward to with much silent rejoicing and gratitude that they had not been robbed of their lovely vestal who always was held in sacred esteem by them all. all had been notified to prepare for the initiatory service--the music, chants, and ceremonies sacred to this occasion, must be in readiness. the night had arrived; the fair goddess of the night shone forth in all her radiant splendor, seemingly conscious, that she was shedding forth the magnetic influence necessary for the sacred rites now about to be performed. it had almost reached the zenith when the solemn march of the priestesses, vestals and attendants that were to conduct sarthia to the holy sanctuary of the temple started. the priestess walked beside sarthia. sarthia was clothed in pure spotless linen, her head was bare with the exception of a wreath of laurel leaves that rested lightly upon her flowing hair. in her hands she carried a white-bound volume which contained the songs, chants, litany and regime for the vestals of the temple. just as they reached the door, the high priest arose, and simultaneously the music burst forth in joyful strains that spoke welcome, courage and love to the heart of sarthia. when they reached the foot of the altar, where stood the hierophant, sarthia knelt upon a velvet cushion at his feet. the music ceased while the high priest stood with uplifted hands in silent prayer. at a signal, the choir began chanting the litany. sarthia was bidden to rise, when the priest, in measured and solemn tones, addressed her: "do you come to pledge yourself to temple service? is it your desire to become a vestal of isis? do you take the pledge of celibacy to the virgin rites of the temple; your time, energy and purpose to be devoted to the duties that devolve upon a vestal?" the low, clear voice of sarthia was heard throughout the sanctuary as she bowed and answered in assent. "so be it, my holy virgin. i now commit your soul to the guardian angels of this sacred sanctuary to guide, guard and protect your budding soul to perfect at-one-ment with its divine center, that you may inherit immortal life while yet with us. amen!" sarthia opened the book within her hands and, kissing its pages which she had already subscribed to, handed it to the high priest. he took it, and held it in his left, while he placed his right hand upon her head, and said: "i bid thee welcome, my vestal sarthia, and commend thy soul to the gods above, that ever keep watch o'er the children of earth. god bless thee. amen! amen!" then, as if they were voicing the words of the hierophant, the chants grew louder, the music poured forth in grander tones as though to join the invisible hosts above in praise to god most high. the ceremony was over and sarthia was conducted back to her chamber, a vestal of the temple of isis. the occult powers that had been evoked in behalf of sarthia soon became manifest in her daily life. the zeal and zest with which she pursued her studies and the understanding of their interior meanings were sufficient evidence of her teacher's inspiring influence. she was soon placed under her brother hermo's instruction in astronomical and astrological lore, and here also displayed a proficiency in learning that surprised hermo and delighted the astrologer priests. at temple service she was all devotion and, as an attendant, ever true and faithful. the brother and sister became devotedly attached to each other and the priestess often observed this attachment, which sent a pang through her heart, lest such joy and happiness might not be granted hermo for the remainder of his life. then instantly would she offer a silent prayer that such supreme happiness would be theirs throughout eternity. chapter x. the princess' wedding. the princess' recovery was very slow, owing to the great depletion of the physical body during her recent illness. much care and attention were bestowed upon her by her royal friends. all the luxury which wealth alone could procure, and the kindly influences of loving associates were brought to bear to speedily hasten the restoration of their princess to her former health and spirits. health was slowly but surely gaining the ascendency, but the spirits of heart and mind were not of that buoyant, external nature that she formerly displayed. with her return to health, demands of a social nature were made upon her. she enjoyed pleasures but a seriousness attended her every movement that much annoyed her friends. the attendants and servants were excited to wonder at her kind and thoughtful interests of them--while many thought it was due to her weak physical condition, others remarked, how much the princess' sickness had improved her. those that before feared her, now began to love and seek to please and serve her. rathunor was a daily visitor, and remembering the advice and instructions of the hierophant he was calm, silent, and patient in his attentions to her and apparently took no heed of her fancies and strange conversation. she would constantly plan amusements and social entertainments on a grand scale, but with such a seriousness of purpose that it quite annoyed rathunor at times and caused him to wonder if this was really his former nu-nah. while the annoyance came purely from the external, there was an interior attraction that was, irresistibly, holding him spell-bound to her side. his happiness now was greatest when they sat, rode or walked in silence. little did he dream, while in that silence which so enraptured him, the soul of nu-nah was blending and drawing the electric life-essence from his own to hers. that interchange was going on wherein there is no robbery, but an inter-blending of the magnetic and electric life-forces that cause to spring into activity the harmonious vibrations of a complete whole, and the reaction upon both brain and the physical organism was health, contentment and happiness that rises above all external cares, sorrows and discords. although the soul of the, now known, princess was highly developed it could find but few responsive echoes from the dormant spiritual organs of the brain. these she must arouse to sensitiveness and action. it was this that gave rise to the peculiar ideas, expressed in her conversation, that so mystified her friends. visitors soon began to pour in upon her congratulations, presents and invitations to once again enter the gilded salons of fashion and the round of amusements that are the daily life of a favorite princess. to all she gave a modest, quiet reply, neither accepting nor rejecting their attentions, which left them in wondering doubt at times of her sanity. in the midst of some grand occasion she would be suddenly missed and on being sought out would be found concealed in some pleasant nook, or even out in the open air, or beside an open window, absorbed in meditation or gazing into the heavens. when her attention was attracted she would start and, with a strange, far-away look in her eyes that would indicate to a superficial observer she had been asleep, would allow herself to be led back and enter the festivities of the hour. with all their efforts they could not enthuse her with the excitement and merriment surrounding her. but, if any one should become serious and express thoughts that appealed to the interior, she was all attention and the questions that were so ready when such an opportunity afforded showed plainly that, although present in body, the soul and interests were in other realms and spheres than this. no one but rathunor could hold her attention for any length of time. with him she was animated, and charmingly beautiful and joyous and would, with some enthusiasm, enter into the pleasantries of the hour which brought to her face the charming attraction of natural beauty. behind those orbs of vision there seemed to shine forth a light that was more radiant than the gorgeously brilliant illuminations of the salons. her beautiful face, her perfect form and bearing, made her the center of attraction and she was much sought after. but, as soon as she was induced to leave rathunor's side, that which made her presence so irresistibly attractive and radiant before, faded out. thus time passed on, and as health returned, prince rathunor pressed his suit. there was now, no apparent reason why he could not claim his promised bride and make the princess nu-nah his own. his more earnest friends cautioned him to wait further developments and, in an undertone, reminded him of the peculiar and unnatural bearing of the princess at times. they were sure, in time, their once lovely princess would be herself again. rathunor listened, knowing their kindly interest sprang from good motives, but he was silent--he could not speak for none would understand. the yearnings of his heart and soul would not be quelled by any outward show. while to the world nu-nah was a source of mystical wonder, to rathunor she was his stay and comfort. he needed no further evidence and assurance of nu-nah's love for him. too often had he experienced the response from within to her silent pleadings for light, truth and wisdom. the attraction of the outer world was losing its fascination for him, the longings from within grew stronger and more clamorous for outward expression until, one day, he advanced the subject of astrology to the princess nu-nah. for an instant, her whole being was illuminated by that mysterious light--for a single moment the soul arose to the supremacy of the brain and found a faint glimmering expression that was visible to rathunor's ever-watchful eye. "astrology, my rathunor, fascinates me with its name and the wonders and mysteries it is said to reveal. do you think those astrologer priests of the temple know whereof they speak, and do they read the stars and gain from them the wisdom they are said to possess?" here was the first opportunity to present these sacred subjects to nu-nah's mind. he tried to think and, feeling that the present excitement of the brain's higher organs, was of a temporary nature, he was really at a loss what to say that would be most effective and impress itself indelibly upon her awakening brain. "yes, my dear nu-nah, i believe they do possess the knowledge they claim and, i also am convinced that much of that wisdom and knowledge is gained through their understanding the laws of astrology. those celestial bodies in our heavens were not placed there by our divine creator without a purpose. i believe they have an influence upon us that can be learned, defined and utilized by those who study and know this influence through astronomy and astrology. nu-nah what is that which produces the interior longings to know? is it not that there is something to know--something that our common brains can not grasp and analyze? do you not think that silent, yet persistent, monitor which lies concealed somewhere within our being is excited to action from some source other than our outward selves, and that longing to go out must be accounted for by a something without that calls and attracts us to it? may this not be the stars that we see twinkling and motioning to us as we gaze into the midnight heavens?" he stopped, wondering what the effect of his words would be, when, to his amazement, there appeared a more vivid consciousness in her eyes and features than he had ever seen since her return to physical health and, taking new hope from this manifestation, he continued, "do you love the social world longer? is there not that longing, too, within your bosom for something more real, more ennobling than the pastimes of worldly pleasures?" at the mention of the worldly things, the light from her eyes died out and was gone. rathunor said no more but silently thanked god that he had for those few moments assisted the soul of nu-nah to vibrate, too; and had set in motion the vitalizing currents to the spiritual portion of the brain and earnestly prayed that this might be the beginning of many opportunities that were to follow. realizing that only he could arouse the dormant organs of her spiritual brain, he became more anxious than ever to have her constantly in his company. he again pressed his suit and the day for the wedding-nuptials was to be at once submitted to the astrologer. rathunor again sought the astrologer priest for advice. he wished to know when the stars would point most favorably toward such a momentous event. this, the astrologer was not long in finding out and soon conveyed the news to rathunor that at an early date such might be consummated. as the prince arose to go the priest took his hand and said, "my child, in taking the princess nu-nah as your wife, you obey the holy intuitions of the soul and not only will you be united in soul but in body and mind. i wish you the eternal bliss that attends all who are truly mated. farewell, my child; my blessings go with you." rathunor was too much absorbed in other things to understand the mysterious words of the priest, but notwithstanding this the seed had been again sown that would sometime spring up unannounced and unexpected. the announcement of the wedding was soon made and invitations sent out, far and near. congratulations poured in from every source, although some would have refused, had they been true to their own sentiments, for the remarkable and unaccountable change which had taken place during her terrible malady was too evident to be altogether right and should be righted before the prince should make the princess his wife. rathunor was satisfied, never forgetting the hierophant's sacred words, and none other need be consulted. in their silent hearts they wished the wedding might be private and the holy ceremony of the temple be performed by the high priest. this, of course, could not be owing to the station and position they occupied in life, for the lives of a princess and prince are not wholly their own, so to the public they must bow and pay obeisance. preparations for the wedding commenced at once, for it was to be a grand affair. nothing was to be spared that would add beauty and grandeur to the occasion. extravagant expenditures were indulged in, until money seemed at a loss to supply more. the trousseau was exquisitely magnificent and, on the wedding night, the beaming radiance of the countenance of the princess was neither dimmed by the rich silks, nor the rare, priceless laces and lovely jewels that glittered and sparkled with the living spark of life within them, that adorned her form. never a bride so fair; never a couple so happy. it was that quiet, subtle happiness, which permeates the very atmosphere about them and leaves its traces in every susceptible heart that breathes it. chapter xi. the retirement. after the wedding the prince and princess were, from necessity, drawn within the whirl of social pleasures with attentions in the way of entertainments, court suppers, balls, drawing-room receptions, etc. the interior longings were compelled to creep into the background until the external was gratified to exhaustion. the princess' seriousness departed for a time and they were very happy in the round of pleasures that were planned for them. but as time sped on they began to grow weary of the show, pomp and shallowness of external life. the seeds that had been sown in rathunor's heart and brain, and that which he had aroused in nu-nah's slumbering, spiritual organs of her brain, had taken root and now began to spring forth into activity, first as weariness of the superficial pleasures of society, then a desire to gradually withdraw from this life into a more quiet and secluded one, where they might listen to the inner voices and gain pleasure, as well as knowledge, from this source. the prince anxiously awaited another opportunity for speaking to princess nu-nah on spiritual subjects. the hierophant had given him to understand that at no distant day nu-nah would become interested in spiritual things and be his teacher. he had not been made aware of the transfer--that was to be revealed to him by nu-nah herself. he had begun to wonder how and where nu-nah's spiritual awakening would take place when an opportunity presented itself in a most unexpected manner. one lovely evening they were taking a stroll about the grounds of their castle, when the full moon arose in a flood of light, it rose higher, fuller, until the whole world seemed bathed in her magical beauty and in order to longer enjoy her light and magnetic influence the prince suggested a longer walk. unconsciously they chose the path that led them towards the temple, which was only a short distance from their home. as they neared the temple distant strains of music attracted their attention. they listened, and it seemed to speak in the plaintive tones of a hungering soul; they hastened their steps until they had quite reached the private grounds of the temple of isis, nu-nah was in advance of rathunor, being irresistibly drawn by some invisible power, when she suddenly stopped and clasping his arm, as within a vice, cried out, "my rathunor, do you hear that music; what is it? i have heard it before, but where, o, where? how came i to know the chants and music of the temple service?" they were held spell-bound to the spot, when the prince was warned, by the trembling and the gradual loosening of nu-nah's hand upon his arm, to quit the spot at once. the prince placed his arm about her waist to support her as he urged their return home, but she stood immovable apparently chained by the magical power of some invisible force. stronger grew the mystical power of the spell until the princess seemed compelled to rush madly on and into the temple, if the prince had not held her back in a firm grasp, and at the same time trying to attract her attention by his words. "come, my darling, let us retrace our steps and as we walk i will tell you all i know about what you have heard." "o, my rathunor, speak to me quickly before i have time to forget. i can not remember this long, yet it as a recurrence of a vivid dream. tell me while i am awake, where i have been. i saw, and felt, and know i was there--there in the sacred sanctuary of that temple. o, that i might go again and remain there forever to listen to that enchanting music and the solemn heavenly voices of that choir." a quiver ran through her whole frame and with a mournful cry she fell fainting in the arms of rathunor. here his innate born courage and bravery sustained him, and instantly there flashed into his mind the words he had once heard the high priest use while passing his hands over an insensible form. so, gently laying her inanimate body upon the grass, he repeated in slow, but firm and commanding tones these words: "return, o soul, to thy physical body. return, i command thee, and reanimate this lifeless tenement of your soul. come, come, i command thee, come." scarcely had the last words been uttered when a movement of the hands and limbs announced to rathunor the return of life. she was soon able to rise and, being supported by the prince, they slowly wended their way back to the castle. she walked as in a dream, but as her step was stately and firm, the prince did not become alarmed until he had her safe in her room, when the extent of the occurrence dawned upon him and then he hurriedly called her maid and sent at once to dispatch a servant for their physician. nu-nah had become quite herself before the doctor came and after he had administered a little palliative, withdrew saying, "the princess will soon be well. it was only the result of fatigue induced by the constant excitement of social pleasures." the prince was silent and, seeing the princess was so comfortable, he retired to his own apartments with strict injunctions, he should be notified at once if any symptoms of the prostration should appear. when once within his private chamber he threw himself down in a chair and fell into a profound study. over and over he reviewed the incidents of the evening. "what was there in that music that so enchanted nu-nah? what did she see and hear that revived a faint memory of something in the past? what magical force was it that drew her so irresistibly toward the temple? what produced that quiver which preceded her falling insensible into his arms?" he was half inclined to blame the priests for it all, for he knew something of the power of magic and its psychologic effect. the more he reasoned the farther he wandered from a solution. now he mused, "if that had been the beautiful vestal, sarthia, i could understand why she would be so powerfully attracted to the temple, but nu-nah, who had never entered the holy sanctuary except for those sacred rites that are administered to all who are supposed to be bordering on the land of the spiritual world; only those two nights, to his knowledge, had she ever been in the sacred sanctuary; there was something in those ceremonies that he had not as yet understood; there must have been some mystical, magical power employed to restore the frail, feeble, unconscious nu-nah to life and health and, to him." he thought and reasoned until his brain was on fire, and still no solution of the mystery was presented to his understanding. "well," he at last exclaimed, so loud that he startled himself, "i will have to accept it as a mystery and patiently wait time's own pleasure for the explanation." he began to prepare for retiring, but he could not calm himself--a restlessness took possession of him that he could not quell; he walked the floor, tried to read, and resorted to many ways to restore his tranquillity, but all in vain. "i must see my nu-nah once more before i can sleep," and, hurriedly readjusting the clothing he had removed, he repaired to the princess' private room. a gentle knock brought the attendant to the door. "is the princess quiet and sleeping," he inquired in a whisper. "no," answered the servant. "she is awake and feeling well, and just now remarked, that if she thought you were not sleeping she would have you called for she had something she wished to tell you." his presence was at once made known to the princess, and, with a low cry of delight, she called him to her side. a signal sent the attendant from the room, when the princess began, "my rathunor, my beloved husband, i am so glad you came. i have something to tell you that i might forget before morning. to-night, when we came within the sound of the music in the temple, i felt as if i left my body and you, and by some unknown power was drawn into the sacred sanctuary. i saw the high priest, the lovely mother priestess, the vestals, the choir and musicians, all earnestly engaged in some holy ceremony. the music, the heavenly spiritual influence of the atmosphere, the exquisite fragrance of incense and perfumes, with the purity reflected by the vestal attendants, so enraptured and enthralled me that the thought that i would ever have to leave its sacred boundaries caused me to lose consciousness and, when i awoke, you were bending over me." seeing a strange look in rathunor's eyes and interpreting it to mean jealousy, she continued, "but that was not all, my rathunor; you were there, too, for awhile. i tried to keep you, but could not--something drew you away from _me_ and i, for an instant, suffered the same pangs that are torturing your heart now. i thought you would rather go than stay, and a feeling of jealousy entered my heart, but the strange fascination of the place was more to me at that instant than you, my rathunor, so i longed to stay but could not. i have been trying to think what it all means. you must help me for already i feel the memory of the event passing away." she ceased speaking, and in a few moments was fast asleep. the prince kissed the hand he held, then gently laid it by her side and quietly left the room fully conscious that the mystery had been partially revealed, and that now the princess would sleep for the rest of the night. after returning to his rooms he again flung himself into an easy chair determined to seriously think and arrive, that night, at some immediate steps to take his nu-nah from the excitement she had been subjected to for so long, so that a recurrence of the sad event might not be repeated. before another sun arose the prince had decided upon his future course. "i will take nu-nah away, ostensibly on a long tour of the country for pleasure. aye, for pleasure, but not the kind we have submitted to since our marriage." the next morning, as soon as the princess could see him, he requested her presence at once. he met her at the door and with a loving inquiry as to her health, led her to an easy chair beside the open window where the rays of the morning sun could fall upon her as they penetrated the delicate lace which hung at the window. drawing a chair to her side he began to unfold his plans, at the same time watching every motion and expression of the face to see what effect they would have upon her. she did not betray her thoughts until he said his object was not so much for travel as to retire to some quiet, pleasant nook, where they could be excluded from the world, and those they knew, for awhile, and instead of spending their time in the superficial pleasures of the world they could enjoy each other's society and learn something about the invisible mysteries that surrounded them. when the motives of his plans were mentioned a perceptible change flashed across her countenance and a light appeared in her eyes that he had not seen for some time and, by the time he had finished, her whole face was beaming with an inward delight, that urged the prince to further reveal the plans that he had laid during his midnight reasonings. the princess raised not a single exception to his schemes but, on the contrary, entered into them with a zest that surprised even the prince. "o, to be alone, rathunor, where we could think and study that which we choose has been the longing of my very soul these many weeks; can not we go at once, to-day if possible." she felt she could not wait the necessary time for the preparations to be made. there was a duty toward their friends that must be fulfilled. the devoted attentions that had been showered upon them for so long must not be ignored. so, it was decided to give a farewell reception, before taking their departure for an indefinite stay in strange lands. accordingly invitations were issued to a grand state occasion, when the prince and princess would bid their friends and associates farewell. ah! farewell. little did those who were of that brilliant assembly dream, as they clasped the hands of the princess and prince in cordial and sincere good-by, that it was indeed a farewell to all. neither did they conceive for a moment what those farewells meant to the princess and prince. it was hard for them to conceal their happiness as every minute of time brought their departure nearer, and what their guests took for the happiness of their presence, was really induced by the thoughts of the future. they were soon off and we can only follow them in thought for a time. let those thoughts be kind, for, knowing thoughts are potent, send them out lovingly toward the awakening mind of princess nu-nah. chapter xii. the return to a new life. several years have elapsed since we bade our prince and princess farewell. only at long intervals had they communicated with their friends. the outer world had almost forgotten them, but not so with the hierophant and the priestess of the temple. daily, had their prayers gone in behalf of their souls' welfare. although not in communication with them in body they were in spirit, and from this source they knew all was well. the high priest, in his astral visits, could see the growing power of the soul over the slowly-evolving brain of the princess, and with the electric soul-force, the great nourisher and renewer of life, though unconscious to him, the rounding out was fast nearing completion of the soul's mastery over the brain and body of nu-nah. they had settled in distant lands, near a little country village that lay just at the foot of the mountains. it was made up of the simple peasantry, where life was free from cant, suspicions, criticism and morbid curiosity. here they could live and follow the bent of their minds, undisturbed and unobserved if they so wished. they kept their identity unknown yet the villagers knew from the princess' delicate beauty of form and features she belonged to some noble family and station in life, but her kind, thoughtful bearing towards them won their love and esteem at once, and equally did they esteem the prince for he was ever lavish with his money and attention to those who appealed to him for assistance. the mountains soon became their favorite resort. long walks were taken daily, and rests made in the quiet nooks on the mountain side. one place particularly, became a very dear retreat to them, for never did they stop there but that some inspirations were born. it was here that nu-nah took her first lesson from rathunor; it was in this sacred spot that rathunor gently but cautiously revealed to her the initiatory rites of the temple that had been performed over her unconscious body. this excited an intense curiosity, if not deep interest, in nu-nah's mind. she began to question and think and, as she thought, there came a vague, glimmering memory of the past, and when rathunor would inquire the cause of her almost unconscious moods, she would raise her hand to silence his voice, and whisper, "i am dreaming--o, something so grand, so solemn, so sacred haunts my mind; just wait and it will all come by and by," then her dark eyes seemed to grow larger and larger and to burn with a concentrated fire. the prince's delight knew no bounds as these expressions led him to believe they sprang from deep desires and interests, so the time seemed to shorten for the day to come when their whole time and attention would be turned to the study of nature's mysteries and the secrets of life be revealed to them, thus satisfying that inward longing for the realities of life. also, he knew, the new love that had been born in nu-nah's heart for him was more than that love that the external only can know. its depths he could not fathom nor its source pursue, so he was content to wait that promised time, predicted by the astrologer, that nu-nah would lead, guide and teach him these spiritual truths and reveal to his already awakening soul the laws of the spirit. now, a new joy was revealed to the prince when the princess made him aware that a new soul had been entrusted to their tender care and keeping. the thoughts of maternity filled her heart with bliss. blessed privilege, to bring to this plane of existence a soul awaiting incarnation in human form, to live, grow and experience on this planet the last grand objective existence that the soul can know. what care, what pleasure would she take in training that little soul to know its god and the mysteries of life and in maturity stand forth to teach mankind wisdom and truth. the pleasure in preparing for its advent made days pass as minutes. time, borne on the wings of love, passed quickly. her soul had gained that control over the mind that it was full with pure, holy and spiritual thoughts. her mind could not get beyond her husband and the young soul that had been transmitted to her keeping. the divine joy of love was singing in her soul. rathunor left her alone in her happiness, knowing that in her condition any great effort on his part to draw her mind--thoughts into new channels might lead to dire results. at last the natalday arrived. the magnetic, as well as the physical, period of gestation being completed, to them a son was born. never was there a human soul greeted with greater love and welcome than this one. not only was it the offspring of the physical union, but that of the souls. welcome, thrice welcome, to the children born of such love. the physical condition of the princess was very critical for several days. the prince's grief and anxiety was almost unbearable; neither sleep nor food took a moment of his time during her severe illness, and often did he think that again nu-nah's soul would take its flight and wend its way to the realms above. the eighth day after confinement was one of stupor and unconsciousness. not a moment passed unheeded. it was near midnight when, the attendants having retired for a short rest, and rathunor sat alone by her bedside, her eyes suddenly opened and bent their gaze upon him. beautiful, calm, divine nu-nah, her wonderful eyes shone with a surprising brilliancy and they were so riveted upon him that he dare not move, much less speak. the minutes that intervened between her waking and speaking seemed as an eternity to rathunor. "my darling husband, are you beside me--are you where i can speak to you, and are we alone?" only by a gentle pressure of the hand could he respond, and, gently laying his right hand upon her brow, he assured her by this act of his presence. she began speaking--her voice was low, yet clear and distinct, "my rathunor, my true-soul companion, i have returned with the knowledge i now impart to you. while you so patiently and tenderly watched beside my frail and almost lifeless body, my soul was away gaining knowledge and experience in the soul-world. there i learned who i am and my relation to you. do you know, o my rathunor, that our souls sustain that divine relation to each other that makes us immortal, because of being complete? the whole, the two rays of the divine ego, are joined and blended as one in our union. can you hear me further?" the agitation of his grief began to assuage and he could now listen calmly and without emotion to her words. "yes, go on. what you have already said has been indelibly burned upon my mind and soul. let me hear all you have to impart." "know you that this body was nu-nah's and this soul that of sarthia's?" it was here that only by a mighty effort of his will was he able to keep in abeyance the emotions of his heart, but the superior and god-like power of an invisible presence sustained him. the princess took no heed of his silence and continued her revelations. "do you know that on the night of the full moon, the solemn and sacred rites performed over the unconscious bodies of sarthia and nu-nah in the sacred sanctuary of the temple of isis, our souls were transferred by the magical power of the high priest and the invisible assistants? nu-nah's soul was polarized in sarthia's physical temple and that of sarthia's in this of mine. both were prostrated, even to dissolution by the malefic influence of planetary arcs, and this method was resorted to, that both our lives might be spared to round out our necessary physical existence while yet in these bodies, and also for your sake was this undertaken by our holy father that you might have that love which you so much craved and the longings of your soul might be satisfied with the knowledge it thirsted for. this will explain to you the great change observed at times in your nu-nah, and the unnatural, dreamy moods that possessed me sometimes. the brain was slow to respond to the wonderfully developed soul of sarthia and it was at those times that the soul gained the supremacy, that the greatest change would manifest. you now have the true devoted love of your soul companion and the lovely form of nu-nah for your wife. my rathunor, are you satisfied? if a pang of disappointment cross your heart, our darling child here may blot that out as he grows and learns our mystic lore and become also a soul companion of his fathers in climbing the ladder to higher wisdom and spheres than ours." the prince could not speak. he sank on his knees beside the bed and buried his face in her bosom. here silence was more profound and spoke deeper wisdom and contentment than ever words could do; how long he remained in this humble attitude and poured forth his gratefulness in prayer he knew not; but when he arose the princess was sleeping quietly, the breathing, though feeble, was deeper and more even. he gently crossed her hands upon her bosom, adjusted the clothing carefully and left her side, full of a new hope he had had for many days. life again appeared in all its glory, not a shadow appeared upon its horizon; weariness and anxiety forsook him and he went about as if walking on air, but not a word escaped his lips--nor an act betrayed his new-born joy. when the nurses returned they at once remarked the change in the princess. they, too, became hopeful and assured the husband that his wife would soon be well. the princess recovered rapidly, and it was not long before her gentle presence and noble influence shed its effulgence in the home as she moved about it. as soon as rathunor could spare the time from nu-nah's side he sent the natal hour of his first-born to the astrologer priest. anxiously did he await the reading of the stars and what they indicated for his child. the calculations were made, the judgment submitted in writing, but "shall i transmit them to the prince and princess, can they yet receive and philosophically accept the revelations therein made?" he left the study-room and repaired to the apartments of the high priest to seek advice and instructions. then, by the exercise of his potent will, he made the necessary observations to see if it were wise to convey the knowledge of the predictions to his children, nu-nah and rathunor. "not yet will we send the reading. our nu-nah has not sufficiently recovered to bear any unpleasant news." rathunor became impatient and thought, at times, he would write again--the letter must have been lost--but something withheld him. at last strange forebodings haunted him. he knew too well the promptness of the astrologer priest; there must be something that could not be revealed to nu-nah. he thought he was strong enough to bear resignedly all that might come, but when it did come all his forebodings had not prepared him to receive it. it was only a letter--no calculations--no reading, as indicated by the stars, was in it. the letter had been dictated by the priest and transcribed by the scribe hermo, and read thus: "our darling children, rathunor and nu-nah, bear bravely the news i now impart to you. your first born, the offspring of true inspiration and soul-love, can not remain with you long in the physical form. the stars deny a prolonged life, and my interior knowledge of the planetary influence, also tells me his life upon our earth's plane will be of short duration. his already matured soul does not need much of earth's experience to round out its objective existence, before entering the true life in the spiritual realm; there it will remain, my dear children, ever beckoning you on, and contributing to you that energy that will ever spur you to greater effort to realize while yet in the physical form immortal life. tend it carefully, but when the great powers that be summon its soul to go, do not try to hold it here, but add the strength of your united prayers to its flight and bid it depart to its home in the spiritual realms above. god bless and give you the strength, my children, is the prayer of your devoted father. amen! amen!" the strength of spiritual force that seemed to accompany the letter and his loving advice imparted courage to their hearts, and instead of giving way to grief, began to philosophically reason and console themselves that god's ways were wiser than man's. not many months did their lovely spiritual child remain with them until its soul took its flight to realms beyond, where truly it became as a beacon-light to the souls of its parents. its departure left the prince and princess sad and lonely for a time and their struggle to reconciliation was great--but this was of the heart and not of the soul. time healed the external wound and the interior vacancy was filled by study, investigation and the development to external consciousness of the knowledge within. again, they became restless and plans were laid to leave their happy home near the mountains, and the devoted friends they had made among the villagers who were sorry to part with them and, as memento to their honest, noble friendship, they distributed their household and personal effects among them. they revealed to no one where they were going. they disappeared as mysteriously as they came, but where? only one place on earth could tempt them to leave that sacred home, where such extreme joy and sorrow were known, and that was the former home of the soul of nu-nah, the temple of isis. nu-nah was to enter as an aspirant to a priestess, and rathunor as a priest king. the return to a new life, was hailed with joyful welcomes from all of the attendants of the temple. rathunor and nu-nah soon passed the ceremonial rites of the temple and none were more faithful in their efforts and studies than these new-born children--the especial care of the high priest and the priestess. we leave them here, wishing them the progress, the happiness and that divine peace and understanding that comes to all perfected souls. god be with them. book reviews. celestial dynamics. =celestial dynamics= is a course of astrometaphysical study particularly well adapted to new beginners in the consideration of occult forces--it being so simply, yet so forcefully written, that it carries conviction to the mind of the student without mental effort on his part. published by the astro-philosophical publishing company of denver, colo.--_banner of light_. =celestial dynamics=, by the author of "the light of egypt," etc. cloth, price, $ . . this is an excellent treatise upon those subtle or occult influences of nature--that solar force or planetary influence, which lies at the basis of astrological science, and which is generally known under the broad name of "vibration." the work is divided into twelve chapters, of which the following is an epitome. chapter i, treats upon the occult forces of nature; ii, the language of the starry heavens; iii, vital force; iv, the temperament, physical and magnetic; v, the mental and intellectual powers; vi, the financial prospects; vii, love and marriage; viii, friends and enemies; ix, celestial dynamics in operation; x, the diagnosis of disease; xi, the treatment of disease; xii, man, and his material destiny, etc. altogether, the book is a very valuable _vade mecum_ to those who are interested in occult studies; particularly that of astrology.--_the morning star_. =celestial dynamics=. a course of astro-metaphysical study, by the author of the "language of the stars," and the "light of egypt." price, $ . , cloth bound. "this is a metaphysical work which deals with the elucidation of the hidden powers of nature, and will interest the thoughtful everywhere, and cause them to study the occult sciences and help them in so doing."--_the philosophical journal_. the astro-philosophical publishing company downing ave., denver, colo. "=the language of the stars=," a new and important book ( cents), for everybody. by the author of "the light of egypt," "celestial dynamics," etc. _a master of esoteric masonry_. a work that no mental healer, christian scientist or magnetic physician can afford to be without, if they would become the real masters of their profession in the study of man and the healing art divine. _a primary course of lessons in celestial dynamics_. this important primary work is the first practical exposition of the astro-magnetic forces of nature--in their relation to man--that has yet been issued by the american press. it contains fourteen special lessons, embracing each department of human life, in such plain, simple language, that a child can understand the elementary principles laid down. and in addition to these lessons there is an appendix, containing a full explanation of all technical and scientific terms in general use upon the subject, thus forming a brief, yet practical astro dictionary. this work is illustrated with special plates. price, only cents, post free. --for sale by-- astro-philosophical pub. co., downing ave., denver, colo. banner of light pub. co., no. bosworth st., boston, mass. the progressive thinker, no. loomis st., chicago, ills. the bancroft book co., - th st., denver. colo. : : : also : : : religio-philosophical publishing house, market st., san francisco, cal. "=the light of egypt=;" --or-- the science of the soul and the stars. fourth edition. _in two parts. price, cloth, $ ; paper, $ ._ =by an initiate in esoteric masonry.= finely illustrated with eight full-page engravings. it is claimed that this book is not a mere compilation, but thoroughly original. it is believed to contain information upon the most vital points of occultism and theosophy that cannot be obtained elsewhere. it claims to fully reveal the most recondite mysteries of man upon every plane of his existence, both here and hereafter, in such plain, simple language that a child can almost understand it. the secrets and occult mysteries of astrology are revealed and explained for the first time, it is affirmed, since the days of egyptian hieroglyphics. an effort is made to show that the science of the soul and the science of the stars are the twin mysteries which comprise the one grand science of life. the following are among the claims made for the work by its friends. to the spiritual investigator this book is indispensable. to the medium it reveals knowledge beyond all earthly price, and will prove in real truth, "a guide, philosopher and friend." to the occultist it will supply the mystic key for which he has been so long earnestly seeking. to the astrologer it will become a "divine revelation of science." * * * * * opinions of press and people. 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[transcriber's note: the spelling peculiarities of the original have been retained in this etext.] thaumaturgia, or elucidations of the marvellous. by an oxonian. "bombastes kept the devil's bird, shut in the pommel of his sword, and taught him all the cunning pranks, of past and future mountebanks." _hudibras_. contents. chapter i. demonology--the devil, a most unaccountable personage--who is he?--his predilection for old women--traditions concerning evil spirits &c. chapter ii. magic and magical rites. jewish magi. chapter iii. on the several kinds of magic. augury, or divinations drawn from the flight and feeding of birds. aruspices, or divinations drawn from brute or human sacrifices. divisions of divination by the ancients--prodigies, etc. chapter iv. history of oracles--the principal oracles of antiquity. the oracle of jupiter hammon. the oracle of delphos, or pythian apollo. ceremonies practised on consulting oracles. oracles often equivocal and obscure. urim and thummim. reputation of oracles, how lost. cessation of oracles. had demons any share in the oracles? of oracles, the artifices of priests of false divinities. chapter v. the british druids, or magi--origin of fairies--ancient superstitions--their skill in medicine, etc. the british magi. chapter vi. aesculapian mysteries, etc. chapter vii. inferior deities attending mankind from their birth to their decease. chapter viii. judicial astrology--its chemical application to the prolongation of life and health--alchymical delusions. chapter ix alchymical and astrological chimera. the horoscope, a tale of the stars. the fated parricide; an oriental tale of the stars. application of astrology to the prolongation of life, etc. advertisement. spring. \ summer. |_ influences of, autumn. | the winter quarter. / chapter x. oneirocritical presentiment, illustrating the cause, effects, principal phenomena, and definition of dreams, etc. cause of dreams. poetical illustrations of the effects of the imagination in dreams. principal phenomena in dreaming. definition of dreams. chapter xi. on incubation, or the art of healing by visionary divination. chapter xii. on amulets, charms, talismans--philters, their origin and imaginary efficacy, etc. amulets used by the common people. eccentricities, caprices, and effects, of the imagination. doctrine of effluvia--miraculous cures by means of charms, amulets, etc. chapter xiii. on talismans--some curious natural ones, etc. chapter xiv. on the medicinal powers attributed to music by the ancients. chapter xv. presages, prodigies, presentiments, etc. chapter xvi. phenomena of meteors, optic delusions, spectra, etc. chapter xvii. elucidation of some ancient prodigies. magical pretensions of certain herbs, etc. chapter xviii. the practice of obeah, or negro witchcraft--charms--their knowledge of vegetable poison--secret poisoning. chapter xix. on the origin and superstitious influence of rings. chapter xx. celestial influences--omens--climacterics--predominations.--lucky and unlucky days.--empirics, etc. absurdities of paracelsus, and van helmont. chapter xxi. modern empiricism. chapter xxii. the rosicrucians or theosophists. thaumaturgia, or elucidations of the marvellous. chapter i. demonology--the devil, a most unaccountable personage--who is he?--his predilection for old women--traditions concerning evil spirits, &c. children and old women have been accustomed to hear so many frightful things of the cloven-footed potentate, and have formed such diabolical ideas of his satanic majesty, exhibiting him in so many horrible and monstrous shapes, that really it were enough to frighten beelzebub himself, were he by any accident to meet his prototype in the dark, dressed up in the several figures in which imagination has embodied him. and as regards men themselves, it might be presumed that the devil could not by any means terrify them half so much, were they actually to meet and converse with him face to face: so true it is that his satanic majesty is not near so black as he is painted. however useful the undertaking might prove, to give a true history of this "tyrant of the air," this "god of the world," this "terror and overseer of mankind," it is not our intention to become the devil's biographer, notwithstanding the facility with which the materials might be collected. of the devil's origin, and the first rise of his family, we have sufficient authority on record; and, as regards his dealings, he has certainly always acted in the dark; though many of his doings both moral, political, ecclesiastical, and empirical, have left such strong impressions behind them, as to mark their importance in some transactions, even at the present period of the christian world. these discussions, however, we shall leave in the hands of their respective champions, in order to take, as we proceed, a cursory view of some of the _diableries_ with which mankind, in imitation of this great master, has been infected, from the first ages of the world. the greeks, and after them the romans, conferred the appellation of demon upon certain _genii_, or spirits, who made themselves visible to men with the intention of either serving them as friends, or doing them an injury as enemies. the followers of plato distinguished between their gods--or _dei majorum gentium_; their demons, or those beings which were not dissimilar in their general character to the good and bad angels of christian belief,--and their heroes. the jews and the early christians restricted the name of demon to beings of a malignant nature, or to devils properly so called; and it is to the early notions entertained by this people, that the outlines of later systems of demonology are to be traced. it is a question, we believe, not yet set at rest by the learned in these sort of matters, whether the word _devil_ be singular or plural, that is to say, whether it be the name of a personage so called, standing by himself, or a noun of multitude. if it be singular, and used only personal as a proper name, it consequently implies one imperial devil, monarch or king of the whole clan of hell, justly distinguished by the term devil, or as our northern neighbours call him "the muckle horned deil," and poetically, after burns "auld clootie, nick, or hornie," or, according to others, in a broader set form of speech, "the devil in hell," that is, the "devil of a devil," or in scriptural phraseology, the "great red dragon," the "devil or satan." but we shall not cavil on this mighty potentate's name; much less dispute his identity, notwithstanding the doubt that has been broached, whether the said devil be a real or an imaginary personage, in the shape, form, and with the faculties that have been so miraculously ascribed to him; for if it should so fall out, as who can tell, but there may be a god, a heav'n and hell? mankind had best consider well,--for fear it be too late when their mistakes appear. the devil has always, it would seem, been particularly partial to old women; the most ugly and hideous of whom he has invariably selected to do his bidding. mother shipton, for instance, our famous old english witch, of whom so many funny stories are still told, is evidently very much wronged in her picture, if she was not of the most terrible aspect imaginable; and, if it be true, merlin, the famous welch fortune-teller, was a most frightful figure. if we credit another story, he was begotten by "_old nick_" himself. to return, however, to the devil's agents being so infernally ugly, it need merely be remarked, that from time immemorial, he has invariably preferred such _rational_ creatures as most belied the "human form divine." the sybils, of whom so many strange prophetic things are recorded, are all, if the italian poets are to be credited, represented as very old women; and as if ugliness were the _ne plus ultra_ of beauty in old age, they have given them all the hideousness of the devil himself. it will be seen, despite of all that has been said to the disadvantage of the devil, that he has very much improved in his management of worldly affairs; so much so, that, instead of an administration of witches, wizzards, magicians, diviners, astrologers, quack doctors, pettifogging lawyers, and boroughmongers, he has selected some of the wisest men as well as greatest fools of the day to carry his plans into effect. his satanic majesty seems also to have considerably improved in his taste; owing, no doubt, to the present improving state of society, and the universal diffusion of useful knowledge. indeed, we no longer hear of cloven-footed devils, only in a metaphorical sense--fire and brimstone are extinct or nearly so; the embers of hell and eternal damnation are chiefly kept alive and blown up by ultras among the sectaries who are invariably the promoters of religious fanaticism. beauty, wit, address, with the less shackled in mind, have superseded all that was frightful, and terrible, odious, ugly, and deformed. this subject is poetically and more beautifully illustrated in the following demonological stanzas, which are so appropriate to the occasion, that we cannot resist quoting them as a further prelude to our subjects: when the devil for weighty despatches wanted messengers cunning and bold, he pass'd by the beautiful faces and picked out the ugly and old. of these he made warlocks and witches to run of his errands by night, till the over-wrought hag-ridden wretches were as fit as the devil to fright. but whoever has been his adviser, as his kingdom increases in growth, he now takes his measures much wiser, and trafics with beauty and youth. disguis'd in the wanton and witty, he haunts both the church and the court; and sometimes he visits the city, where all the best christians resort. thus dress'd up in full masquerade, he the bolder can range up and down for he better can drive on his trade, in any one's name than his own. to be brief, the devil, it appears, is by far too cunning still for mankind, and continues to manage things in his own way, in spite of bishops, priests, laymen, and new churches. he governs the vices and propensities of men by methods peculiarly his own; though every crime or extortion, subterfuge or design, whether it be upon the purse or the person, will not make a man a devil; it must nevertheless be confessed, that every crime, be its magnitude or complexion what it may, puts the criminal, in some measure, into the devil's power, and gives him an ascendancy and even a title to the delinquent, whom he ever afterwards treats in a very magisterial manner. we are told that every man has his attendant evil genius, or tutelary spirit, to execute the orders of the master demon--that the attending evil angel sees every move we make upon the board; witnesses all our actions, and permits us to do mischief, and every thing that is pernicious to ourselves;--that, on the contrary, our good spirit, actuated by more benevolent motives, is always accessary to our good actions, and reluctant to those that are bad. if this be the case, it may be fairly asked, how does it happen that those two contending spirits do not quarrel and give each other black eyes and broken heads during their rivalship for pre-eminence? and why does the evil tempting spirit so often prevail? instead of literally answering these difficult questions, it may be resolved into a good argument, as an excellent allegory to represent the struggle in the mind of man between good and evil inclinations. but to take them as they actually are, and merely to talk by way of natural consequence--for to argue from nature is certainly the best way to get to the bottom of the devil's story,--if there are good and evil spirits attending us, that is to say, a good angel and a devil, then it is no unjust reproach to say, when people follow the dictates of the latter, that _the devil's in them_, or that _they are devils_! or, to carry the simile a point farther, that as the generality, and by far the greatest number of people follow and obey the evil spirit and not the good one, and that the power predominating is allowed to be the nominating power, it must then of course be allowed that the greater part of mankind have the devil in them, which brings us to the conclusion of our argument; and in support of which the following stanzas come happily to our recollection. to persons and places he sends his disguises, and dresses up all his banditti, who, as pickpockets flock to country assizes, crowd up to the court and the city. they're at every elbow, and every ear, and ready at every call, sir; the vigilant scout, plants his agents about, and has something to do with us all, sir. in some he has part, and some he has whole, and of some, (like the vicar of _baddow_) it can neither be said they have body or soul; and only are devils in shadow. the pretty and witty are devils in masque; the beauties are mere apparitions; the homely alone by their faces are known, and the good by their ugly conditions. the beaux walk about like the shadows of men, and wherever he leads them they follow; but tak'em, and shak'em, there's not one in ten but's as light as a feather, and hollow. thus all his affairs he drives on in disguise, and he tickles mankind with a feather, creeps in at one's ear, and looks out at our eyes, and jumbles our senses together. he raises the vapours and prompts the desires, and to ev'ry dark deed holds the candle; the passions inflames and the appetite fires, and takes every thing by the handle. thus he walks up and down in complete masquerade and with every company mixes; sells in every shop, works at every trade, and ev'ry thing doubtful perplexes. the jewish traditions concerning evil spirits are various, some of which are founded on scripture, some borrowed from the opinions of the pagans, some are fables of their own invention, and some are allegorical. the demons of the jews were considered either as the distant progeny of adam or eve, resulting from an improper intercourse with supernatural beings, or of cain. as the doctrine, however, was extremely revolting to some few of the early christians, they maintained that demons were the souls of departed human beings, who were still permitted to interfere in the affairs of the earth, either to assist their friends or to persecute their enemies. but this doctrine did not obtain. about two centuries and a half ago an attempt, in a condensed form, was made, to give the various opinions entertained of demons at an early date of the christian era; and it was not until a much later period of christianity, that a more decided doctrine relative to their origin and nature was established. these tenets involved certain very knotty points respecting the fall of those angels, who, for disobedience, had forfeited their high abode in heaven. the gnostics of early christian times, in imitation of a classification of the different orders of spirits by plato, had attempted a similar arrangement with respect to an hierarchy of angels, the gradation of which stood as follows. the first, and highest order, was named seraphins; the second, cherubins; the third was the order of thrones; the fourth, of dominions; the fifth, of virtues; the sixth, of powers; the seventh, of principalities; the eighth, of archangels; the ninth, and lowest, of angels. this fable was, in a pointed manner, censured by the apostles: yet strange to say, it almost outlived the pneumatologists of the middle ages. these schoolmen, in reference to the account that lucifer rebelled against heaven, and that michael the archangel warred against him, long agitated the momentous question, what order of angels fell on the occasion. at length it became the prevailing opinion that lucifer was of the order of seraphins. it was also proved after infinite research, that agares, belial, and barbatos, each of them deposed angels of great rank, had been of the order of virtues; that beleth, focalor, and phoenix, had been of the order of thrones; that gaap had been of the order of powers, and virtues; and murmur of thrones and angels. the pretensions of many noble devils were, likewise, canvassed, and, in an equally satisfactory manner, determined; a multiplicity of incidents connected therewith were arranged, which previously had been matter of considerable doubt and debate. these sovereign devils, to each of whom was assigned a certain district, had many noble spirits subordinate to them whose various ranks and precedence were settled with all the preciseness of heraldic distinction:--there were, for instance, devil-dukes; devil-marquises; devil-earls; devil-knights; devil-presidents, devil-archbishops, and bishops; prelates; and, without question, devil-physicians, and apothecaries. in the middle ages, when conjuration had attained a certain pitch of perfection, and was regularly practised in europe, devils of distinction were supposed to make their appearance under decided forms, by which they were as well recognised, as the head of any ancient family would be by his crest and armorial bearings. the shapes they were accustomed to adopt were registered among their names and characters. although the leading tenets of demonology may be traced to the jews and early christians, yet they were matured by our early communications with the moors of spain, who were the chief philosophers of the dark ages, and between whom and the natives of france and italy, a great communication existed. toledo, seville and salamanca, became the greatest schools of magic. at the latter city predilections on the black art from a consistent regard to the solemnity of the subject were delivered within the walls of a vast and gloomy cavern. the schoolmen taught that all knowledge might be obtained from the assistance of the fallen angels. they were skilled in the abstract sciences, in the knowledge of precious stones, in alchymy, in the various languages of mankind and of the lower animals; in the belles-lettres, moral philosophy, pneumatology, divinity, magic, history, and prophecy. they could controul the winds and waters, and the stellar influences. they could cause earthquakes, induce diseases or cure them, accomplish all vast mechanical undertakings, and release souls out of purgatory. they could influence the passions of the mind, procure the reconciliation of friends or of foes, engender mutual discord, induce mania, melancholy, or direct the force and objects of human affection. such was the demonology taught by its orthodox professors. yet other systems of it were devised, which had their origin in the causes attending the propagation of christianity; for it must have been a work of much time to eradicate the almost universal belief in the pagan deities, which had become so numerous as to fill every creek and corner of the universe with fabulous beings. many learned men, indeed, were induced to side with the popular opinion on the subject, and did nothing more than endeavour to unite it with their acknowledged systems of demonology. they taught that the objects of heathen reverence were fallen angels in league with the prince of darkness, who, until the appearance of our saviour, had been allowed to range on the earth uncontrolled, and to involve the world in spiritual darkness and delusion. according to the various ranks which these spirits held in the vast kingdom of lucifer, they were suffered, in their degraded state, to take up their abode in the air, in mountains, in springs, or in seas. but although the various attributes ascribed to the greek and roman deities, were, by the early teachers of christianity, considered in the humble light of demoniacal delusions, yet, for many centuries they possessed great influence over the minds of the vulgar. the notion of every man being attended by an evil genius was abandoned much earlier than the far more agreeable part of the same doctrine which taught that, as an antidote to their influence, each individual was also accompanied by a benignant spirit. "the ministration of angels," says a writer in the athenian oracle, "is certain; but the manner _how_, is the knot to be untied." it was an opinion of the early philosophers that not only kingdoms[ ] had their tutelary guardians, but that every person had his particular genius or good spirit, to protect and admonish him through the medium of dreams and visions. such were the objects of superstitious reverence derived from the pantheons of greece and rome, the whole synod of which was supposed to consist of demons, who were still actively bestirring themselves to delude mankind. but in the west of europe, a host of other demons, far more formidable, were brought into play, who had their origin in celtic, teutonic, and even in eastern fables; and as their existence, as well as influence, was boldly asserted, not only by the early christians, but even by the reformers, it was long before the rites to which they were accustomed were totally eradicated. footnotes: [ ] thus the penates, or household gods presided over new-born infants. every thing had its guardian or peculiar genius: cities, groves, fountains, hills, were all provided with keepers of this kind, and to each man was allotted no less than two--one good, the other bad (hor. lib. ii. epist. .) who attended him from the cradle to the grave. the greeks called them _demons_. they were named _praenestites_, from their superintending human affairs. chapter ii. magic and magical rites, &c. few subjects present to a philosophic eye more matter of curious, important and instructive research than the natural history of religion. some sort of religious service has been found to prevail in all ages and nations, from the most rude and barbarous periods of human society, to those of cultivation and refinement. in these periods are to be traced specimens strongly marked with exertions of the feelings, and faculties of men in every situation almost that can be supposed. it is from the contemplation of these exertions that we learn what sort of creature man is; that we discover the extent of his powers, and the tendency of his desires: and that we become acquainted with the force of culture and civilization upon him, by comparing the degrees of improvement he has attained in the various stages of society through which he has passed. it seems to be a principle established by experience, that mankind in general have at no time been able, by the operation of their own mutual powers, to ascend in their inquiries to the great comprehensive foundation of true religion,--the knowledge of a first cause. this idea is too grand, too distinct, or too refined for the generality of the human race. they are surrounded by sensible objects, and strongly attached to them; they are in a great measure unaccustomed to the most simple and obvious degrees of abstraction, and they can scarcely conceive anything to have a real existence that may not become an object of their senses. possessed of such sentiments and views, they are fully prepared in embracing all the follies and absurdities of superstition. they worship every thing they either love or fear, in order to procure the continuance of favours enjoyed, or to avert that resentment they may have reason to dread. as their knowledge of nature is altogether imperfect, and as many events every moment present themselves, upon which they can form no theoretical conclusion, they fly for satisfaction to the most simple, but most ineffectual of all solutions--the agency of invisible beings, with which, in their opinion, all nature is filled. hence the rise of polytheism and local deities, which have overspread the face of the earth, under the different titles of guardian gods or tutelary saints. hence magnificent temples and splendid statues have been erected to aid the imagination of votaries, and to realize objects of worship, which, though supposed to be always hovering around, seldom condescend to become visible. after obtaining some information concerning present objects, the next cause of solicitude and inquiry to the mind of man, is to penetrate a little into the secrets of futurity. the same tutelary gods who bestowed their care, and exerted their powers to procure present pleasure and happiness for mankind, were supposed not averse to grant them, in this respect also, a little indulgence. hence the famous oracular responses of antiquity; hence the long train of conjurers, fortune-tellers, astrologers, necromancers, magicians, wizards, and witches, that have been found in all places and at all times; nor have superior knowledge and civilization been sufficient to extirpate such characters, by demonstrating the futility and absurdity of their views. among the ancients, this superstition was a great engine of state. the respect paid to omens, auguries and oracles, was profound and universal; and the persons in power monopolized the privilege of consulting and interpreting them. they joined the people in expressing their veneration; but there is little reason to doubt that they conducted the responses in such a manner as best suited the purposes of government. on this account, it would not be difficult for the oracle to emit predictions, which, to all those unacquainted with the secret, would appear altogether astonishing and unaccountable. it would seem that this principle alone is sufficient to explain all the phenomena of ancient oracles. though devination has long ceased to be an instrument of government, abundance of designing persons have not been wanting in latter ages, who found much interest in taking advantage of the weakness or credulity of their fellow creatures. against this pestilent and abandoned race of men, most civilized countries have enacted penal laws. but what rendered such persons peculiarly detestable in modern times, was the communication which they were supposed to hold with the devil, to whom they sold themselves, and from whom, in return, they derived their information. and by this principle the penal statutes, instead of extirpating, inflamed the evil. they alarmed the imaginations of the people; they tempted them to impute the cause of their misfortunes and disappointment to the malice or resentment of their neighbours; they induced them to trust to their suspicions, much more than to their reason; and they multiplied witches and wizards, by putting into possession of every foolish informer the means of punishment. in several countries of europe, these statutes still subsist; they were not abolished in britain till a period still at no great distance. since the abolition of persecution, the faith of witchcraft has disappeared even among the vulgar. it was long found inconsistent with any considerable progress in philosophy. for these reasons we read, with some degree of astonishment, a treatise on this exploded subject, by a philosopher, an eminent physician, a privy counseller of the then empress queen, and a professor in the university of vienna. it was long doubted whether the professor was in earnest, but the world was at length forced to admit, that the great antonius de haen certainly believed in witchcraft, and reckoned the knowledge of it, in treating a disease, of great importance to a physician--to the acquisition of which useful knowledge, he dedicated a great part of his time. in the year , three old women, condemned to death for witchcraft, were brought by order of the empress from croatia to vienna, to undergo an examination, with regard to the equity of the sentence pronounced against them. the question was not whether the crime existed; the only object of inquiry respected the justice of its application. the author, and the illustrious van swieten, were appointed to make the investigation. after reading over the depositions, produced on the trials with the greatest care, and interrogating the culprits themselves _most vigorously_ by means of a croatian interpreter, these great physicians discovered that the _three old_ women were not witches, and prevailed with the empress to send them home in safety. it was this circumstance that induced de haen to write on magic. that some judgment may be formed of de haen's very extraordinary and curious production written in the latter part of the eighteenth century, we shall here furnish our readers with an abstract of its principles and reasoning, to which we shall subjoin some remarks. by the crime of magic, the author informs us, he means any improper communication between men and evil spirits, whether it be called theurgy, soothsaying, necromancy, chiromancy, incantation or witchcraft. he proposes to prove, in the first place, that such a communication does actually exist. he quotes the egyptian magicians, the witch of endor, the possessions mentioned in the new testament, and many more exceptionable authorities from the fathers, and canons of the church. he is positive the incantations of the egyptian magicians were real operations of infernal agents, and that the accounts of them, delivered by moses, can admit no other construction. may not the sincere believer in the divine authority of the scriptures reasonably hesitate concerning this conclusion? or rather, does not such an interpretation justly expose revelation to reproach? the plain dictates of the best philosophy are, that nothing is more simple, regular, and uniform than the ordinary course of nature; and that this course can neither be suspended nor altered, but by its author, nor can by him be permitted to be interrupted by any inferior being, unless for the most important reasons. it does not appear what good end could be gained, on the part of providence, by the permission of these magical enchantments, supposing them supernatural; and if we imagine the devil to have acted spontaneously, with a view to support his power and influence, he most manifestly erred in his design. nothing could be more impolitic than his appearance in a field of combat, where he well knew he must sustain an ignominious defeat. or if he worked effectually to support the power and influence of his servants the magicians, he should have counteracted, not repeated, the miraculous exhibitions of moses. that the magicians possessed no power sufficient for this purpose is obvious, from their not exerting it. that pharoah expected no such exertion from them is evident from his never requesting it, and from his application to moses and aaron. the truth seems to be, that pharoah conceived moses and aaron to be magicians like his own. he wished to support the character of the latter; and he concluded this would be effectually done, if they could only furnish a pretence for affirming that they had performed every wonder accomplished by the former. without some such supposition of collusion, two of the miracles attempted by the magicians are perfectly absurd and contradictory. they pretended to turn water into blood, when there was not one drop of water in all the land of egypt, which aaron had not previously converted into that substance. they pretended to send frogs over the land of egypt, when every corner of it was swarming with that loathsome reptile. it is further remarkable that, with the three first only of moses's miracles they proposed to vie; on the appearance of the fourth, they fairly resigned the contest, and acknowledged very honestly that the hand of god was visible in the miracles of moses;--a plain confession that no supernatural power operated in their own. de haen considers the case of the witch of endor as an authority still more direct. he maintains that samuel was actually called up, either under corporeal or fantastic form, and foretold saul the fate of his engagements with the philistines. let us attend to the circumstances of the story, and examine whether it is absolutely necessary to have recourse to this supernatural hypothesis. the mind of saul was distracted and agitated beyond measure by the most critical and alarming situation of his affairs; his distress was so great that, forgetting his dignity and safety, he dismissed his attendants, laid aside his royal robes, was unable to eat bread, and, dressed like the meanest of his people, he took his journey to the abode of the conjurer. in this state of mind, prepared for imposition, he arrives during the night at her residence. he prevails with her, by much solicitation, and probably by ample rewards, to call up samuel. to discompose still further the disordered mind of saul, she announces the pretended approach of the apparition by a loud acclamation, tells the king she knew him, which till now she affected not to do, and describes the resurrection of the prophet, under the awful semblance of god's rising out of the earth. during all this time the king had seen nothing extraordinary, either because he was not allowed light sufficient for that purpose, or was not admitted within the sphere of vision. he entreats an account of the personage who approached, and the conjurer describes the well-known appearance of samuel. the prophet sternly challenges the king for disturbing his repose, tells him that david was intended to be king of israel, that himself would be defeated by the philistines, and that he and his sons would fall in battle. the king enters into no conversation with the apparition; but unable any longer to support his agitation, drops lifeless on the ground. the conjurer returns to saul, presses him to take some food which she had prepared. he at last complies; and having finished his repast, departs with his servants before the morning. the whole of this scene, it is evident, passed in darkness. it does not appear that saul ever saw the prophet; and it surely required no supernatural intelligence to communicate all the information he obtained. this would readily be suggested by the despondency of the king, the strength of his enemies, and the disposition of the whole people of the jews alienated from him, and inclined towards his successor. the witch of endor, therefore, might be a common fortune-teller, and her case exhibits no direct proof of supernatural possession. we do not pretend to account so easily for many of the possessions recorded in the new testament, though few of these only are applicable to the case of sorcery. we are well aware, that several writers of eminence, who cannot be supposed to entertain the least unfavourable sentiments of revelation, have undertaken to explain these possessions, without having recourse to any thing supernatural, by representing them as figurative descriptions of particular and local diseases. we mean not to adopt, or defend the views of such authors, though we may perhaps be allowed to observe that, were their opinions supported in a satisfactory manner, christianity would lose nothing by the attempt. it would be exempted, by this means, from a little cavilling and ridicule, to which some of its enemies reckon it at present exposed, and the design could not in the least derogate from its divinity, as the instantaneous cure of a distemper cannot be considered less miraculous than the expulsion of the devil. at any rate, these possessions are all extraordinary; appeared on some most extraordinary occasion; and from them, therefore, no general conclusion can be drawn to the ordinary cases of common life. we shall now translate a specimen of de haen's[ ] authorities, extracted from the fathers. the following from jerome will need no comment. this father, in his life of st. hilario the hermit, relates that a young man of the town of gaza in syria, fell deeply in love with a pious virgin in the neighbourhood. he attacked her with looks, whispers, professions, caresses, and all those arguments which usually conquer yielding virginity; but finding them all ineffectual, he resolved to repair to memphis, the residence of many eminent conjurers, and implore their magic aid. he remained there for a year, till he was fully instructed in the art. he then returned home, exulting in his acquisitions, and feasting his imagination with the luscious scenes he was now confident of realizing. all he had to do was to lodge secretly some hard words and uncouth figures, engraved on a plate of brass, below the threshold of the door of the house in which the lady lived. she became perfectly furious, she tore her hair, gnashed her teeth, and repeated incessantly the name of the youth, who had been drawn from her presence by the violence of her despairing passion. in this situation she was conducted by her relations to the cell of old hilario. the devil that possessed her, in consequence of the charm, began immediately to howl, and to confess the truth. "i have suffered violence," said he; "i have been forced hither against my inclination. how happy was i at memphis, amusing my friends with visions! o the pains, the tortures which i suffer! you command me to dislodge, and i am detained fast by the charm below the threshold. i cannot depart, unless the young man dismiss me." so cautious, however, was the saint, that he would not permit the magic figures to be searched for, till he had released the virgin, for fear he should seem to have intercourse with incantations in performing the cure or to believe that a devil could even speak truth. he observed only that demons are always liars, and cunning to deceive. de haen imputes to the power of magic the miracles,[ ] as they are called, of the famous apollonius thyanaeus. he seems to entertain no scruple about their authority. as several of the enemies of revelation have held forth thyanaeus as a rival of jesus christ, a specimen of his performances may amuse our readers. during an assembly of the people at ephesus, a great flight of birds approached from a neighbouring wood; one bird led all the rest. "there is nothing wonderful," says thyanaeus, to the astonished people, "in this appearance. a boy passing along a particular street has carelessly scattered in it some corn which he carried; one bird has tasted the food, and generously calls the rest to partake the repast." the hearers repaired to the spot, and found the information true. being called to allay a pestilence which raged at ephesus, he ordered an old beggar to be burned under the stones near the temple of hercules, as an enemy to the gods. he commanded the people again to remove the stones, that they might see what sort of animal had been put to death. they found not a man, but a dog. the plague, however, ceased. a married woman of rank being dead, was carried out to be burned in an open litter, followed by her husband dissolved in tears. apollonius approaching, requests him to stop the procession, and he would put an end to his grief. he asked the name of the woman, touched her, and muttered over her some words. she immediately revived, began to speak, and returned again to her own house. fleury, who relates the miracle, remarks that some people doubted whether the woman had been really dead, as they had observed something like breath issue from her mouth. others imagined she had been seized only with a tedious faint, and that the operation of the cold dews and damps upon her body might naturally recover her. on fleury's remark de haen most sagely observes, that the persons who observed the woman breathing could not surely have suppressed the joyful news, and would certainly have stopped the procession before the philosopher arrived. de haen's second attempt is to recite all the objections that have been made against sorcery, and to subjoin to each a distinct refutation. there is nothing in this part of the work that merits any attention. he concludes in these words: "i may then with confidence affirm, that the art of magic most certainly exists. history, sacred and prophane; authority human and divine; experiments the most unquestionable and unexceptionable, all concur to demonstrate its reality." the last part of de haen's work relates to the discovering and treating of magical diseases, to explain which seems to have been the chief purpose of the author in composing his book. much caution, he observes, and attention are necessary on this head; and the physician should not readily admit the imputation of witchcraft. no absence of the ordinary symptoms, no uncommon alteration of the course of the distemper, are sufficient to infer this conclusion, because these may arise from unknown natural causes. what then are the marks of certain incantations? de haen holds the following to be indisputable: "if, in any uncommon disease, there shall be found, in the stuffing of the cushions, or cielings of the room in which the patient lies, in the feather or the chaff of his bed, about the door, or under the threshold of his house, any strange characters, images, bones, hair, seeds, or roots of plants; and if upon the removal of these, or upon conveying the patient into another apartment, he shall suddenly recover; or if the patient himself, or his friends, shall be so wicked as to call a wizzard to their aid, by whom the malady shall be removed; or if insects and animals which do not lodge in the human body; if stones, metals, glass, knives, plaited hair, pieces of pitch, be ejected from particular parts of the body, of greater size, and weight and figure, than could be supposed to make their way through these parts, without much greater demolition and delaceration of the passages; in all these cases, the disease is unquestionably magical." the author proceeds to enquire whether the physician may presume to remove the instruments of incantation in order to relieve the patient without incurring the accusation of impiety by interfering with the implements and furniture of the devil; and concludes very formally that, after approaching them with all due ceremony and respect, after imploring with suitable devotion and ardour, the protection and direction of heaven in such a perilous undertaking, he may attempt to intermeddle, and may occasionally expect a successful issue. such are the views, reasonings, and conclusions of, at the time, one of the first physicians and philosophers of germany;--views and reasonings which would have been received with eagerness and applause two hundred years ago, but which the philosophy and improvements of later times seem to have banished to the abodes of ignorance and barbarity. the origin of almost all our knowledge may be traced to the earlier periods of antiquity. this is peculiarly the case with respect to the arts denominated magical. there were few ancient nations, however barbarous, which could not furnish many individuals to whose spells and enchantments the power of nature and the material world were supposed to be subjected. the chaldeans, the egyptians, and indeed all the oriental nations were accustomed to refer all natural effects, for which they could not account to the agency of demons, who were believed to preside over herbs, trees, rivers, mountains, and animals. every member of the human body was under their power, and all corporeal diseases were produced by their malignity. for instance, if any happened to be affected with a fever, little anxiety was manifested to discover its cause, or to adopt rational measures for its cure; it must no doubt have been occasioned by some evil spirit residing in the body, or influencing, in some mysterious way, the fortunes of the sufferer. that influence could be counteracted only by certain magical rites; hence the observance of those rites soon obtained a permanent establishment in the east. even at the present day, many uncivilized people hold that all nature is filled with genii, of which some exercise a beneficent, and others a destructive power. all evils with which man is afflicted, are considered the work of these imaginary beings, whose favour must he propitiated by sacrifices, incantations, and songs. if the greenlander be unsuccessful in fishing, the huron in hunting, or in war; if even the scarcely half reasoning hottentot finds every thing is not right in his mind, body, or fortune, no time must be lost before the spirit be invoked. after the removal of some present evil, the next strongest desire in the human mind is the attainment of some future good. this good is often beyond the power, and still oftener beyond the inclination of man to bestow; it must therefore be sought from beings which are supposed to possess considerable influence over human affairs, and which being elevated above the baser passions of our nature, were thought to regard with peculiar favour all who acknowledged their power, or invoked their aid: hence the numerous rites which have, in all ages and countries, been observed in consulting superior intelligences, and the equally numerous modes in which their pleasure has been communicated to mortals. the chaldean magi were chiefly founded on astrology, and were much conversant with certain animals, metals and plants, which they employed in all their incantations; the virtue of which was derived from stellar influence. great attention was always paid to the positions and the configurations presented by the celestial sphere; and it was only at favourable seasons that the solemn rites were celebrated. those rites were accompanied with many peculiar and fantastic gestures, by leaping, clapping of hands, prostrations, loud cries, and not unfrequently with unintelligible exclamations. sacrifices, and burnt offerings were used to propitiate superior powers; but our knowledge of the magical rites exercised by certain oriental nations, the jews only excepted, is extremely limited. all the books professedly written on the subject, have been, swept away by the torrent of time. we learn, however, that the professors among the chaldeans were generally divided into three classes; the _ascaphim_, or charmers, whose office it was to remove present, and to avert future contingent evils; to construct talismans, etc. the _mecaschephim_, or magicians, properly so called, who were conversant with the occult powers of nature, and the supernatural world; and the _chasdim_, or astrologers, who constituted by far the most numerous and respectable class. and from the assembly of the wise men on the occasion of the extraordinary dream of nebuchadnezzar, it would appear that babylon had also her oneirocritici, or interpreters of dreams--a species of diviners indeed, to which almost every nation of antiquity gave birth. like the chaldean astrologers, the persian magi, from whom our word magic is derived, belong to the priesthood. but the worship of the gods was not their chief occupation; they were also great proficients in the arts. they joined to the worship of the gods, and to the profession of medicine and natural magic, a pretended familiarity with superior powers, from which they boasted of deriving all their knowledge. like plato, who probably imbibed many of their notions, they taught that demons hold a middle rank between gods and men; that they (the demons) presided not only over divinations, auguries, conjurations, oracles, and every species of magic, but also over sacrifices, and prayer, which in behalf of men is thus presented, and rendered acceptable to the gods. indeed, the austerity of their lives[ ] was well calculated to strengthen the impression which their cunning had already made on the multitude, and to prepare the way for whatever impostures they might afterwards practise. we are less acquainted with indian magic than with that practised by any other eastern nations. it may, however, be reasonably enough inferred that it was very similar to that for which the magi in general were held in such high estimation: although they were excluded, as beings of too sacred a nature, from the ordinary occurrences of life. their brahmins, or gymnosophists, were regarded with as much reverence as the magi, and probably were more worthy of it. some of them dwelt in woods, and others in the immediate vicinity of cities. their skill in medicine was great; the care which they took in educating youth, in familiarizing it with generous and virtuous sentiments, did them peculiar honour; and their maxims and discourses, as recorded by historians, prove that they were much accustomed to profound reflection on the principles of civil polity, morality, religion and philosophy. jewish magi. of the magi of the jews, it is proved by lightfoot,[ ] that after their return from babylon, having entirely forsaken idolatry, and being no longer favoured with the gift of prophecy, they gradually abandoned themselves, before the coming of our saviour, to sorcery and divination. the talmud, still regarded with a reverence bordering on idolatry, abounds with instructions for the due observance of superstitious rites. after their city and temple were destroyed, many jewish impostors were highly esteemed for their pretended skill in magic; and under pretence of interpreting dreams, they met with daily opportunities of practising the most shameful frauds. many rabbins were quite as well versed in the school of zoroaster, as in that of moses. they prescribed all kinds of conjuration, some for the cure of wounds, some against the dreaded bite of serpents, and others against thefts and enchantments. their divinations were founded on the influence of the stars, and on the operations of spirits, they did not, indeed, like the chaldean magi, regard the heavenly bodies as gods and genii, but they ascribed to them a great power over the actions and opinions of men. the magical rites of the jews were, and indeed are still, chiefly performed on various important occasions, as on the birth of a child, marriages, etc. on such occasions the evil spirits are supposed to be more than usually active in their malignity, which can only be counteracted by certain enchantments.[ ] they believe that lilis will cause all their male children to die on the eighth day after their birth; girls on the twenty-first.[ ] the following are the means adopted by the german jews to avert this calamity. they draw arrows in circular lines with chalk or charcoal on the four walls of the room in which the accouchement takes place, and write upon each arrow: _adam, eve! make lilis go away!_ they write also on certain parts of the room the name of the three angels who preside over medicine, _senai, sansenai and sanmangelof_, after the manner taught them by lilis herself when she entertained the hope of causing all the jews to be drowned in the red sea. josephus, the historian of the jews, does not allow to magic so ancient an origin among them, as many jewish writers do. he makes solomon the first who practised an art which is so powerful against demons; and the knowledge of which, he asserts, was communicated to that prince by immediate inspiration. the latter, continues this historian, invented and transmitted to posterity in his writings, certain incantations for the cure of diseases, and for the expulsion and perpetual banishment of wicked spirits from the bodies of the possessed. it consisted, according to his description, in the use of a certain root, which was sealed up, and held under the nose of the person possessed; the name of solomon, with the words prescribed by him, was then pronounced, and the demon forced immediately to retire. he does not even hesitate to assert, that he himself has been an eye witness of such an effect produced on a person named eleazer, in the presence of the emperor vespasian and his sons. nor will this relation surprise us, when we consider the rooted malignity entertained by the jews to the christian religion, and this writer's attempt to appreciate the miracles of our saviour, by ascribing them to magical influence, and by representing them as easy of accomplishment to all acquainted with the occult sciences. innumerable are the devices contained in the cabala for averting possible evils, as the plague, disease, and sudden death. it directs how to select and combine some passages of scripture, which are believed both to render supernatural beings visible, and to produce many wonderful and surprising effects. the most famous wonders have been accomplished by means of the name of god. the sacred word jehovah is, when read with points, multiplied by the jewish doctors into twelve, forty-two, and seventy-two letters, of which words are composed that are thought to possess miraculous energy. by these, say they, moses slew the egyptians; by these israel was preserved from the destroying angel of the wilderness; by these elijah separated the waters of the river, to open a passage for himself and elisha, and by these it has been as daringly and impudently asserted, that our blessed saviour, the eternal son of god, cast out evil spirits. the name of the devil is likewise used in their magical devices. the five hebrew letters of which that name[ ] is composed, exactly constitute the number , one less than the days of the whole year. they pretended that, owing to the wonderful virtue of the number comprised in the name of satan, he is prevented from accusing them for an equal number of days: hence the stratagem before alluded to, for depriving the devil of the power of doing them any harm on the only day on which that power is granted to him. in allusion to the cabalists, pliny says, "there is another sect of magicians of which moses and latopea, jews, were the first authors." it was the prevailing opinion among the hebrews, that the cabala was delivered by god to moses, and thence through a succession of ages, even to the times of ezra, preserved by tradition only, without the help of writing, in the same manner as the doctrine of pythagoras was delivered by archippus and lysiades, who kept schools at thebes in greece, where the scholars learned all their master's precepts by heart, and employed their memories instead of books. so certain jews, despising letters, placed all their learning in memory, observation, and verbal tradition; whence it was called by them cabala, that is, a receiving from one to another by the ear an art said to be very ancient and only known to the christians in later times. the jews divided the cabala into three parts; the first containing the knowledge of _bresith_, which they call also cosmology, the object of which is to teach and explain the force and efficacy of things created, natural or celestial; expounding also the laws and mysteries of the bible according to philosophical reasons, which on that account differs little from natural magic, a science in which king solomon is said to have excelled. we find, therefore, in the sacred histories of the jews, that he was wont to discourse from the cedar of the forests of lebanon to the low hyssop of the valley; as also of cattle, birds, reptiles, and fish, all which contain within themselves a kind of magical virtue. moses also, in his expositions upon the pentateuch, and most of the talmudists, have followed the rules of the same art. the other division of the cabala contains the knowledge of things more sublime, as of divine and angelical powers, the contemplation of sacred names and characters; being a certain kind of symbolical theology, in which the letters, figures, numbers, names, points, lines, accents, etc. are esteemed to contain the significations of most profound things and wonderful mysteries. this part again is twofold--_authmantick_, handling the nature of angels, the powers, names, characters of spirits and souls departed--and _theomantick_, which searches into the mysteries of the divine majesty, his emanations, his names, and _pentacula_, which he who attains to is supposed to be endowed with most wonderful power. it was, they say, by virtue of this art, that moses wrought so many miracles; that joshua commanded the sun to stand still; that elias called down fire from heaven; that daniel the prophet muzzled the lions' mouths; and that the three children sang in the fiery furnace. and, what is more, the perfidious and unbelieving jews, did not stick to aver, that our saviour himself wrought all his miracles by virtue of this art, and that he discovered several of its secrets, containing a variety of charms against devils, and also, as josephus writes, against diseases. "as for my part," says cornelius agrippa, in allusion to this subject, "i do not doubt but that god revealed many things to moses and the prophets, which were contained under the covert of the words of the law, which were not to be communicated to the profane vulgar: so for this art, which the jews so much boast of, which i have with great labour and diligence searched into, i must acknowledge it to be a mere rhapsody of superstition, and nothing but a kind of theurgic magic before spoken of. for if, as the jews contend, coming from god, it did any way conduce to perfection of life, salvation of men, truth of understanding, certainly that spirit of truth, which having forsaken the synagogue, is now come to teach us all truth, had never concealed it all this while from the church, which certainly knows all those things that are of god; whose grace, baptism, and other sacraments of salvation, are perfectly revealed in all languages;--for every language is alike, so that there be the same piety; neither is there any other name in heaven or on earth, by which we can be saved, but only the name of jesus. therefore the jews, most skilful in divine names, after the coming of christ, were able to do nothing, in comparison of their forefathers:--the cabala of the jews, therefore, is nothing else, but a most pernicious superstition, the which by collecting, dividing, and changing several names, words, and letters, dispersed up and down in the bible, at their own good will and pleasure, and making one thing out of another, they dissolve the members of truth, raising up sentences, inductions, and parables of their own, apply thereto the oracles of divine scripture to them, defaming the scriptures, and affirming their fragments to consist of them, blaspheme the word of god by their wrested suppositions of words, syllables, letters and numbers; endeavouring to prop up their villainous inventions, by arguments drawn from their own delusions." footnotes: [ ] antonio de haen, s.c.r.a. majestate a consiliis anticis, et archiatri, medicinae in alma et antiquissimo universitate professoris primarij, plurium eruditorium societatem socii, de magia liber. vo. vienna. [ ] many significations have been attached to the word miracle, both by the ancients and moderns. with us a miracle is the suspension or violation of the laws of nature; and a miracle, which can be explained upon physical principles, ceases to be such. whatever surpassed their comprehension was regarded by the ancients as a miracle, and every extraordinary degree of information attained by an individual, as well as any unlooked-for occurrence, was referred to some peculiar interposition of the deity. hence among the ancients, the followers of different divinities, far from denying the miracles performed by their opponents, admitted their reality, but endeavoured to surpass them; and thus in the "life of zoroaster," we find that able innovator frequently entering the lists with hostile enchanters, admitting but exceeding the wonderful works they performed; and thus also when the thirst of power, or of distinction, divided the sacerdotal colleges, similar trials of skill would ensue, the successful combatant being considered to derive his knowledge from the more powerful god. that the science on which each party depended was derived from experimental physics, may be proved. . by the conduct of the thaumaturgists, or wonder-workers: . from what they themselves had said concerning magic; the genii invoked by the magicians, sometimes denoting physical or chemical agents employed, sometimes men who cultivated the science. [ ] all the three orders of magi enumerated by porphyry, abstained from wine and women, and the first of these orders from animal food. [ ] vol. ii. p. . [ ] see tobit. chap. viii. v. and . [ ] elias, as quoted by becker. [ ] there is no mention made of the word _devil_ in the old testament, but only of _satan_: nor do we meet with it in any of the heathen authors who say anything about the devil in the signification attached to it among christians; that is, as a creature revolted from god. their theology went no farther than to evil genii, or demons, who harassed and persecuted mankind, though we are still aware that many curious _nick_-names are given to the prince of darkness both by ancient and modern writers. chapter iii. on the several kinds of magic. the pretended art of producing, by the assistance of words and ceremonies, such events as are above the natural power of men, was of several kinds, and chiefly consisted in invoking the good and benevolent, or the wicked and malignant spirits. the first, which was called theurgia, was adopted by the wisest of the pagan world, who esteemed this as much as they despised the latter, which they called goetia. theurgia was by the philosophers accounted a divine art, which only served to raise the mind to higher perfection, and to exalt the soul to a greater degree of purity; and they who by means of this kind of magic, were imagined to arrive at what is called intuition, wherein they enjoyed an intimate intercourse with the deity, were believed to be invested with divine power; so that it was imagined nothing was impossible for them to perform; all who made profession of this kind of magic aspired to this state of perfection. the priest, who was of this order, was to be a man of unblemished morals, and all who joined with him were bound to a strict purity of life. they were to abstain from women, and from animal food; and were forbid to defile themselves by the touch of a dead body. nothing was to be forgotten in their rites and ceremonies; the least omission or mistake, rendered all their art ineffectual: so that this was a constant excuse for their not performing all that was required of them, though as their sole employment (after having arrived to a certain degree of perfection, by fasting, prayer, and other methods of purification) was the study of universal nature, they might gain such an insight into physical causes, as would enable them to perform actions, that should fill the vulgar with astonishment; and it is hardly to be doubted, but this was all the knowledge that many of them aspired to. in this sort of magic, hermes tresmegistus and zoroaster excelled, and indeed it gained great reputation among the egyptians, chaldeans, persians, indians and jews. in times of ignorance, a piece of clock-work, or some other curious machine, was sufficient to entitle the inventor to the works of magic; and some have even asserted, that the egyptian magic, rendered so famous by the writings of the ancients, consisted only in discoveries drawn from the mathematics, and natural philosophy, since those greek philosophers who travelled into egypt, in order to obtain a knowledge of the egyptian sciences, returned with only a knowledge of nature and religion, and some rational ideas of their ancient symbols. but it can hardly be doubted, that magic in its grossest and most ridiculous sense was practised in egypt, at least among some of the vulgar, long before pythagoras or empedocles travelled into that country. the egyptians had been very early accustomed to vary the signification of their symbols, by adding to them several plants, ears of corn, or blades of grass, to express the different employments of husbandry; but understanding no longer their meaning nor the words that had been made use of on these occasions, which were equally unintelligible, the vulgar might mistake these for so many mysterious practices observed by their fathers; and hence they might conceive the notion, that a conjunction of plants, even without being made use of as a remedy, might be of efficacy to preserve or procure health. "of these," adds the abbé pluche, "they made a collection, and an art by which they pretended to procure the blessings, and provide against the evils of life." by the assistance of these, men even attempted to hurt their enemies; and indeed the knowledge of poisonous or useful simples, might on particular occasions give sufficient weight to their empty curses and innovations. but these magic incantations, so contrary to humanity, were detested, and punished by almost all nations; nor could they be tolerated in any. pliny, after mentioning an herb, the throwing of which into an army, it was said, was sufficient to put it to the route, asks, where was this herb when rome was so distressed by the cambri and teutones? why did not the persians make use of it when lucullus cut their troops to pieces? but amongst all the incantations of magic, the most solemn, as well as the most frequent, was that of calling up the spirits of the dead; this indeed was the very acmé of their art; and the reader cannot be displeased with having this mystery here elucidated. an affection for the body of a person, who in his life time was beloved, induced the first natives to inter the dead in a decent manner, and to add to this melancholy instance of esteem, those wishes which had a particular regard to their new state of existence. the place of burial, conformable to the custom of characterising all beloved places, or those distinguished by a memorable event, was pointed out by a large stone or pillar raised upon it. to this place families, and when the concern was general, multitudes repaired every year, when, upon this stone, were made libations of wine, oil, honey, and flour; and here they sacrificed and ate in common, having first made a trench in which they burnt the entrails of the victim into which the libation and the blood were made to flow. they began with thanking god with having given them life, and providing them necessary food; and then praised him for the good examples they had been favoured with. from these melancholy rites were banished all licentiousness and levity, and while other customs changed, these continued the same. they roasted the flesh of the victim they had offered, and eat it in common, discoursing on the virtues of him they came to lament. all other feasts were distinguished by names suitable to the ceremonies that attended them. these funeral meetings were simply called the manes, that is, the assembly. thus the manes and the dead were words that became synonimous. in these meetings, they imagined that they renewed their alliance with the deceased, who, they supposed, had still a regard for the concerns of their country and family, and who, as affectionate spirits, could do no less than inform them of whatever was necessary for them to know. thus, the funerals of the dead were at last converted into methods of divination, and an innocent institution of one of the grossest pieces of folly and superstition. but they did not stop here; they became so extravagantly credulous, as to believe that the phantom drank the libations that had been poured forth, while the relations were feasting on the rest of the sacrifice round the pit: and from hence they became apprehensive lest the rest of the dead should promiscuously throng about this spot to get a share of the repast they were supposed to be so fond of, and leave nothing for the dear spirit for whom the feast was intended. they then made two pits or ditches, into one of which they put wine, honey, water, and flour, to employ the generality of the dead; and in the other they poured the blood of the victim; when sitting down on the brink, they kept off, by the sight of their swords, the crowd of dead who had no concern in their affairs, while they called him by name, whom they had a mind to cheer and consult, and desired him to draw near.[ ] the questions made by the living were very intelligible; but the answers of the dead were not so easily understood; the priests, therefore, and the magicians made it their business to explain them. they retired into deep caves, where the darkness and silence resembled the state of death, and there fasted, and lay upon the skins of the beasts they had sacrificed, and then gave for answer the dreams which most affected them; or opened a certain book appointed for that purpose, and gave the first sentence that offered.[ ] at other times the priest, or any person who came to consult, took care at his going out of the cave, to listen to the first words he should hear, and these were to be his answer. and though they had not the most remote relation to the mutter in question, they were twisted so many ways, and their sense so violently wrested, that they made them signify almost anything they pleased. at other times they had recourse to a number of tickets, on which were some words or verses, and these being thrown into an urn, the first that was taken out was delivered to the family.[ ] health, prosperity in worldly affairs, and all that was intermixed in the good or evil of this world were regulated by the responses or signs which these equivocal, not to say less than absurd, means afforded, of prying into the womb of future events. augury, or divinations drawn from the flight and feeding op birds. the superstitious fondness of mankind for searching into futurity has given rise to an infinite variety of extravagant follies. the romans, who were remarkably fertile in these sorts of demonological inventions, suggested numerous ways of divination. with them all nature had a voice, and the most senseless beings, and most trivial things, the most trifling incidents, became presages of future events; which introduced ceremonies founded on a mistaken knowledge of antiquity, the most childish and ridiculous, and which were performed with all the air of solemnity and sanctity of devotion. augury, or divinations founded on the flight of birds, were not only considered by the egyptians as the symbols of the winds, but good and bad omens of every kind were founded or rather derived from the flying of the feathered tribe. the birds at this time had become wonderfully wise; and an owl, to whom, for reasons not precisely known, light is not so agreeable as darkness, could not pass by the windows of a sick person in the night, where the creature was not offended by the glimmerings of a light or candle, but his hooting must be considered as prophesying, that the life of the poor man was nearly wound up. amongst the romans, these auguries were taken usually upon an eminence: after the month of march they were prohibited in consequence of the moulting season having commenced; nor were they permitted at the waning of the moon, nor at any time in the afternoon, or when the air was the least ruffled by winds or clouds. the feeding of the sacred chickens, and the manner of their taking the corn that was offered to them, was the most common method of taking the augury. observations were also made on the chattering or singing of birds, the hooting of crows, pies, owls, etc., and from the running of beasts, as heifers, asses, rams, hares, wolves, foxes, weasels and mice, when these appeared in uncommon places, crossed the way, or ran to the right or left. they also pretended to draw a good or bad omen from the most trifling actions or occurrences of life, as sneezing, stumbling, starting, numbness of the little finger, the tingling of the ear, the spilling of salt upon the table, or the wine upon one's clothes, the accidental meeting of a bitch with whelp, etc. it was also the business of the augur to interpret dreams, oracles, and prodigies. nothing can be so surprising than to find so wise and valorous a people as the romans addicted to such childish fooleries. scipio, augustus, and many others, without any fatal consequences, despised the _sacred_ chickens, and other arts of divination: but when the generals had miscarried in any enterprise, the people laid the whole blame on the negligence with which these oracles had been consulted: and if an unfortunate general had neglected to consult them, the blame of miscarriage was thrown upon him who had preferred his own forecast to that of the fowls; while those who made these kinds of predictions a subject of raillery, were accounted impious and profane. thus they construed, as a punishment of the gods, the defeat of claudius pulcher; who, when the sacred chickens refused to eat what was set before them, ordered them to be thrown into the sea; "if they won't eat," said he, "they shall drink." aruspices, or divinations drawn from brute, or human sacrifices. in the earliest ages of the world, a sense of piety and a regard to decency had introduced the custom of never sacrificing to him, whence all blessings emanated, any but the soundest, the most healthy, fat and beautiful animals; which were always examined with the closest and most exact attention. this ceremonial, which doubtless had its origin in gratitude, or in some ideas of fitness and propriety, at length, degenerated into trifling niceties and superstitious ceremonies. and it having been once imagined that no favour was to be looked for from the gods, when the victim was imperfect, the idea of perfection was united with abundance of trivial circumstances. the entrails were examined with peculiar care, and if the whole was without blemish, their duties were fulfilled; under an assurance that they had engaged the gods to be on their side, they engaged in war, and in the most hazardous undertakings, with such a confidence of success, as had the greatest tendency to procure it. all the motions of the victims that were led to the altar, were considered as so many prophecies. if the victim advanced with an easy and natural air, in a straight line, and without offering any resistance,--if he made no extraordinary bellowing when he received the blow,--if he did not get loose from the person who led him to the sacrifice, it was deemed a certain prognostic of an easy and flowing success. the victim was knocked down, but before its belly was ripped open, one of the lobes of the liver was allotted to those who offered the sacrifice, and the other to the enemies of the state. that which was neither blemished nor withered, of a bright red, and neither smaller nor larger than it ought to be, prognosticated great prosperity to those for whom it was set apart; that which was livid, small or corrupted, presaged the most fatal mischiefs. the next thing to be considered was the heart, which was also examined with the utmost care, as was the spleen, the gall, and the lungs; and if any of these were let fall, if they smelt rank or were bloated, livid or withered, it presaged nothing but misfortunes. after the examination of the entrails was over, the fire was kindled, and from this also they drew several presages. if the flame was clear, if it mounted up without dividing, and went not out till the victim was entirely consumed, this was a proof that the sacrifice was accepted; but if they found it difficult to kindle the fire, if the flame divided, if it played around instead of taking bold of the victim, if it burnt ill, or went out, it was a bad omen. the business, however, of the aruspices was not confined to the altars and sacrifices, they had an equal right to explain all other portents. the senate frequently consulted them on the most extraordinary prodigies. the college of the aruspices, as well as those of the other religious orders, had their registers and records, such as memorials of thunder and lightning,[ ] the tuscan histories,[ ] etc. divisions op divination by the ancients--prodigies, etc. divination was divided by the ancients into artificial and natural. the first is conducted by reasoning upon certain external signs, considered as indications of futurity; the other consists in that which presages things from a mere internal sense, and persuasion of the mind, without any assistance of signs; and is of two kinds, the one from nature, and the other by influx. the first supposes that the soul, collected within itself, and not diffused or divided among the organs of the body, has from its own nature and essence, some fore-knowledge of future things; witness, for instance, what is seen in dreams, ecstasies, and on the confines of death. the second supposes the soul after the manner of a mirror to receive some secondary illumination from the presence of god and other spirits. artificial divination is also of two kinds: the one argues from natural causes, as in the predictions of physicians relative to the event of diseases, from the tongue, pulse, etc. the second the consequence of experiments and observations arbitrarily instituted, and is mostly superstitious. the systems of divination reduceable under these heads are almost incalculable. among these were the augurs or those who drew their knowledge of futurity from the flight, and various other actions of birds; the aruspices, from the entrails of beasts; palmestry or the lines of the hands; points marked at random; numbers, names, the motions of a scene, the air, fire, the praenestine, homerian, and virgilian lots, dreams, etc. whoever reads the roman historians[ ] must be surprised at the number of prodigies which are constantly recorded, and which frequently filled the people with the most dreadful apprehensions. it must be confessed, that some of these seem altogether supernatural; while much the greater part only consist of some of the uncommon productions of nature, which superstition always attributed to a superior cause, and represented as the prognostication of some impending misfortunes. of this class may be reckoned the appearance of two suns, the nights illuminated by rays of light, the views of fighting armies, swords, and spears, darting through the air; showers of milk, of blood, of stones, of ashes, of frogs, beasts with two heads, or infants who had some feature resembling those of the brute creation. these were all dreadful prodigies, which filled the people with inexpressible astonishment, and the roman empire with an extreme perplexity; and whatever unhappy circumstance followed upon these, was sure to be either caused or predicted by them.[ ] footnotes: [ ] homer gives the same account of those ceremonies, when ulysses raised the soul of tiresias; and the same usages are found in the poem of silius italicus. and to these ceremonies the scriptures frequently allude, when the israelites are forbid to assemble upon high places. [ ] the magical slumbers produced in the cave of trophonius are justly ascribed to medicated beverages. here, the votary if he escaped with life, had his health irreparably injured, and the whole class of artificial dreams and visions, the effect of some powerful narcotic acting upon the body after the mind had been predisposed for a certain train of ideas. [ ] the _sortes praenestinae_ were famous among the greeks. the method by which these lots were conducted was to put so many letters or even whole words, into an urn; to shake them together, and throw them out; and whatever should chance to be made out in the arrangement of these letters or words, composed the answer of the oracle. the ancients also made use of dice, drawing tickets, etc., in casting or deciding results. in the old testament we meet with many standing and perpetual laws, and a number of particular commands, prescribing and regulating the use of them. we are informed by the scripture that when a successor to judas in the apostolate was to be chosen, the lot fell on st. mathias. and the garment or coat without a seam of our saviour was lotted for by the jews. in cicero's time this mode of divination was at a very low ebb. the _sortes homericae_ and _sortes virgilianae_ which succeeded the _sortes praenestinae_, gave rise to the same means used among christians of casually opening the sacred books for directions in important circumstances; to learn the consequence of events and what they had to fear among their rulers. [ ] kennet's roman antiquities, lib. xi, c. . [ ] romulus, who founded the institution of the aruspices, borrowed it from the tuscans, to whom the senate afterwards sent twelve of the sons of the principal nobility to be instructed in these mysteries, and the other ceremonies of their religion. the origin of this act among the people of tuscany, is related by cicero in the following manner: "a peasant," says he, "ploughing in the field, his ploughshare running pretty deep in the earth, turned up a clod, from whence sprung a child, who taught him and the other tuscans the art of divination." (cicero, de divinat. l. .) this fable, undoubtedly means no more, than that this child, said to spring from the clod of earth, was a youth of a very mean and obscure birth, but it is not known whether he was the author of it, or whether he learnt it of the greeks or any other nations. [ ] particularly livy, dionysius of halicarnassus, pliny, and valerius maximus. [ ] nothing is more easy than to account for these productions, which have no relation to any events that may happen to follow them. the appearance of two suns has frequently happened in england, as well as in other places, and is only caused by the clouds being placed in such a situation, as to reflect the image of that luminary; nocturnal fires, enflamed spears, fighting armies, were no more than what we call the aurora borealis or northern lights, or ignited vapours floating in the air; showers of stones, of ashes, or of fire, were no other than the effects of the eruptions of some volcano at a considerable distance; showers of milk were caused by some quality in the air, condensing, and giving a whitish colour to the water; and those of blood are now well known to be only the red spots left upon the earth, on stones and leaves of trees, by the butterflies which hatch in hot and stormy weather. chapter iv. history of oracles--the principal oracles of antiquity. few superstitions have been so famous, and so seductive to the minds of men during a number of ages, as oracles. in treaties of peace or truces, the greeks never forgot to stipulate for the liberty of resorting to oracles. no colony undertook new settlements, no war was declared, no important affair begun, without first consulting the oracles. the most renowned oracles were those of delphos, dodona, trophonius, jupiter hammon, and the clarian apollo. some have attributed the oracles of dodona to oaks, others to pigeons. the opinion of those pigeon-prophetesses was introduced by the equivocation of a thessalian word, which signified both a pigeon and a woman; and gave room to the fable, that two pigeons having taken wing from thebes, one of them fled into lybia, where it occasioned the establishing of the oracle of jupiter hammon; and the other, having stopped in the oaks of the forest of dodona, informed the inhabitants of the neighbouring parts, that it was jupiter's intention there should be an oracle in that place. herodotus has thus explained the fable: there were formerly two priestesses of thebes, who were carried off by phenecian merchants. she that was sold into greece, settled in the forest of dodona, where great numbers of the ancient inhabitants of greece went to gather acorns. she there erected a little chapel at the foot of an oak, in honour of the same jupiter, whose priestess she had been; and here it was this ancient oracle was established, which in after times became so famous. the manner of delivering the oracles of dodona was very singular. there were a great number of kettles suspended from trees near a copper statue, which was also suspended with a hunch of rods in its hand. when the wind happened to put it in motion, it struck the first kettle, which communicating its motion to the next, all of them tingled, and produced a certain sound which continued for a long time; after which the oracle spoke. the oracle op jupiter hammon. this oracle, which was in the desert, in the midst of the burning sands of africa, declared to alexander that jupiter was his father. after several questions, having asked if the death of his father was suddenly revenged, the oracle answered, that the death of philip was revenged, but that the father of alexander was immortal. this oracle gave occasion to lucan to put great sentiments in the mouth of cato. after the battle of pharsalia, when cesar began to be master of the world. labrenus said to cato: "as we have now so good an opportunity of consulting so celebrated an oracle, let us know from it how to regulate our conduct during this war. the gods will not declare themselves more willingly for any one than cato. you have always been befriended by the gods, and may therefore have the confidence to converse with jupiter. inform yourselves of the destiny of the tyrant and the fate of our country; whether we are to preserve our liberty, or to lose the fruit of the war; and you may learn too what that virtue is to which you have been elevated, and what its reward." cato, full of the divinity that was within him, returned to labrenus an answer worthy of an oracle: "on what account, labrenus, would you have me consult jupiter? shall i ask him whether it be better to lose life than liberty? whether life be a real good? we have within us, labrenus, an oracle that can answer all these questions. nothing happens but by the order of god. let us not require of him to repeat to us what he has sufficiently engraved in our hearts. truth has not withdrawn into those deserts; it is not graved on those sands. the abode of god is in heaven, in the earth, in the sea, and in virtuous hearts. god speaks to us by all that we see, by all that surrounds us. let the inconstant and those that are subject to waver, according to events, have recourse to oracles. for my part, i find in nature every thing that can inspire the most constant resolution. the dastard, as well as the brave, cannot avoid death. jupiter cannot tell us more." cato thus spoke, and quitted the country without consulting the oracle. the oracle of delphos, or pythian apollo. diodorus siculus, plutarch, and several other authors relate, that a herd of goats discovered the oracle of delphos, or of the pythian apollo. when a goat happened to come near enough the cavern to breathe air that passed out of it, she returned skipping and bounding about, and her voice articulated some extraordinary sounds; which having been observed by the keepers, they went to look in, and were seized with a fury which made them jump about, and foretel future events. coretas, as plutarch tells, was the name of the goat-herd who discovered the oracle. one of the guardians of demetrius, coming too near the mouth of the cavern, was suffocated by the force of the exhalations, and died suddenly. the orifice or vent-hole of the cave was covered with a tripod consecrated to apollo, on which the priestesses, called pythonesses,[ ] sat, to fill themselves with the prophetic vapour, and to conceive the spirit of divination, with the fervor that made them know futurity, and foretel it in greek hexameters. plutarch says, that, on the cessation of oracles, a pythoness was so excessively tormented by the vapour, and suffered such violent convulsions, that all the priests ran away, and she died soon after. ceremonies practised on consulting oracles. pausanias describes the ceremonies that were practiced for consulting the oracle of trophonius. every man that went down into his cave, never laughed his whole life after. this gave occasion to the proverbial saying concerning those of a melancholy air: "he has consulted trophonius." plato relates, that the two brothers, agamedes and trophonius, having built the temple of apollo, and asked the god for a reward what he thought of most advantage to men, both died in the night that succeeded their prayer. pausanias gives us a quite different account. in the palace there built for the king hyrieus, they so laid a stone, that it might be taken away, and in the night they crept in through the hole they had thus contrived, to steal the king's treasures. the king observing the quantity of his gold diminished, though no locks nor seals had been broken open, fixed traps about his coffers, and agamedes being caught in one of them, trophonius cut off his head to prevent his discovering him. trophonius having disappeared that moment, it was given out that the earth had swallowed him on the same spot; and impious superstition went so far as to place this wicked wretch in the rank of the gods, and to consult his oracle with ceremonies equally painful and mysterious. tacitus thus speaks of the oracle of the clarian apollo: germanicus went to consult the oracle of claros. it is not a woman that delivers the oracle there, as at delphos, but a man chosen out of certain families, and always of miletum. it is sufficient to tell him the number and names of those who come to consult him; whereupon he retires into a grot, and having taken some water out of a well that lies hid in it, he answers you in verses to whatever you have thought of, though this man is often very ignorant. dion cassius explains the manner in which the oracle of nymphoea, in epirus, delivered its responses. the party that consulted took incense, and having prayed, threw the incense into the fire, the flame pursued and consumed it. but if the affair was not to succeed, the incense did not come near the fire, or if it fell into the flame, it started out and fled. it so happened for prognosticating futurity, in regard to every thing that was asked, except death and marriage, about which it was not allowed to ask any questions. those who consulted the oracle of amphiarus, lay on the skins of victims, and received the answer of the oracle in a dream. virgil attests the same thing of the oracle of faunus in italy. a governor of cilicia, who gave little credit to oracles, and who was always surrounded by unbelieving epicureans sent a letter sealed with his signet to the oracle of mopsus, requiring one of those answers that were received in a dream. the messenger charged with the letter brought it back in the same condition, not having been opened; and informed him, that he had seen in a dream a very well made man, who said to him 'black' without the addition of even another word. then the governor opening the letter, assured the company, that he wanted to know of the divinity, whether he should sacrifice a white or black bull. in the temple of the goddess of syria, when the statue of apollo was inclined to deliver oracles, it deviated, moved, and was full of agitations on its pedestals. then the priests carrying it on their shoulders, it pushed and turned them on all sides, and the high-priest, interrogating it on all sorts of affairs, if it refused its consent, it drove the priests back; if otherwise, it made them advance. suetonius says, that, some months before the birth of augustus, an oracle was current, importing, that nature was labouring at the production of a king, who would be master of the roman empire; that the senate in great consternation, had forbid the rearing of any male children who should be born that year, but that the senators whose wives were pregnant, found means to hinder the inscribing of the decree in the public registers. it seems that the prediction, of which augustus was only the type, regarded the birth of jesus christ, the spiritual king of the whole world; or that the wicked spirit was willing, by suggesting this rigorous decree to the senate, to depose herod; and by this example, to involve the messiah in the massacre that was made by his orders of all the children of two years and under. the whole world was then full of the coming of the messiah. we see by virgil's fourth eclogue, that he applies to the son of the consul asinius pollio the prophecies which, from the jews, had then passed into foreign nations. this child the object of virgil's flattery, died the ninth day after he was born. tacitus, suetonius, and josephus, applied to vespasian the prophecies that regarded the messiah. oracles often equivocal and obscure. the oracles, were often very equivocal, or so obscure that their signification was not understood but after the event. a few examples, out of a great many, will be sufficient. croesus, having received from the pythoness, this answer, that by passing the river halys, he would destroy a great empire, he understood it to be the empire of his enemy, whereas he destroyed his own. the oracle consulted by pyrrhus, gave him an answer, which might be equally understood of the victory of pyrrhus, and the victory of the romans his enemies. aio te aeacida, romanos vincere posse. the equivocation lies in the construction of the latin tongue, which cannot be rendered in english. the pythoness advises croesus to guard against the mule.[ ] the king of lydia understood nothing of the oracle, which denoted cyrus descended from two different nations, from the medes by mandana his mother, the daughter of astyages; and by the persians by his father cambyses, whose race was by far less grand and illustrious. nero had for answer from the oracle of delphos, that seventy-three might prove fatal to him, he believed he was safe from all danger till age, but, finding himself deserted by every one, and hearing galba proclaimed emperor, who was seventy-three years of age, he was sensible of the deceit of the oracle. st. jerome observes, that, if the devils speak any truth, by whatever accident they always join lies to it and use such ambiguous expressions, that they may be equally applied to contrary events. urim and thummim. whilst the false oracles of demons deceived the idolatrous nations, truth had retired from among the chosen people of god. the septuagint have interpreted _urim_ and _thummim_, manifestation and truth, [greek: daelosin is alaetheian]; which expresses how different those divine oracles were from the false and equivocal demons. it is said, in the book of numbers, that eleazar, the successor of aaron, shall interrogate urim in form, and that a resolution shall be taken according to the answer given. the ephod applied to the chest of the sacerdotal vestments of the high-priest, was a piece of stuff covered with twelve precious stones, on which the names of the twelve tribes were engraved. it was not allowed to consult the lord by urim and thummim, but for the king, the president of the sanhedrim, the general of the army, and other public persons, and on affairs that regarded the general interest of the nation. if the affair was to succeed, the stones of the ephod emitted a sparkling light, or the high-priest inspired predicted the success. josephus, who was born thirty-nine years after christ, says that it was then two hundred years since the stones of the ephod had given an answer to consultations by their extraordinary lustre. the scriptures only inform us, that urim and thummim were something that moses had put in the high-priest's breast-plate. some rabbins by rash conjectures, have believed that they were two small statues hidden within the breast-plate; others, the ineffable name of god, graved in a mysterious-manner. without designing to discern what has not been explained to us, we should understand by _urim_ and _thummim_, the divine inspiration annexed to the consecrated breast-plate. several passages of scripture leave room to believe, that an articulate voice came forth from the propitiatory, or holy of holies, beyond the veil of the tabernacle, and that this voice was heard by the high-priest. if the urim and thummim did not make answer, it was a sign of god's anger. saul abandoned by the spirit of the lord, consulted it in vain, and obtained no sort of answer. it appears by some passages of st. john's gospel, that in the time of christ, the exercise of the chief-priesthood, was still attended with the gift of prophecy. reputation of oracles, how lost. when men began to be better instructed by the lights philosophy had introduced into the world, the false oracles insensibly lost their credit. chrysippus filled an entire volume with false or doubtful oracles. oenomanus,[ ] to be revenged of some oracle that had deceived him, made a compilation of oracles, to shew their absurdity and vanity. but oenomanus is still more out of humour with the oracle for the answer which apollo gave the athenians, when xerxes was about to attack greece with all the strength of asia. the pythian declared, that minerva, the protectress of athens, had endeavoured in vain to appease the wrath of jupiter; yet that jupiter, in complaisance with his daughter, was willing the athenians should secure themselves within wooden walls; and that salamis should behold the loss of a great many children, dead to their mothers, either when ceres was spread abroad, or gathered together. at this oenomanus loses all patience with the delphian god: "this contest," exclaims he, "between father and daughter, is very becoming the deities! it is excellent that there should be contrary inclinations and interests in heaven! poor wizzard, thou art ignorant who the children are that shall see salamis perish; whether greeks or persians. it is certain they must either be one or the other; but thou needest not have told so openly that thou knowest not what. thou concealest the time of the battle under these fine poetical expressions '_either when ceres is spread abroad, or gathered together_:' and thou wouldst cajole us with such pompous language! who knows not that if there be a sea-fight, it must either be in seed-time or harvest? it is certain it cannot be in winter. let things go how they will, thou wilt secure thyself by this jupiter whom minerva is endeavouring to appease. if the greeks lose the battle, jupiter proved inexorable to the last; if they gain it, why then minerva at length prevailed."[ ] eusebius has preserved some fragments of this criticism on oracles by oenomanus. "i might," says origen, "have recourse to the authority of aristotle, and the peripatetics, to make the pythoness much suspected. i might extract from the writings of epicurus and his sectators an abundance of things to discredit oracles; and i might shew that the greeks themselves made no great account of them." the reputation of oracles was greatly lessened when they became an artifice of politics. themistocles, with a design of engaging the athenians to quit athens, in order to be in a better condition to resist xerxes, made the pythoness deliver an oracle, commanding them to take refuge in wooden walls. demosthenes said, that the pythoness philippised, to signify that she was gained over by philip's presents. cessation of oracles. the cessation of oracles is attested by several prophane authors, as strabo, juvenal, lucien. lucan, and others, plutarch accounts for the cause of it, either that the benefits of the gods are not eternal, as themselves are; or that the genii who presided over oracles, are subject to death; or that the exhalations of the earth had been exhausted. it appears that the last reason had been alleged in the time of cicero, who ridicules it in his second book of divination, as if the spirit of prophecy, supposed to be excited by subterranean effluvia, had evaporated by length of time, as wine or pickle by being kept is lost. suidas, nicephorus, and cedrenus relate, that augustus having consulted the oracle of delphos, could obtain no other answer but this: 'the hebrew child whom all the gods obey, drives me hence, and sends me back to hell: get out of this temple without speaking one word.' suidas adds, that augustus dedicated an altar in the capitol, with the following inscription: "_to the eldest son of god_." notwithstanding these testimonies, the answer of the oracle of delphos to augustus seems very suspicious. cedrenus cites eusebius for this oracle, which is not now found in his works; and augustus' peregrination into greece was eighteen years before the birth of christ. suidas and cedrenus give an account also of an ancient oracle delivered to thules, a king of egypt, which they say is well authenticated. this king having consulted the oracle of seraphis, to know if there ever was, or would be, one so great as himself, received this answer:--"first, god, next the word, and the spirit with them. they are equally eternal, and make but one whose power will never end. but thou, mortal, go hence, and think that the end of man's life is uncertain." van dale, in his treatise of oracles, does not believe that they ceased at the coming of christ. he relates several examples of oracles consulted till the death of theodosius the great. he quotes the laws of the emperors theodosius, gratian, and valentinian, against those who consulted oracles, as a certain proof that the superstition of oracles still existed in the time of those emperors. had demons any share in the oracles? the opinion of those who believe that the demons had no share in the oracles, and that the coming of the messiah made no change in them: and the contrary opinion of those who pretend that the incarnation of the word imposed a general silence on oracles, should be equally rejected. the reasons appear from what has been said, and therefore two sorts of oracles ought to be distinguished, the one dictated by the spirits of darkness, who deceived men by their obscure and doubtful answers, the other the pure artifice and deceit of the priests of false divinities.[ ] as to the oracles given out by demons, the reign of satan was destroyed by the coming of the saviour; truth shut the mouth of falsehood; but satan continued his old craft among idolaters. all the devils were not forced to silence at the same time by the coming of the messiah; it was on particular occasions that the truth of christianity, and the virtue of christians imposed silence on the devils. st. athanasius tells the pagans, they have been witnesses themselves that the sign of the cross puts the devils to flight, silences oracles, and dissipates enchantments. this power of silencing oracles, and putting the devils to flight, is also attested by arnobius, lactantius, prudentius, minutius, felix, and several others. their testimony is a certain proof that the coming of the messiah had not imposed a general silence on oracles. the emperor julian, called the apostate, consulting the oracle of apollo, in the suburbs of antioch, the devil could make him no other answer, than that the body of st. babylas, buried in the neighbourhood, imposed silence on him. the emperor, transported with rage and vexation, resolved to revenge his gods, by eluding a solemn prediction of christ. he ordered the jews to rebuild the temple of jerusalem; but in beginning to dig the foundations, balls of fire burst out, and consumed the artificers, their tools and materials. these facts are attested by ammianus marcellinus, a pagan, and the emperor's historian; and by st. chrysostom, st. gregory nazianzen, and theodoret, sozomen and socrates, in their ecclesiastical histories. the sophist libanius, who was an enemy of the christians, confessed also that st. babylas had silenced the oracle of apollo, in the suburbs of antioch. plutarch relates that the pilot thamus heard a voice in the air, crying out:--"the great pan is dead:" whereupon eusebius observes, that the deaths of the demons were frequent in the reign of tiberius, when christ drove out the wicked spirits. the same judgments may be passed on oracles as on possessions. it was on particular occasions, by the divine permission, that the christians cast out devils, or silenced oracles, in the presence and even by the confession of the pagans themselves. and thus it is we should, it seems, understand the passages of st. jerom, eusebius, cyril, theodoret, prudentius, and other authors, who said, that the coming of christ had imposed silence on the oracles. of oracles, the artifices op priests op false divinities. as regards the second sort of oracles, which were pure artifices and cheats of the priests of false divinities, and which probably exceeded the numbers of those that immediately proceed from demons, they did not cease till idolatry was abolished, though they had lost their credit for a considerable time before the coming of christ. it was concerning this more common and general sort of oracles that minutius felix said, they began to discontinue their responses, according as men began to be more polite. but, howsoever decried oracles were, impostors always found dupes; the grossest cheats having never failed. daniel discovered the imposture of the priests of bel, who had a private way of getting into the temple, to take away the offered meats, and made the king believe that the idol consumed them. mundus, being in love with paulina, the eldest of the priestesses of isis, went and told her that the god anubis, being passionately fond of her, commanded her to give him a meeting. she was afterwards shut up in a dark room, where her lover mundus (whom she believed to be the god anubis,) was concealed. this imposture having been discovered, tiberius ordered those detestable priests and priestesses to be crucified, and with them iolea mundus's free woman, who had conducted the whole intrigue. he also commanded the temple of isis to be levelled with the ground, her statue to be thrown into the tiber, and, as to mundus, he contented himself with sending him into banishment. theophilus, bishop of alexandria, not only destroyed the temples of the gods, but discovered the cheats of the priests, by shewing that the statues, some of which were of brass, and others of wood, were hollow within, and led into dark passages made in the wall. lucius in discovering the impostures of the false prophet alexander, says, that the oracles were chiefly afraid of the subtilties of the epicureans and christians. the false prophet alexander sometimes feigned himself seized with a divine fury, and by means of the herb sopewort, which he chewed, frothed at the mouth in so extraordinary a manner, that the ignorant people attributed it to the power of the god he was possessed by. he had long before prepared the head of a dragon made of linen, which opened and shut its mouth by means of a horses hair. he went by night to a place where the foundations of a temple were digging, and having found water, either of a spring or rain that had settled there, he hid in it a goose egg, in which he had inclosed a little serpent that had just been hatched. the next day, very early in the morning, he came quite naked into the street, having only a scarf about his middle, holding in his hand a scythe, and tossing about his hair as the priests of cybele; then getting on the top of a high altar, he said that the place was happy to be honoured by the birth of a god. afterwards running down to the place where he had hid the goose egg, and going into the water, he began to sing the praises of apollo and aesculapius, and to invite the latter to come and shew himself to men; with these words he dips a bowl into the water and takes out a mysterious egg, which had a god enclosed in it, and when he held it in his hand, he began to say that he held aesculapius, whilst all were eager to have a sight of this fine mystery, he broke the egg, and the little serpent starting out, twisted itself about his fingers. these examples shew clearly, that both christians and pagans were so far agreed as to treat the greater number of oracles as purely human impostures. from the very nature of things, much that now serves for amusement must formerly have been appropriated to a higher destination. ventriloquism may be quoted as a case in point, affording a ready and plausible solution of the oracular stones and oaks, of the reply which the seer nessus addressed to pythagoras, (jamblichus, vit. pyth. xxxiii.) and of the tree which at the command of the gymnosophists, of upper egypt, spoke to apollonius, "the voice," says philostratus (vit. ap. xi. ) "was distinct but weak, and similar to the voice of a woman." but the oracles, at least if we ascend to their origin, were not altogether impostures. the pretended interpreters of the decrees of destiny were frequently plunged into a sort of delirium, and when inhaling the fumes of some intoxicating drug or powerful gas or vapour, or drinking some beverage which produced a temporary suspension of the reason, the mind of the enquirer was predisposed to feverish dreams:[ ] if priestcraft were concerned in the interpretation of such dreams, or eliciting senses from the wild effusions of the disordered brain of the pythoness, science presided over the investigation of the causes of this phrenzy, and the advantages which the thaumaturgists might derive from it. jamblicus states (de mysterius c. xxix) that for obtaining a revelation from the deity in a dream, the youngest and most simple creatures were the most proper for succeeding: they were prepared for it by magical invocations and fumigations of particular perfumes. porphyry declares that these proceedings had an influence on the imagination; jamblicus that they rendered them more worthy of the inspiration of the deity. footnotes: [ ] the responses here were delivered by a young priestess called pythia or phoebas, placed on a tripos, or stool with three feet, called also cortina, from the skin of the serpent python with which it was covered, it is uncertain after what manner these oracles were delivered, though cicero supposes the pythoness was inspired, or rather intoxicated by certain vapours which ascended from the cave. some say that the pythoness being once debauched, the oracles were afterwards delivered by an old woman in the dress of a young maid. [ ] this answer of the oracle brings to our recollection the equally remarkable injunction of a modern seer to sir william windham, which is related in the memoirs of bishop newton. "in his younger years, when sir william was abroad upon his travels, and was at venice, there was a noted fortune-teller, to whom great numbers resorted, and he among the rest; and the fortune-teller told him, that he must beware of a white horse. after his return to england, as he was walking by charing-cross, he saw a crowd of people coming out and going in to a house, and inquired what was the meaning of it, was informed that duncan campbell, the dumb fortune-teller lived there. his curiosity also led him in, and duncan campbell likewise told him that he must beware of a white horse. it was somewhat extraordinary that two fortune-tellers, one at venice and the other in london, without any communication, and at some distance of time, should both happen to hit upon the same thing, and to give the very same warning. some years afterwards, when he was taken up in , and committed to the tower upon suspicion of treasonable practices, which never appeared, his friends said to him that his fortune wan now fulfilled, the hanover house was the white horse whereof he was admonished to beware. but some time after this, he had a fall from a white horse, and received a blow by which he lost the sight of one of his eyes." [ ] "when we come to consult thee," says he to apollo, "if thou seest what is in the womb of futurity, why dost thou use expressions which will not be understood? if thou dost, thou takest pleasure in abusing us: if thou dost not, be informed of us, and learn to speak more clearly. i tell thee, that if thou intendest an equivoque, the greek word whereby thou affirmest that croesus should overthrow a great empire, was ill-chosen; and that it could signify nothing but croesus conquering cyrus. if things must necessarily come to pass, why dost thou amuse us with thy ambiguities? what dost thou, wretch as thou art, at delphi, employed in muttering idle prophecies!"--see "_demonologia, or natural knowledge revealed_" p. . [ ] see _demonologia_, p, . [ ] "among the more learned, it is a pretty general opinion that all the oracles were mere cheats and impostures; calculated either to serve the avaricious ends of the heathenish priests, or the political views of the princes. bayle positively asserts, that they were mere human artifices, in which the devil had no hand. in this opinion he is strongly supported by van dale, a dutch physician, and m. fontenelle, who have expressly written on the subject."--_vide demonologia_, op. citat. p. . [ ] we learn from herodotus (iv. ) that the scythians and tartars intoxicated themselves by inhaling the vapour of a species of hemp thrown upon red hot stones. and the odour of the seeds of henbane alone, when its power is augmented by heat, produces a choleric and quarrelsome disposition, in those who inhale the vapour arising from them in this state. and in the "dictionnaire de médecine," (de l'encyclopédie méthodique, vii, art. jusquiaume) instances are quoted, the most remarkable of which is, that if a married pair who, though living in perfect harmony every where else, could never remain for a few hours in the room where they worked without quarrelling. the apartment of course was thought to be bewitched, until it was discovered that a considerable quantity of seeds of henbane were deposited near the stove, which was the cause of their daily dissensions, the removal of which put an end to their bickerings. the same effects that were produced by draughts and fumigations would follow from the application of liniments, of "magical unctions," acting through the absorbent system, as if they had been introduced into the stomach: allusions to these ointments are constantly recurring in ancient authors. philostratus, in his life of apollonius (iii. ) states that the bodies of his companions, before being admitted to the mysteries of the indian sages, were rubbed over with so active an oil, that it appeared as if they were bathed with fire. chapter v. the british druids, or magi--origin of fairies--ancient superstitions----their skill in medecine, &c. the british druids, like the indian gymnosophists, or the persian magi, had two sets of doctrines; the first for the initiated; the second for the people. that there is one god the creator of heaven and earth, was a secret doctrine of the brachmans. and the nature and perfection of the deity were among the druidical arcana. among the sublimer tenets of the druidical priesthood, we have every where apparent proofs of their polytheism: and the grossness of their religious ideas, as represented by some writers, is very inconsistent with that divine philosophy which has been considered as a part of their character. these, however, were popular divinities which the druids ostensibly worshipped, and popular notions which they ostensibly adopted, in conformity with the prejudices of the vulgar. the druids well knew that the common people were no philosophers. there is reason also, to think that a great part of the idolatries were not sanctioned by the druids, but afterwards introduced by the phoenician colony. but it would be impossible to say how far the primitive druids accommodated themselves to vulgar superstition, or to separate their exterior doctrines and ceremonies from the fables and absurd rites of subsequent times. it would be vain to attempt to enumerate their gods: in the eye of the vulgar they defied everything around them. they worshipped the spirits of the mountains, the vallies, and the rivers. every rock and every spring were either the instruments or the objects of admiration. the moonlight vallies of danmonium were filled with the fairy people, and its numerous rivers were the resort of genii. the fiction of fairies is supposed to have been brought, with other extravagancies of a like nature from the eastern nations, whilst the europeans and christians were engaged in the holy war: such at least is the notion of an ingenious writer, who thus expresses himself: "nor were the monstrous embellishments of enchantments the invention of romancers, but formed upon eastern tales, brought thence by travellers from their crusades and pilgrimages, which indeed, have a cast peculiar to the wild imagination of the eastern people."[ ] that fairies, in particular, came from the east, we are assured by that learned orientalist, m. herbelot, who tells us that the persians called the fairies _peri_, and the arabs _genies_, that according: to the eastern fiction, there is a certain country inhabited by fairies, called gennistan, which answers to our _fairy-land_.[ ] mr. martin, in his observations on spencer's fairy queen, is decided in his opinion, that the fairies came from the east; but he justly remarks, that they were introduced into the country long before the period of the crusades. the race of fairies, he informs us, was established in europe in very early times, but, "_not universally_." the fairies were confined to the north of europe--to the _ultima thule_--to the _british isles_--to the _divisis orbe britannis_. they were unknown at this remote era to the gauls or the germans: and they were probably familiar to the vallies of scotland and danmonium, when gaul and germany were yet unpeopled either by real or imaginary beings. the belief indeed, of such invisible agents assigned to different parts of nature, prevails at this very day in scotland, devonshire and cornwall, regularly transmitted from the remotest antiquity to the present times, and totally unconnected with the spurious romance of the crusader or the pilgrim. hence those superstitious notions now existing in our western villages, where the spriggian[ ] are still believed to delude benighted travellers, to discover hidden treasures, to influence the weather, and to raise the winds. "this," says warton, "strengthens the hypotheses of the northern, parts of europe being peopled by colonies from the east!" the inhabitants of shetland and the isles pour libations of milk or beer through a holed-stone, in honour of the spirit brownie; and it is probable the danmonii were accustomed to sacrifice to the same spirit, since the cornish and the devonians on the border of cornwall, invoke to this day the spirit brownie, on the swarming of their bees. with respect to rivers, it is a certain fact that the primitive britons paid them divine honours; even now, in many parts of devonshire and cornwall, the vulgar may be said to worship brooks and wells, to which they resort at stated periods, performing various ceremonies in honour of those consecrated waters: and the highlanders, to this day, talk with great respect of the genius of the sea; never bathe in a fountain, lest the elegant spirit that resides in it should be offended and remove; and mention not the water of rivers without prefixing to it the name of _excellent_; and in one of the western islands the inhabitants retained the custom, to the close of the last century, of making an annual sacrifice to the genius of the ocean. that at this day the inhabitants of india deify their principal rivers is a well known fact; the waters of the ganges possess an uncommon sanctity; and the modern arabians, like the ishmaelites of old, concur with the danmonii in their reverence of springs and fountains. even the names of the arabian and danmonian wells have a striking correspondence. we have the _singing-well_; or the _white-fountain_, and there are springs with similar names in the deserts of arabia. perhaps the veneration of the danmonii for fountains and rivers may be accepted as no trivial proof, to be thrown into the mass of circumstantial evidence, in favour of their eastern original. that the arabs in their thirsty deserts, should even adore their wells of "springing water," need not excite our surprise, but we may justly wonder at the inhabitants of devonshire and cornwall thus worshipping the gods of numerous rivers, and never failing brooks, familiar to every part of danmonium. the principal times of devotion among the druids were either mid-day or midnight. the officiating druid was cloathed in a white garment that swept the ground; on his head, he wore the tiara; he had the _anguinum_ or serpent's egg, as the ensign of his order; his temples were encircled with a wreath of oak-leaves, and he waved in his hand the magic rod. as regards the druid sacrifice there are vague and contradictory representations. it is certain, however, that they offered human victims to their gods. they taught that the punishment of the wicked might be obliterated by sacrifices to baal.[ ] the sacrifice of the black sheep, therefore, was offered up for the souls of the departed, and various species of charms exhibited. traces of the holy fires, and fire worship of the druids[ ] may be observed in several customs, both of the devonians and the cornish; but in ireland may still be seen the holy fires in all their solemnity. the irish call the month of may _bel-tine_, or fire of belus; and the first of may lubel-tine, or the day of belus's fire. in an old irish glossary, it is mentioned that the druids of ireland used to light two solemn fires every year, through which all four-footed beasts were driven, as a preservative against contagious distempers. the irish have this custom at the present moment, they kindle the fire in the milking yards; men, women, and children pass through or leap over it, and their cattle are driven through the flames of the burning straw, on the _first of may_; and in the month of november, they have also their fire feasts when, according to the custom of the danmonians, as well as the irish druids, the hills were enveloped in flame. previously to this solemnity (on the eve of november) the fire in every private house was extinguished; hither, then, the people were obliged to resort, in order to rekindle it. the ancient persians named the month of november, _adur or fire_ adur, according to richardson was the angel presiding over that element, in consequence of which, on the ninth, his name-day, the country blazed all around with flaming piles, whilst the magi, by the injunction of zoroaster, visited with great solemnity all the temples of fire throughout the empire; which, on this occasion, were adorned and illuminated in a most splendid manner. hence our british illuminations in november had probably their origin. it was at this season that _baal samham_ called the souls to judgment, which, according to their deserts, were assigned to re-enter the bodies of men or brutes, and to be happy or miserable during their next abode on the earth. the primitive christians, attached to their pagan ceremonies, placed the feast of all-souls on the la samon, or the second of november. even now the peasants in ireland assemble on the vigil of la samon with sticks and clubs, going from house to house, collecting money, bread-cake, butter, cheese, eggs, etc., for the feast; repeating verses in honour of the solemnity, and calling for the black sheep. candles are sent from house to house and lighted up on the samon. (the next day.) every house abounds in the best viands the master can afford; apples and nuts are eaten in great plenty; the nutshells are burnt, and from the ashes many things are foretold. hempseed is sown by the maidens, who believe that, if they look back, they shall see the apparition of their intended husbands. the girls make various efforts to read their destiny; they hang a smock before the fire at the close of the feast, and sit up all night concealed in one corner of the room, expecting the apparition of the lover to come down the chimney and turn the _shimee_: they throw a ball of yarn out of the window, and wind it on the reel within, convinced that if they repeat the paternoster backwards, and look at the ball of yarn without, they shall then also see his apparition. those who celebrate this feast have numerous other rites derived from the pagans. they dip for apples in a tub of water, and endeavour to bring up one with their mouths; they catch at an apple when stuck on at one of the end of a kind of hanging beam, at the other extremity of which is fixed a lighted candle, and that with their mouths only, whilst it is in a circular motion, having their hands tied behind their backs.[ ] the british magi. the druids, who were the magi of the britons, had an infinite number of rites in common with the persians. one of the chief functions of the eastern magi, was divination; and pomponius mela tells us, that our druids possessed the same art. there was a solemn rite of divination among the druids from the fall of the victim and convulsions of his limbs, or the nature and position of his entrails. but the british priests had various kinds of divination. by the number of criminal causes, and by the increase or diminution of their own order, they predicted fertility or scarcity. from the neighing or prancing of white horses, harnessed to a consecrated chariot--from the turnings and windings of a hare let loose from the bosom of the diviner (with a variety of other ominous appearances or exhibitions) they pretended to determine the events of futurity.[ ] of all creatures the serpent exercised, in the most curious manner, the invention of the druids. to the famous _anguinum_ they attributed high virtues. the _anguinum_ or serpent's egg, was a congeries of small snakes rolled together, and incrusted with a shell, formed by the saliva or viscous gum, or froth of the mother serpent. this egg, it seems was tossed into the air, by the hissings of its dam, and before it fell again to the earth (where it would be defiled) it was to be received in the sagus or sacred vestment. the person who caught the egg was to make his escape on horseback, since the serpent pursues the ravisher of its young, even to the brink of the next river. pliny, from whom this account is taken (lib. . c. .) proceeds with an enumeration of other absurdities relating to the anguinum. this _anguinum_ is in british called _glain-neider_, or the serpent of glass; and the same superstitious reverence which the danmonii universally paid to the anguinum, is still discoverable in some parts of cornwall. mr. llhuyd informs us that "the cornish retain a variety of charms, and have still towards the land's-end, the amulets of maen-magal and glain-neider, which latter they call _melprer_, and have a charm for the snake to make it, when they find one asleep, and stick a hazel wand in the centre of her spirae," or coils. we are informed by cambden that, "in most parts of wales, and throughout all scotland and cornwall, it is an opinion of the vulgar, that about midsummer-eve (though in the time they do not all agree) the snakes meet in companies, and that by joining heads together and hissing, a kind of bubble is formed, which the rest, by continual hissing, blow on till it passes quite through the body, when it immediately hardens, and resembles a glass-ring, which whoever finds shall prosper in all his undertakings. the rings thus generated are called _gleiner-nadroeth_, or snake-stones. they are small glass amulets, commonly about half as wide as our finger rings, but much thicker, of a green colour usually, though sometimes blue, and waved with red and white." carew says, that "the country people, in cornwall, have a persuasion that the snake's breathing upon a hazel wand produces a stone ring of blue colour, in which there appears the yellow figure of a snake, and that beasts bit and envenomed, being given some water to drink wherein this stone has been infused, will perfectly recover the poison."[ ] from the animal, the druids passed to the vegetable world; and these also displayed their powers, whilst by the charms of the misletoe, the selago, and the samopis, they prevented or repelled diseases. from the undulation or bubbling of water stirred by an oak branch, or magic wand, they foretold events that were to come. the superstition of the druids is even now retained in the western counties. to this day, the cornish have been accustomed to consult their famous well at madem, or rather the _spirit_ of the well, respecting their future destiny. "hither," says borlase, "come the uneasy, impatient, and superstitious, and by dropping pins[ ] or pebbles into the water, and by shaking the ground round the spring, so as to raise bubbles from the bottom, at a certain time of the year, moon and day, endeavour to remove their uneasiness; yet the supposed responses serve equally to encrease the gloom of the melancholy, the suspicions of the jealous, and the passion of the enamoured. the castalian fountain, and many others among the grecians were supposed to be of a prophetic nature. by dipping a fair mirror into a well, the patraeans of greece received, as they supposed, some notice of ensuing sickness or health from the various figures pourtrayed upon the surface. the people of laconia cast into a pool, sacred to juno, cakes of bread corn: if the cakes sunk, good was portended; if they swam, something dreadful was to ensue. sometimes the superstitious threw three stones into the water, and formed their conclusions from the several turns they made in sinking." the druids were likewise able to communicate, by consecration, the most portentous virtues to rocks and stones, which could determine the succession of princes or the fate of empires. to the rocking or logan stone, several of which remain still in devonshire and cornwall, in particular, they had recourse to confirm their authority, either as prophets or judges, pretending that its motion was miraculous. these religious rites were celebrated in consecrated places and temples, in the midst of groves. the mysterious silence of an ancient wood diffuses even a shade of horror over minds that are yet superior to superstitious credulity. their temple was seldom any other than a wide circle of rocks perpendicularly raised. an artificial pile of large flat stone usually composed the altar; and the whole religious mountain was usually enclosed by a low mound, to prevent the intrusion of the profane. "there was something in the druidical species of heathenism," exclaims mr. whitaker, in a style truly oriental, "that was well calculated to arrest the attention and impress the mind. the rudely majestic circle of stones in their temples, the enormous cromlech, the massy logan, the huge carnedde, and the magnificent amphitheatre of woods, would all very strongly lay hold upon that religious thoughtfulness of soul, which has ever been so natural to man, amid all the wrecks of humanity--the monument of his former perfection!" that druidism, as existing originally in devonshire and cornwall, was immediately transported, in all its purity and perfection, from the east, seems extremely probable. among the sacred rites of the druids there were none more celebrated than that they used of the misletoe of the oak. they believed this tree was chosen by god himself. the misletoe was what they found but seldom: whenever, therefore, they met with it, they fetched it with great ceremony, and did it on the sixth day of the moon, with which day they began both their months and their years. they gave a name to this shrub, denoting that it had the virtue of curing all diseases. they sacrificed victims to it, believing that, by its virtue, the barren were made fruitful. they looked upon it likewise as a preservative against all poisons. thus do several nations of the world place their religion in the observation of trifles. the druids were also extremely superstitious in relation to the herb _selago_, which they reckoned a preservative against sore eyes, and almost all misfortunes. another herb called samotis, which they imagined had a virtue to prevent diseases among cattle, they were very ceremonious about gathering. the person was obliged to be clad in white, and was not suffered to handle it; and the ceremony was preceded by a sacrifice of bread and wine. the druids had another superstition amongst them, in regard to their serpents' eggs, which they supposed were formed of the saliva of many of those creatures, at a certain time of the moon: these they looked upon as a sure prognostic of getting the better of their enemies. these, with many other ridiculous fooleries, were imposed upon the credulous people, as they were very much attached to divination. the druids regarded the misletoe as an antidote against all poisons, and they preserved their selago against all misfortunes. the persians had the same confidence in the efficacy of several herbs, and used them in a similar manner. the druids cut their misletoe with a golden hook, and the persians cut the twigs of _ghez_, or _haulm_, called _bursam_, with a peculiar sort of concentrated knife. the candidates for the british throne had recourse to the fatal stone to determine their pretensions; and on similar occasions the persians had recourse to the _artizoe_. from every view of the druid religion, mr. polwhele concludes that it derived its origin from the persian magi. dr. borlasse has drawn a long and elaborate parallel between the druids and persians, where he has plainly proved that they resembled each other, as strictly as possible, in every particular of religion.[ ] footnotes: [ ] supplement to the translated preface to jarvis's don quixote. [ ] that the druids worshipped rocks, stones, and fountains, and imagined them inhabited, and actuated by _divine intelligences of a lower rank_, may plainly be inferred from their stone monuments. these inferior deities the cornish call _spriggian, or spirits_, which answer to genii or fairies; and the vulgar in cornwall still discourse of them, as of real beings. [ ] see macpherson's introduction to the history of great britain and ireland. [ ] this idol, which is called by the septuagint, baal, is mentioned in other parts of scripture by other names. to understand what this god was, we may observe, that the deities of the greeks and romans come from the east; and it is a tradition among the ancient and modern heathens that this idol was an obscure deity, which may plead excuse for not translating some passages concerning it; and this is agreeable to hosea (ix. ). they _went out_ into _baal pheor_, and _separated themselves to their shame_. and it is the opinion of jerome, who quotes it from an ancient tradition of the jews, that _baal pheor_ is the _priapus_ of the greeks and romans; and if you look into the vulgar latin ( kings xv. .) we shall find it thus rendered, _and asa, the king removed_ maacha, _his mother from being queen, that she might no longer be high priestess in the sacrifices of priapus_. and he destroyed the grove she had consecrated, and broke the most filthy idol, and burnt it at the brook _kedron_. dr. cumberland inserts, that the import of the word _peor_, or _baal pheor_, is he that shews boastingly or publicly, his nakedness. women to avoid barrenness, were to sit on this filthy image, as the source of fruitfulness; for which lactantius and augustine justly deride the heathens. [ ] there was an awful mysteriousness in the original druid sacrifice. descanting upon the human sacrifices of various countries, mr. bryant informs us, that among the nations of canaan, _the_ victims _were chosen in a peculiar manner_; their own children, and whatsoever was nearest and dearest to them, were thought the most worthy offerings to their gods! the carthagenians, who were a colony from tyre, carried with them the religion of their mother country and instituted the same worship in the parts where they were seated. parents offered up their own children as dearest to themselves, and therefore the more acceptable to the deity: they sacrificed "the fruit of their body for the sin of their soul," the druids, no doubt, were actuated with the same views. [ ] there is no sort of doubt that _baal_ and _fire_ were principal objects of the ceremonies and adoration of the druids. the principal season of these, and of their feasts in honour of baal, was new year's day, when the sun began visibly to return towards us; the custom is not yet at an end, the country people still burning out the old year and welcoming in the new by fires lighted on the top of hills, and other high places. the next season was the month of may, when the fruits of the earth began, in the eastern countries, to be gathered, and the first fruits of them consecrated to baal, or to the _sun_, whose benign influence had ripened them; and one is almost persuaded that the dance round the may pole, in that month, is a faint image of the rites observed on such occasions. the next great festival was on the st of june, when the sun, being in cancer, first appears to go backwards and leave us. on this occasion the baalim used to call the people together, and to light fires on high places, and to cause their sons, and their daughters, and their cattle to pass through the fire, calling upon baal to bless them, and not forsake them. [ ] in devonshire and cornwall it is still considered ominous if a hare crosses a person on the road. [ ] see _carew's survey of cornwall_, p. . mr. carew had a stone-ring of this kind in his possession, and the person who gave it to him avowed, that "he himself saw a part of the stick sticking in it,"--but "_penes authorem sit fides_," says mr. carew. [ ] the same superstition still exists in devonshire. [ ] see account of druidism in polewhele's historical views of devonshire, vol. . chapter vi. aesculapian mysteries, &c. apollo is said to have been one of the most gentle, and at the same time, as may be inferred from his numerous issue, one of the most gallant of the heathen deities. the first and most noted of his sons was aesculapius, whom he had by the nymph coronis. some say that apollo, on account of her infidelity, shot his mother when big with child with him; but repenting the fact, saved the infant, and gave him to chiron to be instructed in physic.[ ] others report, that as king phlegyas, her father was carrying her with him into peloponnesus, her pains surprised her on the confines of epidauria where, to conceal her shame, she exposed the infant on a mountain. the _truth_, however is, that this aesculapius was a poor infant cast away, a dropt child, laid in a wood near epidaurus, by his unnatural parents, who were afterwards ashamed to own him; he was shortly afterwards found by some huntsmen, who, seeing a lighted flame or glory surrounding his head, looked upon it as a prognostic of the child's future glory. the infant was delivered by them to a nurse named trigo, but the poets say he was suckled by a goat. he studied physic under chiron the centaur, by whose care he made such progress in the medical art, as gained him so high a reputation that he was even reported to have raised the dead. his first cures were wrought upon ascles, king of epidaurus, and aunes, king of daunia, which last was troubled with sore eyes. in short, his success was so great, that pluto, seeing the number of his ghosts daily decrease, complained to jupiter, who killed him with his thunderbolts. such was his proficiency in medical skill, that he was generally esteemed the god of physic. in the city of tetrapolis, which belonged to the ionians, aesculapius had a temple full of rare cures, dedicated to him by those who ascribed their recovery to him; and its walls were covered and hung with memorials of the miracles he had performed. cicero reckons up three of the names of aesculapius. the first the son of apollo, worshipped in arcadia, who invented the probe and bandages for wounds; the second the brother of mercury, killed by lightning; and the third the son of arsippus arsione, who first taught the art of tooth-drawing and purging. others make aesculapius an egyptian, king of memphis, antecedent by a thousand years to the aesculapius of the greeks. the romans numbered him among the dii adcititii, of such as were raised to heaven by their merit, as hercules, castor and pollux. the greeks received their knowledge of aesculapius from the phoenicians and egyptians. his chief temples were at pergamus, smyrna, and trica, a city of ionia, and the isle of coos, or cos; in which all votive tablets were hung up,[ ] shewing the diseases cured by his assistance: but his most famous shrine was at epidaurus, where every five years in the spring, solemn games were instituted to him nine days after the isthmian games at corinth. it was by accident that the romans became acquainted with aesculapius. a plague happened in italy, the oracle was consulted, and the reply was that they should fetch the god esculapius from epidaurus. an embassy was appointed of ten senators, at the head of whom was q. ogulnius. these deputies, on their arrival, visiting the temple of the god, a huge serpent came from under the altar, and crossing the city, went directly to their ship, and lay down in the cabin of ogulnius;[ ] upon which they set sail immediately, and arriving in the tiber, the serpent quitted the ship, and retired to a little island opposite to the city, where a temple was erected to the god, and the pestilence ceased. the animals sacrificed to aesculapius were the goat; some say on account of his having been nursed by this animal; others because this creature is unhealthy, as labouring under a perpetual fever. the dog and the cock were sacrificed to him, on account of their fidelity and vigilance; the raven was also devoted to him for its forecast, and being skilled in divination. authors are not agreed as to his being the inventor of physic, some affirming he perfected that part only which relates to the regimen of the sick. the origin of this fable is as follows:--the public sign or symbol exposed by the egyptians in their assemblies, to warn the people to mark the depth of the inundation of the nile, in order to regulate their ploughing accordingly, was the figure of a man with a dog's head, carrying a pole with serpents twisted round it, to which they gave the name of anubis,[ ] thaaut,[ ] and aesculapius.[ ] in process of time, they made use of this representation for a real king, who by the study of physic, sought the preservation of his subjects. thus the dog and the serpents became the characteristics of aesculapius amongst the romans and greeks, who were entirely strangers to the original meaning of these hieroglyphics. aesculapius was represented as an old man, with a long beard, crowned with a branch of bay tree; in his hands was a staff full of knots, about which a serpent had twisted itself: at his feet stood an owl or a dog--characteristics of the qualities of a good physician, who must be as cunning as a serpent, as vigilant as a dog, as cunning and experienced as an old bashaw, to handle a thing so difficult as physic. at epidaurus his statue was of gold and ivory,[ ] seated on a throne of the same materials, with a long beard, having a knotty stick in one hand, the other entwined with a serpent, and a dog lying at his feet. the phliasians depicted him as beardless, and the romans crowned him with a laurel, to denote his descent from apollo. the knots in his staff signify the difficulties that occur in the study of medicine. he had by his wife epione two sons, machaon and podalirius, both skilled in surgery, and who are mentioned by homer as having been present at the siege of troy, and who were very serviceable to the greeks. he had also two daughters, called hygiaea and jaso. footnotes: [ ] ovid, who relates the story of coronis in his fanciful way, tells us that corvus, or the raven, who discovered her armour, had by apollo, his feathers changed from _black_ to _white_. [ ] from these tablets, or votive inscriptions, hippocrates is said to have collected his aphorisms. [ ] the romans who sent for aesculapius from epidaurus, when their city was troubled with the plague, say, that the serpent that was worshipped there for him followed the ambassadors of its own accord to the ship that transported it to rome, where it was placed in a temple built in the isle called tiberina. in this temple the sick people were wont to lie, and when they found themselves no better, they reviled aesculapius: so impatiently ungrateful and peevish were often the afflicted, that they made no scruple to reproach the very god who administered to their maladies. [ ] from hannobeach, which, in the phoenician language, signifies the _barker_, or _warner_, anubis. [ ] this word signifies the dog. [ ] from _aeish_, man, and _caleph_, dog, comes _aescaleph_, the man-dog, or aesculapius. [ ] this image was the work of thrasymedes, the son of arignotus, a native of paros. chapter vii. inferior deities attending mankind prom their birth to their decease. it would be almost an endless task to enter into a detail of all the inferior deities of the greeks and romans; our object being to refer to such only as preside over the health of the human race, every part and parcel of whom had their presiding genius.--during pregnancy, the tutelar powers were the god pelumnus,[ ] and the goddesses intercedonia,[ ] and deverra.[ ] the import of these words seems to point out the necessity of warmth and cleanliness to ladies in this condition. besides the superior goddesses jemo-lucien, diana hythia, and latona, who all presided at the birth, there were the goddesses egeria,[ ] prosa,[ ] and manageneta,[ ] who with the dii nixii,[ ] had all the care of women in labour. to children, janus performed the office of door-keeper or midwife; and in this quality was assisted by the goddess opis or ops;[ ] cuma rocked the cradle, while carmenta sung their destiny; levana lifted them up from the ground;[ ] and vegetanus took care of them when they cried; rumina[ ] watched them while they suckled; polina furnished them with drink; and edura with food or nourishment; osslago knit their bones; and carna[ ] strengthened their constitutions. nudina[ ] was the goddess of children's purification; stilinus or statanus instructed them to walk, and kept them from falling; fabulina learnt them to prattle; the goddess paventia preserved them from frights;[ ] and camaena taught them to sing. nor was the infant, when grown to riper years, left without his protectors; juventas was the god of youth; agenoria excited men to action; and the goddesses stimula and strenua inspired courage and vivacity; horta[ ] inspired the fame or love of glory; and sentra gave them the sentiments of probity and justice; quies was the goddesses of repose or ease,[ ] and indolena, or laziness, was deified by the name of murcia;[ ] vacua protected the idle; adeona and abeona, secured people in going abroad and returning;[ ] and vibilia, if they wandered, was so kind as to put them in the right way; fessonia refreshed the weary and fatigued; and meditrina healed the sickly;[ ] vitula was the goddess of mirth and frolic;[ ] volupia the goddess who bestowed pleasure;[ ] orbona was addressed, that parents might not love their offspring; pellonia averted mischief and danger; and numeria taught people to cast and keep accounts; angerona cured the anguish or sorrow of the mind;[ ] haeres martia secured heirs the estates they expected; and stata or statua mater, secured the forum or market place from fire; even the thieves had a protectress in laverna;[ ] averruncus prevented sudden misfortunes; and conius was always disposed to give good advice to such as wanted it; volumnus inspired men with a disposition to do well; and honorus raised them to preferment and honours. nor was the marriage state without its peculiar defenders. five deities were esteemed so necessary, that no marriages were solemnized without asking their favours; these were jupiter-perfectus, or the adult, juno, venus, suadela,[ ] and diana. jugatinus tied the nuptial knot; domiducus ushered the bride home; domitius took care to keep her there, and prevent her gadding abroad; maturna preserved the conjugal union entire; virginensis[ ] loosed the bridle zone or girdle; viriplaca was a propitious goddess, ready to reconcile the married couple in case of any accidental difference. matuta was the patroness of matrons, no maid being suffered to enter her temple. the married was always held to be the only honourable state for woman, during the times of pagan antiquity. the goddess vacuna,[ ] is mentioned by horace (lib. . epist. x. .) as having her temple at rome; the rustics celebrated her festival in december, after the harvest was got in (ovid. fast. lib. xi). the ancients assigned the particular parts of the body to particular deities; the head was sacred to jupiter; the breast to neptune; the waist to mars; the forehead to genius; the eye-brows to juno, the eyes to cupid; the ears to memory; the right hand to fides or veritas; the back to pluto; the knees to misericordia or mercy; the legs to mercury; the feet to thetis; and the fingers to minerva.[ ] the goddess who presided over funerals was libitina,[ ] whose temple at rome, the undertakers furnished with all the necessaries for the interment of the poor or rich; all dead bodies were carried through the porto libitina; and the rationes libitinae mentioned by suetonius, very nearly answer to our bills of mortality. footnotes: [ ] either from _pilum_, a pestle; or from _pello_, to drive away; because he procured a safe delivery. [ ] she taught the art of cutting wood with a hatchet to make fires. [ ] the inventress of brooms. [ ] from casting out the birth. [ ] aulus gellius. [ ] aelian. [ ] from _erritor_, to struggle. see ausonius, idyll . [ ] some make her the same with rhea or vesta. [ ] among the romans the midwife always laid the child on the ground, and the father or somebody appointed, lifted it up; hence the expression of _tollere liberos_, to educate children. [ ] this goddess had a temple at rome, and her offerings were milk. [ ] on the kalends of june, sacrifices were offered to carna, of bacon and bean flour cakes; whence they were called fabariae. [ ] boys were named always on the ninth day after the birth, and girls on the eighth. [ ] from pavorema vertendo. [ ] she had a temple at home which always stood open. [ ] she had a temple without the walls. [ ] murcia had her temple on mount aventine. [ ] from _abeo_, to go away; and _adeo_, to come. [ ] the festival of this goddess was in september, when the romans drank new wine mixed with old, by way of physic. [ ] from _vitulo_, to leap or advance. [ ] from _voluptas_, pleasure. [ ] in a great murrain which destroyed their cattle, the romans invoked this goddess, and she removed the plague. [ ] the image was a head without a body. horace mentions her (lib. . epist. xvi. ). she had a temple without the walls, which gave the name to the porta lavernalis. [ ] the goddess of eloquence, or persuasion, who had always a great hand in the success of courtship. [ ] she was also called cinxia juno. [ ] she was an old sabine deity. some make her the same with ceres; but varro imagines her to be the goddess of victory. [ ] from this distribution arose, perhaps, the scheme of our modern astrologers, who assign the different parts of the body to the different constellations, or signs of zodiac: as the head to aries, the neck to taurus, the shoulders to gemini, the heart to cancer, the breast to leo, and so on. the pretended issues of astrology have been always inseparable from stellar influence, and the zodiac has ever been the fruitful source of its solemn delusions. [ ] some confound this goddess with proserpine, others with venus. chapter viii. judicial astrology--its chemical application to the prolongation of life and health--alchymical delusions. the study of astrology, so flattering to human curiosity got into favour with mankind at a very early period,--especially with the weak and ignorant. the first account, of it we meet with is in chaldea; and at rome it was known by the name of the "babylonish calculation," against which horace very wisely cautioned his readers.[ ] it was doubtless the first method of divination, and probably prepared the mind of man for all the various methods since employed of searching into futurity; a brief view therefore of the rise of this pretended science cannot he improper in this place, especially as the history of these absurdities is the best method of confuting them. others have ascribed the invention of this deception to the arabs;--be this as it may, judicial astrology[ ] has been too much used by the priests and physicians of all nations to encrease their own power and emolument. they maintain that the heavens are one great book, in which god has written the history of the world; and in which every man may read his own fortune and the transactions of his time. in this department of astrology (judicial) we meet with all the idle conceits about the horary reign of planets, the _doctrine of horoscopes, the distribution of the houses, the calculation of nativities, fortunes, lucky and unlucky_ hours, and other ominous fatalities. they assert that it had its rise from the same hands as astronomy itself;--that while the ancient assyrians, whose serene unclouded sky favoured their celestial, observations, were intent on tracing the paths and periods of the heavenly bodies, they discovered a constant settled relation or analogy between them and things below; hence they were led to conclude these to be the fates or destinies (parcae) so much talked of, which preside at our birth, and dispose of our future state. the egyptians, who derived their astrological superstitions from the chaldeans, becoming ignorant of the astronomical hieroglyphics, by degrees looked upon the names of the signs as expressing certain powers with which they were invested, and as indications of their several offices. the sun, on account of its splendour and enlivening influence, was imagined to be the great mover of nature; the moon held the second rank of powers, and each sign and constellation a certain share in the government of the world. the ram, (aries [symbol: aries]) had a strong influence over the young of the flocks and herds; the balance, (libra [symbol: libra]) could inspire nothing but inclinations to good order and justice; and the scorpion, (scorpio [symbol: scorpio]) to excite only evil dispositions. in short, each sign produced the good or evil intimated by its name. thus, if a child happened to be born at the instant when the first star of the ram rose above the horizon, (when, in order to give this nonsense the air of a science, the star was supposed to have its greatest influence,) he would be rich in cattle; and he who should enter the world under the crab, would meet with nothing but disappointments, and all his affairs go backwards and downwards. the people were to be happy whose king entered the world under the sign libra; but completely wretched if he should light under the horrid sign scorpion. persons born under capricorn ([symbol: capricorn]) especially if the sun at the same time ascended the horizon, were sure to meet with success, and rise upwards like the wild goat and the sun which then ascends for six months together. the lion, (leo [symbol: leo]) was to produce heroes; and the virgin (virgo [symbol: virgo]) with her ear of corn to inspire chastity, and to unite virtue with abundance. could anything he more extravagant and ridiculous! the case was exactly the same with respect to the planets, whose influence is only founded on the wild supposition of their being the habitations of the pretended deities, whose names they bear, and the fabulous characters the poets have given them. thus, to saturn, [symbol: saturn], they gave languid and even destructive influences, for no other reason but because they had been pleased to make this planet the residence of saturn, who was painted with grey hairs and a scythe. to jupiter [symbol: jupiter] they gave the power of bestowing crowns and distributing long life, wealth, and grandeur, merely because it bears the name of the father of life. mars [symbol: mars] was supposed to inspire a strong inclination for war, because it was believed to be the residence of the god of war. venus [symbol: venus] had the power of rendering men voluptuous and fond of pleasure, because they had been pleased to give it the name of one who by some was thought to be the mother of pleasure. mercury [symbol: mercury], though almost always invisible, would never have been thought to superintend the property of states, and the affairs of wit and commerce, had not men, without the least reason, given it the name of one who was supposed to be the inventor of civil polity. according to astrologers, the power of the ascending planet is greatly increased by that of an ascending sign; then the benign influences are all united, and fall together on the head of all the happy infants who at that moment enter the world; yet can anything be more contrary to experience, which shews us, that the characters and events produced by persons born under the same aspect of the stars, are so far from being alike, that they are directly opposite. "what completes the ridicule," says the abbé la pluche, to whom we are obliged for these judicious observations, "is, that what astronomers call the first degree of the ram, the balance, or of sagitarius, is no longer the first sign, which gives fruitfulness to the flocks, inspires men with a love of justice, or forms the hero. it has been found that all the celestial signs have, by degrees, receded from the vernal equinox, and drawn back to the east: notwithstanding this, the point of the zodiac that cuts the equator is still called the first degree of the ram, though the first star of the ram be thirty degrees beyond it, and all the other signs in the same proportion. when, therefore, any one is said to be born under the first degree of the ram, it was in reality one of the degrees of pisces that then came above the horizon: and when another is said to be born with a royal soul and heroic disposition, because at his birth the planet jupiter ascended the horizon, in conjunction with the first star of sagitary, jupiter was indeed at that time in conjunction with a star thirty degrees eastward of sagitary, and in good truth it was the pernicious scorpion that presided at the birth of this happy, this incomparable child." and so it would, as shakspeare says, "if my mother's cat had kittened. this," says our sagacious bard, "is the excellent foppery of the world, that when we are sick in fortune, (after the surfeit of our own behaviour) we make guilt of our disasters, the sun, the moon, and the stars; as if we were villains by necessity; fools, by heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and treachers, (traitors) by spherical predominance; drunkards, liars, and adulterers, by an enforced obedience of planetary influence; and all that we are evil in by a divine thrusting on; an admirable evasion of a whoremaster to lay his goatish tricks to the charge of a star! my father compounded with my mother under the dragon's tail; and my nativity was under _ursa major_; so that it follows i am rough and treacherous.--tut! i should have been that i am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled at my bastardizing." thus it is evident, that astrology is built upon no principles, that it is founded on fables, and on influences void of reality. yet absurd as it is, and even was, it obtained credit; and the more it spread, the greater injury was done to the cause of virtue. instead of the exercise of prudence and wise precautions, it substituted superstitious forms and childish practices; it enervated the courage of the brave by apprehensions grounded on puns, and encouraged the wicked, by making them lay to the charge of a planet those evils which only proceeded from their own depravity. but not content with such absurdities, which destroyed the very idea of liberty, they asserted that these stars, which had not the least connection with mankind, governed all the parts of the human body, and ridiculously affirmed that the ram presided over the head, the bull over the gullet, the twins over the breast, the scorpion over the entrails, the fishes over the feet, etc. the juggles of astrology have been admirably ridiculed by butler in the following lines: some by the nose with fumes trepan 'em, as dunstan did the devil's grannam; others, with characters and words, catch 'em, as men in nets do birds; and some with symbols, signs, and tricks, engrav'd in planetary nicks, with their own influence will fetch 'em down from their orbs, arrest and catch 'em; make 'em depose and answer to all questions, ere they let them go. bombastus kept a devil's bird shut in the pummel of his sword, and taught him all the cunning pranks of past and future mountebanks. _hudibras_, part ii. canto . by means of the zodiac, astrologers pretended to account for the various disorders of the body, which were supposed to be in a good or had disposition, according to the different aspects[ ] of these signs. to mention only one instance, they pretended that great caution ought to be used in taking medicine under taurus, or the bull; because, as this animal chews his cud, the person would not be able to keep it in his stomach. each hour of the day had also its presiding star. the number seven, as being that of the planets, became of mighty consequence. the seven days in the week,--a period of time handed down by tradition, happened to correspond with the number of the planets: and therefore they gave the name of a planet to each day; and from thence some days in the week were considered more fortunate or unlucky than the rest; and hence seven times seven, called the climacterical period of hours, days, or years, were thought extremely dangerous, and to have a surprising effect on private persons, the fortunes of princes, and the government of states. thus the mind of man became distressed by imaginary evils, and the approach of these moments, in themselves as harmless as the rest of their lives, has by the strength of the imagination, brought on the most fatal effects. nay, the influence of the planets were extended to the bowels of the earth, where they were supposed to produce metals. from hence it appears that when superstition and folly are once on foot, there is no setting hounds to their progress. gold, as a matter of course, must be the production of the sun, and the conformity in point of colour, brightness, and value, was a sensible proof of it. by the same mode of reasoning, the moon produced all the silver, to which it was related by colour; mars, all the iron, which ought to be the favourite metal of the god of war. venus presided over copper, which she might be well supposed to produce, since it was found in abundance in the isle of cyprus, the supposed favourite residence of this goddess. in the same strain, the other planets presided over the other metals. the languid saturn domineered over the lead mines, and mercury, on account of his activity, had the superintendency of quicksilver; while it was the province of jupiter to preside over tin, as this was the only metal left him, it would appear, a kind of "hobson's choice." this will explain the manner in which the metals obtained the names of the planets; and from this opinion, that each planet engendered its own peculiar metal, they at length formed an idea that, as one planet was more powerful than another, the metal produced by the weakest was converted into another by the predominating influence of a stronger orb. lead, though really a metal, and as perfect in its kind as any of the rest, was considered only half a metal, which, in consequence of the languid influences of old saturn, was left imperfect; and, therefore, under the auspices of jupiter, it was converted into tin; under that of venus, into copper: and at last into gold, under some particular aspects of the sun. from hence, at length, arose the extravagant opinion of the alchymists, who, with amazing sagacity, endeavoured to find out means for hastening these changes or transmutations, which, as they conceived, the planets performed too slowly. the world, however, became at length convinced that the art of the alchymist was as ineffectual as the influences of the planets, which, in a long succession of ages, had never been known to change a mine of lead to that of tin or any other metal.[ ] the first author we are acquainted with who talks of making gold by the transmutation of one metal, by means of an alcahest[ ] into another, is zozimus the pomopolite, who lived about the commencement of the fifth century, and who has a treatise express upon it, called, "the divine art of making gold and silver," in manuscript, and is, as formerly, in the library of the king of france. as regards the universal medicine, said to depend on alchemical research, we discover no earlier or plainer traces than in this author, and in aeneas gazeus, another greek writer, towards the close of the same century;[ ] nor among the physicians and materialists, from moses to geber the arab,[ ] who is supposed to have lived in the seventh century. in that author's work, entitled the "philosopher's stone," mention is made of medicine that cures all leprous diseases. this passage, some authors suppose, to have given the first hint of the matter, though geber himself, perhaps, meant no such thing; for, by attending to the arabic style and diction of this author, which abounds in allegory, it is highly probable that by man he means gold, and by leprous, or other diseases, the other metals, which, with relation to gold, are all impure. the origin and antiquity of alchymy have been much controverted. if any credit may be placed on legend and tradition, it must be as old as the flood--nay, adam himself is represented to have been an alchymist. a great part, not only of the heathen mythology, but of the jewish scriptures, are supposed to refer to it. thus, suidas[ ] will have the fable of the philosopher's stone to be alluded to in the fable of the argonauts; and others find it in the book of moses, as well as in other remote places. but, if the era of the art be examined by the test of history, it will lose much of its fancied antiquity. the manner in which suidas accounts for the total silence of alchymy among the old writers is, that dioclesian procured all the books of the ancient egyptians to be burnt; and that it was in these the great mysteries of chemistry were contained.[ ] kercher asserts, that the theory of the philosopher's stone is delivered at large in the table of hermes, and the ancient egyptians were not ignorant of the art, but declined to prosecute it. footnotes: [ ] ------ nec babylonios tentaris numeros.--lib, . ad xi. that is, consult not the tables of planetary calculations used by astrologers of babylonish origin. [ ] this conjectural science is divided into natural and judicial. the first is confined to the study of exploring natural effects, as change of weather, winds and storms--hurricanes, thunder, floods, earthquakes, and the like. in this sense it is admitted to be a part of natural philosophy. it was under this view that mr. good, mr. boyle, and dr. mead pleaded for its use. the first endeavours to account for the diversity of seasons from the situations, habitudes, and motions of the planets; and to explain an infinity of phenomena by the contemplation of the stars. the honourable mr. boyle admitted, that all physical bodies are influenced by the heavenly bodies; and the doctor's opinion, in his treatise concerning the power of the sun and moon, etc. is in favour of the doctrine. but these predictions and influence are ridiculed, and entirely exploded by the most esteemed modern philosophers, of which the reader may have a learned specimen in rohault's tract. physic. pt. ii. c . [ ] by aspect is to be understood an angle formed by the rays of two planets meeting on the earth, able to execute some natural power or influence. [ ] those who wish to read a curious monument of the follies of the alchymists, may consult the diary of elias ashmole, who is rather the historian of this vain science, than an adept. it may amuse literary leisure to turn over his quarto volume, in which he has collected the works of several english alchymists, to which he has subjoined his commentary. it affords curious specimens of rosicrucian mysteries; and he relates stories, which vie for the miraculous, with the wildest fancies of arabian invention. [ ] alcahest, in chemistry, (an obsolete term,) means a most pure and universal menstruum or dissolvent, with which some chemists have pretended to resolve all bodies into their first elements, and perform other extraordinary and unaccountable operations. [ ] in this writer we find the following passage: "such as are skilled in the ways of nature, can take; silver and tin, and changing their nature, can turn them into gold." he also tells us that he was "wont to call himself a _gold-melter_ and a _chemist_." [ ] the principal authors on alchymy are geber, the arab, friar bacon, sully, john and isaac hallendus, basil valentine, paracelsus, van zuchter, and sendirogius. [ ] corringius calls this statement in question, and asks how suidas, who lived but five hundred yours between them, should know what happened eight hundred years before him? to which borrichius the dane, answers, that he had learnt it of eudemus, helladius, zozimus, pamphilius, and others, as suidas himself relates. [ ] it does not appear that the egyptians transmuted gold; they had ways of separating it from all kinds of bodies, from the very mud of the nile, and stones of all kinds: but, adds kercher, these secrets were never written down, or made public, but confined to the royal family, and handed down traditionally from father to son. chapter ix. alchymical and astrological chimera. having so far explained the fragile basis on which human knowledge may be said to have depended, during the obscurity and barbarity of the middle ages, when the progress of true knowledge was obstructed by the most absurd fancies, and puerile conceits: when conjectures, caprices, and dreams supplied the place of the most useful sciences, and of the most important truths, the subsequent illustrative reflections may serve as a guide to direct the attention of the reader to other delusions, which arose out of the general chaos. chemistry, a science so essentially requisite to explain the phenomena of known and unknown substances, was studied chiefly by jugglers and fanatics;--their systems, replete with metaphysical nonsense, and composed of the most crude and heterogeneous materials, served rather to nourish superstition than to establish facts, and illustrate useful truths. universal remedies, in various forms, met with strenuous advocates and deluded consumers. the path of accurate observation and experiment was forsaken: instead of penetrating into the mysterious recesses of nature, they bewildered themselves in the labyrinth of fanciful speculation; they overstepped the bounds of good sense, modesty, and truth; and the blind led the blind. the prolongation of life too was no longer sought for in a manner agreeable to the dictates of nature; even this interesting branch of human pursuits was rendered subservient to chemistry, or rather to the confused system of alchymy. original matter was considered as the elementary cause of all beings, by which they expected literally to work miracles, to transmute the base into noble metals, to metamorphose man in his animal state by chemical processes, to render him more durable, and to secure him against early decline and dissolution. millions of vessels, retorts, and phials, were either exposed to the action of the most violent artificial heat, or to the natural warmth of the sun; or else they were buried in some dunghill or other fetid mass, for the purpose of attracting this _original matter_, or obtaining it from putrescible substances. as the metal called gold always bore the highest value, these crude philosophers concluded, from a ridiculous analogy, that its value with respect to the preservation of health and the cure of diseases, must likewise surpass that of all other remedies. the nugatory art of dissolving it, so as to render it potable, and to prevent it from again being converted into metal, employed a multitude of busy idiots, not only in concealed corners, but in the splendid laboratories of the great. sovereigns, magistrates, counsellors, and impostors, struck with the common frenzy, entered into friendship and alliance, formed private fraternities, and sometimes proceeded to such a pitch of extravagance, as to involve themselves and their posterity in ruinous debts. the real object of many was, doubtless, to gratify their avarice and desire of aggrandisement: although this sinister motive was concealed under the specious pretext of searching for a remedy that should serve as a tincture of life, both for the healthy and diseased, yet some among these whimsical mortals were actuated by more honourable motives, zealous only for the interest of truth, and the well-being of their fellow creatures. the common people, in some countries, particularly italy, germany, and france often denied themselves the common necessaries of life, to save as much as would purchase a few drops of the tincture of gold, which was offered for sale by some superstitious or fraudulent chemist: and so thoroughly persuaded were they of the efficacy of this remedy, that it afforded them in every instance the most confident and only hope of recovery. these beneficial effects were positively promised, but were looked for in vain. all subduing death would not submit to be bribed with gold, and disease refused to hold any intercourse with that powerful deity, who presides over the industry and commerce of all nations. as, however, these diversified and almost numberless experiments were frequently productive of useful inventions in arts and manufactures; and, as many chemical remedies of real value were thereby accidentally discovered, great and almost general attention to those bold projectors was constantly kept alive and excited. indeed, we are indebted to their curious observations, or rather perhaps to chance, for several valuable medicines, the excellence of which cannot be disputed, but which, nevertheless, require more precaution in their use and application, and more perspicuity and diligence in investigating their nature and properties than the original preparers of such articles were able or willing to afford. all their endeavours to prolong life, by artificial means, could not be attended with beneficial effects; and the application of the remedies thus contrived, must necessarily, in many cases, have proved detrimental to the health of the patient. in proof of this assertion, it will be sufficient to give a slight sketch of the different views and opinions of the gold-makers, rosicrucians, manufacturers of astralian salts, drops of life, and tinctures of gold, hunters after the philosopher's stone, and other equally absurd chimera. some of these extravagant enthusiasts fancied that life resembled a flame, from which the body derived warmth, spirit, and animation. they endeavoured to cherish and increase the flame, and supplied the body with materials to feed it, as we pour oil into a burning lamp. others imagined they had discovered something invisible and incorporeal in the air, that important medium which supports the life of man. they pretended to catch, refine, reduce, and materialize this indefinable something, so that it might be swallowed in the form of powders, and drops; that, by its penetrating powers, it might insinuate itself into the whole animal frame, invigorate, and consequently qualify it for a longer duration. others again were foolish enough to indulge a notion that they could divest themselves of the properties of matter during this life; that in this manner they might be defended against the gradual approaches of dissolution, to which every animal body is subject: and that thus fortified, without quitting their terrestrial tabernacle, they could associate at pleasure with the inhabitants of the spiritual world. the sacred volume itself was interpreted and commented upon by alchymists, with a view to render it subservient to their intended designs. indisputable historical facts, recorded in this invaluable book, were treated by them as hieroglyphical symbols of chemical processes: and the fundamental truths of the christian religion were applied, in a wanton and blasphemous manner, to the purposes of making gold, and distilling the elixir of life. the world of spirits was also invaded, and summoned, as it were, to contribute to the prolongation of human life. spirits were supposed to have the dominion of air, fire, earth, and water; they were divided into distinct classes, and particular services ascribed to each. the malevolent spirits were opposed and counteracted by various means of prevention: the good and tutelary were obliged to submit to n sort of gentle, involuntary servitude. from invisible beings were expected and demanded visible means of assistance--riches, health, friends, and long life. thus the poor spirits were profanely maltreated, nay, sometimes severely punished, and even miserably flogged in effigy, when they betrayed symptoms of disaffection, or want of implicit fealty. as men had thus, in their weakness and folly, forsaken the bounds of this terrestrial sphere, it will easily be believed, that, with the help of an exuberant imagination, they would make a transition to the higher regions--to the celestial bodies and the stars to which, indeed, they ascribed no less a power than that of deciding the destinies of men, and which, consequently, must have had a considerable share in shortening or prolonging the duration of human life--every nation or kingdom was subjected to the dominion of its particular planet the time of whose government was determined; and a number of ascendant powers were fictitiously contrived, with a view to reduce, under its influence, every thing which was produced and born under its administration. the professors of astrology appeared as the confidents of these invisible rulers, and the interpreters of their will; they were well versed in the art of giving a respectable appearance to this usurped dignity. provided they could but ascertain the hour and minute of a person's birth, they confidently took upon themselves to predict his mental capacities, future vicissitudes of life, and the diseases he would be visited with, together with the circumstances, the day and hour of his death.[ ] not only the common people, but persons of the highest rank and stations, nay, even men the most distinguished for their rank and abilities, did homage to those "gods of their idolatry," and lived in continual dread of their occult powers. with anxious countenance and attentive ears, they listened to the cantrip effusions of these pretended oracles, which prognosticated the bright or gloomy days of futurity. even physicians were solicitous to qualify themselves for appointments no less lucrative than respectable:--they forgot, over the dazzling hoards of mammon, that they are peculiarly and professedly the pupils of nature.--the curious student in the universities found everywhere public lecturers, who undertook to instruct him in the profound arts of divination, chiromancy, and the _cabala_. among other instances, the following anecdote is related of the noted thurneisen, who, in the seventeenth century, was invested, at berlin, with the respectable offices of printer to the court, bookseller, almanack-maker, astrologer, chemist, and first physician. messengers daily arrived from the most respectable houses in germany, poland, hungary, denmark, and even from england, for the purpose of consulting him respecting the future fortunes[ ] of their new-born infants, acquainting him with the hour of the nativity, and soliciting his advice and directions as to their management. many volumes of this singular correspondence are still preserved in the royal library at berlin. the business of this fortunate adept increased so rapidly, that he found it necessary to employ a number of subaltern assistants, who, together with their master, realized considerable fortunes. he died in high reputation and favour with his superstitious contemporaries. the famous melancthon was a believer in judicial astrology, and an interpreter of dreams. richelieu and mazarin were so superstitious as to employ and pension morin, another pretender to astrology, who cast the nativities of these two able politicians. nor was tacitus himself, who generally appears superior to superstition, untainted with this folly, as may be seen from his twenty-second chapter of the sixth book of his annals. in the time of the civil wars, astrology was in high repute. the royalists and the rebels had their astrologers as well as their soldiers; and the predictions of the former had a great influence over the latter. when charles the first was imprisoned, lilly, the famous astrologer, was consulted for the hour that should favour his escape; and in burnet's history of his own times, there is a story which strongly proves how much charles ii was bigotted to judicial astrology, a man, though a king, whose mind was by no means unenlightened. the most respectable characters of the age, sir william dugdale, elias ashmole,[ ] dr. grew, and others, were members of the astrological club. congreve's character of foresight, in love for love, was then no uncommon person, though the humour, now, is scarcely intelligible. dryden cast the nativities of his sons; and what is remarkable, his prediction relating to his son charles, was accomplished. the incident being of so late a date, one might hope that it would have been cleared up; but, if it be a fact, it must be allowed that it forms a rational exultation for its irrational adepts. astrologers were frequently, as may easily be understood, put to their wit's end when their predictions did not come to pass. great winds were foretold, by one of the craft, about the year . no unusual storms, however, happened. bodin, to save the reputation of the art, applied it as a figure to some revolutions in the state, of which there were instances enough at that time. at the commencement of the th century, the _illuminati_, a sect of astrologers, had excited considerable sensation on the continent. blending philosophy with enthusiasm, and uniting to a knowledge of every chemical process a profound acquaintance with astronomy, their influence over the superstitious feelings of the people was prodigious; and in many instances the infatuation was attended with fatal consequences. we shall relate the following, as nearer home than many now before us. the horoscope, a tale of the stars. on the summit of st. vincent's rocks, in the neighbourhood of clifton, looking on the avon, as it rolls its lazy courses towards the bristol channel, stands an edifice, known by the name of "cooke's folly." it consists of a single round tower, and appears at a distance rather as the remnant of some extensive building, than a complete and perfect edifice, as it now exists. it was built more than two centuries ago, by a man named maurice cooke; not, indeed, as a strong hold from the arms of a mortal enemy, but as a refuge from the evils of destiny. he was the proprietor of extensive estates in the neighbourhood; and while his lady was pregnant with her first child, as she was one evening walking in their domains, she encountered a strange looking gipsey, who, pestering her for alms, received but a small sum. the man turned over the coin in his hand, and implored a larger gift. "that," said the lady, "will buy you food for the present." "lady," said the gipsey, "it is not food for the wretched body that i require; the herbs of the field, and the waters of the ditch, are good enough for that. i asked your alms for higher purposes. do not distrust me, if my bearing be prouder than my garments; do not doubt the strength of my sunken eye, when i tell you that i can read the skies as they relate to the fate of men. not more familiar is his hornbook to the scholar, than are the heavens to my knowledge." "what, thou art an astrologer?"--"aye, lady! my fathers were so before me, even in the times when our people had a home amidst the pyramids of the mighty--in the times when you are told the mightier prophets of the israelites put the soothsayers of egypt to confusion; idle tales! but if true, all reckless now. judah's scattered sons are now desolate as ourselves; but they bend and bow to the laws and ways of other land--we remain in the stern stedfastness of our own." "if then," returned the lady, "i give thee more money, how will it be applied?" "that is not a courteous question, but i will answer it. the most cunning craftsman cannot work without his tools, and some of mine are broken, which i seek to repair: another crown will be enough." the lady put the required sum into his hand, and at the same time intimated a desire to have a specimen of his art. "oh! to what purpose should that be? why, why seek to know the course of futurity? destiny runs on in a sweeping and resistless tide. enquire not what rocks await your bark: the knowledge cannot avail you, for caution is useless against stern necessity."--"truly, you are not likely to get rich by your trade, if you thus deter customers."--"it is not for wealth i labour: i am alone on the earth, and have none to love. i will not mix with the world lest i should learn to hate. this present is nothing to me. it is in communion with the spirits who have lived in the times that are past, and with the stars--those historians of the times to come--that i feel aught of joy. fools sometimes demand the exertions of my powers, and sometimes i gratify their childish curiosity." --"notwithstanding i lie under the imputation of folly, i will beg that you predict unto me the fate of the child which i shall bear."--"well, you have obliged me, and i will comply. note the precious moment at which it enters the world, and soon after you shall see me again." within a week the birth of an heir awoke the clamorous joy of the vassals, and summoned the strange gipsey to ascertain the necessary points. these learned, he returned home; and the next day presented sir maurice with a scroll, containing the following lines: "twenty times shall avon's tide in chains of glistening ice be tied-- twenty times the woods of leigh shall wave their brunches merril in spring burst forth in mantle gay, and dance in summer's scorching ray: twenty times shall autumn's frown, wither all their green to brown-- and still the child of yesterday shall laugh the happy hour away. that period past, another sun shall not his annual journey run, before a secret silent foe, shall strike that boy a deadly blow. such, and sure his fate shall be: seek not to change his destiny." the knight read it; and in that age, when astrology was considered a science as unerring as holy prophecies, it would have been little less than infidelity to have doubted the truth of the prediction. sir maurice, however, was wise enough to withhold the paper from his lady; and in answer to her inquiries, continually asserted that the gipsey was an impostor, and that the object of his assuming the character was merely to increase her alms. the fated child grew in health and beauty; and as we are the most usually the more strongly attached to pleasures in proportion to the brevity of continuance, so did the melancholy fate of his son more firmly fix him in the heart of sir maurice. often did the wondering lady observe the countenance of her husband with surprise, as watching the endearing sportiveness of the boy, his countenance, at first brightened by the smile of paternal love, gradually darkened to deepest grief, till unable to suppress his tears, he would cover the child with caresses, and rush from the room. to all inquiries, sir maurice was silent, or returned evasive answers. we shall pass over the infancy of young walter, and resume the narrative at the period in which he entered into his twentieth year. his mother was now dead, and had left two other children, both girls, who, however, shared little of their father's love, which was almost exclusively fixed on walter, and appeared to encrease in strength as the fatal time grew near. it is not to be supposed that he took no precaution against the predicted event. sometimes hope suggested that a mistake might have been made in the horoscope, or that the astrologer might have overlooked some sign which made the circumstance conditional; and in unison with the latter idea he determined to erect a strong building, where, during the year in which his doom was to be consumated, walter might remain in solitude. he accordingly gave directions for raising a single tower, peculiarly formed to prevent ingress, except by permission of its inhabitants. the purpose of this strange building, however, he kept secret; and his neighbours, after numerous vain conjectures, gave it the name of "cooke's folly." walter, himself, was kept entirely ignorant of the subject, and all his inquiries were answered with tears. at length the tower was completed, and furnished with all things necessary for comfort and convenience; and on the eve of walter's completing his twentieth year, sir maurice shewed him the gipsey's scroll, and begged him to make use of the retreat prepared for him till the year expired. walter at first treated the matter lightly, laughed at the prophecy, and declared he would not lose a year's liberty if all the astrologers in the world were to croak their ridiculous prophecies against him. seeing, however, his father so earnestly bent on the matter, his resolution began to give way, and at length he consented to the arrangement. at six the following morning, therefore, walter entered the tower, which he fastened within as strongly as iron burs would admit, and which was secured outside in a manner equally firm. he took possession of his voluntary prison with melancholy feelings, rather occasioned by the loss of present pleasure, than the fear of future pain. he sighed as he looked upon the wide domain before him, and thought how sad would it be to hear the joyous horn summoning his companions to the chase, and find himself prevented from attending it--to hear the winter wind howling round his tower, and rushing between the rocks beneath him, and miss the cheerful song and merry jest, which were wont to make even the blast a pleasant sound. certainly his time passed as pleasantly as circumstances permitted. he drew up in a basket, at his meal hours, every luxury which the season produced. his father and sisters daily conversed with him from below, for a considerable time; and the morris-dancers often raised his laughter by their grotesque movements. weeks and months thus passed, and walter still was well and cheerful. his own and his sisters' hopes grew more lively, but the anxiety of sir maurice increased. the day drew near which was to restore his son to his arms in confident security, or to fulfil the prediction which left him without an heir to his name and honours. on the preceding afternoon walter continually endeavoured to cheer his parent, by speaking of what he would do on the morrow; desired his sisters to send round to all their friends, that he might stretch his limbs once more in the merry dance; and continued to talk of the future with much confidence, that even sir maurice caught a spark of hope from the fiery spirits of the youth. as the night drew on, and his sisters were about to leave him, promising to wake him at six by a song, in answer to their usual inquiry if he wanted anything more that night, "nothing," said he, "and yet the night feels chilly, and i have little fuel left--send me one more faggot." this was sent him, and as he drew it up, "this," said he, "is the last time i shall have to dip for my wants, like an old woman for water: thank god! for it is wearisome work to the arm." sir maurice still lingered under the window in conversation with his son, who at length complained of being cold and drowsy. "mark," said he, as he closed the window, "mark father, mars, the star of my fate, looks smilingly to-night, all will be well." sir maurice looked up--a dark cloud spot suddenly crossed the planet, and he shuddered at the omen. the anxious father could not leave the spot. sleep he knew it was vain to court, and he therefore determined to remain where he was. the reflexions that occupied his mind continually varied: at one time he painted to himself the proud career of his high spirited boy, known and admired among the mighty of his time; a moment after he saw the prediction verified, and the child of his love lying in the tomb. who can conceive his feelings as hour dragged after hour, while he walked to and fro, watching the blaze of the fire in the tower, as it brightened and sunk again--now pacing the court with hasty steps, and now praying fervently for the preservation of his son? the hour came. the cathedral bell struck heavy on the father's heart, which was not to be lightened by the cheerful voices of his daughters, who came running full of hope to the foot of the tower. they looked up, but walter was not there;--they called his name, he answered not. "nay," said the youngest, "this is only a jest; he thinks to frighten us, but i know he is safe." a servant had brought a ladder, which he ascended, and he looked in at the window. sir maurice stood immoveable and silent.--he looked up, and the man answered the anxious expression of his eyes. "he is asleep," said he. "he is dead!" murmured the father. the servant broke a pane of glass in the window, and opening the casement, entered the room. the father, changing his gloomy stedfastness for frenzied anxiety, rushed up the ladder. the servant had thrown aside the curtains and the clothes, and displayed to the eyes of sir maurice, his son lying dead, a serpent twined round his arm, and his throat covered with blood. the reptile had crept up the faggot last sent him, and fulfilled the _prophecy_. to this happy effort of the imagination in favour of prying into futurity, may be added, with the same intention. the fated parricide; an oriental tale of the stars. ibrahim was universally celebrated for his riches and magnificence. his armies were formidable, his victories splendid, and his treasury inexhaustible. he enjoyed, moreover, what was ten thousand times more solid and more valuable than riches--the love and veneration of his subjects; and he had a beautiful young wife, in whose endearing tenderness alone he could find happiness--if happiness could be found on earth. all these advantages entitled ibrahim to the appellation of the solomon of his age; and yet ibrahim was not happy. a son was wanting to crown his felicity. in vain did a heart formed for all the charities of the wedded state, endeavour to supply the refusal of nature, by the adoption of a son; in vain did gratitude endeavour to deceive his heart, by caresses which any other would have thought to be the natural effusions of filial sensibility, of filial piety and affection; that heart incessantly perceived a solitude within itself. even the consolatory visions of hope began to grow less frequent, when heaven at last heard his prayers, alas! in the very instant that fortune gratifies our fondest wishes, she often betrays us; and her smiles are a thousand times more fatal than her frowns. the birth of the prince was celebrated throughout the empire by the customary public demonstrations of joy. the felicity of ibrahim was complete. he was perpetually revolving in his mind the sentiments and hopes which the nation would form of the royal infant. scarce was he born, when paternal solicitude embraced, as it were, his whole life. impatient to know his destiny, that solicitude plunged into futurity, determined, if possible, to wrest from time, the secrets of which he was the hoary-headed guardian. in ibrahim's dominions were some sages particularly honoured with the confidence of heaven. he commanded them to consult the stars, and to report their answer. "tremble," said the sages; "thou unfortunate father, tremble! never before have the skies presented such inauspicious omens. let him fly; let this son, too dear to you, fly; let him avoid, if possible, the meeting with any savage beasts. his seventh year is the fatal one; and if he should happen then, to escape the misfortune that hangs over him, ah! do not wish him to live. his father, his very father, will not be able to escape from the hand of a parricide." this answer threw the sultan into the deepest consternation. he did not sink, however, into absolute despondency; his courage soon revived. he determined to take all the precautions which paternal tenderness could suggest, to defeat the prediction of the astrologers. he, therefore, caused a kind of subterranean palace to be made on the summit of a lofty mountain. the labour and expense of the excavation was prodigious. extensive walks were formed, with a variety of apartments, in which every thing was provided that could contribute to the conveniences, and even the luxuries of life. in this magnificent cavern, ibrahim, as it were, inhumed his son, together with his governess, of whose care, and fidelity he had no doubt. provisions were constantly carried thither at stated periods. the king forgot not a single day to visit the mountain that contained his beloved treasure, and to be satisfied of his safety with his own eyes. with what delight did he behold the growing beauties of his son! with what pleasure and rapture did he listen to his sprightly saillies of wit, his smart repartees, and those pretty _nothings_ which a father, in particular, is fond to recollect and to repeat; at which the most rigid gravity may smile, and which are worth all the understanding of riper years. he was perpetually counting the hours and minutes that he had to spend with his son; and he incessantly reproached himself, for not seeing him more frequently. shah abbas, for such was his name, at length reached his seventh year, that fatal year, which ibrahim would fain have delayed, even at the expense of his crown. he would never leave his son a minute. but, alas! is it possible to escape our destiny? summoned one day to his palace by affairs of the most pressing exigency, he left the mountain with extreme reluctance. never had shah abbas appeared wore amiable in his father's eyes, never had ibrahim appeared more affectionate to his son! each was tormented by an uneasy sensation, an unaccountable presentiment that they were to meet there no more! some robbers were hunting wild beasts: the ardour of the pursuit brought them to this mountain. a lion that fled from them, perceived the subterraneous passage, and took refuge in it. the robbers, who durst not follow him, waited, however, for the sequel of this adventure. on a sudden, they heard a violent scream, and presently all was silent. this silence suggested to them, that the cavern now contained, not a living creature, but the lion. they threw down a quantity of stones, which soon put an end to the existence of the formidable animal. they then descended into the cavern, securing themselves from all further danger from the lion by cutting off his head. wandering through every part of this subterraneous palace, they were astonished at the prodigious riches which they beheld. they perceived a slaughtered woman: this was the prince's governess. by her side lay a child covered with blood, who shewed, however, some signs of life. they examined his wounds: they found not one of them dangerous. the captain of these banditti, after stripping the cavern of its valuable contents, dressed the young prince's wounds himself, and effected a cure. the growing qualities of shah abbas endeared him to the chief, who adopted him as his son, and distinguished him as such by all the tenderness of a paternal heart. some years had elapsed since ibrahim had first deplored the loss of a son, who, having been constantly ignorant of the name and titles of his father, had been unable to explain his origin to the robbers, was soon to become their chief. such were the unaccountable caprices of fortune, which led to the completion of the prophecy, that had destined him to become one day a parricide. ibrahim was wont to divert his grief by the pleasures of the chase; and this exercise soon became almost his only occupation. one evening that he had strayed, with a very slender escort, into the defiles of a very solitary mountain, a troop of robbers rushed upon him. the combat for sometime was furious. an arrow pierced the king; it excited the spirit of vengeance in his attendants, and they fought, determined to conquer or die. they were soon victorious. the murderer was taken, and conducted to the metropolis, that he might undergo the punishment due to his crime. ibrahim, on the bed of death, summoned the astrologers to attend him, and thus addressed them: "i was to have perished, you told me, by the hand of a son; but it is the hand of a robber that has inflicted the blow."--"sire," answered the sages, "forbear to seek an explanation. the robber"... they proceed no further. the young robber appears, and relates his history. ibrahim, while he bowed in submission to god, and adored his inscrutable decrees, blessed him also for having restored his son; and the tears which he saw flow from the eyes of shah abbas, were a consolation in his dying moments. application of astrology to the prolongation of life, &c. astrology was also made subservient to the means of prolonging human life; but how an art which determines the fate of mortals, and ascertains the impassable limits of the grave, could consistently be made subservient to such a purpose, we are rather at a loss to conceive, unless accounted for as follows. the teachers of divination maintained, that not only men, but all natural bodies, plants, animals, nay even whole countries, including every place and family, were under the government of some particular planet. as soon as the masters of the occult science had discovered by their tables, under what constellation the misfortune or distemper of any person originated, nothing farther was required, than that he should remove to a dwelling ruled by an opposite planet, and confine himself exclusively to such articles of food and drink as were under the influence of a different star. in this artificial manner they contrived to form a system, or peculiar classification of planets, namely, lunar, solar, mercurial and the like--and hence arose a confused map of dictated rules, which, when considered with reference to the purposes of health, cleanliness, exercise etc. form remarkable contrasts to those of the greeks. but this preventive and repulsive method was not merely confined to persons who suffered under some bodily disorder: even individuals, who enjoyed a good state of health, if an unlucky constellation happened to forebode a severe disease, or any other misfortune, were directed to choose a place of residence influenced by a more friendly star--or to adopt such aliment only, as being under the auspices of a propitious star, might counteract the malignant influence of its antagonist. it was also pretty generally believed and maintained, that a sort of intimate relation or sympathy subsisted between metals and plants: hence the names of the latter were given to the former, in order to denote this supposed connexion and affinity. the corresponding metals were melted into a common mass, under a certain planet, and were formed into small medals, or coins, with the firm persuasion, that he who carried such a piece about his person, might confidently expect the whole favour and protection of the planet, thus represented.[ ] thus we perceive how easy the transition is from one degree of folly to another; and this may help to account for the shocking delusions practised in the manufacturing and wearing of metallic amulets of a peculiar mould, to which were attributed, by a sort of magic influence, the power and protection of the respective planet: these charms were thought to possess virtue sufficient to overrule the bad effects presaged by an unlucky hour of birth, to promote to places of honour and profit, and to be of potent efficacy in matters of commerce and matrimony. the german soldiers, in the dark and superstitious ages, believed that if the figure of mars, cast and engraved under the sign of the scorpion, were worn about the neck, it would render them invulnerable, and insure success to their military enterprises--hence the reason why amulets were then found upon every soldier, either killed in battle or taken prisoner. we shall so far conclude these observations on the chimera of astrology and medicine with the following remarks in the words of chamber against knight's work,[ ] which defends this fanciful science, if science it may be called. "it demonstrates nothing while it defends every thing. it confutes, according to knight's own ideas: it alleges a few scattered facts in favour of astrological productions, which may be picked up in that immensity of fabling which disgraces history. he strenuously denies, or ridicules, what the greatest writers have said of this fanciful art, while he lays great stress on some passages from obscure authors, or what is worse, from authors of no authority."--the most pleasant part, however, is at the close where he defends the art from the objections of mr. chamber by recrimination. chamber had enriched himself by medical practice, and when he charges the astrologers by merely aiming to gain a few beggarly pence, sir christopher catches fire, and shews by his quotations, that if we are to despise an art by its professors attempting to subsist, or for the objections which may be raised against its vital principles, we ought by this argument most heartily to despise the medical science, and medical men; he gives all here he can collect against physic and physicians, and from the confessions of galen and hippocrates, avicenna and agrippa, medicine is made to appear a vainer science than even astrology itself. lilly's opinions, and his pretended science, were such favourites of the age, that the learned gataker[ ] wrote professedly against this popular delusion. at the head of his star-expounding friends, lilly not only formally replied to, but persecuted gataker annually in his predictions, and even struck at his ghost, when beyond the grave. gataker died in july , and lilly, having written in his almanack for that year, for the month of august, the following barbarous latin line-- hoc in tumbo, jacet presbyter et nebulo! here in this tomb lies a presbyter and a knave, had the impudence to assert, that he had predicted gataker's death! but the truth is, it was an empty epitaph to the "lodgings to let:" it stood empty, reader, for the first passenger that the immortal ferryman should carry over the styx. but hear that arch imposter old patridge of more modern date whose _gulleries_ appear to have no end. "the practice of astrology is divided into speculative and theoretical." (astronomy and judicial astrology). the first teaches us how to know the stars and planets, and to find their places and motions. the second directs us to the knowledge of the influence and operations of the stars and planets upon sublunary bodies, and without this last the former is of little use. astronomy cannot direct and inform us of the secret influences and operations of the stars and planets, without the assistance of' the _most sublime_ art of astrology. for astronomy is conversant about the subject of this art, and doth furnish the astrologer with matter whereon to exercise his judgment, but astrology disposes this matter into predictions, or rational conjectures, as time and occasion require. "the practice again is subdivided into two parts, or quadripartite, as ptolomy (lib. ) declares: the first considers the general state of the world, and from eclipses and comets, great conjunctions, annual revolutions, quarterly ingressions and lunations, also the rising, culminating, and setting of the fixed stars, together with the configurations of the planets both to the sun and among themselves, judgment is deduced, and the astrologer doth frame his annual predictions of all sensitive and vegetative things lying in the air, earth, or water; of plague, plenty, dearth, mutations of the air, wars, peace, and other general accidents of countries, provinces, cities, etc. "the second of these subdivided parts, in particular, respects only the private state of every single man and woman, which must be performed from the scheme of the nativity, the knowledge of which is of most excellent use to all persons. therefore let the nativities of children be diligently observed for the future, that is to say, the day, hour, and minute of birth as near as can be, which will be of use to the astrological physician, for the most principal conjecture of the malignity of the disease, whether it be curable, or shall end with death, depends upon the knowledge of the nativity; and very rarely any disease invades a person, but some unfortunate direction of the luminaries or ascendant to the body, or beams of malignant planets preceded the same, or did then operate, or at least some evil revolution, profection or transit, which cannot be discovered by any other way but by astrology. moreover, it would be convenient that the true time of the first falling sick be observed precisely, and by that, together with the nativity, be judiciously compared, the physician shall gain more credit than by all his other skill; and herein, the astrologer's foresight shall often contradict the judgment of the physician; for when the astrologer foretells a phlegmatic man, that at such a time he shall be afflicted with a choleric disease, the doctor will perceive by his physical symptoms, the astrologer, from his knowledge in more secret causes of nature, hath excelled him in his art. "now if god almighty do not countermand or check the ordinary course of nature, or the matter of elementary bodies here below be not unproportionable, and thereby unapt to receive their impressions, there is no reason why, in a natural and physical necessity, astrological predictions should not succeed and take effect, and by how much the knowledge which we have by the known causes is more demonstrative and infallible than that which we have either by signs or effects, so much by this companion doth astrology appear worthy to be preferred before physic." cardan, who was an excellent physician saith: "if by the art of astrology he had not better attained to the knowledge of his diseases, than the physician that would have administered to him by his skill, he had been assuredly cured by death, rather than preserved alive by physic. (vide his comment. upon ptol. quidrepart.) from hence it appears it is necessary that the physician should be skilful in astrology, but on the contrary, _ex quovis legno non fit mercurius_, every astrologer cannot be a physician; if the nativity be but precisely known, or if, but _tempus ablatum_ or _suppositum_, and withal some notable accidents of sickness, danger of drowning, peril by fire, marriage, or other, the like accidents may be foreseen." the astrologers were a set of cunning, equivocal rogues; the more cautious of whom only uttered their prognostications in obscure and ambiguous language, which might be applied to all things, times, princes, and nations whatever. an almanack maker, a spanish friar, predicted, in clear and precise words, the death of henry the fourth of france; and pierese, though he had no faith in star-gazing, yet, alarmed at whatever menaced the life of a beloved sovereign, consulted with some of the king's friends, and had the spanish almanack laid before his majesty, who courteously thanked them for their solicitude, but utterly slighted the prediction: the event occurred, and in the following year, the spanish _lilly_ spread his own fame in an new almanack. this prediction of the friar, was the result either of his being acquainted with the plot, or from his being made an instrument for the purposes of those who were. cornelius agrippa rightly designates astrologers "a perverse and preposterous generation of men, who profess to know future things, but in the meantime are altogether ignorant of past and present; and undertaking to tell all people most obscure and hidden secrets abroad, at the same time, know not what happens in their own houses." but this agrippa, for profound and solid lying, was renown'd: the anthroposophus, and floud, and jacob behmen, understood; knew many an amulet and charm that would do neither good nor harm. he understood the speech of birds as well as they themselves do words; could tell what subtlest parrots mean that speak and think contrary, clean; what member 'tis of whom they talk, why they cry, rope and--walk, knave, walk. he could foretell whatever was by consequence to come to pass; as death of great men, alterations, diseases, battles, inundations: all this without th' eclipse o' th' sun, or dreadful comet, he hath done by inward light, a way as good, and easy to be understood: but with more lucky hit than those that use to make the stars depose as if they were consenting to all mischief in the world men do: or like the devil, did tempt and sway 'em to rogueries, and then betray 'em. we shall conclude our astrological strictures with the following advertisement, which affords as fine a satirical specimen of quackery as is to be met with. it is extracted from "poor robin's" almanack for ; and may not be without its use, to many at the present day. we will vouch for it being harmless, but as we are not in the secret of all that it contains, our readers must endeavour to get the information that may be wanted, on certain important points, from other quarters. it will shew, however, that the almanack astrologers did not live upon the best terms, but like their predecessors, were constantly abusing and attacking each other. advertisement. "the best time to cut hair. how moles and dreams are to be interpreted. when most proper season to bleed. under what aspect of the moon best to draw teeth, and cut corns. pairing of nails, on what day unlucky. what the kindest sign to graft or inoculate in; to open bee-hives, and kill swine. how many hours boiling my lady kent's pudding requires. with other notable questions, fully and faithfully resolved, by me sylvester patridge, student in physic and astrology, near the gun in moorfields." "of whom likewise may be had, at reasonable rates, trusses, antidotes, elixirs, love-powders. washes for freckles, plumpers, glass-eyes, false calves and noses, ivory-jaws, and a new receipt to turn red hair into black." old robin's almanack was evidently the best of the time, and free from all the astrological cant with which patridge's merlinus liberatus was filled; against which poor robin did not a little declaim. the motto to his title runs thus:-- "we use no weather-wise predictions nor any such-like airy fictions; but (which we think is much the best) write the plain truth, or crack a jest: and (without any further pretence) confess we write, and think of the pence: for that's the aim of all who write, profit to gain, mixed with delight." poor old robin attacked the astrologers of his day with no little vehemence: "how different a task is it," says he, "for man to behave so in this world as to please all the people that inhabit it! a man who makes use of his best endeavours to please every body is sure to please but very few, and by that means displease a great many; which may very possibly be the case with poor robin this year. but (be that as it will) _old bob_ is sometimes well pleased, when rogues, prick-eared coxcombs, fools, and such like, are the most displeased at him: be it therefore known, that it is only men of sense and integrity, (whether they have much money or no money) that he has any, (the least) regard for: i see very plainly, that an humble man is (generally) accounted _base_; if otherwise, he is esteemed _proud_; a bold look is looked upon as _impudence_; if modest, (then to be sure) he must be _hypocritical_; if his behaviour is grave, it is owing to a _sullenness_ of temper; if affable, he is but _little_ regarded; if strictly just, then _cruel_ must be his character; but, if merciful and forbearing, then (of consequence) a silly, sheepish-headed fool! now, i challenge all the ass-trologers and conjurers, throughout the whole kingdom, to demonstrate that all the whimsey-headed opinions which different men retain of different actions, together with their being so vastly different at different times, one from another; i say, i call upon them all to prove, that they are (wholly) owing to the starry influences! there being, (i believe) in general as many different ideas and conceptions in the mind of mankind, as there are variety of complexions and countenances." his observations on the four _unequal_ quarters of the year, as he terms them, are no less satirical, humorous, and full of truth, and so much in "opposition" with others of the trade, that poor old robin, in good sense and trite remarks, carries away the palm from all his predecessors and contemporaries; indeed, he is so little of an astrologer, that, instead of consulting the angles, aspects, conjunctions and trines, of the planets, he is vulgar enough to attach more importance to the substantials and doings of this nether world. we present our readers with the following as a specimen, which, though in his usual way, a little rough-mouthed, occasionally is free from that almanack-cant which characterises the vocations of his fellow-labourers in the same field. spring, which, being the most delightful season in the whole year, as it comes the next after a long and cold winter makes it as welcome as it is delightful; for now the lengthening days afford full time for every body but drunkards and watchmen to finish their respective day's works by day-light, besides some time to spare to walk abroad, to see the fine new livery with which dame flora has now decked out mother earth. in the opening of the spring, when all nature begins to recover herself, the same animal pleasure which makes the bird sing, and the whole brute creation rejoice, rises very sensibly in the hearts of mankind. this quarter will bring whole shoals of mackerel, and plenty of green pease; likewise gooseberries, cherries, cheese-cakes, and custards. but, let us now moralize,--and improve these vernal delights into real virtue; and, when we find within ourselves a secret satisfaction arising from the beauties of the creation, may we consider to whom we stand indebted for all these various gratifications and entertainments of sense; who it is that opens thus his hand, and fills the world with good! but so soon as this quarter is ended; i.e. there, or then, or thereabout, for in this case a day or two can break no great squares--i say this quarter (as usual) will be followed by the summer, when, and at which time the days will have attained their greatest, and consequently the nights the shortest lengths. june, in which month this quarter is said to begin, will retain some likeness, if not exhibit the perfections of the spring; but the two next succeeding months will perhaps have less vigour, but a greater degree of heat; for, as they pass on, they will be ripening the fruits of the earth; whilst the dog star is shooting his rays amongst, the industrious farmer will have business enough upon his hands: for now he expects to be reaping and gathering together the returns of his labour; but then he must expect, nevertheless, to bear the heat and burthen of the day. this quarter very justly represents a man in the full vigour of health and strength; the beauty of the spring is gone! the strength of summer is of short continuance! it will very soon be succeeded by autumn: thus, and thus (o reader) do then consider, hast thou seen the seasons, two, three, or four times return in regular succession: remember that the time is coming, when all opportunities of this sort will be for ever hid from thine eyes: remember if forty years have passed thee, i say, i would have thee remember, that thy spring is gone, thy summer almost spent! have then, therefore, a very serious retrospective view of thy past, and, (if it please god) a fixed resolution to amend thy prolonged life: then being now arrived almost on the eve of autumn which begins this year (as usual) when, or then, or thereabouts, the time the summer quarter ends--namely, when the nights begin to grow longer and the days shorter: this is the time when the barns are filled with wheat, which soon must be thrashed out, in order to be sowed again. this also is the time when the orchards abound with fruits of the kind, and consequently the properest time to make cider. lamentable now must be the case of those poor women who, in this quarter, happen to long for green pease or strawberries; for i dare assure them, upon the _honest word_ of an astrologer, that they can get none on this side of next easter. some now-abouts under the notion of soldiers, shall sally out at night upon _pullen_, or perhaps lie in embuscade for a rope of onions, as if they were welsh freebooters. loss of time and money may be recovered by industry: but to be a fool-born, or a rogue in nature, are diseases incurable. remember that in any quarter of the year, this is almost always a certain presage of a wedding, when all parties are agreed, and the parson in readiness; and then you must be sure to have money in readiness too, or your intended marriage may happen to prove a miscarriage. but those who are able to pay for tying the knot, when it is fairly tied, may go home to dinner and be merry; go to the tavern and be merry; go to supper and be merry; rise next morning and be merry: and let the world know, that a married life is a plentiful life, when people have good estates; a fruitful life when they have many children; and an happy life, when man and wife love each other as they ought to do, and never quarrel nor disagree. of the winter quarter. but now comes on the cold, dirty, dithering, pouting, rainy, shivering, freezing, blowing, stormy, blustering, cruel quarter called winter; the very thoughts of it are enough to fright one; but that it very luckily happens to be introduced (this year) by a good, fat merry christmas: yet it is the last and worse, and very much resembles extreme old age accompanied by poverty; this quarter is also pretty much like pharoah's lean kine; for it generally (we find) eats up and devours most of the produce of the preceding seasons: now the sun entering the southern tropic, affords us the least share of his light, and consequently the longest long nights: yet, nevertheless, in this uncomfortable quarter, you may possibly pick up some crumbs of comfort, provided you have good health, good store of the ready rhino, a good wife, and other good things about you: and especially a good conscience: for then the starry influences must necessarily appear very benign, notwithstanding the inclemency of the weather; for in such cases there will be frequent _conjunctions_ of sirloins and ribs of beef; _aspects_ of legs and shoulders of mutton, with _refrenations_ of loins of veal, shining near the watery triplicity of plumb-porridge--together with trine and sextile of minced pies; collared brawn from the ursus major, and sturgeon from pisces--all for the honour of christmas: and i think it is a much pleasanter sight than a covent-garden comedy, to see a dozen or two of husbandmen, farmers, and honest tenants, at a nobleman's table (who never raised their rents) worry a sirloin, and hew down, (i mean cut up) a goose like a log: while a good cheshire cheese, and plenty of nappy ale, and strong march beer, washes down the merry goblets, sets all their wit afloat, and sends them to their respective homes, as happy as kings. and now, kind loving readers, every one, god send y'a good new-year, when the old one 's gone. footnotes: [ ] the following prediction, and the verification of it are of so recent a date, that we cannot resist giving it a place in our pages. in the account of the late captain flinder's voyage of discovery, is the melancholy relation of the loss of the master, mr. thistle, with seven others, in a boat, on the inhospitable shores of terra australia. to this narrative, the following note is subjoined, which we shall here quote in captain flinder's own words: "this evening, mr. fowler, the lieutenant, told me a circumstance which i thought very extraordinary, and it afterwards proved to be more so. while we were lying at spithead, mr. thistle was one day waiting on shore, and having nothing else to do, went to a certain old man, named pine, to have his fortune told. the cunning man informed him that he was going on a long voyage, and that the ship, on arriving at her destination, would be joined by another vessel. that such was intended, he might have learnt privately; but he added that mr. thistle would be lost before the other vessel joined. as to the manner of his loss the magician refused to give any information. my boat's crew, hearing what mr. thistle said, went to consult the wise man, and after the prefatory information of a long voyage, they were told that they would be shipwrecked, but not in the ship they were going out in; whether they would escape and return to england, he was not permitted to reveal. this tale mr. thistle often told at the mess-table; and i remarked, with some pain, in a future part of the voyage, that every time my boat's crew went to embark in the lady nelson, there was some degree of apprehension amongst them, that the time of the predicted shipwreck was arrived. i make no comment, (says capt. flinders,) upon this story, but to recommend a commander, if possible, to prevent any of his crew from consulting fortune-tellers."--it should be observed that, strange as it may appear, every particular of these predictions came exactly to pass, for the master and his boat's crew were lost before the investigator was joined by the lady nelson, from port-jackson; and when the former ship was condemned, the people embarked with their commander on board the porpoise, which was wrecked on a coral reef, and nine of the crew were lost. [ ] in , the passion for horoscopes and expounding the stars, prevailed in france among the first rank. the new-born child was usually presented naked to the astrologer, who read the first lineaments in its forehead, and the transverse lines in its hands, and thence wrote down its future destiny. catherine de médicis carried henry iv, when a child, to old nostradamus, who antiquaries esteem more for his chronicle of provence than for his vaticinating powers. the sight of the revered seer, with a heard which "streamed like a meteor in the air," terrified the future hero, who dreaded a whipping from so grave a personage. [ ] the chaldean sages were nearly put to the route by a quarto pack of artillery, fired on them by mr. john chamber, in . apollo did not use marsyas more inhumanly than his scourging pen this mystical race; and his personalities made them sorely feel it. however, a norwich knight, the very quixote of astrology, arrayed in the enchanted armour of his occult authors, encountered this pagan in a most stately carousal. he came forth with "a defence of judicial astrologye, in answer to a treatise lately published by mr. john chamber. by christopher knight. printed at cambridge, ." [ ] vide amulets passim. [ ] lilly's work, a voluminous quarto monument of the folly of the age, was sold originally for four guineas; it is entitled "christian astrology," modestly treated, in three books, by william lilly, student in astrology, nd. edition . every page is embellished with a horoscope which, sitting on the pretending tripod, he explains with the utmost facility. there is also a portrait of this arch rogue and star-gazer, an admirable illustration for lavater. as to lilly's great skill in prophecy, there goes a pleasant story related by a kinsman of dr. case, his successor--namely--that a person wanting to consult him on a certain point coming to his house one morning, lilly himself going to the door, saw a piece of filthy carrion which some one, who had more wit than manners, had left there: and being much offended at its unsightly appearance wished heartily he did but know who had treated him in that manner by leaving such an unwelcome legacy, as it were, in his very teeth, that he might punish them accordingly; which his customer observing when the conjurer demanded his business, "nothing at all," said he, "for i'm sure if you can't find out who has defiled your own door, it is impossible you should discover anything relating to me," and with this caustic remark he left him. [ ] the reverend and learned thomas gataker, with whom lilly was engaged in a dispute, in his annotations on the tenth chapter of jeremiah and th verse, called him a "blind buzzard," and lilly reflected again on his antagonist in his _annus tenebrosus_. mr. gataker's reply was entitled thomas gataker, b.d. his vindication of the annotation by him published upon these words, "thus saith the lord," (jer. x. ) against the scurrilous aspersions of that grand impostor william lilly; as also against the various expositions of two of his advocates mr. john swan, and another by him cited but not named. together with the annotations themselves, wherein the pretended grounds of judiciary astrology, and the scripture proofs produced to it, are discussed and refuted. london, , in th part . our author making animadversions on this piece in his english merlin, produced a third piece from mr. gataker, called a discourse apologetical, wherein lilly's lewd, and loud lies in his merlin or pasquil for , are clearly laid open; his shameless desertion of his own cause further discovered, his abominable slanders fully refuted, and his malicious and _murtherous_ mind, inciting to a general massacre of god's ministers, from his own pen, evidently known, etc. london . chapter x. oneirocritical presentiment, illustrating the cause, effects, principal phenomena, and definition of dreams, etc. as we shall have to speak of the art practised through the medium, termed incubation, of curing diseases, it may be proper to say something previously on the interpretation of dreams through whose agency these events were said to be realized. oneirocritics, or interpreters of dreams, were called conjecturers, a very fit and proper name for these worldly wise men, according to the following lines, translated from euripides-- he that conjectures least amiss of all, the best of prophets is. to the delusion of dreams not a few of the ancient philosophers lent themselves. among these were democritus, aristotle, and his follower themistius, siresius the platonic; who so far relied on dreams which some accident or other brought about, that they thence endeavoured to persuade men there are no dreams but what are founded on realities. for, say they, as the celestial influences produce various forms and changes in corporeal matter, so out of certain influences, predominating over the power of the fancy, the impression of visions is made, being consentaneous, through the disposition of the heavens, to the effect produced; more especially in dreams, because the mind, being then at liberty from all corporeal cares and exercises, more freely receives the divine influences: it happens, therefore that many things are revealed to them that are asleep, which are concealed from them that are awake. with these and such reasons it is pretended that much is communicated through the medium of dreams: when soft sleep the body lays at ease, and from the heavy mass the fancy frees, whate'er it is in which we take delight, and think of most by day we dream at night. the transition from sleep is very natural to that of dreams, the wonderful and mysterious phenomena of that state, the ideal transactions and vain illusions of the mind. according to wolfius, an eminent philosopher of silesia, every dream originates in some sensation, and is continued by the succession of phantoms; but no phantasm can arise in the mind without some previous sensation. and yet it is not easy to confirm this by experience, it being often difficult to distinguish those slight sensations, which give rise to dreams, from phantasms, or objects of imagination.[ ] the series of phantasms which thus constitute a dream, seems to be accounted for by the law of the imagination, or association of ideas; though it may be very difficult to assign the cause of every minute difference, not only in different subjects, but in the same, at different times, and in different circumstances. and hence m. formey, who adopts the opinion of wolfius, concludes, that those dreams are supernatural, which either do not begin by sensation, or are not continued by the law of imagination.[ ] the opinion is as old as aristotle, who asserted, that a dream is only the [greek: phantasma] or _appearance_ of things, excited in the mind, and remaining after the objects are removed.[ ] the opinion of lucretius, translated in our motto, was likewise that of tully.[ ] locke also traces the origin of dreams to previous sensations. "the dreams of sleeping men," says this profound philosopher, "are all made up of the waking man's ideas, though for the most part oddly put together."[ ] and dr. hartley, who explains all the phenomena of the imagination by his theory of vibrations and associations, says, that dreams are nothing but the imaginations or reveries of sleeping men, and that they are deducible from three causes--viz, the impressions and ideas lately received, and particularly those of the preceding day, the state of the body, more especially of the stomach and brain, and association.[ ] macrobius mentions five sorts of dreams. st. vision-- nd. a discovery of something between sleeping and waking-- rd. a suggestion cast into our fancy, called by cicero, _visum_,-- th. an ordinary dream--and fifth, a divine apparition or revelation in our sleep; such as were the dreams of the prophets, and of joseph, as also of the eastern magi. cause of dreams. avicen makes the cause of dreams to be an ultimate intelligence moving the moon in the midst of that light with which the fancies of men are illuminated while they sleep. aristotle refers the cause of them to common sense, but placed in the fancy. averroes, an arabian physician, places it in the imagination; democritus ascribes it to little images, or representations, separated from the things themselves; plato among the specific and concrete notions of the soul; albertus to the superior influences, which continually flow from the sky, through many specific channels. some physicians attribute the cause of dreams to vapours and humours, and the affections and cares of persons predominant when awake; for, say they, by reason of the abundance of vapours, which are exhaled in consequence of immoderate feeding, the brain is so stuffed by it, that monsters and strange chimera are formed, of which the most inordinate eaters and drinkers furnish us with sufficient instances. some dreams, they assert, are governed partly by the temperature of the body, and partly by the humour which mostly abounds in it; to which may be added the apprehensions which have preceded the day before; and which are often remarked in dogs, and other animals, which bark and make a noise in their sleep. dreams, they observe, proceed from the humours and temperature of the body; we see the choleric dreams of fire, combats, yellow colours, etc. the phlegmatic of water baths, of sailing on the sea; the melancholies of thick fumes, deserts, fantasies, hideous faces, etc. they that have the hinder part of their brain clogged, with viscous humours, called by physicians ephialtes incubus, dream that they are suffocated. and those who have the orifice of their stomach loaded with malignant humours, are affrighted with strange visions, by reason of those venemous vapours that mount to the brain and distemper it. poetical illustrations of the effects of the imagination in dreams. were we to enter more profoundly into the mysterious phenomena of dreams, our present lucubrations might become too abstruse; and, after all, no philosophical nor satisfactory account can be given of them. such of our readers therefore, as may wish for a more minute inquiry into the opinions above stated, we beg leave to refer to the respective authors whom we have already quoted. the reader, who is fond to find amusement even in a serious subject, from the scenes of nocturnal imagination, will be glad, perhaps for a moment, to be transported into the regions of poetic fancy. and here we find that the fancy is not more sportive in dreams, than are the poets in their descriptions of her nocturnal vagaries. on the effects of the imagination in dreams, the following effusion, put into the mouth of the volatile mercurio, is an admirable illustration:-- o, then i see, queen mab has been with you. she is the fancy's midwife, and she comes in shape no bigger than an agate stone on the fore-finger of an alderman, drawn with a team of little atomies, athwart men's noses as they lie asleep: her waggon spokes made of long spinners' legs; the cover of the wings of grasshoppers; the traces of the smallest spider's web; the collars of the moonshine's watery beams; her whip of cricket's bone; the lash of film; her waggoner, a small grey coated gnat, not half so big as a round little worm, prickt from the lazy finger of a maid. her chariot is an empty hazel nut, made by the joiner squirril, old grub, time out of mind the fairies' coachmakers: and in this state she gallops night by night, thro' lovers' brains, and then they dream of love; on courtiers' knees, that dream on curtsies strait; o'er lawyers' fingers, who strait dream on fees; o'er ladies lips, who strait on kisses dream, which oft the angry mab with blisters plague, because their breath with sweetmeats tainted are. sometimes she gallops o'er a lawyer's nose, and then dreams he of smelling out a suit, and sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig tail, tickling the parson as he lies asleep; then dreams he of another benefice; sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck and then he dreams of cutting foreign throats, of breaches, ambuscades, spanish blades, of healths fire fathom deep; and then anon drums in his ears, at which he starts and wakes, and being thus frighted, swears a pray'r or two, and sleeps again. lucretius, and petronius in his poem on the vanity of dreams, had preceded our immortal bard in a description of the effects of dreams on different kinds of persons. both the passages here alluded to, only serve to shew the vast superiority of shakspeare's boundless genius: their sense is thus admirably expressed by stepney: at dead of night imperial reason sleeps, and fancy with her train, her revels keeps; then airy phantoms a mix'd scene display, of what we heard, or saw, or wish'd by day; for memory those images retains which passion form'd, and still the strongest reigns. huntsmen renew the chase they lately run, and generals fight again their battles won. spectres and fairies haunt the murderer's dreams; grants and disgraces are the courtier's themes. the miser spies a thief, or a new hoard; the cit's a knight; the sycophant a lord, thus fancy's in the wild distraction lost, with what we most abhor, or covet most. honours and state before this phantom fall; for sleep, like death, its image, equals all. chaucer in his tale of the cock and fox, has a fine description, thus versified by dryden:-- dreams are but interludes which fancy makes: when monarch reason sleeps, this mimic wakes; compounds a medley of disjointed things, a court of coblers and a mob of kings: light fumes are merry, grosser fumes are sad: both are the reasonable soul run mad; and many monstrous forms in sleep we see, that neither were, or are, or e'er can be. sometimes forgotten things, long cast behind, rush forward in the brain, and come to mind. the nurse's legends are for truth received, and the man dreams but what the boy believed, sometimes we but rehearse a former play, the night restores our actions done by day; as hounds in sleep will open for their prey. in short, the farce of dreams is of a piece in chimeras all; and more absurd or less. shakspeare again:-- i talk of dreams, which are the children of an idle brain, begot of nothing but vain phantasy, which is as thin of substance as the air, and more inconsistant than the wind. nor must milton be omitted-- in the soul are many lesser faculties, that serve reason as chief; among these fancy next her office holds; of all external things, which the five watchful senses represent, she forms imaginations, airy shapes, which reason joining, or disjoining, frames, and all that we affirm, or what deny, or call our knowledge or opinion; then retires into her private cell, when nature rests. oft in her absence mimic fancy wakes, to imitate her; but misjoining shapes, wild works produces oft, but most in dreams ill matching words or deeds, long past or tale. principal phenomena in dreaming. from these practical descriptions let us proceed to take a view of the principal phenomena in dreaming. and first, mr. locke's beautiful _modes of_ which will greatly illustrate the preceding observations. "when the mind," says locke, "turns its view inward upon itself, and contemplates its own actions, _thinking_ is the first that occurs. in it the mind observes a great variety of modifications, and from thence receives distinct _ideas_. thus the perception, which actually accompanies, and is annexed to any impression on the body, made by an external object, being distinct from all other modifications of thinking, furnishes the mind with a distinct idea which we call _sensation_; which is, as it were, the actual entrance of an idea into the understanding by the senses. "the same idea, when it occurs again without the operation of the like object on the external sensory, is _remembrance_: if it be sought after by the mind, and with pain and endeavour found, and brought again in view, it is _recollection_: if it be held there long under consideration, it is _contemplation_; when ideas float in our mind without any reflexion or regard of the understanding, it is that which the french call _réverie_;[ ] our language has scarce a name for it. when the ideas that offer themselves (for as i have observed in another place, while we are awake, there will always be a train of ideas succeeding one another in our minds) are taken notice of, and, as it were, registered in the memory, it is _attention_; when the mind, with great earnestness, and of choice, fixes its view on any idea, considers it on all sides, and will not be called off by the ordinary solicitations of other ideas, it is what we call _intention_ or _study_. sleep without dreaming is rest from all these: and _dreaming_ itself, is the having of ideas (while the outward senses are stopped, so that they receive not outward objects with their usual quickness) in the mind, not suggested by any external objects, or known occasion, nor under any choice or conduct of the understanding at all, and whether that which we call _ecstasy_, be not dreaming with the eyes open, i leave to be examined." dr. beattie, in his "dissertations moral and critical," has an ingenious essay on this subject, in which he attempts to ascertain, not so much the _efficient_ as the _final_ causes of the phenomenon, and to obviate those superstitions in regard to it, which have sometimes troubled weak minds. he labours, with great earnestness, to shew, that dreams may be of use in the way of physical admonition: that persons, who attend to them with this view, may make important discoveries with regard to their health; that they may be serviceable as the means of moral improvement; that, by attending to them, we may discern our predominant passions, and receive good hints for the regulation of them; that they may have been intended by providence to serve as an amusement to the mental powers; and that dreaming is not universal, because, probably, all constitutions do not require such intellectual amusement. in observations of this kind, we may discover the ingenuity of fancy and the sagacity of conjecture. we may find amusement in the arguments, but we look in vain for satisfaction. nature, certainly, does nothing in vain, yet we are far from thinking, that man is able, in every case, to discover her intentions. final causes, perhaps, ought never to be the subject of human speculation, but when they are plain and obvious. to substitute vain conjectures, instead of the designs of providence, on subjects where those designs are beyond our reach, serves only to furnish matter for the cavils of the sceptical, and the sneers of the licentious. among the many striking phenomena in our dreams, it may be observed, that, while they last, the memory seems to lie wholly torpid, and the understanding to be employed only about such objects as are then presented, without comparing the present with the past. when we sleep, we often converse with a friend who is either absent or dead, without remembering that the grave or the ocean is between us. we float, like a feather, upon the wind; for we find ourselves this moment in england, and the next in india, without reflecting that the laws of nature are suspended, or inquiring how the scene could have been so suddenly shifted before us. we are familiar with prodigies; we accommodate ourselves to every event, however romantic; and we not only reason, but act upon principles, which are in the highest degree absurd and extravagant. our dreams, moreover, are so far from being the effect of a voluntary effort, that we neither know of what we shall dream, or whether we shall dream at all. but sleep is not the only time in which strange and unconnected objects involve our ideas in confusion. besides the _réveries_ of the day, already spoken of, we have, in a moral view, our _waking-dreams_, which are not less chimerical, and impossible to be realized, than the imaginations of the night. night visions may befriend---- our waking dreams are fatal. how i dreamt of things impossible (could sleep do more?) of joys perpetual in perpetual change! of stable pleasures on the tossing wave! eternal sunshine in the storms of life! how richly were my noon-tide trances hung, with gorgeous tapestries of pictur'd joys! till at deaths' toll,---- starting i woke, and found myself undone. many of the fabulous stories of ghosts or apparitions have originated unquestionably in dreams. there are times of slumber when we are sensible of being asleep. "when the thoughts are much troubled," says hobbes, "and when a person sleeps without the circumstance of going to bed, or pulling off his clothes, as when he nods in his chair, it is very difficult to distinguish a dream from a reality. on the contrary, he that composes himself to sleep, in case of any uncouth or absurd fancy, easily suspects it to have been a dream."[ ] on this principle, hobbes has ingeniously accounted for the spectre which is said to have appeared to brutus; and the well-known story told by clarendon, of the apparition of the duke of buckingham's father will admit of a similar solution. there was no man at that time in the kingdom so much the topic of conversation as the duke; and, from the corruptness of his character, he was very likely to fall a sacrifice to the corruptness of the times. sir george villiers is said to have appeared to the man at midnight--there is therefore the greatest probability that the man was asleep; and the dream affrighting him, made a strong impression, and was likely to be repeated. history furnishes us with numerous instances of a forecast having been communicated through the medium of dreams, some of which are so extraordinary as almost to shake our belief that the hand of providence is not sometimes evident through their instrumentality. cicero, in his first book on divination, tells us, that heraclides, a clever man, and who had been a disciple of plato, writes that the mother of phalaris saw in a dream the statues of the gods which she had consecrated in the house of her son; and among other things, it appeared to her, that from a cup which mercury held in his hand, he had spilled some blood from it, and that the blood had scarcely touched the ground, than rising up in large bubbles it filled the whole house. this dream of the mother was afterwards but too truly verified in the cruelty of the son. cyrus dreamt that seeing the sun at his feet, he made three different unsuccessful attempts to lay his hand upon it, at each of which it evaded him. the persian magi who interpreted this dream told him that these three attempts to seize the sun signified that he would reign thirty years. this prediction was verified: he died at the age of seventy, having begun to reign when he was forty years old. "there is doubtless," says cicero, "something even among barbarians which marks that they possess the gift of presentiment and divination." the indian calanus mounting the flaming faggot on which he was about to be burnt, exclaimed "o what a fine exit from life, when my body, like that of hercules, shall be consumed by the fire, my spirit will freely enjoy the light." and alexander having asked if he had anything to say, he replied, "yes, i shall soon see you," which happened as he foretold, alexander having died a few days afterwards at babylon. xenophon, an ardent disciple of socrates, relates that in the war which he made in favour of young cyrus, he had some dreams which were followed by the most miraculous events. shall we say that xenophon does not speak truth, or is too extravagant? what! so great a personage, and so divine a spirit as aristotle, can he be deceived? or does he wish to deceive others, when he tells us of eudemus of cyprus, one of his friends, wishing to go into macedonia, passed by pheres, a celebrated town in thessaly, which at that time was under the dominion of the tyrant alexander; and that having fallen very sick, he saw in a dream a very handsome young man, who told him that he would cure him, and that the tyrant alexander would shortly die, but as to himself, he would return home at the end of five years. aristotle remarks that the two first predictions were, indeed, soon accomplished; that eudemus recovered, and that the tyrant was killed by his wife's brothers; but that at the expiration of five years, the time at which it was hoped eudemus, according to the dream, was to return to sicily, his native country, news were received that he had been killed in a combat near syracuse; which gave rise to another interpretation of the dream, namely, that, when the spirit or soul of eudemus left his body, it went thence straight to his own house.--a cup of massy gold having been stolen from the temple of hercules, this god appeared in a dream to sophocles three consecutive times, and pointed out the thief to him; who was put to the torture, confessed the delinquency, and gave up the cup. the temple afterwards received the name of hercules indicator. an endless variety of similar instances, both from ancient and modern history, might be adduced of the singularity of dreams, as well as their instrumentality in revealing secrets which, without such agency, had lain for ever in oblivion; these, however, are sufficient for our purpose here; and the occurrence of one of a very recent date, connected with the discovery of the body of the murdered maria martin, in the red barn, is still fresh in the recollection of our readers. that there is a ridiculous infatuation attached by some people to dreams, which have no meaning, and which are the offsprings of the day's thoughts, even among persons whose education should inform them better, particularly among the fair sex, cannot be denied; indeed, a conversation seldom passes among them, but some inconsistent dream or other, form a leading feature of their gossip; and doubtless is with them an hysterical symptom. sometimes in our sleeping dreams, we imagine ourselves involved in inextricable woe, and enjoy at waking, the ecstasy of a deliverance from it. "and such a deliverance," says dr. beattie, "will every good man meet with at last, when he is taken away from the evils of life, and awakes in the regions of everlasting light and peace; looking back upon the world and its troubles, with a surprise and satisfaction similar in kind (though far higher in degree) to that which we now feel, when we escape from a terrifying dream, and open our eyes to the sweet serenity of a summer morning." sometimes, in our dreams, we imagine scenes of pure and unutterable joy; and how much do we regret at waking, that the heavenly vision is no more! but what must the raptures of the good man be, when he enters the regions of immortality, and beholds the radiant fields of permanent delight! the idea of such a happy death, such a sweet transition, from the dreams of earth to the realities of heaven, is thus beautifully described by dryden, in his poem entitled eleonora: "she passed serenely, with a single breath; this moment perfect health, the next was death; one sigh did her eternal bliss assure; so little penance needs when souls are pure. as gentle dreams our waking thoughts pursue; or, one dream past, we slide into a new; so close they follow and such wild order keep, we think ourselves awake and are asleep; so softly death succeeded life in her: she did but dream of heaven and she was there." definition of dreams. dreams are vagaries of the imagination, and in most instances proceed from external sensations. they take place only when our sleep is unsound, in which case the brain and nervous system are capable of performing certain motions. we seldom dream during the first hours of sleep; perhaps because the nervous fluid is then too much exhausted; but dreams mostly occur towards the morning, when this fluid has been, in some measure, restored. every thing capable of interrupting the tranquillity of mind and body, may produce dreams; such are the various kinds of grief and sorrow, exertions of the mind, affections and passions, crude and undigested food, a hard and inconvenient posture of the body. those ideas which have lately occupied our minds or made a lively impression upon us, generally constitute the principal subject of a dream, and more or less employ our imagination, when we are asleep. animals are likewise apt to dream, though seldom; and even men living temperately, and enjoying a perfect state of health, are seldom disturbed with this play of the fancy. and, indeed, there are examples of lively and spirited persons who never dream at all. the great physiologist haller considers dreaming as a symptom of disease, or as a stimulating cause, by which the perfect tranquillity of the sensorium is interrupted. hence, that sleep is the most refreshing, which is undisturbed by dreams, or, at least, when we have the distinct recollection of them. most of our dreams are then nothing more than sports of the fancy, and derive their origin chiefly from external impressions; almost every thing we see and hear, when awake, leads our imagination to collateral notions or representations, which, in a manner, spontaneously, and without the least effort, associate with external sensations. the place where a person whom we love formerly resided, a dress similar to that which we have seen her wear, or the objects that employed her attention, no sooner catch our eye, than she immediately occupies our mind. and, though these images associating with external sensations, do not arrive at complete consciousness within the power of imagination, yet even in their latent state they may become very strong and permanent. cicero furnishes us with a story of two arcadians, who, travelling together, arrived at megara, a city of greece, between athens and corinth, where one of them lodged in a friend's house, and the other at an inn. after supper, the person who lodged at the private house went to bed, and falling asleep, dreamed that his friend at the inn appeared to him and begged his assistance, because the innkeeper was going to kill him. the man immediately got out of bed much frightened at the dream; but recovering himself, and falling asleep again, his friend appeared to him a second time, and desired that, as he would not assist him in time, he would take care at least not to let his death go unpunished; that the innkeeper having murdered him had thrown his body into a cart and covered it with dung; he therefore begged that he would be at the city gate in the morning, before the cart was out; struck with this new dream, he went early to the gate, saw the cart, and asked the driver what was in it; the driver immediately fled, the dead body was taken out of the cart, and the innkeeper apprehended and executed. it is very frequently observed, that in a dream a series of representations is suddenly interrupted, and another series of a very different kind occupies its place. this happens as soon as an idea associates itself; which, from whatever cause, is more interesting than that immediately preceding. the last then becomes the prevailing one, and determines the association. yet, by this too, the imagination is frequently reconducted to the former series. the interruption in the course of the preceding occurrences is remarked, and the power of abstracting similarities is in search of the cause of this irregularity. hence, in such cases, there usually happens some unfortunate event or other, which occasions the interruption of the story. the representing power may again suddenly conduct us to another series of ideas, and thus the imagination may be led by the subreasoning power before defined, from one scene to another. of this kind, for instance, is the following remarkable dream, as related and explained in the works of professor maas of halle: "i dreamed once," says he "that the pope visited me. he commanded me to open my desk, and carefully examined all the papers it contained. while he was thus employed, a very sparkling diamond fell out of his triple crown into my desk, of which, however, neither of us took any notice. as soon as the pope had withdrawn, i retired to bed, but was soon obliged to rise, on account of a thick smoke, the cause of which i had yet to learn. upon examination i discovered, that the diamond had set fire to the papers in my desk, and burnt them to ashes." on account of the peculiar circumstances by which this dream was occasioned, it deserves the following short analysis. "on the preceding evening," says professor maas, "i was visited by a friend with whom i had a lively conversation, upon joseph iind's suppression of monasteries and convents. with this idea, though i did not become conscious of it in my dream, was associated the visit which the pope publicly paid the emperor joseph at vienna, in consequence of the measures taken against the clergy; and with this again was combined, however faintly, the representation of the visit, which had been paid me by my friend. these two events were, by the subreasoning faculty, compounded into one, according to the established rule--that things which agree in their parts, also correspond as to the whole;--hence the pope's visit, was changed into a visit made to me. the subreasoning faculty then, in order to account for this extraordinary visit, fixed upon that which was the most important object in my room, namely, the desk, or rather the papers contained in it. that a diamond fell out of the triple crown was a collateral association, which was owing merely to the representation of the desk. some days before when opening the desk, i had broken the glass of my watch, which i held in my hand, and the fragments fell among the papers. hence no farther attention was paid to the diamond, being a representation of a collateral series of things. but afterwards the representation of the sparkling stones was again excited, and became the prevailing idea; hence it determined the succeeding association. on account of its similarity, it excited, the representation of fire, with which it was confounded; hence arose fire and smoke.--but, in the event, the writings only were burnt, not the desk itself; to which, being of comparatively less value, the attention was not at all directed." it is farther observable, that there are in the human mind certain obscure representations, and that it is necessary to be convinced of the reality of these images, if we are desirous of perceiving the connexion, which subsists among the operations of the imagination. of the numerous phenomena, founded on obscure ideas, and which consequently prove their existence, we shall only remark the following. it is a well known fact, that many dreams originate in the impressions made in the body during sleep; and they consist of analogous images or such as are associated with sensations that would arise from these impressions, during a waking state. hence, for instance, if our legs are placed in a perpendicular posture, we are often terrified by a dream that implies the imminent danger of falling from a steep rock or precipice. the mind must represent to itself these external impressions in a lively manner, otherwise no ideal picture could be thus excited; but, as we do not become at all conscious of them, they are but faintly and obscurely represented. if we make a resolution to rise earlier in the morning than usual; and if we impress the determination on our mind, immediately before going to rest, we are almost certain to succeed. now it is self-evident that this success cannot be ascribed to the efforts of the body, but altogether to the mind, which probably, during sleep perceives and computes the duration of time, so that it makes an impression on the body, which enables us to awake at an appointed hour. yet all this takes place, without our consciousness, and the representations remain obscure. many productions of art are so complicated, that a variety of simple conceptions are requisite to lay the foundation of them; yet the artist is almost entirely unconscious of these individual notions. thus a person performs a piece of music, without being obliged to reflect, in a conscious manner, on the signification of the notes, their value, and the order of the fingers he must observe; nay even without clearly distinguishing the strings of the harp, or the keys of the harpsichord. we cannot attribute this to the mechanism of the body, which might gradually accustom itself to the accurate placing of the fingers. this could be applied only where we place a piece of music, frequently practised; but it is totally inapplicable to a new piece, which is played by the professor with equal facility, though he has never seen it before. in the latter case there must arise, necessarily, an ideal representation, or an act of judgment, previous to every motion of the finger. these arguments, we trust, are sufficient, to evince the occurrence of these obscure notions and representations, from which all our dreams originate. before, however, we close this subject, we shall relate the following extraordinary dream of the celebrated galileo, who at a very advanced age had lost his sight. in one of his walks over a beautiful plain, conducted by his pupil troicelli, the venerable sage related the following dream to him. "once," said he, "my eyes permitted me to enjoy the charms of these fields. but now, since their light is extinguished, these pleasures are lost to me for ever. heaven justly inflicts the punishment which was predicted to me many years ago. when in prison, and impatiently languishing for liberty, i began to be discontented with the ways of providence; copernicus appeared to me in a dream; his celestial spirit conducted me over luminous stars, and, in a threatening voice, reprehended me for having murmured against him, at whose _fiat_ all these worlds had proceeded from nothing. 'a time shall come (said he) when thine eyes shall refuse to assist thee in contemplating these wonders.'" we shall now proceed to notice the subject of dreams in another point of view--that is, as being employed as a medium of divination in the cure of diseases, in which the fancies of the brain appear, in reality, to as little advantage as they do with reference to any other considerations in which such pretended omens exist. footnotes: [ ] wolfius, psychol. empir. sect. . [ ] mém. de l'acad. de berlin, tom. ii. p. . [ ] arist. de insomn. cap . [ ] quae in vita usurpant homines, cogitant, curant, vident quaeque agunt vigilantes, agitantque, ea cuique in somno accidunt. _de div._ [ ] essay on human understanding, book, chap. i. sect . [ ] obs, on man, vol. , sect. . [ ] there is a phenomenon in the mind, which, though it happen to us while we are perfectly awake, yet approaches the nearest to sleep of any i know. it is called the _reverie_, or, as some term it, the _brown study_, a sort of middle state between waking and sleeping; in which, though our eyes are open, our senses seem to be entirely shut up, and we are quite insensible of every thing about us, yet we are all the while engaged in a musing indolence of thought, or a supine and lolling kind of roving from one fairy scene to another, without any self-command; from which, if any noise or accident rouse us, we wake as from a real dream, and are often as much at a loss to tell how our thoughts were employed, as if we had waked from the soundest sleep. this is frequently called _dreaming_, sometimes _absence_, a thing often observed in lovers and people of a melancholy or indeed speculative turn.--_fordyce's dialogues concerning education, vol. ii. p. ._ [ ] leviathan, part. . c. . chapter xi. on incubation; or the art of healing by visionary divination. medicine unquestionably ranks among the most ancient of all human sciences. in the infant state of society, when simplicity of manners characterised the pursuits of mankind, medical assistance was little wanted; but when the nature of man degenerated, and vice and luxury corrupted his habits of innocence and temperance, diseases sprung up which those aids alone could check or eradicate. the knowledge of them at first could not fail to be empirical and precarious. the sick were placed in the high ways, that travellers and passers by might assist them with their counsel; and at length the priesthood appropriated this privilege exclusively to themselves. it was not merely the sacerdotal dignity which rendered them objects of awe and reverence to the illiterate multitude; the priests were regarded as the depositaries of science and learning; and proved themselves as skilful as they were successful, in cementing their influence by those arts which were best calculated to inflame the prejudices of the vulgar in their favour. it is the work of ages to wean men and nations from popular illusions, and the deep-rooted opinions transmitted from sire to son: it cannot therefore surprise us, that even when the intellectual energy of greece was signalizing itself by efforts which have commanded the admiration of after ages, it should still remain a popular dogma in medicine "that persons labouring under bodily infirmity, might be thrown into a state of charmed torpor, in which, though destitute of any previous medical knowledge, they would be enabled to ascertain the nature of their malady, as well as of the diseases of others, and devise the means of their cure." upon this dogma was founded the mystery of incubations, or the art of healing by visionary divination. it is not our object here to discuss whether a man can be capable of divination: such a power, however, was assigned to him, not only by the vulgar, but by the greater number of the philosophical sects of antiquity; and it does appear to savour a little of temerity, that epicurus and the cynics should have ventured to reject a belief so universally and strenuously maintained, and resting on an infinity of traditions and accounts of prophets, in whom greece had abounded from her earliest times, and of whose divine gift of prophecy the firmest conviction was currently entertained. aeschylus, plutarch, apuleius, and other greek authors, bear ample testimony of this persuasion, and tell us that by uncommon and irregular motions of the body intoxicating vapours, or certain holy ejaculations, men might be thrown into an enchanted trance; in which, being in a state between sleeping and waking, they were unsusceptible of external impressions and obtaining a glimpse of futurity, were gifted with the power of prophecy. here their allusion, however, only concerns the celebrated divinations of the pythia.[ ] we must therefore, probe somewhat deeper, in order to illustrate that species of divination which was the result of dreams, and a source of divination on the nature of diseases and their remedies. this kind of superstition was in no less acceptation than the former among the ancients, whose temples were constantly crowded with the sick, and reverberated with their supplications for divinatory dreams, which were regarded as an immediate gift from the gods. indeed, the celestial origin of dreams was universally admitted by the nations of antiquity, and thence also their efficacy as oracles. nothing could be more natural than such an idea. from the crude and imperfect notions which long prevailed with respect to the soul, it was scarcely possible for them to ascribe the impressions, which their memory retained of the creation of their fancy during their slumbers, to the instrumentality of their own conceits; they could not fail therefore to impute them to the interposition of some foreign agent, and to whom more naturally could they refer them than to a divinity? when awake, they imagined themselves always attended by the gods in person, and ascribed every thought, and resolved every appearance or accident, which deviated from the common course of nature, to the immediate influence of a superintending deity. it was under such impressions that so many nations originally rested their belief in divinatory dreams. the records of antiquity therefore abound in instances (for the greater part of an early date) where the actions of men have been the result of a dream, whose conceit was entirely at variance with the real state of their affairs. it was not long before the diversity of dreams awakened their attention: some were connected and simple, others were obscure, and made up of curious fancies, though not incapable of being resolved by the windings and turnings of allegory. it was no unnatural transition from the received belief in dreams, to the idea that they might become the medium of seeking instruction from the gods: hence the institution of oracles, whose responses were given in dreams; and the addition of sleeping chambers to many temples, such as those in epidaurus and at oropos. here it was, that after pious ceremonies and prayers, men laid themselves down in expectation of dreams; when the expectation was realized, though the dream proved ever so confused or intricate, the dreamer always succeeded in reconciling it to his circumstances: his own belief and priestly wiles, readily effected the solution. the conceit of dreams, according to the votary's wishes, was so powerfully promoted by the preparatory initiation he had undergone, that it would have been somewhat extraordinary had he been altogether disappointed. he was generally anxious to increase the fame of his divinity by his dream, and possessed a high veneration and deep impression of the miracles which that divinity had wrought. with these predispositions he resorted to the temple, where he had a whole day before him to ponder on his malady, and on every sort of remedy that might have been suggested to him; how natural was it, therefore, for his busy imagination to fix, in his sleep, upon one particular remedy more forcibly than upon another? add to this, the solemn lonely hour of night was the appointed hour for his sleep, which was preceded by prayer and other inspiring ceremonies, that would naturally elevate his devotion to the highest pitch. he had also previously perambulated the temple, and with a full heart surveyed the offerings of those whose sickness had departed from them. if all these preparations were unavailing, the officiants of the temple had still means in reserve, by which the credulous should be thrown into that bodily state which was indispensable to the divinatory sleep: of these, succeeding instances will be hereafter produced. in those days, there were however, some men from whom the somniferous faculty was withheld: they were, therefore, admonished to repeat their prayers and oblations, in order to win the divinity's favour: and the ultimate and customary resort was, if success did not crown his perseverance, to pronounce it a token, that such patients were an eyesore to the divinity. from this divinatory sleep, arose the vulgar expressions in greece [greek: enkoimasdai], and [greek: enkoimaesis][ ] the latin terms are _incubare_ and _incubatio_ an exact translation of the greek words. it appears, therefore, that the romans and greeks were equally acquainted with the institution; though we find but very little mention made of it by the latin writers, yet this is no argument against its prevalence among the romans, as we are left with as scanty accounts of many other superstitions which were in vogue amongst them. it is highly probable that it was not by any means so popular in rome as in greece; and the cause of this may, perhaps, be found in the reflecting disposition and sober character of the haughty roman, to which the light and volatile temperament of the grecian, formed so striking a contrast. that incubation was a ready means of diving into the future, needs no demonstration. although its practice was chiefly resorted to in cases where medical aid was desired, it was still made use of in every other case, in which the ancient oracles were consulted. whether it arose in greece, or migrated thither from the east, is a point with which the ancients have left us unacquainted, though they advert to its prevalence amongst those who were called barbarians. strabo has several instances of it, and particularly mentions a place in the caspian sea, where such an oracle existed;[ ] he also relates, in his celebrated account of moses, that this law-giver laid it down, in common with the priests of esculapius, that to those who led a chaste and virtuous life the deity would vouchsafe prophetical visions in his sanctuary; but to those who were of idle and impure habits, they would be denied.[ ] pomponius mela even mentions a savage nation, in the interior of africa, who laid themselves down to sleep on the grave-stones of their ancestors, and looked upon the dreams they had on those spots as oracles from the dead.[ ] we shall see, hereafter, that this superstition was equally indigenous among the egyptians. although it be doubtful whether the greeks owed this species of divination to their own invention or not, its existence may at least be traced as far as the earliest ages of their history; notwithstanding no positive mention of it has been made either by homer or the authors following him. the oracular power of dreams, and the sanctuaries where they are supposed to be dispersed, have been diffusely treated of in the compilations of van dale and other learned writers. these species of oracles were in high estimation, even in the most enlightened and flourishing periods of greece; it is somewhat singular, however, that no people cherished them more devoutly than the spartans, who depended altogether upon oracles in their weightiest affairs of state. of all the civilized nations of greece, sparta always approved herself the most superstitious; her advancement was rather the effect of her policy, than of any stimulus given to her civilization by science. this consideration will enable us to account for the powerful influence which, even in the latest stages of lacedemonian story, attached to the responses of passiphae, a local goddess of thalame, but little known beyond the confines of laconia. the extent of their influence is particularly evident in the history of agis and cleomenes.[ ] the greater part of these somnambulistic oracles were ascribed to persons who had distinguished themselves as great dreamers when on earth. in old times there was a description of prophets who pretended to prepare themselves for the foreboding of future events through the medium of sacred dreams. they were classed under the appellation of [greek: oneiroploi], to which rank the most celebrated vates of the heroic age belonged. in this way it was that a sacred spot was dedicated to calchus, whence he gave his responses in dreams after his decease: this spot lay in daunia, on the coast of the adriatic. the supplicant's offices began with the offering up of a ram, on whose skin he laid himself down, and in this situation, received the instruction he sought for.[ ] amphilocus, a contemporary soothsayer, who accompanied the epigoni in the first theban war, had a similar oracle at mallos, in cilicia, which pausanias asserts, even at the close of the second century, to have been the most credible of his age; it is also mentioned by dion cassius, in his history of commodus.[ ] the most famous, however, of this class of oracles, was that of amphiaraus, the father of amphilocus, which was one of the five principal oracles of greece; he had signalized himself as a sapient soothsayer in the first theban war; and his oracle was situated at oropos, on the borders of boetia and attica. of all others this deserves our most particular attention, as it was resorted to more frequently in cases of infirmity and disease, than in any other circumstances. his responses were always delivered in dreams, in whose interpretation, as he was the first to possess that faculty. pausanias says he received divine honours. those who repaired to amphiaraus's oracle to supplicate his aid, laid themselves down in the manner we have just related, after several preparatory lustrations and sacrifices, on the skin of a ram slain in honour of the god, and awaited the dreams, which were to unfold the means of their different cures. lustrations and sacrifices were not, however, the only preparatives for inducing the visionary disposition. the priests subjected the patients to various others, which philostratus affirms[ ] to have been very instrumental towards rendering the sleeper's mind clear and unclouded. part of these preparatives consisted in one day's abstinence from eating, and three, nay, even in some cases, fifteen days' abstinence from wine, the common beverage of the greeks. this was the practice also with other oracles; nor were the priests in the meantime insensible to their own interests on these occasions; for those who were cured by amphiaraus's revelations were permitted to bathe in the sacred waters of a fountain, into which they were enjoined to cast pieces of gold and silver, which were destined, most probably, to sweeten the labours of his officiants. the oracles, whose intervention was principally or altogether sought for the healing of the sick by means of divination founded on dreams, were scattered over greece, italy, egypt, and other countries. as regards those of egypt, it may be remarked, that although many of the egyptians believed there were thirty-six demons, or aerial deities, each of whom had the care of a certain portion of the human frame, and when that portion was diseased, would heal it on the patient's earnest prayer, yet a variety of their oracles, such as those of serapis, isis, and phthas, the hephaestos of the greeks, appertained to the class, which is the present object of our inquiry. the oracle serapis was situated near canopus; it was visited with the highest veneration by the wealthiest and most illustrious egyptians, and contained ample records of miraculous cures which that god had performed on sleepers.[ ] isis, it is said, effected similar cures in her lifetime, whence it became her office, in her after state of deification, to reveal in dreams the most efficacious remedies to the sick. indeed the healing powers of this goddess were such, that, as we are told by diodorus,[ ] the remedies she prescribed never failed of their effect, and that convalescents were daily seen returning from her temple, many of whom had been abandoned as incurable by the physicians. the third oracle of the sick was consecrated to phthas, and lay near memphis, but it is seldom mentioned by the ancients.[ ] in italy there existed two oracles, whose responses were imparted in dreams, before the worship of esculapius was introduced from greece. one of them only belongs to this place, that of the physician podalirus, in daunia,[ ] which is mentioned by lycophron.[ ] subsequently it is well known incubation was practised after the grecian form in the roman temple of aesculapius on the insula tiberina.[ ] this description of oracles abounded throughout greece; the most memorable of which was that on the asiatic coast, between trattis and nyssa, which is more particularly described by strabo than any other. not far from the town of nyssa, says he, there is a place called charaka, where we find a grove and temple sacred to pluto and proserpine, and close to the grove a subterraneous cave, of a most extraordinary nature. it is related of it, that diseased persons, who have faith in the remedies predicted by those deities, are accustomed to resort to it and pass some time with experienced priests, who reside near the cave. these priests lay themselves down to sleep in the cave, and afterwards order such medicine as have been revealed to them there, to be furnished to their patients in the temple. they frequently conduct the sick themselves into the cave, where they remain for several days together, without touching a morsel of food; nor are the profane withheld from a participation in the _divinatory_ sleep, though this is not permitted otherwise than under the controul, and with the sacred sanction, of the priests. there is, however, nothing more surprising about this place than that it is esteemed _noxious and fatal to the healthy_.[ ] this last remark of our geographer, proves how jealous the priestly physicians were of their medical monopoly, and how fearful lest the _saner_ part of mankind should detect and expose the pretended virtues of their medical sanctuary. we have hitherto mentioned the name of aesculapius but casually, though there was no god of antiquity more celebrated for curing every species of malady by the incubatory process. he was particularly designated by the greeks as "the sender of dreams," [greek: oneiropompon]; nor could any other deity boast of so great a number of those oracles. the most distinguished of these was the oracle of epidaurus, in the argivian territory; from which spot his worship extended over a great proportion of the old world;--hither, as being the place of his birth and the site of his richest temple, crowds of sick persons constantly repaired in quest of dreams. the success attending them was diligently set forth on every wall of the temple; where the _tabulae votivae_ recorded the names of those who had been healed, the nature of their maladies, and the cure which the god prescribed. similar circumstances are related of his temple at triccae, in thessaly, where esculapius was held in great veneration at a very early period; there appears also to have been another such temple either at or near athens,[ ] where we must look for the scene of the ridiculous cure which aristophanes makes aesculapius to perform on the blind god of riches. though there is undoubtedly a rich vein of the burlesque in the plutus of the grecian dramatist, yet we may gather much concerning our present subject from the scene in which the slave, who had attended plutus in the temple, relates the whole process of his master's wife. here also the night was the chosen period of incubation. before the signal for sleep was given, the officiants of the temple extinguished all the lights in the sick men's chamber; thus involving them in a solemn stillness and obscurity highly favourable to the work in hand, but in a particular manner to the subterfuge of the priests, who enacted the nocturnal apparition of aesculapius to his sick client. this passage in plutus is certainly the earliest circumstantial relation we possess of the practice of this species of incubation.[ ] the license permitted to grecian comedy was such as to authorise the ridicule and contempt of the most popular deities; we are not, therefore to conclude from the scenes that there were many unbelievers, or that this ancient system of cure had sunk into disrepute: for the history of our comedian's great contemporary, hippocrates, informs us, that at this very time the temple of aesculapius at cos abounded in tablets, on which the sick attested the remedies that had been revealed to them during incubation, and that he himself was highly indebted to them for much of his medical knowledge. were it not authenticated by the most undeniable testimonies, it would appear incredible that the impostures of the disciples of aesculapius, and the common faith in his regenerative powers, should have survived with equal potency and acceptation during the ages immediately succeeding the christian era. it must not however, be forgotten, that these were the times also, when an infinity of superstitious of every description disgraced the roman world; although it would have appeared a necessary consequence, that their prevalency should have been checked by the increasing determination of learning and science. if at this period the number of dreaming patients had fallen off at cos and epidaurus, the deficiency was amply compensated by the growing popularity of aesculapius's shrines at rome, pergamus, alaea, mallos, and other places, where the ancient rituals were faithfully preserved. the highest magistrates in the roman states not only countenanced, but patronised the superstition; marcus aurelius, by the friendship with which he honoured the paphlagonian imposter alexander, and caracalla, by the journey he undertook to pergamus, to obtain the cure of a disease which inflicted him. this alexander, the cagliostro of his age, whose memoirs have been handed down to us by lucian, made shift to father a new species of juggling upon the ancient process of incubation: for he pretends that it was necessary for him to sleep for a night in the sealed scrips which contain the queries he was to have resolved for those who visited his oracle.[ ] during this interval he dexterously opened the scrips, and sealed them up again; pretending that the responses which he delivered to the querists in the morning, had been revealed to him by the deity in a dream. the priests of aesculapius possessed a never failing source of information on the recipes or votive tablets with which these temples abounded. these were sometimes engraven on pillars, as at epidaurus; of which pausanias says there were six remaining in his time, and besides these, one in particular removed from the rest, on which it was recorded that hippolytus had sacrificed twenty horses, in return for his having been restored to life by him. five memorials only of this kind have reached the present age. one of them is to be found in the beginning of galen's fifth book de compos, medic.: it is taken from the temple of phthas, near memphis, and is the least interesting of the whole. its subject is the use of the diktamnus, borrowed from heras of cappadocia, a medical writer, frequently quoted by galen. the remaining four are much more important: they were engraven on a marble slab,[ ] of later date at rome, and are thought, with much probability, to have belonged to the aesculapian temple in the insula tiberina. the present translation, in which some errors either of the artist or copyist are rectified, is extracted from the first volume of gruter's corp. inscriptionum. the narrations are perspicuous and laconic. . "in these latter days, a certain blind man, by name caius, had this oracle vouchsafed to him--'that he should draw near to the altar after the manner of one who could see; then walk from right to left, lay the five fingers of his right hand on the altar, then raise up his hand and place it on his eyes.' and behold! the multitude saw the blind man open his eyes, and they rejoiced, such splendid miracles should signalize the reign of our emperor antoninus." . "to lucius, who was so wasted away by pains in his side, that all doubted of his recovery, the god gave this response: 'approach thou the altar; take ashes from it, mix them up with wine and then lay thyself on thy sore side.' and the man recovered, and openly returned thanks to the god amidst the congratulations of the people." . "to julian who spitted blood, and was given over by every one, the god granted this response: 'draw near, take pine apples from off the altar, and eat them with wine for three days. and the man got well, and came and gave thanks in the presence of the people." . "a blind soldier, valerius asper by name, received this answer from the god: that he should mix the blood of a white cock with milk, make an eye ointment therewith, and rub his eyes with it for three days. and lo! the blind recovered his sight, and came, and publicly gave thanks to the god." the success with which the priests of aesculapius carried on their impostures, and the popularity which their dexterous management, no less than the vulgar credulity obtained for them, will cease to surprise us on maturer consideration. it could not be a difficult task for them to give the minds of their patients whatever bias was best adapted to their purposes. these credulous beings passed several days and nights in the temple, and their imagination could not fail to be powerfully impressed with what was diligently told them of the prescriptions and cures of aesculapius; nor to retain during their slumbers many lively impressions of their meditations by day; their priestly nurses too were neither so blind to their own interests, nor so careless of their reputations as to omit the prescribing of such modes of diet and medical remedies as were calculated to appease their patients' sufferings. besides which, however delusive and empirical their outward ceremonials and bold pretensions might have been, we should remember, that priests, having some acquaintance with the science of medicine, were generally selected to officiate on those spots where the incubitary process[ ] was the order of the day. to this acquaintance were added the results of daily experience, and the frequent opportunities which the incessant demands of the infirm upon their skill afforded them of correcting previous errors and improving their practical knowledge: of gradually ascertaining the various kinds and appearances of human disorders; and of digesting such data as would enable them, with the least possible chance of failure, to prescribe the modes of cure and treatment suitable to the various stages and species of the applicant's maladies. with such means, it would have been not a little singular if the priests of aesculapius had failed in converting the popular veneration to his credit and their own emolument. footnotes: [ ] the priestess of apollo, by whom he delivered oracles. she was called pythia from the god himself, who was styled apollo pythius, from his slaying the serpent python. the priestess was to be a pure virgin. she sat on the covercle or lid of a brazen vessel, mounted on a tripod, and thence, after a violent enthusiasm, she delivered his oracles; i.e. she rehearsed a few ambiguous and obscure verses, which were taken for oracles. [ ] these words are but ill explained by the best greek lexicographers. servius ad virg., aen. vii. , says: _incubare dicuntur proprie hic, qui dormiunt accipienda responsa_. tertullian de anima, c. , thence calls them _incubatores fanorum_. [ ] lib. xi. p. . paris, fol. . [ ] ibid. lib. xvi. p. . [ ] de situ orbis, lib. i. cap. . [ ] plutarch apud agis et cleomen. cicero (de div. . c. ) probably alludes to this oracle, when he says, that the ephori of sparta were accustomed to sleep in the temple of pasiphae on state emergencies. there was a similar oracle in the neighbourhood of thalame, not fur from aetylum, sacred to ino. [ ] strabo, lib. vi. p, . [ ] pausanias, , . [ ] de vita apoll. thyan, . . [ ] strabo, lib. xvii. p. . anian. exped. alex, vii. . [ ] in egypt lib. i, . [ ] galen de comp. med. p. gen v. . [ ] podalirius and machaon, the two sons of esculapius. the state of medicine at the time of the trojan war was very imperfect, as we find exemplified by these two acting as surgeons general to the grecian army. their simple practice consisted chiefly in extracting darts or arrows, in staunching blood by some infusion of bitter herbs, and sometimes they added charms or incantations; which seemed to be a poetical way of hinting, that frequently wounds were healed or diseases cured in a manner unaccountable by any known properties they could discover either in the effects of their rude remedies, or in the then known powers of the human body to relieve itself. in homer's description of the wound which ulysses, when young, received in his thigh from the tusk of an enraged wild boar, the infusion of blood was stopped by divine incantations and divine songs, and some sort of bandage which must have acted by pressure. if any virtue could have acted as a charm, the very verse that describes the wound might have as good a right to such a claim as any other; but, in what manner the surgeons of ancient greece, before the discovery of the circulation of the blood, might apply bandages for the purposes here mentioned, is not easily explained; though doubtless these bandages must have acted like a tourniquet, which is now the most effectual remedy for compressing a wounded artery, and thereby stopping an hemorrhage. [ ] alexand. . [ ] suet. claid. c. . [ ] strabo. lib. xiii. pausan. lib. ii. [ ] scholia ad plut. v. [ ] aristoph, plut act. ii, sc. , and iii. sc . [ ] luciani, oper. t. ii. ed reitzii. [ ] it is often called by antiquaries _tabella marmorea apud maffaeos_, as it was first preserved in the collection. [ ] it is somewhat singular, that cicero's treatise on divination, as well as the works of hippocrates and galen, should be so destitute of information on the subject of a mode of cure which was of such long standing, and so universally esteemed. from the two last, one should at least have expected something more satisfactory: cos being the birthplace of the one, and pergamus of the other. chapter xii. on amulets, charms, talismans--philters, their origin and imaginary efficacy, etc. amulets are certain substances worn about the neck or other parts of the body, under the superstitious impression of preventing diseases, of curing, or removing them. the origin of amulets may be traced to the most remote ages of mankind. in our researches to discover and fix the period when remedies were first employed for the alleviation of bodily suffering, we are soon lost in conjecture or involved in fable. we are unable, indeed, to reach the period in any country, when the inhabitants were destitute of medical resources, and even among the most uncultivated tribes we find medicine cherished as a blessing and practised as an art. the feelings of the sufferer, and the anxiety of those about him, must, in the rudest state of society, have incited a spirit of industry and research to procure ease, the modification of heat and cold, of moisture and dryness; and the regulation and change of diet and habit, must intuitively have suggested themselves for the relief of pain; and when these resources failed, charms, amulets, and incantations, were the natural expedients of the barbarians, ever more inclined to indulge the delusive hope of superstition than to listen to the voice of sober reason. traces of amulets may be discovered in very early history, though dr. warburton is evidently in error when he fixes the origin of these magical instruments to the age of the ptolomies, which was not more than three hundred years before christ. this assertion is refuted by galen, who informs us the egyptian king nechepsus, who lived years before christ, had written, that a green jasper cut into the form of a dragon surrounded with rays, if applied externally, would strengthen the stomach and organs of digestion. this opinion, moreover, is supported by scripture: for what were the earrings which jacob buried under the oak of sechem, as related in genesis, but amulets. and josephus in his antiquities of the jews,[ ] informs us that solomon discovered a plant efficacious in the cure of epilepsy, and that he employed the aid of a charm, for the purposes of assisting its virtues. the root of the herb was concealed in a ring, which was applied to the nostrils of the demoniac; and josephus remarks that he saw himself a jewish priest practise the art of solomon with complete success in the presence of the emperor vespasian, his sons and the tribunes of the roman army. from this art of solomon, exhibited through the medium of a ring or seal, we have the eastern stories which celebrate the seal of solomon, and record the potency of his sway over the various orders of demons or of genii, who were supposed to be the invincible tormentors or benefactors of the human race. nor were such means confined to dark and barbarous ages. theophrastus pronounced pericles to be insane in consequence of seeing him with an amulet suspended from his neck. and in the declining era of the roman empire, we find this superstitious custom so general that the emperor caracalla was induced to make a public edict, ordering, that no man should wear any superstitious amulets about his person. all remedies working as it were sympathetically, and plainly unequal to the effect, may be termed amulets; whether used at a distance by another person, or carried immediately about the patient. by the jews, amulets were called _kamea_, and by the greeks _phylacteries_. the latins called them _amuleta_ or _ligatura_; the catholics _agnus dei_, or consecrated relics; and the natives of guinea _fetishes_. various kinds of substances are employed by different people, and which they venerate and suppose capable of preserving them from danger and infection, as well as to remove disease when present. plutarch says of pericles, an athenian general, that when a friend come to see him, and inquired after his health he reached out his hand and shewed him his amulet; by which he meant to intimate the truth of his illness, and, at the same time, the confidence he placed in these popular remedies. amulets are still prevalent in catholic countries at the present day; the spaniards and portuguese maintain their popularity. among the jews they are equally venerated. indeed, there are few instances of ancient superstition some portion of which has not been preserved, and not unfrequently have they been adopted by men of otherwise good understanding, who plead in excuse, that they are innoxious, cost little, and if they can do no good, they can do no harm. lord bacon, whom no one can suspect of ignorance, says, that if a man wear a bone ring or a planet seal, strongly believing, by that means, that he might obtain his mistress, and that it would preserve him unhurt at sea, or in a battle, it would probably make him more active and less timid; as the audacity they might inspire would conquer and bind weaker minds in the execution of a peculiar duty. amulets used by the common people. a variety of things are worn about the person by the common people for the cure of ague; and, upon whatever principle it may be accounted for, whether by the imagination or a natural termination of the disease, many have apparently been cured by them, where the peruvian bark, the boasted specific, had previously failed. dr. willis says that charms resisting agues have often been applied to the wrist with success. abracadabra, written in a peculiar manner, that is, in the form of a cone, it is said, has cured the ague; the herb lunaria, gathered by moon-light, has, on some high authorities, performed surprising cures. perhaps it was gathered during the invocating influence of the following charm, which may be found in the th book, chap. xiv. p. of "scot's discovery of witchcraft," which is headed thus:-- "_another charme that witches use at the gathering of their medicinal herbs._" haile be thou holy herbe, growing in the ground. and in the mount calvaire first wert thou found. thou art good for many a sore, and healest many a wound, in the name of sweet jesus i take thee from the ground. we are told that naaman was cured by dipping seven times in the river jordan. certain formalities were also performed at the pool of bethesda. dr. chamberlayne's anodyne necklaces, were, for a length of time, objects of the most anxious maternal solicitude, until their occult virtues became lost by the reverence for them being destroyed; and those which succeeded them have long since run their race or nearly so. the grey limewort was at one time supposed to have been a specific in hydrophobia--that it not only cured those labouring under this disorder, but by carrying it about the person, it was reputed to possess the extraordinary power of preventing mad dogs from biting them. calvert paid devotions to st. hubert for the recovery of his son, who was cured by this means. the son also performed the necessary rites at the shrine, and was cured not only of the hydrophobia "but of the worser phrensy with which his father had instilled him." cramp-rings were also used; and eelskins to this day are tied round the legs as a preventive of this spasmodic affection; and by laying sticks across the floor, on going to bed, cramp has also been prevented. numerous are the charms and incantations used at the present day for the removal of warts, many cases of which are not a little surprising. and we are told by lord verulam, who is allowed to have been as great a genius as this country ever produced, that, when he was at paris, he had above a hundred warts on his hands; and that the english ambassador's lady, then at court, and a woman far above superstition, removed them all by only rubbing them with the fat side of the rind of a piece of bacon, which they afterwards nailed to a post, with the fat side towards the south. in five weeks, says my lord, they were all removed. the following are his lordship's observations, in his own words, relative to the power of amulets. after deep metaphysical observations on nature, and arguing in mitigation of sorcery, witchcraft, and divination, effects that far outstrip the belief in amulets, he observes "we should not reject all of this kind, because it is not known how far those contributing to superstition, depend on natural causes. charms have not the power from contract with evil spirits, but proceed wholly from strengthening the imagination: in the same manner that images and their influence, have prevailed on religion, being called from a different way of use and application, sigils, incantations, and spells." eccentricities, caprices, and effects, of the imagination. a certain writer, apologizing for the irregularities of great genii, delivers himself as follows: "the gifts of imagination bring the heaviest task upon, the vigilance of reason; and to bear those faculties with unerring rectitude or invariable propriety, requires a degree of firmness and of cool attention, which does not always attend the higher gifts of the mind. yet, difficult as nature herself seems to have reduced the task of regularity to genius, it is the supreme consolation of dullness, to seize upon those excesses, which are the overflowings of faculties they never enjoyed."[ ] are not the _gifts of imagination_ mistaken here for the strength of passions? doubtless, where strong passions accompany great parts, as perhaps they often do, the imagination may encrease their force and activity: but, where passions are calm and gentle, imagination of itself should seem to have no conflict but speculatively with reason. there, indeed, it wages an eternal war; and, if not contracted and strictly regulated, it will carry the patient into endless extravagancies. the term patient is here properly used, because men, under the influence of imagination, are most truly distempered. the degree of this distemper will be in proportion to the prevalence of imagination over reason, and, according to this proportion, amount to more or less of the whimsical; but when reason shall become, as it were, extinct, and imagination govern alone, then the distemper will be madness under the wildest and most fantastic modes. thus, one of those invalids, perhaps, shall be all sorrow for having been most unjustly deprived of the crown; though his vocation, poor man! be that of a school-master. another, like horace's madman, is all joy; and it may seem even cruelty to cure him. the operations and caprices of the imagination are various and endless; and, as they cannot be reduced to regularity or system, so it is highly improbable that any certain method of cure should ever be found out for them. it has generally been thought, that matter of fact might most successfully be opposed to the delusions of imagination, as being proof to the senses, and carrying conviction unavoidably to the understanding; but we rather suspect, that the understanding or reasoning faculty, has little to do in all these cases: at least so it should seem from the two following facts, which are by no means badly attested. fienus, in his curious little book, _de viribus imaginationis_, records from donatus the case of a man, who fancied his body encreased to such a size, that he durst not attempt to pass through the door of his chamber. the physician believing that nothing could more effectually cure this error of imagination, than to shew that the thing could actually be done, caused the patient to be thrust forcibly through it: who, struck with horror, and falling suddenly into agonies, complained of being crushed to pieces, and expired soon after.[ ] the other case, as related by van swieten, in his commentaries upon boerhaave, is that of a learned man, who had studied, till be fancied his legs to be of glass: in consequence of which he durst not attempt to stir, but was constantly under anxiety about them. his maid bringing one day some wood to the fire, threw it carelessly down; and was severely reprimanded by her master, who was terrified not a little for his legs of glass. the surly wench, out of all patience with his megrims, as she called them, gave him a blow with a log upon the parts affected; which so enraged him, that he instantly rose up, and from that moment recovered the use of his legs.--was reason concerned any more here; or was it not rather one blind impulse acting against another? imagination has, unquestionably, a most powerful effect upon the mind, and in all these miraculous cures, is by far the strongest ingredient. dr. strother says, "the influence of the mind and passions works upon the mind and body in sensible operations like a medicine, and is of far the greater force than exercise. the countenance betrays a good or wicked intention; and that good or wicked intention will produce in different persons a strength to encounter, or a weakness to yield to the preponderating side." dr. brown says, "our looks discover our passions, there being mystically in our faces certain characters, which carry in them the motto of our souls, and, therefore, probably work secret effects in other parts." this idea is beautifully illustrated by garth in his dispensatory, in the following lines:-- "thus paler looks impetuous rage proclaim, and chilly virgins redden into flame. see envy oft transformed in wan disguise, and mirth sits gay and smiling in the eyes, oft our complexions do the soul declare, and tell what passions in the features are. hence 'tis we look the wond'rous cause to find, how body acts upon impassive mind." on the power and pleasure of the imagination, from the pleasures and pains it administers here below, addison concludes that god, who knows all the ways of afflicting us, may so transport us hereafter with such beautiful and glorious visions, or torment us with such hideous and ghastly spectres, as might even of themselves suffice to make up the entire heaven or hell of any future being. doctrine of effluvia--miraculous cures by means of charms, amulets, etc. dr. willis, in his treatise on nervous disorders, does not hesitate to recommend amulets in epileptic disorders. "take," says he, "some fresh peony roots, cut them into square bits, and hang them round the neck, changing them as often as they dry." it is not improbable that the hint was taken from this circumstance for the anodyne necklaces, which, some time ago, were in such repute, as the doctor, some little way further on, prescribes the same root for the looseness, fevers, and convulsions of children, during the time of teething, mixed, to make it appear more miraculous, with some elk's hoof. st. vitus's dance is said to have been cured by the afflicted person paying a visit to the tomb of the saint, near ulm, every may. indeed, there is no little reason in this assertion; for exercise and change of air will change many obstinate diseases. the bite of the tarantula is cured by music; and this only by certain tunes. turner, whose ideas are so extravagantly absurd, where he asserts, that the symptoms of hydrophobia may not appear for forty years after the bite of the dog, and who maintains that "the slaver or breath of such a dog is infectious;" and that men bitten by mad dogs, will bite like dogs again, and die mad; although he laughs at the anodyne necklaces, argues much in the same manner. it is not, indeed, so very strange that the effluvia from external medicines entering our bodies, should effect such considerable changes, when we see the efficient cause of apoplexy, epilepsy, hysterics, plague, and a number of other disorders, consists, as it were, in imperceptible vapours.--blood-stone (lapis aetites) fastened to the arm by some secret means, is said to prevent abortion. sydenham, in the iliac passion, orders a live kitten to be constantly applied to the abdomen; others have used pigeons split alive, applied to the soles of the feet, with success, in pestilential fevers and convulsions. it was doubtless the impression that relief might be obtained by external agents, that the court of king david advised him to seek a young virgin, in order that a portion of the natural heat might be communicated to his body, and give strength to the decay of nature. "take the heart and liver of the fish and make a smoke, and the devil shall smell it and flee away." during the plague at marseilles, which belort attributed to the larvae of worms infecting the saliva, food, and chyle; and which, he says, "were hatched by the stomach, took their passage into the blood, at a certain size, hindering the circulation, affecting the juices and solid parts." he advised amulets of mercury to be worn in bags suspended at the chest and nostrils, either as a safeguard, or as means of cure; by which method, through the _admissiveness_ of the pores, effluvia specially destructive of all venomous insects, were received into the blood. "an illustrious prince," belort says, "by wearing such an amulet, escaped the small-pox." clognini, an italian physician, ordered two or three drachms of crude mercury to be worn as a defensive against the jaundice; and also as a preservative against the noxious vapours of inclement seasons: "it breaks," he observes, "and conquers the different figured seeds of pestilential distempers floating in the air; or else, mixing with the air, kills them where hatched." by others, the power of mercury, in these cases, has been ascribed to an elective faculty given out by the warmth of the body, which draws out the contagious particles. for, according to this entertained notion, all bodies are continually emitting effluvia, more or less, around them, and some whether they are internal or external. the bath waters, for instance, change the colour of silver in the pocket of those who use them. mercury produces the same effect; tartar emetic, rubbed on the pit of the stomach, produces vomiting. yawning and laughing are infectious; so are fear and shame. the sight of sour things, or even the idea of them, will set the teeth on edge. small-pox, itch, and other diseases, are contagious; if so, say they, mercurial amulets bid fair to destroy the germ of some complaints when used only as an external application, either by manual attrition, or worn as an amulet. but medicated or not, all amulets are precarious and uncertain, and in the cure of diseases are, by no means, to be trusted to. the barbary moors, and generally throughout the mahommedan dominions, the people are strikingly attached to charms, to which, and nature, they leave the cure of almost every disorder; and this is the most strongly impressed upon them from their belief in predestination, which, according to their creed, stipulates the evil a man is to suffer, as well as the length of time it is ordained he should live upon the land of his forefathers; consequently they imagine that any interference from secondary means would avail them nothing, an opinion said to have been entertained by william iii, but one by no means calculated for nations, liberty, and commerce; upon the principle that when the one was entrenched upon, men would probably be more sudden in their revenge, and dislike physic and occupation; and when actuated with religious enthusiasm, nothing could stand them in any service. the opinion of an old navy surgeon,[ ] on the subject, is worth recording here. "a long and intense passion on one object, whether of pride, love, fear, anger, or envy, we see have brought on some universal tremors; on others, convulsions, madness, melancholy, consumption, hectics, or such a chronical disorder as has wasted their flesh, or their strength, as certainly as the taking in of any poisonous drugs would have done. anything frightful, sudden, or surprising, upon soft, timorous natures, not only shews itself in the continuance, but produces sometimes very troublesome consequences--for instance, a parliamentary fright will make even grown men _bewray_ themselves, scare them out of their wits, turn the hair grey. surprise removes the hooping cough; looking from precipices or seeing wheels turn swiftly will give giddiness. shall then these little accidents, or the passions, (from caprice or humour, perhaps,) produce those effects, and not be able to do anything by amulets? no; as the spirits, in many cases, resort in plenty, we find where the fancy determines, giving joy and gladness to the heart, strength and fleetness to the limbs, and violent palpitations. to amulets, under strong imagination, is carried with more force to a distempered part, and, under these circumstances, its natural powers exert better to a discussion. "the cures compassed in this manner," says our author, "are not more admirable than many of the distempers themselves. who can apprehend by what impenetrable method the bite of a mad dog, or tarantula, can produce these symptoms? the touch of a torpedo numbness? if they are allowed to do these, doubtless they may the other; and not by miracles, which spinoza denies the possibility of, but by natural and regular causes, though inscrutable to us. the best way, therefore, in using amulets, must be in squaring them to the imagination of patients: let the newness and surprise exceed the invention, and keep up the humour by a long scroll of cures and vouchers; by these and such means, many distempers have been cured. quacks again, according to their boldness and way of addressing (velvet and infallibility particularly) command success by striking the fancies of an audience. if a few, more sensible than the rest, see the doctor's miscarriages, and are not easily gulled at first sight, yet, when they see a man is never ashamed, in time, jump in to his assistance." there is much truth and pertinence in some of the above remarks, and they apply nearly to the general practice of the present day. the farces and whims of people require often as much discrimination on the part of the physician as the disease itself. those who know best how to flatter such caprices, are frequently the best paid for their trouble. nervous diseases are always in season, and it is here that some professional dexterity is pardonable. nature, when uninterrupted, will often do more than art; but our inability upon all occasions to appreciate the efforts of nature in the cure of diseases, must always render our notion, with respect to the powers faith, liable to numerous errors and deceptions. there is, in fact, nothing more natural, and at the same time more erroneous, than to lay the cure of a disease to the door of the last medicine that had been prescribed. by these means the advocates of amulets and charms, have ever been enabled to appeal to the testimony of what they are pleased to call experience in justification of their pretensions, and egregious superstitions; and cases which, in truth, ought to have been classed, or rather designated, as lucky escapes, have been triumphantly pulled off as skilful cures; and thus, medicines and medical practitioners, have alike received the meed of unmerited praise, or the stigma of unjust censure. of all branches of human science, medicine is one of the most interesting to mankind: and, accordingly as it is erroneously or judiciously cultivated, is evidently conducive to the prejudice or welfare of the public. of how great consequence is it, then, that our endeavours should be exerted in stemming the propagation of errors, whether arising from ignorance, or prompted by motives of base cupidity, in giving assistance to the disseminations of useful truths, and to the perfection of ingenious discoveries. footnotes: [ ] lib. viii. chap. . . [ ] langhorne's life of mr. collins [ ] reverii praxis medica, p. . [ ] john ailkin, author of the navy surgeon, . sec demonologia, p. et seg. chapter xiii. on talismans--some curious, natural ones, etc. the egyptian amulets are not so ancient as the babylonian talismans, but in their uses they were exactly similar. some little figures, supposed to have been intended as charms, have been found on several mummies, which, at various times, have been brought to europe. plutarch informs us that the soldiers wore rings, on which the representation of an insect resembling our beetle, was inscribed; and we learn from aelian, that the judges had always suspended round their necks a small figure of truth formed of emeralds. the superstitious belief in the virtues of talismans is yet far from being extinct, the copths, the arabians, the syrians, and, indeed, almost all the inhabitants of asia, west of the ganges, whether christians or mahometans, still use them against possible evils. there is little distinction between talismans, amulets and the gree-grees of the africans as regards their pretended efficacy; though there is some in their external configuration. magical figures, engraven or cut under superstitious observances of the characterisms and configurations of the heavens, are called talismans; to which astrologers, hermetical philosophers, and other adepts, attribute wonderful virtues, particularly that of calling down celestial influences.[ ] the talismans of the samothracians, so famous of old, were pieces of iron formed into certain images, and set in rings. they were reputed as preservatives against all kinds of evils. there were other talismans taken from vegetables, and others from minerals. three kinds of talismans were usually distinguished st. the _astronomical_ known by the signs or constellations of the heavens engraven upon them, with other figures, and some unintelligible characters; nd. the _magical_, bearing very extraordinary figures, with superstitious words and names of angels unheard of; rd. the _mixt_ talismans, which consist of signs and barbarous words; but without any superstitious ones, or names of angels. it has been asserted and maintained by some rabins, that the brazen serpent raised by moses in the wilderness, for the destruction of the serpents that annoyed the israelites, was properly a talisman. all the miraculous things wrought by apollonius tyanaeus are attributed to the virtue and influence of _talismans_; and that wizard, as he is called, is even said to be the inventor of them. some authors take several runic medals,--medals, at least, whose inscriptions are in the runic characters,--for talismans, it being notorious that the northern nations, in their heathen state, were much devoted to them, m. keder, however has shown, that the medals here spoken of are quite other things than talismans. it appears from the evangelists[ ] that, when st. paul, after he had been shipwrecked, and escaped to the island of malta, a viper fastened on his hand as he was laying a bundle of sticks, he had gathered, on the fire; and that, by a miracle, and to the great astonishment of the spectators, inhabitants of the island, he not only suffered no harm, but also cured, by the divine power, the chief of the island, and a great number of others, of very dangerous maladies. there remain still in that island, as so many trophies gained by the apostle over that venemous beast, a great many small stones representing the eyes and tongues of serpents, and considered for several centuries past, as powerful amulets against different sorts of distempers and poisons. as the virtue of these stones is still much boasted of by the maltese, and as some, on the contrary, maintain that they are the petrified teeth of a fish called lamia, it will not be irrelevant here to relate some observations from the best authors on this interesting subject, so much to our purpose. it is said that those eyes and tongues of serpents are only found by the maltese when they dig into the earth, which is whitish throughout the island, or draw up stone, especially about the cave of st. paul. this stone is so soft, that, like clay, it may be cut through with any sharp instrument, and made to receive easily different figures, for building the walls of their houses and ramparts; but, when it has been imbibed with a sufficient quantity of rain or well water, it changes into a flint that resists the cutting of the sharpest instrument: whence the houses that are built of it in the two cities, appear as hewn out of one solid rock, and become harder, the more they are exposed to the inclemencies of the weather. this hardness may, with good reason, be ascribed to the salt of nitre, which contracts a certain viscidity from the rain wherewith it is mixed, and which easily penetrates into these stones, because their substance is spongy and cretaceous, and adheres to the tongue as hartshorn. it is in these stones that not only the eyes and tongues of serpents are found, but also their viscera and other parts: as lungs, liver, heart, spleen, ribs, and so resembling life, and with such natural colours, that one may well doubt whether they are the work of nature or art; the figure of the eyes and tongues is very different. some are elliptic, but, for the greater part round: some represent an hemisphere, others a segment, others an hyperbola. the glossopetrae are naturally of a conic figure, representing acute, obtuse, regular, and irregular cones. they are also of different colours, especially the eyes; for some of them are of an ash-colour, others liver colour, some brown, others blackish; but these, as most rare, are most esteemed. bracelets are frequently made of them and set in gold: some representing an entire eye with a white pupil, and these are the most beautiful. several are likewise found of an orange colour. the virtues attributed by the maltese to those eyes and tongues, and to the white earth which is found in the island, particularly in st. paul's cave, and which is kept for use by the apothecaries, as the american bole, are very singular; for they reckon them not only a preservative against all sorts of poison, and an efficacious remedy for those who have taken poison, but also good in a number of diseases. they are taken internally, infused in water, wine, or in any other convenient liquor; or let to lie for some hours in vessels made of the white earth; or the white earth is taken itself dissolved in those liquors. the eyes set as precious stones in rings, and so as to touch immediately the flesh, are worn by the inhabitants on the fingers; but the tongues are fastened about the arm, or suspended from the neck. paul bucconi, a sicilian nobleman, treated this notion of the eyes and tongues of serpents as a mere vulgar error; and maintains that they either constitute a particular species of stone produced in the earth, or in the stones of the island of malta, as in their matrix; or that they are nothing more than the petrified teeth of some marine fish; which is also the opinion of fabius columna, nicholas steno and other physicians and anatomists. it seems to this noble author that the glossopetrae should be classed in the animal kingdom, because, being burnt, they are changed into cinders as bones, before they are reduced into a calx or ashes, whilst calcined stones are immediately reduced into a calx. he further says, that the roots of the glossopetrae are often found broken in different ways, which is an evident argument that they have not been produced by nature, in the place they are digged out of, because nature forms other fossils, figured entirely in their matrix, without any hurt or mutilation. add to this, that the substance is different in different parts of the glossopetrae; solid at the point, less solid at the root, compact at the surface, porous and fibrous in the interior: besides, the polished surface, contrary to the custom of nature, which forms no stone, whether common or precious, is polished; and, lastly, the figure that varies different ways, as well as the size, being found great, broad, triangular, narrow, small, very small, pyramidal, straight, curved before, behind, to the right and to the left, in form of a saw with small teeth, furnished with great jags or notches, and frequently absolutely pyramidal without notches; all these particulars favour his opinion. but, as he thence believes he has proved that the glossopetrae should not be classed amongst stones, so also what he has said may prove that they are the natural teeth of those fishes, which are called, by lithographers, lamia, aquila, requiem, (shark) etc. and therefore there scarce remains any reason for a further doubt on this head. there are representations of curiosities, which we shall give an account of from the ephemerides of the curious. it is customary to see at batavia, in the island of java, the figure of serpents impressed on the shells of eggs, andrew cleyerus, a naturalist of considerable note, says, that when he was at batavia in , he had seen himself, on the th of september, an egg newly laid by a hen, of the ordinary size, but representing very exactly, towards the summit of the other part of the shell, the figure of a serpent and all its parts, not only the lineaments of the serpent were marked on the surface, but the three dimensions of the body were as sensible as if they had been engraved by an able sculptor, or impressed on wax, plaister or some other like matter. one could see very plainly the head, ears, and a cloven tongue starting out of the throat; the eyes were sparkling and resplendent, and represented so perfectly the interior and exterior of the parts of the eye, with their natural colours, that they seemed to behold with astonishment the eyes even of the spectators. to account for this phenomenon, it may be supposed that, the hen being near laying, a serpent presented itself to her sight, and that her imagination, struck thereby, impressed the figure of the serpent on the egg that was ready to press out of the ovarium. an egg equally wonderful, was laid by a hen at rome on the th. of december, . the famous comet that appeared then on the head of andromeda, with other stars, were seen represented on its shell. sebastian scheffer says, that he had seen an egg with the representation of an eclipse on it. signor magliabecchi, in his letter to the academy of the curious, on the th. of october , has these words; "last month i had sent me from rome, a drawing of an egg found at tivoli, with the impression of the sun and the transparent comet with a twisted tail." there are also representations of indian nuts, or small cocos, with the head of an ape. the nut has been exactly engraved in the ephemerides of the curious, both as to size and form, and covered with its shell, as expressed there by cyphers and other figures which represent the same nut stripped of its covering, and exhibiting the head of an ape. this nut seems pretty much like the foreign fruit described by clusius, exoticorum lib. a, which john bauhin (hist. plant. universal lib. ) retaining the description of clusius, calls, "a nut resembling the areca," and which c. bauhin (pinac. lib. ii, sect. ) calls, the fruit of the fourteenth of palm-tree, that bears nuts, or a foreign fruit of the same sort as the areca. this fruit with its shell, is, as clusius says, an inch and a half in length, but is somewhat more than an inch thick. its shell or membraneous covering, is about the thickness of the blade of a knife, and outwardly of an ash colour mixed with brown. clusius was in the right to say, that the shell of this nut was formed of several fibrous parts, but those fibres resemble rather those of the shell of a coco, than the fibrous parts of the back of the areca nut. he, moreover, has very properly observed, that this shell is armed, at its lower part, with a double calyx and that the opposite part terminates in a point; but it is necessary to observe, that this point is not formed by the prolongation of the shell, as the figure he has given of it seems to specify; but that from the middle of the upper part of the fruit, there juts out a sort of small needle. the shell being taken off, the nut is found to be hard, ligneous, oblong, of unequal surface, furrowed, and of a chesnut yellow. one of its extremities is roundish, and the other, by the reunion and prolongation of three sorts of tubercles, terminates in a point; those protuberances being so formed, that the middlemost placed between the two others, has the appearance of a nose, and the two lateral protuberances resemble flat lips. on each side of that which forms what we call the nose, a small hole or nook is perceived, capable of containing a pea; but does not penetrate deep, and is surrounded with black filaments, sometimes like eye-brows and eyelashes, so that the nut on that side resembles an ape or a hare. this _lusus naturae_, or sport of nature, has a very pretty effect, but is oftener found in stones than other substances. a great variety of such rare and singular productions of nature may be seen at the british museum: but nothing can be more extraordinary in this respect than what is related concerning the agate of pyrrhus, which represented, naturally, apollo holding a lyre, with the nine muses distinguished each by their attributes. in all probability, there is great exaggeration in this fact, for we see nothing of the kind that comes near this perfection. however, it is said, that, at pisa, in the church of st. john, there is seen, on a stone, an old hermit perfectly painted by nature, sitting near a rivulet, and holding a bell in his hand; and that, in the temple of st. sophia, at constantinople, there is to be seen, on a white sacred marble, an image of st. john the baptist, cloaked with a camel's skin, but so far defective that nature has given him but one foot. there is an instance in the mercury of france, for july , of some curious sports of nature on insects. the rector of st. james at land, within a league of rennes, found in the month of march, , in the church-yard, a species of butterfly, about two inches long, and half-an-inch broad, having on its head the figure of a death's-head, of the length of one nail, and perfectly imitating those that are represented on the church ornaments which are used for the office of the dead. two large wings were spotted like a pall, and the whole body covered with a down, or black hair, diversified with black and yellow, bearing some resemblance to yellow. these freaks of nature are equally extended to animate as to inanimate bodies; and the human species, as well as the brute creation, affords numerous specimens, not only of redundance and deficiency in her work, but a variety of other phenomena not well understood. the march of intellect, however, it is to be hoped, will be as successful in this instance, as in obliterating the hobgoblins of astrologers and quacks who so long have ruled the destiny and health of their less sagacious fellow-creatures;--and when the public shall become persuaded of the advantages which science may derive from occurrences similar to those we shall enumerate in the next chapter, it will be more disposed to offer them to the consideration of scientific men. footnotes: [ ] the author of a book, entitled "_talismans justifiés_" pronounces a talisman to be the seal, figure, character, or image of a heavenly sign, constellation or planet, engraven on a sympathetic stone, or on a metal corresponding to the star, etc. in order to receive its influences. [ ] acts of the apostles, chap. xxviii. v. . chapter xiv. on the medicinal powers attributed to music by the ancients. the power of music over the human mind, as well as its influence on the animal creation, has been variously attested; and its curative virtues have been no less extolled by the ancients.[ ] martianus capella assures us, that fevers were removed by songs, and that asclepiades cured deafness by the sound of the trumpet. wonderful indeed! that the same noise which would occasion deafness in some, should be a specific for it in others! it is making the viper cure its own bite. but, perhaps asclepiades was the inventor of the _acousticon_, or ear-trumpet, which has been thought a modern discovery; or of the speaking-trumpet, which is a kind of cure for distant deafness. these would be admirable proofs of musical power![ ] we have the testimony of plutarch, and several other ancient writers, that thaletas the cretan, delivered the lacedemonians from the pestilence by the sweetness of his lyre. xenocrates, as martianus capella further informs us, employed the sound of instruments in the cure of maniacs; and apollonius dyscolus, in his fabulous history (historia commentitia) tells us, from theophrastus's treatise upon enthusiasm, that music is a sovereign remedy for a dejection of spirits, and disordered mind; and that the sound of the flute will cure epilepsy and the sciatic gout. athenaeus quotes the same passage from theophrastus, with this additional circumstance, that, as to the second of these disorders, to render the cure more certain, the flute should play in the phrygian mode. but aulus gellius, who mentions this remedy, seems to administer it in a very different manner, by prescribing to the flute-player a soft and gentle strain, _si modulis lenibus_ says he, _tibicen incinet_: for the phrygian mode was remarkably vehement and furious. this is what coelius aurelianus calls _loca dolentia decantare_, enchanting the disordered places. he even tells us how the enchantment is brought about upon these occasions, in saying that the pain is relieved by causing a vibration of the fibres of the afflicted part. galen speaks seriously of playing the flute on the suffering part, upon the principle, we suppose, of a medicated vapour bath. the sound of the flute was likewise a specific for the bite of a viper, according to theophrastus and democritus, whose authority aulus gellius gives for his belief of the fact. but there is nothing more extraordinary among the virtues attributed to music by the ancients, than what aristotle relates in its supposed power of softening the rigour of punishment. the tyrhenians, says he, never scourge their slaves, but by the sound of flutes, looking upon it as an instance of humanity to give some counterpoise to pain, and thinking by such a diversion to lessen the sum total of the punishment. to this account may be added a passage from jul. pallus, by which we learn, that in the _triremes_, or vessels with three banks of oars, there was always a _tibicen_, or flute-player, not only to mark the time, or cadence for each stroke of the oar, but to sooth and cheer the rowers by the sweetness of the melody. and from this custom quintilian took occasion to say, that music is the gift of nature, to enable us the more patiently to support toil and labour.[ ] these are the principal passages which antiquity furnishes, relative to the medicinal effects of music; in considering which, reliance is placed on the judgment of m. burette, whose opinions will come with the more weight, as he had not only long made the music of the ancients his particular study, but was a physician by profession. this writer, in a dissertation on the subject, has examined and discussed many of the stories above related, concerning the effects of music in the cure of diseases. he allows it to be possible, and even probable, that music, by reiterated strokes and vibrations given to the nerves, fibres, and animal spirits, may be of use in the cure of certain diseases; yet he by no means supposes that the music of the ancients possessed this power in a greater degree than the modern music, but rather that a very coarse and vulgar music is as likely to operate effectually on such occasions as the most refined and perfect. the savages of america pretend to perform these cures by the music and jargon of their imperfect instruments; and in apulia, where the bite of the tarantula is pretended to be cured by music, which excites a desire to dance, it is by an ordinary tune, very coarsely performed.[ ] baglivi refines on the doctrine of effluvia, by ascribing his cures of the bite of the tarantula to the peculiar undulation any instrument or tune makes by its strokes in the air; which, vibrating upon the external parts of the patient, is communicated to the whole nervous system, and produces that happy alteration in the solids and fluids which so effectually contributes to the cure. the contraction of the solids, he says, impresses new mathematical motions and directions to the fluids; in one or both of which is seated all distempers, and without any other help than a continuance of faith, will alter their quality; a philosophy as wonderful and intricate as the nature of the poison it is intended to expel; but which, however, supplies this observation, that, if the particles of sound can do so much, the effluvia of amulets may do more. credulity must be very strong in those who believe it possible for music to drive away the pestilence. antiquity, however, as mentioned above, relates that thaletas, a famous lyric poet, contemporary with solon, was gifted with this power; but it is impossible to render the fact credible, without qualifying it by several circumstances omitted in the relation. in the first place, it is certain, that this poet was received among the lacedemonians during the plague, by command of an oracle: that by virtue of this mission, all the poetry of the hymns which he sung, must have consisted of prayers and supplications, in order to avert the anger of the gods against the people, whom he exhorted to sacrifices, expiations, purifications, and many other acts of devotion, which, however superstitious, could not fail to agitate the minds of the multitude, and to produce nearly the same effects as public fasts, and, in catholic countries, processions, as at present, in times of danger, by exalting the courage, and by animating hope. the disease having, probably, reached its highest pitch of malignity when the musician arrived, must afterwards have become less contagious by degrees; till, at length, ceasing of itself, by the air wafting away the seeds of infection, and recovering its former purity, the extirpation of the disease was attributed by the people to the music of thaletas, who had been thought the sole mediator, to whom they owed their happy deliverance. this is exactly what plutarch means, who tells the story; and what homer meant, in attributing the curation of the plague among the greeks, at the siege of troy, to music: with hymns divine the joyous banquet ends, the poeans lengthen'd till the sun descends: the greeks restor'd, the grateful notes prolong; apollo listens and approves the song.[ ] for the poet in these lines seems only to say, that apollo was rendered favourable, and had delivered the greeks from the scourge with which they were attacked, in consequence of chriseis having been restored to her father, and of sacrifices and offerings. m. burette thinks it easy to conceive, that music may be really efficacious in relieving, if not in removing, the pains of sciatica; and that independent of the greater or less skill of the musician. he supposes this may be effected in two different ways: first, by flattering the ear, and diverting the attention; and, secondly, by occasioning oscillations and vibrations of the nerves, which may, perhaps, give motions to the humours, and remove the obstructions which occasion this disorder. in this manner the action of musical sounds upon the fibres of the brain and animal spirits, may sometimes soften and alleviate the sufferings of epileptics and lunatics, and calm even the most violent fits of these two cruel disorders. and if antiquity affords examples of this power, we can oppose to them some of the same kind said to have been effected by music, not of the most exquisite sort. for not only m. burette, but many modern philosophers, physicians, and anatomists, as well as ancient poets and historians, have believed, that music has the power of affecting, not only the mind, but the nervous system, in such a manner as will give a temporary relief in certain diseases, and, at length, even operate a radical cure. in the memoirs of the academy of sciences for and , we meet with many accounts of diseases, which, after having resisted and baffled all the most efficacious remedies in common use, had, at length, given way to the soft impressions of harmony. m. de mairan, in the memoirs of the same academy, , reasons upon the medicinal powers of music in the following manner:--"it is from the mechanical and involuntary connexion between the organ of hearing, and the consonances excited in the outward air, joined to the rapid communication of the vibrations of this organ to the whole nervous system, that we owe the cure of spasmodic disorders, and of fevers attended with a delirium and convulsions, of which our memoirs furnish many examples." the late learned dr. branchini, professor of physic at udine, collected all the passages preserved in ancient authors, relative to the medicinal application of music, by asclepiades; and it appears from this work that it was used as a remedy by the ancient egyptians, hebrews, greeks, and romans, not only in acute, but chronical disorders. this writer gives several cases within his own knowledge, in which music has been efficacious; but the consideration as well as the honour of these, more properly belong to _modern_ than to ancient music. music, of all arts, gives the most universal pleasure, and pleases longest and oftenest. infants are charmed with the melody of sounds, and old age is animated by enlivening notes. the arcadian shepherds drew pleasure from their reeds; the solitude of achilles was cheered by his lyre; the english peasant delights in his pipe and tabor; the mellifluous notes of the flute solace many an idle hour; and the charming of snakes and other venomous reptiles, by the power of music, is well attested among the indians. "music and the sounds of instruments," says vigneul de marville, "contribute to the health of the body and mind; they assist the circulation of the blood, they dissipate vapours, and open the vessels, so that the action of perspiration is freer." the same author tells a story of a person of distinction, who assured him, that once being suddenly seized with a violent illness, instead of a consultation of physicians, he immediately called a band of musicians, and their violins acted so well upon his inside, that his bowels became perfectly in tune, and in a few hours were harmoniously becalmed. farinelli, the famous singer, was sent for to madrid to try the effect of his magical voice on the king of spain. his majesty was absorbed in the deepest melancholy; nothing could excite an emotion in him; he lived in a state of total oblivion of life; he sat in a darkened chamber, entirely given up to the most distressing kind of madness. the physicians at first ordered farinelli to sing in an outer room; and for the first day or two this was done, without producing any effect on the royal patient. at length it was observed, that the king, awakening from his stupor, seemed to listen; on the next day tears were seen starting from his eyes: the day after he ordered the door of his chamber to be left open, and at length the perturbed spirit entirely left our modern saul, and the _medicinal_ music of farinelli effected what medicine itself had denied. "after food," says sir william jones,[ ] "when the operations of digestion and absorption gives so much employment to the vessels, that a temporary state of mental repose, especially in hot climates, must be found essential to health, it seems reasonable to believe that a few agreeable airs, either heard or played without effort, must have all the good effects of sleep, and none of its disadvantages; putting, as milton says, '_the soul in tune_' for any subsequent exertion; an experiment often made by myself. i have been assured by a credible witness, that two wild antelopes often used to come from their woods to the place where a more savage beast, serajuddaulah, entertained himself with concerts, and that they listened to the strains with the appearance of pleasure, till the monster, in whose soul there was no music, shot one of them to display his archery." a learned native told sir william jones that he had frequently seen the most venomous snakes leave their holes upon hearing tunes on a flute, which, as he supposed, gave them peculiar delight. of the surprising effects of music, the two following instances, with which we shall close these remarks, are related in the history of the royal academy of society of paris. a famous musician, and great composer was taken ill of a fever, which assumed the continued form, with a gradual increase of the symptoms. on the second day he fell into a very violent delirium, almost constantly accompanied by cries, tears, terrors, and a perpetual watchfulness. the third day of his delirium one of those natural instincts, which make, as it is said, sick animals seek out for the herbs that are proper to their case, set him upon desiring earnestly to hear a little concert in his chamber. his physician could hardly be prevailed upon to consent to it. on hearing the first modulations, the air of his countenance became serene, his eyes sparkled with a joyful alacrity, his convulsions absolutely ceased, he shed tears of pleasure, and was then possessed for music with a sensibility he never before had, nor after, when he was recovered. he had no fever during the whole concert, but, when it was over, he relapsed into his former condition. the fever and delirium were always suspended during the concert, and music was become so necessary to the patient, that at night he obliged a female relation who sometimes sat up with him, to sing and even to dance, and who, being much afflicted, was put to great difficulty to gratify him. one night, among others, he had none but his nurse to attend him, who could sing nothing better than some wretched country ballads. he was satisfied to put up with that, and he even found some benefit from it. at last ten days of music cured him entirely, without other assistance than of being let blood in the foot, which was the second bleeding that was prescribed for him, and was followed by a copious evacuation. this account was communicated to the academy by m. dodart, who had it well authenticated. the second instance of the extraordinary effect of music is related of a dancing-master of alais, in the province of languedoc. being once over-fatigued in carnival time by the exercise of his profession, he was seized with a violent fever, and on the fourth or fifth day, fell into a lethargy, which continued upon him for a considerable time. on recovering he was attacked with a furious and mute delirium, wherein he made continual efforts to jump out of bed, threatened, with a shaking head and angry countenance, those who attended him, and even all that were present; and he besides obstinately refused, though without speaking a word, all the remedies that were presented to him. one of the assistants bethought himself that music perhaps might compose a disordered imagination. he accordingly proposed it to his physician, who did not disapprove the thought, but feared with good reason the ridicule of the execution which might still have been infinitely greater, if the patient should happen to die under the operation of such a remedy. a friend of the dancing master, who seemed to disregard the caution of the physician, and who could play on the violin, seeing that of the patient hanging up in the chamber, laid hold of it, and played directly for him the air most familiar to him. he was cried out against more than the patient who lay in bed, confined in a straight jacket; and some were ready to make him desist; when the patient, immediately sitting up as a man agreeably surprised, attempted to caper with his arms in unison with the music; and on his arms being held, he evinced, by the motion of his head, the pleasure he felt. sensible, however, of the effects of the violin, he was suffered by degrees to yield to the movement he was desirous to perform,--when, strange as it may appear, his furious fits abated. in short, in the space of a quarter of an hour, the patient fell into a profound sleep, and a salutary crisis in the interim rescued him from all danger. footnotes: [ ] dr. burney's history of music. [ ] it has been asserted by several moderns, that deaf people can hear best in a great noise; perhaps to prove that greek noise could do nothing which the modern cannot operate as effectually: and dr. willis in particular tells us of a lady who could hear only while a drum was beating, in so much that her husband, the account says, hired a drummer as her servant, in order to enjoy the pleasures of her conversation. [ ] many of the ancients speak of music as a recipe for every kind of malady, and it is probable that the latin was _praecinere_, to charm away pain, _incantare_ to enchant, and our own word _incantation_, came from the medical use of song. [ ] m. burette, with dr. mead, baglivi, and all the learned of their time throughout europe, seem to have entertained no doubt of this fact, which, however, philosophical and curious enquirers have since found to be built upon fraud and fallacy. vide serrao, _della tarantula o vero falangio di puglia._ [ ] pope's translation of the iliad, book . [ ] see a curious dissertation on the musical modes of the hindoos by sir w. jones. chapter xv. presages, prodiges, presentiments, etc. the common opinion of comets being the presages of evil is an old pagan superstition, introduced and entertained among christians by their prejudice for antiquity; and which mr. bayle says is a remnant of pagan superstition, conveyed from father to son, ever since the first conversion from paganism; as well because it has taken deep root in the minds of men, as because christians, generally speaking, are as far gone in the folly of finding presages in every thing, as infidels themselves. it may be easily conceived how the pagans might be brought stedfastly to believe that comets, eclipses, and thunderstorms, were the forerunners of calamities, when man's strong inclination for the marvellous is considered, and his insatiable curiosity for prying into future events, or what is to come to pass. this desire of peeping into futurity, as has already been shown, has given birth to a thousand different kinds of divination, all alike whimsical and impertinent, which in the hands of the more expert and cunning have been made most important and mysterious tools. when any one has been rogue enough to think of making a penny of the simplicity of his neighbours, and has had the ingenuity to invent something to amuse, the pretended faculty of foretelling things to come, has always been one of the readiest projects. from hence always the assumption of judiciary astrology. those who first began to consult the motions of the heavens, had no other design in view, than the enriching their minds with so noble a knowledge; and as they had their genius bent on the pursuit of useful knowledge, they never dreamed of converting astrology or a knowledge of the stars to the purpose of picking the pockets of the credulous and ignorant, of whose blind side advantage was taken by these sideral sages to turn them to account by making them believe that the doctrine of the stars comprehended the knowledge of all things that were, or are, or ever shall be; so that every one, for his money, might come to them and have their fortune told. the better to gull the world, the star-gazers assert that the heavens are the book in which god has written the destiny of all things; and that it is only necessary to learn to read this book, which is simply the construction of the stars, to be able to know the whole history of what is to come to pass. very learned men, origen and plotinus among the rest, were let into the secret, and grew so fond of it, that the former,[ ] willing to support his opinion by something very solid, catches at the authority of an apocryphal book, ascribed to the patriarch joseph, where jacob is introduced speaking to his twelve sons: "i have read in the register of heaven what shall happen to you and your children."[ ] but comets were the staple commodity that turned principally to account. in compliance, however, with the impressions of fear which the strangeness and excessive length of these stars made upon mankind, the astrologers did not hesitate to pronounce them of a malign tendency; and the more so when they found they had, by this means, made themselves in some degree necessary, in consequence of the impatient applications that were made to them as from the mouth of an oracle, what particular disaster such and such a comet portended. eclipses furnished more frequent occasions for the exercise of their talent. from this worthy precedent of judicial astrology, others took the hint and invented new modes of divination, such as geomancy, chiromancy, onomancy, and the like; till the world by degrees became so overrun with superstition, that the least trifle was converted into a presage or presentiment; and the more so when this kind of knowledge became the business of religion; and when the substance of divine worship consisted in the ordinances of augurs who, to make themselves necessary in the world, were obliged to keep up and quicken men's apprehensions of the wrath of god, took special care to cultivate comets, and bring it into a proverb, that "so many comets so many calamities." they knew, as livy expresses it, that it was best to fish in troubled waters, where, speaking of a contagious distemper, which, from the country villages, spread over the city, occasioned by an extraordinary drought in the year of rome , he observes how, at last, it infected the mind,[ ] by the management of those who lived in the superstition of the people; so that nothing was to be seen or heard except some new fangled ceremony or other in every corner. "the devil," as bayle says, "who had a hopeful game on't, and saw superstition the surest way to get himself worshipped under the name of the false gods, in a hundred various ways, all criminal and abominable in the sight of the sovereign lord of heaven and earth, never failed, on the appearance of any rare meteor, or uncommon star, to exert his imposing arts, and make idolaters believe, they were the signs of divine wrath, and that they were all undone unless they appeased their gods by sacrifices of men and brute beasts." politicians have also lent a helping hand to give presages a reputation, as an excellent scheme, either to intimidate the people, or to raise their drooping spirits. had the roman soldiers been free thinkers, drusus, the son of tiberius, had not been so fortunate as to quell a desperate mutiny among the legions of pannonia, who utterly refused to obey his commands; but an eclipse, which critically intervened, broke their refractory spirits to such a degree, that drusus, who managed their panic fear with great dexterity and address, did what he liked with them. an eclipse of the moon put the army of alexander the great into such a consternation, some days before the battle of arbela, that the soldiers, under the impression that heaven was against them, were very reluctant to advance; and their devotion turning to downright disobedience, alexander commanded the egyptian astrologers, who were the deepest versed in the mystery of the stars, to give their opinions of this eclipse in the presence of all the officers of his army. without giving themselves much trouble to explain the physical cause which it was their interest to conceal from the people, the wise men declared that the sun was on the side of the grecians, and the moon for the persians; and that this planet was never in an eclipse, but it threatened them with some mighty disaster: of this they quoted several ancient examples among the kings of persia, who, after an eclipse, had always found their gods unpropitious in the day of battle. "nothing," says quintus curtius,[ ] "is so effectual as superstition for keeping the vulgar under. be they ever so unruly and inconstant, if once their minds are possessed with the vain visions of religion, they are all obedience to the soothsayer, whatever becomes of the general." the answer of the egyptian astrologers being circulated among the soldiers, restored their confidence and their courage. on another occasion alexander, just before he passed the river granicus, observing the circumstance of time, which was the month desius, reckoned unfortunate to the macedonians from all antiquity, it made the soldiers melancholy; he immediately ordered this dangerous month to be called by the name of that which preceded it, well knowing what power and influence vain religious scruples have over little and ignorant minds. he sent private orders to aristander his chief soothsayer, just offering up a sacrifice for a happy passage, to write on the liver of the victim with a liquor prepared for that purpose, that the gods had "granted the victory to alexander." the notice of this miracle filled the men with invincible ardour; and now they rent the air with acclamations, exclaiming that the day was their own, since the gods had vouchsafed them such plain demonstrations of their favour. the history, indeed, of this mighty conqueror, affords more such examples of artifice, though he always affected to conquer by mere dint of bravery. but what is still more extraordinary, this very hero, who palmed so often such tricks upon others, was himself caught in his turn, as being well as exceedingly superstitious by fits. we say nothing of themistocles,[ ] who, in the war between xerxes and the athenians, despairing to prevail upon his countrymen by force of reasoning to quit their city, and betake themselves to sea, set all the engines of religion to work; forged oracles, and procured the priests to circulate among the people, that minerva had fled from athens, and had taken the way which led to the port. philip of macedon, whose talent lay in conquering his enemies by good intelligence, purchased at any price, had as many oracles at command as he pleased; and hence demosthenes justly suspecting too good an understanding between philip and the delphian priestess, rallied her with so much acrimony upon her partiality to that prince. it is equally obvious how the same reasons of state, which kept up the popular superstition for other prodigies, should take care to encourage it with regard to comets and other celestial appearances. panegyrists have also done their parts to promote the superstition of presages, as well as the flattering of poets and orators. when a hero is to be found and extolled, they exclaim, that _all nature adores him; that she exerts her utmost powers to serve him; that she mourns at his misfortunes, promises him long before hand to the world; and when the world, by its sins, is unworthy to possess him longer, heaven, which calls him home, hangs out new lights, etc._ with this hyperbole m. balzac regaled cardinal richelieu, adding, that _to form such a minister, universal nature was on the stretch; god gives him first by promise, and makes him the expectation of ages_. for this he was attacked by the critics, but he defended himself; alleging, that other panegyrics had gone some notes higher: he, for example, among the ancients, who said of certain great souls that _all the orders of heaven were called together to fancy a fine destiny for them_, and that illustrious nation who wrote that _the eternal mind was wrapt in deep contemplation, and big with the vast design, when it conceived such a genius as cardinal hippolito d'este_. why could not this same writer have thought of one example more, such as that of the priest who told the emperor constantine that _divine providence, not content with qualifying him for the empire of the world, had formed virtues in his soul, which should entitle him to reign in heaven with his only son_. thus have flatterers seized the most surprising natural effects to enhance their hero's glory, and make their court to great men. the poets of the time of augustus vied with each other in persuading the world that the murder of julius caesar was the cause of all the prodigies that followed. horace, for instance, in one of his odes, attempts to prove that the overflowings of rivers were reckoned among bad presages; and pretends that the tiber had not committed all those ravages, but in complaisance to his wife ilia, who was bent on the death of his kinsman caesar; and that all the other calamities which subsequently afflicted or threatened the roman empire, were the consequences of his assassination. if virgil may be credited,[ ] the sun was so troubled at the death of caesar that it went into deep mourning, and so obscured his beams, that the world was alarmed lest it never should appear again. in the mean time, no sooner was the comet observed, which followed this murder, than another set of flatterers pretended that it was caesar's soul received into the order of the gods; and they dedicated a temple[ ] to the comet, and set up the image of caesar with a star on his forehead. it appears from the sermons of the ancient fathers, that the christians of that time believed they gave great relief to the moon in an eclipse, by raising hideous shouts to the skies, which they imagined recovered her out of her fainting fit, and without which she must inevitably have expired. st. ambrose, the author of the th sermon _de tempore_, bound up with those of st. austin, and st. eloy, bishop of noyon, declaim particularly against this abuse. it appears also from the homilies of st. chrysostom, st. basil, st. austin, and others, that the christians of their days drew several kinds of presages from persons sneezing at critical times; from meeting a cat, a dog, or an ill-looking (squinting) woman, a maiden, one blind of an eye, or a cripple; on being caught by the cloak on stepping out of a door, or from a sudden catch in one's joint or limb. st. eloy tells his people plainly, that whoever pays attention to what he meets at his first going out or coming in, or to any particular voice, or to the chirping of a bird, is so far a pagan. indeed, all these, and innumerable others of the same description of superstitious among christians, are remnants of ancient paganism; as they have been denounced by the censures of popes, provincial councils, synodical decrees, and other grave authorities. and, though there were not such a cloud of witnesses, there would be no difficulty in proving the disease of pagan origin. for, independent of those who preached the gospel of our saviour, having never promulgated such notions, we learn from several ancient authorities, that the gentiles had all these superstitions in the highest regard. it was one general opinion among them, that the eclipses of the moon were the consequence of certain magic words by which sorcerers could wrench her from the skies, and drag her near enough the earth to cast a frothy spittle on their herbs--one of the principal ingredients in their incantations. to rescue the moon from the supposed torture she was in, and to frustrate the charm, it was necessary to prevent her from hearing the magic words, by drowning in noise and hideous outcries, for which purpose the people used to assemble during an eclipse of the moon with _rough_ music, such as frying pans, brazen vessels, old tin kettles, etc. according to pietro della voile, the persians keep up the same ridiculous ceremony to this day. it is likewise, according to tavernier, observed in the kingdom of tunquin, where they imagine the moon to be, at that time, struggling with a dragon. it is to the same source that we owe the imaginary raging heat of the dog-star--the pretended presages of several evils ascribed to eclipses, and all the allusions of astrology. in a treatise written by abogard, bishop of lyons, in , composed to undeceive a world of people, who were persuaded that there were enchanters who could command thunder, and hail, and tempest, to destroy the fruits of the earth; and that they drove a great trade by this mystery with the people of a certain country called magonia, who came once a year, sailing in large fleets through the air, to freight with the blighted corn, for which they paid down ready money to the enchanters. so little was this matter doubted, that one day the bishop had enough to do to save three men and a woman from being stoned to death, the people insisting they had just fallen overboard from one of these aërial ships. we do not here examine whether, in those days, the people literally were more superstitious and credulous than in the days of paganism. it is enough to say, that they were of very easy belief; and hence men began to write their histories in the style of romance, mixing up a thousand fables with the deeds of great men, such as roland, nephew to charlemagne; which so suited the taste of the age, that no book would afterwards go down in any other style--witness, for instance, the manual of devotions by james de voragine, archbishop of genoa, composed towards the latter end of the thirteenth century; and in which melchior canus, a learned spanish bishop, is so scandalized in his eleventh book of common places. another doctor of divinity,[ ] speaking of the depraved state of the times, says, "it was the error, or rather folly, of some of the ancients, to think, that in writing the actions of illustrious men, the style must sink, unless they mixed up with it the ornaments, for so they called them, of poetical fiction, or something of this sort; and, consequently, thus blended truth with fable." this being the prevailing fashion of the times, we are inclined to believe, that in the histories of the crusades, many apocryphal subjects are introduced, which ought, consequently, to be read _cum grano salis_. this is decidedly the opinion of pere maimbourg,[ ] who, after the relation of the battle of iconium, won by frederick of barbarossa, , says, "what was chiefly wonderful after this battle, was the conqueror's sustaining little or no loss, which most people ascribed to the particular protection of st. victor and st. george, names oftenest invoked in the christian army, which many of them said they saw engaging at the head of the squadrons. whether in reality there might be something in it extraordinary, which has often happened, as the scriptures inform us; or whether, by often hearing of celestial squadrons appearing at the battle of antioch in the first crusade, warm imaginations possessed with the belief, and penetrated with these ideas, formed new apparitions of their own, but sure it is, that one louie helfenstein, a gentleman of reputation, and far from a visionary, affirmed to the emperor, on his oath, and on the vow of a pilgrim devoted to the holy sepulchre and the crusade, that _he often saw st. george charge at the head of the squadrons, and put the enemy to flight_; which was afterwards confirmed by the turks themselves, owning that they saw some troops in white charge in the first ranks in the christian army, though there were really none of that livery. no one, i know, is bound (continues p. maimbourg) to believe visions of this kind, subject for the most part to notorious illusion: but i know too, that an historian is not of his own authority, to reject them, especially when supported by such remarkable testimony. "and though he be at liberty to believe or not, yet he has no regret, by suppressing them, to deprive the reader of his liberty, when he meets with passages of this kind, of judging as he thinks fit." this reflection (says bayle) from so celebrated an historian, not suspected of favouring the hugonot incredulity, is a strong presumption on my side. the abuse of presentiments has been carried to the very scriptures. we are told, that the manner of tamerlane giving his blessing to his two sons, by bowing down the head of the elder, and chucking the youngest under the chin, was a presage of the elevation of the latter in prejudice to the former, was grounded on the th chapter of genesis, where jacob is represented laying his right hand on the head of the younger, forseeing by inspiration that he would be the greater of the two. meanwhile there is a difference between the two benedictions. the tartar, wholly destitute of the knowledge of future events, did not diversify the motion of his hands, on purpose to establish a presage; and god never vouchsafing this knowledge to infidels, did not guide his hands in a particular manner to form a presage of what should befal his children;--whereas jacob, on the contrary, filled with the spirit of prophecy, whereby he saw the fortunes of his children, directed his words and actions according to this knowledge; by which means both became presages. presages, presentiments, and prodigies, might be multiplied ad infinitum. whoever reads the roman historians will be surprised at their number, and which frequently filled the people with the most dreadful apprehensions. it must be confessed, that some of these seem altogether supernatural; while much the greater part only consist of some of the uncommon productions of nature, which superstition always attributed to a superior cause, and represented as the prognostications of some impending misfortunes. of this class may be reckoned the appearance of two suns;[ ] the nights illuminated by rays of light; the views of fighting armies; swords and spears darting through the air; showers of milk, of blood, of stones, of ashes, or of fire; and the birth of monsters, of children, or of beasts who had two heads; or of infants who had some feature resembling those of the brute creation. these were all dreadful prodigies which filled the people with inexpressible astonishment, and the whole roman empire with an extreme perplexity; and whatever unhappy event followed, repentance was sure to be either caused or predicted by them. footnotes: [ ] euseb. praep. evang. l. . c. . [ ] legi in tabulis coeli quaecunque contingent vobis et feliis vestris. [ ] nec corpora modo affecta tabo, sed animos quoque multiplex religio, et pleraque externa invasit, novos ritus sacrificando vaticinandoque, inferentibus in domos, quibus quaestui sunt capti superstitione animi. l. , dec. . [ ] tacit, annal. lib. , et ib. , cap. . [ ] plutarch in his life. [ ] georg. l. . [ ] suetonius in vita caesaris. [ ] petseus, in galfredo monimetensi. [ ] hist. crusade, l. . [ ] nothing is more easy than to account for these productions, which have no relation to any events, no more than comets, that may happen to follow them. the appearance of two suns has frequently happened in england, as well as in other places, and is only caused by the clouds being placed in such a situation as to reflect the image of that luminary; nocturnal fires, inflamed spears, fighting armies, were no more than what we call aurora borealis, northern lights, or inflamed vapours floating in the air; showers of stones, of ashes, or of fire, were no other than the effects of the eruptions of some volcano at a considerable distance. showers of milk were only caused by some quality in the air condensing and giving a whitish colour to the water, etc. chapter xvi. phenomena of meteors, optic delusions, spectra, etc. the meteors known to the ancients were called [greek: lampdes pithoi] bolides, faces, globi, etc. from particular differences in their shape and appearance, and sometimes under the general term of comets. in the philosophical transactions, they are called, indiscriminately, fire-balls, or fiery meteors; and names of similar import have been applied to them in the different languages of europe. the most material circumstances observed of such meteors may be brought under the following heads: . their general appearance. . their path. . their shape or figure. . their light and colour. . their height. . the noise with which they are accompanied. . their fire. . duration, . their velocity. under these different heads meteors have been investigated by the scrutinizing of philosophy, and many superstitious notions, long entertained concerning them, entirely exploded. meteoric phenomena, it has been demonstrated, all proceed from one common cause--irregularity in the density of the atmosphere. when the atmospheric fluid is homogenous and of equal density, the rays of light pass without obstruction or alteration in their shape or direction; but when they enter from a rarer into a denser medium, they are refracted or bent out of their course; and this with greater or less effect according to the different degrees of density in the media, or the deviation of the ray from the perpendicular. if the second medium be very dense in proportion, the ray will be both refracted and reflected; and the object from which it proceeds, will assume a variety of grotesque and extraordinary shapes, and it will sometimes appear as in a reflection from a concave mirror, dilated in size, and changed in situation. the following striking effects are known to proceed from this simple cause. the first is the mirage, seen in the desert of africa. m. monge, a member of the national institute, accompanied the french army into egypt. in the desert, between alexandria and cairo, the mirage of the blue sky was inverted, and so mingled with the sand below, as to impart to the desolate and arid wilderness an appearance of the most rich and beautiful country. they saw, in all directions, green islands, surrounded with extensive lakes of pure and transparent water. nothing could be conceived more lovely and picturesque than this landscape. on the tranquil surface of the lakes, the trees and houses, with which the islands were covered, were strongly reflected with vivid hues, and the party hastened forward to enjoy the cool refreshments of shade and stream, which these populous villages preferred to them. when they arrived, the lake, on whose bosom they floated, the trees, among whose foliage they were embowered, and the people who stood on the shore inviting their approach, had all vanished, and nothing remained but an uniform and irksome desert of sand and sky, with a few naked huts and ragged shrubs. had they not been undeceived by their nearer approach, there was not a man in the french army who would not have sworn, that the visionary trees and lakes had a real existence in the midst of the desert. the same appearance precisely was observed by dr. clarke at raschid, or rosetta. the city seemed surrounded by a beautiful sheet of water, and so certain was his greek interpreter, who was acquainted with the country, of this fact, that he was quite indignant at an arab, who attempted to explain to him, that it was a mere optical delusion. at length, they reached rosetta in about two hours, without meeting any water; and, on looking back on the sand they had just crossed, it seemed to them, as if they had just waded through a vast blue lake. a similar deception takes place in northern climates. cities, battlements, houses, and all the accompaniments of populous places, are seen in desolate regions, where life goes out, and where human foot has never trod. when approached they vanish, and nothing remains but a rugged rock, or a misshapen iceberg. captain scoresby, in his voyage to the arctic regions, on the coast of east greenland, constantly saw those visionary cities, and gives some highly curious plates of the appearances they presented. they resembled the real cities seen on the coast of holland, where towers, and battlements, and spires, "bosomed high in tufted trees," rise on the level horizon, and are seen floating on the surface of the sea. among the optic deceptions noticed by captain scoresby, was one of a very singular nature. his ship had been separated by the ice, from that of his father for some time; and he was looking for her every day, with great anxiety. at length, one evening, to his utter astonishment, he saw her suspended in the air in an inverted position, traced on the horizon in the clearest colours, and with the most distinct and perfect representation. he sailed in the direction in which he saw this visionary phenomenon, and actually found his father's vessel by its indication. he was divided from him by immense masses of icebergs, and at such a distance that it was quite impossible to have seen the ship in her actual situation, or seen her at all, if her spectrum, or image, had not been thus raised several degrees above the horizon into the sky, by this most extraordinary refraction, in the same manner as the sun is often seen, after he is known to have set, and actually sunk far below the line of direct vision. the _fata morgana_ are further illustrations of this optic delusion. this phenomenon is seen at the pharo of messina, in sicily, under certain circumstances. the spectator must stand with his back to the east, on an elevated place behind the city, commanding a view of the bay, and having the mountains, like a wall, opposite to him, to darken the back ground of the picture; no wind must be abroad to ruffle the surface of the sea; and the waters must be pressed up by currents, as they sometimes are, to a considerable height in the middle of the strait, and present a slight convex surface. when all these circumstances occur, as soon as the sun rises over the heights of the calabrian shore, and makes an angle of º with the horizon, all the objects on the shore at reggio are transferred to the middle of the strait, and seen distinctly on the surface of the water, forming an immoveable landscape of rocks, trees, and houses, and a moveable one of men, horses, and cattle; these are formed into a thousand separate compartments, presenting most beautiful and ever varying pictures of animate and inanimate nature, on the swelling surface of the water, broken by the currents, present separate plates of convex mirrors to reflect them; they then as suddenly disappear, as the broad aquatic mirror of the current passes on. sometimes the atmosphere is so dense that the objects are seen, like captain scoresby's ship, snatched up into the regions of the air, thirty or forty feet above the level of the sea; and in cloudy weather, nearer to the surface, bordered with vivid prismatic colours. sometimes colonades of temples and churches, with cross-crowned spires, are all represented as floating on the sea, and by a sudden change of representation, the pillars are curved into arcades, and the crosses are bent into crescents, and all the edifices of the floating city undergo the most extraordinary and fantastic mutations. all these images are so distinct, and produce objects seemingly as palpable as they are visible, as sensible to touch as to sight, that the people of the country are firmly persuaded of their reality. they consider the edifices as the enchanted palaces of the fairy morgana, and the moving objects as living things which inhabit them. whenever the optic phenomenon occurs, they meet together in crowds, with an intense curiosity, mixed with awe and apprehension, which is not removed by an acquaintance with those natural causes, by which mr. swinburn and other foreign travellers, who have witnessed the scene, are able to account for it. the lakes of ireland are equally susceptible of producing those vivid delusions, and the imagination of the people, as lively as that of the sicilians, clothes them with an equal reality. there is scarcely a loch in that country, in which the remains of cities have not been at various times discovered; and many men have been met with who would solemnly swear they saw, and who no doubt did see, representations of them in certain states of the atmosphere. the most celebrated is that which occurs on the lake of killarney. this romantic sheet of water is bounded on one side by a semi-circle of rugged mountains, and on the other by a flat morass, and the vapour generated in the mass, and broken by the mountains, continually represent the most fantastic objects; and often those on shore are transferred to the water, like the fata morgana. many of the rocks are distinguished for their marked and lengthened echoes, and the structure, which in acoustics reflects sounds to the ear, from a point from whence they did not come, reflects images on the eye, from a place very different from where the objects stood which produced them. frequently men riding along shore, are seen as if they were moving across the lake, and this has given rise to the story of o'donougho. this celebrated chieftain was, according to the tradition of the country, endued with the gift of magic; and, on one occasion, his lady requested him to change his shape, that she might see a proof of it. he complied, on condition that she would not be terrified, as such an effect on her must prove fatal to him. her mind failed her, however, in the experiment, and at the sight of some horrible figure he assumed, she shrieked, and he disappeared through the window of his castle, which overhung the lake. from that time he continues an enchanted being, condemned to ride a horse, shod with silver, over the surface of the lake, till his horse's shoes are worn out. on every may morning he is visible, and crowds assemble on the shore to see him. many affirm they have seen him; and one person relates many particulars of his apparition, that the deception must have proceeded from some real object, a man riding along shore, and transferred to the middle of the water, by the optic delusion of the fata morgana. but perhaps the most wonderful, and apparently preternatural effect arising from this cause, is the _spectre of the hartz mountains_ in hanover. there is one particular hill, called the brocken, in which he appears, terrifying the credulous, and gratifying the curious to a very high degree. the most distinct and interesting account is given by mr. hawe, who himself was a witness to it. he had climbed to the top of the mountain thirty times, and had been disappointed, but he persevered, and was at length highly gratified. the sun rose about four o'clock in a serene sky, free from clouds, and its rays passed without obstruction, over another mountain, called the heinschoe. about a quarter past five he looked round to see if the sky was clear, and if there was any chance of his witnessing what he so ardently wished, when suddenly he saw the achtermanshoe, a human figure of monstrous size turned towards him, and glaring at him. while gazing on this gigantic spectre with wonder mixed with an irrepressible feeling of awe and apprehension, a sudden gust of wind nearly carried off his own hat, and he clapped his hand to his head to detain it, when to his great delight the colossal spectre did the same. he then changed his body into a variety of attitudes, all which the figure exactly imitated, but at length suddenly vanished without any apparent cause, and again as suddenly appeared. he called the landlord of the inn, who had accompanied him, to stand beside him, and in a little time two correspondent figures, of dilated size, appeared on the opposite mountain. they saluted them in various ways by different movements of their bodies, all which the giants returned with perfect politeness, and then vanished. a traveller now joined mr. hawe and the innkeeper, and they kept steadily looking for their aerial friends, when they suddenly appeared again three in number, who all performed exactly the same movements as their correspondent spectators. having continued thus for some time, appearing and disappearing alternately, sometimes faintly, and sometimes more distinct, they at length faded away not again to return. they proved, however, that the preternatural spectre, which had so long filled the country with awe and terror, was no unreal being, still less an existence whose appearance suspended the ordinary laws of god and nature; that, on the contrary, it was the simple production of a common cause, exhibited in an unusual manner, but as regular an effect, and as easy to be accounted for, as the reflection of a face in a looking glass. this constitution of the atmosphere, and its capability of dilating objects, and altering their position by reflection and refraction, will easily account for many phenomena which have been considered miraculous and preternatural in early ages, by the ignorant; and in our own, by the weak and superstitious. such was probably the origin of the crosses seen by constantine and constantius in the first ages of christianity, and such was that of the cross which appeared in the sky in france, to which so many bore attestation. a large cross of wood, painted red, had been erected beside the church, as a part of the ceremony they were performing. in the winter, when the air is most frequently condensed by cold, and its different strata of various degrees of tenacity, on a clear evening after rain, when particles of humidity, still floating in the air gives it greater power of reflection and refraction, when the sun was setting, and his horizontal beams found most favourable to produce meteoric phenomena, the spectrum of this wooden cross was cast on the concave surface of some atmospheric mirror, and so reflected back to the eyes of the spectators from an opposite place, retaining exactly the same shape and proportions, but dilated in size, and changed in position; and it was moreover tinged with red, the very colour of the object of which it was the reflected image. this delusive appearance continued till the sun was so far sunk below the horizon, as to afford no more light to illumine the object, and the image ceased when the rays were no longer distinctly reflected. chapter xvii. elucidation of some ancient prodigies. many of the prodigies recorded by the ancients, admit of a natural explanation; and an attentive examination will show that a small number of causes, which may be discerned and developed, will serve for the explanation of nearly the whole of them. there are two reasons for our believing accounts of prodigies:-- . the number and agreement of these accounts, and the confidence to which the observers and witnesses are entitled. . the possibility of dissipating what is wonderful, by ascertaining any one of the principal causes which might have given to a natural fact a tinge of the marvellous. now, as regards the first reason, the ancients have recorded various occurrences: for instance, a shower of quicksilver at rome is mentioned by dion cassius, in the year of our era, and a similar event is related under the reign of aurelian. if we attend to phenomena taking place in our time, such as a shower of blood, tremendous hail stones weighing a pound each, and containing a stone within them; showers of frogs, and other almost unaccountable occurrences, we must consign them to, "the annals in which science has inserted the facts, she has recognized as such, without as yet pretending to explain them." respecting the second reason, the deceptive appearance which nature sometimes assumes, the exaggeration, almost unavoidable, by partially informed observers, of the details of a phenomenon, or its duration; improper, ill-understood, or badly translated expressions, figurative language, and a practical style; erroneous explanations of emblematical representations; apologues and allegories adopted as real facts. such are the causes, which, singly or together, have frequently swollen with prodigious fictions the page of history; and it is by carefully removing this envelope, that elucidations must be sought of what has hitherto been improperly and disdainfully rejected. a few examples will illustrate these several positions. the river adonis being impregnated, during certain seasons, with volumes of dust raised from the red soil of that part of mount libanus near which it flows, gave rise to the fable of the periodical effusion of the blood of adonis. there is a rock near the island of corfu, which bears the resemblance of a ship under sail: the ancients adapted the story to the phenomenon, and recognised in it the phenician ship, in which ulysses returned to his country, converted into stone by neptune, for having carried away the slayer of his son polyphemus. a more extensive acquaintance with the ocean, has shown that this appearance is not unique; a similar one on the coast of patagonia, has more than once deceived both french and english navigators; and rock dunder, in the west indies, bears a resemblance, at a distance equally illusive. there is another recorded by captain hardy, in his recent travels in mexico, near the shore of california; and the "story of the flying dutchman," is founded on a similar appearance at the cape of good hope, connected with a tradition which has been long current there among the dutch colonists. another instance is afforded by the chimaera, the solution of which enigma, as given by ovid, is so fully substantiated by the very intelligent british officer who surveyed the caramania a few years since. scylla the sea monster, which devoured six of the rowers of ulysses, m. salverte, a recent compiler on the marvellous, is tempted to regard as an overgrown polypus magnified by the optical power of poetry, though we are disposed to give the credit to an alligator, or its mate, a crocodile; and this occurrence is not so fictitiously represented, as it is supposed to be. magical pretensions of certain herbs, etc. in the enumeration of plants possessing magical properties, pliny mentions those which, according to pythagoras, have the property of concealing water. elsewhere, without having resource to magic, he assigns to hemp an analogous quality. according to him, the juice of this plant poured into water becomes suddenly inspissated and congealed. it is probable enough, that he indicated a species of mallow, the hemp-leaved marsh-mallow, of which the mucilaginous juice produces this effect to a certain point, and an effect which may also be obtained from every vegetable as rich in mucilage. of vegetable productions, many produce intoxicating effects, such as berries of the night-shade,[ ] scammony, and various species of fungi. these unquestionably have been made subservient to demonological purposes, which, with the ignorant, have passed off for supernatural agency. the priests, to whom the little comparative learning of the dark ages attached, knew well how to impose upon the credulous: but imposition was not always their object; an extent of benevolence prevailed which contemplated the relief of their fellow creatures afflicted with sickness. it was maintained by the egyptians that, besides the gods, there were many demons which communicated with mortals, and which were often rendered visible by certain ceremonies and songs; that genii exercised an habitual and powerful influence over every particle of matter; that thirty-six of these beings presided over the various members of the human body; and thus, by magical incantations, it might be strengthened, or debilitated, afflicted with, or delivered from disease. thus, in every case of sickness, the spirit presiding over the afflicted part, was first duly invoked. but the magicians did not trust solely to their vain invocations; they were well acquainted with the virtues of certain herbs, which they wisely employed in their attempts at healing. these herbs were greatly esteemed: such, for instance, as the _cynocephalia_, or, as the egyptians themselves termed the _asyrites_,[ ] which was used as a preventive against witchcraft; and the nepenthes which helen presented in a potion to menelaus, and which was believed to be powerful in banishing sadness, and in restoring the mind to its accustomed, or even to greater, cheerfulness, were of egyptian growth. but whatever may be the virtues of such herbs, they were used rather for their magical, than for their medicinal qualities; every cure was cunningly ascribed to the presiding demons, with which not a few boasted that they were, by means of their art, intimately connected. there can be no question, as attested by the earliest records, that the ancients were in possession of many potent remedies. melampus of argos, the most ancient greek physician with whom we are acquainted, is reputed to have cured one of the argonauts of barrenness, by exhibiting the rust of iron dissolved in wine, for the space of ten days. the same physician used hellebore as a purgative on the daughters of king proteus, who were labouring under hypochondriasis or melancholy. bleeding was also a remedy of very early origin, and said to have been first suggested by the hypopotamus or sea horse, which at a certain time of the year was observed to cast itself on the sea shore, and to wound itself among the rocks or stones, to relieve its plethora. podalerius, on his return from the trojan war, cured the daughter of damaethus, who had fallen from a height, by bleeding her in both arms. opium, the concrete juice of the poppy, was known in the earliest ages; and probably it was opium that helen mixed with wine, and gave to the guests of menelaus, under the expressive name of _nepenthe_, to drown their cares, and encrease their hilarity. this conjecture, in a considerable degree, is supported from the fact, that homer's nepenthe was procured from the egyptian thebes, whence the tincture of opium, according to the nomenclature of the pharmacopeia about fifty years ago, and still known by this name in the older writers; and, if dr. darwin may be credited, the cumaean sybil never sat on the portending tripod without first swallowing a few drops of juice of the cherry-laurel. there is every reason to believe that the pagan priesthood were under the influence of some narcotic preparation during the display of their oracular power, but the effects produced would seem rather to resemble those of opium, or perhaps of stramonium, than of prussic acid, which the cherry-laurel water is known to contain. the priests of the american indians, says monardur, whenever they were consulted by the chief gentlemen, or _caciques_, as they are called, took certain leaves of the tobacco, and cast them into the fire, and then received the smoke thus produced by them into their mouths, which caused them to fall upon the ground. after having remained in this position for some time in a state of stupor, they recovered, and delivered the answers, which they pretended to have received during the supposed intercourse with the world of spirits. the narcotic, or sedative influence of the garden radish, was known in the earliest times. in the fables of antiquity we read, that, after the death of adonis, venus, to console herself, and repress her desires, lay down upon a bed of lettuces. the sea onion, or squill, was administered by the egyptians, in cases of dropsy, under the mystic title of the eye of typhon. the practices of incision and scarification, were employed in the greek camp at the siege of troy; and the application of spirits to wounds, was likewise understood; for we find nestor applying a poultice compounded of cheese, onion, and meal, mixed up with the wine of pramnos, to the wounds of machaon. to bring some inactive substance into repute, as promising some extraordinary, nay, wonderful medicinal properties, requires only the sanction of a few great names; and when once established on such a basis, ingenuity, argument, and even experiment, may open their otherwise powerful batteries in vain. in this manner all the quack medicines, ever held in any estimation, got into repute. and the same vulgar prejudice, which induces people to retain an accustomed remedy upon bare assertion and presumption, either of ignorance or partiality, will, in like manner, oppose the introduction of any innovation in practice with asperity, and not unfrequently with a quantum sufficit of scrutiny and abuse, unless, indeed, it be supported by authorities of still greater weight and consideration. the history of many articles of diet, as well as medicine, amply prove how much their reputation and fate have depended upon some authority or other. ipecacuanha had been imported into england for many years, before helvetius, under the patronage of louis xiv, succeeded in introducing it into practice in france; and, to the queen of charles ii., we are indebted for the introduction of that popular beverage, tea, into england. tobacco has suffered as many variable vicissitudes in its fame and character. it has been successively opposed and commended by physicians, condemned and praised by priests and kings, and proscribed and protected by governments, until, at length, this once insignificant production of a little island, has succeeded in propagating itself through every climate and country. nor is the history of the potatoe less remarkable or less strikingly illustrative of the imperious influence of authority. this valuable plant, for upwards of two centuries, received an unprecedented opposition from vulgar prejudice, which all the philosophy of the age was unable to dissipate, until louis xiv. wore a bunch of the flowers of the potatoe, in the midst of his court, on a day of mirth and festivity. the people then, for the first time, obsequiously acknowledged its utility, and began to express their astonishment at the apathy which had so long prevailed with regard to its general cultivation. another instance may be furnished of overbearing authority, in giving celebrity to a medicine, or in depriving it of that reputation to which its virtues entitle it, is seen in the history of the peruvian bark. this famed medicine was imported into spain by the jesuits, where it remained seven years, before a trial was given to it. a spanish priest was the first to whom it was administered, in the year , and even then its use was extremely limited; and it would undoubtedly have sunk into oblivion, but for the supreme power of the church of rome, under whose protecting auspices it gained a temporary triumph over the passions and prejudices which opposed its introduction. pope innocent x. at the intercession of the cardinal de lugo, who was formerly a spanish jesuit, ordered the bark to be duly examined, and on the favourable report, which was the result of this examination, it immediately rose into high favour and celebrity. the root of the male fern, a nostrum for the cure of the tape worm, was secretly retailed by madame noufleur. this secret was purchased by louis xv. for a considerable sum of money. it was not until this event that the physicans discovered, that the same remedy had been administered in the same complaint by galen. the history of popular remedies in the cure of gout, is equally illustrative of this subject. the duke of portland's celebrated powder was nothing less than the _deacintaureon_ of caelius aurelianus, or the _antidotus et duobus centaurae generibus_ of aetius, the receipt for which, a friend of his grace brought with him from switzerland, into which country, in all likelihood, it had been introduced by the early medical writers, who had transcribed it from the greek volumes, soon after their arrival into the western part of europe.[ ] the active ingredient of a no less celebrated preparation for the same complaint, the _eau médicinale_ de husson, a medicine brought into fashion by m. de husson, a military officer in the service of louis xvi has been discovered to be the meadow saffron. upon searching after and trying the properties of this herb, it was observed that similar effects in the cure of the gout were ascribed to a certain plant, called hermodaclyllus, by oribasius (an eminent physician of the th century) and aetius, who flourished at alexandria towards the end of the th century, but more particularly by alexander of tralles, a physician of asia minor, whose prescription consisted of hermodaclyllus, ginger, pepper, cummin seed, aniseed, and scammony, which he says will enable those who take it to walk immediately. on an inquiry being immediately set on foot for the discovery of this unknown plant, a specimen of it was procured at constantinople, and it actually did turn out to be a species of meadow saffron, the colchicum autumnale of linnaeus. the celebrated fever powder of dr. james was evidently not his original composition, but an italian nostrum, invented by a person of the name of lisle; a receipt for the preparation of which is to be found at length in colborne's complete english dispensary for the year . the various secret preparations of opium which have been extolled as the discovery of modern days, may be recognised in the works of ancient authors. the use of prussic acid in the cure of consumptions, lately suggested by m. magendie, at paris, is little more than the revival of the dutch practice in this disorder; for linnaeus informs us, that distilled laurel water was frequently used in the cure of pulmonary consumption.[ ] we shall conclude these observations with a few remarks on what are termed _patent medicines, nostrums_, or _quack medicines_, and their boasted pretensions in general. there is, in fact, but one state of perfect health, yet the deviations from this state, and the general species of diseases are almost infinite. hence it will easily be understood, that in the classes of medical remedies, there must likewise he a great variety, and that some of them are even of opposite tendencies. such are both the warm and cold bath considered as medical remedies. though opposite to each other in their sensible effects, each of them manifests its medical virtues, yet only in such a state of the body as will admit of using it with advantage. from these premises, it is evident that an universal remedy, or one that possesses healing powers for the _cure of all diseases_, is, in fact, a non-entity, a mere delusion, the existence of which is physically impossible, as the mere idea of such a thing involves a contradiction. how, for instance, can it he conceived, that the same remedy should be capable of restoring the tone of the muscular fibres, when they are relaxed, and also have the power of relaxing them when they are too rigid; that it should coagulate the fluids when in a state of resolution, and again attenuate them when they are too viscid; that it should moderate the nerves when in a state of preturnatural sensibility, and likewise restore them to their proper degree of irritability when they are in a contrary state. the belief in an universal remedy has long been abandoned, even among the vulgar, and long exploded in those classes of society, which are not influenced by prejudice, or tinctured with fanaticism. it is, however, sincerely to be regretted, that the daily press continues to be inundated with advertisements; and that the lower, and less informed class of the community, are still imposed upon by a set of privileged impostors, who frequently puzzle the intelligent to decide, whether the impudence or the industry with which they endeavour to establish the reputation of their respective poisons, be the most prominent feature in their character. in illustration of this last observation, it may further be observed, that most of the nostrums advertised as cough drops, etc., are preparations of opium, similar, but inferior, to the well-known paregoric elixir of the shops, but disguised and rendered more deleterious by the addition of heating and aromatic gums. the injury which may be occasioned by the indiscriminate employment of such medicines might be very serious and irremediable, as is well known to every person possessing the smallest portion of medical knowledge. the boasted, though groundless pretensions of certain illiterate empirics to cure diseases which have eluded the skill and penetration of the faculty, is another absurdity into which people of good common sense have been most woefully entrapped. the lessons of experience ought to prove the most useful, as purchased at the greatest trouble and expense; but if people choose to run over a precipice with their eyes open, they leave themselves nothing to regret, and the public less to lament, by their fall. it was justly observed by the sagacious and intelligent bacon, "that a reflecting physician is not directed by the opinion which the multitude entertain of a favourite remedy, but that be must be guided by a sound judgment; and consequently, he is led to make very important distinctions between those things which only by their name pass for medical remedies, and others, which in reality possess healing powers." we avail ourselves of the quotation, as it indirectly censures the conduct of certain medical practitioners, who do not scruple to recommend what are vulgarly called patent and other quack preparations, the composition of which is carefully concealed from the public. having acquired their unmerited reputation by mere chance, and being supported by the most refined artifices, in order to delude the unwary, we are unable to come at the evidence of perhaps nine tenths of those who have experienced their fatal effects, and who are now no longer in a situation to complain. from universal remedies or panaceas, to nostrums and specifics, such, for instance, as pretend to cure the _same_ disease in every patient, is easy and natural. with the latter also, impositions of a dangerous tendency are often practised. it may be asked how far they are practicably admissible, and in what cases they are wholly unavailing? the answer is not difficult. in those diseases, which in every instance depend upon the same cause, as in agues, the small-pox, measles, and many other contagious distempers, the possibility of specifics, in a limited sense, may be rationally, though hypothetically admitted. but in either maladies, the causes of which depend on a variety of other concurrent circumstances, and the cure of which in different individuals, frequently requires very opposite remedies, as in dropsy, various species of colds, the almost infinite variety of consumptions, etc. a specific remedy is an imposition upon the common sense of mankind. those who are but imperfectly acquainted with the various causes from which the same disorder originates in different individuals, can never entertain such a vulgar and dangerous notion. they will easily perceive, how much depends upon ascertaining with precision, the seat and cause of the complaint, before any medicine can be presented with safety or advantage:--even life and death are, we are sorry to add, too often decided by the first steps. different constitutions, different symptoms, and stages of disease, all require more or less a separate consideration. what is more natural than to place confidence in a remedy, which has been known to afford relief to others in the same kind of disposition? the patient anxiously enquires after a person who has been afflicted with the same malady; he is eager to know the remedy that has been used with success; his friend or neighbour imparts to him the wished for intelligence; he is determined to give the medicine a fair trial, and takes it with confidence. from what has been stated, it will not be difficult to conceive, that if his case does not exactly correspond with that of his friend, any _chance_ remedy may prove extremely dangerous, if not fatal. hence it becomes evident, that the results are not to be depended upon, nor the chance risked. the physician is obliged to employ all his sagacity, supported by his own experience, as well as by that of his predecessors; and yet he is often under the necessity of discovering, from the progress of the disease, what he could not derive from the minutest research. how then can it be expected, that a novice in the art of healing should be more successful, when the whole of his method of cure is either the impulse of the moment, or the effect of his own credulity? it may be therefore truly said, that life and death are frequently entrusted to chance! the late dr. huxham, a physician of some eminence in his day, when speaking of asclepiades, the roman empiric, says: "this man from a _declaimer_ turned _physician_, and set himself up to oppose all the physicians of his time; and the novelty of the thing bore him out, as it frequently doth the quacks of the present time; and ever _will while the majority of the world are fools_." in another place, he curiously contrasts the too timid practice of some regular physicians, with the hazardous treatment, which is the leading feature of quacks: "the timid, low, insipid practice with some, is almost as dangerous as the bold, unwarranted empiricism of others; time and opportunity, never to be regained, are often lost by the former; while with the latter, by a _bold push_, you are sent off the stage in a moment." from what has been said, it may confidently be asserted, that a universal remedy still remains as great a desideratum as the philosopher's stone; and either can only obtain credit with the weak-minded, the credulous, or the fanatic. one of the most unfortunate circumstances in the history of such medicines, is the insinuating and dangerous method, by which they are puffed into notice. and as we have little of the beneficial effects which they daily must produce, by being promiscuously applied, people attend only to the extraordinary instances, perhaps not one in fifty, where they have afforded a temporary or apparent relief. it is well known, that the more powerful a remedy is, the more permanent and dangerous must be its effects on the constitution; especially if it be introduced like many patent medicines, by an almost indefinite encrease of the dose. there is another consideration, not apt to strike those who are unacquainted with the laws of the animal economy. when it is intended to bring about any remarkable change in the system of an organized body, such means are obliged to be employed as may contribute to produce that change without affecting too violently the living powers, or without carrying their action to an improper length. indeed, the patient may be gradually habituated to almost any stimulus, but at the expence of a paralytic stroke on an impaired constitution. such are among the melancholy effects of imposture and credulity! "were it possible," says a learned authority, "to collect all the cases of sacrifices to the mysterious infatuation, it is probable that their number would exceed the enormous havoc made by gunpowder or the sword." another reputable writer makes the following terse remark on this subject: "as matters stand at present," says he, "it is easier to cheat a man out of his life, than of a shilling: and almost impossible either to detect or punish the offender. notwithstanding this, people still shut their eyes, and take every thing upon trust, that is administered by any pretender to medicine, without daring to ask him a reason for any part of his conduct. implicit faith, every where else the object of ridicule, is still sacred here." footnotes: [ ] the berries of the belladonna or deadly nightshade, produce, when eaten, a furious madness, followed by sleep, which lasts for twenty-four hours. such drugs as produce mental stupefaction, without impairing the physical powers, may have given rise to the accounts of men being transformed into brutes, so frequent in what are denominated the fabulous writers, while the evanescent but exquisite joys of an opposite description, an anticipation of what implicit obedience would ensure them for ever, produced blind, furious, devoted adherents to any philosophical speculator, who would venture to try so desperate an experiment. [ ] the rowan tree or mountain ash, is used by the scottish peasantry with the same view; and a small twig of it is sewed up in the cow's tail, to preserve the animal and its produce from the influence of witches and warlocks. [ ] see pharmacologia, by dr. paris. [ ] vide "amenetates academicae," vol. . chapter xviii. the practice of obeah, or negro witchcraft--charms--their knowledge op vegetable poisons--secret poisoning. obeah, a pretended sort of witchcraft, arising from a superstitious credulity, prevailing among the negroes, has ever been considered as a most dangerous practice, to suppress which, in our west india colonies, the severest laws have been enacted. the obeah is considered as a potent and most irresistible spell, withering and paralyzing, by indiscribable terrors and unusual sensations, the devoted victim. one negro who desires to be revenged on another, and is afraid to make an open and manly attack on his adversary, has usually recourse to this practice. like the witches' cauldron in macbeth, it is a combination of many strange and ominous things. earth gathered from a grave, human blood, a piece of wood fastened in the shape of a coffin, the feathers of the carion crow, a snake or alligator's tooth, pieces of egg-shell, and other nameless ingredients, compose the fatal mixture. the whole of these articles may not be considered as absolutely necessary to complete the charm, but two or three are at least indispensable.[ ] it will of course be conceived, that the practice of obeah can have little effect, unless a negro is conscious that it is practised upon him, or thinks so;[ ] for, as the whole evil consists in the terrors of a superstitious imagination, it is of little consequence whether it be practised or not, if he only imagines that it is. but if the charm fails to take hold of the mind of the proscribed person, another and more certain expedient is resorted to--the secretly administering of poison to him. this saves the reputation of the sorcerer, and effects the purpose he had in view. an obeah man or woman (for it is practised by both sexes) is a very dangerous person on a plantation; and the practice of it is made felony by law, punishable with death where poison has been administered, and with transportation where only the charm has been used. but numbers have, and may be swept off, by its infatuation, before the crime is detected; for, strange as it may appear, so much do the negroes stand in awe of those _obeah_ professors, so much do they dread their malice and their power, that, though knowing the havoc they have made, and are still making, they are afraid to discover them to the whites; and, others perhaps, are in league with them for sinister purposes of mischief and revenge. a negro, under the infatuation of obeah, can only be cured of his terrors by being made a christian: refuse him this boon, and he sinks a martyr to imagined evils. a negro, in short, considers himself as no longer under the influence of this sorcery when he becomes a christian. and instances are known of negroes, who, being reduced by the fatal influence of obeah to the lowest state of dejection and debility, from which there were little hopes of recovery, have been surprisingly and rapidly restored to health and cheerfulness by being baptized christians. the negroes believe also in apparitions, and stand in great dread of them, conceiving that they forbode death, or some other great evil, to those whom they visit; in short, that the spirits of the dead come upon the earth to be revenged on those who did them evil when in life. thus we see, that not only from the remotest antiquity, but even among slaves and barbarians, the belief in supernatural agencies has been a popular creed, not, in fact, confined to any distant race or tribe of people; and, what is still more surprising, there is a singular and most remarkable identity in the notion or conception of their infernal ministry. in the british west indies, the negroes of the windward coast are called _mandingoes_, a name which is here taken as descriptive of a peculiar race or nation. there seems reason, however, to believe, that a _mandingo_ or _mandinga_-man, is properly the same with an obi-man. a late traveller in brazil gives us the following anecdotes of the _mandinga_ and _mandingueiro_ of the negroes in that country. "one day," says mr. koster, "the old man (a negro named apollinario) came to me with a face of dismay, to show me a ball of leaves, tied up with a plant called _cypo_, which he had found under a couple of boards, upon which he slept, in an out-house. the ball was about the size of an apple. i could not imagine what had caused his alarm, until he said that it was _mandinga_ which had been set for the purpose of killing him; and he bitterly bewailed his fate, that at his age, any one should wish to hasten his death, and to carry him from this world, before our lady thought fit to send him. i knew that two of the black women were at variance, and suspicion fell upon one of them, who was acquainted with the old _mandingueiro_ of engenho velho; therefore she was sent for. i judged that the _mandinga_ was not set for apollonario, but for the negress whose business it was to sweep the out-house. i threatened to confine the suspected woman at gara unless she discovered the whole affair. she said the mandinga was placed there to make one of the negresses dislike her fellow-slaves, and prefer her to the other. the ball of _mandinga_ was formed of five or six kinds of leaves of trees, among which was the pomegranate leaf; there were likewise two or three bits of rag, each of a peculiar kind; ashes, which were the bones of some animals; and there might be other ingredients besides, but these were what i could recognize. this woman either could not from ignorance, or would not give any information respecting the several things of which the ball was composed. i made this serious matter of the _mandinga_, from knowing the faith which not only many of the negroes have in it, but also some of the mulatto people. there is another name for this kind of charm; it is called _feitiço_, and the initiated are called _feitiçeros_; of these there was formerly one at the plantation of st. joam, who became so much dreaded, that his master sold him to be sent to maranham." speaking of the green-beads (_contas verdas_) which are another object of superstition in south america, and of the reliance placed upon them by the valentoens, a lawless description of persons among the colonists of brazil; the same author gives us this further view of the _mandingueiros_ and their charms. "these men," says he, "wore on their necks strings of green beads, which had either come from the coast of africa, bearing the wonderful property of conveying in safety their possessors through all descriptions of perils, or were charmed by the mandingueiros, african sorcerers, who had been brought over to the brazils as slaves, and in secret continued the prohibited practice of imparting this virtue to them. vincente had been acquainted with some of the men, and was firmly persuaded of the virtues of the green beads. when i expressed my doubts of the efficacy of the beads, against a musket ball well directed, his anger rose; but there was pity mingled with it." labat brings these stones from the orellana, or river of the amazons. "i was informed," says our author, "that _contas verdas_ came from africa; but some have found their way from the orellana, and been put into requisition by the _mandingueiros_." mr. southey has also given an account of the "green stones of the amazons," in his history of brazil, vol. . p. . in another place, some traveller presents us with the _mandingueiros_ in the new character of charmer of snakes. "the mandingueiros are famous, among other feats, for handling poisonous snakes, and can, by particular noises or tunes, call those reptiles from their holes, and make them assemble around them. these sorcerers profess to render innoxious the bites of snakes, to persons who submit to their charms and ceremonies. one of the modes which is adopted for this purpose, is that of allowing a tame snake to crawl over the head, face, and shoulders of the person who is to be _curado do cobras_, cured of snakes, as they term it. the owner of the snake repeats a certain number of words during the operation, of which, the meaning, if they contain any, is only known to the initiated. the rattle-snake is said to be, above all other species, the most susceptible of attention to the tunes of the mandingueiros." the above accounts i should not have related upon the authority of one or two authors, i have heard them repeated by several individuals, and even some men of education have spoken of the reputed efficacy of the tame snakes of the mandingueiros, as if they were somewhat staggered in their belief of it. "these men do certainly play strange tricks and very dexterously." the same writer also observes, "one of the negroes whom i had hired with the plantation of jaguaribi, had one leg much thicker than the other. this was occasioned, as he told me, by the bite of a rattlesnake; he said he had been _cured_ from the bites of snakes by a certain _curador de cobra_, or mandingueiro, and had therefore not died; but that as the 'moon was strong,' he had not escaped receiving some injury from the bite." beaver, in his african memoranda, says, "there is another sort of people who travel about in the country, called mandingo-men, (these are mahommedans;) they do not work; they go from place to place, and when they find any chiefs or people, whom they think they can make anything of, they take up their abode sometime with them, and make _gree-grees_, and sometimes cast seed from them for which they make them pay." on this, and other occasion, the word _gree-gree_ is applied to a house whence oracles are delivered: but it is also used for a charm or obi. "they themselves," (the natives of the coast) says the author, last quoted, "always wear _gree-grees_, or charms, which they purchase of the _mandingoes_, to guard them against the effects of certain arms, or of poison, and on which they place the utmost reliance. they have one against poison; another against a musket; another against a sword; and another against a knife; and, indeed, against almost every thing that they think can hurt them. mandingo priest, or _gris gris_ merchant, that is, a seller of charms, which carried about a person, secure the wearer from any evils,--such as poison, murder, witchcraft, etc. to this priest i had made some handsome presents, and he, in return, gave me twelve gris gris, and assured me that they would inevitably secure me from all danger, at the same time he gave me directions how to dispose of them. some were to be carried about my person; one secretly placed over each archway; another kept under my pillow, and another under the door of the house i was then building." the byugas hold these people in great reverence, and say that they 'talk with god.' mr. long, in his history of the west indies, states that, under the general name of obi-men is also included the class of _myal_ men, or those who, by means of a narcotic poison, made with the juice of an herb (said to be the branched calalue, a species of solanum) which occasions a trance of a certain duration, endeavour to convince the deluded spectators of their power to reanimate dead bodies. additional particulars of this superstition preserved by labat, edwards, and others, are to be joined with those now produced;[ ] but after all, the questions to be solved are, whether obi, mandinga, and _gree gree_, are usually words of similar import, and whether those who are conversant in them are all alike, priests of one system of religious faith and worship, or whether the one does not belong to the worship of a good power, and the other to that of an evil one. it is remarkable, that while the etymology of _obi_ has been sought in the names of ancient deities of egypt, and in that of the serpent in the language of the coast, the actual name of the evil deity or _devil_, in the same language, appears to have escaped attention. that name is written by mr. edwards, _obboney_; and the bearer of it is described as a malicious deity, the author of all evil, the inflictor of perpetual diseases, and whose anger is to be appeased only by human sacrifices. this evil deity is the satan of our own faith; and it is the worship of satan which, in all parts of the world constitutes the essence of sorcery. if this name of _obboney_ has any relation to the ob of egypt, and if the ob, both anciently in egypt, and to this day in the west of africa, signifies "a serpent," what does this discover to our view, but that satan has the name of _serpent_ among the negro nations as well as among those of europe? as to how it has happened that the serpent, which, in some systems, is the emblem of the good spirit, is in others the emblem of the evil one, that is a topic which belongs to a more extensive enquiry. this is enough for our present satisfaction to remember that the profession of, and belief in sorcery or witchcraft, supposes the existence of two deities, the one, the author of good, and the other the author of evil; the one worshipped by good men for good things, and for good purposes: and the other by bad men for bad things and purposes; and that this worship is sorcery and the worshippers sorcerers. it will be seen above, that since african charms are to prevent evil, and others to procure it, the first belong to the worship, and are derived from the power, of the good spirit; and the second are from the opposite source. it is to be concluded, then, that the superstition of _obi_ is no other than the practice of, and belief in the worship of _obboney_ or _oboni_, the evil deity of the africans, the serpent of africa and of europe, and the old serpent and satan of the scriptures; and that the witchcraft of the negroes is evidently the same with our own. it might indeed be further shown, that the latter have their temporary transformations of men into alligators, wolves, and the like, as the french have their loups-garoux, the germans their war-wolves, wolf-men, and the rest.[ ] the negroes practising obeah are acquainted with some very powerful vegetable poisons, which they use on these occasions, and by which they acquire much extensive credit. their fetiches are their household gods, or domestic divinities; one of whom is supposed to preside over a whole province, and one over every family. this idol is a tree, the head of an ape, a bird, or any such thing, as their fancy may suggest. the negroes have long been held famous in the act of secret or slow poisoning. if doubts and difficulties envelope the discovery of poisons, whose distinguishing character is the rapidity of these effects, how much greater must be the uncertainty when we are required to ascertain the administrations of what are called slow poisons. this subject, indeed, is so closely entwined with popular superstitions, that it is difficult to separate truth from falsehood. in italy, for example, it was formerly said, that poisons were made to destroy life at any stated period--from a few hows to a year. this, however, turns out to be a mere fiction; and, it is well understood, that we know of no substances that will produce death at a determinate epoch. the following case of the late prince charles of augustenburgh, nevertheless, shows that the idea of slow poison is still very prevalent, even among the physicians of continental europe. prince charles of augustenburgh, crown prince of sweden, and the predecessor of bernadotte, in that station, fell dead from his horse on the nd of may, , while reviewing troops in scania. his death, during that stormy period of public affairs, excited great attention, and an opinion soon spread abroad that he had been poisoned. the king ordered a judicial investigation; and it appeared that dr. rossi, the physician of the late prince, had, without directions, proceeded to inspect the body twenty-four hours after death; that he had performed this operation with great negligence, omitting many things which the law presented, which the assisting physicians proposed, and which were essential to render it satisfactory; and finally, that the coats of the stomach, instead of being preserved and submitted to chemical analysis were, according to his own acknowledgment, thrown away. the royal tribunal adjudged him to be deprived of his appointment, and to be banished from the kingdom. this decision would not of course, diminish the suspicion already excited; and among other physicians, who were consulted on the case, m. lodin, professor of medicine at lynkoping, presented two memoirs, in which he stated it as his opinion, that a _slow poison_ of a vegetable nature, and probably analogous to the _aqua tofania_, had been administered to the prince, and that this had caused the apopletic fit of which he died. his reasons were: . that the prince had always enjoyed good health previous to his arrival in sweden, and, indeed, had not been ill, until after eating a cold pie at an inn, in italy. he was shortly after seized with violent vomiting, while the rest of the company experienced no ill effects. . the prince was naturally very temperate. . ever since he arrived in sweden he had experienced a loss of appetite, with cholic and diarrhoea; and . that on dissection, the spleen was found of a black colour and in a state of decomposition, and the liver indurated and dark coloured. whilst during life he had experienced no symptoms corresponding to these appearances. dr. lodin confessed, however, that he was unacquainted with the effects that indicate the administration of a slow poison, but thought the previous symptoms were such as might be expected from it. for the credit of the profession, this conjectural opinion met with decided reprobation from other medical men. it appeared that the prince had, for several days previously, been subject to giddiness and pain in the head, and that all the symptoms were readily referable to a simple case of apoplexy, while the appearances on dissection showed that rapid tendency to putrefaction, which is frequently observed in similar cases. the public are highly indebted to professor beckman for a very elaborate article, in which he has concentrated nearly all that is known concerning _secret poisoning_. of this we shall here present our readers with an abstract, as peculiarly adapted to the demonology of medicine, aided with some facts from other sources. professor beckman considers it unquestionable, that the ancients were acquainted with this kind of poison, and thinks that it may be proved from the testimony of plutarch, quintilian, and other respectable authors. the former states that a slow poison, which occasioned heat, a cough, spitting of blood, a consumption, and weakness of intellect, was administered to aratus of sicyon. theophrastus speaks of a poison prepared from aconite, which could be moderated in such a manner as to have effect in two or three months, or at the end of a year or two years; and he also relates, that thrasyas had discovered a method of preparing from other plants a poison which, given in small doses, occasioned a certain but easy death, without any pain, and which could be kept back for a long time without causing weakness or corruption. the last poison was much used at rome, about two hundred years before the christian era. at a later period, a female named locusta, was the agent in preparing these poisons, and she destroyed, in this way, at the instigation of nero, britannicus, son of agrippina. the carthagenians seem also to have been acquainted with this act of diabolical poisoning; and they are said, on the authority of aulus gellius, to have administered some to regulus, the roman general. contemporary writers, however, it must be added, do not mention this. the principal poisons known to the ancients were prepared from plants, and particularly aconite, hemlock, and poppy, or from animal substances; and among the latter none is more remarkable than that obtained from the sea-hare (_lepus marinus_ or _apylsia depilans_ of the system of nature). with this, titus is said to have been dispatched by domitian. they do not seem to have been acquainted with the common mineral poisons. in the year , during the pontificate of alexander vii, it was observed at rome, that many young women became widows, and that many husbands died when they became disagreeable to their wives. the government used great vigilance to detect the poisoners, and suspicion at length fell upon a society of young wives, whose president appeared to be an old woman, who pretended to foretel future events, and who had often predicted very exactly the death of many persons. by means of a crafty female their practices were detected; the whole society were arrested and put to the torture, and the old woman, whose name was spara, and four others, were publicly hanged. this spara was a sicilian, and is said to have acquired her knowledge from tofania at palermo. tophania, or tofania, was an infamous woman, who resided first at palermo and afterwards at naples. she sold the poison which from her acquired the name of aqua della toffana (it was also called _acquetta di napoli_, or _acquetta_ alone), but she distributed her preparation by way of charity to such wives as wished to have other husbands. from four to six drops were sufficient to destroy a man; and it was asserted, that the dose could be so proportioned as to operate in a certain time. labat says, that tofania distributed her poison in small glass phials, with this inscription--_manna of st. nicholas of bavi_, and ornamented with the image of the saint. she lived to a great age, but was at last dragged from a monastery, in which she had taken refuge, and put to the torture, when she confessed her crimes and was strangled. in no country, however, has the art of poisoning excited more attention than it did in france, about the year . margaret d'aubray, wife of the marquis de brinvillier, was the principal agent in this horrible business. a needy adventurer, named godin de st. croix, had formed an acquaintance with the marquis during their campaigns in the netherlands--became at paris a constant visitor at his house, where in a short time he found means to insinuate himself into the good graces of the marchioness. it was not long before this marquis died; not, however, until their joint fortune was dissipated. her conduct, in openly carrying on this amour, induced her father to have st. croix arrested and sent to the bastile. here he got acquainted with an italian, of the name of exili, from whom he learnt the art of preparing poisons. after a year's imprisonment st. croix was released, when he flew to the marchioness and instructed her in the art, in order that she might employ it in bettering the circumstances of both. she assumed the appearance of a nun, distributed food to the poor, nursed the sick in the hôtel dieu, and tried the strength of her poisons, undetected, on these hapless wretches. she bribed one chaussée, st. croix's servant, to poison her own father, after introducing him into his service, and also her brother, and endeavoured to poison her sister. a suspicion arose that they had been poisoned, and the bodies were opened, but no detection followed at this time. their villainous practices were brought to light in the following manner:--st. croix, when preparing poison, was accustomed to wear a glass mask; but, as this happened once to drop off by accident, he was suffocated and found dead in his laboratory. government caused the effects of this man, who had no family, to be examined, and a list of them to be made out. on searching them, there was found a small box, to which st. croix had affixed a written paper containing a request, that after his death "it might be delivered to the marchioness de brinvillier, who resides in the street neuve st. paul, as every thing it contains concerns her, and belongs to her alone; and as, besides, there is nothing in it that can be of use to any person except her; and in case she shall be dead before me, to burn it, and every thing it contains; without opening or altering any thing; and in order that no one may plead ignorance, i swear by god, whom i adore, and all that is most sacred, that i advance nothing but what is true. and if my intentions, just and reasonable as they are, be thwarted in this point, i charge their consciences with it, both in this world and the next, in order that i may unload mine, protesting that this is my last will. done at paris, this th may, in the afternoon, . _de sainte croix_" nothing could he a greater inducement to have it opened, than this singular petition, and that being done, there was found in it a great abundance of poisons of every kind, with labels, on which their effects proved, by experiments on animals, were marked. the principal poison, however, was corrosive sublimate. when the marchioness heard of the death of her lover and instructor, she was desirous to have the casket, and endeavoured to get possession of it by bribing the officers of justice; but as she failed in this, she quitted the kingdom. la chaussée, however, continued at paris, laid claim to the property of st. croix, was seized and imprisoned, confessed more acts of villainy than was suspected, and was in consequence broke alive upon the wheel, in ,--the marchioness fled to england, and from thence to liege, where she took refuge in a convent. desgrais, an officer of justice, was dispatched in pursuit of her, and having assumed the dress of an abbé, contrived to entice her from this privileged place. among her effects at the convent there was found a confession, and a complete catalogue of all her crimes, in her own hand-writing. she was taken to paris, convicted, and on the th of july, , publicly beheaded, and afterwards burnt. the practice of poisoning was not, however, suppressed by this execution, and it was asserted, that confessions of a suspicious nature were constantly made to the priests. a court for watching, searching after, and punishing prisoners was at length established in , under the title of _chambre de poison_, or _chambre ardente_. this was shortly used as a state engine, against those who were obnoxious to the court, and the names of individuals of the first rank, both male and female, were prejudiced. two females, la vigreux and la voison were burnt alive, by order of this court, in february, . but it was abolished in the same year. professor beckman relates the following, as communicated to him by linnaeus: "charles xi, king of sweden, having ruined several noble families by seizing on their property, and having, after that, made a journey to torneo, he fell into a consumptive disorder, which no medicine could cure. one day he asked his physician in a very earnest manner what was the cause of his illness. the physician replied, 'your majesty has been loaded with too many maledictions.'--'yes,' returned the king, 'i wish to god that the reduction of the nobilities' estates had not taken place, and that i had never undertaken a journey to torneo.' after his death his intestines were found to be full of small ulcers." there has been a great diversity of opinions as to the nature of these poisons. that prepared by tofania appears to have been a clear insipid water, and the sale of aqua fortis was for a long time forbidden in rome, because it was considered the principal ingredient. this, however, is not probable. in paris, the famous _poudre de succession_ (also a secret poison) was at one time supposed to consist of diamond dust, powdered exceedingly fine; and at another time, to contain sugar of lead as the principal ingredient. haller was of this last opinion. in the casket of st. croix were found sublimate, opium, regulus of antimony, vitriol, and a large quantity of poison ready prepared, the principal ingredients of which the physicians were not able to detect. garelli, physician to charles vi, king of the two sicilies, at the time when tofania was arrested, wrote to the celebrated hoffman, that the aqua tofania was nothing else than crystallized arsenic, dissolved in a large quantity of water by decoction, with the addition, (but for what purpose we know not) of the herb _cymbalaria_, (probably the _antirrhinum cymbalaria_). and this information he observes, was communicated to him by his imperial majesty himself, to whom the judicial procedure, confirmed by the confession of the criminal, was transmitted. but it was objected to this opinion, that it differed from the ordinary effects of arsenic, in never betraying itself by any particular action on the human body. the abbé gagliani, on the other hand, asserts that it is a mixture of opium and cantharides, and that the liquor obtained from its composition, is as limpid as rock water, and without taste. its effects are slow, and almost imperceptible. beckman appears to favour this idea, and suggests that a similar poison is used in the east, under the name of _powst_, being water that had stood a night over the juice of poppies. it is given to princes, whom it is wished to despatch privately; and produces loss of strength and understanding, so that they die in the end, torpid and insensible.[ ] the following extract will show that secret poisoning has penetrated into the forests of america. "the celebrated chief, _blackbird_ of the omawhaws, gained great reputation as a medicine man; his adversaries fell rapidly before his potent spells. his medicine was arsenic, furnished him for this purpose by the villainy of the traders."[ ] footnotes: [ ] various etymologies have been suggested for the word obi. mr. long, in a paper transmitted several years since, by the agents of jamaica to the lords of the committee of privy council, and by the latter subjoined to the report on the slave trade, expresses himself on this subject as follows: "from the learned mr. bryant's commentary on the word oph, we obtain a very probable etymology of the term; 'a serpent,' in the egyptian language, was called _aub_ or _ob_." '_obion_,' is still the egyptian name of a serpent.' 'moses, in the name of god, forbids the israelites to inquire of the demon _ob_, which is translated in our bible, charmer or wizzard, _divinator aut sorcilegus_.' the woman of endor is called _oub_ or _ob_, translated pythonissa; and _oubaois_ (he cites horus apollo) was the name of the basilisk or royal serpent, emblem of the sun, and an ancient oracular deity of africa. their etymology, if admitted, connects the modern superstitions of the west of africa, with the ancient ones of the east of that continent, from which source they have also been spread in europe. they are humble parts of the great system which is adorned with the fables of osiris and isis; and they comprise not only the obi of africa, but the witchcraft of our own country. that superstition is every where connected with the worship of the serpent, and with the moon and the cat. skulls and teeth of cats are among the principal ingredients of the african charms or _obies_. [ ] mr. long gives the following account of the furniture of the house of an obi-woman, or african witch in jamaica: "the whole inside of the roof, (which was of thatch) and every crevice of the walls were stuck with the implements of her trade, consisting of rags, feathers, bones of cats, and a thousand other articles. examining further, a large earthen pot or jar, close covered, contained a prodigious quantity of round balls of earth or clay, of various dimensions, large and small, whitened on the outside, and variously compounded, some with hair and rags, or feathers of all sorts, and strongly bound with twine: others blended with the upper section of the skulls of cats, or set round with cats' teeth and claws, or with human or dogs' teeth, and some glass beads of different colours. there were also a great many egg-shells filled with a viscous or gummy substance, the qualities of which were neglected to be examined; and many little bags filled with a variety of articles, the particulars of which cannot, at this distance of time, be recollected." shakespeare and dryden, have left us poetical accounts of the composition of european _obies_ or charms, with which, and with more historical descriptions, the above may be compared. the midnight hours of the professors of obi, are also to be compared with the witches of europe. obi, therefore, is the serpent-worship. the pythoness, at delphos, was an obi-woman. with the serpent-worship is joined that of the sun and moon, as the governors of the visible world, and emblems of the male and female nature of the godhead; and to the cat, on account of her nocturnal prowlings, is ascribed a mysterious relationship to the moon. the dog and the wolf, doubtless for the same reason, are similarly circumstanced. [ ] the superstition of obi was never generally remarked upon in the british west indies till the year , when, after an insurrection in jamaica, of the coromantyn or gold coast negroes, it was found that it had been made an instrument for promoting that disturbance. an old coromantyn negro, the chief instigator and oracle of the insurgents of the parish of st. mary, in which the insurrection broke out, who had administered the _fetiche_ or solemn oath to the conspirators, and furnished them with a magical preparation, which was to make them invulnerable, was at that time apprehended and punished, and a law was enacted for the suppression of the practice, under which several examples were made, but without effecting for many years, any diminution of the evil sought to be remedied. [ ] in kosters's travels in brazil, we read of a negro who was reported by one of his fellows to become occasionally _lobas homen_ or wolf-man. "i asked him," said the author, "to explain; when he said, that the man was at times transformed into an animal, of the size of a calf with the figure of a dog;" and in the african memoranda is an account of a negro who professed and even believed to have the power of transforming himself into an alligator, in which state he devoured men. upon being questioned by captain beaver, he answered, "i can change myself into an alligator, and have often done it." but though these may be genuine african superstitions, and not such as have been introduced by the portuguese, yet it is certain there is no part of europe to which they do not equally belong. [ ] beckman, vol , p. to . [ ] see major long's expedition, vol. . p. . chapter xix. on the origin and superstitious influence op rings. the ancient magicians, among other pretended extraordinary powers of accomplishing wonderful things by their superior knowledge of the secret powers of nature, of the virtues of plants and minerals, and of the motions and influence of the stars, attached no small degree of mystic importance to rings, the origin of which, their matter and uses, together with the supposed virtues of the stones set in them, afford a subject squaring so much with our design, and so deserving of notice from the curious, that no apology need be made for discoursing on them. according to the accounts of the heathen mythologists, prometheus, who, in the first times, had discovered a great number of secrets, having been delivered from the charms, by which he was fastened to mount caucasus for stealing fire from heaven, in memory or acknowledgment of the favour he received from jupiter, made himself of one of those chains, a ring, in whose collet he represented the figure of part of the rock where he had been detained--or rather, as pliny says, set it in a bit of the same rock, and put it on his finger. this was the first ring and the first stone. but we otherwise learn, that the use of rings is very ancient, and the egyptians were the first inventors of them; which seems confirmed by the person of joseph, who, as we read (genesis, chap, xi.) for having interpreted pharoah's dream, received not only his liberty, but was rewarded with his prince's ring, a collar of gold, and the superintendancy of egypt. josephus, in the third book of jewish antiquities says, the israelites had the use of them after passing the red sea, because moses at his return from mount sinai, found that they had forged the golden calf from their wives' rings, enriched with precious stones. the same moses, upwards of years before the wars of troy, permitted the priests he had established, the use of gold rings, enriched with precious stones. the high priest wore upon his ephod, which was a kind of camail, rich rings, that served as clasps; a large emerald was set and engraved with mysterious names. the ring he wore on his finger was of inestimable value and celestial virtue. had not aaron, the high priest of the hebrews, a ring on his finger, whereof the diamond, by its virtues, operated prodigious things? for it changed its vivid lustre into a dark colour, when the hebrews were to be punished by death for their sins. when they were to fall by the sword it appeared of a blood colour; if they were innocent it sparkled as usual. it is observable that the ancient hebrews used rings even in the time of the wars of troy. queen jezebel, to destroy nabath, as it is related in the first book of kings, made use of the ring of ahab, king of the israelites, her husband, to seal the counterfeit letters that ordered the death of that unfortunate man. did not judah, as mentioned in the th chapter of genesis, abuse his daughter-in-law, thamar, who had disguised herself, by giving her his ring and bracelets, as a pledge of the faith he had promised her? though homer is silent in regard to rings, both in his iliad and odyssey, they were, notwithstanding, used in the time of the greeks and trojans; and from them they were received by several other nations. the lacedemonians, as related by alexander, ab. alexandro, pursuant to the orders of their king, lycurgus, had only iron rings, despising those of gold; either their king was thereby willing to retrench luxury, or to prohibit the use of them. the ring was reputed, by some nations, a symbol of liberality, esteem, and friendship, particularly among the persians, none being permitted to wear any, except they were given by the king himself. this is what may also be remarked in the person of apollonius thyaneus, as a token of singular esteem and liberality, received one from the great iarchas, prince of the gymnosophists, who were the ancient priests of india and dwelt in forests, as our ancient bards and druids, where they applied themselves to the study of wisdom, and to the speculation of the heaven and stars. this philosopher, by the means of that ring, learned every day the secrets of nature. though the ring found by gyges, shepherd to the king of lydia, has more of fable than of truth in it, it will not, however, be amiss, to relate what is said concerning herodotus, coelius, after plato and cicero, in the third book of his offices. this gyges, after a great flood, passed into a very deep cavity in the earth, where having found in the belly of a brazen horse, with a large aperture in it, a human body of enormous size, he pulled from off one of the fingers a ring of surprising virtue; for the stone on the collet rendered him who wore it invisible, when the collet was turned towards the palm of the hand, so that the party could see, without being seen, all manner of persons and things. gyges, having made trial of its efficacy, bethought himself that it would be a means for ascending the throne of lydia, and for gaining the queen by it. he succeeded in his designs, having killed candaules, her husband. the dead body this ring belonged to was that of an ancient brahman, who, in his time, was chief of that sect. the rings of the ancients often served for seals. alexander the great, after the death and defeat of darius, used his ring for sealing the letters he sent into asia, and his own for those he sent to europe. it is customary in rome for the bridegroom to send the bride, before marriage, a ring of iron, without either stone or collet, to denote how lasting their union ought to be, and the frugality they were to observe together; but luxury herein soon gained ground, and there was a necessity for moderating it. caius marius did not wear one of gold till his third consulship; and tiberius, as suetonius says, made some regulations in the authority of wearing rings; for, besides the liberty of birth, he required a considerable revenue, both on the father and grandfather's side. in a polyglot dictionary, published in the year , by john minshew, our attention was attracted by the following observations, under the article "ringfinger.--vetus versiculus singulis digitis annulum trebuens miles. mercator. stultus. maritus. amator. pollici adscribitur militi, seu doctor. mercatorem á pollice secundum, stultorum, tertium. nuptorum vel studiosorum quartum. amatorum ultimum." by which it appears, that the fingers on which annuli were anciently worn were directed by the calling, or peculiarity of the party. were it a soldier, or doctor, to him was assigned the thumb. a sailor, the finger next the thumb. a fool, the middle finger. a married or diligent person, the fourth or ring finger. a lover, the last or little finger. the medicinal or curative power of rings are numerous and, as a matter of course, founded on imaginary qualities. thus the wedding ring rubbing upon that little abscess called the stye, which is frequently seen on the tarsi of the eyes, is said to remove it. certain rings are worn as talismans, either on the fingers or suspended from the neck; the efficacy of which may be referred to the effects usually produced by these charms. chapter xx. celestial influences--omens--climacterics--predominations--lucky and unlucky days--empirics, &c. astrologers, among other artifices, have used their best endeavours, and employed all the rules of their art, to render those years of our age, which they call climacterics, dangerous and formidable. the word climacteric is derived from the greek, which means by a scale or ladder, and implies a critical year, or a period in a man's age, wherein, according ficinusological juggling, there is some notable alteration to arise in the body, and a person stands in great danger of death. the first climacteric is the seventh year of a man's life; the others are multiples of the first, as , , , , and , which two last are called the grand climacterics and the danger more certain. the foundation of this opinion is accounted for by mark ficimis as follows:--there is a year, he tells us, assigned for each planet to rule over the body of a man, each of his turn; now saturn being the most _maleficient_ (malignant) planet of all, every seventh year, which falls to its lot, becomes very dangerous; especially those of sixty-three and eighty-four, when the person is already advanced in years. according to this doctrine, some hold every seventh year an established climacteric; but others only allow the title to those produced by multiplication of the climacterical space by an odd number, , , , , &c. others observe every ninth year as a climacteric. climacteric years are pretended, by some, to be fatal to political bodies, which, perhaps, may be granted, when they are proved to be so more than to natural ones; for it must be obvious that the reason of such danger can by no means be discovered, nor the relation it can have with any other of the numbers above mentioned. though this opinion has a great deal of antiquity on its side; aulus gellius says--it was borrowed from the chaldeans, who possibly might receive it from pythagoras, whose philosophy teemed much in numbers, and who imagined a very extraordinary virtue in the number . the principal authors on climacterics are--plato, cicero, macrobius, aulus gellius. among the ancients--argal, magirus, and solmatheus. among the moderns--st. augustine, st. ambrose, beda and boethius, all countenance the opinion. there is a work extant, though rather scarce, by hevelius, under the title of _annus climactericus_, wherein he describes the loss he sustained by his observatory, &c. being burnt; which it would appear happened in his grand climacteric, of which he was extremely apprehensive. astrologers have also brought under their inspection and controul the days of the year, which they have presumed to divide into _lucky_ and _unlucky_ days; calling even the sacred scriptures, and the common belief of christians, in former ages, to their assistance for this purpose. they pretend that the fourteenth day of the first month was a blessed day among the israelites, authorised, as they pretend, by the several passages out of exodus, v. :-- "in the first _month_, on the fourteenth day of the month at even, ye shall eat unleavened bread, until the one and twentieth day at even," v. . now, the sojourning of the children of israel, who dwelt in egypt, was four hundred and thirty years. . "and it came to pass, at the end of the four hundred and thirty years, even the self same day it came to pass, that all the hosts of the lord went out from the land of egypt." . "it is a night to be much observed unto the lord for bringing them out of the land of egypt; that is that night of the lord to be observed of all the children of israel, in their generations." . "and it came to pass, the self same day, that the lord did bring the children of israel out of the land of egypt by their armies." also _leviticus, chap. , v. ._ "in the fourteenth day of the first month at even, is the lord's passover." _numbers, chap. , v. ._ "four hundred and thirty years being expired of their dwelling in egypt, even in the self same day they departed thence." with regard to evil days and times, astrologers refer to _amos. chap. , v. ._ "therefore, the prudent shall keep silence in that time, for it is an evil time," and _chap. , v. _, "ye that put far away the evil day, and cause the seat of violence to come near;" also _psalm , v. _, "they shall not be ashamed in the evil time; and in the days of famine, they shall be satisfied;" and _jeremiah, chap. , v. _, "also her hired men are in the midst of her, like fatted bullocks, for they are also turned back and are fled away together; they did not stand because the day of their calamity was come upon them, and the time of their visitation." and to _job_ cursing the day of his birth, from the first to the eleventh verse. in confirmation of which may also be quoted a calendar, extracted out of several ancient roman catholic prayer books, written on vellum, before printing was invented, in which were inserted the unfortunate days of each month, which it would be superfluous to cite here.[ ] roman history sufficiently proves that the nature of lucky and unlucky days owes its origin to paganism; where it is mentioned, that that very day four years, the civil wars were begun by pompey, the father; caesar made an end of them with his son, cneius pompeius being slain; and that the romans counted the th of february an unlucky day, because, on that day they were overthrown by the gauls at alba; and the fabii attacking the city of the recii, were all slain, with the exception of one man; also from the calendar of ovid's "fastorum," _aprilis erat mensis graecis auspicatissimus_; and from horace, book nd, ode , cursing the tree that had nearly fallen upon it; _ille nefasto posuit die_. the pagans believed there were particular months and days which carried something fatal in them; those, for instance, upon which the state perhaps had lost a great battle; and under this impression, they never undertook any enterprise on these days and months. the twenty-fourth of february in the bisextile years was considered so unlucky, that valentinian (_ammiam. marcell. lib. . cap. ._) being elected emperor upon it, durst not appear in public under the apprehension of suffering the fatality of the day. many other particular days might be quoted upon which generals of armies have constantly been favoured with fortune. timoleon (_corn. nepos_) won all his famous battles on his birthday. soliman (_duverdier. hist. des turcs_) won the battle of mohac, and took the fortress of belgrade, and, according to some historians, the isle of rhodes, and the town of buda on the th of august. but we find, in like manner, the same day lucky and unlucky to the same people. ventidius, at the head of the roman army, routed the parthians, and slew their young king pacorus who commanded them, on the same day that crassus, another roman general, had been slain, and his whole army cut in pieces by the same people. lucullus having attacked tigranes, king of armenia, notwithstanding the vain scruples of his officers, who desired him to beware fighting on that day, which was noted in the roman calendar as an unlucky one, ever since the fatal overthrow of the romans by the cimbri; but he, (lucullus) despising the superstition, gained one of the most memorable battles recorded in roman history, and changed the destiny of the day as he promised those who would have dissuaded him from the enterprise. and valentinian's unlucky day was that on which charles v, another roman emperor, promised himself the best good fortune. friday is deemed on unlucky day for engaging in any particular business, and there are few, if any, captains of ships who would sail from any port, on this day of the week for their destination. the fishermen who dwell on the coasts of the baltic never use their nets between all-saints and st martin's; they would then be certain of not taking any fish through the whole year: they never fish on st blaise's day. on ash wednesday the women neither sew nor knit, for fear of bringing misfortune upon their cattle. they contrive so as not to use fire on st. laurence's day; by taking this precaution they think themselves secure against fire for the rest of the year. this prejudice of lucky and unlucky days has existed at all times and in all nations; but if knowledge and civilization have not removed it, they have at least diminished its influence. in livonia, however, the people are more than ever addicted to the most superstitious ideas on this subject. in a riga journal (_rigaische stadblatter_, no. , anno , edited by m. sontag) there are several passages relative to a letter from heaven, and which is no other than a catalogue of lucky and unlucky days. this letter is in general circulation; every body carries it about him, and though strictly forbidden by the police, the copies are multiplied so profusely as to increase the evil all attempts to destroy which have hitherto failed. among the country people this idea is equivalent to the doctrine of fatality; and if they commit faults or even crimes, on the days which are marked as unlucky, they do not consider themselves as guilty, because they were predestined. the flight of certain birds, or the meeting of certain animals on their first going out in the morning, are with them good or bad omens. they do not hunt on st. mark's, or st. catherine's day, on penalty of being unsuccessful all the rest of the year. it is a good sign to sneeze on christmas day. most of them are so prepossessed against friday, that they never settle any important business, or conclude a bargain on that day; in some places they do not even dress their children. they do not like visits on thursdays, for it is a sign they shall have troublesome guests the whole week. in some districts of esthonia, up the baltic, when the shepherd brings his flocks back from the pasture, in spring for the first time, he is sprinkled with water from head to foot under the persuasion that this makes the cattle thrive. the malignity of beasts of prey is believed to be prevented by designating them not by their proper names, but by some of their attributes. for instance, they call the fox _hallkuhl_ (grey coat) the bear, _layjatyk_ (broad-foot), etc. etc. they also fancy that they can oblige the wolf to take another direction by strewing salt in his way. the howling of wolves, especially at day-break, is considered a very bad omen, predicting famine or disease. in more ancient times, it was imagined that these animals, thus asked their god to give them food, which he threw them out of the clouds. when a wolf seizes any of their cattle, they can oblige him to quit his prey, by dropping a piece of money, their pipe, hat, or any other article they have about them at the time. they do not permit the hare to be often mentioned, for fear of drawing it into their corn-fields. to make hens lay eggs, they beat them with an old broom. in families where the wife is the eldest child of her parents, it has been observed that they always sell the first calves, being convinced, that, if kept, they would not thrive. to speak of insects or mischievous animals at meal-times, is a sure way to make them more voracious. if a fire breaks out, they think to stop its fury by throwing a black hen into the flames. this idea, of an expiatory sacrifice, offered to a malevolent and tutelary power, is a remnant of paganism. various other traces of it are found among the esthonians; for instance, at the beginning of their meals, they purposely let fall a piece of new bread, or some drops of liquor from a bottle as an offering to the divinity. it is very offensive to the peasants, for any one to look into their wells; they think it will cause the wells to dry up. when manna is carried into the fields, that which falls from the cart is not gathered up, lest mischievous insects and blights come upon the corn. when an old house is quitted for a new one they are attentive in noting the first animal that dies. if it be an animal with hairy feet, the sign is good; but if with naked feet, some fowl, for instance, there will be mourning in the house; it is a sign of misery and bad success in all their undertakings. these, with a scrupulous adherence to lucky and unlucky days, are the prevailing popular superstitions in the three duchies; a great number of which, especially among the esthonians, are connected with their ancient mythology. in reading that pleasant volume, by the late sir humphrey davy, entitled _salmonia_, it is impossible not to be struck with his remark respecting omens, which is here briefly noticed, with an account of others, which it is imagined have not yet found their way far into print, in order to account for such seeming absurdities. "the search after food,[ ] as we agreed on a former occasion, is the principal cause why animals change their places. the different tribes of wading birds always migrate when rain is about to take place; and i remember once in italy, having been long waiting, in the end of march, for the arrival of double snipe, in the campagna of rome; a great flight appeared on the third of april, and the day after, heavy rain set in, which greatly interfered with my sport. the vulture, upon the same principle, follows armies; and i have no doubt that the augury of the ancients was a good deal founded upon the observation of the instinct of birds. there are many superstitions of the vulgar owing to the same source. for anglers, in spring, it is always unluckly to see single magpies; but two may always be regarded as a favourable omen; and the reason is, that in cold and stormy weather, one magpie alone leaves the nest in search of food, the other remaining sitting upon the eggs of the young ones: but, when two go out together, it is only when the weather is mild and warm, and favourable for fishing. "this reasoning will, in general, be found correct, and may be applied to solve many of the superstitions in the country; but the case of the magpie is entitled to a little more consideration. the piannet, as we call her in the north of england, is the most unlucky of all birds, to see singly at any time; this, however, does not often happen, except a short time during incubation; they either appear in pairs or in families; but even this last appearance is as alarming to our grandmothers. the following distich shows what each forbodes:--'one sorrow, two mirth, three a wedding, four death.' this bird, indeed, appears to have taken the same place with us, as an omen of evil, that the owl had amongst the ancients. the nurse is often heard to declare that she has lost all hopes of her charge when she has observed a piannet on the house-top. "another prejudice, indulged even by our good wives, is that of destroying the feathers of the pigeon instead of saving them to stuff beds, etc. they say, that if they were to do so, it would only prolong the sufferings of the death-bed; and when these are more than usually severe, it is attributed to this cause, and the reason given 'because the bird has no gall' is to them quite conclusive, but to me, perfectly irrelevant and unsatisfactory. a belief amongst boys, that to harm or disturb the nests of the redbreast or swallow is unlucky, appears very general throughout the kingdom; and the keen bird-nester, who prides himself on the quantity of eggs blown and strung bead-fashion, here often gets mortified by finding his trophies destroyed by the housewife who considers their presence as affecting the safety of her crokery ware. this belief may have been encouraged, if not invented, for a humane purpose: but how are we to account for the efficacy of the irish stone in curing swellings caused by venomous reptiles, by merely being rubbed upon the part affected? the fullest faith in the practice appears to have prevailed in the country at no distant period, and is yet far from extinct. the swallow and the cuckoo are generally hailed as harbingers of spring and summer, but, perhaps, many of our readers are not aware that it is only lucky to hear the cuckoo, for the first time in the season, upon soft ground in contradistinction to hard roads, and with money in the pocket, which the youngster is sagely advised to be sure then to turn over. perhaps the season of the year may satisfactorily explain all these observances. several superstitious customs are mentioned regarding bees, some of which are not practised in the north; yet it is fully believed that the death of the stock of hives too often foretells the flitting of the bee-master. wet cold years, unfavourable to the insects, are also equally so to the farmer upon thin clays, which border the moors, where bees are mostly kept. has the use of the mountain ash, 'rowan tree' [pyrus aucuparia, _gaertner_,] as a charm against witchcraft, ever been accounted for? the belief in its efficacy must be very old if we are to credit some of shakspeare's commentators, who give this word as the true reading in macbeth, instead of 'aroint thee, witch!' "it often happens that the careless observer has, for the first time, his attention called forcibly to some appearance of nature by accidental circumstances: if at all superstitious, he immediately prognosticates the most disastrous consequences from that which a little observation would have convinced him was but a phenomenon a little more conspicuous than usual. the northern lights are said to have caused much consternation when first observed; and they have lately been viewed with more than ordinary interest, as it appears from the _newcastle chronicle_, the last autumn ( ), when they were more than usually brilliant, some of the inhabitants of weardale were convinced they saw, on one occasion, very distinctly, the figure of a man on a white horse, with a red sword in his hand, move across the heavens; and are, no doubt, now certain that it foretold the present eventful times. even this belief may be accounted for on such accidental coincidences, or even philosophically, by assuming as a fact that this phenomenon is the result of an electrical change in the atmosphere, and that such a change usually precedes rain. now, if such happen in spring or in summer, and before such a quantity of rain as is found to affect the harvest, it may too often betoken scarcity, discontent, and turbulence, as such are the times when all grievances, either real or imaginary, are brought forward for redress. the origin of the superstition of sailors, of nailing a horse-shoe to the mast, is to me unaccountable, unless it may have been, like the following trial of the credulity of the superstitious by some person for amusement:--sailors sometimes make a considerable pecuniary sacrifice for the acquisition of a child's caul, the retaining of which is to infallibly preserve them from drowning. "some years ago, a pretty wide district was alarmed by an account of the beans [fàba vulgàris var. equina] being laid the wrong way in the pod that year, which most certainly foreboded something terrible to happen in a short time, and this produced much consternation amongst those who allow their imaginations to run riot. the whole of the terrible omen was this: the eye of the bean was in the pod towards the apex, instead of being towards the footstalk, as might appear at first sight to be its natural position; and some were scarcely convinced that this was the natural position of the beans in the pod ever since the creation, even on being shown the pod of the preceding year with the seed in the same position. "as yet, however, i fear we must sum up in the words of davy:-- "_phys._ but how can you explain such absurdities as friday being an unlucky day, and the terror of spilling salt, or meeting an old woman? "_poiet_. these, as well as the omens of death-watches, dreams, etc. are founded upon some accidental coincidences; but spilling of salt, on an uncommon occasion, may, as i have known it, arise from a disposition to apoplexy, shown by an incipient numbness in the hand, and may be a fatal symptom; and persons dispirited by bad omens sometimes prepare the way for evil fortune, for confidence of success is a great means of insuring it. the dream of brutus before the battle of philippi probably produced a species of irresolution and despondency which was the principal cause of his losing the battle; and i have heard that the illustrious sportsman, to whom you referred just now, was always observed to shoot ill, because he shot carelessly, after one of his dispiriting omens. "_hal._ i have in life met with a few things which i have found it impossible to explain, either by chance coincidences, or by natural connections, and i have known minds of a very superior class affected by them--persons in the habit of reasoning deeply and profoundly." the number of remarkable events that happened on some particular days, have been the principal means of confirming both pagans and christians in their opinions on this subject. for instance, alexander who was born on the sixth of april, conquered darius, and died on the same day. the emperor basianus caracalla was born, and died on the sixth day of april. augustus was adopted on the th of august, began his consulate, conquered the triumviri, and died the same day. the christians have observed that the th of february was four times fortunate to charles the fifth. that wednesday was a fortunate day to pope sixtus the fifth; for on a wednesday he was born, on that day made a monk, on the same day made a general of his order, on that day created a cardinal, on that day elected pope, and also on that day inaugurated. that thursday was a fatal day to henry the eighth, king of england, and his posterity, for he died on a thursday; king edward the sixth on a thursday; queen mary on a thursday; and queen elizabeth on a thursday. the french have observed that the feast of pentecoste had been lucky to henry iii, king of france for on that day he was born, on that day elected king of poland, and on that day he succeeded his brother charles ix, on the throne of france. there are critical days observed by physicians, in continued fevers, a doctrine which has been confirmed by the united testimony of de haen and cullen; and these are the rd. th. th. th. th. th. th. and th. by critical days are meant, any of the above days, on which the fever abates or terminates favourably, or on which it is exacerbated or terminates fatally. natural astrology is confined to the study of exploring natural effects, in which sense it is admitted to be a part of natural philosophy. it was under this view that mr. goad, mr. boyle, and dr. mead, pleaded for its use. the first endeavours to account for the diversity of seasons from the situations, habitudes and motions of the planets: and to explain an infinity of phenomena by the contemplation of the stars. the honourable mr. boyle admitted, that all physical bodies are influenced by the heavenly bodies; and doctor mead's opinion, in his treatise concerning the power of the sun and moon, etc. is in favour of the doctrine. but these predictions and influences are ridiculed and entirely exploded by the most esteemed modern philosophers, of which the reader may have a learned specimen in rohault's, tractat. physic, part ii. c. . the diseases of men, women, and children were supposed at times to be more immediately caused by the influence of the seven planets. in order to comprehend this exploded doctrine, we shall here set down the pretended governing and days, at what time they are supposed to have the most influence: [symbol: sol] sol, or the sun governs on sunday. [symbol: luna] luna, or the moon, monday. [symbol: mars] mars, tuesday. [symbol: mercury] mercury, wednesday. [symbol: jupiter] jupiter, thursday, [symbol: venus] venus. friday. [symbol: saturn] saturn, saturday. saturn reigning, is said to cause cold diseases, as the gout, leprosy, palsy, quartan agues, dropsies, catarrhs, colds, rheumatisms, etc. jupiter causes cramps, numbness, inflammations of the liver, head-aches, pains in the shoulders, flatulency, inflammatory fevers, and all diseases caused by putrefaction, apoplexy, and quinsies. mars, acute fevers and tartan agues, continual and intermitting fevers, imposthumes, erisepelas, carbuncles, fistulas, dysentery, and similar hot and dry diseases. sol causes rheums in the eyes, coldness in the stomach and liver, syncope, catarrhs, pustular eruptions, hysterics, eruptions on the lower extremities. venus causes sores, lientery, hysteria, sickness at the stomach, from cold and moist causes, disorders of the liver and lungs. mercury causes hoarseness and distempers in the senses, impediments in the speech, falling sickness, coughs, jaundice, vomiting, catarrhs. the moon causes palsy, cholic, dropsy, imposthumes, dysenteries, and all diseases arising from obstructed circulation. the means laid down for the prevention of these diseases are rational enough, at least some of them, such as temperance, moderate bleeding (whether or not indicated we are not told,) the use of laxatives at seasonable times, when a friendly planet, opposite to the malignant planet you were born under, has dominion, by which the effect of its influence will be much abated, and a power given to nature to oppose its malevolency, which, "if well heeded, may be a main prevention of dangerous diseases." thus every planet in the heavens carries with it a diseased aspect, without, as it would appear, possessing any repelling or sanative powers to correct or ward off the sickly influence it is supposed to entertain over the life and limbs of frail mortals; that, in the sense of this absurd doctrine, or rather jargon, when jupiter has dominion, it will be necessary to bleed and take calomel to guard against (not to attack it when it has taken place) inflammation of the liver; and when mars presides, to send immediately for van butchel to frighten away an imaginary fistula--absurd and ridiculous nonsense, too prevalent even at the present day; for what can bleeding and physicking at the spring and fall of the year be called but operations without reason, under suppositious stellar influence. "observe also to gather all your physic herbs in the hour of the friendly planet, that temporises with what you were born under, and in so doing they will have more strength, power, and virtue to operate in the medicines; but neither physic nor bleed on the third of january, the last of april, the first of july, the first of august, and the last and second day of october; for those astrologers, with whom physicians join, conclude it perilous, by reason of the bad influence then reigning; and if it change not the distemper into another worse, it will augment it, and put the party in great danger of death, _if he or she in this case be not lucky to escape_." it would be a waste of words to offer a single comment on such egregious stuff--"do not bleed on the third of january," nor on such and such a day, (as if there could be stated times for bleeding beyond those which are indicated by the presence of disease, and requiring such evacuation,) is a practice we believe peculiar only to astrologers, and those who believe in such demonological cant. it is no less, however, a singular fact that men distinguished in every other respect for their learning, should most particularly have indulged in the superstition of judicial astrology. at the present time a belief in such subjects can only exist with those who may be said to have no belief at all; for mere traditional sentiments can hardly be said to amount to a belief. it was astronomy that gave rise to judicial astrology, which, offering an ample field to enthusiasm and imposture, was eagerly pursued by many who had no scientific purpose in view. it was connected with various juggling tricks and deceptions, affected an obscure jargon of language, and insinuated itself into every thing in which the hopes and fears of mankind were concerned. the professors of this pretended science were at first generally persons of mean education, in whom low cunning supplied the place of knowledge. most of them engaged in the empirical practice of physic, and some through the credulity of the times, even arrived at a degree of eminence in it; yet although the whole foundation of their art was folly and deceit, they nevertheless gained many proselytes and dupes, both among the well-informed and the ignorant. about the middle of the seventeenth century, the passion for horoscopes and expounding the stars prevailed in france among people of the first rank. the new-born child was usually presented naked to the star-expounder, who read the first lineaments on its forehead, and the transverse lines in its hands, and thence wrote down its future destiny. it has been reported of several persons famous for their astrological skill, that they have suffered a voluntary death merely to verify their own predictions. it is curious to observe the shifts to which these wise men were frequently put when their predictions were not verified. great winds at one time were predicted by a famous adept in the art, but no unusual storms having happened, to save the reputation of the art, the prediction was applied figuratively to some revolutions in the state, of which there were instances enough at that time. the life of the famous lilly the astrologer, and the sidrophel of butler, written by himself, is a curious work, containing much artless narrative, but at the same time, so much palpable imposture, that it is difficult to know when he is speaking what he really believes to be the truth. in a sketch of the state of astrology in his day, the adepts whose characters he has drawn were the lowest miscreants of the town. they all, indeed, speak of each other as rogues and impostors; among whom were booker, george wharton, and gadbury, who gained a livelihood by practising on the credulity of even men of learning so late as to the th century. in ashmole's life an account of these artful impostors may be read. most of them had taken the air in the pillory, and others had conjured themselves up to the gallows. to the astrologers of the th century, the quacks and impostors of the beginning of the th are only equal. quackery and astrology, the latter of which often served as a mask to the former, appear to have been at one time a kind of castor and pollux; quackery, however, it would seem has outlived astrology, for there are more who would swallow the nostrum of the quack than the flatulent bolus of the fortune-tellers. both still have their votaries. one grigg, a poulterer in surrey, was set in the pillory at croyden, (temp. edw. iv,) and again in the borough, for cheating people out of their money by pretending to cure them with charms, by simply looking at the patients, or by practices still more absurd and questionable. of such doctors there is no lack. this kind of practice offers one of the finest fields for deception of any species of empirical delusion held out to the public at the present day. such indeed is the infatuation and credulity of the ignorant that, we are confidently assured, a notorious german quack had within one year so many half-guinea applications that he netted £ ; and that the glass bottles in which the precious nostrums were conveyed from the sanctum sanctorum of the mendacious empiric in high germany, who made his debut in this country by hawking about dutch drops, amounted to as many two-pences. to those of either sex, who are weak-minded enough to trust their lives to the rash artifices of an ignorant pretender who affects to discover an occult quality in the constitution of the patient denoting the existence of some internal complaint beyond that which less equivocal symptoms sufficiently present to the eye and knowledge of the regular practitioner--we can only say that we conceive them to be justly punished in the loss of their money, and the consequent ruin of their health. in stow's chronicle we find that one of these said gentlemen was set on horseback, his face towards the tail, which he held in his hand in the manner of a bridle, while with a collar significative of his offence, dangling about his neck, he made a public entrée into the city of london, conducted by jack ketch, who afterwards did himself the honour of scourging and branding the impostor, previous to banishment, which completed his sentence. in the reign of james i, a terrible sweep was made among the quacks and advertising gentry. the council dispatched a warrant to the magistrates of the city of london, to take up all reputed quacks, and bring them before the censors of the college, to examine how properly qualified they were to be trusted, either with the limbs or lives of his majesty's lieges. this is all that is required at the present day. let the legislature controul this department instead of the college of physicians, who, as a body, can boast of as large an allowance of licensed ignorance as any corporate set of men in existence. we say nothing of surgery, for this branch of knowledge leaves the world generally something to look at, hence so few pretenders to it; but physic buries all its blemishes with the unfortunate victim. the country, even in this age of progressing wisdom, is deluged with quack medicines, which credulous people say are not directed against the constitution, but only against the pocket, and that they are too insipid to do either good or harm; but were this the case, there would have been no occasion for the exemplary punishments with which it is recorded quacks of all sorts have at various times been visited. be it known, there can be no such thing invented by man as an universal remedy to prevent or cure all kinds of diseases; because that which would agree with one constitution would disagree with another differently organised; and a quack nostrum, such as we see daily advertised, may certainly agree at one stage of a disease, but might go far in killing the patient at another. besides, all these boasted specifics have been found to be either inert, ineffectual, or dangerous, and every pretender to them, in times less enlightened by the general march of intellect, has been convicted either of gross ignorance or dishonesty. no one can vouch with certainty for any particular kind of medicine,--that it will agree with this or that individual, until acquainted with his peculiar constitution; consequently it is the height of absurdity to prescribe physic for a man without a knowledge of such circumstances to direct him. amulets, talismans, charms, and incantations, are innocent and innoxious, and may impose only on credulity without any other untoward consequence, leaving the patient in the same state in which he was found; but so much cannot be said for quacks and quack-medicines which frequently remove their deluded victims far beyond the reach of either physic or philosophy. butler is said to be the author of the following character of a quack; and who can read it without being astonished at the prophetic intelligence with which it abounds, and which, unfortunately, admits of a too close analogy with some very recent and untoward events, in the annals of modern empiricism. "he is a medicine-monger, probationer of receipts, and doctor epidemic; he is perpetually putting his medicines upon their trial, and very often finds them guilty of manslaughter, but still they have some trick or other to come off, and avoid burning by the hand of the hangman. he prints his trials of skill, and challenges death at so many several weapons; that, though he is sure to be foiled by every one, he cares not: for, _if he can but get money, he is sure to get off_; for it is but posting up diseases for poltroons in all the public places of the town, and daring them to meet him again, and his credit stands as fair with the rabble, as ever it did. he makes nothing * * * * * * * * * * *;--but will undertake to cure them and tie one hand behind him, with so much ease and freedom, that his patients may surfeit and get drunk as often as they please, and follow their business without any inconvenience to their health or occasions; and recover with so much secrecy, that they shall never know how it comes about. he professes "no cure no pay," as well he may, for if nature does the work, he is paid for it; if not, he neither wins nor loses; and like a cunning rook lays his bets so artfully, that, let the chance be what it will, he either wins or saves. he cheats the rich for their money, and the poor for charity, and, if either succeed, both are pleased, and he passes for a very just and conscientious man: for as those that pay nothing ought at least to speak well of their entertainments, their testimony makes way for those who are able to pay for both. he finds he has no reputation among those that know him, and fears he is never like to have, and, therefore, posts up his bills, to see if he can thrive better amongst those who know nothing of him. he keeps his post continually, and will undertake to maintain it against all the plagues of egypt. he sets up his trade upon a pillar, or the corner of a street--these are his warehouses, where all he has is to be seen, and a great deal more; for he that looks further finds nothing at all." absurdities of paracelsus, and van helmont. although some of the first chemists were men of sense and learning, yet after that chemistry began to be fashionable and much in vogue, there were some of its professors, who although men of an uncommon turn of genius, were as great enthusiasts, both in the chemical and medical arts, as any other men ever were in religion. they not only pretended to transmute some of the baser metals into gold, contrary to the nature of things--and if they could have succeeded in that impossible work, it would have rendered gold as plentiful, cheap, and less valuable than iron, because it is less fit for instruments and mechanical uses--but they also pretended infallibly to cure all diseases, by some of their new invented chemical machines;--a thing equally as impossible as the other, and shewed their ignorance of the causes and nature of diseases. as those who are the most ignorant are generally the greatest boasters, we find that none of them were more so, than that vain, boasting, paradoxical enthusiast paracelsus, who had acquired great riches by curing a certain disease with a mercurial ointment, the knowledge of which secret he is said to have stolen from jacobus berengarius, of caipo, in his travels thither. he was withal so illiterate, that he said philosophy could be taught in no language but high dutch; but the true reason was, that he neither understood philosophy nor any other language. he also boasted that he was in possession of a nostrum which would prolong man's life to the age of methusaleh, though he died himself at the age of forty-seven. he lived in the fifteenth century. the cures he wrought were deemed so surprising in that age, that he was supposed to have recourse to supernatural aid. in a picture of him at lumley castle, he is represented in a close black gown, with both hands on a great sword, on whose hilt is inscribed the word azot. this was the name of his _familiar_ spirit, that he kept imprisoned in the pummel, to consult on emergent occasions. the circumstance is thus alluded to by butler:-- bombastes kept the devil's bird shut in the pummel of his sword; and taught him all the cunning pranks, of past and future mountebanks. paracelsus was succeeded by his scholar van helmont, who had much more learning, but was as great an enthusiast, both in the chemical and medical arts as his master, and embraced most of his paradoxical opinions; and, having more technical terms, he frequently used them rather to dazzle and confound the understandings of his readers, than to inform their judgments. by thus giving his writings a mystical air of wisdom, he rendered them obscure, and sometimes unintelligible; consequently, more easily imposed them upon the public and vulgar, as sublime and useful truths. he also vainly boasted that he could cure any fever in four days' time, by sweating the patient with one draught of his famous nostrum, the _praecipitatus diaphoreticus paracelsi_; and further adds, "that no man can deserve the name of a physician, who cannot cure any fever in four days' time." he, however, admits, that he sometimes added a little theriaca (treacle) and wine to it; which last, he says, "is not only a great cordial, but as a vehicle, is a proper messenger to be sent on such an errand, as it knows the road, is well received wherever it goes, and readily admitted into the most private apartments of the human body." hence we believe that wine is not only a good natured, but an intelligent being; though it sometimes deprives men of their senses for a time, when they take too much of it: and hence we see also a specimen of our author's method of reasoning and writing. van helmont, like his great master, also boasted, that he could cure all inflammatory and other fevers, and even a pleurisy, without either bleeding, vomiting, purging, clysters, or blisters; and he quarrelled so much with the two last, that he calls clysters "a beastly remedy," and says that blisters were invented by a wicked spirit, whom he calls moloz, though beelzebub might have been as good a name, since dr. baynard wittily observed, that he believed he was only a great cantharid. and both helmont and the doctor were so far right, that blistering was then, as well as now, much abused; and in truth they are much oftener applied than is either necessary or useful. thus these two eminent chemists, and too many of their followers, frequently imposed their writings upon the unguarded reader, and themselves upon the vulgar, for men of profound knowledge in the medical art, and as great adepts in chemistry: and being puffed up with the high opinion entertained of their new art, or new medicines, and their own great wisdom, they rejected the philosophical theory of medicine by galen and avicenna, then so much in vogue. they were right in doing this, and might have done great service to mankind, if they had not set up their own imaginary chemical theory in its place, which was neither founded upon observations, nature, nor reason, and had no existence but in their own vain imaginations. thus they supposed a malignity which caused all diseases, as well inflammatory as other fevers, and which was to be forced out of the body by sweating, with their hot therapeutics; they, therefore, attacked all fevers with this chemical ammunition, and attempted to carry them with fire and storm, prescribing the praecipitatus diaphoreticus and sweating regimen, which must have been fatal to many, and no doubt would have been so to many more, if van helmont had not allowed his patients to dilute the medicine with a thin diet, which rendered the calorific method less fatal. but, as the learned dr. friend judiciously remarks, if any did escape after that hot regimen, it was through a fiery trial. thus the chemists, without any rational theory, or regard to nature, and what she indicated or did;--without duly considering how the morbid matter, which caused the disease, was to be concocted and fitted to be carried off by some critical evacuation; or how to assist nature to bring that crisis on, according to the hippocratic method;--without considering the benefit of the rational, cooling, antiphlogistic practice of the arabians--they introduced their sudorific regimen instead; and this regimen was soon after brought into use in england, and most other countries, where it continued to be the practice for many years afterwards, as may be seen by the authors of those times, until the judicious and honest dr. sydenham wisely rejected and exploded it, introducing the rational method of hippocrates and the cooling regimen of the arabians, which he seems rather to have taken _ex ipsa re et ratione_ from nature and reason, than from the works of the arabian physicians, with which he appears not to have been acquainted, as he never mentions them. van helmont had several other famous nostrums, with which he pretended to perform wonders, as quacks have done in all ages, and as some do now: for empiricism was never more in fashion than at the present day, and the chemical art has supplied them with many more arcana and nostrums than the ancients had in all their antidotes and theriacas, etc. since chemistry was made subservient to medicine. van helmont, nevertheless was a learned man, and acquired a great name and reputation, at least for some time; but, as neither his theory nor his practice were founded on nature and reason, nor conformable to them, the more judicious physicians soon saw their errors, as well as the fallacy of his new invented chemical terms and unmeaning phrases, which only contained the shadow and not the substance of the medical science; therefore both his chemical theory and hot regimen, together with his writings, sunk soon after his death, into a state of merited oblivion. notwithstanding that the science of chemistry was greatly improved by these extraordinary men, who invented or discovered many useful remedies, which they introduced into the practice of medicine in a no less extraordinary manner, and thereby pointed out the way for others to follow them; yet we must allow that the more able and learned chemists have greatly enriched and improved the materia medica since, by making many curious experiments, and thereby discovering several new and very efficacious medicines, not only from the semi-metals, mercury and antimony, and the various chemical preparations from them, but from the more perfect metals, and some other mineral bodies, as well as from a great variety of remedies which are prepared both from vegetable and animal substances, as salts, oils, essences, spirits, tinctures, elixirs, extracts and many more needless here to be mentioned, but all of which are known to physicians. for all these we are indebted to the chemists who first invented and introduced them into practice; although the use and application, as well as the methods of administering them to the sick, to cure various other diseases than those they were first used for, has been greatly improved by several learned and ingenious physicians. footnotes: [ ] see demonologia, by j.s.f. p. . [ ] see magazine of natural history, april, . chapter xxi. modern empiricism. in one respect we have but very little occasion to extol our own enlightened age at the expence of those ages which are so frequently and justly termed _dark_. we allude to the bold and artful designs of imposture, and particularly _medical imposture_. daily are seen illiterate and audacious empirics sporting with the lives of a credulous public, that seem obstinately resolved to shut their ears against all the suggestions of reason and experience. the host of empirics, mountebanks, and self-dubbed hygeists, which infest the metropolis, and the tinctures, cordials, pills, balms, and essences, so much extolled by their retailers, and swallowed by the public, are indeed so many proofs of the credulity of the age, that to say the least, the march of intellect has evidently made a _faux-pas_ in this direction. the celestial beds, the enchanting magnetic powers introduced into this country by messmer, a german quack, and his numerous disciples, the prevailing indifference to all dietetic precepts, the singular imposition practised on many females, in persuading them to wear the inert acromatic belts, the strange infatuation of the opulent in paying five guineas for a pair of _metallic tractors_, not worth sixpence, the tables for blood-letting, and other absurdities still inserted in popular almanacs, (against all the rules of common sense)--all these yield in nothing to the absurdities and superstitious notions conveyed through the medium of astrology, dreams, and other ludicrous though by far more imposing and interesting channels. the temple of the gulls is now thronged with votaries as much as that of superstition formerly was; human reason is still a slave to the most tyrannical prejudices; and certainly, there is no ready way to excite general attention and admiration, than to deal in the mysterious and the marvellous. the visionary system of jacob böhman has latterly been revived in some parts of germany. the ghosts and apparitions which had disappeared from the times of thomasius and swedenborg, have again left their graves, to the great terror of fanaticism. new prophets announce their divine mission, and, what is worse, find implicit believers! the _inventors_ of _secret_ medicines are rewarded by patents, and obtain no small celebrity; while some of the more conscientious, but less fortunate adepts, endeavour to amuse the public with popular systems of medicine. one of the most dazzling and successful inventors in modern times, was messmer, who commenced his career of medical knight-errantry at vienna. his house was the focus of high life, the rendezvous of the gay, where the young and opulent were enlivened and entertained with continual concerts, routs, and illuminations. at a great expence, he imported into germany the first _harmonica_ from this country: he established cabinets of natural curiosities, and laboured constantly and secretly in his chemical laboratory; so that he acquired the reputation of being a great alchemist, a philosopher studiously employed in the most useful and important researches. in , he first publicly announced the object and nature of his secret labours:--all his discoveries centered in the _magnet_, which, according to his hypothesis, was the best and safest remedy hitherto proposed against all diseases incident to the human body. this declaration of messmer excited very general attention; the more so as about the same time he established a hospital in his own house, into which he admitted a number of patients _gratis_. such disinterestedness procured, as might be expected, no small addition to his fame. he was, besides, fortunate in gaining over many celebrated physicians to his opinions, who lavished the greatest encomiums on his new art, and were instrumental in communicating to the public a number of successful experiments. this seems to have surpassed the expectations of messmer, and induced him to extend his original plan further than it is likely he first intended. we find him soon after assuming a more dogmatical and mysterious air, when, for the purpose of shining exclusively, he appeared in the character of a _magician_:--his pride and egotism would brook neither equal nor competitor. the common loadstone, or mineral magnet, which is so well known, did not appear to him sufficiently important and mysterious--he contrived an unusual one, to the effect of which he gave the name of '_animal magnetism_'. after this, he proceeded to a still holder assumption, everywhere giving it out, that the inconceivable powers of this subtile fluid were centered in his own person. now, the mona-drama began; and messmer, at once the hero and chorus of the piece, performed his part in a masterly manner. he placed the most nervous, hysteric, and hypocondriac patients opposite to him; and by the sole act of stretching forth his finger, he made them feel the most violent shocks. the effects of this wonderful power excited universal astonishment; its activity and penetration being confirmed by unquestionable testimonies, from which it appeared, that blows similar to those given by a blunt iron, could be imparted by the operator, while he himself was separated by two doors, nay, even by thick walls. the very looks of this prince of jugglers had the power to excite painful cramps and twitches in his credulous and predisposed patients. this wonderful tide of success instigated his indefatigable genius to bolder attempts, especially as he had no severe criticism to apprehend from the superstitious multitude. he roundly asserted things of which he offered not the least shadow of proof; and for the truth of which he had no other pledge to offer but his own high reputation. at one time he could communicate his magnetic power to paper, wool, silk, bread, leather, stones, water, etc., at another he asserted that certain individuals possessed a greater degree of susceptibility for this power than others. it must be owned, however, that many of his contemporaries made it their business to encounter his extravagant pretensions, and refute his dogmatical assertions with the most convincing arguments. yet, he long enjoyed the triumph of being supported by blind followers, and their increasing number completely overpowered the suffrages of reason. messmer, at length perceived that in his native country, he should never be able to reach the point which he had fixed upon, as the termination of his magnetical career. the germans began to discredit his pompous claims; but it was only after repeated failures in some promised cures, that he found himself under the necessity of seeking protection in paris. there he met with a most flattering reception, being caressed, and in a manner adored by a nation which has always been extravagantly fond of every new thing, whimsical and mysterious. messmer well knew how to turn this natural propensity to the best advantage. he addressed himself particularly to the weak; to such as wished to be considered men of profound knowledge, but who, when they were compelled to be silent from real ignorance, took refuge behind the impenetrable shield of mystery. the fashionable levity, the irresistible curiosity, and the peculiar turn of the parisians, ever solicitous to have something interesting for conversation, to keep their active imagination in play, were exactly suited to the genius and talents of the inventor of animal magnetism. we need not wonder, therefore, if he availed himself of their moral and physical character, to ensure a ready faith in his doctrines, and success to his pretended experiments: in fact, he found friends and admirers wherever he made his appearance. his first advertisement was couched in the following high-sounding terms: "behold a discovery which promises unspeakable advantages to the human race, and immortal fame to its author! behold the dawn of an universal revolution! a new race of men shall arise, shall overspread the earth, to embellish it by their virtues, and render it fertile by their industry. neither vice nor ignorance, shall stop their active career; they will know our calamities only from the records of history. the prolonged duration of their life will enable them to plan and accomplish the most laudable undertakings. the tranquil, the innocent gratifications of that primeval age will be restored, wherein man laboured without toil, lived without sorrow, and expired without a groan! mothers will no longer be subject to pain and danger during their pregnancy and child-birth: their progeny will be more robust and brave; the now rugged and difficult path of education will be rendered smooth and easy; and hereditary complaints and diseases will be for ever banished from the future auspicious race. fathers rejoicing to see their posterity of the fourth and fifth generations, will only drop like fruit fully ripe, at the extreme point of age! animals and plants, no less susceptible of the magnetic power than man, will be exempt from the reproach of barrenness and the ravages of distemper. the flocks in the fields, and the plants in the gardens, will be more vigorous and nourishing, and the trees will bear more beautiful and grateful fruits. the human race, once endowed with this elementary power, will probably rise to still more sublime and astonishing effects of nature: who indeed is able to pronounce, with certainty, how far this salutary influence may extend?" "what splendid promises! what rich prospects! messmer, the greatest of philosophers, the most virtuous of men, the physician of mankind, charitably opens his arms to all his fellow-mortals, who stand in need of comfort and assistance. no wonder that the cause of magnetism, under such a zealous apostle, rapidly gained ground, and obtained every day large additions to the number of its converts. to the gay, the nervous, and the dissipated of all ranks and ages, it held out the most flattering promises. men of the first respectability interested themselves in behalf of this new philosophy; they anticipated in idea, the more happy and more vigorous race which would proceed, as it were, by enchantment, from the wonderful impulsive powers of animal magnetism. the french were so far seduced by these flattering appearances, as to offer the german adventurer _thirty thousand livres_ for the communication of his secret art. he appears, however, to have understood his own interest better than thus to dispose of his hypothetical property, which, upon a more accurate investigation might be objected to, as consisting of unfair articles of purchase. he consequently returned the following answer to the credulous french ministers: "that dr. m. considered his art of too great importance, and the abuses it might lead to, too dangerous for him at present to make it public; that he must therefore reserve to himself the time of its publication, and mode of introducing it to general use and observation--that he would first take proper measures to initiate or prepare the minds of men, by exciting in them a susceptibility of this great power; and that he would then undertake to communicate his secret gradually, which he meant to do without hope of reward." messmer, too politic to part with his secret for so small a premium, had a better prospect in view; and his apparent disinterestedness and hesitation served only to sound an over-curious public, to allure more victims to his delusive practices, and to retain them more firmly in their implicit belief. soon after this he was easily prevailed upon to institute a private society, into which none were admitted, but such as bound themselves by a vow to perpetual secrecy. these pupils he agreed to instruct in his important mysteries, on condition of each paying him _one hundred louis_. in the course of six months, having had not less than three hundred such pupils, he realized a fortune of _thirty thousand louis_. it appears, however, that the disciples of messmer did not adhere to their engagement: we find them separating gradually from their professor, and establishing schools for the propagation of his system, with a view, no doubt, to reimburse themselves for the expenses of their own initiation into the magnetising art. but few of them having understood the terms and mysterious doctrines of their foreign master, every new adept exerted himself to excel his fellow-labourers, in additional explanations and inventions: others, who did not possess, or could not spare the sum of one hundred louis, were industriously employed in attempts to discover the secret, by their own ingenuity; and thus arose a great variety of magnetical sects. at length, however, messmer's authority became suspected; his pecuniary acquisitions were now notorious, and our _humane and disinterested philosopher_ was assailed with critical and satirical animadversions from every quarter. the fertility of his process for medical purposes, as well as the bad consequences it might procure in a moral point of view, soon became topics of common conversation, and ultimately even excited the apprehensions of government. one dangerous effect of magnetical associations was, that young voluptuaries began to employ this art, to promote their libidinous and destructive designs. matters having assumed this serious aspect, the french government, much to its credit, deputed four respectable and unprejudiced men, to whom were afterwards added four others of great learning and abilities, to inquire into, and appreciate the merits of the new discovery of animal magnetism. these philosophers, among whom we find the illustrious names of franklin and lavoisier, recognised, indeed, very surprising and unexpected phenomena in the physical state of magnetized individuals; but they gave it as their opinion, that the powers of imagination, and not animal magnetism, had produced these effects. sensible of the superior influence, which the imagination can exert on the human body, when it is effectually wrought upon, they perceived, after a number of experiments and facts frequently repeated, that _contact_, or touch, _imagination, imitation_, and _excited sensibility_, were the real and sole causes of these phenomena, which had so much confounded the illiterate, the credulous, and the enthusiastic; that this boasted magnetic element had no real existence in nature, consequently that messmer himself was either an arrant impostor, or a deluded fanatic. meantime, this magnetic mystery had made no small progress in germany. a number of periodical and other publications vindicated its claims to public favour and attention; and some literary men, who had rendered themselves justly celebrated by their former writings, now stepped forward as bold and eager champions in support of this mystical doctrine. the ingenious lavater undertook long journies for the propagation of magnetism and somnambulism:[ ] and what, manipulations and other absurdities were not practised on hysterical young ladies in the city of bremen? it is farther worthy of notice, that an eminent physician of that place, in a recent publication, does not scruple to rank magnetism among medical remedies! it must, nevertheless, be confessed, that the great body of the learned, throughout germany, have endeavoured, by strong and impartial criticism, to oppose and refute animal magnetism, considered as a medical system. and how should it be otherwise, since it is highly ridiculous to imagine that violent agitations, spasms, convulsions, etc. which are obviously symptoms of a diseased state of body, and which must increase rather than diminish the disposition to nervous diseases, can be the means of improving the constitution and ultimately of prolonging human life? every attentive person must have observed, that too frequent intercourse between nervous and hypochondriac patients is infectious; and if this be the case, public assemblies, for exhibiting magnetised individuals, can neither be safe nor proper. it is no small proof of the good sense of the people of this country, though they have at different times fallen into nearly similar delusions, that the professors of animal magnetism did not long maintain their ground; they were soon exposed to public ridicule on the stage, and shortly became annihilated in their own absurdities. other plans for the prolongation of life, little less absurd than animal magnetism, which have, like every other imposture, "fretted their hour," deserve to be noticed. the french and germans have long stood pre-eminent in the empirical world, though the merit of ingenious and more plausible emanations of genius may fairly be attributed to the latter. animal magnetism; physiognomy, a rational though fallacious science; phrenology, a doctrine abounding with many singular manifestions, and possessing claims not to be put down by mere force of prejudice, are all of german origin. the count st. germain, a frenchman, realized large sums, by vending an artificial tea, chiefly composed of yellow saunders, senna leaves, and fennel seed, which was puffed off under the specious appellation of _tea for prolonging life_; which, at that time, was swallowed with such voracity all over the continent, that few could subsist without it. its celebrity was of short duration, and none ever lived long enough to realize its effects. the chevalier d'ailhoud, another brazen-faced adventurer, presented the world with a powder, which met with so large and rapid a sale, that he soon accumulated money enough to purchase a whole county. this famous powder, however, instead of adding to the means of securing a long and healthy life, is well known to produce constant indisposition, and at length to cause a most miserable death; being composed of certain drugs of a poisonous nature, though slow in their operation. count cagliostro, styled the luminary of modern impostors and debauchees, prepared a very common stomach elixir, which was sold at a most exorbitant price under the name of "_balm of life_" it was pretended, with the most unparalleled effrontery, that, by the use of this medicine, the count had lived above years, and that he was rendered invulnerable against every species of poison. these bold assertions could not fail to excite very general attention. during his residence at strasburg, while descanting, in a large and respectable company, on the virtues of his antidote, his pride met with a very mortifying check. a physician who was present, and who had taken part in the conversation, quitting the room privately, went to an apothecary's shop, and ordering two pills of equal size to be made, agreeably to his directions, suddenly appeared again before the count, and thus addressed him:--"here, my worthy count, are two pills; the one contains a mortal poison, the other is perfectly innocent; choose one of these and swallow it, and i engage to take that which you leave. this will be considered as a decisive proof of your medical skill, and enable the public to ascertain the efficacy of your extolled elixir." the count took the alarm, made a number of apologies, but could not be prevailed upon to touch the pills. the physician swallowed both immediately, and proved by his apothecary, that they might be taken with perfect safety, being only made of common bread. notwithstanding the shame of this detection, cagliostro still retained numerous advocates by circulating unfounded reports, and concealing his real character by a variety of tricks. the inspired father gassner, of bavaria, ascribed all diseases, lameness, palsy, etc, to diabolical agency, contending from the history of job, saul, and others recorded in sacred writ, that satan, as the grand enemy of mankind, has a power to embitter and shorten our lives by diseases. vast numbers of credulous and weak-minded people flocked to this fanatic, with a view of obtaining relief which he never had the means to administer. multitudes of patients, afflicted with nervous and hypochondriacal complaints, besieged him daily; being all stimulated by a wild imagination, eager to view and acknowledge the works of satan! men eminent for their literary attainments, even the natural philosophers of bavaria, were hurried away by the stream, and completely blinded by sanctified imposture. it is no less astonishing than true, that so late as , a count thun, at leipzig, pretended to perform miraculous cures on gouty, hypochondriacal, and hysterical patients, merely by the imposition of his sacred hands. he could not however raise a great number of disciples in a place that abounds with so many sceptics and unbelievers. the commencement of the nineteenth century has been equally pregnant with imposture. the delusions of joanna southcoat are too fresh in the recollections of our readers to require notice here; yet, strange to say, this fanatical old woman had her adherents and disciples; many of them, in other respects, were keen and sensible men; nor has the delusion altogether evaporated, though the sect is by no means powerful or strong; the first impressions are still retained by her half frantic and ridiculous devotees, who are only to be met with among the very lowest and illiterate orders of society. the farce of the convert of newhall, near chelmsford, is of still more recent date. here we have a miracle performed by the holy prince hohenlohe, at a distance of at least three hundred miles from the presence of his patient. hearing of the wonderful cures performed by this prince, one of the nuns in the above convent, who had been afflicted for a considerable length of time with a swelling and inflammation extending from the ball of the thumb along the fore arm, and up as high as the armpit, wrote to prince hohenlohe--having previously been attended by the most eminent practitioners in london without any apparent benefit--to relieve her from her sufferings. this he willingly undertook to do, but accompanied his consent with an injunction that she should offer up her prayers on a certain day (may , ,) held in reverence by the catholics, and at a certain hour, promising that he would be at his devotions at the same time. all this, the afflicted nun attended to; immediately after her prayers, she experienced a tingling sensation along the arm, and from that instant the cure rapidly advanced until the diseased limb became as sound as the other. the days of priestcraft and superstition, it was hoped, had been fast fleeting away before the luminous rays of science, even in those countries where religious juggling had been most fostered and practised. but for any man in this country to believe that such a miracle can be wrought by human agency, is of itself an awfully convincing proof that he is ignorant of the scriptures, and that his own mind is likely to become a prey to the wildest chimeras. prince hohenlohe's notoriety however as a worker of miracles was not confined to newhall. his mighty prowess extended to the emerald isle; and several cures were performed at as great, or even at a greater distance, than that wrought at newhall, and merely at the sound of his orisons. we hear of no miracles being wrought by, or upon protestants; consequently we leave them to the gloom of the cloister, whence they emanated, and where only they can be of use in a cause which requires the aid of stratagem to support it. a taste for the marvellous seems to be natural to man in every stage of society, and at almost every period of life; it cannot, therefore, be much a matter of astonishment, that, from the earliest ages of the world, persons have been found, who, more idle and more ingenious than others, have availed themselves of this propensity, to obtain an easy livelihood by levying contributions on the curiosity of the public. whether this taste is to be considered as a proof of the weakness of our judgment, or of innate inquisitiveness, which stimulates us to enlarge the sphere of our knowledge, must be left to the decision of metaphysicians; it is sufficient for our present purpose to know that it gave rise to a numerous class of impostors in the shape of quacks, mountebanks, poison-swallowers, fire-eaters, and pill-mongers. there is another class of adepts, such as sleight of hand performers, slack rope dancers, teachers of animals to perform extraordinary tricks; in short, those persons who delude the senses, and practise harmless deceptions on spectators, included under the common appellation of jugglers. if these arts served no other purpose than that of mere amusement, they yet merit a certain degree of encouragement, as affording at once a cheap and innocent diversion; jugglers of this class frequently exhibit instructive experiments in natural philosophy, chemistry, and mechanics: thus the solar microscope was invented from an instrument to reflect shadows, with which a savoyard amused a german populace; and the celebrated sir richard arkwright is said to have conceived the idea of the spinning machines, which have so largely contributed to the prosperity of the cotton manufactories in this country, from a toy which he purchased for his child from an itinerant showman. these deceptions have, besides, acted as an agreeable and most powerful antidote to superstition, and to that popular belief in miracles, conjuration, sorcery, and witchcraft, which preyed upon the minds of our ancestors; and the effects of shadows, electricity, mirrors, and the magnet, once formidable instruments in the hands of interested persons, for keeping the vulgar in awe, have been stripped of their terrors, and are no longer frightful in their most terrific forms. on the transfusion op blood from one animal to another. at a time when the shortness of human life was imputed to a distempered state of the blood; when all diseases were ascribed to this cause, without attending to the whole of what relates to the moral and physical nature of man, a conclusion was easily formed, that a radical removal of the corrupted blood, and a complete renovation of the entire mass by substitution was both practicable and effectual. the speculative mind of man was not at a loss to devise expedients, to effect this desirable purpose; and undoubtedly one of the boldest, most extraordinary, and most ingenious attempts ever made to lengthen the period of human life was made at this time. we allude here to the famous scheme of _transfusion_, or of introducing the blood of one animal into that of another. this curious discovery is attributed to andreas libavius, professor of medicine and chemistry in the university of halle, who, in the year , publicly recommended experimental essays to ascertain the fact. libavius was an honest and spirited opposer of the theosophic system, founded by the bombastic paracelsus, and supported by a numerous tribe of credulous and frantic followers. although he was not totally exempt from the follies of that age, since he believed in the transmutation of metals, and suggested to his pupils the wonderful power of potable gold, yet he distinguished rational alchemy from the fanatical systems then in repute, and zealously defended the former against the disciples of galen, as well as those of paracelsus. he made a number of important discoveries in chemistry, and was unquestionably the first professor in germany who gave chemical lectures, upon pure principles of affinity, unconnected with the extravagant notions of the theosophists. the first experiments relative to the transfusion of the blood, appear to have been made, and that with great propriety, on the lower animals. the blood of the young, healthy and vigorous, was transferred into the old and infirm, by means of a delicate tube, placed in a vein opened for that purpose. the effect of this operation was surprising and important: aged and decrepit animals were soon observed to become more lively, and to move with greater ease and rapidity. by the indefatigable exertions of lower, in england, of dennis in france, and of moulz, hoffman, and others in germany, this artificial mode of renovating the life and spirits was successfully continued, and even brought to some degree of perfection. the vein usually opened in the arm of a patient was resorted to for the purpose of transfusion; into this a small tube was placed in a perpendicular direction; the same vein was then opened in a healthy individual, but more frequently in an animal, into which another tube was forced in a reclining direction; both small tubes were then slid into one another, and in that position the delicate art of transfusion was safely performed. when the operation was completed, the vein was tied up in the same manner as on blood-letting. sometimes a quantity of blood was drawn from the patient, previously to the experiment taking place. as few persons, however, were to be found, that would agree to part with their blood to others, recourse was generally had to animals, and most frequently to the calf, the lamb, and the stag. these being laid upon a table, and tied so as to be unable to move, the operation was performed in the manner before described. in some instances, the good effects of these experiments were evident and promising, while they excited the greatest hopes of the future improvement and progress of this new art. but the unceasing abuses practised by bold and inexpert adventurers, together with the great number of cases, which proved unsuccessful, induced the different governments of europe to put an entire stop to the practice, by the strictest prohibitions. and, indeed, while the constitutions and mode of living among men differ so materially as they now do, this is, and ever must remain, an extremely hazardous and equivocal, if not a desperate remedy. the blood of every individual is of a peculiar nature, and congenial with that of the body only to which it belongs, and in which it is generated. hence our hope of prolonging human life, by artificial evacuations and injections, must necessarily be disappointed. it must not, however, be supposed, that these, and similar pursuits during the ages of which we treat, as well as those which succeeded, were solely or chiefly followed by mere adventurers and fanatics. the greatest geniuses of those times employed their wits with the most learned and eminent men, who deemed it an object by no means below their consideration. the method of supplying good for unsound teeth, though long laid aside, in consequence of the danger with which the practice was attended, by the communication of disease from an unhealthy to a healthy person, was at one time as much the rage as the transfusion of blood. this practice, notwithstanding the objections which stand opposed to it, might, nevertheless, be adopted with success on many occasions, could persons enjoying a sound and wholesome state of body be found to answer the demand, however unnatural it may appear. a few untoward cases soon raised the hue and cry against the continuance of the practice, as in the transfusion of blood, though the latter has recently been attempted in the case of an individual exhausted by excessive hermorrage with a success which answered the expectation. there is little doubt that both the transfusion of blood, and engrafting or transplanting of teeth, are capable, with judgment and discrimination, of being made subservient in a variety of cases; though the chances of general success militate against these experiments; for it is the unalterable plan of nature to proceed gradually in her operations; all outrage and extravagance being at variance with her established laws. footnotes: [ ] the art of exciting sleep in persons under the influence of animal magnetism, with a view to obtain or rather extort during this artificial sleep, their verbal declarations and directions for curing the diseases of both body and mind. such, indeed, was the rage for propagating this mystical nonsense, that even the pulpit was occasionally resorted to, in order to make, not fair penitents, but fair proselytes. chapter xxii. the rosicrucians or theosophists. this remarkable sect was founded upon the doctrines of paracelsus, during the latter part of the sixteenth, and the beginning of the seventeenth centuries. the society was known by the name of the rosencrucians or rosecrucians; and as it has not been without its followers and propagators in different shapes, even to the present time, we shall here present the reader with a concise account of the origin and tenets of that fanatical sect. the first intimation of the existence of this order we find announced to the world in a book published in the german language, in the year , with the following title, "_the universal and general reformation of the world, together with an account of the famous fraternity of the rosencrucians_." the work contains an intimation, that the members of the society had been secretly engaged for a century preceding, and that they had come to the knowledge of many great and important secrets, which, if communicated to the world, would promote the happiness of man. an adventurer of the name of christian rosenkreuz is said to have founded this order, in the fourteenth century after having been previously initiated in the sublime wisdom of the east, during his travels in egypt and fez. from what we are enabled to learn from this work, the intention of the founder and the final aim of the society, appear to have been the accumulation of wealth and treasures, by means of secrets known only to the members; and by a proper distribution of these treasures among princes and potentates, to promote the grand scheme of the society, by producing "a general revolution of all things." in their "confession of faith," there are many bold and singular dogmas; among others, that the end of the world is at hand; that a general reformation of men and manners will speedily take place; that the wicked shall be expelled or subdued, the jews converted, and the doctrine of christ propagated over the whole earth. the rosencrucians not only believed that these events must happen, but they also endeavoured to accelerate them by unremitted exertions. to their faithful votaries and followers, they promised abundance of celestial wisdom, unspeakable riches, exemption from disease, an immortal state of man of ever blooming youth, and above all the _philosopher's stone_. learning and improvement of the mind were, by this order, considered as superfluous and despised. they found all knowledge in the bible; this, however, has been supposed rather a pretext to obviate a charge, which was brought against them, of not believing in the christian religion. the truth is, they imagined themselves superior to divine revelation, and supposed every useful acquisition, every virtue to be derived from the influence of the deity on the soul of man. in this, as well as in many other respects, they appear to be followers of paracelsus, whom they profess to revere as a messenger of the divinity. like him, they pretend to cure all diseases; through _faith_ and the power of the imagination, to heal the most mortal disorders by a touch, or even by simply looking at the patient. the universal remedy was likewise a grand secret of the order, the discovery of which was promised to all its faithful members. it would be unnecessary to enumerate any more of such impious fancies, if the founder of this still lurking sect, now partly revivified, had not asserted, with astonishing effrontery, that human life was capable of prolongation, like a fire kept up by combustible matter, and that he was in the possession of a secret, which could verify this assertion. it is evident, however, from the testimony of libavius, a man of unquestionable veracity, that this doughty champion in medical chemistry, or rather alchemy, paracelsus, notwithstanding his bold assertions, died as before observed, at sulzburgh in germany, in the hospital of st. stephen's in : and that his death was chiefly occasioned by the singular and desolate mode of life, which he had for a long time pursued. when a competent knowledge of the economy of the human frame is wanting, to enable a man to discriminate between internal and external causes and effects, it will be impossible to ascertain, or to counteract, the different causes by which our health is deranged. this evidently was the case with paracelsus, and many other life-prolongers who have succeeded him; and should a fortunate individual ever fix upon a remedy, possessing the power of checking disease, or lengthening out human existence (an expectation never to be realized) he will be indebted to chance alone for the discovery. this has been the case in all ages, and still remains so. remedies, from time to time, have been devised, not merely to serve as nostrums for all diseases, but also for the pretended purpose of prolonging life. those of the latter kind have been applied with a view to resist or check many operations of nature, which insensibly consume the vital heat, and other powers of life, such as respiration, muscular irritation, etc. thus, from the implicit credulity of some, and the exuberant imagination of others, observation and experiments, however incompatible with sound reason and philosophy, have been multiplied, with the avowed design of establishing proofs, or reputations of this or that absurd opinion. in this manner have fanaticism and imposture falsified the plainest truths, or forged the most unfounded and ridiculous claims; insomuch that one glaring inconsistency has been employed to combat another, and folly has succeeded folly, till a fund of materials has been transmitted to posterity, sufficient to form a concise history on this subject. men in all ages have set a just value on life; and in proportion to the means of enjoyment, this value has been appreciated in a greater or less degree. if the gratification of the sensual appetite formed the principal object of living, its prolongation would be to the epicure, as desirable as the prospect of an existence to be enjoyed beyond the limits of the grave, is to the moralist and the believer. the desire of longevity appears to be inherent in all animated nature, and particularly in the human race; it is intimately cherished by us, through the whole duration of our existence, and is frequently supported and strengthened, not only by justifiable means, but also by various kinds of collusion. living in an age when every branch of human knowledge is reduced to popular systems; when the vigils of reason are hallowed at the shrine of experiment and observation;--though we behold in the immense variety of things, the utter uselessness of attempting to renovate a shattered constitution, or of improving a sound one to last beyond a certain period; we nevertheless observe that in the inconceivable waste of elementary particles there prevails the strictest economy. nothing is produced in vain, nothing consumed without a cause. we clearly perceive that all nature is united by indissoluble ties, that every individual thing exists for the sake of another, and that no one can subsist without its concomitant. hence we conclude, that man himself is not an insulated being, but a necessary link in the great chain, which connects the universe. nature is our safest guide, and she will be so with greater certainty, as we become better acquainted with her operations, especially with respect to those particulars which more nearly concern our physical existence. thus, n source of many and very extensive advantages will be opened; thus, we shall reach our original destination--namely, that of living long and in the enjoyment of sound health, to which, if purity of morals he added, the best hopes may be entertained of a happy state, in a future world, where its inhabitants never die. file was produced from images generously made available by the kentuckiana digital library) she buildeth her house by will levington comfort author of "routledge rides alone," etc with a frontispiece by martin justice philadelphia & london j. b. lippincott company copyright, , by j. b. lippincott company published may, printed by j. b. lippincott company at the washington square press philadelphia, u.s.a. a bough brought with singing to the feet of her who crossed the sands alone in adoring pilgrimage for her son [illustration: he reached the curbing of the old well with his burden] contents first chapter. paula encounters the remarkable eyes of her first giant, and hearkens to the second, thundering afar-off second chapter. paula contemplates the wall of a hundred windows, and the mysterious madame nestor calls at the zoroaster third chapter. certain developing incidents are caught into the current of narrative--also a supper with reifferscheid fourth chapter. paula encounters her adversary who turns prophet and tells of a starry child soon to be born fifth chapter. paula is involved in the furious history of selma cross and writes a letter to quentin charter sixth chapter. paula is called to parlor "f" of the maidstone where the beyond-devil awaits with outstretched arms seventh chapter. paula begins to see more clearly through madame nestor's revelations, and witnesses a broadway accident eighth chapter. paula makes several discoveries in the charter heart-country, and is delighted by his letters to the skylark ninth chapter. paula is drawn into the selma cross past and is bravely wooed through further messages from the west tenth chapter. paula sees selma cross in tragedy, and in her own apartment next morning is given a reality to play eleventh chapter. paula is swept deep into a desolate country by the high tide, but notes a quick change in selma cross twelfth chapter. certain elements for the charter crucible, and his mother's pilgrimage, across the sands alone to mecca thirteenth chapter. "no man can enter into a strong man's house, and spoil his goods, except he will first bind the strong man" fourteenth chapter. the singing of the skylark ceases abruptly; charter hastens east to find a queer message at the granville fifteenth chapter. quentin charter and selma cross join issue on a new battle-ground, each leaving the field with open wounds sixteenth chapter. paula, finding that both giants have entered her castle, rushes in tumult into the night seventeenth chapter. paula sails into the south, seeking the holy man of saint pierre, where la montagne pelÉe gives warning eighteenth chapter. paula is involved in the rending fortunes of saint pierre and the panther calls with new york mail nineteenth chapter. quentin charter is attracted by the travail of pelÉe, and encounters a queer fellow-voyager twentieth chapter. charter's mind becomes the arena of conflict between the wyndam woman and skylark memories twenty-first chapter. charter communes with the wyndam woman, and confesses the great trouble of his heart to father fontanel twenty-second chapter. charter makes a pilgrimage to the craters of pelÉe--one last day devoted to the spirit of old letters twenty-third chapter. charter and stock are called to the priest's house in the night, and the wyndam woman stays at the palms twenty-fourth chapter. having to do especially with the morning of the ascension, when the monster, pelÉe, gives birth to death twenty-fifth chapter. the saragossa encounters the raging fire-mists from pelÉe eight miles at sea, but lives to send a boat ashore twenty-sixth chapter. paula and charter in several settings feel the energy of the great good that drives the world twenty-seventh chapter. paula and charter journey into the west; one hears voices, but not the words often, from rapture's roadway she buildeth her house first chapter paula encounters the remarkable eyes of her first giant, and hearkens to the second, thundering afar-off paula linster was twenty-seven when two invading giants entered the country of her heart. on the same day, these hosts, each unconscious of the other, crossed opposite borders and verged toward the prepared citadel between them. reifferscheid, though not one of the giants, found paula a distraction in brown, when she entered his office before nine in the morning, during the fall of . he edited the rather distinguished weekly book-page of _the states_, and had come to rely upon her for a paper or two in each issue. there had been rain in the night. the mellow october sunlight was strange with that same charm of maturity which adds a glow of attraction to motherhood. the wonderful autumn haze, which broods over our zone as the spirit of ripening grains and tinting fruits, just perceptibly shaded the vivid sky. a sentence paula had heard somewhere in a play, "my god, how the sun does shine!" appealed to her as particularly fitting for new york on such a morning. then in the streets, so lately flooded, the brilliant new-washed air was sweet to breathe. paula had felt the advisability the year before of adding somewhat to her income. inventory brought out the truth that not one of her talents had been specialized to the point of selling its product. she had the rare sense to distinguish, however, between a certain joyous inclination to write and a marked ability for producing literature; and to recognize her own sound and sharp appreciation of what was good in the stirring tide of books. presenting herself to reifferscheid, principally on account of an especial liking for the book-page of _the states_, she never forgot how the big man looked at her that first time over his spectacles, as if turning her pages with a sort of psychometric faculty. he found her possible and several months won her not a little distinction in the work. reifferscheid was a fat, pondrous, heavy-spectacled devourer of work. he compelled her real admiration--"the american st. beuve," she called him, because he was so tireless, and because he sniffed genius from afar. there was something unreservedly charming to her, in his sense of personal victory, upon discovering greatness in an unexpected source. then he was so big, so common to look at; kind as only a bear of a man can be; so wise, so deep, and with such a big smoky factory of a brain, full of fascinating crypts. subcutaneous laughter that rested her internally for weeks lingered about certain of the large man's sayings. even in the auditing of her account, she felt his kindness. "now here are some essays by quentin charter--a big man, a young man and a slow worker," he said. "charter's first volume was a thunderer. we greeted it with a whoop two years ago. did you see it?" "no," paula replied. "i was too strong for literary trifles then." "anyway, look out for charter. he didn't start to appear until he was an adult. he's been everywhere, read everything and has a punch like a projectile. an effective chap, this charter. he dropped in to see me a few weeks after my review. he confessed the critics had made him very glad.... 'i am doing a second book,' he confided to me. 'down on my knees to it. work-shop stripped of encomiums; no more dinner-parties or any of that fatness. say, it's a queer thing about making a book. you never can tell whether it's to be a boy or a girl....'" paula smiled reservedly. "i asked him what his second book was to be about," reifferscheid went on. "'women,' said he. 'how novel!' said i. he grinned genially. 'reifferscheid,' he declared, in his snappy way, 'women are interesting. they're doing the thinking nowadays. they're getting there. one of these mornings, man will wake up to the fact that he's got to be born again to get in a class with his wife. man is mixed up with altogether too much of this down-town madness. women don't want votes, public office, or first-hand dollars. _they want men!_' ... i always remembered that little bit of stuff from charter. he says the time will come when classy girls will get their heads together and evolve this ultimatum, which will be handed intact to adorers: 'no, boys, we can't marry you. we haven't any illusions about celibacy. it isn't nice nor attractive, but it's better than being yoked with hucksters and peddlers who come up-town at night--mental cripples in empty wagons. go away and learn what life means, what it means to be men--_what it means to us for you to be men_! learn how to live--and oh, boys, hurry back!'" "splendid!" paula exclaimed. "oh, yes, charter is a full deck and a joker. he's lived. he makes you feel him. his years are veritable campaigns. he has dangled in the vortices of human action and human passion--and seemed to come out whole!..." reifferscheid chuckled at a memory. "'women are interesting,' charter finished in his dry fashion. 'i just got to them lately. i wish i could know them all.'" "i love the book already," paula said. reifferscheid laughed inwardly at the feminine way she held the volume in both hands, pressing it close. "it's the only book on my table this morning that i'd like to read," he added. "therefore i give it to you. there's no fun in giving something you don't want.... are you going to hear bellingham to-night?" she was conscious of an unaccountable dislike at the name, a sense of inward chill. it was almost as reckonable as the pleasure she felt in the work and personality of quentin charter. "who's bellingham?" paula swallowed dryly after the first utterance of the name. "mental magician. i only mentioned him, because you so seldom miss the unusual, and are so quick to hail a new cult or odd mental specimen." "magician--surely?" she asked. "he comes rather stoutly recommended as such," reifferscheid replied, "though personally mine is more than a healthy skepticism. there's a notice this morning of his lectures. he recently hypnotized a man to whom the medical profession was afraid to administer an anaesthetic--held him painless during a long and serious operation. then bellingham is the last word in alchemy, feminine emotions, causes of hysteria, longevity, the proportions of male and female in each person; also he renews the vital principle, advises unions, makes you beautiful, and has esoteric women's classes. a godey's ladies' man. some provincial husband will shoot him presently." paula took the surface car home, because the day was so rare and the crowd was still downward bent. the morning paper contained an announcement of quentin charter's new book, and a sketch of the author. a strange, talented figure, new in letters, the article said. the paragraphs had that fresh glow of a publisher's perennial high hope. here was the book of a man who had lived; who drew not only upon art, history, and philosophy for his prisms of thought, but who had roamed and worked and ridden with men, keeping a sensitive finger ever at the pulse of nature; a man who had never in the most insignificant degree lowered the import or artificially raised the tension of his work to adjust it to the fancied needs of the public. in spite of the enthusiastic phrasing, everything about charter fascinated her; even the make-up of the unread book in her hand, and the sentences that gleamed from the quickly turned pages. she had ridden many squares, when the name of dr. bellingham stood out before her eyes in the newspaper. the chill in her arteries was perceptible as before, when reifferscheid spoke the name. it was as the latter had said--the famous healer and telepathist was to start a series of classes for women. paula lived alone in a small apartment at the _zoroaster_, "top-side o' park." few friends, many books, within a car ride of the world's best fruition in plays, lectures, music, and painting--yet the reality of it all was the expansion of her mind in the days and nights alone. the subtle relations of things encroached upon her intelligence with a steady and certain trend. she never had to pass, like so many of cruder nature, through the horrid trials of materialism; nor to be painfully bruised in mind from buffeting between manhandled creeds and the pure ethics of the lord christ. hers was not an aggressive masculine originality, but the complement of it--that inspiring, completing feminine intelligence, elastic to a man's hard-won concepts and ready with a crown for them. something of this type of woman, the big-brained brothers of men have written and chiselled, painted, sung and dreamed of, since human thought first lifted above the appetites. there must be a bright answer for each man's particular station of evolution in the world's dumfounding snarl of the sexes--one woman to lighten his travail and accelerate his passage to the uplands. for we are but half-men, man and woman alike. the whole is two, whose union forms one.... this is the key to nature's arcanum; this, the one articulate sentence from all the restless murmuring out of the past; this, the stupendous purpose weaving the million thrilling and truant activities of the present hour--the clean desire for completion--the union of two which forms one. the search for this completing woman is the secret of man's roving in the gardens of sense. his frequent falls into abysmal depravity are but results incidental to the occultations of his guide star. from reptiles in the foul smoke of chaos, to the lifted spines of manhood on a rising road, man has come; and by the interminable torture of the paths which sink behind, he has the other half of eternity to reach the top. from a child whose fairies were only enchanted into books for day-time convenience, darkness to paula meant visions, indeed. often now at night, though she never spoke of it, the little apartment was peopled by the spirits of her reading and her ideals--mystics, priests, prophets, teachers, ascetics. to the congenial dark they came--faces unlike any she had ever seen, but quite unmistakable in her dreamings. once when she pampered a natural aversion to meat for several months, soft foot-falls and low voices (which had nothing whatever to do with her neighbors across the hall, or the elevator-man in any passage) began to rouse her in the night. new york is no place for such refinements of sense, and she checked these manifestations through physical exercise and increased diet. she was seldom afraid, but there was a tension in all her imaginings, and she grew marvellously in this twenty-eighth year--furnishing her mind more sumptuously than she knew. reifferscheid saw this in her eyes and in her work. throughout the swiftly passing day, paula realized that she would go to prismatic hall in west sixty-seventh street, where dr. bellingham was to organize his lecture-course that night. against this foreknowledge was a well-defined distaste for the man and his work. between the two, the thought of the evening crowded frequently into mind until she became impatient with herself at the importance it assumed. it was with a certain feminine manipulation of conscience, so deft as almost to be unconscious, that she excused her own curiosity on the ground that her disfavor for the doctor and his message would be strengthened by the first meeting, beyond the need of further experience. one concession she made to her natural aversion--that of going late. she was in a mood poignantly critical. the real paula linster, she fancied, was at home, "top-side o' park"; here was just a sophisticated professional surface, such as reporters carry about. the hall was packed with women; the young and the jaded; faces of pup-innocence; faces bitten from terrible expeditions to the poles of sense; faces tired and thick from the tread of an orient of emotions; slow-roving eyes which said, "i crave--i crave! i have lost the sense of reality, but seven sick and pampered organs crave within me!" the thought came to paula--to be questioned afterward--that man's evil, after all, is rudimentary compared to a worldly woman's; man's soul not so complicated, nor so irrevocably identified with his sensual organism. she could not avoid pondering miserably upon woman's innate love for far ventures into sensation, permitting these ventures to be called (if the world would) searches for the holy grail. the inevitable attraction for women which specialists of the body possess, actually startled her. bellingham was one of these. on the surface of all his sayings, and all comment about him, was the bland, deadly insinuation that the soul expands in the pursuit of bodily health. about his name was the mystery of his age, whispers of his physical perfection, intimations of romantic affairs, the suggestion of his miraculous performances upon the emotions--the whole gamut of activities designed to make him the instant aversion of any normal member of his own sex. yet the flock of females had settled about him, as they have settled about every black human plague--and glorious messiah--since the birth of days. the thrilled, expectant look on several faces brought to paula's mind the type of her sisters who relish being shocked; whose exaltations are patently those of emotional contact; who call physical excitement the glorifying of their spirit, and cannot be persuaded to confess otherwise. woman as a negation for man to play upon never distressed her before with such direct and certain pressure. here were women intent upon encountering a new sensation; women who devoutly breathed the name of motherhood next to godhood, and yet endured their pregnancy with organic rebellion and mental loathing; women who could not conceive of love apart from the embrace of man, and who imagine a "message" in deformed and salacious novels, making such books popular; women of gold-leaf culture whose modesty fastens with a bow--narrow temples of infinite receptivity.... why had they come? in the perfect feminine system of information, the whisper had run: "bellingham is wonderful. bellingham tells you how to live forever. bellingham teaches the renewal of self and has esoteric classes--_for the few_!" they had the sanction of one another. there was no scandal in being there openly, nor any instinct, apparently, to warn them that secret classes to discover how to live forever, had upon the surface no very tonic flavor. the digest of the whole matter was that revelations sooner or later would be made to a certain few, and that these revelations, which would be as fine oil upon the mental surfaces of many women near her, would act as acid upon the male mind generally. in the sickening distaste for herself and for those who had to make no concession to themselves for coming, inasmuch as society permitted; and who would be heartfully disappointed in a lecture on hygiene that did not discuss the more intimate matters of the senses, paula did not appraise the opposite sex at any higher value. she merely reviewed matters which had come to her vividly as some of the crowning frailties of her own kind. the centre of the whole affair, dr. bellingham, was now introduced. he looked like a dane at first glance. his was the size, the dusty look and the big bone of a dane; the deep, downy paleness of cheek, the tumbled, though not mussy hair. he was heavy without being adipose, lean, but big-boned; his face was lined with years, though miraculously young in the texture of skin. the lips of a rather small and feminine mouth were fresh and red as a girl's. in the softness of complexion and the faintest possible undertone of color, it was impossible not to think of perfected circulation and human health brought to truest rhythm. the costliest lotions cannot make such a skin. it is organic harmony. exterior decoration does not delude the seeing eye any more than a powder-magazine becomes an innocent cottage because its walls are vine-clad.... directly behind her, paula now heard a slow whisper: "i knew him twenty-five years ago, and he is not a moment older to look at." she seemed to have heard the voice before, and though the sentence surged with a dark significance through her mind, she did not turn. bellingham's words were now caressing the intelligence of his audience. to paula, his soft mouth was indescribably odious with cultured passion, red with replenishment, fresh with that sinister satisfaction which inevitably brings to mind a second figure, fallen, drained. his presence set to quivering within her, fears engendered from the great occult past. strange deviltries would always be shadowed about the bellingham image in her mind.... here was a man who made a shrine of his body, invested it with a heavy hungering god, and taught others--women--to bow and to serve. to her the body was but a nunnery which enclosed for a time an eternal element. this was basic, incontrovertible to her understanding. all that placated the body and helped to make fleshly desires last long, was hostile to the eternal element. not that the body should be abused or neglected, but kept as nearly as possible a clean vessel for the spirit, brought to a fine automatic functioning. it was as clear to paula linster as the faces of the women about her, that the splendid sacrifice of jesus was not that he had died upon the cross, but that he put on flesh in the beginning for the good of infant-souled men.... to eat sparingly of that which is good; to sleep when weary; to require cleanliness and pure air--these were the physical laws which worked out easily for decent minds. beyond such simple affairs, she did not allow the body often to rule her brain. when, indeed, the potentialities of her sex stirred within, paula felt that it was the down-pull of the old brood-mother, earth, and not the lifting of wings. bellingham's voice correlated itself, not with the eyes and brow, but with the lilith mouth--that strangely unpunished mouth. it was soft, suave. there was in it the warmth of breath. the high white forehead and the tousled brown hair, leonine in its masculinity--seemed foreign as another man's. she hearkened to the voice of a doctor used to women; one who knows women without illusion, whom you could imagine saying, "why bless you, women never say 'no.'" the eyes were blue-gray, but toned very darkly. the iris looked small in contrast to the expanse of clear white. they were fixed like a bird's in expression, incapable of warming or softening, yet one did not miss the impression that they could brighten and harden, even to shining in the dark. heavy blonde brows added a look of severity. paula's spirit, as if recognizing an old and mortal enemy, gathered about itself every human protecting emotion. frankly hateful, she surveyed the man, listening. he talked marvellously; even in her hostility, she had to grant that. the great sunning cat was in his tones, but the words were joined into clean-thought expression, rapid, vivid, unanswerable. he did not speak long; the first meeting was largely formative. paula knew he was studying his company, and watched him peer into the faces of the women. his mouth occasionally softened in the most winsome and engaging way, while his words ran on with the refined wisdom of ages. and always to her, his eyes stood out cold, hard, deadly. finally, she was conscious that they were roving near her; moving left to right, from face to face, as a collection-plate might have been passed. her first thought was to leave; but fear never failed to arouse an impulse to face out the cause. the second thought was to keep her eyes lowered. this she tried. his words came clearly now, as she stared down into the shadow--the perfectly carved thoughts, bright and swift like a company of soldiers moving in accord. as seconds passed, this down-staring became insufferable as though some one were holding her head. she could not breathe under repression. always it had been so; the irresistible maddened the very centres of her reason--a locked room, a hand or a will stronger than her own. raising her head with a gasp, as one coming to the surface from a great depth of water, she met bellingham's glance unerringly as a shaft of light. he had waited for this instant. the eyes now boring into her own, seemed lifted apart from all material things, veritable essences of light, as if they caught and held the full rays of every arc-lamp in the hall. warmth and smiling were not in them; instead, the spirit of conquest aroused; incarnate preying-power, dead to pity and humor. here was desire toothed, taloned, quick with every subtle art of nature. something at war with god, his eyes expressed to her. failing to master god, failing to foul the centres of creative purity, this something devoured the souls of women. continually his voice sought to drug her brain. the fine edge was gone from her perceptions; dulled, she was, to all but his sayings. there was a chill behind and above her eyes; it swept backward and seemed to converge in the coarser ganglia at the base of her brain. once she had seen a bird hop and flutter lower and lower among the branches of a lilacbush. on the ground below was a cat with head twisted upward--its vivid and implacable eyes distending. paula could understand now the crippling magnetism the bird felt.... finally she could hear only the words of bellingham, and feel only his power. what he was saying now to her was truth, the unqualified truth of more-than-man. when his eyes turned away, she felt ill, futile, immersed in an indescribable inner darkness. her fingers pained cruelly, and she realized she had been clutching with all her strength the book in her hand--quentin charter's book--which she had begun since morning. she could not remember a single one of his sentences which had impressed her, for her brain was tired and ineffectual, as after a prolonged fever, but she held fast to the bracing effect of an optimistic philosophy. then finally out of the helplessness of one pitifully stricken, a tithe of her old vitality returned. she used it at once, rose from her seat to leave the hall. into the base of her brain again, as she neared the door, penetrated the protest of his eyes. had she been unable to go on, she would have screamed. she felt the eyes of the women, too; the whole, a ghastly experience. once outside, she wanted to run. not the least astonishing was the quick obliteration of it all. this was because her sensations were the result of an influence foreign to her own nature. in a few moments she felt quite well and normal again, and was conscious of a tendency to make light of the whole proceeding. she reached home shortly after ten, angered at herself--inexplicable perversity--because she had taken bellingham and the women so seriously.... that night she finished one of the big books of her life--quentin charter's "a damsel came to peter." when the dawn stole into the little flat, her eyes were stinging, and her temples felt stretched apart from the recent hours. second chapter paula contemplates the wall of a hundred windows, and the mysterious madame nestor calls at the _zoroaster_ paula had never felt such a consciousness of vitality as the next forenoon, after three or four hours' sleep. she was just _un_rested enough to be alive with tension. her physical and mental capacities seemed expanded beyond all common bounds, and her thoughts tumbled about playfully in full arenic light, as athletes awaiting the beginning of performance. she plunged into a tub of cool water with such delight as thoroughly to souse her hair, so it became necessary to spend a half-hour in the sunlight by the open window, combing and fanning, her mind turning over wonderful things. if you ever looked across a valley of oaks and maples and elms in the full morning glow of mid-october, you can divine the glory of red and brown and gold which was this fallen hair. one must meditate long to suggest with words the eyes of paula linster; perhaps the best her chronicler can do is to offer a glimpse from time to time. just now you are asked for the sake of her eyes to visualize that lustrous valley once more--only in a dusk that enriches rather than dims. a memorably beautiful young woman, sitting there by the open window--one of the elect would have said. the difficulty in having to do with linster attractions is to avoid rising into rhapsody. one thinks of stars and lakes, angels and autumn lands, because his heart is full as a country-boy's, and high clean-clipped thinking is choked. certainly, once having known such a woman, you will never fall under the spell of weininger, or any other scale-eyed genius. there is an inspiring reach to that hard-handled word, culture, when it is used about a woman like this. it means so pure a fineness as neither to require nor to be capable of ostentation; and yet, a fineness that wears and gives and associates with heroisms. you think of a lineage that for centuries has not been fouled by brutality or banality, and has preserved a glowing human warmth, too, to retain the spirit of woman. when men rise to the real and the worthy, one by one, each will find his paula linster, whom to make happy is happiness; whose companionship inevitably calls forth his best; whom to be with constantly means therefore that all within him, not of the best, must surely die. clearly when a man finds such a woman, all his roads are closed, save one--to the shining heights! and who can say that his royal mate will not laughingly unfold wings for him, when they stand together in the radiant altitude? she was thinking of charter's book as she brushed her hair dry. his sentences played brightly in her mind, fastening themselves to comment of her own for the review. deep was the appeal of the rapt, sunlit face, as she looked away across the rear-court. the colored hall-boy of her own house might have missed the exquisite lines of lip, eyelid, nostril, brow, temple and chin, but his head uncovered in her presence, and the choicest spirit of service sprang within him. in all about her, to an enlightened vision, was the unconscious repression of beauty--art-stirring lines of mental and spiritual awakening; that look of deep inner freshness and health, the mere sight of which disgusts a man with all he has done to soil and sicken his body. full and easily she breathed, as one who relishes sweet air like the taste of pure water. you could imagine paula exclaiming with joy at the tonic delight of a wind from the sea, but not from the steaming aroma of a grill. it was all an æsthetic attraction--not an over-rounded arc, not a tissue stretched shiny from uneven plumpness, not a drowsy sag or fold to suggest the easy content of a mere feeding and breeding animal. the rear-view of a great granite-ridge of rooming-houses across the court had often fascinated her with the thought of the mysteries within. once she had spoken to reifferscheid about the splendid story of new york yet to be written by someone who watched, as she often did, one of these walls of a hundred windows. "yes," he had said. "it's great to be poor. best blood of new york is in those back rooms. everyone needs his poverty-stage of growth--about seven years will do. it teaches you simplicity. you step into your neighbor's room and find him washing his stockings with shaving-soap. he explains that it is better than tooth-powder for textile fabrics. also, he intimates that he has done a very serious thing in wetting down these small garments, having looked in his bag since, and learned that he has not another pair. however, he wrings them very tight and puts them on with the remark that this is a certain way to prevent shrinkage." even now, a man stood by his window in a sleeveless garment and a ruff of lather, shaving with a free hand, and a song between strokes. his was a shining morning face, indeed.... a bare feminine arm leaped quickly forth from behind a tightened curtain nearby and adjusted a flower-pot better to the sunlight. from somewhere came a girlish voice in wagner's _walkure call_. there was not a thought of effort in her carrying that lofty elaborate music--just a fine heart tuned to harmony on a rare morning. the effect is not spoiled by the glimpse of a tortured feminine face igniting a cigarette over a gas-flame that has burned all night. the vibrations of new york are too powerful for many, but there is more of health and hope than not.... a good mother cleanses a sauce-pan from her water-pitcher and showers with the rinsing a young heaven-tree far below. then she lifts in a milk-bottle from the stone ledge--and blows the dust from the top.... often at night when paula awakened she could hear the drum of a typewriter winging across the precipice--one of the night-shift helping to feed the insatiable maw of print. had new york called him? would the city crush him into a trifler, with artificial emotions, or was this a daniel come to interpret her evil dreams?... in a corner-room with two windows, sat a lame young man before an easel. almost always he was there, when there was light. heaven be with him, paula thought, if his picture failed.... and in one of the least and darkest, an old man sat writing. day after day, he worked steadily through the hours. to what god or devil had he sold his soul that he was thus condemned to eternal scrivening? this was the harrowing part. the back-floors of new york are not for the old men. back-rooms for the young men and maidens, still strong in the flight of time and the fight of competition--back-rooms for young new york. nature loses interest in the old. civilization should be kinder. from an unseen somewhere a canary poured out a veritable fire-hose torrent of melody; and along one of the lower window ledges opposite, an old gray cat was crouched, a picture of sinister listening. here was a dragon, indeed, for small, warm birds. directly opposite a curtain was lifted, and a woman, no longer young, appeared to breathe the morning. many new yorkers knew this woman for her part in children's happiness. there was a whisper that she had once been an artist's model--and had loved the artist.... there was one woman long ago--a woman with a box of alabaster--who was forgiven because she loved much.... the lady across the way loved children now, children of most unhappy fortunes. to those who came, and there were many, she gave music lessons; often all day long helping grimy fingers to falter over the keys. so she awakened poetry and planted truth-seedlings in shaded little hearts. to the children, though the lady was poor as any--in spite of her piano and a wall of books--she was lady bountiful, indeed.... paula smiled. two windows, strangely enough side by side, were curtained with stockings out to dry. in one, there were many--cerise and lavender, pink and baby blue. in the next there were but two pair, demurely black. what a world of suggestion in the contrast!... so it was always--her wall of a hundred windows, a changing panorama of folly, tragedy, toil that would not bow to hopelessness, vanity, art, sacrifice. blend them all together above the traffic's roar--and you have the spirit of young new york. she put on the brass kettle at length, crossing the room for an occasional glance into the mirror as she finished her hair.... the strange numbing power she had felt the night before crept suddenly back from her eyes now to the base of her brain, striving to cripple her volition. bellingham was calling her.... the sunlight was gone. there was a smell of hot metal in the air, as if some terrific energy had burned out the vitality. her heart hurt her from holding her breath so long. beyond all expression she was shocked and shamed. the mirror showed now a spectral paula with crimson lips and haggard eyes.... an indescribable fertility stirred within her--almost mystic, like a whisper from spiritland where little children play, waiting to be born. she could have fallen in a strange and subtle thrall of redolent imaginings, except that thought of the source of it all, the occultist--was as acid in her veins. she drank tea and crossed the street to the park for an hour. the radiance of autumn impressed her rarely; not as the death of a year, but rather as a glorious pageant of evening, the great energies of nature all crowned with fruition and preparing for rest. back in her room, she wrote the charter critique, wrote as seldom before. the cool spirit of the essayist seemed ignited with a lyric ardor. in her momentary power she conceived a great literary possibility of the future--an effulgent burns-vine blossoming forth upon the austere cliff of a carlyle. she had finished, and it was dusk when madame nestor called. for several years, at various philosophical gatherings and brotherhoods, paula, invariably stimulated by the unusual, had encountered this remarkable woman. having very little to say as a rule, madame nestor was a figure for comment and one not readily forgotten because of occasional memorable utterances. in all the cults of new york, there was likely no individual quite so out of alignment with ordinary life. indefinitely, she would be called fifty. her forehead was broad, her mouth soft. the face as a whole was heavy and flour-white. there was a distention of eyeballs and a pulpy shapelessness to her body which gave the impression of advanced physical deterioration--that peculiar kind of breaking down, often noticeable among psychics of long practice. her absolute incapacity to keep anything of value was only one characteristic of interest. madame nestor's record of apparently thoughtless generosity was truly inspiriting. "i had to see you to-day," she said, sinking down with a sigh of relief. "i sat behind you last night in prismatic hall." the younger woman recalled with a start--the whisper she had heard. she leaned forward and inquired quickly: "so it was you, madame nestor, who knew--this bellingham"--she cleared her throat as she uttered the name--"as he is now--a quarter of a century ago?" "yes. how very strange that you should have heard what i said.... you will join one of his classes, i presume?" "i can imagine doing no such thing." "dear paula, do you think it will really turn out--that you are to have no relation with bellingham?" paula repressed the instant impulse to answer sharply. the fact that she had already felt bellingham's power made the other's words a harsh irritation. "what relation could i have? he is odious to me." "i suppose i should have been a cinder long since, dear, if these were days for burning witches," madame nestor said. "when i saw bellingham's eyes settle upon you last night--it appeared to me that you are to know him well. i came here to give you what strength i could--because he is the chief of devils." "i'm only one of the working neuters of the human hive," paula managed to declare. the elder woman said a strange thing: "ah, no. the everlasting feminine is alive in your every movement. a man like bellingham would cross the world for you. some strong-souled woman sooner or later must encompass his undoing, and last night it came to me in a way to force my conviction--that you are the woman." paula bent toward her. darkness covered the centres of her mind and she was afraid. she could not laugh, for she had already met the magician's will. "but i loathe him," she whispered. "about the very name when i first heard it yesterday was an atmosphere which aroused all my antagonism." "even that--he has overcome, but it may help you to endure." "what does the man want?" "he wants life--life--floods of young, fine vitality to renew his own flesh. he wants to live on and on in the body which you have seen. it is all he has, for his soul is dead--or feeble as a frog's. he fears death, because he cannot come back. he renews his life from splendid sources of human magnetism--such as you possess. it is bellingham's hell to know that, once out of the flesh, he has not soul enough, if any, to command a human body again. you see in him an empty thing, which has lived, god knows how many years, hugging the warmth of his blood--a creature who knows that to die means the swift disintegration of an evil principle." "do you realize, madame nestor," paula asked excitedly, "that you are talking familiarly of things which may exist in books of ancient wisdom, but that this is new york--new york packed about us? new york does not reckon with such things." "the massed soul of this big city does not reckon with such things, paula. that is true, but we are apart. bellingham is apart. he is wiser than the massed soul of new york." "one might believe, even have such a religious conviction, but you speak of an actual person, the terrible inner mystery of a man, whom we have seen--a man who frightened me hideously last night--and to-day! you bring the thing home to a room in a new york apartment ... can't you see how hard to adjust, this is? i don't mean to stop or distract you, but this has become--you are helping to keep it so--such an intimate, dreadful thing!" madame nestor had been too long immersed in occultism to grasp the world's judgment of her sayings. "listen, paula, this that i tell you is inherent in every thinking man. you are bewildered by the personal nature it has assumed.... to every one of us shall come the terrible moment of choice. man is not conceived blindly to be driven. imagine a man who is become a rapidly evolving mind. on the one side is the animal-nature, curbed and obedient; on the other, his gathering soul-force. the mind balances between these two--soul and body. the time has come for him to choose between a lonely path to the heights, or the broad diverging highway, moving with pomp, dazzling with the glare of vain power, and brooded over by an arrogant materialism which slays the soul.... the spirit of man says, 'take the rising road alone.' the old world-mother sings to him from the swaying throng, 'come over and be my king. look at my arts, my palaces, my valiant young men and my glorious women. i will put worship in the hearts of the strong--for you! i will put love in the hearts of the beautiful--for you! come over and be my king! later, when you are old and have drunk deep of power--you may take the rising road alone.'" paula invariably qualified a dogmatic statement as a possibility in her own mind; but something of this--man reaching a moment of choice--had always appealed to her as a fundamental verity. man must conquer not only his body, but his brain, with its subtle dreams of power, a more formidable conflict, before the soul assumes supremacy in the mind, and man's progress to the uplands becomes a conscious and glorious ascent. "you put it with wonderful clearness, madame nestor," she said. "i am an old woman who has thought of these things until they are clear. this is the real battle of man, beside which victory over mere appetites of the body is but a boyish triumph. the intellect hungers for power and possession; to hold the many inferior intellects in its own despotic destiny. against this glittering substance of attraction is the still intangible faith of the soul--an awful moment of suspense. god or mammon--choose ye!... listen, paula, to new york below--treading the empty mill of commerce----" "new york has not chosen yet?" "no, dear, but hundreds, thousands, are learning in preparation for that moment of choice--the falseness and futility of material possessions." "that is a good thought--an incorruptible kind of optimism!" paula exclaimed.... "you think this bellingham has made the evil choice?" "yes. long ago." "yet to have arisen to the moment of choosing, you say he must have conquered the flesh." "yes." "but you depict him--i find him--desire incarnate!" "exactly, paula, because he has reverted. _the animal controls his mind, not the soul._ bellingham is retracing his way back to chaos, with a human brain, all lit with magic! out of the gathered knowledge of the ages, he has drawn his forces, which to us are mystery. he uses these secret forces of nature to prolong his own life--which is all he has. the mystic cord is severed within him. he is a body, nothing but a body--hence the passion to endure. out of the craft of the past, he has learned--who knows how long ago?--to replenish his own vitality with that of others. he gives nothing, but drains all. ah, paula, this i know too well. he is kin with those creatures of legend, the _loup-garou_, the vampire. i tell you he is an insatiable sponge for human magnetism." "past all doubt, can't bellingham turn back?" paula asked tensely. "with all his worldly knowledge, and knowing his own doom, can he not turn back--far back, a lowly-organized soul, but on the human way?" hopelessness, anywhere, was a blasting conception to her. "no. i tell you he is a living coffin. there is nothing in him to energize a pure motive. he might give a fortune to the poor, but it would be for his own gain. he could not suffer for the poor, or love them. dead within, he is detached from the great centres of virtue and purity--from all that carries the race forward, and will save us at the last. you see his frightful dependence upon this temporal physical instrument, since all the records of the past and the unwritten pages of the future are wiped out? isn't it a sheer black horror, paula,--to know that from the great tide of hopeful humanity, one is set apart; to know that the amazing force which has carried one from a cell in the ooze to thinking manhood must end with this red frightened heart; to be forced, for the continuance of life, to feed upon the strength of one woman after another--always fairer and finer----" the look of hatred in the speaker's face had become a banner of havoc. "can he not stop that kind of devouring?" paula exclaimed. "would there not be hope--if he battled with that--put _that_ vampirism behind?" madame nestor regarded the other steadily, until all distortion of feature had given away to her accustomed mildness. then she uttered an unforgettable question: "_can a tiger eat grains?_" vast ranges of terrible understanding were suggested. "it is my duty, if i ever had a duty," the caller went on, "to make you know bellingham as i know him. you must have no pity." "is there really no fact by which his age can be determined?" "none that i know. twenty-five years ago, when he left me hideously wise and pitifully drained, he looked as he does now." "but why, oh why, do you always think of me with bellingham?" paula asked hopelessly. "i watched his face when he regarded you last night. i knew the look." "what is to prevent me from never seeing him? he cannot force himself upon me here--in the flesh.... certainly you would not tell him where i am, where i go--if i begged you not to!" madame nestor shuddered. "no, paula. it is because you are frightened and tormented that such a thought comes. it is i who am showing you the real bellingham. he menaces my race. none but big-souled women are useful to him now. he is drawn to them, as one hungry, as one always hungry. it is he first who is drawn. then they begin to feel and respond to his occult attraction. the time might have come when you would worship him--had i not warned you. i did. i was quite his--until i learned. a woman knows no laws in the midst of an attraction like this. no other man suffices----" "but why--why do you prepare _me_? do you think i cannot resist?" paula asked furiously. she felt the bonds about her already. the blood rose hot and rebellious at the thought of being bound. it was the old hideous fear of a locked room--the shut-in horror which meant suffocation. "if i thought you could not resist, paula," madame nestor said, "i should advise you to flee to the remotest country--this moment. i should implore you never to allow from your side your best and strongest friend. but i have studied your brain, your strength, your heart. i love you for the thought that has come to me--that it is you, paula linster, who is destined to free the race from this destroyer." often in the last half-hour had come a great inward revolt against the trend of her caller's words. it passed through paula again, yet she inquired how she could thus be the means. "by resisting him. bellingham once told me--trust him, this was after i was fully his--that if i had matched his force with a psychic resistance equally as strong--it would mortally have weakened him. so if he seeks to subvert your will and fails, this great one-pointed power of his, developed who knows how long--will turn and rend itself. this is an occult law." paula could understand this--the wild beast of physical desire rending itself at the last--but not the conception of hopelessness--bellingham cut off from immortality. the woman divined her thoughts. "again i beg of you," she said in excitement, "not to let a thought of pity for him insinuate itself in your brain--not the finest point of it! think of yourself, of the great good which must sustain you, of the benefit to your race--think of the women less strong! fail in this, and bellingham will absorb your splendid forces, and let you fall back into the common as i did--to rise again, ah, so bitterly, so wearily!... but i cannot imagine you failing, you strong young queen, and the women like me, the legion of emptied shells he has left behind--we shall canonize you, paula, if you shatter the vampire's power." thoughts came too fast for speech now. they burned paula's mind--a destructive activity, because ineffectual. she wanted to speak of the shameful experience of the morning, but she could not bring the words to confession. "i had almost forgotten," she said lightly at length, "that it is well for one to eat and drink. stay, won't you please, and share a bite of supper with me, madame nestor? we'll talk of other things. i am deadly tired of bellingham." a hungry man would have known no repletion from the entire offering which sufficed for these two, forgotten of appetite. wafers of dark bread, a poached egg, pickles, a heart of lettuce and a divided melon, cake and tea--yet how fully they fared!... they were talking about children and fairy tales over the teacups, when paula encountered again that sinister mental seizure--the occultist's influence creeping back from her reason to that part of the brain man holds in common with animals.... the lights of the room dimmed; her companion became invisible. bellingham was calling: "come to me--won't you come and help me in my excellent labors? come to me, paula. we can lift the world together--you and i. wonderful are the things for me to show you--you who are already so wise and so very beautiful. paula linster,--come to me!" again and again the words were laid upon her intelligence, until she heard them only. all the rest was an anterior murmuring, as of wind and rivers. the words were pressed down upon the surfaces of her brain, like leaf after leaf of gold-beaters' film--and hammered and hammered there.... he was in a great gray room, sitting at a desk, but staring at her, as if there were no walls or streets between--just a little bit of blackness.... she seemed to know just where to go. she felt the place for her was there in the great gray room--a wonderful need for her there.... but a door opened into the room where he sat--a door she had not seen, for she had not taken her eyes from his face. a woman came in, a pale woman, a shell of beauty. the huge tousled head at the desk turned from her to the woman who entered. paula saw his profile alter hideously.... her own bright room filled her eyes again, and the ashen horror on the countenance of madame nestor, who seemed vaguely to see it all. "i think i should have gone to him," paula murmured, in the slow, flat tone of one not yet quite normally conscious. "there is but one way, you poor distressed child--to build about you a fortress of purity--which he cannot penetrate----" "i think i should have known the car to take--the place to enter," paula went on, unheeding, "the elevator entrance--the door of the room----" madame nestor continued to implore her to pray. paula shivered finally, and stared at the other for a few seconds, as if recalling the words the visitor had spoken, and the past she had lived with bellingham. her terrible rage toward herself spread and covered madame nestor. did not the latter still dip here, there, and everywhere in the occult and weird? might she not have something to do with the projectiles of desire? "i think i'd better be alone now," she said hoarsely. "one does not feel like invoking the pure presence--when one is chosen for such defilement." third chapter certain developing incidents are caught into the current of narrative--also a supper with reifferscheid in the week that followed, paula's review of quentin charter's new book appeared. as a bit of luxury reading, she again went over "a damsel came to peter." it stood up true and strong under the second reading--the test of a real book. the western writer became a big figure in her mind. she thought of him as a soul; with a certain gladness to know that he was out there; that he refused to answer the call of new york; that he had waited until he was an adult to make his name known, and could not now be cramped and smothered and spoiled. there was a sterilized purity about parts of his work--an uncompromising thunder against the fleshly trends of living--to which she could only associate asceticism, celibacy, and mystic power. he was altogether an abstraction, but she was glad that he lived--in the west and in her brain. also her mind was called to lower explorations of life; moments in which it seemed as if every tissue within her had been carried from arctic repressions to the springing verdures of the indies. a sound, an odor, a man's step, the voice of a child, would start the spell, especially in moments of receptivity or aimless pondering. thoughts formed in a lively fascinating way, tingling dreamily over her intelligence, dilating her nostrils with indescribable fragrance, brushing her eyelids half-closed,--until she suddenly awoke to the fact that this was not herself, but bellingham's thirst playing upon her. beyond words dreadful then, it was to realize this thing in her brain--to feel it spread hungrily through her veins and localize in her lips, her breast, and the hollow of her arms. bellingham crushed the trained energies of his thought-force into her consciousness, rendering her helpless. though he was afterward banished, certain physical forces which he aroused did not fall asleep.... frequently came that malignant efflorescence. her name was called; the way shown her. once when she was summoned to the 'phone, she knew that it was he, but could not at first resist. reason came at the sound of her own hoarse and frightened voice. again one night, between nine and ten, when bellingham was in power, she had reached the street and was hurrying toward the surface-car in central park west. her name was jovially called by reifferscheid. he accompanied her through the park and back to her door. he said he thought that she was working too hard, confessed himself skeptical about her eating enough. one thought apart from these effects, paula could not shake from her mind: were there human beings with dead or dying souls? did she pass on the street men and women in whom the process of soul-starvation was complete or completing? could there be human mind-cells detached from hope, holiness, charity, eternity, and every lovely conception; infected throughout with earth's descending destructive principle? the thought terrorized her soul, so that she became almost afraid to glance into the face of strangers. to think of any man or woman without one hope! this was insufferable. compared with this, there is no tragedy, and the wildest physical suffering is an easy temporal thing. she felt like crying from the housetops: "listen to pity; love the good; cultivate a tender conscience; be clean in body and humble in mind! nothing matters but the soul--do not let that die!" then she remembered that every master of the bright tools of art had depicted this message in his own way; every musician heard it among the splendid harmonies that winged across his heaven; every prophet stripped himself of all else, save this message, and every mystic was ordered up to nineveh to give it sound. indeed, every great voice out of the multitude was a cry of the soul. it came to her as never before, that all uplift is in the words, _love one another_. if only the world would see and hear! and the world was so immovable--a locked room that resisted her strength. this was her especial terror--a locked room or a locked will.... once when she was a little girl, she released a caged canary that belonged to a neighbor, and during her punishment, she kept repeating: "_it has wings--wings!_" * * * * * liberty, spaces of sky, shadowed running streams, unbroken woods where the paths were so dim as not to disturb the dream of undiscovered depths--in the midst of these, paula had found, as a girl, a startling kind of happiness. she was tireless in the woods, and strangely slow to hunger. no gloomy stillness haunted her; the sudden scamper of a squirrel or rabbit could not shake her nerves, nor even the degraded spiral of a serpent gliding to cover. her eyelids narrowed in the midst of confinements. school tightened her lips; much of it, indeed, put a look of hopeless toleration in her eyes, but the big, silent woods quickly healed her mind; in them she found the full life. at one time, her father essayed to lock her in a closet. paula told him she would die if he did, and from the look upon the child's face, he could not doubt.... he had directly punished her once, and for years afterward, she could not repress a shudder at his touch. she would serve him in little things, bring him the choicest fruits and flowers; she anticipated his wants in the house and knew his habits as a caged thing learns the movements of its keepers; invariably, she was respectful and apt--until her will was challenged. then her mother would weaken and her father passed on with a smile. "paula does not permit me to forget that i have the honor to be her father," he once said. reading grew upon her unconsciously. there was a time when she could not read, another when she could. she did not remember the transition, but one afternoon, when she was barely five, she sat for hours in the parlor still as a mole, save for the turning leaves--sat upon a hassock with grimm. it was _the foster brother_ which pioneered her mind. that afternoon endured as one of the most exquisite periods of her life. the pleasure was so intense that she felt she must be doing wrong. grimm explained the whole world, in proving the reality of fairies. the soul of the child had always been awake to influences her associates missed. wonderful grimm cleared many mysteries--the unseen activities of the woods, the visitors of the dark in her room before she was quite asleep; the invisible weaving behind all events. later, books inevitably brought out the element of attraction between man and woman, but such were the refinements of her home that nothing occurred to startle her curiosity. it was left to the friendly woods to reveal a mystery and certain ultimate meanings.... she was sick with the force of her divining; the peace and purity of her mind shattered. the accruing revelations of human origin were all that she could bear. she rebelled against the manner of coming into the world, a heaven-high rebellion. something of pity mingled with her reverence for her mother. for years, she could not come to a belief that the most high god had any interest in a creature of such primal defilement. queerly enough, it was the great preparer, darwin, who helped her at the last. man having come up through dreadful centuries from an earth-bent mouth and nostril, to a pitying heart and a lifted brow--has all the more hope of becoming an angel.... there was something of the nature of a birthmark in paula's loathing for the animal in man and woman. her mother had been sheltered in girlhood to such an extent that the mention of a corsage-ribbon would have offended. very early, she had married, and the first days of the relation crushed illusions that were never restored. the birth of paula ended a period of inordinate sorrow, which brought all the fine threads of her life into wear, gave expression to the highest agony of which she was capable, and ravelled out her emotions one by one. as a mother, she was rather forceless; the excellent elements of her lineage seemed all expended in the capacities of the child. her limitations had not widened in the dark months, nor had her nature refined. it was as if the heart of the woman had lost all its color and ardor. the great sweep of paula's emotions; her strangeness, her meditative mind and heart-hunger for freedom; her love for open spaces, still groves and the prophylactic trends of running water--all expressed, without a doubt, the mysterious expiration of her mother's finer life. but something beyond heredity, distances beyond the reach of human mind to explain, was the lofty quality of the child's soul. very old it was, and wise; very strange and very strong. paula never failed afterward in a single opportunity to spare younger girl-friends from the savagery of revelation, as it had come to her. the bare truth of origin, she made radiant with illimitable human possibilities.... her dream beyond words was some time to give the world a splendid man or woman. loving, and loved by a strong-souled, deep-thinking man; theirs the fruit of highest human concord; beautiful communions in the midst of life's nobilities, and the glory of these on the brow of their child--such was her dream of womanhood, whitened through many vicissitudes. her mother died when paula was twenty. the call came in the night. in the summons was that awful note which tells the end. her mother was on the border and crossing swiftly. paula screamed. there was no answer, but a faint ruffle on the brow that had been serene. "mother!... mother!" a last time--then the answer: "don't--call--me,--paula! oh, it--hurts--so--to be--called--back!" after that, the dying was a matter of hours and great pain. had she come to her in silence, the tired spirit would have lifted easily. so paula learned, by terrible experience, the inexpressible value of silence in a room with death. she had been very close to the mystery. holding her mother's hand and praying inaudibly at the last, she had felt the final wrench to the very core of her being.... departure, indeed; paula was never conscious of her mother's spirit afterward. it is probably futile to inquire if a child of one's flesh is invariably one's spiritual offspring.... an ineffectual girl, the mother became a hopeless woman. in the interval, out of the grinding of her forces, was produced a fervent heat.... did blind negative suffering make her receptive to a gifted child, or did paula's mother merely give, from her own lovely flesh, a garment for a spirit-alien from a far and shining country? * * * * * three or four mornings after the charter critique, paula brought further work down-town. reifferscheid swung about in his chair and stared at her fully thirty seconds. then he spoke brusquely, possibly to hide his embarrassment: "take these three books home, but don't bother with them to-day. i want you back here at four o'clock. you are to go out to supper with me." the idea was not exactly pleasant. she had seen reifferscheid only a few times apart from his desk, where she liked him without reservation. she had always pictured him as a club-man--a typically successful new yorker, with a glitter of satire and irreverent humor about all his sayings. the thought of a supper with reifferscheid had a bit of supper heaviness about it. the club type she preferred to know from a sort of middle distance.... "won't you, please?" his change of manner was effective. all brusqueness was gone. paula saw his real earnestness, and the boyish effort of its expression. there was no reason for her to refuse, and she hesitated no longer. yet she wondered why he had asked her, and searched her mind to learn why she could not see him at leisure, apart from a club-window's leather chair; at some particular table in a grill or buffet, or enlivening a game of billiards with his inimitable characterizations. one of the finest and most effective minds she had ever contacted belonged to this editor. his desk was the symbol to her of concentrated and full-pressure strenuousness; in his work was all that was sophisticated and world-weathered, but she could neither explain nor overcome the conviction that his excellence was in spite of, rather than the result of his life outside.... she met him on the stroke of four in the entrance to _the states_ building, and he led the way at once to south ferry, where they took the staten island boat. she felt that he was not at ease in the crowds, but it was a fact, also, that he did not appear so huge and froggy in the street, as in the crowded office she knew so well. "yes, i live over yonder," he said, drawing two stools to the extreme forward of the deck. "i supposed you knew. the nearest way out of new york, this is. besides, you get full five cents' worth of sea voyage, and it's really another country across the bay. that's the main thing--not a better country, but different." little was said on the boat. it was enough to breathe the sea and contemplate the distances. she scarcely noticed which of the trolley-cars he helped her into at the terminal; but they were out of town presently, where there were curving country roads, second-growth hills, and here and there a dim ravine to cool the eye. then against the sky she discovered a black ribbon of woods. it was far and big to her eyes, full of luring mysteries that called to her--her very own temples.... turning to reifferscheid, she found that he had been regarding her raptly. he coughed and jerked his head the other way, delightfully embarrassed. "guess you like it here," he said after a moment. "i knew you would. i knew i ought to make you come, somehow. you see, you're a little too fit--drawn just a trifle too fine. it isn't that you're out of condition; just the contrary. when one's drawn so fine as you are, one wears--just from living at joy speed.... we get off here." "it's incredible that you should have a house all to yourself!" they were walking on the grass that edged the road. it had taken an hour and a half to come. dusk was beginning to crowd into the distances. ahead on either side of the road were a few houses with land between. "whatever you call it," said reifferscheid, "it's all in one piece. there it is yonder--'a wee cot, a cricket's chirr--sister annie and the glad face of her----'" "a little white house under big trees!" paula exclaimed joyously. "and what's that big dug-out thing behind?" reifferscheid chuckled. "dug-out is excellent. that's the aquarium and the lily-lakes. i made those sierras and clothed their titanic flanks with forests of sod." "don't ask me to speak.... all this is too wonderful for words...." to think that she had imagined this man-mammoth sitting in a club-window. in truth, she was somewhat perturbed for wronging him, though delighted with the whole expedition. sister annie was startling, inasmuch as her face was as fresh and wholesome as a snow-apple, and yet she could not leave her invalid's chair unassisted. she was younger than reifferscheid. "i'm so glad to have you come, miss linster," she said. "tim was really set upon it. he speaks of you so frequently that i wanted to meet you very much. i can't get over to the city often." "tim." this was the name of names. paula had known nothing beyond "t. reifferscheid." one after another, little joys like this unfolded. "it will be too dark after supper," the sister added. "tim won't be content until you see his system of ponds. you better go with him now." reifferscheid already filled the side-door. evidently inspection was the first and only formality demanded of the guest at the cottage. paula followed him up a tiny gravel path to the rim of the top pond--a saucer of cement, eighteen inches deep and seven or eight feet across. it was filled with pond-weed and nelumbo foliage. gold fish and stickle-backs played in the shadowed water. "it isn't the time of year, you know," he said apologetically. "the lilies are through blossoming, and in a week or two, i'll have to take my fishes back to winter-quarters. you see my water supply comes from silver lake. the great main empties here." (paula followed his finger to the nozzle of a hose that hung over the rim of cement on the top pond.) "the stream overflows in montmorency falls yonder,"--(this, a trickle down the gravel to the second pond)--"from which, you can hear the roar of the cataracts into the lower lake, which waters the lands of plenty all about." his look of surprise and disappointment at her laughter was irresistible. "the saurians are all in the depths, but you can see some of my snails," he went on. "you'd be surprised how important my herd of snails is in the economy of this whole lake country." he picked up a pebble from the edge of the water, pointing out the green slime that covered it. "these are spores of a very influential vegetable, called _algæ_, which spreads like cholera and vegetates anywhere in water that is not of torrential temperament. without my snails, the whole system would be a thick green soup in a month. it's getting a little dark to see the stickle-back nests. they domesticate very curiously. next year, i'll have a fountain.... the second-tank contains a frail, northern variety of water-hyacinths, some rock bass, and a turtle or two. below are the cattails and ferns and mosses. in the summer, that lower pond is a jungle, but the lilies and lotuses up here are really choice when in blossom. the overflow of water rejoices the bugs and posies generally. annie likes the yard-flowers." paula would not have dared to say how enchantingly these toy-lakes and lily-beds had adjusted, in her mind, to the nature of the big man beside her, whose good word was valued by every sincere and important literary worker in the country. tim reifferscheid turning out his tremendous tasks in new york, would never be quite the same to her again, since she had seen him playing with his hose in his own back yard, and heard him talk about his snails and lilies, and the land posies that sister annie liked. down-town, he had always stimulated her, but here with his toy-engineering and playful watersheds, he was equally bracing and just as admirable. darkness was covering them. "i must see it all again," she said. "i want to come when the lilies are blossoming. i could watch the fishes and things--for hours. really, i will never call it a dug-out again." she saw him grinning in the dusk. "come in to supper," he said. "you see, anything smaller than a staten island back-yard would hardly do for me to play in. then there's a stillness about here that i like. it makes your ears ache a little at first. you wake up in the middle of the night and think you're under the earth somewhere, or disembodied. finally it comes to you that there's nothing to be afraid of except the silence. a man's head gets to need it after a time. as a matter of fact, there's no place across the bay for a fat man after working hours." "miss linster," called sister annie as they entered. paula followed the voice into a speckless spare room. "supper will be served in a moment," the other said. "i just wanted to tell you--tim will take you back to the city to-night, grateful for the chance, but do you really have to go? this little room is yours, and you can go over together in the morning. then a night in this stillness will calm you back into a little girl. tim doesn't know i'm asking you. please do just as you want----" paula didn't have the heart to drag the big brother back to town. "why," she said laughingly, "i'd much rather stay than not. think how good this all is to me! i didn't have an idea when he asked me, other than a restaurant somewhere in new york." "i am so glad.... tim----" he tried not to look relieved at the announcement. "really, i didn't put annie up to this, but if you are content to stay, i think it will smooth you out a bit." after supper the three sat out in the yard. there was a heavy richness in the air, a soft sea-wind flavored with wood-fires and finished fields. reifferscheid smoked his pipe and did most of the talking. "i glanced over bertram lintell's new book--out to-day," he said. "it sort of hurts. two or three months ago, i dropped in on him while he was doing it.... i have always had a certain interest in lintell because i accepted his first story seven or eight years ago, as a magazine reader.... you may not know that nine-tenths of the unsolicited fiction material in a magazine's mail is a personal affront to intelligence at large. nowhere does a man show the youth of his soul so pitifully as when first alone with white paper and an idea. he shakes down a crow's rookery and believes in his heart it's an eagle's nest. that there are men in the world paid to open his package, inspect and return same respectfully--and do it again--is an uncommercial peculiarity of a most commercial age. editors rely upon the more or less technically flawless products of the trained, the "arrived"; writers who have forgotten their dreams--rung the bell once or twice--and show a willingness to take money for the echoes. "an expensive reading staff is not necessary for these contributors; their stuff goes to the heart of things at once. but what sorry caravans halt in the outer courts of a magazine-office; what sick, empty, unwashed confusion is impounded there! yet a company of men moves ever through and about, peering into the unsightly, unsavory packs--ever ordering away, ever clearing the court, lest the mess rise to heaven.... but perfect pearls have been found in these restless, complaining trash-heaps, and will be found again. men are there to glance at all, because one of these pearls is worth a whole necklace of seconds. there's no way out of it. to make lasting good in the literary game, one must be steeled to reverses--long, ugly corroding reverses. this is the price which a man pays for the adjustment of his brain and hand to the needs of the time. as flesh needs bone, he needs these reverses. they clear the fat from the brain; increase the mental circuits, and lend to the fibres that firm delicacy which alone can carry live hot emotions without blowing out, and big voltage ideas swift and true to their appointed brilliance of expression. "i'm gabbing a lot, but i was going to tell you about bertram lintell. i was first in the office to get his manuscript, and i raised the cry of 'pearl.' it was faulty, but full of the arrogance of unhurt youth. the face of twenty-one with all its unlined audacity stared out from the pages, and every page was an excursion. here was a true subconscious ebullition--a hang-over from a previous incarnation, like as not. it was hard, glassy, but the physical prowess of it stimulated. frank, brutal boyishness--that was the attraction. i shouldn't have taken it." "you what?" paula asked. "it was a shame to take it," reifferscheid mused, "but someone else--the next man, would have. you see, he needed buffeting--seven years at least. i knew he didn't have the beam and displacement to stand making good so young. it was doing him an evil turn, but we sent him the brass tag that shines like gold. lintell was not adult enough to twig the counterfeit, not mellowed enough to realize that nothing is so sordid, nothing labeled so securely to failure, as conscious success. as i say, i saw him at work two or three months ago. he was a patch-haired, baby lion still, dictating stories first draft to a stenographer, supplying demand like a huckster--the real treasure-house of his soul locked for life and the key thrown away.... even money turns the head of the multitude, but money is small beer compared to the fiery potential wine of literary recognition. long hammering, refining reverses, alone prepare a man for this. quentin charter said something of the kind: that a young writer should live his lean years full length, and if he really craters the mountain, he will praise every god in the pantheon because his achievements were slow. "lintell's present stuff is insufferable. the point is he may have had in the beginning no less a gift than charter's. that's why the new book sickens me so.... by the way, i got a letter from charter this afternoon. i meant to bring it along, but i'll pass it over to you in the morning. it's yours, miss linster, though he did me the honor to think that i had written his critique. he says you crawled right inside his book. we don't usually answer letters of this kind. there are writers, you know, glad to turn a review office into an admiration exchange. but you'll want to write to charter, i'm sure. he's different." paula did not answer, but she was pleased and excited that her review had been a joy to this thunderer of the west, and that he had answered her tidings of high hope for the future. fourth chapter paula encounters her adversary who turns prophet and tells of a starry child soon to be born paula went upstairs to the editorial rooms with reifferscheid the following morning for charter's letter. this she carried into the city-office to be alone. forenoon is the dead time of a morning newspaper. the place seemed still tired from the all-night struggle to spring a paper to the streets. she thrust up a window for fresh air and sat down in a reporter's chair to read.... the letter was big with boyish delight. "when a man spends a couple of years growing and trimming a pile of stuff into a sizable book," he had written, "and the first of the important reviews comes in with such a message of enthusiasm, it is the heart's 'well-done' long waited for." beyond this, there was only a line or two about the book. it had been in the publisher's hands six months, and he was cold to it now. _the states_ had interested him, however, because there was an inclination in the article to look at his work to come. in fact, some of the thoughts of the reviewer, he wrote, were sympathetic with the subject-matter simmering in his mind. naturally, the coincidence had thrilled him. charter, believing that reifferscheid had done the work, wrote with utmost freedom. this attracted paula, as it gave her a glimpse of a certain fineness between men who admire each other. the issue was not closed.... she wanted to answer the letter then and there at the reporter's desk, but reifferscheid knew she had not gone. he might come in--and laugh at her precipitation. after a night of perfect rest, paula's mind was animated with thoughts of work--until she reached the _zoroaster_. something of bellingham's tormenting energy was heavy in the atmosphere of her rooms. when passing the full-length mirror, she turned her face away in fear. impatiently she caught up one of the new books (and charter's letter for a marker), and hurried across to the park. the fall days were still flawless. it was not yet ten in the morning, and few people were abroad. she sat down upon one of the weathered knobs of manhattan rock which had worn through the thin skin of soil, and allowed herself to think of the formidable affliction. to all intents, the magician had dispossessed her of the rooms, identified for years with her personality and no other. she could not put away the truth that the full forces of her mind were at bay before the psychic advances of the dreadful stranger. this was not long to be endured. inasmuch that his power did not harmlessly glance from her, she felt that there must be great potentialities of evil within herself. this conviction made her frightened and desperate. she should have known that it was her inner development, her sensitiveness which had made her so potent an attraction for bellingham. the substance of her whole terror was that there had been moments under his spell, when she had not been at all the mistress of her own will. the suggestions which he projected had seemed to her the good and proper actions. she knew it as a law--that every time her own divine right to the rule of her faculties was thus usurped by an evil force, her resistance was weakened. yet there was a shocking unfairness in the thought that she was not given a chance. in the throne-room of her mind, she was not queen. all the sacred fortifications of self seemed broken, even the soul's integrity debased, when bellingham crushed his way in and forced her to obey. this is the great psychological crime. when one has broken into the sacred precincts, the door is left open for other malignant, earth-bound entities foully to enter and betray.... there was no one in whom she could confide, but madame nestor. almost any professional man, a physician especially, would have called her revelations hysterical.... her constant and growing fear was of the time when she should be called by bellingham--and nothing would supervene to save her. some time the spell might not be broken. she became ill with tension and shame as this unspeakable possibility seethed through her mind.... better death than to continue in being passion-ridden by this defiler, in the presence of whom she became so loathsome in her own sight--that she dared not pray.... somewhere far off children were talking. their voices warmed and cleansed her mind. there was a stimulating thud of hoofs on the turf-roads. she tried to read now. her eyes travelled dutifully along the lines of her book, without bringing forth even the phase of a thought from the page of print. a swift step drew her glance down the foot-path. bellingham was approaching. his shoulders were thrown back, his long arms swinging so that every muscle was in play, striding forward at incredible speed. he filled his lungs with every cubic inch of morning air they could contain, and expelled the volume with gusto. she had once seen a rugged englishman take his exercise as seriously as this, on the promenade of an atlantic liner before the breakfast-gong. to all appearances, bellingham did not have a thought apart from his constitutional. paula sat very still on the rock. her slightest movement now would attract his attention. it occurred to her afterwards that she had been like a crippled squirrel huddled in the fork of a tree--the hunter and his dog below.... at the point where the path was nearest her, he halted. the thing happened exactly as she might have conceived it in a story. for a moment he seemed to be searching his mind for the meaning of his impulse to stop. an unforgettable figure, this, as he stood there with lifted head, concentrating upon the vagary which had brought him to a standstill.... paula may have been mistaken in her terror, but she never relinquished the thought that her proximity was known to him--before his face turned unerringly to the rock and his bright gray eyes filled with her presence. "you are miss linster?" he asked, smiling agreeably. she nodded, not trusting her voice. "you attended the first of my prismatic hall lectures ten days ago?... i seldom forget a face, and i remember asking one of my committee your name." paula found it rather a unique effort to hold in mind the truth that she had never spoken to this man before. then the whole trend of her mental activity was suddenly complicated by the thought that all her past terrors might be groundless. possibly madame nestor was insane on this subject. "it may be that her mad words and my stimulated imagination have reared a monster that has no actuality." the bracing voices of the children, the brilliance of mid-forenoon, the man's kingly figure, agreeable courtesy, and commanding health--indeed, apart from the eyes in which she hardly dared to glance, there was nothing to connect him even vaguely with the sinister persecutions which bore his image. the whole world-mind was with him. what right had she to say that the world-mind was in error and she normal--she and the unreckonable madame nestor?... paula recalled the strange intensity of her mental life for years, and the largeness of her solitudes. the world-mind would say she was beside herself from much study.... more than all, no power was exerted upon her now. who would believe that this bellingham, with miles of the metropolis between them, had repeatedly over-ridden her volition, when she felt no threatening influence at the present moment, almost within his reach--only the innate repulsion and the fear of her fears? "i hope to see you again at the meetings, miss linster." "they do not attract me." "that is important, if unpleasant to learn," he remarked, as if genuinely perturbed. "i have been studying for a long time, and perhaps i have taken a roundabout road to discovery. it is quite possible that the values of my instruction are over-estimated by many.... do you mind if i sit down a moment? i have walked a hundred squares and will start back from here." from his manner it was impossible to imagine irony covert in his humbleness. "certainly not, though i must return to my apartment in a moment.... i did not like the atmosphere--the audience--that first night," paula added. "nor did i, altogether," he said quickly. "but how can one choose the real, if all are not admitted at first? with each lecture you will find a more select company, and there will be very few when the actual message is unfolded." he glanced away as if to determine the exact point through the trees from which the children's voices came. his profile was unquestionably that of an aristocrat. the carriage of his head, the wonderful development of his figure, his voice and the gentle temper of his answers, even the cut of his coat and the elegance of his shoes suggested an unconscious and invariable refinement which controverted the horror he had once seemed. "it may be that i am not quite like other people," she said, "but i cannot think of physical perfection as the first aim in life." "nor can i," he answered; "still i think that after the elimination of poisons from the physical organism, one's mental and spiritual powers are quickened and freer to develop." "do you always shape your philosophy to meet the objections of your disciples--so?" "you are stimulating, miss linster, but i have made no concession to adapt myself to your views. i only declared that i weed out my classes before real work begins, and that physical disease retards mental growth. i might add that i do not lecture for money." "why do you teach only women?" "there are several reasons," he replied readily enough. "i have found that a mixed audience is not receptive; there is a self-consciousness, sometimes worse, something of a scoffing spirit, which breaks the point of my appeal. women are aroused to interest when a man appeals directly to them. they do not like to betray a profound interest in any subject apart from the household--when their lords are present. man instinctively combats any source which tends toward mental emancipation on the part of women. it is only a few decades ago that women were forced to abide entirely within their domestic circle. instead of using a superior physical strength now to keep her there, man's tendency is to ridicule her outside interests. so i have found that women prefer to study alone." bellingham answered thus circuitously, but his manner suggested that he was grateful for the inquiry, since it gave him an opportunity to express matters which had only been half-formed in his mind. paula, whose every question had come from an inclination to confound him, began to realize that the spirit was unworthy and partook of impertinence. "i believe in automatic health," she said impatiently. "it seems to me that refinement means this: that in real fineness all such things are managed with a sort of unconscious art. for instance, i should not have health at the price of walking twice a hundred blocks in a forenoon----" "the point is eminently reasonable, miss linster," bellingham remarked with a smile. "but what i find it well to do, i rarely advise for others. i am from a stock of powerful physical men. my fathers were sailors and fishermen. they gave me an organism which weakens if i neglect exercise, and i seem to require about five times as much physical activity as many men of the present generation. i have absolutely no use for this tremendous muscular strength; in fact, i should gladly be less strong if it could be accomplished without a general deterioration. the point is, that a man with three or four generations of gentle-folk behind him, can keep in a state of glowing health at the expense of about one-fifth the physical energy that i burn--who come from rough men of mighty outdoor labors." this was very reasonable, except that he seemed far removed in nature from the men of boats and beaches. she had dared to glance into his face as he spoke, and found an impression from the diamond hardness of his eyes, entirely different from that which came through listening merely. but for this glance, it never would have occurred to her, that her questions had stretched his faculties to the slightest tension. she would have arisen to go now, but he resumed: "i cannot bear to have you think that my energies are directed entirely in the interests of lifting the standards of health, miss linster. really, this is but a small part of preparation. it was only because i felt you ready for the important truths--that i regretted your absence after the first night. do you know that we live in the time of a spiritual high-tide? it is clear to me that the whole race is lifting with a wonderful inner animation. in the next quarter of a century great mystic voices shall be heard. and there shall be one above all.... i tell you people are breaking down under the tyranny of their material possessions. after desire--comes the burden of holding. we are approaching the great _ennui_ which carlyle prophesied. there is no longer a gospel of materialism. the great english and german teachers whose work was regarded as supreme philosophy by the people ten years ago, are shown to be pitiful failures in our colleges to-day--or at best, specialists of one particular stage of evolution, who made the mistake of preaching that their little division in the great cosmic line was the whole road. materialism died out of germany a few years ago--with a great shock of suicide. the mystics are teaching her now. i assure you the dawn is breaking for a great spiritual day such as the world has never seen. soon a great light shall cover the nations and evil shall crawl into the holes of the earth where it is dark.... there is shortly to be born into the world--a glorious child. while he is growing to celestial manhood--new voices shall rise here and everywhere preparing the way. one of these new voices--one of the very least of these--is bellingham to whom you listen so impatiently." every venture into the occult had whispered this child-promise in paula's ears. there was such a concerted understanding of this revelation among the cults, that the thought had come to her that perhaps this was a delusion of every age. yet she had seen a hindu record dated a hundred years before, prophesying the birth of a superman in the early years of the twentieth century. there was scarcely a division among the astrologers on this one point. she had even been conscious in the solitudes of her own life of a certain mystic confidence of such a fulfillment.... she dared not look into bellingham's face at such a moment. the ghastly phase of the whole matter was to hear this prophecy repeated by one to whom the illustrious prospect (if he were, as she had believed) could become only an awful illumination of the hell to which he was condemned. it was--only unspeakably worse--like hearing a parrot croak, "feed our souls with the bread of life!..." paula stirred in her seat, and charter's letter dropped from the book in her lap. she seized it with a rush of grateful emotion. it was a stanchion in her mind now filled with turbulence. "there never was a time when woman's intelligence was so eager and rational; never a time," bellingham went on, "when men were so tired of metals and meals and miles. the groan for the absolutely new, for the utmost in sense and the weirdest of sensations, for speed to cover distances and to overcome every obstacle, even thin air--all these express the great weariness of the flesh and make clear to the prophetic understanding that man is nearing the end of his lessons in three dimensions and five senses. there is a stirring of the spirit-captive in the worn mesh of the body." the woman traced her name with her forefinger upon the cover of the book in her lap; again and again, "paula--paula--paula." it was a habit she had not remembered for years. as a little girl when she fought against being persuaded contrary to her will, she would hold herself in hand thus, by wriggling "paula" anywhere. all that bellingham said was artfully calculated to inspire her with hope and joy in the world. so marvelously were the words designed to carry her high in happiness, that there was a corresponding tension of terror in remembering that bellingham uttered them. yet she would have felt like a lump of clay had she not told him: "what you say is very wonderful to me." "and it is the women who are most sensitive to the light--women who are already unfolding in the rays, yet so far-flung and dim." bellingham's voice was a quick emotionless monotone. "perhaps you have noted the great amalgamation of clubs and classes of women which each year turns its power to more direct effort and valuable study. another thing, let the word genius be whispered about any child or youth, and he becomes at once the darling of rich matrons. what does this mean--this desire of woman to bring out the latent powers of a stranger's child? this veiled, beautiful quality is the surest sign of all. it is the spirit of rebecca--which, even in the grief for her own dead babe, turns thrillingly to mother a wayfarer's starry child. verily, when a woman begins to dream about bringing prophets into the world--the giants of those other days are close to her, crowding closer, eager to be born again." paula turned to him and arose. his face was not kindled. it was as if he were an actor reading lines to memorize, not yet trying to simulate the contained emotions. there is a glow of countenance where fine thought-force is in action, but bellingham's face was not lit with the expiration of mind-energy, though his eyes glittered with set, bird-like brightness. "i must hurry away now," she told him hastily. "i must think upon what you have said." "i truly wish," he added softly, and with a kindness she felt, because her eyes were turned from him, "that you would join one of my wiser classes. you would be an inspiration. besides, the little things that have been given me to tell--should be known by the very few who have reached your degree of evolution." "thank you," she faltered. "i must think." "good-by, miss linster." reaching the street in front of her apartment house, she turned just in time to see him disappear among the trees. he strode forward as if this were his world, and his days had been a continuous pageant of victories.... her rooms were all cleared of disorder, her mind refreshed and stimulated.... that night between eleven and twelve she was writing to charter. there were a half dozen penned pages before her, and a smile on her lips. she poured out a full heart to the big western figure of cleanliness and strength--wrote to the man she wanted him to be.... the day had been strange and expanding. she had suffered no evil. the thoughts remaining with her from the talk in the park were large with significance, and they had cleared slowly from the murkiness of their source. these, and the ideal of manhood she was building out of charter's book and letter and reifferscheid's little sketch of him, had made the hours rich with healing. she was tired but steady-nerved as she wrote.... there was a faint tapping at her hall-door. fifth chapter paula is involved in the furious history of selma cross and writes a letter to quentin charter paula thrust the sheets of the letter in her desk drawer and admitted selma cross, an actress whose apartment was across the hall. these two had chatted together many times, sometimes intimately. each had found the other interesting. hints of a past that was almost classic in the fury of its struggle for publicity, had repeatedly come to paula's ears, with other matters she greatly would have preferred not to hear. selma cross was huge to look upon, and at first thought without grace. there was something uncanny in her face and movements, and an extraordinary breadth between her yellow eyes which were wide-lidded, slow-moving and ever-changing. she was but little past thirty, yet the crowded traffic of her years was intricately marked. "i saw the light under your door, and felt like coming in for a few minutes," she said. "i must talk to some one and my maid, dimity, is snoring. you see, i'm celebrating for two reasons." "tell me, so i can help," paula answered. "vhruebert has taken a play for me. you know, i've been begging him to for months. the play was made for me--not that it was written with me in mind, but that i just suit it. selma cross is to be carved in light over a theatre-entrance, twenty seconds from broadway--next april. it will be at the _herriot_--vhruebert's theatre. we run through hartford, springfield, rochester and that string of second cities earlier in the spring." paula rose and gave both her hands. "oh, i'm so glad for you," she said. "i know something about how you have worked for this----" "yes, and the play is _the thing_. i am an ugly slaving drudge, but have all the emotions that the sweet _ingenue_ of the piece should have, and the audience watches me deliver. yes, i've waited long for this, and yet i'm not so glad as i thought i should be. i've been pretty sure of it for the last year or two. i said i was celebrating for two things----" "pray, what is the other?" "i forget that it might not interest you--though it certainly does me," selma cross said with a queer, low laugh.... "he wasn't ugly about it, but he has been exacting--ugh! the fact is, i have earned the privilege at last of sleeping in my own respectable apartment." paula couldn't help shivering a bit. "you mean you have left your----" "oh, he wasn't my husband.... it's such a luxury to pay for your own things--for your own house and clothes and dinners--to earn a dollar for every need and one to put away.... you didn't think that i could get my name above the name of a play--without an angel?" "i didn't know," paula said, "i saw you with him often. it didn't exactly occur to me that he was your husband, because he didn't come here. but do you mean that now when you don't need him any longer--you told him to go away?" "just that--except it isn't at all as it looks. you wouldn't pity old man villiers. living god, that's humorous--after what i have given. don't look for wings on theatrical angels, dear." it was plain that the woman was utterly tired. she regarded paula with a queer expression of embarrassment, and there was a look of harsh self-repression under the now-drooped eyelids. "i don't apologize," she went on hastily. "what i have done, i would do again--only earlier in the game, but you're the sort of woman i don't like to have look at me that--i mean look down upon me. i haven't many friends. i think i must be half wild, but you make the grade that i have--and you pay the price.... you've always looked attractive to me--so easy and finished and out of the ruck." there was a real warming sincerity in the words. paula divined on the instant that she could forever check an intimacy--by a word which would betray the depth of her abhorrence for such a concession to ambition, and for the life which seems to demand it. selma cross was sick for a friend, sick from containing herself. on this night of achievement there was something pitiful in the need of her heart. "new york has turned rather too many pages of life before my eyes, selma, for me to feel far above any one whose struggles i have not endured." the other leaned forward eagerly, "i liked you from the first moment, paula," she said. "you were so rounded--it seemed to me. i'm all streaky, all one-sided. you're bred. i'm cattle.... some time i'll tell you how it all began. i said i would be the greatest living tragedienne--hurled this at a lot of cat-minds down in kentucky fifteen years ago. of course, i shall. it does not mean so much to me as i thought, and it may be a bauble to you, but i wanted it. its far-awayness doesn't torture me as it once did, but one pays a ghastly price. yes, it's a climb, dear. you must have bone and blood and brain--a sort of brain--and you should have a cheer from below; but i didn't. i wonder if there ever was a fight that can match mine? if so, it would not be a good tale for children or grown-ups with delicate nerves. little women always hated me. i remember, one restaurant cashier on eighth avenue told me i was too unsightly to be a waitress. i have done kitchen pot-boilers and scrubbed tenement-stairs. then, because i repeated parts of plays in those horrid halls--they said i was crazy.... why, i have felt a perfect lust for suicide--felt my breast ache for a cool knife and my hand rise gladly. once i played a freak part--that was my greater degradation--debased my soul by making my body look worse than it is. i went down to hell for that--and was forgiven. i have been so homesick, paula, that i could have eaten the dirt in the road of that little kentucky town.... yes, i pressed against the steel until something broke--it was the steel, not me. oh, i could tell you much!..." she paused but a moment. "the thing so dreadful to overcome was that i have a body like a great dane. it would not have hurt a writer, a painter, even a singer, so much, but we of the drama are so dependent upon the shape of our bodies. then, my face is like a dog or a horse or a cat--all these i have been likened to. then i was slow to learn repression. this is a part of culture, i guess--breeding. mine is a lineage of kentucky poor white trash, who knows, but a speck of 'nigger'? i don't care now, only it gave me a temper of seven devils, if it was so. these are some of the things i have contended with. i would go to a manager and he would laugh me along, trying to get rid of me gracefully, thinking that some of his friends were playing a practical joke on him. vhruebert thought that at first. vhruebert calls me _the thing_ now. i could have done better had i been a cripple; there are parts for a cripple. and you watch, paula, next january when i burn up things here, they'll say my success is largely due to my figure and face!" as she looked and listened, paula saw great meanings in the broad big countenance, a sort of ruffian strength to carry this perfecting instrument of emotion. the great body was needed to support such talents, handicapped by the lack of beauty. selma cross fascinated her. paula's heart went out to the great crude creature she had been--in pity for this woman of furious history. the processes by which her brain and flesh had been refined would have slain the body and mind of an ordinary human. it came to paula that here was one of mother nature's most enthralling experiments--the evolution of an effective instrument from the coarsest and vaguest heredity. "they are all brainless but vhruebert. you see, unless one is a beauty, you can't get the support of a big manager's name. i mean without money--there are managers who will lend their name to your stardom, if you take the financial risk. otherwise, you've got to attract them as a possible conquest. all men are like that. if you interest them sexually--they will hear what you have to say----" "isn't that a reckless talk?" paula asked, pale from the repulsiveness of the thought. "you say it without a single qualification----" selma cross stared at her vacantly for a few seconds, then laughed softly. "you don't actually believe--to the contrary?" "let's pass it by. i should have to be changed--to believe that!" "i hope the time will never come when you need something terribly from a strange man--one upon whom you have no hold but--yourself.... ah, but you--the brighter sort would give you what you asked. you----" "please don't go on!" paula whispered. "the other part is so interesting." selma cross seemed to stir restlessly in her loose, softly-scented garments. "i suppose i'm too rough for you. in ninety-nine women out of a hundred, i'd say your protest was a cheap affectation, but it isn't so with you...." "it's your set, smothery pessimism that hurts so, selma," paula declared intensely. "it hurts me most because you seem to have it so locked and immovable inside.... you have been so big and wonderful to win against tremendous obstacles--not against ugliness--i can't grant that. you startled me, when i saw you first. i think women have held you apart because you were uncommon. you show a strange power in your movements and expression. it's not ugliness----" "that's mighty rare of you. i haven't had the pleasure of being defied like that before. but you are not like other people--not like other women." "you will meet many real men and women--wiser and kinder than i am. i think your pessimism cannot endure--when you look for the good in people----" "the kind i have known would not let me. they're just as hateful now--i mean the stuffy dolls of the stage--just as hateful, calling me 'dear' and 'love' and saying, 'how tremendous you are, selma cross!....' listen, it is only a little while ago that the same women used to ask me to walk on broadway with them--to use me as a foil for their baby faces! oh, women are horrible--dusty shavings inside--and men are of the same family." "you poor, dear unfortunate--not to know the really wonderful kind! you are worn to the bone from winning your victory, but when you're rested, you'll be able to see the beautiful--clearly." "one only knows as far as one can see." this sentence was a shock to paula's intelligence. it was spoken without consciousness of the meaning which drove so deep into the other's mind. it suggested a mind dependent altogether upon physical eyes. paula refused to believe that this was the key to the whole matter. "they have been so cruel to me--those female things which bloom a year," selma cross continued. "flesh-flowers! they harried me to martyrdom. i had to hate them, because i was forced to be one with them--i, a big savage, dreaming unutterable things. it's all so close yet, i haven't come to pity them.... maybe you can tell me what good they are--what they mean in the world--the shallow, brainless things who make the stage full! they are in factories, too, everywhere--daughters of the coolies and peasants of europe--only worse over here because their fathers have lost their low fixed place in society, and are all mixed in their dim, brute minds. they have no one to rule them. you will see a family of dirty, frightened, low-minded children--the eldest, say a girl of fifteen. a dog or a cat with a good home is rich beside them. take this eldest girl of a brood--with all the filth of foreign new york in and about her. she is fifteen and ready for the streets. it is the year of her miracle. i've seen it a score of times. you miss her a few months and she appears again at work somewhere--her face decently clean, her eyes clear, a bit of bright ribbon and a gown wrung somewhere from the beds of torture. it is her brief bloom--so horrid to look at when you know what it means. all the fifteen years of squalor, evil, and low-mindedness for this one year--a bloom-girl out of the dirt! and the next, she has fallen back, unwashed, high-voiced, hardening, stiffening,--a babe at her breast, dull hell in her heart. all her living before and to come--for that one bloom year. maybe you can tell me what the big purpose of it all is. earth uses them quite as ruthlessly as any weed or flower--gives them a year to bloom, not for beauty, but that more crude seeds may be scattered. perpetuate! flowers bloom to catch a bug--such girls, to catch a man--perpetuate--oh god, what for? and these things have laughed at me in the chorus, called me 'crazy sal,' because i spoke of things they never dreamed." "yes," paula said quickly, "i've seen something like that. how you will pity them when you are rested! it is hard for us to understand why such numbers are sacrificed like a common kind of plants. nietzsche calls them 'the much-too-many.' but nietzsche does not know quite so much as the energy that wills them to manifest. it is dreadful, it is pitiful. it would seem, if god so loved the world--that he could not endure such pity as would be his at the sight of this suffering and degradation.... but you have no right to despise them--you, of all women. you're blooming up, up, up,--farther and farther out of the common--your blooming has been for years because you have kindled your mind. you must bloom for years still--that's the only meaning of your strength--because you will kindle your soul.... a woman with power like yours--has no right but to love the weak. think what strength you have! there have been moments in the last half-hour that you have roused me to such a pitch of thinking--that i have felt weak and ineffectual beside you. you made me think sometimes of a great submarine--i don't know just why--flashing in the depths." "i don't think you see me right," selma cross said wearily. "many times i have been lost in the dark. i have been wicked--hated the forces that made me. i have so much in me of the peasant--that i abhor. there have been times when i would have been a prostitute for a clean house and decent clothes to cover me, but men did not look at _the thing_--only the old man, and one other!" her eyes brightened, either at the memory or at the thought that she was free from the former.... "don't wince and i'll tell you about that angel. you will be wiser. i don't want you for my friend, if i must keep something back. it was over three years ago, during my first real success. i was rather startling as sarah blixton in heber's _caller herrin_. it was in that that i learned repression. that was my struggle--to repress.... old man villiers saw me, and was wise enough to see my future. 'here's a girl,' i can imagine him saying, 'who is ugly enough to be square to one man, and she's a comer in spite of her face.' he showed where his check-book could be of unspeakable service. it was all very clear to me. i felt i had struggled enough, and went with him.... villiers is that kind of new yorker who feels that he has nothing left to live for, when he ceases to desire women. in his vanity--they are always vain--he wanted to be seen with a woman mentioned on broadway. it was his idea of being looked up to--and of making other men envious. you know his sort have no interest--save where they can ruin. "then for two winter months, villiers and i had a falling out. he went south, and i remained here to work. during this time i had my first real brush with love--a young westerner. it was terrific. he was a brilliant, but turned out a rotten cad. i couldn't stand that in a young man.... you can pity an old man, much the worse for living, when he is brazenly a cad--doesn't know anything else.... when villiers came back from the south i was bought again. i put it all nakedly, paula, but i was older than you are now, when that sort of thing began with me. remember that! still, i mustn't take too much credit, because i didn't attract men.... if you don't abhor me now, you never will, little neighbor, because you have the worst.... sometime i'll tell you a real little love story--oh, i'm praying it's real! he's a hunch-back, paula,--the author of _the thing_.... nobody could possibly want a hunch-back but me--yet i'm not good enough. he's so noble and so fine!... the past is so full of abominations, and i'm not a liar.... i don't think he'd want me--though i could be his nurse. i could _carry him_!... then there is a long-ago promise.... oh, i know i'm not fit for that kind of happiness!..." there was an inspiration in the last. it was strong enough to subvert paula's mind from the road of dreary degradation over which she had been led. from rousing heights of admiration to black pits of shame, she had fallen, but here again was a tonic breath from clean altitudes. the picture in her mind of this great glowing creature tenderly mothering the poor crippled genius of _the thing_--was a thrilling conception. "there is nothing which cannot be forgiven--save soul-death!" paula said ardently. "what you have told me is very hard to adjust, but i hope for your new love. oh, i am glad, selma, that the other is all behind! i don't know much of such things, but it has come to me that it is easier for a man to separate himself from past degradations and be clean--than a woman. this is because a man gives--_but the woman receives her sin_! that which is given cannot continue to defile, but woman is the matrix.... still, you do not lie. such things are so dreadful when matted in lies. we all carry burdensome devils--but few uncover them, as you have done for me. there is something noble in looking back into the past with a shudder, saying,--'i was sick and full of disease in those days,' but when one hugs the corrosion, painting it white all over--there is an inner devouring that is never appeased.... all our sisters are in trouble. i think we live in a world of suffering sororities. you are big and powerful. your greater life is to come.... i am glad for what you have put behind. you will progress farther and farther from it. i am glad you are back across the hall--alone!" * * * * * for many moments after selma cross had gone, paula sat thinking under the lamp. at last she drew the sheets of the letter to charter from the desk-drawer, and read them over. the same rapt smile came to her lips, as when she was writing. it was a letter to her ideal--the big figure of cleanness and strength, she wanted this man to be. even a line or two she added. no one ever knew, but paula.... at length, she began tearing the sheets. finer and finer became the squares under her tense fingers--a little pile of _confetti_ on the desk at last--and brushed into a basket.... then she wrote another letter, blithe, brief, gracious--about his book and her opinion. it was a letter such as he would expect.... sixth chapter paula is called to parlor "f" of the _maid-stone_ where the beyond-devil awaits with outstretched arms paula felt singularly blessed the next morning wondering if ever there existed another woman into whose life-channel poured such strange and torrential tributaries. the current of her mind was broadening and accelerating. she was being prepared for some big expression, and there is true happiness in the thought. reifferscheid, since her pilgrimage to staten island, had become a fixture of delight. selma cross had borne her down on mighty pinions to the lower revelations of the city, but had winged her back again on a breeze of pure romance. madame nestor had parted the curtains, which shut from the world's eye, hell unqualified, yet her own life was a miracle of penitence. not the least of her inspirations was this mild, brave woman of the solitudes. then, there was the commanding mystery of bellingham, emerging in her mind now from the chicaneries of the past ten days; rising, indeed, to his own valuation--that of a new voice. finally, above and before all, was the stirring figure of her ideal--her splendid secret source of optimism--charter, less a man than a soul in her new dreams--a name to which she affixed, "the man-who-must-be-somewhere." just once, the thought came to paula that bellingham had designed a meeting such as took place in the park to soften her aversion and clear from her mind any idea of his abnormality. she could not hold this suspicion long. attributing evil strategies to another was not easy for paula. the simpler way now was to give him every benefit, even to regard the recent dreadful adventures with an intangible devil--as an outburst of her neglected feminine prerogatives, coincident with the stress of her rather lonely intellectual life. as for madame nestor, might she not have reached a more acute stage of a similar derangement? paula was not unacquainted with the great potentialities of fine physical health, nor did she miss the fact that mother nature seldom permits a woman of normal development to reach the fourth cycle of her years, without reckoning with the ancient reason of her being. she now regarded early events connected with bellingham as one might look back upon the beginning of a run of fever.... could he be one of the new voices? paula loved to think that woman was to be the chief resource of the lifting age. everywhere among men she saw the furious hunger for spiritual refreshment. words, which she heard by mere chance from passers-by, appalled her. it was so tragically clear to her how the life led by city men starves their better natures--that there were times when she could hardly realize they did not see it. she wanted someone to make the whole world understand--that just as there are hidden spaces between the atoms of steel which made radioactivity possible, so in the human body there is a permeating space, in which the soul of man is built day by day from every thought and act; and when the worn-out physical envelope falls away--there it stands, a record to endure.... she wanted to believe that it was the office of woman to help man make this record beautiful. just as the old anglo-saxon for "lady" means "giver of bread," so she loved to think that the spiritual loaf was in the keeping of woman also. paula could not meditate without ecstasy upon the thought that a great spiritual tide was rising, soon to overflow every race and nation. the lifting of man from greedy senses to the pure happiness of brotherhood, was her most intimate and lovely hope. back of everything, this lived and lit her mind. there were transcendent moments--she hardly dared to describe or interpret them--when cosmic consciousness swept into her brain. swift was the visitation, nor did it leave any memorable impression, but she divined that such lofty moments, different only in degree, were responsible for the great utterances in books that are deathless. the shield was torn from her soul, leaving it naked to every world-anguish. the woman, paula linster, became an accumulation of all suffering--desert thirsts, untold loves, birth and death parturitions, blind cruelties of battle, the carnal lust of famine (that soft-treading spectre), welted flesh under the screaming lash, moaning from the world's night everywhere--until the impassioned spirit within rushed forth to the very horizon's rim to shelter an agonizing people from an angry god. such is the genius of race-motherhood--the ineffable spirit of mediation between father and child. one must regard with awe the reaction which follows such an outpouring. these are the wilderness-wrestlings of the great-souled--the gethsemanes. out of the dream, would appear the actual spectacle of the city--human beings preying one upon the other, the wolf still frothing in man's breast--and then would crush down upon her with shattering pain the realization of her own hopeless ineffectuality. to a mind thus stricken and desolated often, premonitions of madness come at last--madness, the black brother of genius. there is safety alone in a body strong and undefiled to receive again the expanded spirit. from how many a lustrous youth--tarrying too long by the fetid margins of sense--has the glory winged away, never to return to a creature fallen into hairy despoliation. * * * * * paula had returned from down-town about noon. reifferscheid, who had a weakness for herman melville, and annually endeavored to spur the american people into a more adequate appreciation of the old sea-lion, had ordered her to rest her eyes for a few days in _moby dick_. with the fat, old fine-print novel under her arm, paula let herself into her own apartment and instantly encountered the occultist's power. she sank to the floor and covered her face in the pillows of the couch. in the past twenty-four hours she had come to believe that the enemy had been put away forever, yet here in her own room she was stricken, and so swiftly.... though she did not realize it at once, many of the thoughts which gradually surged into her mind were not her own. she came to see bellingham as other women saw him--as a great and wise doctor. her own conception battled against this, but vainly, vaguely. it was as if he held the balance of power in her consciousness. without attempting to link them together, the processes of her mind quickly will be set into words. her first thought, before the tightening of bellingham's control in her brain, was to rush into his presence and fiercely arraign him for the treachery he had committed. after blaming madame nestor and deforming her own faculties to clear him from evil, the devilishness of the present visitation overwhelmed. and how infinitely more black and formidable now was his magic--after the utterances in the park! this was her last real stand.... a cry of hopelessness escaped her lips, for the numbness was already about her eyes, and creeping back like a pestilence along the open highways of her mind. "come to me. the way is open. i am alone. i am near.... come to me, paula linster, of plentiful treasures.... do you not see the open way--how near i am? oh, come--now--come to me now!" again and again the little sentences fell upon her mind, until its surface stirred against reiteration, as one, thoroughly understanding, resents repeated explanations.... it was right now for her to go. she had been rebellious and headstrong to conjure such evils about the name of a famous physician. the world called him famous. only she and madame nestor had stood apart, clutching fast to their ideas of his deviltry. he had taken the trouble to call her to him--to prove that he was good. the degradation which she had felt at the first moment of his summons--was all from her own perversity.... clearly she saw the street below, cathedral way; a turn north, then across the plaza to the brown ornate entrance of _the maidstone_.... there was no formality about the going. her hat and coat had not been removed.... she was in the hall; the elevator halted at her floor while the man pushed a letter and some papers under the door of the selma cross apartment.... in the street, she turned across the plaza from cathedral way to _the maidstone_. the real paula linster marshalled a hundred terrible protests, but her voice was muffled, her strength ineffectual as josephine's beating with white hands against the emperor's iron door. real volition was locked in the pitiless will of the physician, to whom she hastened as one hoping to be saved. she inquired huskily of the man at the hotel-desk. "the doctor is waiting on the parlor-floor--in f," was the answer. paula stepped from the elevator, and was directed to the last door on the left.... the sense of her need, of her illness, hurried her forward through the long hall. sometimes she seemed burdened with the body of a woman, very tired and helpless, but quite obedient.... the figure "f" on a silver shield filled her eyes. the door was ajar. her entrance was not unlike that of a lioness goaded with irons through a barred passage into an arena. she did not open the door wider, but slipped through sideways, gathering her dress closely about her.... bellingham was there. his face was white, rigid from long concentration; yet he smiled and his arms were opened to her.... the point here was that he so marvelously understood. his attitude to her seemed that of a physician of the soul. she could not feel the fighting of the real woman.... dazed and broken for the moment, she encountered the soothing magnetism of his hands. "how long i have waited!" he quietly exclaimed. "hours, and it was bitter waiting--but you are a wreath for my waiting--how grateful you are to my weariness!... paula linster, paula linster--what deserts of burning sunshine i have crossed to find you--what dark jungles i have searched for such fragrance!" his arms were light upon her, his voice low and lulling. he dared not yet touch his lips to her hair--though they were dry and twisted with his awful thirst. craft and patience altogether feline was in the art with which he wound and wove about her mind thoughts of his own, designed to ignite the spark of responsive desire.... and how softly he fanned--(an incautious blast would have left him in darkness altogether)--until it caught.... well, indeed, he knew the cunning of the yet unbroken seals; and better still did he know the outraged forces hovering all about her, ready to defeat him for the slightest error--and leave him to burn in his own fires. "this is peace," he whispered with indescribable repression. "how soft a resting-place--and yet how strong!... out of the past i have come for you. do you remember the rock in the desert on which you sat and waited long ago? your eyes were weary when i came--weary from the blazing light of noon and the endless waning of that long day. on a great rock in the desert you sat--until i came, _until i came_. then you laughed because i shut the feverish sun-glow from your strained eyes.... remember, i came in the skin of a lion and shut the sunset from your aching eyes--my shoulders darkening the west--and we were alone--and the night came on...." clearly was transferred to hers, the picture in his own brain. one of the ancient and mystic films of memory seemed brought after ages to the light--the reddening sands, the city far behind, from which she had fled to meet her hero, deep in the desert--the glow of sunset on his shoulders and in his hair, tawny as the lion's skin he wore.... the heart quickened within her; the savage ardor of that long-ago woman grew hot in her breast. strong as a lion he was, this youth of the sun, and fleet the night fell to cover them. she ate the dried grapes he gave her, drank deep from his skin of wine, and laughed with him in the swift descending night.... she felt his arms now, her face was upraised, her eyelids tensely shut. downward the blood rushed, leaving her lips icy cold. she felt the muscles of his arms in her tightening fingers, and her breast rose against him. this was no twentieth century magician who thralled her now, but a glorious hero out of the desert sunset;--and the woman within her was as one consuming with ecstasy from a lover's last visit.... and now bellingham changed the color and surface of his advances. it was his thought to make such a marvellous sally, that when he retired and the mistress once again commanded her own citadel, she would perceive the field of his activities strewn, not with corpses, but with garlands, and in their fragrance she must yearn for the giant to come yet again. the thing he now endeavored to do was beyond an ordinary human conception for devilishness; and yet, that it was not a momentary impulse, but a well considered plan, was proven by the trend of his talk of the day before.... the flaw in his structure was his apparent forgetting that the woman in his arms breathing so ardently, in her own mind was clinging to a youth out of the sunset--a youth in the skin of a lion. "wisdom has been given to my eyes," bellingham resumed with surpassing gentleness. "for years a conception of wonderful womanhood has lived and brightened in my mind, bringing with it a promise that in due time, such a woman would be shown to me. the woman, the promise and the miracle of its later meaning, i perceived at last were not for my happiness, but for the world's awful need. you are the fruits of my wonderful vision--you--paula linster. you are the quest of my long and weary searching!" his utterance of her name strangely disturbed her night-rapture of the desert. it was as if she heard afar-off--the calling of her people. "on the night you entered the hall," he said, and his face bent closer, "i felt the sense of victory, before these physical eyes found you. my thoughts roved over a world, brightened by a new hope, fairer for your presence. and then, i saw your fine white brow, the ignited magic of your hair and eyes, your frail exquisite shoulders.... it seemed as though the lights perished from the place--when you left." the word "magic" was a sudden spark around which the thoughts of the woman now groped.... she had lost her desert lover, passion was drained from her, and there was a weight of great trouble pressing down ... "magic"--she struggled for its meaning.... she was sitting upon a rock again, but not in the desert--rather in a place of cooled sunlight, where there were turf roads and grand, old trees--a huge figure approaching with a powerful swinging stride--yesterday, bellingham, the park--the talk!... paula lifted her shoulders, felt the binding arms around them and heard the words uttered now in the meridian of human passion: "listen, paula linster, you have been chosen for the most exalted task ever offered to living woman. the great soul is not yet in the world, and he must come soon!... it is you who have inspired this--you, of trained will; a mind of stirring evolution, every thought so essentially feminine; you of virgin body and a soul lit with stars! you are brave. the burden is easy to one of your courage, and i should keep you free from the world--free from the burns and the whips of this thinking animal, the world. all that i have won from the world, her mysteries, her enchantments, i shall give you, all that is big and brave and wise in song and philosophy and nature, i shall bring to your feet, as a hunter with trophies to his beloved--all that a man, wise and tender, can think and express to quicken the splendor of fertility----" paula was now fully conscious--her self restored to her. the yesterday and the to-day rose before her mind in startling parallel. her primary dread was that she might lose control again before bellingham was put away. the super-devilishness of his plan--hiding a blasphemy in the white robe of a spiritual consecration--had changed him in her sight to a ravening beast. the thing which he believed would cause her eagerly to bestow upon him the riches of her threefold life had lifted her farther out of his power that moment, than even she realized. bellingham had over-reached. she was filled with inner nausea.... the idea of escape, the thought of crippling the magician's power over her forever--in the stress of this, she grew cold.... she was nearest the door. it stood ajar, as when she had entered. "meditation--in the place i have prepared," he was whispering, "meditation and the poetic life, rarest of fruits, purest of white garments--cleansed with sunlight and starlight, you and i, paula linster,--the sources of creation which have been revealed to me--for you! wonderful woman--all the vitalities of heaven shall play upon you! we shall bring the new god into the world----" she pushed back from his arms and faced him--white-lipped and loathing. "you father a son of mine," she said, in the doorway. "you--are dead--the man's soul is dead within you--you whited sepulchre!" his face altered like a white wall which an earthquake disorders at the base. white rock turned to blown paper; the man-mask rubbed out; havoc featured upon an erect thing, with arms pitifully outstretched. * * * * * paula, alone in the long hall, ran to the marble stairs, hurried down and into the street--swiftly to her house. there, every thread of clothing she had worn was gathered into a pile for burning. then she bathed and her strength returned. seventh chapter paula begins to see more clearly through madame nestor's revelations, and witnesses a broadway accident in mid-afternoon paula obeyed an impulse to call upon madame nestor. she wanted to talk with the only human being in new york who could quite understand. madame's room was west of eighth avenue in forty-fourth street--the servant's quarter in a squalid suite, four flights up. the single window opened upon a dim shaft, heavy with emanations from many kitchens. there was not even a closet. madame's moulted plumage was hung upon the back of the outer and only door. books were everywhere, on the floor, in boxes, on the cot. "my dear paula, you felt the need of me?... i should have come to you. this does very well for me, but i dislike my poverty to be known, dear. it is not that i am the least proud, but the psychic effects of pity are depressing." "please, madame nestor, don't think of me pitying anybody! i did feel the need of you. the day has been horrible. but first, i want to tell you that i am very sorry for what i said--when you were in my rooms the other day----" the elder woman leaned forward and kissed paula's dress at the shoulder. there was something sweet and mild and devotional in the action, something suggestive of a wise old working-bee pausing an instant to caress its queen. "you have been impelled to go to him, paula?" "yes. it came over me quite irresistibly. i could not have been altogether myself.... i think i shall leave the city!" madame nestor asked several questions, bringing out all she cared to know of paula's experience that day. her eyes became very bright as she said: "i dare not advise you _not_ to go away. still, don't you see it--how wonderful was your victory to-day?" "i can't always defeat him!" paula cried. "his power comes over me and i move toward him--just as reptiles must follow a blind impulse started from without. each time i follow, i must be weaker." "but, paula, each time something happens to restore you to yourself, thwarting his purpose, his projections are weakened." "but if i should go far away?" "he could only put it in your mind to return." when paula remembered the accidents which had preserved her, even when in the same city with the destroyer, she could not doubt the salvation in putting a big stretch of the planet's curve between her and this dynamo.... certain unfinished thinking could only be cleared through a friend like madame nestor. "this physical consciousness which he has made me feel seems indescribably more sinister in erect human beings than the mating instinct in animals and birds," paula declared with hesitation. "can it be that women in general encounter influences--of this kind?" "it is man's fault that women have broken all seasons," the madame said bitterly. "man has kept woman submerged since the beginning of time. always eager to serve; and blest--or cursed--with the changeless passion to be _all_ to one man--her most enduring hope to hold the exclusive love of one man--woman has adapted herself eagerly to become the monogamic answer to man's polygamic nature. bellingham is but the embodiment of a desire which exists in greater or less degree in every man. this desire of man has disordered women. we have lost the true meaning of ourselves--i mean, as a race of women--and have become merely physical mates." "i can hardly believe it--that even women of the streets should ever be degraded by such a horrible force," paula said desperately. "and the sweet calm faces of some of the women we know----" "behind the mask of innocence, often, is a woman's terrible secret, paula. for most women obey. even the growth of the maid is ruthlessly forced by hot breaths of passion, until motherhood--so often a domestic tragedy--leaves the imprint of shame in her arms. the man of unlit soul has made this low play of passion his art. woman as a race has fallen, because it is her way to please and obey. man has taught us to believe that when he comes to our arms, we are at our highest.... and, listen, paula, certain men of to-day, a step higher in evolution, blame woman because she has not suddenly _unlearned_ her training of the ages--lessons man has graven in the very bed-rock of her nature. in the novelty of their new-found austerity, they exclaim: 'avoid woman. she is passion rhythmic. it is she who draws us down from our lofty regions of endeavor.'" terrific energy of rebellion stirred paula's mind. "but the promise is that woman's time shall come!" she exclaimed. "the child, jesus, said to his mother, 'thy time is not yet come,' but it is promised that the heel of woman shall crush the head of the serpent. we have always borne the sin, the agony, the degradation, but our time must be close at hand! i think this is the age--and this the country--of the rising woman!" madame nestor arose from the cot and stood before paula, her eyes shining with emotion. "bless you, my beloved girl, my whole heart leaps to sanction that! i have symbolized the whole struggle of our race in your personal struggle--don't you see this, paula?... bellingham is the concentrate of devourers--and you the evolved woman who overcomes him! my hope for the race lies in you, and your victory to-day has filled my cup with happiness!... you say you do not dare to pray. i tell you, child,--the god of women gave you strength to-day. he is close to harken unto your need--for you are among the first of the elect to bring in the glory of the new day!... the animal in man has depleted the splendid energies of the spirit. passions of the kind you defeated to-day are overpowering women everywhere at this hour--lesser passions of lesser bellinghams. man's course to god has been a crawl through millenniums, instead of a flight through decades, because woman has bowed--obeyed. god is patient, but woman is aroused!... above the din of wars, the world has heard the wailing of the women; out of the ghostly silence of famine and from beneath the debris of fallen empires--always the world has heard her cry for pity--her cry for pity now _become a voice of power_! all her tortured centuries have been for this--and the signs are upon us! woman's demand for knowledge, her clamor for suffrage, her protest against eternally paying for man's lust with unblessed babes--all these are signs! but you, paula linster,--and what i know of this day--is the most thrilling sign of all to me!... ah, woman is evolving; she is aroused! how shall she repay man for brutalizing her so long?" "by bringing him back to god!" paula answered. they wept together and whispered, while the night fell about and covered the squalid room. * * * * * it was one of her emancipated nights. paula's spirit poured out over the city, for her mind was lit with thoughts of the ultimate redemption of her race. bellingham could not have found her in his world that hour.... emerging from broadway to forty-fourth street, at eight in the evening, she passed under the hot brilliance of a famous hotel-entrance. as it never would have occurred to her to do in a less exalted moment, paula glanced at a little knot of men standing under the lights. the eyes of one were roving like an unclean hand over her figure. suddenly encountering her look, a bold, eager, challenge stretched itself upon his face. in the momentary panic, her glance darted to the others instinctively for protection--and found three smiling corpses.... here were little bellinghams; here, the sexual drunkenness which has made man's course "a crawl through millenniums" to god, instead of a flight through decades. what a pitiless revelation!... she clung to her big ideal in the west. it came to her for a second like a last and single hope--that charter was not like that.... "god is patient and woman is aroused!" she whispered. and farther up, a little way into forty-seventh, paula found a salvation army circle under the torch. a man with a pallid, shrunken face turned imploring eyes from one to another of the company, exclaiming: "i tell you, man's first work here below is to save his soul! i pray you--men and women, here to-night--to save your souls!" paula tossed her purse upon the big drum, as she passed swiftly. luckily there was carfare in her glove, for she had not thought of that. never before had she felt in such fullness her relation to the race.... a hansom-cab veered about the edge of the salvation circle, swift enough to attract her eye. the horse had started before the driver was in the seat. the latter was fat and apoplectic. it was all he could do to regain his place, so that the reins still dangled. the possibility of a cab-horse becoming excited held only humor for the crowd, which parted to let the vehicle by. the horse, feeling his head, started to run just as the driver seized one of the lines and jerked his beast into the curb. there was an inhuman scream. a strange, boneless effigy of a man with twisted, waving arms--went down before the plunging horse, so suddenly swerved.... a hush seemed to have fallen upon the noisy broadway corner. paula was not blind in the brief interval which followed, but the world seemed gray and still, like a spectral dawn, or the unearthly setting of a dream. "the shaft bored into him, and the horse struck him after he fell," a voice explained. they lifted him. there was particular dreadfulness in the quantity of fluid evenly sheeted on the pavement as from a pail carefully overturned. startling effrontery attached to the thought of man's heaven-aspiring current swimming like this upon a degraded city road. the horse, now held by the bit, snorted affrightedly at the odor. they had carried the unfortunate to the sidewalk under the lights of a tobacco-shop window. the upper part of his head and face was indefinite like a crushed tin of dark paint. but mouth and nose and chin of the upturned face left an imperishable imprint upon her mind. it was bellingham.... paula fled, her lips opening in a sick fashion. it seemed hours before she could reach the sanctuary of her room, where she sobbed in the dark. eighth chapter paula makes several discoveries in the charter heart-country, and is delighted by his letters to the skylark the morning paper stated that dr. bellingham had suffered a fracture of the skull and internal injury, but might live. a note to paula from madame nestor late the next day contained the following paragraph: "i called at the hospital to inquire. a doctor told me that the case is likely to become a classic one. never in his experience, he stated, had he witnessed a man put up such a fight for life. it will be long, however, before he is abroad again. he must have been following you quite madly, because there never was a man more careful in the midst of city-dangers than bellingham. why, a scratched finger completely upset him--in the earlier days. inscrutable, but thrilling--isn't it, my dear paula?" * * * * * "did you follow _moby dick's_ whale tracks around the wet wastes of the world?" reifferscheid asked several mornings later, as paula entered. her face was flushed. a further letter from quentin charter had just been tucked into her bag. "yes, and mr. melville over trans-continental digressions," she answered. "he surely is neptune's own _confrère_." "did you get the leviathan alongside and study the bewildering chaos of a ninety-foot nervous system?" reifferscheid went on with delight. "exactly, and colored miles of sea-water with the emptyings of his vast heart. then, there was an extended process of fatty degeneration, which i believe they called--blubber-boiling." they laughed together over the old whale-epic. "they remember melville up in boston and nantucket," he added, "but he's about as much alive as a honey-bee's pulse elsewhere. the trouble is, you can't rectify this outrage by law. it isn't uxoricide or sheep-stealing--not to know melville--but it's the deadly sin of ingratitude. this is a raw age, we adorn--not to rock in the boat of that man's soul. why, he's worthy to stand with the angels on the point of the present." the big editor always warmed her when he enthused. here, in the midst of holiday books pouring in by scores, he had time to make a big personal and public protest against a fifty-year-old novel being forgotten. "but isn't melville acknowledged to be the headwaters of inspiration for all later sea-books?" paula asked. "yes, to the men who do them, he's the big laughing figure behind their work, but the public doesn't seem to know.... of course, herman has faults--japan currents of faults--but they only warm him to a white man's heart. do you know, i like to think of him in a wide, windy room, tearing off his story long-hand, upon yard square sheets, grinning like an ogre at the soul-play, the pages of copy settling ankle-deep upon the floor. there's no taint of over-breeding in the unborn thing, no curse of compression, no aping addison--nothing but melville, just blown in with the gale, reeking with a big story which must be shed, before he blows out again, with straining cordage booming in his ears. he harnesses art. he man-handles power, makes it grovel and play circus. 'here it is,' he seems to say at the end. 'take it or leave it. i'm rotting here ashore.'" "you ought to dictate reviews like that, mr. reifferscheid," paula could not help saying, though she knew he would be disconcerted. he colored, turned back to his work, directing her to take her choice from the shelf of fresh books.... on the car going back, paula opened charter's letter. her fingers trembled, because she had been in a happy and daring mood five or six days before when she wrote the letter to which this was the reply. ... do you know, i really like to write to you? i feel untrammelled--turned loose in the meadows. it seems when i start an idea--that you've grasped it as soon as it is clear to me. piled sentences after that are unnecessary. it's a real joy to write this way, as spirits commune. it wouldn't do at all for the blessed multitude. you have to be a mineral and a vegetable and an animal, all in a paragraph, to get the whole market. but how generous the dear old multitude is--(if the writer has suffered enough)--with its bed and board and lamplight.... i have been scored and salted so many times that i heal like an earth-worm. tell me, can scar-tissue ever be so fine? fineness--that's the one excellent feature of being human! there's no other reason for being--no other meaning or reason for atomic affinity or star-hung space. true, the great conceiver of refining thought seems pleased to take all eternity to play in.... you've made me think of you out of all proportion. i don't want to help it. i'm very glad we hailed each other across the distance. there's something so entirely blithe and wise and finished about the personality i've builded from three little letters and a critique--that i refresh myself very frequently from them.... i think we must be old playmates. perhaps we plotted ghost-stories and pegged oranges at each other in atlantean orchards millenniums ago. i begin to feel as if i deserve to have my playmate back.... then, again, it is as though these little letters brought to my garret window the skylark i have heard far and faintly so long in the higher moments of dream. just a note here and there used to come to me from far-shining archipelagoes of cloud-land. i listen now and clearly understand what you have sung so long in the heights.... you are winged--that's the word! wing often to my window--won't you? life is peppering me with good things this year, i could not be more grateful. letters like these made paula think of that memorable first afternoon with grimm; and like it, too, the joy was so intense as to hold the suggestion that there must be something evil in it all. she laughed at this. what law, human or divine, was disordered by two human grown-ups with clean minds communing together intimately in letters? quentin charter might have been less imperious, or less precipitous, in writing such pleasing matters about herself, but had he not earned the boon of saying what he felt? still, paula would not have been so entirely feminine, had she not repressed somewhat. she even may have known that artful repression from without is stimulus to any man. occasionally, charter forgot his sense of humor, but the woman five years younger, never. the inevitable thought that in the ordinary sequence of events, they should meet face to face, harrowed somewhat with the thought that she must keep his ideals down--or both were lost. what could a mind like his _not_ build about months of communion (eyes and ears strained toward flashing skies) with a skylark ideal?... she reminded charter that skylarks are little, brown, tame-plumaged creatures that only sing when they soar. she could not forbear to note that he was a bit sky-larky, too, in his letters, and observed that she had found it wise, mainly to keep one's wings tightly folded in new york. she signed her next letter, nevertheless, with a small pen-picture of the name he had given her--full-throated and ascending. also she put on her house address. some of the paragraphs from letters which came in the following weeks, she remembered without referring to the treasured file: ... bless the wings! may they never tire for long--since i cannot be there when they are folded.... often, explain it if you can, i think of you as some one i have seen in japan, especially in tokyo--hurrying through the dusk in the minimasakurna-cho, wandering through the tombs of the forty-seven ronins. or sipping tea in the kameido among the wistaria blooms. some time--who knows? i have made quite a delightful romance about it.... who is so wise as positively to say, that we are not marvellously related from the youth of the world? who dares declare we have not climbed cliffs of cathay to stare across the sky-blue water, nor whispered together in orient casements under constellations that swing more perilously near than these?... we may be a pair of foolish dreamers, but asia must have a cup of tea for us--asia, because she is so far and so still. we shall _remember_ then.... and so you live alone? how strange, i have always thought of you so? from the number, i think you must overlook the park--don't you?... it may strike you humorously, but i feel like ordering you not to take too many meals alone. one is apt to be neglectful, and women lose their appetites easier than men. i used to be graceless toward the gift of health. perhaps i enjoy perfectly prepared food altogether too well for one of inner aspirations. the bit of a soul in which you see such glorious possibilities, packs rather an imperious animal this trip, i fear. however, i don't let the animal carry _me_--any more. i see a wonderful sensitiveness in all that you write--that's why i suggest especially that you should never forget fine food and plentiful exercise. psychic activity in america is attained so often at the price of physical deterioration. this is an empty failure, uncentering, deluding. remember, i say in america.... pray, don't think i fail to worship sensitiveness--those high, strange emotions, the sense of oneness with all things that live, the vergings of the mind toward the intangible, the light, refreshing sleep of asceticism, subtle expandings of solitude and the mystical launchings,--anything that gives spread of wing rather than amplitude of girth--but i have seen these very pursuits carry one entirely out of rhythm with the world. the multitudes cannot follow us when there are stars in our eyes--they cannot see. a few years ago i had a strange period of deep-delving into ancient wisdom. a lot of big, simple treasures unfolded, but i discovered great dogmas as well--the steel shirts, iron shields, mailed fists and other junk which lesser men seem predestined to hammer about the gentle spirit of truth. i vegetarianed, lived inside, practiced meditate, and became a sensitive, as it seems now, in rather a paltry, arrogant sense. the point is i lost the little appeal i had to people through writing. it came to me at length with grim finality that if a man means to whip the world into line at all, he must keep a certain brute strength. he must challenge the world at its own games _and win_, before he can show the world that there are finer games to play. you can't stand above the mists and call the crowd to you, but many will _follow_ you up through them.... i truly hope, if i am wrong in this, that you will see it instantly, and not permit the edge and temper of your fineness to be coarsened through me. you are so animate, so delicately strong, and seem so spiritually unhurt, that it occurs to me now that there may be finer laws for you, than are vouchsafed to me. i interpreted my orders--to win according to certain unalterable rules of the world. balzac did that. i think some skylark sang to him at the last, when he did his seraphita.... i cannot help but tell you again of my gratitude. i am no impressionable boy. i know what the woman must be who writes to me.... isn't this an excellent world when the finer moments come; when we can think with gentleness of past failures of the flesh and spirit, and with joy upon the achievements of others; when we feel that we have preserved a certain relish for the rich of all thought, and a pleasure in innocence; when out of our errors and calamities we have won a philosophy which makes serene our present voyaging and gives us keen eyes to discern the coast-lights of the future?... with lifted brow--i harken for your singing. paula knew that quentin charter was crying out for his mate of fire. she remembered that she had strangely felt his strength before there were any letters, but she could not deny that it since had become a greater and more intimate thing--her tower, white and heroic, cutting clean through the films of distance, and suggesting a vast, invisible city at its base. that she was the bright answer in the east for such a tower was incredible. she could send a song over on the wings of the morning--make it shine like ivory into the eyes of the new day, but she dared not think of herself as a corresponding fixture. a man like charter could form a higher woman out of dreams and letter-pages than the world could mold for him from her finest clays. always she said this--and forgot that the man was clay. a pair of dreamers, truly, and yet there was a difference in their ideals. if charter's vision of her lifted higher, it was also flexible to contain a human woman. as for hers--paula had builded a tower. true, there were moments of flying fog in which she did not see it, but clean winds quickly brushed away the obscurations, and not a remnant clung. when seen at all, her tower was pure white and undiminished. of necessity there were reactions. his familiarity with the petty intensities of the average man often startled her. he seemed capable of dropping into the parlance of any company, not as one who had listened and memorized, but as an old familiar who had served time in all societies. in the new aspect of personal letters, his book revealed a comprehension of women--that dismayed. of course, his printed work was filled with such stuff as her letters were made of, but between a book and a letter, there is the same difference of appeal as the lines read by an actor, however gifted, are cold compared to a friend's voice. though she wondered at charter giving his time to write such letters to her, this became very clear, if his inclination were anything like her own to answer them. all the thinking of her days formed itself into compressed messages for him; and all the best of her sprang to her pen under his address. the effort then became to repress, to keep her pages within bounds, and the ultimate effort was to wait several days before writing again. his every sentence suggested pleasure in writing; and as a matter of fact, he repressed very little.... was it through letters like hers in his leisure months that charter amassed his tremendous array of poignant details; was it through such, that he reared his imposing ranges of feminine understanding? this was a question requiring a worldlier woman than paula long to hold in mind. in the man's writing, regarded from her critical training, there was no betrayal of the literary clerk dependent upon data. "i am no impressionable boy. i know what the woman must be who writes to me." there was something of seership in his thus irrevocably affixing his ideal to the human woman who held the pen.... his photograph was frequently enough in the press--a big browed, plain-faced young man with a jaw less aggressive than she would have imagined, and a mouth rather finely arched for a reformer who was to whip the world into line. and then there was a discovery. in a magazine dated a decade before, she ran upon his picture among the advertising pages. verses of his were announced to appear during the year to come. he could not have been over twenty for this picture, and to her it was completely charming--a boy out of the past calling blithely; a poetic face, too, reminding her of prints she had seen of an early drawing of keats's head now in london--eager, sensitive, all untried!... it was not without resistance that she acknowledged herself _closer to the boy_--that something of the man was beyond her. there was a mystery left upon the face by the intervening years, "while the tireless soul etched on...." should she ever know? or must there always be this dim, hurting thing? was it all the etching of the _soul_--that this later print revealed?... these were but bits of shadow--ungrippable things which made her wings falter for a moment and long for something sure to rest upon, but reifferscheid's first talk about charter, the latter's book, and the letters--out of these were reconstructed her tower of shining purity. there were times when paula's heart, gathering all its tributary sympathies, poured out to the big figure in the west in a deep and rushing torrent. her entire life was illuminated by these moments of ardor. here was a giving, in which the thought of actual possession had little or no part. her finest elements were merged into one-pointed expression. it is not strange that she was dismayed by the triumphant force of the woman within her, nor that she recalled one of the first of madame nestor's utterances, "nonsense, paula, the everlasting feminine is alive in every movement of you." yet this outpouring was lofty, and noon-sky clear. an emotion like this meant brightness to every life that contacted it.... but ruthlessly she covered, hid away even from her own thoughts, illuminations such as these. here was a point of tragic significance. out of the past has come this great fear to strong women--the fear to let themselves love. this is one of the sorriest evolutions of the self-protecting instinct. so long have women met the tragic fact of fickleness and evasion in the men of their majestic concentrations--that fear puts its weight against the doors that love would open wide. almost unconsciously the personal tension of the correspondence increased. not infrequently after her letters were gone, paula became afraid that this new, full-powered self of hers had crept into her written pages with betraying effulgence, rising high above the light laughter of the lines. how she cried out for open honesty in the world and rebelled against the garments of falsity which society insists must cover the high as well as the low. charter seemed to say what was in his heart; at least, he dared to write as the woman could not, as she dared not even to think, lest he prove--against the exclaiming negatives of her soul--a literary craftsman of such furious zeal that he could tear the heart out of a woman he had not seen, pin the quivering thing under his lens, to describe, with his own responsive sensations. so the weeks were truly emotional. swiftly, beyond any realization of her own, paula linster became full-length a woman. reifferscheid found it harder and harder to talk even bossily to her, but cleared his voice when she entered, vented a few booky generalities, and cleared his voice when she went away. keen winter fell upon his system of emptied lakes; gusty winter harped the sound of a lonely ship in polar seas among the naked branches of the big elms above his cottage; indeed, gray winter would have roughed it--in the big chap's breast, had he not buckled his heart against it.... for years, tim reifferscheid had felt himself aloof from all such sentiment. weakening, he had scrutinized his new assistant keenly for the frailties with which her sex was identified in his mind. in all their talks together, she had verified not one, so that he was forced to destroy the whole worthless edition. she was a discovery, thrillingly so, since he had long believed such a woman impossible. now he felt crude beside her, remembered everything that he had done amiss (volumes of material supposed to be out of print). frankly, he was irritated with any one in the office who presumed to feel himself an equal with miss linster.... but all this was reifferscheid's, and no other--as far from any expression of his, as thoughtless kisses or thundering heroics. ninth chapter paula is drawn deeper into the selma cross past and is bravely wooed through further messages from the west selma cross frequently filled the little place of books across the hall with her tremendous vibrations before the trial trip of her new play on the road. paula liked to have her come in, delighted in the great creature's rapture over the hunch-back, stephen cabot, author of _the thing_. there was an indescribably brighter luster in the waxing and waning of romantic tides, than the eyes of paula had ever before discovered, so that the confidences of the other were of moment. selma was terrified by some promise she had made years before in kentucky. it was gradually driven deep into the listener's understanding that no matter how harsh and dreadful the intervening years had been, here was a woman to whom a promise meant a promise. paula was moved almost to tears by the other's description of stephen cabot, and the first time she saw him. "i wonder if the long white face with the pain-lit eyes could ever mean to any one else what it does to me?" selma whispered raptly when they talked together one sunday night. "why, to see him sitting there before me at rehearsal--the finest, lowest head in all the chairs--steadies, exalts me! i hold fast to repression.... it it was vhruebert who brought me to him, and the first words stephen said were: 'your manager is a wizard, miss cross, to get you for this. why, you are the woman i wrote about in _the thing_!'" "tell me more," paula had whispered. "we met in vhruebert's office and forgot the manager entirely. i guess two hours passed, as we talked, and went over the play together that first time. vhruebert sent in his office-boy finally to remind us that he was still in the building. how we three laughed about it!... then as we started out for luncheon together, stephen and i, vhruebert took his place at the door before us, and delivered himself of something like this: "'you two listen to the father of what you are to be,'" selma cross went on, roughening her voice and tightening her nasal passages, to imitate the old hebrew star-maker. "'listen to the soulless vhruebert, who brudalizes the great amerigan stage. you two are art. very well, listen to commerce. it took me twenty-five years to learn that there must be humor in a blay. this _t'ing_ would not lift the lip of a ganary-bird. it took me twenty-five years to learn there must be joy at the end of a blay--and wedding-bells. this _t'ing_ ends just about--over the hills to the mad-house. twenty-five years proved to me what i know the first day--that women of the stage must be beautiful. miss gross is not. i say no more. here i have neither dramatist nor star. i could give the blay by gabot to ellen terry--or to miss gross, if ibsen write it. as it is, i have no name. there are five thousand people in this country writing blays with humor and habby endings. there are ten thousand beautiful women exbiring to spend it on the stage. yet you two are the chosen of vhruebert. when you look into each other's eye and visper how von-der-ful you are, with rising inflection; and say, "to hell with gommerce and the binhead bublic!" remember vhruebert who advances the money!'" "and did you remember vhruebert in that fairy luncheon together?" paula asked happily. "no, i only saw the long white face of stephen cabot. i wanted to take him in my arms and make him whole!" for ten weeks bellingham lay in one of the new york hospitals. "a woman attends him," madame nestor informed. "she is young and has been very beautiful. how well do i know her look of impotence and apathy--that look of unresisting obedience." to paula, the magician seemed back among the dead ages, although madame nestor did not regard the present lull without foreboding. paula could not feel that her real self had been defiled. the dreadful visitations were all but erased, as pass the spectres of delirium. what was more real, and rocked the centres of her being, was the conception of this outcast's battle for life. she could not forget that it was in pursuing her, that he had been injured. facing not only death, but extinction, this idolater of life had, as one physician expressed it, held together his shattered vitality by sheer force of will, until healing set in. the only thought comparable in terror to such a conflict, had to do with the solitudes and abject frigidity of inter-stellar spaces. the skylark letters, as she came to call them, were after all, the eminent feature of the fall and winter weeks. there was a startling paragraph in one of the december series: "i think it is fitting for you to know (though, believe me, i needed no word regarding you from without), that i am not entirely in the dark as to how you have impressed another. i know nothing of the color of your hair or eyes, nothing of your size or appearance,--only just how you _impressed another_. this information, it is needless to say, was unsolicited...." just that, and no further reference. it was as though he had felt it a duty to incorporate those lines. portions of some of the later letters follow: did you know, that without the upward spread of wings--there can be no song from the skylark? this, for me, has a fragrant and delicate significance. it is true that the poor little caged-birds sing, but how sorry they are, since they have to flutter their wings to give forth sound, and cling with their claws to the bars to hold themselves down!... i think you must have been a little wing-weary when you wrote your last letter to me. perhaps the dusk was crowding into the heights. no one knows as i do how the skylark has sung and sung!... you did not say it, but i think you wanted the earth-sweet meadows. it came to me like needed rain--straight to the heart of mine that little plaint in the song. it made me feel how useless is the strength of my arms.... you see, i manage pretty well to keep you up there. i must. and because you are so wonderful, i can.... an enthralling temperament rises to me from your letters. i love to let it flood through my brain.... i do not feel at all sure that you know me truly. what a man's soul appears to be, through the intimations of his higher moments, is not the man altogether that humans must reckon with. nor must they reckon with the trampling violences of one's past. i truly believe in the soul. i believe it is an essence fundamentally fine; that great mothers brood it beautifully into their babes; that it is nourished by the good a man does and thinks. i believe in the ultimate victory of the soul, against the tough, twisted fibres of flesh which rise to demand a thousand sensations. i would have you think of me as one _lifting_; happy in discoveries, the crown of which you are; conscious of an integrating spirit; that sometimes in my silences i answer your song as one glorified. but then, i remember that you must not judge me by the brightest of my work. such are the trained, tense bursts of speed--the swift expiration of the best. i think a man is about half as good as his best work and half as bad as his most lamentable leisure. midway between his emotions and exaltations--is indicated his valuation.... all men clinging to the sweep of the upward cycle, must know the evil multitude at some time. perhaps few men have met and discarded so many personal devils as i, in a single life. but i say to you as i write to-night, those devils cast out seem far back among cannibal centuries. i worship the fine, the pure,--thoughts and deeds which are expanded and warmed by the soul's breath. and you are the anchorage of this sweeter spirit which is upon me. now, out of the logic which life burns into the brain, comes this thought: (i set it down only to fortify the citadel of truth in which our momentous relation alone can prosper.) are there fangs and hackles and claws which i have not yet uncovered? am i given the present serenity as a resting-time before meeting a more subtle and formidable enemy? has my vitality miraculously been preserved for some final battle with a champion of champions of the flesh? is it because the sting is gone from my scar-tissues that i feel so strong and so white to-night? i cannot think this, because i have heard--because i still hear--my skylark sing. the personal element of the foregoing and the hint of years of "wrath and wanderings," which she saw in his second photograph, correlated themselves in paula's mind. they frightened her cruelly, but did not put charter farther away. remembering the effect of the passion which bellingham had projected into her own brain, helped her vaguely to understand charter's earlier years. his splendid emancipation from past evils lifted her soul. and when he asked, if his present serenity might not be a preparation for a mightier struggle, the serious reflection came--might she not ask the same question of herself? the old flesh-mother does not permit one to rest when one is full of strength.... paula perceived that quentin charter was bravely trying to get to some sort of rational adjustment her ideal of him and the blooded reality--and to preserve her from all hurt. doubts could not exist in a mind besieged by such letters.... one of her communications must have reflected something of her terror at the vague forms of his past, which he partially unveiled, for in answer he wrote: do not worry again about the big back time. perhaps i was over assertive about the shadowed years. the main thing is that this is the wonderful present--and you, my white ally of nobler power and purpose. a gale of good things will come to us--hopes, communions and inspirations. we shall know each other--grow so fine together--that mother earth at last will lose her down-pull upon us--as upon perfumes and sunbeams. you have come with mystical brightening. you are the new era. there is healing in gethsemanes since you have swept with grace and imperiousness into possession of the charter heart-country so long undiscovered. the big area is lit, redeemed from chaos. it is thrilling--since you are there. never must you wing away.... sometime you shall know with what strength and truth and tenderness i regard you. the spirit of spring is in my veins. it would turn to summer if we were together, but there could be no reacting winter because you have evolved a mind and a soul.... body and mind and soul all evenly ignited--what a conception of woman! paula begged him not to try to fit such an ideal of the finished feminine to a little brown tame-plumaged skylark. since they might some time meet, she wrote, it was nothing less than unfair for his mind, trained to visualize its images so clearly, to turn its full energies upon an ideal, and expect a human stranger--a happening--in the workaday physical vesture (such as is needed for new york activities) to sublimate the vision. she told him that he would certainly flee away from the reality, and that he would have no one but himself to blame. visions, she added, do not review books nor write to authors whom they have not met. all of which, she expressed very lightly, though she could not but adore the spirit of ideality to which she had aroused his faculties. at this time paula encountered one of the imperishable little books of the world, bracing to her spirit as a day's camp among mountain-pines. nor could she refrain from telling charter about "the practice of the presence of god," as told in the conversations of brother lawrence, a bare-footed carmelite of the seventeenth century. "no wilderness wanderings seem to have intervened between the red sea and the jordan of his experience," she quoted from the preface, and told him how simple it was for this unlearned man to be good--a mere "footman and soldier" whose illumination was the result of seeing a dry and leafless tree in mid-winter, and the thought of the change that would come to it with the spring. his whole life thereafter, largely spent in the monastery kitchen--"a great awkward fellow, who broke everything"--was conducted as if god were his constantly advising companion. it was a life of supernal happiness--and so simple to comprehend. charter's reply to this letter proved largely influential in an important decision paula was destined to make. yes, i have communed with brother lawrence--carried the little volume with me on many voyages. i commend a mind that is fine enough to draw inspiration from a message so chaste and simple. you will be interested to hear that i have known another brother lawrence--a man whose holiness one might describe as "humble" or "lofty," with equal accuracy. this man is a catholic priest, father fontanel of martinique. his parish is in that amazing little port, saint pierre--where africa and france were long ago transplanted and have fused together so enticingly. lafcadio hearn's country--you will say. i wonder that this inscrutable master, hearn, missed father fontanel in his studies.... i was rough from the seas and a long stretch of military campaigning, when my ship turned into that lovely harbor of saint pierre. finding father fontanel, i stayed over several ships, and the healing of his companionship restores me even now to remember. we would walk together on the _morne d'orange_ in the evening. his church was on the rise of the _morne_ at the foot of _rue victor hugo_. he loved to hear about my explorations in books, especially about my studies among the religious enthusiasts. i would tell him of the almost incredible austerities of certain mystics to refine the body, and it was really a sensation to hear him exclaim in his french way: "can it be possible? i am very ignorant. all that i know is to worship the good god who is always with me, and to love my dear children who have so much to bear. i do not know why i should be so happy--unless it is because i know so very little. tell me why i live in a state of continual transport...." i can hear his gentle latin tones even now at night when i shut my eyes--see the lights of the shipping from that cliff road, hear the creoles' moaning songs from the cabins, and recall the old volcano, _la montagne peleé_, outlined like a huge couchant beast against the low, northern stars. father fontanel has meant very much to me. in all my thinking upon the ultimate happiness of the race, he stands out as the bright achievement. at the time i knew him, there was not a single moment of his life in which the physical of the man was supreme. what his earlier years were i do not know, of course, but i confess now i should like to know.... the presence of god was so real to him, that father fontanel did not understand at all his own great spiritual strength. nor do his people quite appreciate how great he is among the priests of men. he has been in their midst so long that they seem accustomed to his power. only a stranger can realize what a pure, shining garment his actual _flesh_ has become. to me there was healing in the very approach of this man. dear father fontanel! all i had to do was to substitute "higher self" for "god" and i had my religion--the practice of the presence of the higher self. does it not seem very clear to you?... to me, god is always an abstraction--something of vaster glory than the central sun, but one's spiritual body, the real being, integrated through interminable lives, from the finest materials of thought and action--this higher self is the presence i must keep always with me, and do i not deserve that it should stand scornfully aloof, when, against my better knowledge, i fall short in the performance?... i think it is his higher self which is so lustrous in father fontanel, and the enveloping purity which comes from you is the same. about such purity there is nothing icy nor fibrous nor sterile.... you are singing in my heart, skylark. the picture charter had drawn of father fontanel of saint pierre appealed strongly to paula; and her mind's quick grasp of the charter religion--the practice of the presence of the higher self--became one of her moments of illumination. this was ground-down simplicity. true, every idea of charter's was based upon reincarnation. indeed, this seemed so familiar to him, that he had not even undertaken to state it as one of his fundamentals. but had she cared, she could have discarded even that, from the present concept. so to live that the form of the best within be not degraded; the days a constant cherishing of this invisible friend; the conduct of life constantly adjusted to please this companion of purity and wisdom--here was ethics which blew away every cloud impending upon her heights. years of such living could not but bring one to the uplands. as to charter, god had always been to her the ineffable--source of solar, aye, universal energy--the unseen all. "walking with god," "talking with god," "a personal god," "presence of god,"--these were forms of speech she could never use, but the higher self--this white charioteer--the soul-body that rises when the clay falls--here was a personal god, indeed. tenth chapter paula sees selma cross in tragedy, and in her own apartment next morning is given a reality to play selma cross did not reach new york until the morning of the opening day at the _herriot theatre_. she was very tired from rehearsals and the try-outs along the string of second cities. there had been a big difference of opinion regarding _the thing_, among what new yorkers are pleased to call the provincial critics. from the character of the first notices, on the contrary, it was apparent that the townsmen were not a little afraid to trust such a startling play to new york. mid-forenoon of an early april day, the actress rapped upon paula's door. "i have seen the boards," paula exclaimed. "'selma cross' in letters big as you are; and yesterday afternoon they were hanging the electric sign in front of the _herriot_. also i shall be there to-night--since i was wise enough to secure a ticket ten days ago. isn't it glorious?" "yes, i am quite happy about it," selma cross said, stretching out upon the lounge. "of course, it's not over until we see the morning papers. i was never afraid--even of the vitriol-throwers, before. you see, i have to think about success for stephen cabot, too." "is he well?" paula asked hastily. "oh yes, though i think sometimes he's a martyr. oh, i have so much to say----" "you said you would tell me some time how vhruebert first decided to take you on," paula urged. "before i got to the gate where the star-stuff passes through?" selma cross answered laughingly. "that was four years ago. i had been to him many times before he let me in. his chair squeaked under him. he looked at me first as if he were afraid i would spring at him. i told him what i could do, and he kept repeating that he didn't know it and new york didn't know it. i said i would show new york, but unfortunately i had to show him first. he screwed up his face and stared at me, as if i were startlingly original in my ugliness. i know he could hear my heart beat. "'i can't do anything for you, miss gross,' he said impatiently, but in spite of himself, he added, 'come to-morrow.' you see, i had made him think, and that hurt. he knew something of my work all right, and wondered where he would put a big-mouthed, clear-skinned, yellow-eyed amazon. the next day, he kept me waiting in the reception-room until i could have screamed at the half-dressed women on the walls. "'i don't know exactly why i asked you to come again,' was his greeting when the door finally opened to me. 'what was it, once more, that you mean to do?' "'i mean to be the foremost tragedienne,' i said. "'sit down. tragedy doesn't bay.' "'i shall make it pay.' "'um-m. how do you know? some brivate vire of yours?' "'i can show you that i shall make it pay.' "'my gott, not here! we will go to the outskirts.' "and he meant it, paula. it was mid-winter. he took me to a little summer-theatre up lenox way. the place had not been open since thanksgiving. vhruebert sat down in the centre of the frosty parquet, shivering in his great coat. you know he's a thin-lipped, smile-less little man, but not such a dead soul as he looks. he leaks out occasionally through the dollar-varnish. can you imagine a colder reception? vhruebert sat there blowing out his breath repeatedly, seemingly absorbed in the effect the steam made in a little bar of sunlight which slanted across the icy theatre. that was my try-out before vhruebert. i gave him some of sudermann, boker, and ibsen. he raised his hand finally, and when i halted, he called in a bartender from the establishment adjoining, and commanded me to give something from camille and sapho. i would have murdered him if he had been fooling me after that. the bartender shivered in the cold. "'what do you think of that, mr. vite-apron?' vhruebert inquired at length. he seemed to be warmer. "'hot stuff,' said the man. 'it makes your coppers sizzle.' "the criticism delighted vhruebert. 'miss gross, you make our goppers sizzle,' he exclaimed, and then ordered wine and told me to be at his studio to-morrow at eleven. that was the real winning," selma cross concluded. "to-night i put the crown on it." paula invariably felt the fling of emotions when selma cross was near. the latter seemed now to have found her perfect dream; certainly there was fresh coloring and poise in her words and actions. it was inspiriting for paula to think of selma cross and stephen cabot having been accepted by the hard-headed vhruebert--that such a pair could eat his bread and drink his wine with merry hearts. it was more than inspiriting for her to think of this vibrant heart covering and mothering the physically unfortunate. paula asked, as only a woman could, the question uppermost in both minds. "love me?" selma whispered. "i don't know, dear. i know we love to be together. i know that i love him. i know that he would not ask me to take for a husband--a broken vessel----" "but you can make him know that--to you--he is not a broken vessel!... oh, that would mean so little to me!" "yes, but i should have to tell him--of old villiers--and the other!... oh, god, he is white fire! he is not the kind who could understand that!... i thought i could do anything, i said, 'i am case-hardened. nothing can make me suffer!... i will go my way,--and no man, no power, earthly or occult, can make me alter that way,' but stephen cabot has done it. i would rather win for him to-night, than be called the foremost living tragedienne.... i think he loves me, but there is the price i paid--and i didn't need to pay it, for i had already risen out of the depths. that was vanity. i needed no angel. i didn't care until i met stephen cabot!" "i think--i think, if i were stephen cabot, i could forgive that," paula said slowly. she wondered at herself for these words when she was alone, and the little place of books was no longer energized by the other's presence. selma started up from the lounge, stretched her great arm half across the room and clutched paula's hand. there was a soft grateful glow in the big yellow eyes. "do you know that means something--from a woman like you? always i shall remember that--as a fine thing from my one fine woman. mostly, they have hated me--what you call--our sisters." "you are a different woman--you're all brightened, since you met stephen cabot. i feel this," paula declared. "even if all smoothed out here, there is still the old covenant in kentucky," selma said, after a moment, and sprang to her feet, shaking herself full-length. "won't you tell me about that, too?" "yes, but not now. i must go down-town. there is a dress-maker--and _we_ breakfast together.... root for me--for us, to-night--won't you, dear girl?" "with all my heart." they passed out through the hall together--just as the elevator-man tucked a letter under the door.... alone, paula read this spring greeting from quentin charter: i look away this morning into the brilliant east. i think of you there--as glory waits. i feel the strength of a giant to battle through dragons of flesh and cataclysms of nature.... who knows what conflicts, what conflagrations, rage in the glowing distance--between you and me? not i, but that i have strength--i do know.... by the golden glory of this wondrous spring morning which spreads before my eyes a world of work and heroism blessed of the most high god, i only ask to know that you are there--_that you are there_.... while eternity is yet young, we shall emerge out of time and distance; though it be from a world altered by great cosmic shattering--yet shall we emerge, serene man and woman. you are there in the brilliant east. in good time i shall go to you. meanwhile i have your light and your song. the dull dim brute is gone from me, forever. even that black prince of the blood, passion, stands beyond the magnetic circle. with you _there_, i feel a divine right kingship, and all the black princes of the body are afar off, herding with the beasts. i tell you, since i have heard the skylark sing--there is no death. that day became a vivid memory. charter reached the highest pinnacle of her mind--a man who could love and who could wait. the message from the west exalted her. here, indeed, was one of the new voices. all through the afternoon, out of the hushes of her mind, would rise this pæan from the west--sentence after sentence _for her_.... no, not for her alone. she saw him always in the midst of his people, illustrious among his people.... she saw him coming to her over mountains--again and again, she caught a glimpse of him, configured among the peaks, and striding toward her--yet between them was a valley torn with storm.... it came to her that there must be a prophecy in this message; that he would not be suffered to come to her easily as his letters came. yet, the strength he had felt was hers, and those were hours of ecstasy--while the gray of the spring afternoon thickened into dark. only _the thing_ could have called her out that night; for once, when it was almost time to go, the storm lifted from the valley between them. she saw his path to her, just for an instant, and she longed to see it again.... paula entered the theatre a moment before the curtain rose, but in the remaining seconds of light, discovered in the fourth aisle far to the right--"the finest, lowest head" and the long white face of stephen cabot. if a man's face may be called beautiful, his was--firm, delicate, poetic,--brilliant eyes, livid pallor. and the hand in which the thin cheek rested, while large and chalky-white, was slender as a girl's.... in the middle of the first act, a tall, elderly man shuffled down the aisle and sank into the chair in front of paula, where he sprawled, preparing to be bored. this was felix larch, one of the best known of the metropolitan critics, notorious as a play-killer. the first-night crowd can be counted on. it meant nothing to vhruebert that the house was packed. the venture was his up to the rise of the curtain. paula was absorbed by the first two acts of the play, but did not feel herself fit to judge. she was too intensely interested in the career of selma cross; in the face of stephen cabot; in the attitudes of felix larch, who occasionally forgot to pose. it was all very big and intimate, but the bigger drama, up to the final curtain, was the battle for success against the blasé aspirations of the audience and the ultra-critical enemy personified in the man before her. the small and excellent company was balanced to a crumb. adequate rehearsals had finished the work. then the lines were rich, forceful and flowing--strange with a poetic quality that "got across the footlights." paula noted these exterior matters with relief. unquestionably the audience forgot itself throughout the second act. paula realized, with distaste, that her own critical sense was bristling for trouble. she had hoped to be as receptive to emotional enjoyment as she imagined the average play-goer to be. though she failed signally in this, her sensibilities were in no way outraged, nor even irritated. on the contrary, she began to rise to the valor of the work and its performance. the acting of selma cross, though supreme in repression, was haunting, unforgettable. felix larch had twice disturbed her by taking his seat in the midst of the first and second acts. she had heard that he rarely sat out a whole performance, and took it therefore as a good omen when he returned, in quite a gentlemanly fashion, as the final curtain rose. by some new mastery of style, selma cross had managed, almost throughout, to keep her profile to the audience. the last act was half gone, moreover, before the people realized that there were qualities in her voice, other than richness and flexibility. she had held them thus far with the theme, charging the massed consciousness of her audience with subtle passions. now came the rising moments. full into the light she turned her face.... she was quite alone with her tragedy. a gesture of the great bare arm, as the stage darkened, and she turned loose upon the men and women a perfect havoc of emptiness--in the shadows of which was manifesting a huge unfinished human. she made the people see how a mighty passion, suddenly bereft of its object, turns to devour the brain that held it. they saw the great, gray face of _the thing_ slowly rubbed out--saw the mind behind it, soften and run away into chaos. there was a whisper, horrible with exhaustion--a breast beaten in the gloom. felix larch swore softly.... _the thing_ was laughing as the curtain crawled down over her--an easy, wind-blown, chattering laugh.... the critic grasped the low shoulders of a bald, thin-lipped acquaintance, exclaiming: "where did you get that diadem, lucky one?" paula heard a hoarse voice, but the words of the reply were lost. "come over across the street for a minute. i want a stimulant and a talk with you," felix larch added, wriggling into his overcoat. there was a low, husky laugh, and then plainly these words: "she makes your goppers sizzle--eh?... wait until i tell her she has won and i'll go with you," added the queer little man, whom paula knew now to be vhruebert.... the latter passed along the emptied aisle toward stephen cabot, who had not left his seat. paula noted with a start that the playwright's head had dropped forward in a queer way. vhruebert glanced at him, and grasped his shoulder. the old manager then cleared his throat--a sound which apparently had meaning for the nearest usher, who hurried forward to be dispatched for a doctor. it was very cleverly and quietly done.... stephen cabot, who could see more deeply than others into the art of the woman and the power of his own lines, and possibly deeper into the big result of this fine union of play and player--had fainted at the climacteric moment.... a physician now breasted his way through the crowd at the doors, and _the thing_ suddenly appeared in the nearest box and darted forward like a rush of wind. she gathered the insensible one in her arms and repeated his name low and swiftly. "yes," he murmured, opening his eyes at last. they seemed alone.... presently stephen cabot laughingly protested that he was quite well, and disappeared behind the scenes, assisted by the long, bare arm that had so recently hurled havoc over the throng. paula waited for a few moments at the door until she was assured. driving home through the park, she felt that she could not endure another emotion. for a long time she tossed restlessly in bed, too tired to sleep. a reacting depression had fallen upon her worn nerves. she could not forget the big structure of the day's joy, but substance had dropped from it.... the cold air sweeping through her sleeping-room seemed to come from desolate mountains. lost entirely was her gladness of victory in the selma cross achievement. she called herself spiteful, ungrateful, and quite miserably at last sank into sleep.... she was conscious at length of the gray of morning, a stifling pressure in her lungs, and the effort to rouse herself. she felt the cold upon her face; yet the air seemed devitalized by some exhausting voltage, she had known before. there was a horrid jangle in her brain, as of two great forces battling to complete the circuit there. a face imploring from a garret-window, a youth in a lion's skin, a rock in the desert and a rock in the park, the dim hotel parlor and the figure of yesterday among the mountain-peaks--so the images rushed past--until the tortured face of bellingham (burning eyes in the midst of ghastly pallor), caught and held her mind still. from a room small as her own, and gray like her own with morning, he called to her: "come to me.... come to me, paula linster.... i have lived for you--oh, come to me!" she sprang out of bed, and knelt. how long it was before she freed herself, paula never knew. indeed, she was not conscious of being actually awake, until she felt the bitter cold and hurried into the heated room beyond. she was physically wretched, but no longer obsessed.... she would not believe now that the beyond-devil had called again. it was all a dream, she told herself again and again--this rush of images and the summons from the enemy. yesterday, she had been too happy; human bodies cannot endure so long such refining fire; to-day was the reaction and to-morrow her old strength and poise would come again. quite bravely, she assured herself that she was glad to pay the price for the hours of yesterday. she called for the full series of morning papers, resolving to occupy her mind with the critical notices of the new play. these were quite remarkable in the unanimity of their praise. the cross-cabot combination had won, indeed, but paula could extract no buoyancy from the fact, nor did black coffee dispel the vague premonitive shadows which thickened in the background of her mind. the rapping of selma cross upon her door was hours earlier than ever before. she, too, had called for the morning papers. a first night is never finished until these are out. paula did not feel equal to expressing all that the play had meant to her. it was with decided disinclination that she admitted her neighbor. selma cross had not bathed, nor dressed her hair. she darted in noiselessly in furry slippers--a yellow silk robe over her night-dress. very silken and sensuous, the huge, laughing creature appeared as she sank upon the lounge and shaded her yellow eyes from the light. so perfect was her health, and so fresh her happiness, that an hour or two of sleep had not left her eyes heavy nor her skin pallid. there was an odor of sweet clover about her silks that paula never sensed afterward without becoming violently ill. she knew she was wrong--that every fault was hers--but she could not bear the way her neighbor cuddled this morning in the fur of the couch-covering. selma had brought in every morning newspaper issued and a thick bundle of telegrams besides. paula told her, literally forcing the sentences, how splendidly the play and her own work had appealed to her. this task, which would have been a pure delight at another time, was adequately accomplished only after much effort now. it appeared that the actress scarcely heard what she was saying. the room was brightening and there was a grateful piping of steam in the heaters of the apartment. "so glad you liked it, dear," selma said briefly. "and isn't it great the way the papers treated it? not one of them panned the play nor my work.... i say, it's queer when a thing you've dreamed of for years comes true at last--it's different from the way you've seen it come to others. i mean there's something unique and a fullness you never imagined. oh, i don't know nor care what i'm drowning to say.... please do look over these telegrams--_from everybody_! there's over a hundred! i had to come in here. i'd have roused you out of bed--if you hadn't been up. the telephone will be seething a little later--and i wanted this talk with you." big theatrical names were attached to the yellow messages. it is a custom for stages-folk to speed a new star through the first performance with a line of courage--wired. you are supposed to count your real friends in those who remember the formality. it is not well to be a day late.... "and did you notice how felix larch uncoiled?" paula looked up from the telegrams to explain how this critic had been the object of her contemplation the night before. "he hasn't turned loose in that sort of praise this season," selma cross added. "his notice alone, dear, is enough to keep us running at the _herriot_ until june--and we'll open there again in the fall, past doubt." paula felt wicked in that she must enthuse artificially. she forced herself to remember that ordinarily she could have sprung with a merry heart into the very centre of the other's happiness. "listen, love," selma resumed, ecstactically hugging her pillow, "i want to tell you things. i wanted to yesterday, but i had to hurry off. you've got so much, that you must have the rest. besides, it's in my mind this morning, because it was the beginning of last night----" "yes, tell me," paula said faintly, bringing her a cup of coffee. "i was first smitten with the passion to act--a gawky girl of ten at a child's party," selma began. "i was speaking a piece when the impulse came to turn loose. it may have been because i was so homely and straight-haired, or it may have been that i did the verses so differently from the ordinary routine of speaking pieces--anyway, a boy in the room laughed. another boy immediately bored in upon the scoffer, downed his enemy and was endeavoring hopefully to kill him with bare hands, when i interfered. my champion and i walked home together and left a wailing and disordered company. that's the first brush. "my home was danube, kentucky. they had a dramatic society there. eight years after the child's party, this dramatic society gave _a tribute to art_. where the piece came from is forgotten. how it got its name never was known outside of the sorry brain that thrust it, deformed but palpitating, upon the world. mrs. fiske couldn't have made other than a stick of the heroine. the hero was larger timber, though too dead for vine leaves. but, i think i told you about the big sister--put there in blindness or by budding genius. there were possibilities in that character. danube didn't know it, or it wouldn't have fallen to me. indeed, i remember toward the end of the piece--a real moment of windy gloom and falling leaves, a black-windowed farmhouse on the left, the rest a desolate horizon--in such a moment the big sister plucks out her heart to show its running death. "i had persisted in dramatic work, in and out of season, during those eight years, but it really was because the big sister didn't need to be beautiful that i got the part. i wove the lines tighter and sharpened the thing in rehearsals, until the rest of the cast became afraid, not that i would outshine them, but that i might disgrace the society on the night o' nights. you see, i was only just tolerated. poor father, he wasn't accounted much in danube, and there was a raft of us. poor, dear man! "danube wasn't big enough to attract real shows, so the visiting drama gave expression to limited trains, trap-doors, blank cartridges and falling cliffs"--selma cross chuckled expansively at the memory--"and i plunged my fellow-townsmen into waters deeper and stormier than _nobody's claim_ or _shadows of a great city_. wasn't it monstrous?" paula inclined her head, but was not given time to answer. "a spring night in kentucky--hot, damp, starlit--shall i ever forget that terrible night of _a tribute to art_? all danube somebodies were out to see the younger generation perpetuate the lofty culture of the place. grandmothers were there, who played _east lynne_ on the same stage--before the raids of wolfert and morgan; and daddies who sat like deans, eyes dim, but artistic, you know--watched the young idea progress upon familiar paths.... the heroine did the best she could. i was a camel beside her--strode about her raging and caressing. you see how i could have spoiled _the thing_ last night--if i had let the passion flood through me like a torrent through a broken dam? that's what i did in danube--and some full-throated baying as well. oh, it is horrible to remember. "the town felt itself brutalized, and justly. i had left a rampant thing upon every brain, and very naturally the impulse followed to squelch the perpetrator for all time. i don't blame danube now. i had been bad; my lack of self-repression, scandalous. the part, as i had evolved it, was out of all proportion to the piece, to danube, to amateur theatricals. i don't know if i struck a false note, but certainly i piled on the feeling. "can you imagine, paula, that it was an instant of singular glory to me--that climax?... poor danube couldn't see that i was combustible fuel, freshly lit; that i was bound to burn with a steady flame when the pockets of gas were exploded.... my dazed people did not leave the hall at once. it was as if they had taken strong medicine and wanted to study the effect upon each other. i came out from behind at last, up the aisle, sensing disorder where i had expected praise, and was joined by my old champion, calhoun knox, who had whipped the scoffer at the child's party. he pressed my hand. we had always been friends. passing around the edge of the crowd, i heard this sentence: "'some one--the police, if necessary--must prevent selma cross from making another such shocking display of herself!' "it was a woman who spoke, and the man at her side laughed. i had no time nor thought to check calhoun. he stepped up to the man beside the woman. 'laugh like that again,' he said coldly, 'and i'll kill you!' "it seemed to me that all danube turned upon us. my face must have been mist-gray. i know i felt like falling. the woman's words had knifed me. "'_oh, you cat-minds!_' i flung at them. calhoun knox drew me out into the dark. i don't know how far out on the lone ridge pike we walked, before it occurred to either of us to halt or speak," selma cross went on very slowly. "i think we walked nearly to the knobs. the night had cleared. it was wonderfully still out there among the hemp-fields. i knew how he was pitying me, and told him i must go away. "'i can't stand for you to go away, selma,' calhoun said. 'i want you to stay and be mine always. we always got along together. you are beautiful enough to me!' "i guess it was hard for him to say it," the woman finished with a laugh, "i used to wish he hadn't put in that 'enough.' but that moment--it was what i needed. there was always something big and simple about calhoun knox. my hand darted to his shoulder and closed there like a mountaineer's, 'you deserve more of a woman than i am, calhoun,' i said impetuously, 'but you can have me when i come to marry--but, god, that's far off. i like you, calhoun. i'd fight for you to the death--as you fought for me to-night and long ago. i think i'd hate any woman who got you--but there's no wife in me to-night. i have failed to win danube, kentucky, but i'll win the world. i may be a burnt-out hag then, but i'll come back--when i have won the world--and you can have me and it.... listen, calhoun knox, if ever a man means _husband_ to me--you shall be the man, but to-night,' i ended with a flourish, and turned back home, 'i'm not a woman--just a devil at war with the world!'" "but haven't you heard from him?" paula asked, after a moment. "yes, he wrote and wrote. calhoun knox is the kind of stuff that remembers. the time came when i didn't have the heart to answer. i was afraid i'd ask him for money, or ask him to come to help me. help out of danube! i couldn't do that--better old villiers.... but i mustn't lie to you. i went through the really hard part alone.... so calhoun's letters were not answered, and maybe he has forgotten. anyway, before i marry--he shall have his chance. oh, i'll make it hard for him. i wouldn't open any letter from danube now--but he shall have his chance----" "what do you mean to do?" "why, we'll finish the season here--and vhruebert has promised us a little run in the west during june. we touch cincinnati. from there i'll take the company down to danube. i've got to win the world and danube. after the play, i'll walk out on the lone ridge pike--among the hemp-fields--with calhoun knox----" "but he may have married----" "god, how i hope so! i shall wish him kingly happiness--and rush back to stephen cabot." paula could not be stirred by the story this morning. she missed, as never before, some big reality behind the loves of selma cross. there was too much of the sense of possession in her story--arm-possession. so readily, could she be transformed into the earthy female, fighting tooth and claw for her own. paula could hardly comprehend in her present depression, what she had said yesterday about stephen cabot's capacity to forgive.... she was glad, when selma cross rose, yawned, stretched, and shook herself. the odor of sweet clover was heaviness in the room.... the long, bare arm darted over the reading-table and plucked forth the book paula loved. the volume had not been hidden; there was no reason why she should not have done this, yet the action hurt the other like a drenching of icy water upon her naked heart. "ho-ho--quentin charter! so _a damsel came to peter_?" "i think--i hear your telephone,--selma!" paula managed to say, her voice dry, as if the words were cut from paper. "yes, yes, i must go, but here's another story. a rotten cad--but how he can write! i don't mean books--but letters!... he's the one i told you about--the westerner--while the old man was in the south!" the last was called from the hall. the heavy door slammed between them. paula could not stand--could not keep her mouth from dropping open. her temples seemed to be cracking apart.... she saw herself in half-darkness--like _the thing_ last night--beating her breast in the gloom. she felt as if she must laugh--in that same wind-blown, chattering way. eleventh chapter paula is swept deep into a desolate country by the high tide, but notes a quick change in selma cross paula wrote a short letter to quentin charter in the afternoon, and did not begin to regret it until too late. it was not that she had said anything unwise or discordant--but that she had written at all.... her heart felt dead. she had trusted her all to one--and her all was lost. a little white animal that had always been warm and petted, suddenly turned naked to face the reality of winter,--this was the first sense, and the paramount trouble was that she could not die quickly enough. the full realization was slow to come. indeed, it was not until the night and the next day that she learned the awful reaches of suffering of which a desolated human mind is capable. it was like one of those historic tides which rise easily to the highest landmarks of the shore-dweller, and not till then begin to show their real fury, devastating vast fields heretofore virgin to the sea. along many coasts and in many lives there is one, called the high tide.... paula felt that she could have coped with her sorrow, had this been a personal blow, but her faith in the race of men, the inspiration of her work, her dream of service--all were uprooted. she did not pretend to deny that she had loved quentin charter--her first and loftiest dream of a mate, the heart's cry of all her womanhood. true, as man and woman, they had made no covenant, but to her (and had he not expressed the same in a score of ways?), there had been enacted a more wonderful adjustment, than any words could bring about. this was the havoc. she had lost more than a mere human lover. she dared now to say it, because, in losing, she perceived how great it had become--the passion was gone from her soul. her place in the world was desolate; all her labors pointless. as a woman, she had needed his arms, less than an anchorage of faith in his nobility. and how her faith had rushed forth to that upper window across the states! _words_--the very word was poison to her. writing--an emptiness, a treachery. veritably, he had torn the pith out of all her loved books.... bellingham had shown her what words meant--words that drew light about themselves, attracting a brilliance that blinded her; words that wrought devilishness in the cover of their white light--but bellingham had not assailed her faith. this was the work of a man who had lifted her above the world, not one who called from beneath. bellingham could not have crippled her faith like this--and left it to die.... almost momentarily, came the thought of his letters--thoughts _from_ these letters. they left her in a dark--that was madness.... and if they were false, what was the meaning of her exaltations? night and morning she had looked into the west, sending him all the graces of her mind, all the secrets of her heart. he had told her of the strange power that had come to him, of the new happiness--how, as never before, he had felt radiations of splendid strength. she had not hurried him to her, but had read with ecstasy, believing that a tithe of his new power was her gift.... words, desolate, damnable words.... "and i had thought to heal and lift new york," she exclaimed mockingly, looking down into the gray streets after the age-long night. "new york holds fast to her realities--the things she has found sure. it is well to be normal and like new york!" the day after the door had shut upon selma cross, paula was a betrayed spirit wandering alone in polar darkness. she had not slept, nor could she touch food. twice the actress had rapped; repeatedly the telephone called--these hardly roused her. letters were thrust under her door and lay untouched in the hall. she was lying upon the lounge in the little room of books, as the darkness swiftly gathered that second day. all the meanings of her childhood, all the promises for fulfillment with the years, were lost. the only passion she knew was for the quick end of life--to be free from the world, and its bellinghams. "god, tell me," she murmured, and her voice sounded dry and strange in the dark, "what is this thing, soul, which cries out for its ideal--builds its mate from all things pure, from dreams that are cleansed in the sky; dreams that have not known the touch of any earthly thing--what is this soul, that, now bereft, cries with rachel, 'death, let me in!...' oh, death, put me to sleep--put me to sleep!" * * * * * voices reached her from the hall: "you can knock or ring, sir, if you like," the elevator-man was saying, "but i tell you miss linster is not there. she has not answered the 'phone, and there is one of the letters, sticking out from under the door, that i put there this morning, or yesterday afternoon." "when did you see her last?" the voice was reifferscheid's. "day before yesterday she was in and out. miss cross, the lady who lives in this other apartment, said she called on miss linster yesterday morning." "the point is that she left no word--either with you or with us--before going away. we are very good friends of hers. i'll ring for luck----" the bell rang long and loudly. paula imagined the thick thumb pressed against it, and the big troubled face. she wanted to answer--but facing reifferscheid was not in her that moment.... the elevator was called from below. "no use," reifferscheid said finally. "here's a coin for your trouble. i'll call up the first thing in the morning----" she heard the click of the elevator-door, and the quick whine of the car, sinking in the shaft. she recalled that she had not been at _the states_ for four or five days. she had intended going down-town yesterday.... she thought long of reifferscheid's genuine and changeless kindness, of his constant praise for sincerity anywhere and his battling for the preservation of ideals in all work. his faith in charter recurred to her--and his frequently unerring judgments of men and women she had known. all about him was sturdy and wholesome--a substance, this, to hold fast.... reifferscheid had come in the crisis. paula fell asleep, thinking of snails and stickle-backs, flowers and sister annie, big trees and solid friends. she awoke in a different world--at least, a world in which tea and toast and marmalade were reckonable. her thoughts went bravely down into the depression for salvage; and a mind that can do this is not without hope. it was only eight. reifferscheid had not yet 'phoned.... charter would have her letter now, or soon--that letter written seven eternities ago in the first hysteria, while she could yet weep. she could not have written in the ice-cold silence of yesterday. she wished that she had not let him see that she could weep. when the tragedy had risen to high-tide in her soul--there had been no words for him. would she ever write again?... her mind reverted now to the heart of things. in the first place, selma cross would not intentionally lie. she asked so little of men--and had asked less a few years ago--that to have her call one "cad" with an adjective, was a characterscape, indeed. that she had intimately known quentin charter three years before, was unsettling in itself.... true, he made no pretensions to a righteous past. all his work suggested utter delvings into life. he had even hinted a background that was black-figured and restlessly stirring, but she had believed that he wrote these things in the same spirit which prompted the ascetic thoreau to say, "i have never met a worse man than myself." she believed that the evils of sense were not so complicated, but that genius can fathom them without suffering their defilement. his whole present, as depicted in his letters, was a song--bright as his open prairies, and pure as the big lakes of his country.... could she become reconciled to extended periods of physical abandonment in the charter-past? faintly her heart answered, but quickly, "yes, if they are forever nameless...." "specific abandonments?" her mind pinned her heart to this, with the added sentence, "is it fair for you not to hear what selma cross has to say--and what quentin charter may add?..." the elevator-man was at the door with further letters. he did not ring, because it was so early. softly, she went into the hall. there was an accumulation of mail upon the floor--two from _the states_; one from charter.... this last was opened after a struggle. it must have been one of those just brought, for it was dated, the day before yesterday, and she usually received his letters the second morning. indeed, this had been written on the very afternoon that she had penned her agony. i know i shall be sorry that i have permitted you to find me in a black mood like this, but i feel that i must tell you. a sense of isolation, altogether new, since first your singing came, flooded over me this afternoon. it is as though the invisible connections between us were deranged--as if there had been a storm and the wires were down. it began about noon, when the thought of the extreme youth of my soul, beside yours, began to oppress me. i perceived that my mind is imperiously active rather than humbly wise; that i am capable of using a few thoughts flashily, instead of being great-souled from rich and various ages. ordinarily, i should be grateful for the gifts i have, and happy in the bright light from you--but this last seems turned away. won't you let me hear at once, please? she was not given long to ponder upon this strange proof of his inner responsiveness; yet the deep significance of it remained with her, and could not but restore in part a certain impressive meaning of their relation. selma cross called, and reifferscheid 'phoned, as paula was just leaving for down-town. it had been necessary, she explained, to the literary editor in his office, for her to make a sorry little pilgrimage during the past few days. she was very grateful it was over. reifferscheid said abruptly that pilgrimages were nefarious when they made one look so white and trembly. "the point is, you'd better make another to staten island," he added. "nice rough passage in a biting wind, barren fields, naked woods, and all that. besides, you must see my system of base-burners----" "i'll just do that--when i catch up a little on my work," paula said. "i'm actually yearning for it, but there are so many loose ends to tie up, that i couldn't adequately enjoy myself for a day or two. really, i'm not at all ill. you haven't enough respect for my endurance, which is of a very good sort." "don't be too sure about that," reifferscheid said quickly. "it's altogether too good to be hurt.... do you realize you've never had your hat off in this office?" "i hadn't thought of it," she said, studying him. plainly by his bravado he wasn't quite sure of his ground. "there ought to be legislation against people with hair the color of yours----" reifferscheid regarded her a moment before he added, "wearing hats. you must come over to staten--if for no other reason----" "oh, i begin to see perfectly now," paula observed. "you want to add me to your system of base-burners." he chuckled capaciously. "early next week, then?" "yes, with delight" he did not tell her of being worried to the point of travelling far up-town to ring the bell of her apartment. she could not like him less for this.... there was a telegram from charter, when she reached home. in the next two hours, a thought came to paula and was banished a score of times; yet with each recurrence it was more integrate and compelling. this was saturday afternoon. selma cross returned from her matinée shortly before six and was alone. paula met her in the hall, and followed into the other's apartment. "i have just an hour, dear. dimity has supper ready. stay, won't you?" "yes," paula forced herself to say. "i wanted to ask you about quentin charter. you were called away--just as you were speaking of him the other morning.... i have not met him, but his two recent books are very wonderful. i reviewed the second for _the states_. he thanked me in a letter which was open to answer." selma cross stretched out her arms and laughed mirthlessly. "and so you two have been writing letters?" she observed. "i'm putting down a bet that his are rich--if he's interested." paula had steeled herself for this. there were matters which she must learn before making a decision which his telegram called for. her mind held her inexorably to the work at hand, though her heart would have faltered in the thick cloud of misgivings. "yes, there is much in his letters--so much that i can't quite adjust him to the name you twice designated. remember, you once before called him that--when i didn't know that you were speaking of quentin charter." "i'll swear this much also," selma cross said savagely, "he has found your letters worth while." "is that to the point?" "why, yes paula," the other replied, darting a queer look at her. "if i am to be held to a point--it is--because, as a writer, he uses what is of value. he makes women mad about him, and then goes back to his garret, and sobers up enough to write an essay or a story out of his recent first-hand studies in passion." "you say he was drinking--when you knew him?" "enough to kill another man. it didn't seem to make his temperament play less magically. he was never silly or limp, either in mind or body, but he must have been burned to a cinder inside. he intimated that he didn't dare to go on exhibition any day before mid-afternoon." paula, very pale, bent forward and asked calmly as she could: "i wish you would tell me _just_ what quentin charter did to make you think of him always--in connection with that name." "on condition that you will recall occasionally that you have a plate before you--also supper, which won't stay hot." selma cross spoke with some tension, for she felt that the other was boring rather pointedly, and it was not her time of day for confessions. still, the quality of her admiration for paula linster involved large good nature. ".... extraordinary, as it may seem, my dear, charter made me believe that he was passionately in love. i was playing sarah blixton in _caller herrin_,--my first success. it was a very effective minor part and an exceptionally good play. it took his eye--my work especially--and he arranged to meet me. felix larch, by the way, took care of this formality for him. incidentally, i didn't know felix larch, but my cue was greatly to be honored. charter told me that larch said i was peculiar for an actress and worth watching, because i had a brain.... the man, charter, was irresistible in a wine-room. i say in a wine-room, not that his talk was of the sort you might expect there, but that he was drinking--and was at home nowhere else. you see, he has a working knowledge of every port in the world, and to me it seemed--of every book. then, he has a sharp, swift, colorful way of expressing himself.... i told you, villiers was away. i couldn't realize that it was merely a new type charter found in me.... we were together when i wasn't at work. it was a wild and wonderful fortnight--to me. he used to send notes in the forenoon--things he thought of, when he couldn't sleep, he said. i knew he was getting himself braced in those early hours.... then, one night at supper, he informed me that he was leaving for the west that night. he had only stopped in new york, on the way home from asia, via suez. i was horribly hurt, but there was nothing for me to say. he was really ill. the drink wouldn't bite that night, he said. we finished the supper like two corpses, charter trying to make me believe he'd be back shortly. i haven't seen him since." paula began to breathe a bit more freely. "didn't he write?" "yes, at first, but i saw at once he was forcing. then he dictated an answer to one of mine--dictated a letter to me----" selma cross halted. the lids narrowed across her yellow eyes. "he had said he loved you?" paula asked with effort. "by the way," selma cross retorted, "did you notice that word 'love' in either of his recent books--except as a generality?" "since you speak of it, i do recall he markedly avoided it," paula said with consuming interest. "no, he didn't use it to me. he said he never put it in a man's or woman's mouth in a story. ah, but there are other words," she went on softly. "the man was a lover--beyond dreams--impassioned." "about that dictated letter?" paula urged hastily. "yes, i told him i didn't want any more that way. then villiers was back, and beckoning again. the last word i received was from charter's stenographer. she said he was ill. oh, i did hear afterward--that he was in a sanatorium. god knows, he must have landed there--if he kept up the pace he was going when i knew him." in the moment of silence which followed, paula was hoping with all her might--that this was the end. "oh, i know what you're thinking!" selma said suddenly. "he has fascinated you, and you can't see that he's a rotten cad--from what i've said so far. a woman can never see the meanness of a man from another woman's experience with him. she forgives him for calling forth all another woman has--and then shaking her loose like a soiled bath-robe when one's tub is ready. but it's different when she's the discarded woman!... he was so deep, i can't believe he didn't know that episodes were new to me. likely, he's had so many around the world, that he can't take them more seriously from the woman's angle--than from his own.... quentin charter was the first man to arouse all my dreams. can't you see how it hurt when he turned out to be--well, that name you refuse to utter?" "yes, of course, yes, but you suggest more, selma!" "he used me for 'copy,' as they call it. his article on the 'acting of stage-folk after hours,' appeared in a magazine a few weeks later. he's always a saint in his garret, you know. the article was filled with cutting cynicism about stage-matters, many of which he had discovered in the two weeks with me--and laughed over with his wine. i could have forgiven that, only he made me believe that there was not a thought apart from selma cross in his mind when we were together.... oh, what's the use of me lying? i could have forgiven that, anyway!" "what was it, you could not forgive?" paula's face was bloodless. "he told it all about--how easy i had proved in his hands!" the actress revealed with suppressed fury. the other shrank back. "that's where the expression comes in, paula--the expression you hate. drunk or sober--cad's the word. what a woman gives to a _man_ is put in his inner vault forever. what she gives to a _cad_--is passed on to his friends." paula arose, tortured as if branded within. here was a defection of character which an entire incarnation of purity could not make whole. it was true that in her heart, she had not been mortally stricken before; true, as selma cross had so bitterly declared, that a woman is not stayed from mating with a man because a sister has suffered at his hands. "i have nothing to say about the word, if that is true." paula spoke with difficulty, and in a hopeless tone. "please, eat some supper, dear----" there was heart-break in the answer: "i cannot. i'm distressed, because i have spoiled yours.... you have answered everything readily--and it has hurt you.... i--feel--as--if--i--must--tell--you--why--i--asked--or i wouldn't have dared to force questions upon you. his letters made me think of him a great deal. when you picked up his book the other morning and said _that_--why, it was all i could stand for the time. his work is so high and brave--i can hardly understand how he could talk about a woman whose only fault was that she gave him what he desired. are you sure he cannot prove that false?" selma cross left her seat at the table and took paula in her arms. "how can he?" she whispered. "the old man knew all about us. one of his friends heard charter talking about the easy virtue of stage women--that there were scarcely no exceptions! charter hinted in his article that acting is but refined prostitution. villiers said because i had a name for being square charter had chosen to prove otherwise!... then see how he dropped me--not a word in three years from my memorable lover! and villiers knew about us--first and last!... i could murder that sort--and to think that his devil's gift has been working upon you----" "you have told me quite enough, thank you." paula interrupted in a lifeless voice. "i shall not see him." selma cross held her off at arms' length to glance at her face. "you what?" she exclaimed. "he is on the way to new york and will be at the _granville_ to-morrow afternoon, where he hopes to find a note saying he may call here to-morrow night. there shall be no note from me----" "but did you write to him, paula?" the actress asked strangely excited. "yes--a little after you left me the other morning. it was silly of me. oh, but i did not tell him what i had heard--or who told me!... finish your supper--you must go." "and how did you learn of his coming?" "he telegraphed me to-day. that's why i bothered you at your supper----" "what a dramatic situation--if you decided to see him!" selma cross said intensely. "and to think--that to-morrow is sunday night and i don't work!" paula felt brutalized by the change in the other's manner. "i have decided not to see him," she repeated, and left the apartment. twelfth chapter certain elements for the charter crucible, and his mother's pilgrimage across the sands alone to mecca charter had come a long way very swiftly in his search for realities. if it is required of man, at a certain stage of evolution, to possess a working knowledge of the majority of possible human experiences, in order to choose wisely between good and evil, charter had, indeed, covered much ground in his thirty-three years. as a matter of fact, there were few degrees in the masonry of sensation, into which he had not been initiated. his was the name of a race of wild, sensual, physical types; a name still held high in old-world authority, and identified with men of heavy hunting, heavy dining and drinking. the charters had always been admired for high temper and fair women. true, there was not a germ of the present charter mental capacity in the whole race of such men commonly mated, but quentin's father had married a woman with a marvellous endurance in prayer--that old, dull-looking formula for producing sons of strength. a silent woman, she was, a reverent woman, an angry woman, with the stuff of martyrdoms in her veins. indeed, in her father, john quentin, reformer, there were stirring materials for memory. his it was to ride and preach, to excoriate evil and depict the good, with the blessing of a living god shining bright and directly upon it. a bracing figure, this grandfather quentin, an ethereal bloom at the top of a tough stalk of irish peasantry. first, as a soldier in the british army he was heard of, a stripling with a girl's waist, a pigeon breast, and the soul's divinity breathing itself awake within. his was a poet's rapture at the sight of morning mists, wrestling with the daybreak over the mountains; and everywhere his regiment went, were left behind quentin's songs--crude verses of a minor singer, never seeking permanence more than homer; and everywhere, he set about to correct the degradations of men, absolutely unscared and grandly improvident. a fighter for simple loving-kindness in the heart of man, a worshiper of the bright fragment of truth vouchsafed to his eyes, a lover of children, a man who walked thrillingly with a personal god, and was so glorified and ignited by the spirit that, every day, he strode singing into battle. such was john quentin, and from him, a living part of his own strong soul, sprang the woman who mothered quentin charter, sprang pure from his dreams and meditations, and doubtless with his prayer for a great son, marked in the scroll of her soul.... for to her, bringing a man into the world meant more than a bleak passage of misery begun with passion and ended with pain. her single bearing of fruit was a solitary pilgrimage. from the hour of the conception, she drew apart with her own ideals, held herself aloof from fleshly things, almost as one without a body. charter, the strongly-sexed, her merchant-husband, the laughing, scolding, joking gunner; admirable, even delightful, to nineteenth century men of hot dinners and stimulated nights--showed her all that a man must _not_ be. alone, she crossed the burning sands; cleansed her body and brain in the cool of evenings, expanded her soul with dreams projected far into the glistening purple heavens and whispered the psalms and poems which had fed the lyric hunger of her father. it glorified her temples to brood by an open window upon the night-sky; to conceive even the garment's hem of that inspiring source, to whom solar systems are but a glowworm swarm, and the soul of man mightier than them all. sometimes she carried the concept farther, until it seemed as if her heart must cease to beat: that this perfecting fruit of the universe, the soul of man, must be imprisoned for a time in the womb of woman; that the supreme seemed content with this humble mystery, nor counted not æons spent, nor burnt-out suns, nor wasting myriads that devastate the habitable crusts--if only one smile back at him at last; if only at last, on some chilling planet's rim, one worthy spirit lift his lustrous pinions and ascend out of chaos to the father. the spirit of her own father was nearer to her in this wonderful pilgrimage than her husband, to whom she was cold as etruscan glasses in the deep-delved earth (yet filled with what fiery potential wine!). he called her mistress ice, brought every art, lure, and expression in the charter evolution to bear upon her; yet, farther and farther into heights he could not dream, she fled with her forming babe. many mysteries were cleared for her during this exalted period--though clouded later by the pangs of parturition.... once, in the night, she had awakened with a sound in her room. at first she thought it was her husband, but she heard his breathing from the next chamber. at length before her window, shadowed against the faint light of the sky, appeared the head and shoulders of a man. he was less than ten feet from her, and she heard the rustle of his fingers over the dresser. for an instant she endured a horrible, stifling, feminine fright, but it was superseded at once by a fine assembling of faculties under the control of genuine courage. the words she whispered were quite new to her. "i don't want to have to kill you," she said softly. "put down what you have and go away--hurry." the burglar fled quietly down the front stairs, and she heard the door shut behind him. out of her trembling was soon evolved the consciousness of some great triumph, the nature of which she did not yet know. it was pure ecstasy that the realization brought. the courage which had steadied her through the crisis was not her own, but from the man's soul she bore! there was never any doubt after that, she was to bear a son. there is a rather vital defect in her pursuing the way alone, even though a great transport filled the days and nights. the complete alienation of her husband was a fact. this estranged the boy from his father. except as the sower, the latter had no part in the life-garden of quentin charter. the mother realized in later years that she might have ignored less and explained more. the fear of a lack of sympathy had given her a separateness which her whole married life afterward reflected. she had disdained even the minor feminine prerogative of acting. her husband had a quick, accurate physical brain which, while it could not have accompanied nor supported in her sustained inspiration, might still have comprehended and laughingly admired. instead, she had been as wholly apart from him as a memory. often, in the great weariness of continued contemplation, her spirit had cried out for the sustenance which only a real mate could bring, the gifts of a kindred soul. many times she asked: "where is the undiscovered master of my heart?" there was no one to replenish within her the mighty forces she expended to nurture the spiritual elements of her child. a lover of changeless chivalry might have given her a prophet, instead of a genius, pitifully enmeshed in fleshly complications. in her developed the concept (and the mark of it lived afterward with glowing power in the mind of her son)--the thrilling possibility of a union, in the supreme sense of the word, a union of two to form one.... charter, the boy, inherited a sense of the importance of the "i." in his earlier years all things moved about the ego. by the time of his first letter to paula linster, the world had tested the charter quality, but to judge by the years previous, more specifically by the decade bounded by his twentieth and thirtieth birthdays, it would have appeared that apart from endowing the young man with a fine and large brain-surface, the charter elements had triumphed over the mother's meditations. to a very wise eye, acquainted with the psychic and material aspects of the case, the fact would have become plain that the hot, raw blood of the charters had to be cooled, aged, and refined, before the exalted spirit of the quentins could manifest in this particular instrument. it would have been a very fascinating natural experiment had it not been for the fear that the boy's body would be destroyed instead of refined. his mother's abhorrence for the gross animalism of drink, as she discovered it in her husband (though the tolerant world did not call him a drunkard), was by no means reflected intact in the boy's mind. a vast field of surface-tissue, however, was receptive to the subject. quentin was early interested in the effects of alcohol, and entirely unafraid. he had the perversity to believe that many of his inclinations must be worn-out, instead of controlled. as for his ability to control anything about him, under the pressure of necessity, he had no doubt of this. drink played upon him warmly. his young men and women associates found the stimulated charter an absolutely new order of human enchantment--a young man lit with humor and wisdom, girded with chivalry, and a delight to the emotions. indeed, it was through these that the young man's spirit for a space lost the helm. it was less for his fine physical attractions than for the play of his emotions that his intimates loved him. from his moods emanated what seemed to minds youthful as his own, all that was brave and true and tender. an evening of wine, and charter dwelt in a house of dreams, to which came fine friendships, passionate amours, the truest of verses and the sweetest songs. often he came to dwell in this house, calling it life--and his mother wept her nights away. her husband was long dead, but she felt that something, named charter, was battling formidably for the soul of her boy. she was grateful for his fine physique, grateful that his emotions were more delicately attuned than any of his father's breed, but she had not prayed for these. she knew the ghastly mockeries which later come to haunt these houses of dreams. such was not her promise of fulfilment. she had not crossed the deserts and mountains alone to mecca for a verse-maker--a bit of proud flesh for women to adore.... charter, imperious with his stimulus, wise in his imagined worldliness, thought he laughed away his mother's fears. "i am a clerk of the emotions," he once told her. "to depict them, i must feel them first." and the yellow devil who built for him his house of dreams coarsened his desires as well, and wove a husk, fibrous, warm, and red, about his soul. the old flesh-mother, earth, concentred upon him her subtlest currents of gravity; showed him her women in garments of crushed lilies; promised him her mysteries out of egypt--how he should change the base metal of words into shining gold; sent unto him her flatterers calling him great, years before his time; calling him emotion's own master and action's apostle; and her sirens lured him to the vine-clad cliffs with soft singing that caressed his senses. because his splendid young body was aglow, he called it harmony--this wind wailing from the barrens.... as if harmony could come out of hell. old mother earth with her dead-souled moon--how she paints her devils with glory for the eye of a big-souled boy; painting dawns above her mountains of dirt, and sunsets upon her drowning depths of sea; painting scarlet the lips of insatiable women, and roses in the heart of her devouring wines--always painting! look to burns and byron--who bravely sang her pictures--and sank. there are vital matters of narrative in this decade of charter's between twenty and thirty. elements of the world-old conflict between the animal and the soul are never without human interest; but this is a history of a brighter conquest than any victory over the senses alone.... even restless years of wandering are only suggested. yet one cannot show how far into the heights charter climbed, without lifting for a moment the shadow from the caverns, wherein he finally awoke, and wrestled with demons towards the single point of light--on the rising road. thirteenth chapter "no man can enter into a strong man's house, and spoil, his goods, except he will first bind the strong man" charter had always been able to stop drinking when thoroughly disgusted with its effects, but his final abandonment, three years before the skylark letters, had lasted long--up the yangtse to the gorges, back to shanghai, and around the straits and mediterranean to new york, where he had met selma cross; indeed, for many weeks after he had reached his own city in the mid-west. he had now fallen into the condition in which work was practically impossible. in the early stages, he had known brief but lightning passages of expression, when his hands moved with magical speed upon his machine, and his thoughts even faster, breaking in upon achievement three or four times in a half-hour to snatch his stimulant. always in the midst of this sort of activity, he felt that his work was of the highest character. the swift running of his brain under the whip appeared record-breaking to the low vanity of a sot. it was with shame that he regarded his posted time-card, after such a race. yet he had this to say of the whole work-drink matter: when at his brief best under stimulus, a condition of mind precarious to reach and never to be counted upon, the product balanced well with the ordinary output, the stuff that came in quantities from honest, healthy faculties. in a word, an occasional flashy peak standing forth from a streaky, rime-washed pile reckoned well with the easy levels of highway routine. during his first days at home he would occupy entire forenoons in the endeavor to rouse himself to a pitch of work. not infrequently upon awakening, he swallowed a pint of whiskey in order to retain four or five ounces. toward mid-afternoon, still without having eaten, he would draw up his chair before the type-mill to wait, and only a finished curse would evolve from the burned and stricken surfaces of his brain. if, indeed, passable copy did come at last, charter invariably banished restraint, drinking as frequently as the impulse came. clumsiness of the fingers therefore frequently intervened just as his sluggish mind unfolded; and in the interval of calling his stenographer out of the regular hours, the poor brain babes, still-born, were fit only for burial. often, again (for he could not live decently with himself without working), he would spend the day in fussy preparation for a long, productive evening. the room was at a proper temperature; the buffet admirably stocked; pipes, cigars, and cigarettes at hand; his stenographer in her usual mood of delightful negation--when an irresistible impulse would seize his mind with the necessity of witnessing a certain drama, absolutely essential to inspiration. again, with real work actually begun, his mind would bolt into the domains of correspondence, or some little lyric started a distracting hum far back in his mind. the neglected thing of importance would be lifted from the machine, and the letters or the verses put under weigh. in the case of the latter, he would often start brilliantly with a true subconscious ebullition--and cast the thing aside, never to be finished, at the first hitch in the rhyme or obscurity in thought. then he would find himself apologizing slavishly for asiatic fever to the woman who helped him--whose unspoken pity he sensed, as hardened arteries feel the coming storm. alone, he would give way to furious hatred for himself and his degradation, and by the startling perversity of the drunken, hurry into a stupor to stifle remorse. prospecting thus in the abysses, charter discovered the outcroppings of dastardly little vanities and kindred nastiness which normally he could not have believed to exist in his composite or in the least worthy of his friends. a third trick drink played upon him when he was nicely prepared for a night of work. the summons which he dared not disregard since it came now so irregularly--to dine--would sound imperiously in the midst of the first torture-wrung page, probably for the first time since the night before. in the actual illness, which followed partaking of the most delicate food, work was, of course, out of the question. finally, the horrors closed in upon his nights. the wreck that could not sleep was obsessed with passions, even perversions--how curiously untold are these abominations--until a place where the wreck lay seemed permeated with the foulest conceptions of the dark. what pirates board the unhelmed mind of the drunken to writhe and lust and despoil the alien decks--wingless, crawling abdomens, which, even in the shades, are but the ganglia of appetite!... a brand of realism, this, whose only excuse is that it carries the red lamps of peril. at the end of months of swift and dreadful dissipation, charter determined abruptly to stop his self-poisoning on the morning of his thirtieth birthday. coming to this decision within a week before the date, so confident was he of strength, that instead of making the end easy by graduating the doses in the intervening days, he dropped the bars of conduct altogether, and was put to bed unconscious late in the afternoon of the last. he awoke in the night, and slowly out of physical agony and mental horror came the realization that the hour of fighting-it-out-alone was upon him. he shuddered and tried to sleep, cursed himself for losing consciousness so early in the day without having prepared his mind for the ordeal. suddenly he leaped out of bed, turned on the lights, and found his watch. with a cry of joy, he discovered that it was seven minutes before twelve. in the next seven minutes, he prepared himself largely from a quart bottle, and lay down again as the midnight-bells relayed over the city. ordinarily, sleep would have come to him after such an application in the midst of the night, but the thought assumed dimensions that the bells _had_ struck. he thought of his nights on the big, yellow river in china, and of the nearer nights in new york. there was a vague haunt about the latter--as of something neglected. he thought of the clean boy he had been, and of the scarred mental cripple he must be from now on.... in all its circling, his mind invariably paused at one station--the diminished quart bottle on the buffet. he arose at last, hot with irritation, poured the remaining liquor into the washbasin, and turned on the water to cleanse even the odor away. for a moment he felt easier, as if the man stirred within him. here he laughed at himself low and mockingly--for the man was the whiskey he had drunk in the seven minutes before twelve. now the thought evolved to hasten the work of systemic cleansing, begun with denial. at the same time, he planned that this would occupy his mind until daylight. he prepared a hot tub, drinking hot water at the same time--glass after glass until he was as sensitive within as only a fresh-washed sore can be. internally, the difference between hot and cold water is just the difference between pouring the same upon a greasy plate. the charred flaccid passages in due time were flushed free from its sustaining alcohol; and every exterior pore cratered with hot water and livened to the quick with a rough towel. long before he had finished, the trembling was upon him, and he sweated with fear before the reaction that he had so ruthlessly challenged in washing the spirit from his veins. charter rubbed the steam from the bath-room window, shaded his eyes, and looked for the daylight which was not there. stars still shone clear in the unwhitened distances. why was he so eager for the dawn? it was the drunkard in him--always frightened and restless, even in sleep, _while buffets are closed_. this is so, even though a filled flask cools the fingers that grope under the pillow.... any man who has ever walked the streets during the two great cycles of time between three and five in the morning, waiting for certain sinister doors to open, does not cease to shiver at the memory even in his finer years. it is not the discordant tyranny of nerves, nor the need of the body, pitiful and actual though it is, wherein the terror lies,--but living, walking with the consciousness that the devil is in power; that you are the debauched instrument of his lust, putting away the sweet fragrant dawn for a place of cuspidors, dormant flies, sticky woods, where bleared, saturated messes of human flesh sneak in, even as you, to lick their love and their life.... that you have waited for this moment for hours--oh, god!--while the fair new day comes winging over mountains and lakes, bringing, cleansed from inter-stellar spaces, the purity of lilies, new mysteries of love, the ruddy light of roses and heroic hopes for clean men--that you should hide from this adoring light in a dim place of brutes, a place covered with the psychic stains of lust; that you should run from clean gutters to drink this hell-seepage. he asked himself why he thirsted for light. if every door on his floor were a saloon, he would not have entered the nearest. and yet a summer dawn was due. hours must have passed since midnight. he glanced into the medicine-case before turning off the lights in the bath-room. alcohol was the base in many of the bottles; this thought incited fever in his brain.... he could hardly stand. a well-man would have been weakened by the processes of cleansing he had endured. the blackness, pressing against the outer window, became the form of his great trouble. "i wish the day would come," he said aloud. his voice frightened him. it was like a whimper from an insane ward. he hastened to escape from the place, now hateful. the chill of the hall, as he emerged, struck into his flesh, a polar blast. like an animal he scurried to the bed and crawled under cover, shaking convulsively. his watch ticked upon the bed-post. presently he was burning--as if hot cloths were quickly being renewed upon his flesh. yet instantaneously upon lifting the cover, the chill would seize him again. finally he squirmed his head about until he could see his watch. two-fifteen, it said. manifestly, this was a lie. he had not wound the thing the night before, though its ticking filled the room. he recalled that when he was drinking, frequently he wound his watch a dozen times a day, or quite as frequently forgot it entirely. at all events, it was lying now. thoughts of the whiskey he had poured out, of the drugs in the medicine-case, controlled. he needed a drink, and nothing but alcohol would do. this is the terrible thing. without endangering one's heart, it is impossible to take enough morphine to deaden a whiskey reaction. a little only horrifies one's dreams. there is no bromide. he cried out for the poison he had washed away from his veins. this would have been a crutch for hours. in the normal course of bodily waste, he would not have been brought to this state of need in twenty-four hours. he felt the rapping of old familiar devils against his brain. he needed a drink. the lights were turned on full in his room. the watch hanging above his head ticked incessant lies regarding the energy of passing time. he could lose himself in black gorges of agony, grope his way back to find that the minute hand had scarcely stirred.... he lay perfectly rigid until a wave, half of drowsiness, half of weakness, slowed-down the vibrations of his mind.... somewhere in the underworld, he found a consciousness--a dank smell, the dimness of a cave; the wash of fins gliding in lazy curves across the black, sluggish water; an _eye_, green, steadfast, ashine like phosphor which is concentrated decay,--the eye of rapacity gorged. his nostrils filled with the foreign odor of menageries and aquariums. a brief hiatus now, in which objects altered. a great weight pressed against his chest, not to hurt, but to fill his consciousness with the thought of its cold crushing strength; the weight of a tree-trunk, the chill of stone, the soft texture of slimy flesh.... full against him upon the rock, in his half-submerged cavern, lay the terror of all his obsessions--the crocodile. savage incarnations were shaken out of his soul as he regarded this beast, a terror so great that his throat shut, his spine stiffened. still as a dead tree, the creature pressed against him, bulging stomach, the narrow, yellow-brown head, moveless, raised from the rock. this was the armed abdomen he feared most--cruelty, patience, repletion--and the dirty-white of nether parts!... he heard the scream within him--before it broke from his throat. out of one of these, charter emerged with a cry, wet with sweat as the cavern-floor from which he came--to find that the minute-hand of his watch had not traversed the distance between two roman numerals. he seized the time-piece and flung it across the room, lived an age of regret before it struck the walnut edge of his dresser and crashed to the floor.... the sounds of running-down fitted to words in his brain. "_tick--tick!... tick-tick-tick._" a spring rattled a disordered plaint; then after a silence: "i served you--did my work well--very well--very well!..." charter writhed, wordlessly imploring it to be still. it was not the value, but the sentient complaining of a thing abused. faithful, and he had crushed it. he felt at last in the silence that his heart would stop if it ticked again; and as he waited, staring at it, his mind rushed off to a morning of boyhood and terrible cruelty.... he had been hunting at the edge of a half-cleared bit of timber. a fat gray squirrel raced across the dead leaves, fully sixty yards away--its mate following blithely. the leader gained the home-tree as charter shot, crippling the second--the male. it was a long shot and a very good one, but the boy forgot that. the squirrel tried to climb the tree, but could not. it crawled about, uncoupled, among the roots, and answered the muffled chattering from the hole above--this, as the boy came up, his breast filling with the deadliest shame he had ever known. the squirrel told him all, and answered his mate besides. it was not a chatter for mercy. the little male was cross about it--bewildered, too, for its life-business was so important. the tortured boy dropped the butt of his gun upon the creature's head.... now the tone changed--the flattened head would not die.... he had fled crying from the thing, which haunted him almost to madness. he _begged_ now, as the old thoughts of that hour began to run about in the deep-worn groove of his mind.... andas he had treated the squirrel, the watch--so he was treating his own life.... again he was called to consciousness by some one uttering his name. he answered. the apartment echoed with the flat, unnatural cry of his voice; silence mocking him.... then, in delusion, he would find himself hurrying across the yard, attracted by some psychic terror of warning. finally, as he opened the stable-door, sounds of a panting struggle reached him from the box-stall where he kept his loved saddle-mare. light showed him that she had broken through the flooring, and, frenziedly struggling to get her legs clear from the wreck, had torn the skin and flesh behind, from hoof to hock. he saw the yellow tendons and the gleaming white bone. she was half-up, half-down, the smoky look of torture and accusation in her brown eyes.... finally came back his inexorable memories--one after another, his nights of degraded passion; the memory of brothels, where drunkenness had carried him; songs, words, laughter he had heard; pictures on the walls; combs, cards, cigarettes of the dressing-tables, low ceilings and noisome lamps; that individual something about each woman, and her especial perversion; peregrinations among the lusts of half the world's ports, where a man never gets so low that he cannot fall into a woman's arms. how they had clung to him and begged him to come back! his nostrils filled again with sickening perfumes that never could overpower the burnt odor of harlot's hair. down upon him these horrors poured, until he was driven to the floor from the very foulness of the place wherein he lay, but a chill struck his heart and forced him back into the nest of sensual dreams.... constantly he felt that dry direct need for cigarette inhalation--that nervous craving which makes a man curse viciously at the break of a match or its missing fire--but his heart responded instantly to the mild poisoning, a direct and awful pounding like the effect of cocaine upon the strong, and his sickness was intensified. so he would put the cigarette down, lest the aorta burst within him--only to light the pest again a moment later. he could feel his liver, a hot turgid weight; even, mark its huge boundary upon the surface of his body. back of his teeth, began the burning insatiable passage, collapsing for alcohol in every inch of its coiled length; its tissues forming an articulate appeal in his brain: "you have filled us with burning for weeks and months, until we have come to rely upon the false fire. take this away suddenly now and we must die. we cannot keep you warm, even alive, without more of the fuel which destroyed us. we do not want much--just enough to help us until we rebuild our own energy." and his brain reiterated a warning of its own. "i, too, am charred and helpless. the devils run in and out and over. i have no resistance. i shall open entirely to them--unless you strengthen me with fire. you are doing a very wicked and dangerous thing in stopping short like this. deserted of me, you are destitute, indeed." charter felt his unshaven mouth. it was soft and fallen like an imbecile's. a man in hell does not curse himself. he saw himself giving. he felt that he was giving up life and its every hope, but the fear of madness, or driveling idiocy, was worse than this. he would drink for nerve to kill himself decently. the abject powerlessness of his will was the startling revelation. he had played with his will many times, used it to drink when its automatic action was to refrain. always he had felt it to be unbreakable, until now. he was a yellow, cowering elemental, more hideous and pitiable than prohibition-orator ever depicted in his most dreadful scare-climax. there is no will when nature turns loose her dogs of fear upon a sick and shattered spirit--no more will than in the crisis of pneumonia or typhoid. he wrapped the bed-clothes about him and staggered to the medicine-case. there was no pure alcohol; no wood-alcohol luckily. however, a quart bottle of liver-tonic--turkey rhubarb, gum guaiac, and aloes, steeped in holland gin. a teaspoonful before meals is the dose--for the spring of the year. an old family remedy, this,--one of the bitterest and most potent concoctions ever shaken in a bottle, a gold-brown devil that gagged full-length. the inconceivable organic need for alcohol worked strangely, since charter's stomach retained a half-tumbler of this horrible dosage. possibly, it could not have held straight whiskey at once. internally cleansed, he, of course, responded immediately to the warmth. plans for whiskey instantly awoke in his brain. he touched the button which connected with his man in the stable; then waited by a rear window until the other appeared. "bob," he called down shakily, "have you got any whiskey?" "the half of a half-pint, sir." "bring it up quickly. here--watch close--i'm tossing down my latch-key." the key left his hand badly. he could have embraced bob for finding it in the dark as he did. charter then sat down--still with the bed-clothes wrapped about him--to wait for the other's step. he felt close to death in the silence.... bob poured and held the single drink to his lips. charter sat still, swallowing for a moment. part remained within him. "now, bob," he said, "run across the street to dr. whipple, and tell him i need some whiskey. tell him he needn't come over--unless he wants to. i'm ill, and i've got to get out of here. hurry back." he dared not return to bed now--fear of dreams. to draw on parts of his clothing was an heroic achievement, but he could not bend forward to put on stockings or shoes without overturning his stomach, the lining of which was sore as a festering wound. his nostrils, with their continual suggestions, now tortured him with a certain half-cooked odor of his own inner tissues. the consciousness of having lost his will--that he was thirty years old, and shortly to be drunk again--became the nucleus for every flying storm-cloud in his brain. he knew what it would be now. he would drink regularly, fatten, redden, and betray every remnant of good left within him--more and more distended and brutalized--until his heart stopped or his liver hardened. and the great work? he tried to smile at this. those who had looked for big things from his maturity had chosen a musty vessel. he would write of the loves of the flesh, and of physical instincts--one of the common--with a spark of the old genius now and then to light up the havoc--that he might writhe! yes, he would never get past that--the instantaneous flash of his real self to lift him where he belonged--so he would not forget to suffer--_when he fell back_.... "i'll break that little system," he muttered angrily, as to an enemy in the room, "i'll drink my nerve back and shoot my head off...." but bigger, infinitely more important, than any of these thoughts, was the straining of every sense for bob's step in the hall--bob with the whiskey from his never-failing friend, dr. whipple.... yes, he had chosen whiskey to drive out the god-stuff from his soul. what a dull, cheap beast he was! the day was breaking--a sweet summer morning. he wrapped the bed-clothes closer about him, and lifted the window higher. the nostrils that had brought him so much of squalor and horror now expanded to the new life of the day--vitality that stirred flowers and foliage, grasses and skies to beauty; the blessed morning winds, lit with faint glory. the east was a great, gray butterfly's wing, shot with quivering lines of mauve and gold. it shamed the hulk huddled at the window. bob's foot on the stairs was the price of his brutality. "great mornin' for a ride. beth is fit as a circus. i'd better get her ready, hadn't i, sir?" "god, no!" charter mumbled. "help me on with my boots, and pour out a drink. bring fresh water.... did doctor----" "didn't question me, sir. brought what you wanted, and said he'd drop over to see you to-day." charter held his mouth for the proffered stimulant, and beckoned the other back. "let me sit still for a minute or two. don't joggle about the room, bob." revulsion quieted, the nausea passed. bob finished dressing him, and charter moved abroad. he took the flask with him, lest it be some forgotten holiday and the bars closed. a man who has had such a night as his is slavish for days before the fear of being _without_. he was pitifully weak, but the stimulus had lifted his mind out of the hells of obsession. the morning wind had sweetened the streets. lawns, hedges, vines, and all the greens seemed washed and preened to meet the sun. to one who has hived with demons, there is something so simple and sanative about the restoring night--the rest of healing and health. he could have wept at the virtue of simple goodness--so easy, so vainly sought amid the complications of vanity and desire. well and clearly he saw now that mild good, undemonstrative, unaggressive good--seventy years of bovine plodding, sunning, grazing, drowsing--is a step toward the top. what a travesty is genius when it is arraigned by an august morning; men who summon gods to their thinking, yet fail in the simple lessons that dogs and horses and cats have grasped! all the more foul and bestial are those whom gods have touched within; charged with treason of manhood by every good and perfect thing, when they cannot rise and meet the day with clean hearts. charter would have given all his evolution for the simple decency of his man, bob, or his mare, beth. the crowd of thoughts incensed him, so he hurried.... dengler was sweeping out his bar. screen-doors slammed open, and a volume of dust met the early caller as he was about to enter. dengler didn't drink, and he was properly pleased with the morning. lafe schiel, who was scrubbing cuspidors for dengler, drank. that's why he cleaned cuspidors. dengler greeted his honored patron effusively. "suppose you've been working all night, mr. charter. you look a little roughed and tired. you work while we sleep--eh? that's the way with you writer-fellows. i've got a niece that writes. i told you about her. she's ruined her eyes. she says she can get her best thoughts at night. you're all alike." "have a little touch, lafe?" charter asked, turning to the porter, who wiped his hands on his trousers and stepped forward gratefully. bottles were piled on the bar, still beer-stained from the night before. dengler put forward clean, dripping glasses from below, and stroked the bottle with his palm, giving lafe water, and inquiring of charter what he would have "for a wash...." dengler, so big-necked, healthy, and busy, talking about his breakfast and not corrupting his body with the stuff others paid for; lafe schiel in his last years--nothing but whiskey left--no thought, no compunction, no man, no soul, just a galvanic desire--these three in a tawdry little up-town bar at five in the morning--and he, quentin charter, with a splendid mare to ride, a mother to breakfast with, a world's work to do; he, quentin charter, in this diseased growth upon the world's gutter, in this accumulation of cells which taints all society. charter drank and glanced at the morning paper. the sheet still damp from the press reminded him of the night's toil in the office down-town (a veritable strife of work, while he had grovelled)--copy-makers, copy-readers, compositors, form-makers, and pressmen--he knew many of them--all fine fellows, decently resting now, deservedly resting. and the healthy little boys, cutting their sleep short, to deliver from door to door, even to dengler's, this worthy product for the helpful dollar! ah, god, the world was so sweet and pure in its worthier activities! god only asked that--not genius, just slow-leisured decency would pass with a blessing. god had eternity to build men, and genius which looked out upon a morning like this, from a warm tube of disease, was concentrated waste! charter cleared his throat. thoughts were pressing down upon him too swiftly again. he ordered another drink, and dengler winked protestingly as he turned to call lafe schiel. the look said, "don't buy him another, or i won't get my cuspidors cleaned." so charter felt that he was out of range and alignment everywhere, and the drink betrayed him, as it always does when in power. not even in lafe scheil was the devil surer of his power this day. the whiskey did not brighten, but stimulated thought-terrors upon the subject of his own shattering.... dengler found him interesting--this man so strangely honored by others; by certain others honored above politicians. he wondered now why the other so recklessly plied the whip.... the change that came was inevitable. "there now, old fellow," dengler remonstrated familiarly, "i don't like to turn you down, but you can't--honest, you can't--stand much more." this was at seven-thirty. charter straightened up, laughed, and started to say, "this is the first----" but he reflected that once before this same thing had happened somewhere: he had been deemed too drunk to drink--somewhere before.... he wabbled in the memory, and mumbled something wide to the point of what he had meant to say, and jerked out.... that buttoning of his coat about his throat (on a brilliant summer morning); that walking out swiftly with set jaw and unseeing eyes, was but one of many landmarks to dengler--landmarks on the down-grade. he had seen them all in his twenty years; seen the whole neighborhood change; seen clean boys redden, fatten, and thrive for a time; watched the abyss widen between young married pairs, his own liquors running in the bottom; seen men leave their best with him and take home their beast.... dengler, yes, had seen many things worth telling and remembering. they all owed him at the last.... in some ways, this man, charter, was different. he tried to remember who it was who first brought charter in, and who that party of swell chaps were who, finding charter there one day, had made a sort of hero out of him and tarried for hours.... the beer-man, in his leather apron, entered to spoil this musing. he put up the old square-face bottle, and served for a "chaser" a tall shell of beer.... even beer-men could not last. dengler had seen many who for a year or two "chased" gin with beer at every call. there was schultz, a year ago about this time. he'd been driving a wagon for a couple of years. schultz had made too many stops before he reached dengler's that day. a full half-barrel had crushed him to the pavement just outside the door. "put two halves in the basement, and leave me a dozen cases of pints," dengler ordered. * * * * * charter was met at the door by his mother. she had expected to find him suffering from nerves, but clean. he had always kept his word, and she had waited for this day. she did not need to look at him twice, but put on her bonnet and left the house. she returned within an hour with three of charter's men friends. bob, whom she had left to take care of her son, reported that he had a terrible time. charter, unable to find his six-shooter, had overturned the house and talked of conspiracy and robbery. he had fallen asleep within the last few minutes. strange that the mother had thought to hide the six-shooter.... the men lifted him to a closed carriage. charter was driven to a sanatorium. one of the friends undertook to stay with him for a day or two. charter did not rightly realize where he was until evening. he appeared to take the news very quietly. whiskey was allowed him when it was needed. other patients in various states of convalescence offered assistance in many ways. that night, when the friend finally fell asleep in the chair at the bedside, charter arose softly, went into a hall, _where a light was burning_, and plunged down into the dark--twenty-two brass-covered steps. his head broke the panel of the front door at the foot. his idea was the same which had made him hunt for his six-shooter the morning before. besides the door, he broke his nose, his arm, and covered himself with bruises, but fell short, years yet unnumbered, from his intent. under the care of experts after that, he was watched constantly, and given stimulus at gradually lengthening intervals--until he refused it himself on the seventh day. three weeks later, still, he left the place, a man again, with one hundred and twenty needle punctures in the flesh of his unbroken arm. fourteenth chapter the singing of the skylark ceases abruptly; charter hastens east to find a queer message at _the granville_ charter, three years after the foregoing descent into realism, was confessedly as happy a man as the mid-west held. he accepted his serenity with a full knowledge of its excellence, and according to his present health and habits would not have been excited to find himself still among those present, had the curtain been lifted thirty or forty years away. in the year that followed the sanatorium experience, charter in reality found himself. there were a few months in which work came slowly and was uncertain in quality. in his entire conception, nothing worse could happen than an abatement of mental activity, but he did not writhe, knowing that he richly deserved the perfect punishment. so slowly and deeply did physical care and spiritual awakening restore the forces of mind, however, that he did not realize an expansion of power until his first long work had received critical and popular acclaim, and he could see it, himself, in perspective. so he put off the last and toughest shackle of king fear--the living death. as for drinking, that had beaten him. he had no thought to re-challenge the champion. in learning that he could become abject, a creature of paralyzed will, he had no further curiosity. this much, however, he had required to be shown, and what a tender heart he had ever afterward for the lafe schiels of this world. there were other vivid animals, strong and agile, in his quiver of physical passions, but he discovered that these could not become red and rending without alcohol. such were clubbed into submission accordingly. with alcohol, charter could travel any one of seven sorry routes to the gutter; without it, none. this was his constant source of thankfulness--that he had refined his elements without abating their dynamics. the forces that might have proved so deadly in mastery, furnished a fine vitality under the lash. all was sanative and open about him. charter knew the ultimate dozen of the hundred and forty-four thousand rules for health--and made these his habit. the garret, so often spoken of, was the third-floor of his mother's mansion. since he slept under the sky, his sleeping-room was also a solarium. there was a long, thickly-carpeted hall where he paced and smoked meditatively; a trophy-room and his study and library. through books and lands, he had travelled as few men of his years, and always with an exploring mind. in far countries, his was an eye of quick familiarity; always he had been intensely a part of his present environ, whether typee or tibet. then, the god-taught philosophers of asia and europe, and our own rousing young continent, were the well-beloved of his brain, so that he saw many things with eyes lit by their prophecies. as for money, he was wealthy, as channing commends, rather than rich, and for this competence of late, he had made not a single concession, or subverted the least of his ideals, selling only the best of his thoughts, the expression of which polished the product and increased the capacity. he fitted nothing to the fancied needs of marketing. his mother began truly to live now, and her external nature manifested below in fine grains and finished services. between the two, the old charter formalities were observed. she was royal steel--this white-haired mother--and a cottage would have become baronial about her. where she was, there lived order and silence and poise. after this enumeration of felicitous details, one will conclude that this has to deal with a selfish man; yet his gruelling punishments must not be forgotten, nor the quentin spirit. it is true that he had emerged miraculously unhurt from many dark explorations; but his appreciation of the innate treachery and perversion of events was sound and keen. by no means did he challenge any complication which might strip him to quivering nakedness again. rather his whole life breathed gratitude for the goodly days as they came, and glided into untormented nights. next in importance to the discovery that his will could be beaten was this which the drinking temperament so hesitatingly grants--that there are thrilling hearts, brilliant minds, memorable conversations, and lovely impulses among men and women who will not tarry long over the wine. simple as this seems, it was hard for a charter to learn.... as he contemplated the full promise of his maturity, the thought often came--indeed, he expressed it in one of the skylark letters--that this was but a period of rest and healing in which he was storing power for sterner and more subtle trials. such is an intimation of the mental and moral state of quentin charter in his thirty-fourth year, when he began to open the skylark letters with more than curiosity.... he knew reifferscheid, and admired him with the familiar enthusiasm of one who has read the editor's work intermittently for years. charter, of course, was delighted with the review of his second book. it did not occur to him that it could have been written by other than the editor himself. reifferscheid's reply to charter's letter of thanks for the critique proved the key to the whole matter, since it gave the westerner both focus and dimension for his visioning. i haven't read your book yet, old friend, but i'm going to shortly. your fine letter has been turned over to miss paula linster, a young woman who has been doing some reviews for me, of late; some of the most important, in which lot your book, of course, fell. the review which pleased you is only one of a hundred that has pleased me. miss linster is the last word--for fineness of mind. incidentally, she is an illumination to look at, and i haven't the slightest doubt but that she sings and paints and plays quite as well as she writes book notices. if she liked a work of mine as well as she likes yours, i should start on a year's tramp, careless of returns from states yet to be heard from. the point that interests me is that you could do a great book about women, away off there in the provinces--_and without knowing her_. you may wonder at this ebullition. truth is, i'm backing down, firmly, forcefully, an inclination to do an essay on the subject. this is the first chance i ever had to express matters which have come forth from the miraculous in the past year. all that she does has the ultimate feminine touch,--but i'll stop before i get my sleeves up again about this new order of being. perhaps you deserve to know miss linster. you'd never be the same afterwards, so i'm not so sure whether i'd better negotiate it or not. i'm glad to see your book has left the post so perfectly. always come to see me when in town. yours solid, reifferscheid. and so she became the skylark to quentin charter, because she was lost in the heights over by the seaboard, and only her singing came out of the blue.... there were fine feminine flashes in the letters charter received, rare exquisite matters which can be given to the world, only through the one who inspires their warm delicacy and charm. the circuit was complete, and the voltage grew mightier and mightier. there was a royal fall night, in which charter's work came ill, because thoughts of her monopolized. life seemed warm and splendid within him. he turned off the electric bulb above his head, and the moonlight burst in--a hunting moon, full and red as mars. there was thrilling glory in the purple south, and a sense of the ineffable majesty of stellar management. he banished the night panorama with the electric button again, and wrote to the skylark. this particular letter proved the kind which annihilates all sense of separateness, save the animal heaviness of miles, and makes this last, extra carking and pitiless for the time. it may have been that charter would have hesitated to send this letter, had he read it over again in the cool of morning, but it happened that he yearned for a walk that night--and passed a mail-box, while the witchery of the night still enchanted. he felt dry, a bit burned the next morning, and saddled for a couple of hours, transferring the slight strain of nerves to his muscles. there was a note from the skylark. she had found an old picture of his in a magazine and commented on it deliciously.... "i wonder if you think of me as i am--plain, _plain_?" she had asked.... no, he did not. nor was it reifferscheid's words to the contrary that prevented him. it is not in man to correlate plainness with a mystic attraction. she had never appeared to him as beautiful exactly, but fine, vivid, electric--a manifestation of eyes, lips, mind. all the poundage part of a human being was utterly vague in his concept of the skylark.... charter naturally lost his perspective and penetration in dealing with his own interlacing emotions. the present letter thralled him. it was blithe in intent, but intuitively deep and keen. in a former letter, he had asked if there were not a strain of irish in her lineage, so mercurial did her temperament play in all that she wrote. "no irish," she had answered. "dutch--straight dutch. always new york--always dutch. i praise providence for this 'monkey-wrench to hang upon my safety valve.'" the "red moon" letter seemed to have caught her on the wing--at her highest and happiest--for she answered it in fine faith and lightness. though it had carried her up and up; and though the singing came back from golden azure, yet she had not forgotten her humor. there was a suggestion of world-wisdom here, or was it world-wear? for hours at a time, charter was now stripped of his capacity for work. this is fine torment. mostly there was a sheet in his type-mill, but his fingers only fluttered the space-bar. let him begin a letter to the skylark, however, and inspiration came, indeed. his thoughts marshalled like a perfect army then, and passed out from under his hand in flashing review.... he ate little, slept little, but his vitality was prodigious. a miracle matured in his breast. had he not been more than usually stubborn, he would have granted long before, that he loved a woman for the first time in his life--and this a woman he had never seen. by new year's there was no dissembling. no day passed now in which he did not battle down an impulse to take a train for new york. this was real living. the destiny which had ruled him through so many dark wanderings, had waited until his soul was roused to dominance, before he was permitted to enter earth's true treasury. it was now that he remembered his past, and many a mile and many an hour he paced the dim hall--wrestling to be clean of it. this was a soul which called. he did not dare to answer while a vestige of the old taints lingered.... he was seldom troubled that she might prove less inspiring than he pictured. he staked every reliance in that he had lived thirty-three years and encountered nothing comparable with this before. passions, fascinations, infatuations, were long put behind; these were classed now in his mind beneath decent and frictionless partnerships between men and women. the vision which inspired his romantic loneliness was all that reifferscheid had suggested, and infinitely more which his own dreamings had supplied. she was an adult frankly challenged by the mysteries of creation; often shocked by its revelations, never above pity nor beneath humor, wonderful in her reality of culture, and wise above men with a woman's divination. but particularly, her ultimate meaning was for _him_; his quest, she was; his crown, to be. the world had preserved her singing, until he was ready; and though singing, she must ever feel the poverty of unfulfilment in her own breast, until he came. this was the stately form of the whole enchantment. that there existed in creation a _completing_ feminine for all his lonely and divided forces; that there lived one woman who could evenly ignite his body, brain, and spirit; that there was hidden in the splendid plan of things, a union of two to form one; all this which had been drifting star-stuff before, became sparks now for new and terrific energies of mind; energies, however, which could be trained and directed only in her presence. man cannot live altogether in the altitudes. there were brief periods wherein charter remembered the mad, drink-tainted trifler with lyrics and women. it had been a past, surely, filled with soul-murdering illusions. those who had known him then, would have had to see him now to find faith. there had been letters about his recent books from men and women who had known him in the darker, less-spacious days. failing to adjust this new and lusty spirit with the man they had known, they had tried to bring a laugh from him and answers to futile questions. charter could not forget that there come to the desk of a review-editor many personal notices concerning one whose work is being talked about. indeed, such are handled as a matter of routine. the skylark could not be expected always to wing aloof from these. all that was vague and indefinite did not matter; such might even be accounted as admirable specializations in life, but his acquaintance had been prodigious, and many clippings came home to him which he was not pleased to read.... still, in the main, he relied upon paula's solid sense of justice; and every fresh letter lifted him higher and higher. in his own letters, he did not fail to incorporate a buffer against indefinite revelations. moreover, he had never ceased to call it wonderful--this capacity, of even the purest women, to lock the doors against the ugliest generalities of a man's past, and to reckon only with specific instances. it is here that the mother looks out through the eyes of a maid. one april morning, he encountered a depression more formidable in vitality than ever before. beth had just had her shoes set, and charter tried to ride off the blue devil. he steadied his mount out of town, until she struck the ringing country road. the instant she felt her calks bite into the frosty turf, the mare flirted her head, took the bit, and became a veritable glowing battery of beautiful energy. twelve miles he gave her, but the blue devil rode equally well and sat down again with charter in his study. it was like a desert-island loneliness, this which beset him, as if his ship were sinking into the horizon; only it was a more poignant than physical agony--a sense of spiritual isolation. this study had become to him the place of his dearest revelations of life. here, of late especially, he had found refuge from every discord, and here invariably were opened the letters from the skylark. the place of a man's work becomes a grand, quiet solace as he grows older, but calm and poise were wrested from the room to-day. he fought the depression with every trained faculty, but was whipped by it. color and sunlight were gone from within; the zeal from future work, the warmth from every promise, the changing lustre from words, and the excellent energy of thought which impels their weaving. twilight in mid-afternoon. he turned on the lights impatiently. meaning and beauty were bereft from all his possessions, as buoyancy was gone from his own breast. there was something pitifully boyish in the trophies he had treasured--so much of the college cub, and the youth who refuses to permit his travels to be forgotten. he regarded his past work, as one grown out of it, regretting that it had ever attracted the materials of permanence. smugness in his teachings; cold intellectuality brazen in all his attainments; everything about him suddenly become sinister from the old life!... he looked into the east--his country of singing, of roses, cedars, and fountains--but the gray-black twilight was a damnable intervention.... it was in this spirit, or lack of it, that he wrote the letter which revealed to paula his inner responsiveness, as she was tossed in the high tide. the letter which she had written almost at the same time, reached him on the second morning thereafter; and his suffering in the interval he could only liken to one of the old sieges of reaction after dissipation. the fine, angular writing, which he never regarded without a sense of the darting swiftness of her hand; the thin, tough sheets that crinkled, came like bounty to the starving; yet he was deathly afraid. something of the long ago has just come to me--to my very rooms. it would not have been believed, had i sought it. i might have endured it, if _you_ had told me. it is dreadful to play with illusions. oh, why must we keep our gods so far away--lest we lose them? had i waited longer, i could not have written. it seems now that you have a right to know--before my pride dries up all expression. you are not to blame--except that you were very reckless in adding happinesses one upon the other. it was all quite ridiculous. i trusted my intuition--allowed myself to think of a table spread in the wilderness of the world with you. my intuitions! i used to be so proud of them. i see now that sometimes they're quite as fallible as plain thinking, after all. i always felt you alone. i seemed to know your voice after centuries. yes, i am sure it was that which affected me so deeply in your work and made me answer your letters with such faith. _i knew your voice._ i thought of you alone--your spirit hungry.... it makes one feel so common, when one's intuitions betray this way. the heart for writing further is cold and heavy. once, down the wind, came a fragrant pollen, but the blowing summer is gone from my garden.... no signature. she had not penned a skylark with a folded or broken wing. charter sat thinking for several moments, but only because he knew there was ample time to catch the noon-train for new york. that he should do this had formed in mind before he had read five lines of the letter. this thought of action steadied him; and the proof that he had sensed her agony and reflected it throughout the past forty-eight hours made the call of the east instant and irresistible. it did not come to him at first that he was now entering the greater conflict, for which nature had trained him in tranquillity and fed his soul unto replenishment during three years.... his first quick thought came out of old habits of mind: _an hour with her, and her heart will be healed!_ here was the old trifler. he suffered for this instant faltering of the brighter manhood. man's fineness is not accentuated by the fact that a woman sacrifices her power within him, when she falls to pleading a little. charter could have torn out the old mental fibres upon which played the thought of her swiftly renewed happiness by his presence. the reality of her suffering slowly penetrated his mind. he perceived that she could not express the actuality; that her thoughts had winged ineffectually about the immovable disorder--like bees over the clumsy corpse of a rodent in the hive. it was not to be lifted, and the inspiration hermetically to seal the monster and resume activities as well as possible, had not yet come.... "i might have endured it, if _you_ had told me!" he wasted no energy trying to think exactly what had happened. it was all he could bear to grasp the full meaning that this inspiring creature who had soared and sung so long, was crushed and cold. every sentence in her letter revealed the bruise of her heart, the absence of spontaneity.... she was as different from other women he had known--the women who had been healed by his word or his caress--as he was different in this attraction. he telegraphed that he was coming, begged that she would see him the following evening, and instructed her to leave word for him at the _granville_. then he packed his bag and told his mother. she laughed quietly. "on the spur of the moment as usual, quentin.... it will be good for you. you've been home a long time. are you going--beyond new york?" "i haven't a thought now of going farther, mother," he answered.... again twilight in mid-afternoon--as he crossed the river from jersey. it had been a day and night to age the soul--with its inexorable stretch of material miles. new york had a different look, a different atmosphere, than ever before. huge and full of horrible grinding; sick with work and sick with damp--but above this, the magic of her presence was over all. it was only four in the afternoon, and he had not asked to see her until seven. might she not have watched for him or be near him now? she would know him from his pictures, and observe him as a stranger, but he had only his visions. on the cross-town to the _granville_, emotions played upon him of a kind that he could not have understood in another man a few months before. moreover, he felt himself giving way before the vibrations of the big city. harried and shrunken, he was, like a youth from the fields; and the voice he had raised so valiantly from afar against this tremendous massed soul, seemed now but the clamor of a boy in the safety of his own door. to and fro along his inflamed nerves crept the direct need of a drink and a cigarette--old wolves forever on the watch for the spent and the wounded.... actually terrorized, he was, at the thought she might not see him; that there might be no note for him at the _granville_. what a voyage in the dark. for the time, his excellent moral balance had deserted shamelessly. an adequate perception of his own position and attitude in the eyes of high womanhood had unhelmed him, quite properly. nature had finally found a hot retort which just fitted his case--and in he went.... no purely physical ardor could have called quentin charter out of his study and far across the continent. lesser loves than this have plunged nations into war, and broken the main trend of history into pregnant digressions. the more penetratingly one regards the man in his present consuming, the more formidable becomes the conviction that the human cosmos in the beginning was cleft in twain: one to grope to the light, a male; the other to suffer the way, her burden, the curse of eve. when these mates of fire fulfil their divided destinies and sweep into the zone of mutual attraction, woe to the satellites and asteroids in the inevitable cataclysm which follows.... yet it is out of such solar throes that gods and prophets are born.... he gave his bag to a boy at the _granville_ entrance, and stepped forward to the desk, clearing his throat and repeating his question.... the clerk rushed through the letters in "c." "no, mr. charter,--not a letter, but wait just a moment; there was a telephone-call." a chill had swept through him as the man spoke. it had not occurred to him that the word would come in other than her handwriting. this was an unsigned note, written by the telephone-girl: mr. quentin charter: a lady who says you will understand, 'phoned that she will be home at seven to-night--if you think it wise and kind to come to her. the message was dated at two p. m. both chill and burning were in the words. it was strangely unlike her; yet in passing through the operator's mind, it might have become routine. the word "kind" was a torturing curb. it placed him on ugly quaking ground. how weak, how ancient and commonplace, is the human lord after all, when in doubt regarding his lady's reception of him! where is his valor now, his taking of cities, his smiling deaths for honor? most of all times, he is man, the male; not man, the soul. half-way out on the surface-car, he discovered one of the big "selma cross" bill-boards. it was intimate, startling, an evil omen--great black letters out of the deathless past.... he stood on the fourth floor of the _zoroaster_. the elevator-man had shown him a certain door which was slightly ajar. he was ill, breathless, and his heart sank strangely with the lights in the shaft from the descending car.... he tapped on the designated door, and a deep melodious voice, instantly identified with ancient abandonments, called gently: "come in!" fifteenth chapter quentin charter and selma cross join issue on a new battle-ground, each leaving the field with open wounds charter was seized with vertigo. it was his sorry thought that the old scar-tissues, however bravely they sufficed in the days of easy-going, could not endure a crux like this. but he was wrong. it was the shock to his spirit, which made of selma cross a giantess of vague outlines in a room filled with swimming objects. need for the woman of his visions had culminated in the outer hall. in the substitution there was an inner wrench, which to one of charter's intense concentration was like a stroke; and then, too, the horrible outburst of energy in adjusting the skylark spirit to the eminent flesh of this old plaything of his, left him drained. he steadied himself into the music-room, and sank into a deep chair, where his heart pumped furiously, but light and empty, as if it could not grip the blood locked in his veins. he sat in a sort of trance, glimpses of many thoughts running through his brain. he deserved punishment. that was all very well, but something was wrong here. the premonition became a reality in his consciousness that he had entered upon a great desert; that he was to endure again one of his terrible thirsts; not a throat-thirst alone, but a soul-thirst. in the atmosphere of the woman, in the very odor of the room, he felt the old impassioned lyric-maker crush back into the dominance of his mind with all the impish exultation of that lower self. pride asserted itself now. what an idiot passage in the career of a rising writer! he should always remember with shame this coming to new york--a youthful marius in whose veins was injected mid-summer madness--coming to this city (where dollar-work is king and plumaged-woman queen) with an abortive conception from garret dreams.... a strong white light fell upon the leather cover of her reading-table, but their faces were in shadow, like the hundred actor faces in photograph upon the wall and mantel. selma cross was studying him keenly. the emptiness of it all was so pervading--as his blood began to move again--that he laughed aloud. "do you know," selma cross said softly, "i thought at first you had been drinking too much. i hardly knew you otherwise, remember. shall i tell you what added thought came to me, as you crossed the floor so unsteadily--looking so white?" "locomotor ataxia, i suppose. i hear it is getting quite the thing for middle-generation new yorkers.... i expected to see you a little later in your new play, but not here--to-night----" "that is what i thought--that incurable thing. you seem floored. i didn't know a woman could do that. in the old days, you were adaptable--if nothing else." his collar felt tight, and he stretched it out, needing more air in his lungs and more blood in his brain. it was clear enough to him now how skylark had been stricken. the real devastation was that she belonged to this sort of thing at all; that she could consent to this trick, this trap. it was all so different from the consummate fineness, the pervading delicacy, of all skylark thoughts. having consented to the trick, _might she not be listening_?... he did not mind her hearing; indeed, he might say things which were needful for her to know--but that she should listen! he writhed. this was not his skylark at all.... it was hardly charter's way now to plunge into the centre of things. there was a feline elegance in the manner and movement of selma cross; she seemed so delightfully at ease, that he was willing to make it a bit harder for her. "i suppose i was more adaptable formerly," he said slowly. "it is something, however, suddenly to encounter an old friend who has made good so fearfully and tremendously in the past week. of course, i had read all about it. still, i repeat it was an experience to encounter your stardom actually on the boards; and more of an experience to find you here. i'm really very glad that you secured the one great vehicle. as for your work--few know its quality better than i." she studied him long, her eyes glowing behind the narrowed lids. "as for that, you've been biting the flaky top-crust, too," she said finally. "i never doubted what you could do in your game, but i confess i feared that whiskey would beat you to it.... do you know you are wonderfully changed--so white, so lean? your work has come to me since you went away; what else have you been doing?--i mean, to change you so finely." "garret." her brow clouded at the word. it was as if she had expected to laugh at him long before this. "did any woman ever tell you that you're rather a mean sort, quentin charter?" "doubtless i have deserved it," he answered. "what are you thinking?" "i was thinking of your garret--where you gather your victims for vivisection." "that's put very clearly." "do you think this is big-man stuff?" "my case is rather an ugly one to look back upon, truly," charter granted. "for a long time, it appeared to me that i must learn things at first-hand. with first-water talents, perhaps this is not necessary." "a woman finally brings a man face to face," she said with sudden scorn, "and he becomes limp, agrees with everything she says.... 'yes, it is quite true, i was an awful beast. what else, dear?'--ugh!" charter smiled. she was very swift and deft in supplying a man's evil motives. it is a terrible feminine misfortune--this gift of imputing--and happy women do not possess it. few men, incidentally, are deep enough to avail themselves of all the crafts and cunnings with which they may be accredited. "i have no intention of destroying the slightest gratification you may draw, selma, from questioning me," he said. "if i appear limp, please remember that i'm a bit in the dark as yet. i came to this floor on a different errand. i had this errand in mind--not self-examination. however, i'll attend now in all sincerity. you were speaking of my victims for vivisection in the garret." she appeared not to trust him in the least. "i've always wanted to know if you believed--what an apprentice i really was in love--give-and-take--when you came?" "that was easily believed, selma----" "then you grant i wasn't acting--when i gave myself to you?" "i didn't think you were acting----" "then _you_ were acting, because when the time came--you dropped me quite as easily as you would drop a street-cur you had been pleased to feed." "just there you are a bit in error. i was furiously interested, and certainly not acting altogether, until----" "enter--the wine," she said with a sneer. "yes, if you will." he was irritated for a second, having meant to say something entirely different. "a woman so loves to hear that a man's passion for her depends upon his drinking!" "i have always been very fond of and grateful to you. it was the whole life that the drinking carried me into--that i had such horror for when, when i became well." "you got well very suddenly after you left me," she told him. her huge face was livid, and her lips dry. "on the contrary, i was a long time ill." her temper chilled his attempts at sincerity. "it looked so from those first few--letters, is rather a dignified word." "i say it with shame, i was practically unable to write. i was burnt out when i left here. i had been to asia--gone from home seven months--and the returning fool permitted the bars to welcome him----" "you seized a moment to dictate a letter----" "silence would have been far better," he said. "i see that now. my only idea was to let you hear. writing myself was out of the question by that time." "you wrote an article about stage people--with all the loftiness of an anæmic priest." "that was written before i left here--written and delivered----" "all the worse, that you could write such an article--while you were spending so much time with me." "i have never belittled what you gave me, selma. i could praise you, without admiring the stage. you are amazingly different. i think that's why new york is talking about you to-night. i had made many trips to new york and knew many stage people, before i met you. if you had belonged to the type familiar to me, i should have needed a stronger stimulus than drink to force an interest. had there been others like you--had i even encountered 'five holy ones in the city'--i should not have written that stage article, or others before it." "you were one with the broadway glowworms, quentin charter. few of them drank so steadily as you." "i have already told you that for a long time i was an unutterable fool. until three years ago, i did not begin to know--the breath of life." selma cross arose and paced the room, stretching out her great arms from time to time as she walked. "you're getting back your glibness," she exclaimed, "your quick little sentences which fit in so nicely! ah, i know them well, as other women are learning them. but i have things which you cannot answer so easily--you of the garret penances.... you find a starved woman of thirty--play with her for a fortnight, showing her everything that she can desire, and seeming to have no thought, but of her. i discover that there was not a moment in which you were so ardent that you forgot to be an analyst. i forgive that, as you might forgive things in my day's work. you put on your gray garret-garb, and forget the hearts of my people, to uncover their weaknesses before the world--you, so recently one of us, and none more drunk or drained with the dawn--than you! such preaching is not good to the nostrils, but i forgive that. you are sick, and even the drink won't warm you, so you leave me at a moment's notice----" "there was another reason." "hear me out, first," she commanded.... "to you, it is just, 'adios, my dear'; to me, it is an uprooting--oh, i don't mind telling you. i was overturned in that furrow, left naked for the long burning day, but i remembered my work--the work you despise! i, who had reason to know how noble your pen can be, forgave even those first paltry letters, filled with excuses such as a cheap clerk might write. i forgave the dictation, because it said you were ill--forgave the silences.... but when you came to new york six months afterwards, and did not so much as 'phone or send me a card of greeting--selma called in her silly tears." "it was vile ingratitude," he said earnestly. "that's where my big fault lay. i wonder if you would try to understand the only palliation. you were strangely generous and wonderful in your ways. i did not cease to think of that. personally, you are far above the things i came to abhor. no one understands but the victim, what alcohol does to a man when it gets him down. i tried to kill myself. i became convalescent literally by force. slowly approaching the normal again, i was glad enough to live, but the horrors never leave the mind entirely. everything connected with the old life filled me with shuddering fear. i tell you no one hates alcohol like a drunkard fresh in his reform." "but i did not make you drink," she said impatiently. "i'm not a drink-loving woman." charter's face flushed. the interview was becoming a farce. it had been agony for him to make this confession. she would not see that he realized his ingratitude; that it was his derangement caused by indulging low propensities which made him identify her with the days of evil. "i know that very well, selma cross," he said wearily, "but the stage is a part of that old life, that sick night-life that runs eternally around the belt-line." she hated him for reverting to this point. holding fast to what she still had to say, the actress picked up a broken thread. "you said there was another reason why you left new york so suddenly." charter expected now to learn if any one were listening. he was cold with the thought of the interview being weighed in the balances of a third mind. "you've made a big point of my going away," he essayed. "the other reason is not a pretty matter, and doubtless you will call any repugnance of mine an affectation----" "repugnance--what do you mean?" she asked savagely, yet she was afraid, afraid of his cool tongue. "i never lied to you." "that may be true. i'm not curious for evidence to the contrary. the day before i left for the west, a friend told me that you and i were being watched; that all our movements were known. i didn't believe it; could not see the sense--until it was proved that same night by the devious walk we took.... you doubtless remember the face of that young night-bird whom we once laughed about. we thought it just one of those coincidences which frequently occur--a certain face bobbing up everywhere for a number of days. i assured myself that night that you knew nothing of this remarkable outside interest in our affairs." selma cross, with swift stealth, disappeared into the apartment-hall and closed the outer door; then returned, facing him. her yellow eyes were wide open, filled with a misty, tortured look. to charter the place and the woman had become haggard with emptiness. he missed the occasional click of the elevator in the outer-hall, for it had seemed to keep him in touch with the world's activities. the old carnal magnetism of selma cross stirred not a tissue in him now; the odor of her garments which once roused him, was forbidding. he had not the strength to believe that the door had been shut for any other reason than to prevent skylark from hearing. the actress had not minded how their voices carried, so long as _he_ was being arraigned.... the air was devitalized. it was as if they were dying of heart-break--without a sound.... it had been so wonderful--this thought of finding his mate after the æons, his completion--a woman beautiful with soul-age and spiritual light.... selma cross was speaking. charter stirred from his great trouble. she was changed, no longer the clever mistress of a dramatic hour.... each was so burdened with a personal tragedy that pity for the other was slow to warm between them. "do you mean that old villiers paid the night-bird to watch us--to learn where we went, and possibly what we said?" she was saying hoarsely. selma cross felt already that her cad was exploded. "yes, and that was unpleasant," charter told her. "i didn't like the feel of that procurer's eyes, but what revolted me was villiers himself. i took pains to learn his name the next day--that last day. there isn't a more unclean human package in new york.... it was so unlike you. i couldn't adjust the two. i couldn't be where he had been. i was sick with my own degradation. i went back to my garret." selma cross was crippled; she saw there was no lie in this. at what a price had been bought the restoration of faith for paula linster!... she had heard after their compact about villiers' early days. there had been times when her fingers itched to tighten upon his scrawny throat. to have quentin charter hear this record was fire in her veins; it embraced the added horror that stephen cabot might also hear.... there was nothing further with which to charge the man before her. she nursed her wrath to keep from crying out. "was it a man's way to give me no chance to explain?" she demanded. "broadway knew villiers." "i did not!" "anyway, i couldn't get it straight in my mind, then," charter said hastily. "you're no vulgar woman, mad after colors and dollars. you love your work too much to be one of those insatiable deserts of passion. nor are you a creature of black evolution who prefers the soul, to the body of man, for a plaything.... you were all that was generous and normally fervent with me.... let's cut the subject. it does not excuse me for not calling when i came to new york. you were nothing if not good to me." "then villiers paid to find out things about us," she said slowly. "he said you bragged about such matters to your friends." charter shivered. "i fail to see how you troubled about a man not writing--if you could believe that about him." "i didn't see how he could know our places of meeting--any other way. i should never have seen him again, if he hadn't made me believe this of you." charter scarcely heard her. the thought was inevitable now that the actress might have represented him to skylark as one with the loathed habit of talking about women to his friends. the quick inclination to inquire could not overcome his distaste for mentioning a dear name in this room. the radiant, flashing spirit behind the letters did not belong here.... his brain ached with emptiness; he wondered continually how he could ever fill the spaces expanded by the skylark's singing.... in the brain of selma cross a furious struggle was joined. never before had she been given to see so clearly her own limitations--and this in the high light of her great dramatic triumph. her womanhood contained that mighty quality of worshiping intellect. this, she had loved in charter long ago; in stephen cabot now. the inner key to her greatness was her capacity to forget the animal in man--if he proved a brain. there is only one higher reverence--that of forgetting brain to worship soul. perceiving the attitude of quentin charter to her old life, it was made clear to her that she must preserve a lie in her relation with stephen cabot; if, indeed, the playwright did not learn outside, as charter had done. it was plain that he did not know yet, since he had not run from her--to a garret somewhere. what a hideous mockery was this night--begun in pride! distantly she was grateful that paula linster was at hand to be restored, but her own mind was whipped and cowed by its thoughts--so there was little energy for another's romance.... charter had made no comment on her last remark. she realized now that his thoughts were bearing him close to the truth. "you say they forced you to cast out your enemy," she declared hoarsely. "i cast out mine of my own accord. if there is palliation for you, there should be for a woman in her first experience. you asked me to stretch my imagination about a drink-reaction making you avoid me. i ask you, how is a woman, for the first time alone with a man--to know that he is different from other men? add to this, a woman who has come up from the dregs--for years in the midst of the slum-blooms of the chorus? what i heard from them of their nights--would have taxed the versatility of even villiers--to make me see him lower than i expected! i ask you--how did i know he was an exception--rather than the rule among the glowworms?" "i'm rather glad you said that," charter declared quickly. "it's a point of view i'm grateful for. do you wonder that the life from which you have risen to one of the regnant queens has become inseparable in my mind with shuddering aversion?" in the extremity of her suffering, her mind had reverted, as an artist's always does when desperately pressed, to thoughts of work--work, the healer, the refuge where devils truly are cast out. even in her work she now encountered the lash, since charter despised it. literally, she was at bay before him. "always that!" she cried. "it is detestable in you always to blame my work. i broke training. i should have won without the damned angel. you degraded yourself for years in your work, but i don't hear you blaming art for your debaucheries! you have sat alone so long that you think all men outside are foul. you sit high in your attic, so that all men look like bugs below!" "there is something in what you say," he answered, aroused by her bigness and strength. "yet in my garret, i do not deal with rootless abstractions. everything has its foundation in actual observation. i moved long among the play-managers, and found them men of huckster-minds--brainless money-bags, dependent upon every passing wind of criticism. i tell you, when one talked to them or to their office-apes--one felt himself, his inner-self, rushing forth as if to fill something bottomless----" "you do not know vhruebert----" "eliminate him. i am not speaking of any particular man. i do not mean all playwrights when i say that i found playwrights as a class, not literary workers--but literary tricksters. i am not speaking of _the thing_, nor of its author, of whom i have heard excellent word--when i say that plays are not written, but rewritten by elementals, who, through their sheer coarseness, sense the slow vibrations of the mob, and feculate the original lines to suit." "bah--an idea from one of your nights, when you tried to drown the blue devils! it broods over all your thinking! you forget the great army, that silent army, which is continually lifting itself artistically by writing one after another--impossible plays. you forget the great hearts of the players--men and women who pull together for big results." "i am not speaking of the vast library of manuscript failures, but of a small proportion which get into the sinister glare of broadway----" "my god, broadway is not new york!" "for which i am powerfully glad," he answered with energy. "as for warm human hearts--there is warmth and loyalty, genuine tears and decent hopes in every brothel and bar--yet the black trends of their existence course on. this was so hard for me to learn, that i have it very clearly.... i remember the opening night of martha boardman as a star--telegrams pouring in, critics besieging her dressing-room. even her manager didn't know what he had, until the critics told him the play would stay in new york a year--yet his name was on the boards above the star and bigger than the author's. i watched the bleak, painted faces of the women and heard their false voices acclaiming the new star. what they had in their hearts was not praise, but envy. their words were sham, indecency and lying. eternally simulating--that's the stage life. pity the women--poor maachas, if you will--but their work is damnable, nevertheless. it is from such unhappy creatures evading motherhood that youths get the abominable notion that real manhood lies in the loins." "poor youths--go on! when you have finished i shall tell you something." "don't misunderstand me, selma cross. no one knows better than i--how the sexes prey upon each other--how they drag each other to the ground. only i was thinking of the poor things in ties, canes, cigarettes and coatings--out catching!... i saw the whole horrid, empty game of the stage. you have come wonderfully and differently into the glare, but let me ask where is martha boardman to-night--a few short years later?" "yes, she was tired, her energy burned out, when she finally arrived. it's a stiff grade," selma cross said gently. "i would explain it, that she was prostituted from _excessive simulation_--season after season of simulation--emotion after emotion false to herself! the law says, 'live your own life.' the stage says, 'act mine,'--so pitiably often a poor playwright's abortive sensations! what can happen to a body that continually makes of itself a lying instrument? like the queen-bee whose whole life is made up of egg-laying--the brain of this poor purveyor of emotions becomes a waxy pulp. as for her soul--it is in god's hands--let us hope." "it is good to laugh at you, quentin charter. you have another appetite. you wanted alcohol when i knew you first--now you thirst after purists and winged women. i have a lover now who can live among men, soar just as high as you do, work with just as much greatness and strength, without ever having degraded himself or believed all human creatures vile. the stage has its shams, its mockeries, but its glories, too. it is not all deranged by money-bags. the most brilliant of your writers give us our lines--the most wonderful of your mystics. it is true we simulate; true that ours is a constant giving; but call in your garret-high logic now, sir prophet: look at the tired empty faces of my company, look at mine, after we have finished _the thing_; then look at the strengthened grip on life and the lifted hopes which, each night, the multitude takes from out our breasts--and call ours a prostitution, if you can!" charter arose and extended his hand, which she took gracelessly, but was instantly sorry that she had misjudged his intent. "can't you see, selma cross, that you and i have no difference, no point for argument, if the general run of plays were like _the thing_--as you make me see it? we had eliminated this from the discussion, but i have nothing but praise for vhruebert, nothing but enthusiasm for mr. cabot and for you--if the combination gives the people an expansion of hope and a lifted ideal. do that, and you need not reckon with critics." instantly she changed her point of view again, so that he was both chilled and puzzled. "i should have been glad to come out in any successful play," she said wearily. "_the thing_ just happens to have an uplift----" "so much is accomplished for you, then. you will never be content again with a play that has not. oh, i don't mean ostensible good, melodramatically contrasted with obvious bad, but the subtle inspiration of real artists--that marvellous flexibility of line and largeness of meaning that fits about every life! just as you can draw fresh strength again and again from a great poem; so, in performing a great play--one does not act, but lives!" "are you going?" she questioned absently. "yes, i confess i haven't been so consumed in years----" she drew close to him.... "it has been dramatic, if not literary, hasn't it?" her nostrils dilated and her lower lip was drawn back between her teeth. he smiled. "i feel burnt out, too," she went on softly. "it has been strange to be with you again--almost like--those early mornings.... did you ever hear me calling you--'way off there in the west? i used to lie awake, all feverish after you went away, calling in a whisper, 'quentin--quentin!...' it seemed you must come, if you were alive. there were times after you went away, that i would have given this week's victory, which i saw from afar,--to have you rush in for just one hour!... in god's name," she cried suddenly, "is there really this sort of honor in living man--is it because you hate me--or do you have to drink to take a woman in your arms? you, who used to be--singing flames?" charter was not unattracted, but his self-command was strangely imperious. there was magnetism now in the old passion--but a flutter of wings broke the attraction.... darkness covered the wings, and the song was stilled; yet in that faint rustling, was enchantment which changed to brute matter--these open arms and the rising breast. "i'm afraid it is as you said--about the anæmic priest," he muttered laughingly.... and then it occurred to him that there might have been a trick to her tempting.... from this point he was sexless and could pity her, though his nerves were raw from her verbal punishments. it was altogether new in his experience--this word-whipping; and though he had not sharpened a sentence in retaliation, he could not but see the ghastly way in which a woman is betrayed by her temper, which checks a man's passion like a sudden fright. between a woman given to rages and her lover--lies a naked sword. consummate, in truth, is the siren who has mastered the art of silence.... selma cross sank back into a chair. the world's wear was on her brow and under her eyes, as she laughed bitterly. "you always had a way of making me sick of life," she said strangely. "i wonder if ever there was a humiliation so artistically complete as mine?" this was another facet to the prism of the woman. charter could not be quite certain as to her present intent, so frequently alternating had been the currents of her emotion during the interview. typically an actress, she had run through her whole range of effects. he was not prepared yet to say which was trick, which reality; which was the woman, selma cross, or the tragedienne. he did not miss the thought that his theory was amazingly strengthened here--the theory that moral derangement results from excessive simulation. "you--would--not--kiss--me," she repeated. "for my own sake, i'd like to believe--that you're trying to be true to some one,--but it's all rot that there are men like that! it's because i no longer tempt you--you spook!" "you said you had a lover----" she shivered. "you left me unfinished." there was a tragic plaint in her tone, and she added hastily, "there was a reason for my trying you.... i think the most corroding of the knives you have left in me to-night, is that you have refused to ask why i brought you here--refused even to utter the name--of the woman you expected to see--_in my presence_.... you may be a man; you may be a cad; you may be a new appetite, or a god resurrected out of a glowworm. i either hate or love you--or both--to the point of death! either way--remember this--i'll be square as a die--to you and to my friend. you'll begin to see what i mean--to-morrow, i think...." he was at the door. "good-night," he said and touched the signal for the elevator. she called him back, "come and see me--at my best--at the _herriot_--won't you?" "yes----" "but tell me what performance--and where your seat is----" "... good-night." the car stopped at the floor. sixteenth chapter paula finding that both giants have entered her castle, rushes in tumult into the night it was after eight that sunday night, when paula emerged from the elevator in the upper-hall of the _zoroaster_, and noted that the door of the selma cross apartment was ajar.... the interval since she had parted from the actress the evening before had been abundant with misery. almost, she had crossed the bay to visit the reifferscheids; would have done so, indeed, had she been able to 'phone her coming. her rooms had become a dismal oppression; bellingham haunted her consciousness; there were moments when she was actually afraid there alone. all saturday night she had sleeplessly tossed, knowing that quentin charter was speeding eastward, and dreading the moment when he should arrive in the city and find no welcoming note from her. she dared not be in her rooms after he was due to reach the _granville_, lest he call her by telephone or messenger--and her purpose of not seeing him be destroyed by some swift and salient appeal. she had waited until after the hour in which he had asked to call, to be sure that this time he would have given up all hope of seeing her. the prospect now of entering her apartment and remaining there throughout the night, challenged every ounce of will-force she possessed.... battling with loneliness and bereavement, as she had been for hours, paula was grateful to note, by the open door, that the actress was at home, even though she had left her the evening before, hurt and disappointed by the other's swift change of manner upon learning that quentin charter was to be in new york to-day.... it was with a startling but indefinable emotion that she heard the man's voice now through the open door. stephen cabot was there, she thought, as she softly let herself in to the place of ordeals, which her own flat had become. in the dark and silence of the inner hall, the old enemy swept into her consciousness--again the awful localizations of the preying force! the usual powers of mind scattered, as in war the pith of a capital's garrisons rush forth to distant borders. by habit, her hand was upon the button, but she did not turn on light. instead, she drew back, steeling her will to remember her name, her place in the world, her friends. harshly driven, yet paula repressed a cry, and fought her way out into the main hall--as from the coiling suction of a maelstrom. even in her terror, she could not but repress a swift sense of victory, in that she had escaped from the vortex of attraction--her own rooms. the man's voice reached her again, filled her mind with amazing resistance--so that the point of the occultist's will was broken. suddenly, she remembered that she had once heard stephen cabot, protesting that he was quite well--at the end of the first new york performance of _the thing_, and that his tones were inseparably identified with his misfortune. the voice she heard now thrilled her like an ancient, but instantly familiar, harmony. it was not stephen cabot's. she stood at the open door, when the vehemence of selma cross, who was now speaking, caused her to refrain from making her presence known. the unspeakable possibility, suddenly upreared in her mind, banished every formality. the full energies of her life formed in a prayer that she might be wrong, as paula peered through the inner hall, and for the first time in the flesh glimpsed quentin charter. she was standing before the elevator-shaft and had signaled for the car eternities ago. selma cross was moving up and down the room within, but her words though faintly audible, had no meaning to the woman without. paula's mind seemed so filled with sayings from the actress that there was no room for the interpretation of a syllable further. one sentence of charter's startled her with deadly pain.... she could wait no longer, and started to walk down. half-way to the main-floor, the elevator sped upward to answer her bell.... she was very weak, and temptation was fiercely operative to return to her rooms, when she heard a slow, firm step ascending the flight below. she turned from the stairs on the second floor, just as the huge, lean shoulders of bellingham appeared on the opposite side of the elevator-shaft. the two faced without words. his countenance was livid, wasted, but his eyes were of fire. paula lost herself in their power. she knew only that she must return with him. there was no place to go; indeed, to return with him now seemed normal, rational--until the brightly-lit car rushed down and stopped before them. "excuse me for keeping you waiting, miss linster," the elevator-man said, "but i had to carry a message to the rear." in the instantaneous break of bellingham's concentration, paula recovered herself sufficiently to dart into the car. "down, if you please," she said hoarsely. "the gentleman is going up." bellingham, who had started to follow, was stopped by the sliding-door. the conductor called that he would be back directly, as his car slid down.... in the untellable disorganization of mind, paula knew for the moment only this: she must reach the outer darkness instantly or expire. in that swift drop to the main floor, and in the brief interval required to stop the car and slide the door, she endured all the agony of tightened fingers upon her throat. there was an ease in racing limbs, as she sped across the tiles to the entrance, as a frightened child rushes from a dark room. she would die if the great door resisted--pictured it all before her hand touched the knob. she would turn, scream, and fall from suffocation. her scream would call about her the horror that she feared. the big door answered, as it seemed, with a sort of leisurely dignity to her spasm of strength--and out under the rain-blurred lamps, she ran, ready to faint if any one called, and continually horrified lest something pluck at her skirts--thus to central park west. an eighth avenue car was approaching, half a square above. to stand and wait, in the fear lest bellingham reach the corner in time for the car, assailed the last of her vitality. it was not until she had boarded it, and was beyond reach of a pedestrian on cathedral way, that she breathed as one who has touched shore after the rapids. still, every south-bound cab renewed her panic. she could have made time to south ferry by changing to the elevated, but fear of encountering the destroyer prevented this. fully three-quarters of an hour was used in reaching the waiting-room, where she was fortunate in catching a staten island boat without delay. every figure that crossed the bridge after her, until the big ferry put off, paula scrutinized; then sank nearly fainting into a seat. bellingham's plot was clear to her mind, as well as certain elements of his craft to obviate every possibility of failure. he had doubtless seen her enter the house, and timed his control to dethrone her volition as she reached her rooms. since the elevator-man would not have taken him up, without word from her, bellingham had hastened in and started up the stairs when the car was called from the main floor. his shock at finding her in the second-hall was extraordinary, since he was doubtless struggling with the entire force of his concentration, to hold her in the higher apartment and to prepare her mind for his own reception. it was that moment that the elevator-man had saved her; yet, she could not forget how the voice of quentin charter had broken the magician's power a moment before; and it occurred to her now how wonderfully throughout her whole bellingham experience, something of the westerner's spirit had sustained her in the crises--quentin charter's book that first night in prismatic hall; quentin charter's letter to which she had clung during the dreadful interview in the park.... as for quentin charter rushing immediately to the woman of lawless attractions, because he had not received the hoped-for note at the _granville_--in this appeared a wantonness almost beyond belief. wearily she tried to put the man and his base action entirely out of mind. and selma cross, whose animation had been so noticeable when informed of charter's coming, had fallen beneath the reach of paula's emotions.... she could pity--with what a torrential outpouring--could she pity "that finest, lowest head!" she stepped out on deck. the april night was inky-black. all day there had been a misty rain from which the chill of winter was gone. the dampness was sweet to breathe and fresh upon her face. the smell of ocean brought up from the subconscious, a thought already in tangible formation there. the round clock in the cabin forward had indicated nine-forty-five. it seemed more like another day, than only an hour and a half ago, that she had caught the eighth avenue car at cathedral way. the ferry was nearing the staten slip. in a half-hour more, she would reach reifferscheid's house. her heart warmed with gratitude for a friend to whom she could say as little or as much as she pleased, yet find him, heart and home, at her service. one must be terrified and know the need of a refuge in the night to test such values. a few hours before, she had rejected the thought of going, because a slight formality had not been attended to. hard pressed now, she was seeking him in the midst of the night.... at the mention of the big man's name, the conductor on the silver lake car took her in charge, helped her off at the right road, and pointed out the reifferscheid light. thus she felt her friend's kindness long before she heard the big elms whispering over his cottage. the front-window was frankly uncurtained, and the editor sat within, soft-shirted and eminently comfortable beside a green-shaded reading-lamp. she even saw him drop his book at her step upon the walk. a moment later, she blinked at him laughingly, as he stood in the light of the wide open doorway. "properly 'driven from home,' i suppose i should be tear-stained and in shawl and apron," she began. he laughed delightedly, and exclaimed: "how could father be so obdurate--alas, a-a-las! lemme see, this is a fisherman's hut on the moors, or a gardener's lodge on the shore. anyway, it's good to have you here.... annie!" he took her hat and raincoat, wriggling meanwhile into a coat of his own, arranged a big chair before the grate, then removed her rubbers. not a question did he ask, and sister annie's greeting presently, from her chair, was quite the same--as if the visit and the hour were exactly in order. "you'll stay a day or two, won't you?" he asked. "honestly, i don't like the way they treat you up there beyond the park.... it will be fine to-morrow. this soft rain will make mother earth turn over and take an eye-opener----" "the truth is, i want to stay until there's a ship for the antilles," she told him, "and i don't know when the first one goes." "i hope it's a week at least," he said briskly. "the morning papers are here with all the sailings. a sea-voyage will do you a world of good, and europe doesn't compare with a trip to the caribbean." "just you two--and one other--are to know," paula added nervously. reifferscheid had gathered up a bundle of papers, and was turning pages swiftly. "there isn't a reason in the world why everybody should know," he remarked lightly, "only you'd better be lottie or daisy whats-her-name, as the cabin lists of all outgoing ships are available to any one who looks." "tim will be delighted to make everything easy for you," sister annie put in. thus mountains dissolved. the soulful accord and the instant sympathy which sprang to meet her every word, and the valor behind it all, so solid as to need no explanation--were more than paula could bear.... reifferscheid looked up from his papers, finding that she did not speak, started with embarrassment, and darted to the buffet. a moment later he had given her a glass of wine and vanished from the room with an armful of newspapers. the door had no sooner closed upon him than paula discovered the outstretched arms of sister annie. in the several moments which followed her heart was healed and soothed through a half-forgotten luxury.... "the twin-screw liner, _fruitlands_,--do you really want the first?" reifferscheid interrupted himself, when he was permitted to enter later. "yes." "well, it sails in forty-eight hours, or a little less--savannah, santiago de cuba, san juan de porto rico--and down to the little antilles--tuesday night at ten o'clock at the foot of manhattan." "that will do very well," paula said, "and i'd like to go straight to the ship from here--if you'll----" "berth--transportation--trunks--and sub-let your flat, if you like," reifferscheid said as gleefully as a boy invited for a week's hunt. "why, miss linster, i am the original arrangement committee." "you have always been wonderful to me," paula could not help saying, though it shattered his ease. "this one other who must know is madame nestor. she'll take care of my flat and pack things for me--if you'll get a message to her in the morning when you go over. i don't expect to be gone so long that it will be advisable to sub-let." "which is emphatically glad tidings," reifferscheid remarked hastily. "you'll want all your summer clothes," said sister annie. "tim will see to your trunks." "sometime, i'll make it all plain," paula tried to say steadily. "it's just been life to me--this coming here--and knowing that i could come here----" "miss linster," reifferscheid broke in, "i don't want to have to disappear again. the little things you need done, i'd do for any one in the office. please bear in mind that sister annie and i would be hurt--if you didn't let us do them. why, we belong--in a case like this. incidentally, you are doing a bully thing--to take a sail down past that toy-archipelago. they say you can hear the parakeets screeching out from the palm-trees on the shore, and each island has a different smell of spice. it will be great for you--rig you out with a new set of wings. you must take hearn along. i've got his volume here on the west indies. he'll tell you the color of the water your ship churns. each day farther south it's a different blue----" so he jockeyed her into laughing, and she slept long and dreamlessly that night, as she had done once before in the same room.... the second night following, reifferscheid put her aboard the _fruitlands_. "it's good you thought of taking your cabin under a borrowed name, miss--er--wyndam--miss laura wyndam," he said in a low voice, for the passengers were moving about. "i'll write you all about it. you have famous friends. selma cross, who is playing at the _herriot_, wanted to know where you were. i thought for a minute she was going to throw me down and take it away from me. quentin charter, by the way, is in town and asked about you. seemed depressed when i told him you were out of town, and hadn't sent your address to me yet. i told him and miss cross that mail for you sent to _the states_ would get to you eventually. both said they would write--so you'll hear from them on the ship that follows this." he glanced at her queerly for a second, and added, "good-by, and a blessed voyage to you, tired lady. write us how the isles bewitch you, and i'll send you a package of books every ship or two----" "good-by--my first of friends!" two hours afterward paula took a last turn on deck. the spray swept in gusts over the _fruitlands's_ dipping prow. the bare masts, tipped with lights, swung with a giant sweep from port to starboard and back to port again, fingering the black heavens for the blown-out stars. she was lonely, but not altogether miserable, out there on the tossing floor of the atlantic.... seventeenth chapter paula sails into the south, seeking the holy man of saint pierre, where _la montagne pelÉe_ gives warning wonderfully strengthened, she was, by the voyage. sorrow had destroyed large fields of verdure, and turned barren the future, but its devouring was finished. quentin charter was adjusted in her mind to a duality with which paula linster could have no concern. only to one mistress could he be faithful; indeed, it was only in the presence of this mistress that he became the tower of visions to another; in the midst of the work he worshipped, quentin charter had heard the skylark sing. paula did not want to see him again, nor selma cross. to avoid these two, as well as the place where the destroyer had learned so well to penetrate, she had managed not to return to her apartment during the two days before sailing.... there would never be another master-romance--never again so rich a giving, nor so pure an ideal. before this tragic reality, the inner glory of her womanhood became meaningless. it was this that made the future a crossing of sterile tundras,--yet she would keep her friends, and love her work, and try to hold her faith.... bellingham did not call her at sea, but he had frightened her too profoundly to be far from mind. the face she had seen in the hall-way was drawn and disordered by the dreadful tortures of nether-planes; and awful in the eyes, was that feline vacancy of soul. once in a dream, she saw him--a pale reptile-monster upreared from a salty sea, voiceless in that oceanic isolation, a shameful secret of the depths. the ghastly bulk had risen with a mute protest to the sky against dissolution and creeping decay--and sounded again.... to her, bellingham was living death, the triumph of desire which rends itself, the very essence of tragedy. she gladly would have died to make her race see the awfulness of _just flesh_--as she saw it now.... his power seemed ended; she felt with the reifferscheids and madame nestor, that her secret was hermetic, and there was a goodly sense of security in the intervening sea.... and now there was a new island each day; each morning a fresh garden arose from the caribbean--sun-wooed, rain-softened isles with colorful little ports.... there was one tropic city--she could not recall the name--which from the offing had looked like the flower-strewn gateway to an amphitheatre of mountains. the _fruitlands_ had lain for a day in the hot, sharky harbor of santiago; had run into a real cloudburst off the silver reefs of santo domingo, and breathed on the radiant next morning before the stately and ancient city of san juan de porto rico--shining white as a dream-castle of old spain, and adrift in an azure world of sky and sea. she spent a day and an evening in this isle of ripe fruits and riper amours; and took away materials for a memory composite of interminable siestas, restless radiant nights, towering cliffs, incomparable courtesy, and soft-voiced maidens with wondrous spanish eyes that laugh and turn away. then for two days they had steamed down past the saintly archipelago--st. thomas, st. martin, st. kitts; then montserrat, guadeloupe, dominica, and a legion of littler isles--truncated peaks jutting forth from fragrant, tinted water. there were afternoons when she did not care to lift her voice or move about. fruit-juices and the simplest salads, a flexible cane chair under the awnings, a book to rest the eyes from the gorgeous sea and enchanted shores, somnolence rather than sleep--these are enough for the approach to perfection in the caribbean, with the lesser antilles on the lee.... then at last in late afternoon, the great hulking shape of pelée loomed watery green against the sky; in the swift-speeding twilight, the volcano seemed to swell and blacken until it was like the shadow of a continent, and the lights of saint pierre pricked off the edge of the land. at last late at night, queerly restless, she sat alone on deck in the windless roadstead and regarded the illumined terraces of saint pierre. they had told her that the breath from martinique was like the heavy moist sweetness of a horticultural garden, but the island must have been sick with fever this night, for a mile at sea the land-breeze was dry, devitalized, irritating the throat and nostrils. there was no moon, and the stars were so faint in the north that the mass of pelée was scarcely shaped against the sky. the higher lights of the city had a reddish uncertain glow, as if a thin film of fog hung between them and the eye; but to the south the night cleared into pure purple and unsullied tropic stars. the harbor was weirdly hot. before her was the city which held the quest of her voyaging--father fontanel, the holy man of saint pierre.... _only a stranger can realize what a pure shining garment his actual flesh has become. to me there was healing in the very approach of the man...._ this was the enduring fragment from the charter letters; and in that dreadful sunday night when she began her flight from bellingham, already deep within her mind father fontanel was the goal.... paula set out for shore early the next morning. the second-officer of the _fruitlands_ sat beside her in the launch. she spoke of the intense sultriness. "yes, saint pierre is glowing like a brazier," he said. "i was ashore last night for awhile. the people blame the mountain. old pelée has been acting up--showering the town with ash every little while lately. it's the taint of sulphur that spoils the air." she turned apprehensively toward the volcano. _la montague pelée_, over the red-tiled roofs of saint pierre, looked huge like an emperor of the romans. paled in the intense morning light, he wore a delicate ruching of white cloud about his crown. they stepped ashore on the sugar landing where paula found a carriage to take her to the _hotel des palms_, a rare old plantation-house on the _morne d'orange_, recently converted for public use. the ponies were ascending the rise in _rue victor hugo_, at the southern end of the city, when paula discovered the little catholic church she had imaged for so many weeks, _notre dame des lourdes_, niched away in the crowded streets with a quebec-like quaintness, and all the holier from its close association with the lowly shops. from these walls had risen the spiritual house of father fontanel--her far bright beacon.... the _porteuses_, said to be the lithest, hardiest women of the occident, wore a pitiable look of fatigue, as they came down from the hill-trails, steadying the baskets upon their heads. the pressure of the heat, and the dispiriting atmosphere revealed their effects in the distended eyelids and colorless, twisted lips of the burden-bearers. the ponies at length gained the eminence of the _morne d'orange_, and ahead she saw the broad, white plantation-house--_hotel des palms_. to the right was the dazzling, turquoise sea where the _fruitlands_ lay large among the shipping, and near her a private sea-going yacht, nearly as long and angelically white. the broad verandas of the hotel were alluring with palms; the walls and portcullises were cooled with embroidering vines. gardens flamed with poinsettias and roses, and a shaded grove of mango and india trees at the end of the lawn, was edged with moon flowerets and oleanders. back of the plantation-house waved the sloping seas of cane; in front, the caribbean. on the south rose the peaks of carbet; on the north, the monster. paula had hardly left the veranda of magnificent vistas two hours later, when the friendly captain of the _fruitlands_ approached with an elderly american, of distinguished appearance, whom he presented--mr. peter stock, of pittsburg. "since you are to leave us here, miss wyndam," the captain added, "i thought you would be glad to know mr. stock, who makes an annual cruise around these islands--and knows them better than any american i've encountered yet. yonder is his yacht--that clipper-built beauty just a bit in from the liner." "i've already been admiring the yacht," paula said, "and wondering her name. there's something venetian about her dazzling whiteness in the soft, deep blue." "i get it exactly, miss wyndam--that 'mirage of marble' in the italian sky.... my craft is the _saragossa_." his eyelids were tightened against the light, and the voice was sharp and brisk. his face, tropically tanned, contrasted effectively with the close-cropped hair and mustache, lustrous-white as his ship.... paula having found the captain's courtesy and good sense invariable during the voyage, gladly accepted his friend, who proved most interesting on the matter of pelée. "i've stayed here in saint pierre longer now than usual," he told her, pointing toward the mountain, "to study the old man yonder. pelée, you know, is identified with martinique, much the same as the memory of josephine; yet the people of the city can't seem to take his present disorder seriously. this is cataclysmic country. hell--i use the word to signify a geological stratum--is very close to the surface down here. all these lovely islands are merely ash-piles hurled up by the great subterranean fires. the point is, lost atlantis is apt to stir any time under the caribbean--and rub out our very pretty panorama." "you regard this as an entertainment worth waiting for?" paula asked. the vaguest sort of a smile passed over his eyes and touched his lips. "pelée and i are very old friends. i spoke of the volcanic origin of these islands in the way of suggesting that any seismic activity in the archipelago--pelée's present internal complaint, for instance,--should be taken significantly. saint pierre would have been white this morning--except for the heavy rain before dawn." "you mean volcanic ash?" "exactly." "that explains the white scum i saw in the gutters, driving through the city.... but it isn't altogether a novelty, is it, for the mountain to behave this way?" "from time to time in the past ten days, miss wyndam, pelée has had a session of grumbling." "i mean as a usual thing----" he turned to her abruptly and inquired, "didn't you know that there hasn't been a sound from pelée for twenty years before the month of april now ending?" this gave intimacy to the disorder. mr. stock was called away just now, but after dinner that night he joined paula again on the great veranda. "ever been in pittsburg?" he asked. "no." "i've only to shut my eyes in this second-hand air--to think i'm back among the steel mills of the lower monongahela." "the moon looks like beaten egg," paula said with a slight shiver. "they must be suffering down in the city. you're the expert on pelée, mr. stock, please tell me more about him." he had been regarding the new moon, low and to the left of the carbet peaks. it had none of the sharpness of outline peculiar to the tropics, but was blurred and of an orange hue, instead of silvery. "it's the ash-fog in the air which has the effect of a fine wire screen," he explained. "we'll have a white world to-morrow, if it doesn't rain." they turned to the north where a low rumbling was heard. it was like distant thunder, but the horizon beyond pelée was unscathed by lightning. "are you really worried, mr. stock?" "why, it's as i said. the fact that pelée is acting out of the ordinary is quite enough to make any one skeptical regarding his intentions." he discussed familiarly certain of the man-eaters among the mountains of the world--krakatoa, bandaisan, cotopaxi, vesuvius, Ætna, calling them chronic old ruffians, whom time doesn't tame. "a thousand years is nothing to them," he added. "they wait, still as crocodiles, until seers have built their temples in the high rifts and cities have formed on their flanks. they have tasted blood, you see, and the madness comes back. twenty years is only a siesta. pelée is a suspect." "i think i should prefer to hear you tell the treachery of volcanoes outside of the fire-zone," she declared. "it's like listening to ghost stories in a haunted house." pelée rumbled again, and paula's fingers involuntarily started toward his sleeve. the heavy wooden shutters of the great house rattled in the windless night; the ground upon which they stood seemed to wince at the monster's pain. she was conscious of the fragrance of roses and magnolia blooms above the acrid taint of the air. some strange freak of the atmosphere exerted a pressure upon the flowers, forcing a sudden expulsion of perfume. the young moon was a formless blotch now in the fouled sky. a sigh like the whimpering of many sick children was audible from the servants' cabins behind the hotel.... later, from her own room, she saw the double chain of lights out in the harbor--the _saragossa_ pulling at her moorings among the lesser craft, like a bright empress in the midst of dusky maid-servants; and in the north was vulcan struggling to contain the fury of his fluids. she was a little afraid of pelée. very early abroad, paula set out on her first pilgrimage to _notre dame des lourdes_. rain had not fallen in the night, and she regarded a white world, as stock had promised, and the source of the phenomenon with the pastelle tints of early morning upon his huge eastern slope. she had slept little and with her face turned to the north. a cortege had passed before her in dream--all the destroyers of history, each with a vivid individuality, like the types of faces of all nations--the story of each and the desolation it had made among men and the works of men. most of them had given warning. pelée was warning now. his warning was written upon the veins of every leaf, painted upon the curve of every blade of grass, sheeted evenly-white upon the red tiles of every roof. gray dust blown by steam from the bursting quarries of the mountain clogged the gutters of the city and the throats of men. it was a moving, white cloud in the river, a chalky shading that marked the highest reach of the harbor tide. it settled in the hair of the children, and complicated the toil of bees in the nectar-cups. with league-long cerements, and with a voice that caused to tremble his dwarfed companions, the hills and _mornes_, great pelée had proclaimed his warning in the night. eighteenth chapter paula is involved in the rending fortunes of saint pierre and _the panther_ calls with new york mail father fontanel was out in the parish somewhere. one of the washer-women told her this, at the door of the church. there were many sick in the city from the great heat and the burned air--many little children sick. father fontanel always sought the sick in body; those who were sick in soul, sought him.... so the woman of the river-banks, in her simple way, augmented the story of the priest's love for his people. paula rested for a few moments in the dim transept. natives moved in and out for a breath of coolness, some pausing to kneel upon the worn tiles of the nave. later she walked among the lower streets of the suffering city, her heart filled with pity for the throngs housed on the low breathless water-front. except when the wind was straight from the volcano, the hotel on the _morne d'orange_ was made livable by the cool trades. the clock in the _hopital l'militaire_ struck the hour of nine. paula had just hired a carriage at the sugar landing, when her eye was attracted by a small crowd gathering near the water's edge. the black cassock of a priest in the midst drew her hurrying forward. a young man, she thought at first, from the frail shoulders and the slender waist.... a negress had fallen from the heat. her burdens lay together upon the shore--a tray of cakes from her head, and a naked babe from her arms.... a glimpse at the priest's profile, and she needed not to be told that this was the holy man of saint pierre. happiness lived in the face above the deep pity of the moment. it was an attraction of light, like the brow of mary in murillo's _immaculate conception_; or like that instant ethereal radiance which shines from the face of a little child passing away without pain. the years had put an exquisite nobility upon the plain countenance, and the inner life had added the gleam of adoration--"the rapture-light of holy vigils kept." paula rubbed her eyes, afraid lest it were not true; afraid for a moment that it was her own meditations that had wrought this miracle in clay. lingering, she ceased to doubt the soul's transfiguration.... father fontanel beckoned a huge negro from a lighter laden with molasses-casks--a man of strength, bare to the waist. "take the little mother to my house," he said. a young woman standing by was given charge of the child.... "lift her gently, strong man. the woman will show you the way to the door." then raising his voice to the crowd, the priest added, "you who are well--tell others that it is yet cool in the church. carry the ailing ones there, and the little children. father pelée will soon be silent again.... does any one happen to know who owns the beautiful ship in the harbor?" his french sentences seemed lifted above a pervasive hush upon the shore. the native faces wore a curious look of adulation; and paula marvelled in that they seemed unconscious of this. she was not a catholic; yet she uttered his name with a thrilling rapture, and with a meaning she had never known before: "father fontanel----" he turned, instantly divining her inspiration. "mr. stock, who owns the ship yonder, is staying at the _hotel des palms_," she said quickly. "i have a carriage here. i was thinking that the sick woman and her child might be taken to your house in that. afterward, when she is cared for, you might wish to ride with me to the hotel--where i also live." "why, yes, child--who are you?" "just a visitor in saint pierre--a woman from the states." her arrangement was followed, and the negro went back to his work. father fontanel joined her behind the carriage. "but you speak french so well," he observed. "not a few americans do. i was grateful that it came back to me here." "yes, for i do not speak a word of english," he said humbly. they walked for a moment in silence, his head bowed in thought. paula, glancing at him from time to time, studied the lines of pity and tenderness which shadowed the eyes. his mouth was wonderful to her, quite as virgin to the iron of self-repression as to the soft fullness of physical desire. this was the marvel of the face--it was above battle. here were eyes that had seen the glory and retained an unearthly happiness--a face that moved among the lowly, loved, pitied, abode with them; yet was beautiful with the spiritual poise of overman. "it was strange that you did not meet lafcadio hearn when he was here," she said at length. he shook his head, asked the name again and the man's work. "a writer who tarried here; a mystic, too, strange and strong." "i know no writer by that name--but how did you know that i did not meet him, child?" "i was thinking he would write about you in his book of martinique sketches--had he known." he accepted the explanation innocently. "there was a writer here--a young man very dear to me--of whom you reminded me at once----" "of whom i reminded you, father?" she repeated excitedly. "you mean because i spoke of another writer?" "no, i saw a resemblance--rather some relationship of yours to my wonderful young friend.... he said he would come again to me." she had spoken of hearn in the hope that father fontanel would be reminded of another writer whose name she did not care to mention. his idea of relationship startled her to the heart; yet when she asked further, the good man could not explain. it had merely been his first thought, he said,--as if she had _come_ from his friend. "you thought much of him then, father fontanel?" he spoke with power now. "a character of terrible thirsts, child,--such thirsts as i have never known. some moments as he walked beside me, i have felt him--like a giant with wolves pulling at his thighs, and angels lifting his arms. great strength of mind, his presence endowed me, so that i would have seen more of him, and more,--but he will come back! and i know that the wolves shall have been slain, when he comes again----" "and the angels, father?" she whispered. "such are the companions of the lifted, my daughter.... it is when i meet one of great conflicts that i am suffused with the spirit of worship in that i am spared. god makes my way so easy that i must wonder if i am not one of his very weak. it must be so, for my mornings and evenings are made lovely by the presence. my people hearken unto my prayers for them; they love me and bring their little children for my blessing--until i am so happy that i cry aloud for some great work to do that i may strive heroically to show my gratitude to god--and lo, the doors of my work are opened, but there are no lions in the way!" she knew now all that charter had meant. in her breast was a silent mystic stirring--akin to that endearing miracle enacted in a conservatory of flowers, when the morning sun first floods down upon the glass.... the initial doubt of her own valor in suffering selma cross to shatter her tower, sprang into being now. father fontanel loved him, and had looked within. that the priest had perceived a "relationship" swept into the woman's soul. low logic wrought from the physical contacts of selma cross trembled before the other immaterial suggestion--that quentin charter would come back to saint pierre triumphantly companioned, his wolves slain.... she forgot nothing of the actress's point of view; nor that the westerner did not reach her floor in the _zoroaster_ and encounter an old attraction by accident. he was not one to force his way there, if the man at the elevator told him miss linster was not in. all of these things which had driven her to action were still inexplicable, but final condemnation was gone from the evidence--as the stone rolled away. bellingham?... the mystery now, as she stood within this radiant aura, was that any point of his desire could ever have found lodgment within. her sense of protection at this moment was absolute. she had done well to come here.... again swept into mind, quentin charter's silent part in saving her from the destroyer--the book, the letter, the voice; even to this sanctuary she had come through a sentence from him. for a moment the old master-romance shone glorious again--like a lone, valiant star glimpsed in the rift of storm-hurled clouds. they had reached the low street door of father fontanel's house, a wing of the church. a native doctor had been summoned and helped to carry the woman in. she was revived presently. "father," paula said, remembering the words of the washer-woman, as they emerged into the street, "when one is sick of soul--does one knock here?" "one does not knock, but enters straightway," he answered. "the door is never locked.... but you look very happy, my daughter." "i am happy," she answered. * * * * * they drove together to the _hotel des palms_. paula did not ask, though she had something of an idea regarding the priest's purpose in asking for peter stock. though she had formed a very high opinion of the american, it occurred to her that he would hardly approve of any one directing arteries of philanthropy to his hand. he had been one of those ruffian giants of the elder school of finance who began with the axe and the plow; whose health, character and ethics had been wrought upon the anvil of privation; whose culture began in middle life, and, being hard-earned, was eminent in the foreground of mind--austere and inelastic, this culture, yet solidly founded. stock was rich and loved to give, but was rather ashamed of it. paula could imagine him saying, "i hate the whining of the strong." for twenty years since his retirement, he had voyaged about the world, learning to love beautiful things, and giving possibly many small fortunes away; yet he much would have preferred to acknowledge that he had knocked down a brute than endowed an asylum. mr. stock was firm in opinion, dutiful in appreciation for the fine. his sayings were strongly savored, reliant with facts; his every thought was the result of a direct physical process of mind,--a mind athletic to grip the tangible, but which had not yet contracted for its spiritual endowment. in a word a splendid type of american with which to blend an ardently artistic temperament.... paula, holding something of this conception of the capitalist, became eager to see what adjustment could follow a meeting with his complement in characteristic qualities--her revered mystic. mr. stock was pacing up and down the mango grove. leaving father fontanel on the veranda, she joined the american. "i found a holy man down on the water-front, mildly inquiring who owned the _saragossa_," she said laughingly, "and asked him to share my carriage. he has not told me what he wants, but he's a very wonderful priest." she noted the instant contraction of his brows, and shrank inwardly at the hard, rapid tone, with which he darted the question: "are you a catholic?" "no, mr. stock." "yes. i'll see him." it was as if he were talking to his secretary, but paula liked him too well to mind. they drew near the veranda. "... well, sir, what is it?" he spoke brusquely, and in french, studying the priest's upturned face. mr. stock believed he knew faces. except for the years and the calling, he would have decided that father fontanel was rather too meek and feminine--at first glance. "what i wished to ask depends upon your being here for a day or two," the priest said readily. "father pelée's hot breath is killing our children in the lower quarters of the city, and many of the poor women are suffering. the ship out in the harbor looked to me like a good angel with folded wings, as i walked the water-front this morning. i thought you would be glad to let me send some mothers and babies--to breathe the good air of the offing. a day, or a night and a day, may save lives." paula had felt a proprietary interest in father fontanel's mission, no matter what it proved to be. she was pleased beyond measure to find that he was entirely incapable of awe or cringing, before a man of stern and distinguished mien and of such commanding dignity. moreover, he stated the favor quite as if it were an advantage which the american had not thought of for himself. so interested was she in the priest's utterance, that when her eyes turned from his face to stock's--the alteration there amazed her. and like the natives of the water-front, the american did not seem to be _aware_ of the benign influence. he had followed the french sentences intently at first, but caught the whole idea before the priest was finished. "did you know i wasn't a catholic?" he asked. the question apparently had been in his mind before he felt himself responding to the appeal. "no," father fontanel answered sincerely. "the truth is, it didn't occur to me whether you were or not." "quite right," mr. stock said quickly. "it has no place, whatever, so long as you don't think so. you've got a good idea. i'll be here for a day or two. you'll need money to hire boats; then my first officer will have to be informed. my launch is at the sugar landing.... on second thought, i'll go back down-town with you.... miss wyndam--later in the day--a chat with you?" "of course." father fontanel turned, thanking her with a smile. "and the name is 'wyndam,'" he added. "i had not heard it before." paula watched them walking down the driveway to the carriage which she had retained for father fontanel. the inclination was full-formed to seek the solitude of her room and there review the whole delightful matter.... she was glad that the priest had not asked her name, for under his eyes--she could not have answered "wyndam." it was not until the following evening, after a day of actual physical suffering from pelée and the heat, even on the _morne_, that she had the promised talk with peter stock. "i like your priest," he said, "he works like a man, and he hasn't got a crook in his back. what he wants he seems to get. i have sent over a hundred natives out yonder on the _saragossa_, negotiated for the town's whole available supply of fresh milk, and laird, my chief officer, is giving the party a little cruise to-night----" "do you know--i think it is splendid?" she exclaimed. "what?" "the work--your ship filled with gasping unfortunates from the city!" "do you happen to know of any reason why an idle ship should not be used for some such purpose?" "none, whatever," she said demurely, quite willing that he should adjust the matter to suit himself. his touchiness upon the subject of his own benefactions remanded her pleasurably of reifferscheid. her inward joy was to study in peter stock the unacknowledged influence of father fontanel--or was it an unconscious influence? the american's further activities unfolded: "by the way, have you been reading the french paper here--_les colonies_?" paula had not. "the editor, m. mondet, is the smug authority for a statement yesterday that saint pierre is in absolutely no danger from the mountain. now, of course, this may be true, but he doesn't know it--unless he should have the dealer in destiny on the wire. there is always a big enough percentage of foolish virgins in a city, so it peeved me to find one in the sole editorial capacity. my first impulse was to calk up the throat of m. mondet with several sheets of his abominable assurances. this i restrained, but nevertheless i called upon him to-day. his next issue appears day after to-morrow, and my idea is for him to print a vigorous warning against pelée. why, he could clear the town of ten thousand people for a few days--until the weather settles. incidentally, if the mountain took on a sudden destroying streak--just see what he would have done! some glory in saving lives on that scale." "vine leaves, indeed," said paula, "did m. mondet tell you he would print this warning?" "not exactly. he pointed out the cost of detaching a third of the city's inhabitants. i told him how this cost could be brought down within reason, and showed myself not unwilling to back the exodus. i'm a practical man, miss wyndam, and these things look bigger than they really are. but you never can tell what a tubby little frenchman will do. it's atrocious for a man in his position to say that a volcano won't volcane--sorely tempting to old father pelée--a sort of challenge. it would be bad enough to play pilate and wash his hands of the city's danger--but to be a white-lipped, kissing judas at the last supper of saint pierre----" "did you tell him that?" paula asked hastily. "not in those words, miss wyndam, but he seemed to be a bit afraid of me--kept watching my hands and pulling at his cravat. when he finally showed me to the door, his was the delicacy of one who handles dynamite. at all events, i'm waiting for his next issue to see if my call 'took!' i really do wish that a lot of these people would forget their clothes, chickens, coals, coins, and all such, for a few days and camp somewhere between here and fort de france." paula was thrilled by the american's zeal. he was not content, now that he had begun, to deal with boatloads, but wanted to stir the city. she would have given much to know the exact part of father fontanel in this rousing ardor of her new friend. "and you really think pelée may not hold out?" she asked. "i'm not a monomaniac--at least, not yet," he replied, and his voice suggested a certain pent savagery in his brain. "call it an experiment that i'm sufficiently interested in to finance. the ways of volcanoes are past the previsions of men. i'd like to get a lot of folks out of the fire-zone, until pelée is cool--or a billion tons lighter. this ordered-up-to-nineveh business is out of my line, but it's absorbing. i don't say that pelée will blow his head off this week or this millennium, but i do say that there are vaults of explosives in that monster, the smallest of which could make this city look like a leper's corpse upon the beach. i say that the internal fires are burning high; that they're already playing about the vital cap; that pelée has already sprung several leaks, and that the same force which lifted this cheerful archipelago from the depths of the sea is pressing against the craters at this moment. i say that vesuvius warned before he broke; that krakatoa warned and then struck; that down the ages these safety valves scattered over the face of the earth have mercifully joggled before giving way; that pelée is joggling now." "if m. mondet would write just that," paula said softly, "i think you would have your exodus." she sought her room shortly afterward. pelée's moods had been variable that day. the north had been obscured by a fresh fog in the afternoon. the ash and sulphur fumes, cruel to the lungs on the breezy _morne_, six miles from the craters, gave her an intimation of the anguish of the people in the intervening depression where the city lay. the twilight had brought ease again and a ten-minute shower, so there was real freshness in the early evening. rippling waves of merriment reached her from the darky quarters, as the young men from the fields came forth to bathe in the sea. never before was the volatile tropic soul so strongly evidenced for her understanding, as in that glad hour of reaction--simple hearts to glow at little things, whose swift tragedies come and go like blighting winds which, though they may slay, leave no wound; instant to gladden in the groves of serenity, when a black cloud has blown by. her mind was sleepless.... once, long after midnight, when she fell into a doze, it was only to be awakened by a dream of a garrote upon her throat. the ash had thickened again, and the air was acrid. the hours seemed to fall asleep in passing. from her balcony she peered into the dead-black of the north where pelée rumbled at intervals. back in the south, the blurred moon impended with an evil light. a faint wailing of children reached her from the servants' cabins. the sense of isolation was dreadful for a moment. it seemed to rest entirely with her that time passed at all; that she must grapple with each moment and fight it back into the past.... the _panther_, a fast ship with new york mail, was due to call at saint pierre within forty-eight hours. paula, to hasten the passing of time, determined to take the little steamer over to fort de france for a day, if morning ever came. she must have slept an hour after this decision, for she was unconscious of the transition from darkness to the parched and brilliant dawn which roused her tired eyes. the glass showed her a pallid face, darkly-lined. the blinding light from the east changed the dew to steam before it touched the ground. the more delicate blossoms in the gardens withered in that hectic burning before the sun was an hour high. driving down through the city to the landing she found the _rue victor hugo_ almost deserted. the _porteuses_ were gone from the highway; all doors were tightly shut, strangely marring the tropical effect; broken window-panes were stuffed with cloths to keep out the vitiated air. the tough little island mules (many in their panniers with no one leading), scarcely moved, and hugged the east walls for shade. from the by-ways she imagined the smell of death. * * * * * "hottest morning saint pierre has known for years," the captain said, as she boarded the little steamer which hurriedly put off.... night had fallen (and there had been little to break the misery of saint pierre that day), when she reached the hotel once more. she retired immediately after dinner to take advantage of a fresh, south wind which came with the dark and promised to make sleep possible.... rumblings from the volcano awoke her just before dawn. glancing out over the harbor, she perceived the lights of a big liner lying near the _saragossa_. there was no sleep after this discovery, since she felt this must be the _panther_ with letters from new york. according to her schedule, the steamer had cleared from manhattan a full week after the _fruitlands_. paula breakfasted early, and inquired at the desk how soon the mails would be distributed. "did you arrange at the post-office to have your mail sent care of the hotel?" the clerk inquired. "yes." "the bags should be here very shortly, miss wyndam. the _panther_ anchored at two this morning." "please send any letters for me to my room at once," she told him, and went there to wait, so that she might be alone to read.... madame nestor's writing was upon one envelope, and reifferscheid's upon another, a large one, which contained mail sent to paula linster in his care to be forwarded to laura wyndam, among them letters from selma cross and quentin charter, as well as a note from the editor himself. the latter she read first, since the pages were loose in the big envelope. it was a joyous, cheery message, containing a humorous account of those who called to inquire about her, a bit of the gospel of work and a hope for her health--the whole, brief, fine and tonic--like her friend.... tearing open the charter letter, she fell into a vortex of emotions: this is my fifth day in new york, dear skylark, and i have ceased trying to find you. it was not to trouble or frighten you that i searched, but because i think if you understood entirely, you would not hide from me. i hope miss cross has had better success than i in learning your whereabouts, because she has changed certain views regarding me. if you shared with her those former views, it is indeed important that you learn the truth, though it is not for me to put such things in a letter. i have not seen miss cross since that first night; nor have i had the heart yet to see _the thing_. reifferscheid tells me that you may be out of the city for two or three months. i counted him a very good friend of mine, but he treats me now with a peculiar aversion, such as i should consider proper for one to hold toward a wife-beater. it is all very strange and subtly terrifying--this ordeal for which i have been prepared. i see now that i needed the three full years of training. what i cannot quite adjust yet is that i should have made you suffer. my every thought blessed you. my thoughts bless you to-night--sweet gift of the world to me. live in the sun and rest, skylark; put away all shadowy complications--and you will bring back a splendid store of energy for the tenser new york life. i could not have written so calmly a few days ago, for to have you think evil of me drove straight and swiftly to the very centres of sanity--but i have won back through thoughts of you, a noon-day courage; and it has come to me that our truer relation is but beginning. i have not yet the fibre for work; new york is empty without you, as my garret would be without your singing. i shall go away somewhere for a little, leaving my itinerary--when i decide upon it--at the _granville_. some time soon i shall hear from you. all shall be restored--even serenity to your beautiful spirit. i only suffer now in that it proved business of mine to bring you agony. i wanted to make you glad through and through; to lift your spirit, not to weight it down; to make you wiser, happier,--to keep you _winged_. this, as i know the truth, has been my constant outbreathing to you.... my window at the _granville_ faces the east--the east to which i have come--yet from the old ways, i still look to the east for you. new york has found her spring--a warm, almost vernal night, this, and i smell the sea.... two big, gray dusty moths are fluttering at the glass--softly, eagerly to get at the light--as if they knew best.... they have found the way in, for the window was partly open, and have burned their wings at the electric bulb. the analogy is inevitable ... but _you_ would not be hurt, for flame would meet flame.... i turned off the light a moment and remembered that you have already been hurt, but that was rather because flame was not restored by flame.... one moth has gone away. the other has curled up on my table like a faded cotton umbrella. so many murder the soul this way in the pursuit of dead intellectual brilliance.... bless your warm heart that brims with singing--singing which i must hear again.... an old sensation comes to me now as i cease to write. my garret always used to grow empty and heartless--as i closed and sealed a letter to you.... you are radiant in the heart of quentin charter. she was unconscious of passing time, until her eye was attracted by the heavy handwriting of selma cross upon a _herriot theatre_ envelope. this communication was an attempt to clear herself with paula, whose intrinsic clarity had always attracted truth from the actress; also it seemed to contain a struggle to adjust herself, when once she began to write, to the garment of nettles she had woven from mixed motives. i am almost frantic searching for you. i knew you were in the hall _that night_, because i saw your hat as you started to walk down. charter was saying things about the stage that made me want to shut the door, but i must tell you why i made him come there. when it occurred to me how horribly you had been hurt by my disclosures regarding him, the thought drove home that there might be some mistake. you would not see him, so i sent a telephone-message to the _granville_ for him to call. he, of course, thought the message from you. indeed, he would not have come otherwise. he avoided me before, and that night, he certainly would have seen no one but you. our elevator-man at the _zoroaster_ had orders from me to show a gentleman inquiring for you about seven, to my apartment. my thought was, to learn if by any possibility i was wrong in what i had told you. i even thought i might call you in that night. anyway, you would be just across the hall--to hear at once any good word. he thought at first that it was a trap that _we_ had arranged--that you were somewhere in the apartment listening! oh, i'm all in a welter of words--there is so much, and your big brute of an editor would give me no help. the woman in your rooms is quite as blank about you. i never beat so helplessly against a wall. but here's the truth: charter did not talk about our relations. villiers had a spy watching all our movements--and was thus informed. then, when he got back, villiers told me that charter had talked to men--all the things that his spy had learned. he did this to make me hate charter. this is the real truth. charter seems to have become a monk in the three years. this is not so pleasant to write as it will be for you to read, but he would not even mention your name in my room! i want to say that if it is not you--some woman has the new quentin charter heart and soul. i could have done the thing better, but the dramatic possibility of calling him to the _zoroaster_ blinded my judgment, and what a hideous farce it turned out! but you have the truth, and i, my lesson. please forgive your fond old neighbor--who wasn't started out with all the breeding in the world, but who meant to be square with you. paula felt that she could go down into the tortured city at this moment with healing for every woe. she paced the room, and with outstretched arms, poured forth an ecstasy of gratitude for his sake; for the restoration of her tower; for this new and glorious meaning of her womanhood. the thought of returning to new york by the first boat occurred; and the advisability of cabling quentin charter for his ease of mind.... at all events, the time of the next steamer's leaving for new york must be ascertained at once. she was putting on her hat, when madame nestor's unopened letter checked her precipitation. the first line brought back old fears: i'm afraid i have betrayed you, my beloved paula. it is hard that my poor life should be capable of this. less than two hours ago, as i was busied about the apartment, the bell rang and i answered. at the door stood bellingham. he caught my eyes and held them. i remember that instant, the suffocation,--the desperate but vain struggle to keep my self-control. alas, he had subjected my will too thoroughly long ago. almost instantly, i succumbed to the old mastery.... when his control was lifted, i was still standing by the opened door, but he was gone. the elevator was at the ground-floor. he must have passed by me and into the apartment, for one of your photographs was gone. i don't think he came for that, though of course it will help him to concentrate i cannot tell what else happened in the interval, but my dreadful fear is that he made me divulge your place of refuge. what other purpose could he have? it is almost unbearable that i should be forced to tell him--when i love you so--if, indeed, that has come to pass.... he has altered terribly since the accident. i think he has lost certain of his powers--that his thwarted desire is murdering him. he did not formerly need a photograph to concentrate. his eyes burned into mine like a wolf's. i know, even in my sorrow, that yours is to be the victory. he is breaking up or he would not _come to you_.... for a moment or two paula was conscious of pelée, and the gray menace that charged the burnt-out air. then came the thought of father fontanel and the door that was never locked; and presently her new joy returned with ever-rising vibration--until the long-abated powers of her life were fully vitalized again.... she was wondering, as she stepped into the hall and turned the key in her door, if she would be considered rather tumultuous in cabling charter.... at the stairway, she halted, fearing at first some new mental seizure; then every faculty furiously-nerved, she listened at the balustrade for the repetition of a voice that an instant before had thrilled her to the soul.... there had only been a sentence or two from the voice. peter stock was now replying: "he's a man-servant of the devil, this pudgy editor," he said striding up and down the lower hall in his rage. "a few days ago i called upon him, and in sweet modesty and limping french explained the proper policy for him to take about this volcano. to-day he devotes a half-column of insufferable humor to my force of character and alarmist views. oh, the flakiness of the french mind! m. mondet certainly fascinates me. i shall have to call upon him again." paula heard the low laugh of the other and the words: "let's sit down, mr. stock. i want to hear all about the editor and the mountain. i was getting to sea somewhere, when the new york papers ran a line about pelée's activity. it started luring memories, and i berthed at once for saint pierre. it was mighty good to see the _saragossa_ lying familiarly in the roadstead----" trailing her fingers along the wall to steady herself, paula made her way back to the door of her room, which she fumblingly unlocked. nineteenth chapter quentin charter is attracted by the travail of _pelÉe_, and encounters a queer fellow-voyager charter did not find paula linster in the week of new york that followed his call at the _zoroaster_, but he found quentin charter. the first three or four days were rather intense in a psychological way. the old vibrations of new york invariably contained for him a destructive principle, as paris held for dr. duprez. the furious consumption of nerve-tissue during the first evening after his arrival; a renewal of desires operating subconsciously, and in no small part through the passion of selma cross; his last struggle, both subtle and furious, with his own stimulus-craving temperament, and the desolation of the true romance--combined, among other things, worthily to test the growth of his spirit.... the thought that skylark had fallen into the hands of selma cross, and had been given that ugly estimate of him which the actress held before his call, as he expressed it in his letter, "drove straight and swiftly to the very centres of sanity." over this, was a ghastly, whimpering thing that would not be immured--the effect of which, of all assailants to rising hope, was most scarifying: that paula linster had suffered herself to listen to those old horrors, and had permitted him to be called to the bar before selma cross. no matter how he handled this, it held a fundamental lesion in the skylark-fineness. charter whipped his wastrel tendencies one by one until on the fifth day his resistance hardened, and the brute within him was crippled from beating against it. his letter to paula linster was a triumph of repression. probably one out of six of the thoughts that came to him were given expression. he felt that he had made of selma cross an implacable enemy, and was pursued by the haunting dread (if, indeed, the conversation had not been overheard), that she might think better about "squaring" him. it was on this fifth day that for a moment the mystic attraction returned to his consciousness, and he heard the old singing. this was the first reward for a chastened spirit. again and again--though never consciously to be lured or forced--the vision, unhurt, undiminished, returned for just an instant with a veiled, but exquisite refinement. the newspaper account of pelée's overflowing wrath immediately materialized all his vague thought of voyaging. his quest had vanished from new york. had selma cross been true to her word; at least, had any part of their interview been empowered to restore something of the faith of paula linster--there had been ample time for him to hear it. he was afraid that, in itself, his old intimacy with the actress had been enough to startle the skylark into uttermost flight. reifferscheid's frigidity had required only one test to become a deep trouble. his hint that miss linster would be away two or three months rendered new york and a return to his own home equally impossible. father fontanel held a bright, substantial warmth for his isolated spirit--and the _panther_ was among the imminent sailings. he bought his berth and passage on the morning of the sailing date, and there was a matinée of _the thing_ in the meantime. charter did not notify selma cross of his coming, but he liked the play unreservedly, and was amazed by the perfection of her work. he wrote her a line to this effect; and also a note of congratulation and greeting to stephen cabot.... it was not without a pang that he looked back at manhattan from the narrows that night. for several mornings he had studied the gaunt, striding figure of a fellow-passenger, who appeared to be religious in the matter of his constitutional; or, as a sailor softly remarked as he glanced up at charter from his holy-stoning, "he seems to feel the need av walkin' off sivin or eight divils before answerin' the breakfast-gong...." in behalf of this stranger also, charter happened to overhear the chief-steward encouraging one of the waiters to extra-diligence in service, queerly, in the steward's mind, the interest seemed of a deeper sort than even an unusual fee could exact--as if he recognized in the stranger a man exalted in some mysterious masonry. and charter noticed that the haggard giant enforced a sort of willing slavery throughout the ship--from the hands, but through the heads. this strange potentiality was decidedly interesting; as was the figure in itself, which seemed possessed of the strength of vikings, in spite of an impression, inevitable to charter when he drew near--of one enduring a sort of promethean dissolution. charter reflected upon the man's eyes, which had the startling look of having penetrated beyond the formality of death--into shadows where inquisition-hells were limned. it was not until he heard the steward address the other as "doctor bellingham," that the fanciful attraction weakened. his recollection crowded instantly with newspaper paragraphs regarding the bellingham activities. charter was rather normal in his masculine hatred for hypnotic artists and itinerary confessionals for women. the _panther_ ran into a gale in that storm-crucible off hatteras. charter smiled at the thought, as the striding bellingham passed, doing his mileage on the rocking deck, that the roar of the wind in the funnels aloft was fierce energy in the draughts of this human furnace. while his own interest waned, the other, curiously enough, began to respond to his unspoken overtures of a few days before. the _panther_ was a day out from san juan, steaming past the far-flung coral shoals off santo domingo, when charter was beckoned forward where bellingham sat. "this soft air would call a saint francis down from his spiritual meditations," the doctor observed. the voice put charter on edge, and the manner affected him with inward humor. it was as if the other thought, "why, there's that pleasant-faced young man again. perhaps it would be just as well to speak with him." as he drew up his chair, however, charter was conscious of an abrupt change in his mental attitude--an inclination to combat, verbally to rush in, seize and destroy every false utterance. his initial idea was to compel this man who spoke so glibly of meditations to explain what the word meant to him. this tense, nervous impatience to disqualify all the other might say became dominant enough to be reckoned with, but when charter began to repress his irritation, a surprising inner resistance was encountered. his sensation was that of one being demagnetized. thoughts and words came quickly with the outgoing energy of the current. altogether he was extraordinarily affected. "these islands are not particularly adapted for one who pursues the austerities," he replied. "yet where can you find such temperamental happiness?" bellingham inquired, plainly testing the other. his manner of speech was flippant, as if it were quite the same to him if his acquaintance preferred another subject. "anywhere among the less-evolved nations, when the people are warm and fed." the doctor smiled. "you will soon see the long, lithe coppery bodies of the islanders, as they plunge into the sea from the antillean cliffs. you will hear the soft laughter of the women, and then you will forget to deny their perfection." sensuality exhaled from the utterance. "you speak of the few brief zenith years which lie at the end of youth," charter said. "this sort of perfection exists anywhere. in the antilles it certainly is not because the natives have learned how to preserve life." "that's just the point," said bellingham, "add to their natural gifts of beautiful young bodies--the knowledge of preservation." "take a poor, unread island boy and inform him how to live forever," charter observed. "of course, he'll grasp the process instantly. but wouldn't it be rather severe on the other boys and girls, if the usual formula of perpetuating self is used? i mean, would he not have to restore his vitality from the others?" bellingham stared at him. charter faced it out, but not without cost, for the livid countenance before him grew more and more ghastly and tenuous, until it had the effect of becoming altogether unsubstantial; and out of this wraith shone the eyes of the serpent. the clash of wills was quickly passed. "you have encountered a different fountain of youth from mine," the doctor said gently. "rather i have encountered a disgust for any serious consideration of immortality in the body." "interesting, but our good saint paul says that those who are in the body when the last call sounds, will be caught up--without disturbing the sleep of the dead." "it would be rather hard on such bodies--if the chariots were of fire," charter suggested. he was inwardly groping for his poise. he could think well enough, but it disturbed him to feel the need to avoid the other's eyes. he liked the shaping of the conversation and knew that bellingham felt himself unknown. charter realized, too, that he would strike fire if he hammered long enough, but there was malevolence in the swift expenditure of energy demanded. bellingham smiled again. "then you think it is inevitable that the end of man is--the clouds?" "the aspiration of the spirit, i should say, is to be relieved of feet of clay.... immortality in the body--that's an unbreakable paradox to me. i'm laminated, harveyized against anything except making a fine tentative instrument of the body." "you think, then, that the spirit grows as the body wastes?" "orientals have encountered starvation with astonishing results to philosophy," charter remarked. "but i was thinking only of a body firmly helmed by a clean mind. the best i have within me declares that the fleshly wrapping becomes at the end but a cumbering cerement; that through life, it is a spirit-vault. when i pamper the body, following its fitful and imperious appetites, i surely stiffen the seals of the vault. in my hours in which the senses are dominant the spirit shrinks in abhorrence; just as it thrills, warms and expands in rarer moments of nobility." "then the old martyrs and saints who macerated themselves wove great folds of spirit?" the inconsequential manner of the question urged charter to greater effort to detach, if possible, for a moment at least, the other's ego. "in ideal," he went on, "i should be as careless of food as thoreau, as careless of physical pain as suso. as for the reproductive devil incarnated in man--it, and all its ramifications, since the most delicate and delightful of these so often betray--i should encase in the coldest steel of repression----" "you say, in ideal," bellingham ventured quietly. "... but are not these great forces splendid fuel for the mind? prodigious mental workers have said so." "a common view," said charter, who regarded the remark as characteristic. "certain mental workers are fond of expressing this. you hear it everywhere with a sort of 'eureka.' strength of the loins is but a coarse inflammation to the mind. a man may use such excess strength, earned by continence, in the production of exotics, feverish lyrics, and in depicting summer passions, but the truth is, that so long as that force is not censored, shriven and sterilized--it is the same jungle pestilence, and will color the mind with impurity. it is much better where it belongs--than in the mind." "you do not believe in the wild torrents, the forked lightnings, and the shocking thunders of the poets?" "i like the calm, conquering voices of the prophets better.... immortality of the body?... there can be no immortality in a substance which earth attracts. we have vast and violent lessons to learn in the flesh; lessons which can be learned only in the flesh, because it is a matrix for the integration of spirit. it appears to me that, in due time, man reaches a period when he balances in the attractions--between the weight of the body and the lifting of the soul. this is the result of a slow, refining process that has endured through all time. reincarnation is the best theory i know for the process. that there is an upward tendency driving the universe, seems to be the only cause and justification for creating. devolution cannot be at the centre of such a system.... the body becomes more and more a spotless garment for the soul; soul-light more and more electrifies it; the elimination of carnality in thought may even render the body delicate and transparent, but it is a matrix still, and falls away--when one's full-formed wings no longer need the weight of a thorax----" "what an expression!" bellingham observed abruptly. he had been staring away toward a low, cloudy film of land in the south. one would have thought that he had heard only the sentence which aroused his comment. charter was filling with violence. the man's vanity was chained to him like a corpse. this experience of pouring out energy to no purpose aroused in charter all the forces which had combined to force the public to his work. the thought came that bellingham was so accustomed to direct the speech and thought of others, mainly women, that he had lost the listening faculty. "let me express it, then," charter declared with his stoutest repression, "that this beautiful surviving element, having finished with the flesh, knows only the attraction of light. it is the perfect flower of ages of earth-culture, exquisite and inimitable from the weathering centuries, and is radiant for a higher destiny than a cooling planet's crust----" "my dear young man, you speak very clearly, prettily, and not without force, i may say,--a purely platonistic gospel." charter's mental current was turned off for a second. true or false, the remark was eminently effective. a great man might have said it, or a dilettante. "in which case, i have a firm foundation." "but i am essentially of the moderns," said bellingham. "perhaps i should have known that from your first remark--about the brown bodies of the islanders, rejoicing in the sunlight and bathing in these jewelled seas." "ah, yes----" the softening of bellingham's mouth, as he recalled his own words, injected fresh stimulant into the animus of the other. as charter feared the eyes, so he had come to loathe the mouth, though he was not pleased with the intensity of his feelings. "do you honestly believe that--that which feels the attraction of earth, and becomes a part of earth after death--is the stuff of immortality?" he demanded. "by marvellous processes of prolongation and refinement--and barring accident--yes." "processes which these poor islanders could understand?" "we are moving in a circle," bellingham said hastily. for the first moment, charter felt the whip-hand over his own faculties. "i've noted the great, modern tendency to preach _body_," he said, inhaling a big breath of the fragrant air, "to make a religion of bodily health--to look for elemental truth in alimentary canals; to mix prayer with carnal subterfuge and heaven with health resorts. better phallicism bare-faced.... i read a tract recently written by one of these body-worshippers--the smug, black devil. it made me feel just as i did when i found a doctor book in the attic once, at the age of ten.... whatever i may be, have done, may feel, dream or think below the diaphragm--hasn't anything to do with my religion. i believe in health, as in a good horse or a good typewriter, but my body's health is not going to rule my day." "you are young--to have become chilled by such polar blasts," bellingham said uneasily, for he now found the other's eyes but without result. "i came into the world with a full quiver of red passions," charter said wearily, yet strangely glad. "the quiver is not empty. i do not say that i wish it were, but i have this to declare: i do not relish being told how to play with the barbs; how to polish and point and delight in them; how to put them back more deadly poisoned. i think there are big blankets of mercy for a natural voluptuary--for the things done when tissues are aflame--but for the man who deliberately studies to recreate them without cost, and tells others of his experiments--frankly, i believe in hell for such men-maggots. oblivion is too sweet. the essence of my hatred for these bodyists is because of the poison they infuse into the minds of youths and maidens, whose character-skeletons are still rubbery.... but let such teachers purr, wriggle, and dilate--for they're going back right speedily to the vipers!" bellingham's eyes had been lost in the south. he turned, arose, and after a pause said lightly, "your talk is strong meat, young man.... i--i suffered a serious accident some months ago and cannot stay too long in one place. we shall talk again. how far do you go with the _panther_?" "saint pierre." charter already felt the first pangs of reaction. his vehemence, the burn of temper for himself, in that he had allowed the other's personality to prey upon him, and the unwonted aggressiveness of his talk--all assumed an evil aspect now as he perceived the occultist's ghastly face. in rising, bellingham seemed to have stirred within himself centres of unutterable torture. his look suggested one who has been drilled in dreadful arcanums of pain, unapproached by ordinary men. "i think i must have been pent a long time," charter said in his trouble. "perhaps, i'm a little afraid of myself and was rehearsing a warning for the strength of my own bridle-arm--since we're swinging down into these isles of seduction." "you'll find a more comfortable coolness with the years, i think, and cease to abhor your bounding physical vitality. remember, 'jesus came eating and drinking----'" charter started under the touch of the old iron. "but 'wisdom is justified of all her children,'" he responded quickly. they were at the door of bellingham's cabin, which was forward on the promenade. the doctor laughed harshly as he turned the key. "i see you have your scriptures, too," he said. "we must talk again." "how far do you go with the _panther_?" charter asked, drawing away. his eyes had filled for a second, as the door swung open, with the photograph of a strangely charming young woman within the cabin. "i have not decided--possibly on to south america." charter felt as he walked alone that he had shown his youth, even a pertness of youth. he recalled that he had done almost all the talking; that he had felt the combativeness of a boy who scents a rival from another school--quite ridiculous. moreover, he was weary, as if one of his furious seasons of work had just ended--that rare and excellent kind of work which gathers about itself an elemental force to drive the mind as with fire until the course is run.... he did not encounter bellingham during the rest of the voyage. long before dawn the _panther_ gained the harbor before saint pierre, and charter awoke to the consciousness of a disorder in the air. alone on deck, while the night was being driven back over the rising land, he was delighted to pick out the writhing letters of gold, "_saragossa_," through the smoky gray, a few furlongs to the south. peter stock, an acquaintance from a former call at saint pierre, had become a solid and fruitful memory.... father fontanel was found early, where the suffering was greatest in the city. the old eyes lit with gladness as he caught charter with both hands, and murmured something as his gaze sank into the eyes of the younger man--something which charter did not exactly understand, about wolves being slain. "what have you been doing with old man pelée, father? we heard him groaning in the night, and the town is fetid with his sickness." "ah, my son, i am afraid!" had all the seismologists of civilization gathered in saint pierre, and uttered a verdict that the volcano was an imminent menace, charter would not have turned a more serious look at pelée than he did that moment.... at the _palms_, he found peter stock and a joyous welcome. they arranged for luncheon together, and the capitalist hurried down into the city.... that proved a memorable luncheon, since peter stock at the last moment persuaded miss wyndam to join them. charter was disturbed with the thought that he had seen her before; and amazed that he could have forgotten where. he could only put it far back among the phantasmagoria of drinking days. certainly the sane, restored charter had never met this woman and forgotten. his veins were dilated as by a miraculous wine. "the name is new to me, but i seem to have seen you somewhere, miss wyndam," he declared. "that's the second time you've said that, young man," mr. stock remarked. "don't your sentences register?" "it's always bewildering--i know how mr. charter feels," paula managed to say. "i'm quite sure we were never introduced, though i know mr. charter's work." "that's good of you, indeed," he said. "i don't mean--to know my work--but to help me out with friend stock. it is bewildering that i have forgotten. i feel like a boy in an enchanted forest. pelée has been working wonders all day." "i can't follow you," the capitalist sighed. "your sentences are puckered." they hardly heard him. paula, holding fast with all her strength to the part she had planned to play, sensed charter's blind emotion, distinct from her own series of shocks. to her it was that furious moment of adjustment, when a man and his ideal meet for the first time in a woman's heart. as for this heart, she feared they would hear its beating. instantly, she knew that he had not come to saint pierre expecting to find her; knew that she was flooding into his subconsciousness--that he felt _worlds_ and could not understand. she found the boy in his eyes--the boy of his old picture--and the deep lines and the white skin of a man who has lived clean, and the brow of a man who has thought many clean things. he was thinking of the skylark, and "wyndam" disturbed him.... always when he hesitated in his speech, the right word sprang to her lips to help him. she caught the very processes of his thinking; his remoteness from the thought of food, was her own.... for hours, since she had heard his voice below, paula had paced the floor of her room, planning to keep her secret long. she would play and watch his struggle to remember the skylark; she would weigh the forces of the conflict, stimulate it; study him among men, in the presence of suffering, and in the dread of the mountain. all this she had planned, but now her whole heart went out to the boy in his eyes--the boy that smiled. all the doubts which at best she had hoped for the coming days to banish were erased in a moment; she even believed in its fullness the letter from selma cross--because he was embarrassed, brimming with emotions he could not understand, quite as the boy of her dreams would be. she lived full-length in his silences, hardly dared to look at him now, for she felt his constant gaze. she knew that she was colorless, but that her eyes were filled with light.... presently she realized that they were talking of father fontanel. "he's a good old man," said peter stock. "he works day and night--and refuses to call it work. just think of having a servant with a god like father fontanel's to make work easy!" "he's even a little bit sorry for pelée," charter said. "i'm never quite the same in saint pierre. many times up in the states, i ask myself, if it isn't largely in my mind about father fontanel's spirit and his effect upon me. it isn't. stronger than ever it came to me this morning. you know him?" he turned the last to the woman. "yes, i found him down on the water-front----" "and brought him to me," said mr. stock, and added: "you know what bothered me about priests so long--they seem to have it all settled between them that theirs is the only true air-line limited to god. fontanel's down in the lowlands, where life is pent and cruel, where there are weak sisters and little ones who have to be helped over hard ways--that's what gets peter stock." "you don't know how good that is to hear," paula said softly. "i have thought it, too, about some men in holy orders--black figures moving along in a 'grim, unfraternal' indian file, with their eyes so occupied in keeping their feet from breaking fresh ground--that it seems they must sometimes lose the summit." charter looked from one to the other. peter stock regarded their plates. paula made a quick pretense of eating, and was grateful when charter broke the silence: "yes, father fontanel has found one of the trails to the top--one of the happy ones. sometimes i think there are just as many trails, as an ant could find to the top of an apple. wayfarers go a-singing on father fontanel's trail--eyes warm with soft skies and untellable dreams. it's a way of fineness and loving-kindness----" mr. stock had risen from the table and moved to a window which faced the north. all was vague about them. paula had been carried by charter's voice toward far-shining mountains.... in the silence, she met the strange, steady eyes of _the boy_, and looked away to find that the room had darkened. "it is getting dark," he said. she would have said it, if he hadn't. the mountain rumbled. "the north is a mass of swirling grays and blacks," peter stock announced from the window. "it isn't a thunderstorm----" a sharp detonation cleaved the darkening air, and from the rear of the house the answer issued--quavering cries of children, sharp calling of mothers, and the sullen undertone of men. a subdued drumming came from the north now, completing the tossing currents of sound about the house. the dismal bellowing of cattle and the stamping of ponies was heard from the barns. all this was wiped out by a series of terrific crashes, and the floor stirred as if intaking a deep breath. the dining-room filled with a crying, crouching gray-lipped throng of servants. a deluge of ash complicated the half-night outside, and the curse of sulphur pressed down. paula arose. charter had taken his place close beside her, but spoke no word. twentieth chapter charter's mind becomes the arena of conflict between the wyndam woman and skylark memories in the _rue rivoli_ there was a little stone wine-shop. the street was short, narrow, crooked, and ill-paved--a cleft in saint pierre's terrace-work. just across from the vault-like entrance to the shop, the white, scarred cliff arose to another flight of the city. between the shop and the living-rooms behind there was a little court, shaded by mango-trees. dwarfed banana-shrubs flourished in the shade of the mangoes, and singing-birds were caged in the lower foliage. since the sun could find no entrance, the wine-shop was dark as a cave, and as cool. one window, if an aperture like the clean wound of a thirteen-inch gun could be called a window, opened to the north; and from it, by the grace of a crook in the _rue rivoli_, might be seen the mighty-calibred cone of pelée. pere rabeaut's wine was very good, and some of it was very cheap. the service was much as you made it, for if you were known you were permitted to help yourself. in this world there was no one of station too lofty to go to pere rabeaut's; and since those of no station whatsoever drank rum, instead of wine, you would meet no one there to whom it was not a privilege to say "_bon jour_." "come and see my birds," the crafty rabeaut would say if he approved of you. "where do you live?" you might ask, being a stranger. "in the coolest hovel of saint pierre," was his invariable answer. and presently, if you were truly alive, you would find yourself in the little stone wine-shop, listening to the birds and looking over the stalled casks, demijohns, and bottles, filled with more or less concentrated soil and sun. in due course, soronia would appear in the shadowy doorway (it would seem that the bird-songs were hushed as she crossed the court), and she would show you a vintage of especially long ago. after that, though you became a missionary in shantung, or a remittance-man in tahiti, you would never forget the bouquet of the rabeaut wines, the cantatas of the canaries, nor the witchery of soronia's eyes.... if the little stone wine-shop were transplanted in new york, artists would find it, and you would be forced to fetch your own goblet and have difficulty in getting in and out for the crowd o' nights. thither charter went the next morning and sat down in the cherished coolness. peter stock had reminded him of their former talks there, over a particular wine of epernay, and had arranged to meet him this morning.... in the foreground of charter's mind a gritty depression had settled, but throughout the finer, farther consciousness, where realities abide, there hung a mystic constellation, which every little while (and with a shock of ecstasy, so wonderful that his _mere_ brain was alarmed and called it scandalous), fused together into a great, glowing ardent star of bethlehem.... again, the _mere_ brain said: "what have you done with your three years? the actress knew you better than you knew yourself. all your letters, and the spirit of your letters, have fallen into ruin before the first woman you meet down here in a dreamy, tropic isle. how can you--you, who have lived truly for a little while, and seemed to have felt the love that lifts--sink into the fragrant meshes of romance, through the beautiful eyes of a stranger to your world and to your ways? and what of skylark, the lovely, the winged?..." and the soul of the man riding at its moorings in the bright calm of wisdom's anchorage, made laughing answer: "this is the skylark--ah, not that wyndam is linster,--but this is the veiled queen who has waited so long for the house of charter to be ready. this is the forever-fairy that puzzled the nights and mornings of the long-ago charter boy. it was her wing that held the last dart of light in the gardens of boyhood before the frowning thunders came. it was her songs that made the youth's mind magic with lyrics, certain ones so very clear that they fitted into words. it was to find her dazzling brow that lured him to prodigious wanderings, until he fell fainting in the dust of other women's chariots. it was the rustling of her wings that he heard from without, when he lay in the caverns of devouring, where the twain, flesh and death, hold ghastly carnival; the flash of her wings again that lifted his eyes to the rising road. it was her spirit in the splendid east whose miracles of singing and shining made glorious, with creative touch, his hours by the garret window.... it was she of exquisite shoulder and starry eyes and radiant sympathies--before whom the boy, the man and the spirit, bowed in thankfulness yesterday...." and so he sat there thinking, thinking,--glimpsing the errant centuries in the same high light of memory that this very morning recurred--an hour or two ago, when he had walked with her through the mango-grove in the coolness following a dawn-shower that had washed the white weight of pelée's ash-winter from the trees.... "what a chaos i must be," he murmured in dull anguish, "with the finest of my life plighted to a vision that is lost--while i linger desolate in the presence of wondrous reality!" ... some one was moving and whispering in the little room across the court of the song-birds.... peter stock entered, his white hair and mustache dulled with ash; his eyes red and angry. "well, i think i've got father fontanel frightened," he said, sinking down across the little round table. "he's telling the people to shut up their houses and go to fort de france. sixty or seventy have started, and many more have gone up to morne rouge and ajoupa boullion, where it happens to be cool, though they're just as close to the craters. fontanel has come into a very proper spirit of respect for pelée's destructive capacity. by the way, did you hear what happened yesterday, during the darkness and racket while we were at dinner?" "not definitely. tell me," charter urged. "the extreme northern end of the city, or part of it, was flooded out like an ant-hill under a kettle boiling over. the river _blanche_ overflowed her banks, and ran with boiling mud from the volcano. thirty people were killed and the usine guerin destroyed." "i didn't think it was so bad as that." "i hope i'm wrong, but the guerin disaster may be only a preliminary demonstration--like the operator experimenting to find if it is dark enough to start the main fireworks. nobody can complain to saint peter that pelée hasn't warned." "there's another way to look at it," charter said. "the volcano's overflow into the river _blanche_ might have eased the pressure upon the craters. i wonder if there is any authority or precedent for such a hope?" "if pelée's fuse is burning shorter and shorter toward a krakatoan cataclysm," peter stock declared moodily, "it's not for man to say what spark will shake the world.... i tried to see mondet this morning--but couldn't get in. you wouldn't think one white, small person could contain so much poison. i am haunted with the desire to commit physical depredations." "i think i'll take a little journey up toward the craters to-morrow," charter confided, after a moment. "they say that the weather is quiet and clean to the north of the mountain. one might ride up and try to reason with _pere pelée_----" at this juncture soronia entered the wine-shop from the little court, to fill the eyes and the goblets of the americans. a dark, ardent, alluring face; flesh like dull gold, made wonderful by the faintest tints of ripe fruit; eyes that could melt and burn and laugh; a fragile figure, but radiantly abloom, and as worthily draped as a young palm in a richly blossoming vine. she made one think of a strange, regal flower, an experiment of nature, wrought in the most sumptuous shadow of a tropic garden.... she was gone. charter laughed at the drained look in peter stock's face. "an orchid----" the latter began. "or a sunlit cathedral window." "will the visitation be repeated? do i wake or sleep?" "the years have dealt artistically in the little wine-shop," said charter. "they say old pere rabeaut married a _fille de couleur_--daughter of a former governor-general of martinique." "some daphne of the islands, she must have been, since pere rabeaut does not seem designed to father a sunset.... it's my first glimpse of soronia this voyage. she was beautiful in a girlish way last year.... she's in love, or she couldn't glow like that. i met pere rabeaut down in the city----" charter arose. "perhaps the lover is across the court. i heard a whispering through the bird-songs--and one could not fail to note how she hurried back.... i must go on. the water is no better here than elsewhere." "but the wine is," said peter stock. "wait luncheon for me at the _palms_.... by the way, how'd you like to take a little cruise--feel the _saragossa_ under you, running like a scared deer to hitch herself to the solid old horn, built of rock and sealed with icebergs----" "a clean thought, in this air--but the eventualities here attract. when father fontanel grows afraid for the city, well, it may not be scientific, but it's ominous.... i wanted to ask if it ever occurred to you that even the _morne d'orange_ might fall into the sweeping range of pelée's guns?" "in other words--if the mountain won't recede from miss wyndam, we'd better snatch up miss wyndam and make a getaway from the mountain?" from far within a "yea" was acclaimed, yet there was a sullen charter integrity which had given its word to skylark, and feared the test of being shut on the same ship with a woman who endowed him with such power that he felt potent to go to the craters and remonstrate with the monster. "it might be well to ask her," charter replied gloomily, "but i'm rather absorbed in the action here and father fontanel's work. i want to look at the craters from behind----" "twice you've said that," said peter stock, "and each time it reminds me that i'm old, yet there's a lure about it. i'm thinking----" their heads were together at the little round window for the mountain had rumbled again, and they stared beyond the city into the ashen shroud. "grand old martyr," charter muttered, "hang on, hang on!... the flag of truce still flies." * * * * * paula at the _palms_ reflected the charter conflict that morning. she had seen it in his eyes and felt it in his heart, as they had walked together in the mock-winter of the mango-grove before breakfast. away from him now, however, she could not be sure that "wyndam," representing the woman, altogether satisfied his vision of skylark. very strange, he was, in his struggling, and it became harder, and a more delicate thing than she had believed, to say, "i am paula linster." she had felt this great restlessness of his spirit vaguely in the early letters--a stormy, battling spirit which his brain constantly labored to interpret. she had seen his moments of calm, too, when the eyes and smile of the boy rendered his attractions so intimate to her, that she could have told him anything--but these calms did not endure even in her presence. she did not want the woman, wyndam, despised, nor yet the skylark put from him. it became a reality, that out of his struggle truth would rise; meanwhile, though not with the entire sanction of a certain inner voice, she withheld her secret, remaining silent and watchful in the midst of the greatest drama the world could bring to her understanding.... paula did not fail to note that peter stock was somewhat surprised when she refused for the present his invitation to spend the nights at least out in the cool caribbean. she saw, moreover, that quentin charter was beginning to fear the mountain, because she remained at the _palms_. indeed, it was hard for all to remember that in form, at least, they were mere acquaintances, so familiar had they become to each other in the pressure of pelée. above all this, she was almost continually conscious of bellingham since the receipt of madame nestor's letter. it was not that his power was formidable enough to disorder the unfolding of the drama, but she felt his nearness, his strategies--all the more strange, as there had been no sign of him since the arrival of the _panther_. if for no other reason, she would have found it difficult to disclose her real name to quentin charter, while her mind was even distantly the prey of the black giant. these were tremendous hours--when but a word from her withheld two hearts from bursting into anthems. bravely, she gloried in these last great refinings--longings, fears, exaltations, but never was she without the loftiest hope of her life. the man who had come was so much that _the man_ should be. she saw his former years as the wobblings of a top that has not yet gained its momentum. only at its highest speed does the top sing its peace with god.... had not the finest glow of his powers been reserved until her coming?... in such moments as these, she could look back upon her own agonies with gratitude. she had needed a bellingham. should she not be thankful that a beyond-devil had been required to test her soul? in the splendid renewals of her spirit, paula felt that she could look into the magician's eyes now and command him from her. she was even grateful that she had been swept in the fury of the high tide, nor would she have had that supreme night of trial when she fled from the _zoroaster_, stricken from her past. just as quentin charter, of the terrible thirsts, had required his years of wrath and wandering, so her soul had needed the test of a woman's revelations and man's sublimated passion. deep within lived a majestic happiness--earned. at one o'clock, as she was going below for luncheon, the sun gave up trying to shine through the ash-fog, but volumes of dreadful heat found the earth. the _saragossa_ was invisible in the roadstead; there was no line dividing shore and sea, nor sea and sky. it was all an illimitable mask, whose fabric was the dust which for centuries had lain upon the dynamos of pelée. twenty-first chapter charter communes with the wyndam woman, and confesses the great trouble of his heart to father fontanel "do you know what i discovered this morning?" peter stock asked, after the three had found a table together. "m. mondet is trying to keep the people in town for political reasons. it appears that there is to be an election in a few days. all my efforts, and, by non-parishioners, the efforts of father fontanel, are regarded as a political counter-stroke--to rush a certain element of the suffrage out of the town.... this is certainly ash-wednesday, isn't it?" charter laughed. "my theory that the guerin disaster might relieve the craters and give surcease to saint pierre--doesn't seem to work out. the air is getting thicker, even." "it isn't really ash, you know," explained mr. stock, "but rock, ground fine as neat in the hell-mills under the mountain and shot out by steam through pelée's valves----" "intensely graphic," said paula. "it has been rather a graphic morning," charter remarked. "friend stock is virile from his activities with father fontanel." "well, i didn't make a covenant with the mountain--as you did this morning in the wine-shop. you should have seen him, miss wyndam, staring away at the volcano and, muttering, 'hang on, old chap, hang on!....' my dear young woman, doesn't a ride on the ocean sound good for this afternoon? you can sit on deck and hold the little black babies. the _saragossa_ takes another load to fort de france in two or three hours." she shook her head. "not just yet. you don't realize how wonderful the drama is to me--you and father fontanel, playing cassandra down in the city--the groaning mountain, and the pity of it all. i confess a little inconvenience of the weather isn't enough to drive me out. it isn't very often given to a woman to watch the operations of a destiny so big as this." the capitalist turned to charter. "you know empress josephine was born in martinique and has become a sort of patron saint for the island. a beautiful statue of her stands in the square at fort de france where our refugees are encamped. i was only thinking that the map of europe and the history of france might have been altered greatly if our beloved josephine had been gifted with a will like this--of miss wyndam's." her pale, searching face regarded charter for a second, and his eyes said plainly as words, "don't you think you'd better consider this more seriously?" "maybe you'll like the idea better for the evening, when the _saragossa_ is back in the roadstead again, comparatively empty," peter stock added presently. "father fontanel and i have a lot to do in the meantime. can you imagine our first parents occupying themselves when the first tornado was swooping down--our dear initial mother, surpassingly wind-blown, driving the geese to shelter, propping up the orchards, getting out the rain-barrels, and tightening tent-pins?" "vividly," said paula. "that's just how busy we are--father fontanel and i." it was to be expected that a sophomoric pointlessness should characterize the sayings of the two in the midst of peter stock's masculinity and the thrilling magnitude of the marvel each was to the other.... they were left together presently, and the search for treasure began at once: "... the present is a time of readjustment between men and women," he was saying. "it seems to me that the great mistake people make--men and women alike--is that each sex tries to raise itself by lowering the other. it hardly could be any other way just now, and at first--with woman filled with the turmoil of emerging from ages of oppression--fighting back the old and fitting to the new. but in man and woman--not in either alone--lies completion. if the two do not quite complete each other, a third often springs from them with an increased spiritual development." "yes," she answered, leaning forward, her chin fitted to her palms. "the _i-am_ and the _you-are-not_ will soon be put away. i like to think of it--that man and woman are together in the complete human. there is a glorious, an arch-feminine ideal in the nature of the christ----" "even in the ineffable courage," he added softly. "that is woman's--the finer courage that never loses its tenderness.... his figure sometimes, as now, becomes an intimate passion to me----" "as if he were near?" "as if he were near--still loving, still mediating--all earth's struggle and anguish passing through him and becoming glorified with his pity and tenderness--before it reaches the eyes of the father.... there is no other way. man and woman must be one in two--before two in one. they must not war upon each other. woman is receptive; man the origin. woman is a planet cooled to support life; man, still an incandescent sun, generates the life." "that is clear and inspiring," she said. "i have always wanted it said just like that--that one is as important as the other in the evolution of the individual----" "and for that individual are swung the solar systems.... look at job--denuded of all but the spirit. there is an individual, and his story is the history of an initiation.... we are coming to a time when mind will operate in man and woman _conscious_ of the soul. when that time comes true, how the progress to god will be cleared and speeded! it will be a flight----" "instead of a crawl," she finished. they were alone in the big dining-room. their voices could not have reached the nearest empty table. it was like a communion--their first communion. "i have felt it," she went on in a strange, low tone, "and heard the new voices--preparers of the way. sometimes it came to me in new york--the stirring of a great, new spiritual life. i have felt the hunger--that awful hollowness in the breasts of men and women, who turn to each other in mute agony, who turn to a thousand foolish sensations--because they do not realize what they hunger for. their breasts cry out to be filled----" "and the spirit cries out to flood in." "yes, and the spirit asks only for earth-people to listen to their inner voices and love one another," she completed. "it demands no macerations, no fetters, no fearful austerities--only fineness and loving kindness." "how wonderfully they have come to me, too--those radiant moments--as i sat by my study window, facing the east," he whispered, not knowing what the last words meant to her. "how clear it is that all great and good things come with this soul-age--this soul-consciousness. i have seen in those lovely moments that mother earth is but one of many of god's gardens; that human life is but a day in a glorious culture-scheme which involves many brighter and brighter transplantings; that the radiance of the christ, our exemplar, but shows us the loveliness which shall be ours when we approach that lofty maturity of bloom----" a waiter entered with the word that a man from the city, pere rabeaut, desired to see mr. charter. each felt the dreadfulness of returning so abruptly to sordid exterior consciousness--each felt the gray ghost of pelée. "i shall go and see what is wanted, miss wyndam, and hurry back--if i may?" he said in a dull, tired tone. it was the first time he had said "wyndam," and it hurt cruelly at this moment.... "no, no," she said rising hastily. "it would spoil it to come back. we could not forget ourselves like that--so soon again. it always spoils--oh, what am i saying? i think our talk must have interested me very much." "i understand," he said gently. "but we shall talk again--and for this little hour, my whole heart rises to thank you." pere rabeaut was waiting upon the veranda. peculiarly, at this moment he seemed attached to the crook of wine-shop servitude, which charter had never noticed with such evidence among the familiar casks. moreover, disorder was written upon the gray face. "_mon dieu_, what a day, m. charter!--a day of judgment! soronia's little birds are dying!" charter regarded the sharp, black eyes, which darted over his own face, but would not be held in any gaze. "i heard from my daughter that you are going to the craters of the mountain," the old man said. "'he will need a guide,' said i at once. 'and guides are scarce just now, for the people are afraid of pelée. still, he's an old patron,' i said to soronia. 'he cannot go to the mountain without a guide, so i shall do this little thing for him. he must have our jacques.'" charter drew him away. he did not care to have it known at the _palms_ that he was projecting a trip to the summit. perhaps the inscrutable pere rabeaut was conferring a considerable favor. it was arranged that if he decided to make the journey, the american should call at the wine-shop for jacques early the following morning. pere rabeaut left him none the poorer for his queer errand. charter avoided miss wyndam for the rest of the day. beyond all the words of their little talk, had come to him a fullness of womanhood quite beyond the dreamer. as he remembered the lustrous face, the completion of his sentences, the mutual sustaining of their thoughts, their steady, tireless ascent beyond the need of words; as he remembered her calms, and the glimpses of cosmic consciousness, her grasp, her expression, her silences, the exquisite refinement of her face, and the lingering adoration in her eyes--the ideal of the skylark was so clearly and marvellously personified that for moments at a time the vision was lost in the living woman. and for this, quentin charter proposed to suffer--and to suffer alone. so he supped down-town, and waited for father fontanel at the parish-house. the priest came in during the evening and charter saw at once, what the other never could have admitted, that the last few days had borne the good man to the uttermost edges of his frail vitality. under the lamp, the beautiful old face had the whiteness of that virgin wax of italian hives in which the young queens lie until the hour of awakening. the tired, smiling eyes, deeply shadowed under a brow that was blest, gazed upon the young man with a light in his eyes not reflected from the lamp, but from his great love--in that pure fatherhood of celibacy.... "ah, no, i'm not weary, my son. we must have our walks and talks together on the _morne_ again.... when old father pelée rests once more from his travail, and the people are happy again, you and i shall walk under the stars, and you shall tell me of those glorious saints, who felt in the presence of god that they must put such violent constraint upon themselves.... when i think of my suffering people--it comes to me that the white ship was sent like a good angel--and how i thank that noble lady for taking me at once to this great rock of an american, who bluffs me about so cheerily and grants all things before they are asked. what wonderful people you are from america! but it is always so--always these good things come to me. indeed, i am very grateful.... weary?--what a poor old man i should be to fall weary in the midst of such helpers...." charter sat down beside him under the lamp and told him what an arena his mind had become for conflict between a woman and a vision. even with the writer's trained designing, the tale drew out with an oriental patience of weaving and coloring. charter had felt a woman's need for the ease of disclosure, and indeed there was no other man whom he would have told. he had a thought, too, that if by any chance pelée should intervene--both the woman and the skylark might learn. he did not tell of his plan to go to the mountain--lest he be dissuaded. in his mind the following day was set apart--as a sort of pilgrimage sacred to skylark. "old pelée has shadowed my mind," father fontanel said, when the story was done. "i see him before and between all things, but i shall meditate and tell you what seems best in my sight. only this, my son, you may know, that when first the noble lady filled my eyes--i felt you near her--as if she had come to me from you, whom i always loved to remember." charter bowed and went his way, troubled by the shadow of pelée in the holy man's mind; and yet glad, too, that the priest had felt him near when he first saw miss wyndam. it was late when he reached the _palms_ yet sleeplessness ranged through his mind, and he did not soon go to his room. the house and grounds were all his own. he paced the veranda, the garden paths and drives; crossed the shadowy lawns, brooded upon the rumbling mountain and the foggy moon high in the south.... at the side of the great house to the north, there was a trellis heavily burdened with lianas. within, he found the orifice of an old cistern, partially covered by unfixed planking. a startling thought caused him to wonder why he had not explored the place before. the moonlight, faint at best, gave but ghostly light through the foliage, yet he kicked away a board and lit a match. a heavy wooden bar crossed the rim and was set stoutly in the masonry. his mind keenly grasped each detail at the exterior. a rusty chain depended from the thick cross-piece. he dropped several ignited matches into the chamber. slabs of stone from the side-walls had fallen into the cistern, which seemed to contain little or no water.... from one of the native cabins came the sound of a dog barking. a shutter clicked in one of the upper windows of the plantation-house. twenty-second chapter charter makes a pilgrimage to the craters of _pelÉe_--one last day devoted to the spirit of old letters charter left the _palms_ early to join his guide at the wine-shop. he had kept apart from peter stock for two reasons. the old capitalist easily could have been tempted to accompany him. personally, charter did not consider a strong element of danger, and a glimpse into the volcano's mouth would give him a grasp and handling of the throes of a sick world, around which all natural phenomena would assume thereafter an admirable repression. to peter stock it would be an adventure, merely. more than all this, he wanted to go to the mountain alone. it was the skylark's day; and for this reason, he hurried out of the _palms_ and down to the city without breakfast.... a last look from the _morne_, as it dipped into the _rue victor hugo_--at a certain upper window of the plantation-house, where it seemed he was leaving all the bright valiant prodigies of the future. he turned resolutely toward pelée--but the skylark's song grew fainter _behind_. * * * * * pere rabeaut's interest in the venture continued to delight him. procuring a companion was no common favor, since inquiries in the town proved that the regular guides were in abject dread of approaching the monster now. soronia, pere rabeaut, and his new servant awaited him in the _rue rivoli_. the latter was a huge creole, of gloomy visage. they would not find any one to accompany them in the lower part of the city, he said, as the fear there was greater than ever since the guerin disaster. in morne rouge, however, they would doubtless be able to procure mules, food, and other servants if necessary, for a day's trip to the craters. all of which appeared reasonable to charter, though he wondered again at the vital interest of pere rabeaut, and the general tension of the starting. the two passed down through the city, and into the crowd of the market-place, where a blithesome little drama unfolded. peter stock had apparently been talking to the people about their volcano, urging them, no doubt, to take the advice of father fontanel and flee to fort de france, when he had perceived m. mondet passing in his carriage. charter saw his friend dart quickly from the crowd and seize the bridle. despite the protestations of the driver, the capitalist drew the vehicle into view of all. his face was red with the heat and ashine with laughter and perspiration. alarm and merriment mingled in the native throng. all eyes followed the towering figure of the american who now swung open the door of the carriage and bowed low to m. mondet. "this, dear friends," peter stock announced, as one would produce a rabbit from a silk hat,--"this, you all perceive, is your little editor of _les colonies_. is he not bright and clean and pretty? he is very fond of american humor. see how the little editor laughs!" m. mondet's smile was yellowish-gray and of sickly contour. his article relative to the american appealed to him now entirely stripped of the humor with which it was fraught a few days before, as he had composed it in the inner of inner-offices. this demon of crackling french and restless hands would stop at nothing. m. mondet pictured himself being picked up for dead presently. as the blow did not fall on the instant, the sorry thought tried him that he was to be played with before being dispatched. "this is the man who tells you that saint pierre is in no danger--who scoffs at those who have already gone--who inquires in his paper, 'where on the island could a more secure place than saint pierre be found in the event of an earthquake visitation?' m. mondet advises us to flee with all dispatch to the live craters of a volcano to escape his hypothetical earthquake." peter stock was now holding up the frenchman's arm, as a referee upraises the whip of a winning fighter. "he says there's no more peril from pelée than from an old man shaking ashes out of his pipe. i proposed to wager my ship against m. mondet's rolled-top desk that he was wrong, but there was a difficulty in the way. do you not see, my friends of saint pierre, that, if i won the wager, i should not be able to distinguish between m. mondet's rolled-top desk and m. mondet's cigarette case in the ruins of the city----" there had been a steady growling from the mountain. "ah!" stock exclaimed after a pause, "pelée speaks again! 'i will repay--verily, i will repay!' growls the monster. let it be so, then, friends of mine. i will turn over my little account to the big fire-eater yonder who will collect all debts. i tell you, we who tarry too long will be buying political extras and last editions in hell from this bit of a newspaper man!" charter laughingly turned away to avoid being seen, just as m. mondet was chucked like a large, soft bundle into the seat of his carriage and the door slammed forcibly, corking whatever wrath appertained. in any of the red-blooded zones, a foreigner who performed such antics at the expense of a portly and respected citizen would have encountered a quietus quick and blasting, but the people of martinique are not swift to anger nor forward in reprisal. charter's physical energy was imperious, but the numbness of his scalp was a pregnant warning against the perils of heat. there were moments in which his mind moved in a light, irresponsible fashion, as if obsessed at quick intervals, one after another, by mad kings who dared anything, and whom no one dared refuse. somehow his brain contrived with striking artifices to keep the wyndam-skylark conflict in the background; yet, as often as he became aware of old vulcan muttering his agonies ahead, just so often did the reality rise that the meaning and direction of his life was gone, if he was not to see again the woman at the _palms_. jacques, his guide, followed in sullen silence. they crossed the roxelane, and presently were ascending toward morne rouge. saint pierre was just still enough now to act like a vast sounding-board. remote voices reached them, even from the harbor-front to the left, and from shut shops everywhere.... it was nearly mid-day, when he rode out from morne rouge, with three more companions. the ash-hung valley was far behind, and charter drank deeply of the clean, east wind from the atlantic. there was a rush of bitterness, too, because the woman was not there to share these priceless volumes of sunlit vitality. all the impetus of enterprise was needed now to turn the point of conflict, and force it into the background again.... they pushed through ajoupa boullion to the gorge of the falaise, the northward bank of which marked the trail which jacques chose to the summit. and now they moved upward in the midst of the old glory of martinique. the brisk trades blowing evenly in the heights, wiped the eastern slope of the mountain clear of stone-dust and whipped the blasts of sulphur down into the valley toward the shore. green lakes of cane filled the valleys behind, and groves of cocoa-palms, so distant and so orderly that they looked like a city garden set with hen and chickens.... northward, through the rifts, glistened the sea, steel-blue and cool. before them rose the vast, green-clad mass of the mountain, its corona dim with smoke and lashed by storm. down in the southwest lay the ghastly pall, the hidden, tortured city, tranced under the cobra-head of the volcano and already laved in its poison. the trail became very steep at two thousand feet, and this fact, together with the back-thresh of the summit disturbance, forced charter to abandon the animals. it transpired that two of the three later guides felt it their duty, at this point, to stay behind with the mules. a little later, when the growling from the prone, upturned face of the monster suddenly arose to a roar that twisted the flesh and outraged the senses of man, charter looked back and found that only one native was faltering behind, instead of two. and this one was jacques, of the savage eyes. pere rabeaut was praised again. fascination for the dying thing took hold of him now and drew him on. charter was little conscious of fear for his life, but of a fixed terror lest he should be unable to go on. he found himself tearing up a handkerchief and stuffing the shreds in his ears to deaden the hideous vibrations. with the linen remaining, he filled his mouth, shutting his jaws together upon it, as the wheels of a wagon are blocked on an incline. the titanic disorder placated his own. he became unconscious of passing time. from the contour of the slope, remembered from a past visit, he was aware of nearing the _lac des palmists_, which marked the summit-level. yet changes, violent changes, were everywhere evidenced. the shoulder of the mountain was smeared with a crust of ash and seamed with fresh scars. the crust was made by the dry, whirling winds playing upon the paste formed of stone-dust and condensed steam. the clicking whir, like a clap of wings, heard at intervals, accounted for the scars. bombs of rock were being hurled from the great tubes. here he shouted to jacques to stay behind; that he would be back in a few moments. there was a nod of assent from the evil head. that he was in the range of a raking volcano-fire impressed with a sort of laughing awe this ant clinging to the beard of a giant. up, knees and hands, now, he crawled--up over the throbbing chin, to the black, pounded lip of the monster. out of the old lake coiled the furious tower of steam and rock-dust which mushroomed in high heaven, like a primal nebula from which worlds are made. it was this which fell upon the city. pockets of gas exploded in the heights, rending the periphery, as the veil of the temple was rent. only this horrible torrent spreading over saint pierre to witness, but sounds not meant for the ear of man, sounds which seemed to saw his skull in twain--the thundering engines of a planet. the rocky rim of the lake was hot to his hands and knees, but a moment more he lingered. a thought in his brain held him there with thrilling bands. it was only a plaything of mind--a vagary of altitude and immensity. "did ever the body of a man clog the crater of a live volcano?" was his irreverent query. "did ever suicidal genius conceive of corrupting such majesty of force with his pygmy purpose?" there he lay, sprawled at the edge of the universal mystery, at the secret-entrance to the chamber of earth's dynamos. the edge of the pit shook with the frightful work going on below, yet he was not slain. the torrent burst past and upward with a southward inclination, clean as a missing bullet. the bombs of rock canted out from sheer weight and fell behind. that which he comprehended--although his eyes saw only the gray, thundering cataclysm--was never before imagined in the mind of man. the gray blackened. the roar dwindled, and his senses reeled. with a rush of saliva, the linen dropped from his open mouth. charter was sure there was a gaping cleft in his skull, for he could feel the air blowing in and out, cold and colder. he tried to lift his hands to cover the sensitive wound, but they groped in vain for his head. with the icy draughts of air, he seemed to hear faintly his name falling upon bare ganglia. for a second he feared that the lower part of his body would not respond; that he was uncoupled like a beast whose spine is broken.... it was only a momentary overcoming of the gas, or altitude, or the dreadful disorder, or all three. yet he knew how he must turn back if he lived.... his name was called again. he thought it was the reaper, calling forth his ghost. "quentin charter! quentin charter!" then he saw the wyndam woman on the veranda of the _palms_, her face white with agony, her eyes straining toward him.... turning hastily--he missed death in a savage, sordid reality. jacques had crept upon him, a maniac in his eyes, dog's slaver on his lips. a rock twice as large as his head was upraised in both arms. with a muscular spasm one knows in a dream, charter's whole body united in a spring to the side--escaping the rock. jacques turned and fled like a goat, leaping from level to level. charter managed to follow. he felt weak and ill for the time, as though pelée had punished him for peering into matters which nature does not thank man for endeavoring to understand.... the three natives pressed about him far down on the slope. jacques had vanished. the sun was sinking seaward. charter mounted his mule, turning the recent incident over in his mind for the manieth time. his first thought had been that the indescribable gripping of the mountain had turned mad a decent servant, but this did not stand when he recalled how pere rabeaut had importuned him to accept jacques, and how the latter had fled from his _failure_. yet, so far as he could see, there was no reason in the world why a conspiracy to murder him should have origin in the little wine-shop of _rue rivoli_. it was all baffling even at first, that a rock had been chosen, when a knife or a pistol would have been effective. this latter, he explained presently. there was a possibility of his body being found; a smashed head would fall to the blame of _pere pelée_, who was casting bombs of rock upon the slopes; while a knife or a bullet-wound on his body would start the hounds indeed. he rode down the winding trail apart from the guides. darkness was beginning, and the lights of ajoupa boullion showed ahead. the mountain carried on a frightful drumming behind. coiling masses of volcanic spume, miles above the craters, generated their own fire; and lit in the flashes, looked like billows of boiling steel. charter rode upon sheer nerve--nerve at which men had often wondered. at length a full-rigged thought sprang into his mind, which had known but the passing of hopeless derelicts since the first moment of descent. it was she who had called to save him. the woman of flesh had become a vision indeed. the little island mule felt the heel that moment.... charter turned back to the red moiled sky--a rolling, roaring hades in the north. "i can't help it, skylark," he murmured, "if you _will_ merge into this woman. she may never know that a man fled from her to the mountain to-day, and is hurrying back--as to the source of all beauty!... charter, charter, your thoughts are boiling over----" he rode into the streets of morne rouge, so over-crowded now with the frightened from the lower city, that many were huddled upon the highway where they would be forced to sleep. here he paid the three guides, but retained his mule.... on the down trail again, he re-entered the bank of falling ash and the sulphurous desolation. evil as it was, the taint brought a sense of proximity to the _morne_ and the _palms_. saint pierre was dark and harrowingly still under the throbbing volcano. the hoof-beats of the mule were muffled in ash, as if he pounded along a sandy beach. often a rousing fetor reached the nostrils of the rider, above the drying, cutting vapor from pelée, and the little beast shied and snorted at untoward humps on the highway. war and pestilence, seemingly, had stalked through saint pierre that day and a winter storm had tried to cover the aftermath.... he passed through _rue rivoli_, but was far too eager to reach the _palms_ to stop at the wine-shop. the ugly mystery there could be penetrated afterward. downward, he turned toward the next terrace, where the solitary figure of a woman confronted him. "mr. charter!" she cried. "and--you are able to ride?" "why, what do you mean, miss wyndam?" he said, swiftly dismounting. "what are you doing 'way up here alone--in this dreadful suffocation?" "i was looking for a little stone wine-shop----" she checked herself, a scroll of horrors spreading open in her brain. "it's just a little way back," he said, in a repressed tone. "i have an errand there, too. shall i show you?" "no," she answered shuddering. "i'll walk with you back to the _palms_. i must think.... oh, let us hurry!" he lifted her to the saddle, and took the bridle-rein. twenty-third chapter charter and stock are called to the priest's house in the night, and the wyndam woman stays at the _palms_ peter stock was abroad in the _palms_ shortly after charter left for the wine-shop to join jacques, for the day's trip. the absence of the younger man reminded him of the project charter had twice mentioned in the wine-shop. "i can't quite understand it," he said to miss wyndam as he started for the city, "if he really has gone to the craters. he had me thinking it over--about going along. why should he rush off alone? i tell you, it's not like him. the boy's troubled--got some of the groan-stuff of pelée in his vitals." the day began badly for paula. her mind assumed the old dread receptivity which the occultist had found to his advantage; terrors flocked in as the hours drew on. one pays for being responsive to the finer textures of life. under the stimulus of heat, good steel becomes radiant with an activity destructive to itself, but quite as marvellous in its way as the starry heavens. what a superior and admirable endowment, this, though it consumes, compared to the dead asbestos-fabric which will not warm. paula felt the city in her breast that day--the restless, fevered cries of children and the answering maternal anguish, the terror everywhere, even in bird-cries and limping animals--that cosmic sympathy. she knew that charter would not have rushed away to the mountain without a "good morning" for her, had she told him yesterday. she saw him turn upon the _morne_, look steadily at her window, almost as if he saw the outline of her figure there--as the call went to him from her inner heart.... she had reconstructed his last week in new york, from the letter of selma cross and his own; and in her sight he had achieved a finer thing than any warrior who ever broadened the borders of his queen. not a word from her; encountering a mysterious suspicion from reifferscheid; avoiding selma cross by his word and her own; vanquishing, who may know how many devils of his own past; and then summoning the courage and gentleness to write such a letter as she had received--a letter sent out into the dark--this was loyalty and courage to woo the soul. with such a spirit, she could tramp the world's highway with bruised feet, but a singing heart.... and only such a spirit could be true to skylark; for she knew as "wyndam" she had quickened him for all time, though he ran from her--to commune with pelée. she felt his strength--strength of man such as maidens dream of, and, maturing, put their dreams away. "... as i sat by my study window, facing the east!" well she knew those words from his letters; and they came to her now, from the talk of yesterday in the high light of an angelic visitation. always in memory the dining-room at the _palms_ would have an occult fragrance, for she saw his great love for skylark there, as he spoke of "facing the east." how soon could she have told him after that, but for the evil old french face that drew him away.... "you deserve to suffer, paula linster," she whispered. "you let him go away,--without a tithe of your secret, or a morsel of your mercy." inevitable before such a conception of manhood--paula feared her unworthiness. she saw herself back in new york, faltering under the power of bellingham; swayed by those specialists, reifferscheid in books, madame nestor in occultism; and, above all blame-worthily, by selma cross of the passions. she seemed always to have been listening. selma cross had been strong enough to destroy her tower; and this, when the actress herself had been so little sure of her statements that she must needs call charter to prove them. nothing that she had done seemed to carry the stamina of decision.... so the self-arraignment thickened and tightened about her, until she cried out: "but i would have told him yesterday--had not that old man called him away!" peter stock returned at noon, imploring her to go out to the ship, for even on the _morne_, pelée had become a plague. he pointed out that she was practically alone in the _palms_; that nearly all of father fontanel's parishioners had taken his word and left for fort de france or morne rouge, at least; that he, peter stock, was a very old man who had earned the right to be fond of whom he pleased, and that it seriously injured an old man's health when he couldn't have his way. "there are big reasons for me to stay here to-day--big only to me," she told him. "if i had known you for years, i couldn't be more assured of your kindness, nor more willing to avail myself of it, but please trust me to know best to-day. possibly to-morrow." so the american left her, complaining that she was quite as inscrutable as charter.... an hour or more later, as she was watching the mountain from her room, a little black carriage stopped before the gate of the _palms_, and father fontanel stepped slowly out. she hurried downstairs, met him at the door, and saw the rare old face in its great weariness. "you have given too much strength to your work, father," she said, putting her arm about him and helping him toward the sitting-room. "i am quite well," he panted. "i was among my people in the city, when our amazing friend suddenly appeared with a carriage, bustled me in and sent me here, saying there were enough people in saint pierre who refused to obey him, and that he didn't propose that i should be one." "i think he did very well," she answered, laughing. "what must it be down in the city--when we suffer so here? we cannot do without you----" "but there is great work for me--the great work i have always asked for. believe me, i do not suffer." "one must not labor until he falls and dies, father." "if it be the will of the good god, i ask nothing fairer than to fall in his service. death is only terrible from afar off in youth, my dear child. when we are old and perceive the glories of the reality, we are prone to forget the illusion here. in remembering immortality, we forget the cares and ills of flesh.... i am only troubled for my people, stifling in the gray curse of the city, and for my brave young friend. my mind was clouded when he asked me certain questions last night; and to-day, they say he has gone to the craters of the mountain." "what for?" she whispered quickly. "ah, how should i know? but he tells me of people who make pilgrimages of sanctification to strange cities of the east--to mecca and benares----" "but they go to benares to die, father!" "i did not know, my daughter," he assured her, drawing his hand across his brow in a troubled fashion. "he has not gone to the mountain for that, though i see storms gathering about him, storms of the mountain and hatreds of men. but i see you with him afterward--as i saw him with you--when you first spoke to me." she told him all, and found healing in the old man's smile. "it is well, and it is wonderful," he whispered at last. "much that my life has misunderstood is made clear to me--by this love of yours and his----" "'and his,' father?" "yes." there was silence. she would not ask if quentin charter had also told his story. father fontanel arose and said he must go back, but he took the girl's hands, looked deeply into her eyes, saying with memorable gentleness: "listen, child,--the man who cannot forget a vision that is lost, will be a brave mate for the envisioned reality that he finds." at intervals all that afternoon she felt the influence of bellingham. it was not desire. dull and impersonal, it appealed, as one might hear a child in another house repeatedly calling to its mother. within her there was no response, save that of loathing for a spectre that rises untimely from a past long since expiated. she did not ask herself whether she was lifted beyond him, or whether he was debased and weakened, or if he really called with the old intensity. glimpses of the strange place in which he lodged occasionally flashed before her inner mind, but it was all far and indefinite, easily to be banished. to her, he had become inextricable from the reptiles. there was so much of living fear and greater glory in her mind that afternoon, that these were but evil shadows of slight account. the torturing hours crawled by, until the day turned to a deeper gray, and the north was reddened by pelée's cone which the thick vapor dimmed and blurred. paula was suffered to fight out her battle alone. she could not have asked more than this. a thousand times she paced across her room; again and again straining her eyes northward, along the road, over the city into the darkness, and the end of all things--the mountain.... there was a moment in the half-light before the day was spent, in which she seemed to see quentin charter, as father fontanel had told her, hemmed in by all the storms and hates of the world. over the surface of her brain was a vivid track for flying futile agonies. the rumbling that had been incessant was punctuated at intervals now by an awesome and deeper vibration. altogether, the sound was like a steady stream of vehicles, certain ones heavier and moving more swiftly than others, pounding over a wooden bridge. to her, there was a pang in each phase of the volcano's activity, since quentin charter had gone up into that red roar.... she did not go down for dinner. when it was eight by her watch, she felt that she could not live, if he did not return before another hour. several minutes had passed when there was a tapping at her door, and paula answering, was confronted by a sumptuous figure of native womanhood. it was soronia. "mr. charter is at the wine-shop of pere rabeaut in _rue rivoli_," she said swiftly, hatefully, as though she had been forced to carry the message, and would not utter a word more than necessary. "he has been hurt--we do not think seriously--but he wants you to come to him at once." "thank you. i will go to him at once," paula said, turning to get her hat. "pere rabeaut's wine-shop in the _rue rivoli_?... you say he is not seriously hurt----" she had not turned five seconds from the door, but the woman was gone. there was much that was strange in this; many thoughts occurred apart from the central idea of glad obedience, and the fullness of gratitude in that pelée had not murdered him.... the _rue rivoli_ was a street of the terraces, she ascertained on the lower floor; also that it would be impossible to procure a carriage. mr. stock had been forced to buy one outright, her informer added, and to use one of his sailors for a driver.... so she set out alone and on foot, hurrying along the sea-road toward the slope where _rue victor hugo_ began. the strangeness of it all persistently imposed upon her mind, but was unreckonable, compared to the thought that quentin charter would not have called for her, had he been able to come. from this, the fear of a more serious wound than the woman had said, was inevitable. paula had suffered enough from doubting; none should mar her performance now. unerringly, the processes of mind throughout the day had borne her to such an action. she would have gone to any red-lit door of the torrid city.... vivid terrors of some dreadful crippling accident hurried her steps into running.... pelée, a baleful changing jewel in the black north, reminded her that charter would not have gone up to that sink of chaos, had she spoken the word yesterday. the thought of that wonderful hour brought back the brooding romance in tints almost ethereal. higher in her heart than he had reached in any moment of the day's fluctuations, the image of charter wounded, was upraised now and sustained, as she turned from _rue victor hugo_ into the smothering climb to the terraces. all she could feel was a prayer that he might live; all the trials and conflicts and hopes of the past six months hovered afar from this, like navies crippled in the roadstead.... she must be near the _rue rivoli_, she thought, suddenly facing an empty cliff. it was at this moment that she heard the soft foot-falls of a little native mule, and encountered quentin charter.... quickly out of the great gladness of the meeting arose the frightful possibilities from which she had just escaped. they were still too imminent to be banished from mind at once. again charter had saved her from the destroyer. she would have wept, had she ventured to speak as he lifted her into the saddle. charter was silent, too, for the time, trying to adjust and measure and proportion. constantly she kept her eyes upon him as he walked slightly ahead, for she needed this steady assurance that he was there and well. she felt her arms where his stiffened fingers had been, as he lifted her so easily upon the mule. she wanted to reach forward and touch his helmet. they had descended almost to _rue victor hugo_, when he said: "as i looked down the fiery throat of that dragon up there to-day, everything grew black and still for a minute, like a vacuum.... will you please tell me if i came back all right, or are we 'two hurrying shapes in twilight land--in no man's land?'" his amusing appeal righted her. "i have not heard of donkey shapes in twilight-land," she answered.... and then in the new silence she tried to bring her thoughts to the point of revelation, but she needed light for that--light in which to watch his face. moreover, revelations contained bellingham, and she was not quite ready to speak of this. it was dreadful to be forced to think of the occultist, when her heart cried out for another moment such as that of yesterday, in which she could watch his eyes and whisper, "i am very proud to be the skylark you treasure so...." "do you think it kind to frighten your friends?" she asked finally. "when they told me you had gone to the craters--it seemed such a reckless thing to do----" "you see, i rode around behind the mountain. it's very different to approach from the north. i wished you were there with me in the clean air. pelée's muzzle is turned toward the city----" "i sent you many cheers and high hopes--did they come?" "yes, more than you know----" he checked himself, not wishing to frighten her further with the story of jacques, "you said you were looking for the little wine-shop. did some one send for you?" "yes." "some one you know?" "they told me you were there--hurt. that's why i came, mr. charter." he drew up the mule and faced her. "i was there this morning, but not since.... there's something black about this. pere rabeaut was rather officious in furnishing a guide for me. i'd better find out----" "i don't want you to go back there to-night!" she said intensely. "i think we are both half-dead. i don't feel coherent at all. it has been a life--this day." "i am sorry to have made it harder for you. certainly i shall not add to your worry to-night. i was thinking, though, it's rather a serious thing to call you out alone at this hour, through a city disordered like this--in my name." "there's much need of a talk. we shall soon understand it all.... that must be mr. stock coming. he has the only carriage moving in saint pierre, they say." charter pulled the mule up on the walk to let the vehicle pass, but the capitalist saw them and called to his driver to stop. "well," he said gratefully, "i'm glad to get down to earth again. you two have had me soaring.... charter, you don't mean to tell me you called miss wyndam to meet you in the wine-shop?" "no. there's a little matter there which must be probed later. i had the good fortune to meet miss wyndam before she reached there." paula watched charter as he spoke. light from the carriage-lamp fell upon him. his white clothing was stained from the saddle, his hair and eyebrows whitened with dust. his eyes shone in a face haggard unto ghastliness. "i'd go there now," stock declared, after asking one or two questions further, "but i have to report with sorrow that father fontanel is in a very weak condition and has asked for you. i just came from the _palms_, hoping that you had returned, and learned that miss wyndam was mysteriously abroad. my idea is to make the good old man go out to the ship to-night. that's his only chance. he just shakes his head and smiles at me, when i start in to boss him, but i think he'll go for you. the little parish-house is like a shut-oven--literally smells of the burning.... the fact is, i'm getting panicky as an old brood-biddy, among all you wilful chicks.... miss wyndam has promised for to-morrow, however." her heart went out to the substantial friend he had proved to every one, though it was all but unthinkable to have quentin charter taken from the _palms_ that night. "i'll go with you at once, but we must see miss wyndam safely back.... she'll be more comfortable in the carriage with you, and we can hurry," charter declared. he held his arms to her and lifted her down. "how i pity you!" she whispered. "you are weary unto death, but i am so glad--so glad you are safely back from the mountain." "thank you.... you, too, are trembling with weariness. it would not do, not to go to father fontanel--would it?" "no, no!" at the hotel, charter took a few moments to put on fresh clothing. paula waited with peter stock on the lower floor until he appeared. the capitalist did not fail to see that they wanted a word together, and clattered forth to see the "pilot of his deep-sea hack." "you'd better go aboard to-morrow morning," charter said. "yes, to-morrow, possibly,--we shall know then. you will be here in the morning--the first thing in the morning?" "yes." there was a wonder-world of emotion in his word. "and you will not go to the wine-shop, before you see me--in the morning?" he shook his head. his inner life was facing the east, listening to a skylark song. "there is much to hear and say," she whispered unsteadily. "but go to father fontanel--or i--or you will not be in time! he must not die without seeing you--and take my love and reverence----" they were looking into each other's eyes--without words.... peter stock returned from the veranda. charter shivered slightly with the return to common consciousness, clenched his empty left hand where hers had been. "the times are running close here," he whispered huskily. "sometimes i forget that we've only just met. father fontanel alone could call me from here to-night. somehow, i dread to leave you. you'll have to forgive me for saying it." "yes.... but in the morning--oh, come quickly.... good-night." she turned hastily to the staircase, and charter's remarks as he rode townward with the other, were shirred, indeed.... twenty-fourth chapter having to do especially with the morning of the ascension, when the monster, _pelÉe_, gives birth to death the old servant met them at the door with uplifted finger. father fontanel was sleeping. they did not wish to disturb him but sat down to wait in the anteroom, which seemed to breathe of little tragedies of saint pierre. on one side of the room was the door that was never locked; on the other, the entrance to the sleeping-room of the priest. thus he kept his ear to the city's pulse. peter stock drowsed in the suffocating air. charter's mind slowly revolved and fitted to the great concept.... the woman was drawn to him, and there had been no need of words.... each moment she was more wonderful and radiant. there had not been a glance, a word, a movement, a moment, a breath, an aspiration, a lift of brow or shoulder or thought, that had not more dearly charmed his conception of her triune beauty. the day had left in his brain a crowd of unassimilated actions, and into this formless company came the thrilling mystery of his last moment with her--a shining cord of happiness for the labyrinth of the late days.... there had been so much _beyond words_ between them--an overtone of singing. he had seen in her eyes all the eager treasure of brimming womanhood, rising to burst the bonds of repression for the first time. dawn was a far voyage, but he settled himself to wait with the will of a weathered voyager whose heart feels the hungry arms upon the waiting shore. the volcano lost its monstrous rhythm again, and was ripping forth irregular crashes. father fontanel awoke and the _rue victor hugo_ became alive with voices, aroused by the rattling in the throat of the mountain. charter went into the room where the priest lay. "come, father," he said, "we have waited long for you. i want you to go out to the ship for the rest of the night. you must breathe true air for an hour. do this for me." "ah, my son!" the old man murmured, drawing charter's head down to his breast. "my mind was clouded, and i could not see you clearly in the travail of yesterday." "many of your people are in fort de france, father," the young man added. "they will be glad to see you. then you may come back here--even to-morrow, if you are stronger. besides, the stalwart friend who has done so much for your people, wants you one night on his ship." "yes, my son.... i was waiting for you. i shall be glad to breathe the dawn at sea." peter stock pressed charter's hand as they led father fontanel forth. the mountain was quieter again. the bells of saint pierre rang the hour of two.... the three reached the sugar landing where the _saragossa's_ launch lay. "hello, ernst," stock called to his man. "i've kept you waiting long, but top-speed to the ship--deep water and ocean air!" the launch sped across the smoky harbor, riding down little isles of flotsam, dead birds from the sky and nameless mysteries from the roiled bed of the harbor. the wind was hot in their faces, like a stoke-hold blast. often they heard a hissing in the water, like the sound of a wet finger touching hot iron. a burning cinder fell upon charter's hand, a messenger from pelée. he could not feel fire that night.... he was living over that last moment with her--gazing into her eyes as one who seeks to penetrate the mystery of creation, as if it were any clearer in a woman's eyes than in a nile night, a venetian song, or in the flow of gasolene to the spark, which filled the contemplation of ernst.... he remembered the swift intaking of her breath at the last, and knew that she was close to tears. the launch was swinging around to the _saragossa's_ ladder. father fontanel had not spoken. wherever the ship-lights fell, the sheeting of ash could be seen--upon mast and railing and plates. they helped the good man up the ladder, and stock ordered laird, his first officer, to steam out of the blizzard, a dozen miles if necessary. the anchor chain began to grind at once, and three minutes later, the _saragossa's_ screws were kicking the ugly harbor tide. charter watched, strangely disconcerted, until only the dull red of pelée pierced the thick veil behind. a star, and another, pricked the blue vault ahead, and the air blew in fragrant as wine from the rolling caribbean, but each moment was an arraignment now.... he wanted none of the clean sea; and the mere fact that he would not rouse her before daylight, even if he were at the _palms_, did not lessen the savage pressure of the time.... father fontanel would not sleep, but moved among his people on deck. the natives refused to stay below, now that the defiled harbor was behind. there was a humming of old french lullabies to the little ones. cool air had brought back the songs of peace and summer to the lowly hearts. it was an hour before dawn, and the _saragossa_ was already putting back toward the roadstead, when father fontanel called charter suddenly. "make haste and go to the woman, my son," he said strangely. charter could not answer. the priest had spoken little more than this, since they led him from the parish-house. the _saragossa_ crept into the edge of the smoke. the gray ghost of morning was stealing into the hateful haze. they found anchorage. the launch was in readiness below. it was not yet six. ernst was off duty, and another sailor,--one whose room was prepared in the dim pavilion--waited at the tiller. charter waved at the pale mute face of the priest, leaning overside, and the fog rushed in between. the launch gained the inner harbor, and the white ships at anchor were vague as phantoms in the vapor--french steamers, italian barques, and the smaller west indian craft--all with their work to do and their way to win. charter heard one officer shout to another a whimsical inquiry--if saint pierre were in her usual place or had switched sites with hell. the day was clearing rapidly, however, and before the launch reached shore, the haze so lifted that pelée could be seen, floating a pennant of black out to sea. in the city, a large frame warehouse was ablaze. the tinder-dry structure was being destroyed with almost explosive speed. a blistering heat rushed down from the expiring building to the edge of the land. crowds watched the destruction. many of the people were in holiday attire. this was the day of ascension, and saint pierre would shortly pray and praise at the cathedral; and at _notre dame des lourdes_, where father fontanel would be missed quite the same as if they had taken the figure of saint anne from the altar.... even now the cathedral bells were calling, and there was low laughter from a group of creole maidens. was it not good to live, since the sun was trying to shine again and the mountain did not answer the ringing of the bells? it was true that pelée poured forth a black streamer with lightning in its folds; true that the people trod upon the hot, gray dust of the volcano's waste; that the heat was such as no man had ever felt before, and many sat in misery upon the ground; true, indeed, that voices of hysteria came from the hovels, and the weaker were dying too swiftly for the priests to attend them all--but the gala-spirit was not dead. the bells were calling, the mountain was still, bright dresses were abroad--for the torrid children of france must laugh. a carriage was not procurable, so charter fell in with the procession on the way to the cathedral. many of the natives nodded to him; and may have wondered at the color in his skin, the fire in his eyes, and the glad ring of his voice. standing for a moment before the church, he hurled over the little gathering the germ of flight; told them of the food and shelter in fort de france, begged them laughingly to take their women and children out of this killing air.... it was nearly eight--eight on the morning of ascension day.... she would be ready. he hoped to find a carriage at the hotel.... at nine they would be in the launch again, speeding out toward the _saragossa_. twenty times a minute she recurred to him as he walked. there was no waning nor wearing--save a wearing brighter, perhaps--of the images she had put in his mind. palaces, gardens, treasure-houses--with the turn of every thought, new riches of possibility identified with her, were revealed. thoughts of her, winged in and out his mind like bright birds that had a cote within--until he was lifted to heights of gladness which seemed to shatter the dome of human limitations--and leave him crown and shoulders emerged into illimitable ether. the road up the _morne_ stretched blinding white before him. the sun was braver. panting and spent not a little, he strode upward through the vicious pressure of heat, holding his helmet free from his head, that air might circulate under the rim. upon the crest of the _morne_, he perceived the gables of the old plantation-house, above the palms and mangoes, strangely yellowed in the ashen haze. pelée roared. sullen and dreadful out of the silence voiced the monster roused to his labor afresh. charter darted a glance back at the darkening north, and began to run.... the crisis was not past; the holiday darkened. the ship would fill with refugees now, and the road to fort de france turn black with flight. these were his thoughts as he ran. the lights of the day burned out one by one. the crust of the earth stretched to a cracking tension. the air was beetling with strange concussions. in the clutch of realization, charter turned one shining look toward the woman hurrying forward on the veranda of the _palms_.... detonations accumulated into the crash of a thousand navies. she halted, her eyes fascinated, lost in the north. he caught her up like a child. across the lawn, through the roaring black, he bore her, brushing her fingers and her fallen hair from his eyes. he reached the curbing of the old well with his burden, crawled over and caught the rusty chain. incandescent tongues lapped the cistern's raised coping. there was a scream as from the souls of night and storm and chaos triumphant--a mighty planetary madness--shocking magnitudes from the very core of sound! air was sucked from the vault, from their ears and lungs by the shrieking vacuums, burned through the cushion of atmosphere by the league-long lanes of electric fire.... running streams of red dust filtered down. it was eight on the morning of ascension day. _la montagne pelée_ was giving birth to death. twenty-fifth chapter the _saragossa_ encounters the raging fire-mists from _pelÉe_ eight miles at sea, but lives to send a boat ashore peter stock stared long into the faint film of smoke, until the launch bearing charter ashore was lost in the shipping. the pale, winding sheet was unwrapped from the beauty of morning. there was an edging of rose and gold on the far dim hills. his eyes smarted from weariness, but his mind, like an automatic thing, swept around the great circle--from the ship to the city, to the plantation-house on the _morne_ and back to the ship again. he was sick of the shore, disgusted with people who would listen to m. mondet and not to him. miss wyndam had refused him so often, that he was half afraid charter would not be successful, but he was willing to wait two hours longer, for he liked the young woman immensely, liked her breeding and her brain.... he joined laird, his first officer, on the bridge. the latter was scrutinizing through the glass a blotch of smoke on the city-front. "what do you make of it, sir?" laird asked. the lenses brought to the owner a nucleus of red in the black bank. the rest of saint pierre was a gray, doll-settlement, set in the shelter of little gray hills. he could see the riven and castellated crest of pelée weaving his black ribbon. it was all small, silent, and unearthly. "that's a fire on the water-front," he said. "that's what i made of it, sir," laird responded. shortly afterward the trumpetings of the monster began. the harbor grew yellowish-black. the shore crawled deeper into the shroud, and was lost altogether. the water took on a foul look, as if the bed of the sea were churned with some beastly passion. the anchor-chain grew taught, mysteriously strained, and banged a tattoo against its steel-bound eye. blue peter drooping at the foremast, livened suddenly into a spasm of writhing, like a hooked lizard. the black, quivering columns of smoke from the funnels were fanned down upon the deck, adding soot to the white smear from the volcano. "better get the natives below--squall coming!" peter stock said, in a low tone to laird, and noted upon the quiet, serious face of this officer, as he obeyed, an expression quite new. it was the look of a man who sees the end, and does not wince. the women wailed, as the sailors hurried them below and sealed the ways after them. a deep-sea language passed over the ship. there were running feet, bells below, muffled cries from the native-women, quick oaths from the sailors; and then, peter stock felt the iron-fingers of fear about his heart--not for himself and his ship eight miles at sea, but for his good young friend and for the woman who had refused to come. a hot, fetid breath charged the air. the ship rose and settled like a feather in a breeze; in a queer light way, as though its element were heavily charged with air, the water danced, alive with the yeast of worlds. the disordered sky intoned violence. pelée had set the foundations to trembling. a step upon the bridge-ladder caused the american to turn with a start. father fontanel was coming up. "oh, this won't do at all," peter stock cried in french. "we're going to catch hell up here, and you don't belong." he dashed down the ladder, and led the old man swiftly back to the cabin, where he rushed to the ports and screwed them tight with lightning fingers, led the priest to a chair and locked it in its socket. father fontanel spoke for the first time. "it's very good of you," he said dully, "but what of my people?" stock did not answer, but rushed forth. six feet from the cabin-door, he met the fiery van of the cataclysm, and found strength to battle his way back into the cabin.... from out the shoreward darkness thundered vibrations which rendered soundless all that had passed before. comets flashed by the port-holes. the _saragossa_ shuddered and fell to her starboard side. eight bells had just sounded when the great thunder rocked over the gray-black harbor, and the molten vitals of the monster, wrapped in a black cloud, filled the heavens, gathered and plunged down upon the city and the sea. as for the ship, eight miles from the shore and twelve miles from the craters, she seemed to have fallen from a habitable planet into the firemist of an unfinished world. she heeled over like a biscuit-tin, dipping her bridge and gunwales. she was deluged by blasts of steam and molten stone. her anchor-chain gave way, and, burning in a dozen places, she was sucked inshore. laird was on the bridge. plass, the second officer, on his way to the bridge, to relieve or assist laird as the bell struck, was felled at the door of the chart-room. a sailor trying to drag the body of plass to shelter, was overpowered by the blizzard of steam, gas, and molten stone, falling across the body of his officer. the ship was rolling like a runaway-buoy. peter stock had been hurled across the cabin, but clutched the chair in which the priest was sitting, and clung to an arm of it, pinning the other to his seat. several moments may have passed before he regained his feet. though badly burned, he felt pain only in his throat and lungs, from that awful, outer breath as he regained the cabin. firebrands still screamed into the sea outside, but the _saragossa_ was steadying a trifle, and vague day returned. stock was first to reach the deck, the woodwork of which was burning everywhere. he tried to shout, but his throat was closed by the hot dust. the body of a man was hanging over the railing of the bridge. it was laird, with his face burned away. there were others fallen. the shock of his burns and the terrible outer heat was beginning to overpower the commander when pugh, the third officer, untouched by fire, appeared from below. in a horrid, tongueless way, stock fired the other to act, and staggered back into the cabin. pugh shrieked up the hands, and set to the fires and the ship's course. out of two officers and three sailors on deck when pelée struck, none had lived. peter stock owed his life to the mute and momentary appearance of father fontanel. the screaming of the native-women reached his ears from the hold. father fontanel stared at him with the most pitiful eyes ever seen in child or woman. black clouds were rolling out to sea. deep thunder of a righteous source answered pelée's lamentations. the sailors were fighting fire and carrying the dead. the thin shaken voice of pugh came from the bridge. the engines were throbbing. macready, stock's personal servant, entered with a blast of heat. "thank god, you're alive, sir!" he said, with the little roll of ireland on his tongue. "i was below, where better men were not.... eight miles at sea--the long-armed divil av a mountain--what must the infightin' have been!" peter stock beckoned him close and called huskily for lint and oils. macready was back in a moment from the store-room, removed the cracked and twisted boots; cleansed the ashes from the face and ears of his chief; administered stimulant and talked incessantly. "it's rainin' evenchooalities out.... ha, thim burns is not so bad, though your shoes were pretty thin, an' the deck's smeared with red-hot paste. it's no bit of a geyser in a dirt-pile, sure, can tell misther stock whin to come and whin to go." the cabin filled with the odor of burnt flesh as he stripped the coat from stock's shoulder, where an incandescent pebble had fallen and burned through the cloth. ointments and bandages were applied before the owner said: "we must be getting pretty close in the harbor?" this corked macready's effervescence. pugh had been putting the _saragossa_ out to sea, since he assumed control. it hadn't occurred to the little irishman that mr. stock would put back into the harbor of an island freshly-exploded. "i dunno, sir. it's hard to see for the rain." "go to the door and find out". the rain fell in sheets. big seas were driving past, and the steady beat of the engines was audible. there was no smoke, no familiar shadow of hills, but a leaden tumult of sky, and the rollers of open sea beaten by a cloudburst. the commander did not need to be told. it all came back to him--laird's body hanging over the railing of the bridge; plass down; pugh, a new man, in command. "up to the bridge, macready, and tell pugh for me not to be in such a damned hurry--running away from a stricken town. tell him to put back in the roadstead where we belong." macready was gone several moments, and reported, "pugh says we're short-handed; that the ship's badly-charred, but worth savin'; in short, sir, that he's not takin' orders from no valet--meanin' me." nature was righting herself in the brain of the american, but the problems of time and space still were mountains to him. macready saw the gray eye harden, and knew what the next words would be before they were spoken. "bring pugh here!" it was rather a sweet duty for macready, whose colors had been lowered by the untried officer. the latter was in a funk, if ever a seaman had such a seizure. pugh gave an order to the man at the wheel and followed the irishman below, where he encountered the gray eye, and felt macready behind him at the door. "turn back to harbor at once--full speed!" pugh hesitated, his small black eyes burning with terror. "turn back, i say! get to hell out of here!" "but a firefly couldn't live in there, sir----" "call two sailors, macready!" stock commanded, and when they came, added, "put him in irons, you men!... macready, help me to the bridge." * * * * * it was after eleven when the _saragossa_ regained the harbor. the terrific cloudburst had spent itself. out from the land rolled an unctuous smudge, which bore suggestions of the heinous impartiality of a great conflagration. the harbor was cluttered with wreckage, a doom picture for the eyes of the seaman. dimly, fitfully, through the pall, they began to see the ghosts of the shipping--black hulls without helm or hope. the _saragossa_ vented a deep-toned roar, but no answer was returned, save a wailing echo--not a voice from the wreckage, not even the scream of a gull. a sailor heaved the lead, and the scathed steamer bore into the rising heat. ahead was emptiness. peter stock, reclining upon the bridge, and suffering martyrdoms from his burns, gave up his last hope that the guns of pelée had been turned straight seaward, sparing the city or a portion of it. rough winds tunnelling through the smoke revealed a hint of hills shorn of saint pierre. a cry was wrung from the american's breast, and macready hastened to his side with a glass of spirits. "i want a boat made ready--food, medicines, bandages, two or three hundred pounds of ice covered with blankets and a tarpaulin," stock said. "you are to take a couple of men and get in there. get the steward started fitting the boat, and see that the natives are kept a bit quieter. make 'em see the other side--if they hadn't come aboard." "mother av god," macready muttered as he went about these affairs. "i could bake a potatie here, sure, in the holla av my hand. what, thin, must it be in that pit of destruction?" he feared pelée less, however, than the gray eye, and the fate of pugh. the launch had not returned from taking charter ashore, so one of the life-boats was put into commission. the german, ernst, and another sailor of macready's choice, were shortly ready to set out. "you know why i'm not with you, men," the commander told them at the last moment. "it isn't that i couldn't stand it in the boat, but there's a trip ashore for you to make, and there's no walking for me on these puff-balls for weeks to come. macready, you know mr. charter. he had time to reach the _palms_ before hell broke loose. i want you to go there and bring him back alive--and a woman who'll be with him! also report to me regarding conditions in the city. that's all. lower away." a half-hour later, the little boat was forced to return to the ship. the sailor was whimpering at the oars; the lips of ernst were twisted in agony; while macready was silent, sign enough of his failing endurance. human vitality could not withstand the withering draughts of heat. at noon, another amazing downpour of rain came to the aid of peter stock who, granting that the little party had encountered conditions which flesh could not conquer, had, nevertheless, been chafing furiously. at two in the afternoon, a second start was made. deeper and deeper in toward the gray low beach the little boat was pulled, its occupants the first to look upon the heaped and over-running measure of saint pierre's destruction. the three took turns at the oars. fear and suffering brought out a strange feminine quality in the sailor, not of cowardice; rather he seemed beset by visionary terrors. rare running-mates were macready and ernst, odd as two white men can be, but matched to a hair in courage. the german bent to his work, a grim stolid mechanism. macready jerked at the oars, and found breath and energy remaining to assail the world, the flesh and the devil, which was pugh, with his barbed and invariably glib tongue. how many times the blue eyes of the german rolled back under the lids, and his grip relaxed upon the oars; how many times the whipping tongue of macready mumbled, forgetting its object, while his senses reeled against the burning walls of his brain; how many times the sailor hoarsely commanded them to look through the fog for figures which alone he saw--only god and these knew. but the little boat held its prow to the desolate shore. they gained the sugar landing at last, or the place where it had been, and strange sounds came from the lips of ernst, as he pointed to the hulk of the _saragossa's_ launch, burned to the water-line. it had been in his care steadily until its last trip. gray-covered heaps were sprawled upon the shore, some half-covered by the incoming tide, others entirely awash. pelée had brought down the city; and the fire-tiger had rushed in at the kill. he was hissing and crunching still, under the ruins. the sailor moaned and covered his face. "there's nothing alive!" he repeated with dreadful stress. "what else would you look for--here at the very fut av the mountain?" macready demanded. "wait till we get over the hill, and you'll hear the birds singin' an' the naygurs laughin' in the fields an' wonderin' why the milkman don't come." the market-place near the shore was filled with the stones from the surrounding buildings, hurled there as dice from a box. smoke and steam oozed from every ruin. the silence was awful as the sight of death. the streets of the city were effaced. saint pierre had been felled and altered, as the sioux women once altered the corpses of the slain whites. there was no discernible way up the _morne_. breathing piles of debris barred every passage. under one of these, a clock suddenly struck three--an irreverent survival carrying on its shocking business beneath the collapsed walls of a burned and beaten city, frightening them hideously. it would have been impossible to traverse _rue victor hugo_ had the way been clear, since a hundred feet from the shore or less, they encountered a zone of unendurable heat. "i could die happy holdin' pugh here," macready gasped. "do you think hell is worse than this, ernst, barrin' the effrontery of the question? ha--don't step there!" he yanked the german away from a puddle of uncongealed stuff, hot as running metal.... the sailor screamed. he had stepped upon what seemed to be an ash-covered stone. it was soft, springy, and vented a wheezy sigh. rain and rock-dust had smeared all things alike in this gray roasting shambles. "won't somebody say something?" the sailor cried in a momentary silence. "it looks like rain, ma'm," macready offered. they had been forced back into the boat, and were skirting the shore around by the _morne_. saint pierre had rushed to the sea--at the last. the volcano had found the women with the children, as all manner of visitations find them--and the men a little apart. pelée had not faltered. there was nothing to do by the way, no lips to moisten, no voice of pain to hush, no dying thing to ease. there was not an insect-murmur in the air, nor a crawling thing upon the beach, not a moving wing in the hot, gray sky--a necropolis, shore of death absolute. they climbed the cliffs to the north of the _palms_, glanced down through the smoke at the city--sunken like a toothless mouth. even the _morne_ was a husk divested of its fruit. pelée had cut the cane-fields, sucked the juices and left the blasted stalks in his paste. the old plantation-house pushed forth no shadow of an outline. it might be felled or lost in the smoky distance. the nearer landmarks were gone--homes that had brightened the heights in their day, whose windows had flashed the rays of the afternoon sun as it rode down oversea--levelled like the fields of cane. pelée had swept far and left only his shroud, and the heaps upon the way, to show that the old sea-road, so white, so beautiful, had been the haunt of man. the mangoes had lost their vesture; the palms were gnarled and naked fingers pointing to the pitiless sky. macready had known this highway in the mornings, when joy was not dead, when the songs of the toilers and the laughter of children glorified the fields; in the white moonlight, when the sea-winds met and mingled with the spice from tropic hills, and the fragrance from the jasmine and rose-gardens.... he stared ahead now, wetting his puffed and tortured lips. they had passed the radius of terrific heat, but he was thinking of the waiting gray eye, when he returned without the man and the woman. "it'll be back to the bunkers for dinny," he muttered.... "ernst, ye goat, you're intertainin', you're loquenchus." they stepped forward swiftly now. there was not a hope that the mountain had shown mercy at the journey's end.... they would find whom they sought down like the others, and the great house about them. still, there was a vague god to whom macready had prayed once or twice in his life--a god who had the power to strike blasphemers dead, to still tempests, light volcanic fuses and fell babylons. to this god he muttered a prayer now.... the ruins of the plantation house wavered forth from the fog. the sailor plucked at macready's sleeve, and ernst mumbled thickly that they might as well get back aboard.... but the irishman stood forth from them; and in that smoky gloom, desolate as the first day, before light was turned upon the formless void, bayed the names of charter and the woman. then the answer: "_in the cistern--in the old cistern!_" macready made a mental appointment with his god, and yelled presently: "didn't i tell you 'twould take more than the sphit of a mountain to singe the hair of him?... are you hurted, sir?" twenty-sixth chapter paula and charter in several settings feel the energy of the great good that drives the world charter roused, after an unknown time, to the realization that the woman was in his arms; later, that he was sitting upon a slimy stone in a subterranean cell filled with steam. the slab of stone held him free from the four or five inches of almost scalding water on the floor of the cistern. the vault was square, and luckily much larger than its circular orifice; so that back in the corner they were free from the volcanic discharge which had showered down through the mouth of the pit--the cause of the heated water and the released vapors. an earthquake years before had loosened the stone-lining of the vault. with every shudder of the earth now, under the wrath of pelée, the walls, still upstanding, trembled. charter was given much time to observe these matters; and to reckon with mere surface disorders, such as a bleeding right hand, lacerated from the rusty chain; a torn shoulder, and a variety of burns which he promptly decided must be inconsequential, since they stung so in the hot vapor. then, someone with a powerful arm was knocking out three-cushion caroms in his brain-pan. this spoiled good thinking results. it is true, he did not grasp the points of the position, with the remotest trace of the sequence in which they are put down. indeed, his mind, emerging from the depths into which the shock of eruption had felled it, held alone with any persistence the all-enfolding miracle that the woman was in his arms.... presently, his brain began to sort the side-issues. her head had lain, upon his shoulder during that precipitous plunge, and her hair had fallen when he first caught her up. he remembered it blowing and covering his eyes in a manner of playful endearment quite impossible for an outsider to conceive. meanwhile, the blast from pelée was upon the city; traversing the six miles from the crater to the _morne_, faster than its own sound; six miles in little more than the time it had taken him to cross the lawn from the veranda to the cistern. a second or two had saved them. the fire had touched her hair.... her bare arm brushed his cheek, and his whole nature suddenly crawled with the fear that she might not wake. his head dropped to her breast, and he heard her heart, light and steadily on its way. his eyes were straining through the darkness into her face, but he could not be sure it was without burns. there was cumulative harshness in the fear that her face, so fragile, of purest line, should meet the coarse element, burning dirt. his hands were not free, but he touched her eyes, and knew that they were whole.... she sighed, stirred and winced a little--breath of consciousness returning. then he heard: "what is this dripping darkness?" the words were slowly uttered, and the tones soft and vague, as from one dreaming, or very close to the gates.... in a great dark room somewhere, in a past life, perhaps, he had heard such a voice from someone lying in the shadows. "we are in the old cistern--you and i----" "i--knew--you--would--come--for--me." it was murmured as from someone very weary, very happy--as a child falling asleep after a dream, murmurs with a little contented nestle under the mother-wing. "but how could you know?" he whispered quickly. "my heart was too full--to take a mere mountain seriously--until the last minute----" "_skylarks--always--know!_" * * * * * torrents of rain were descending. pelée roared with the after-pangs. though cooled and replenished by floods of black rain, the rising water in the cistern was still hot. "it was always hard for me to call you wyndam----" "harder to hear, quentin charter...." "but are you sure you are not badly burned?" he asked for the tenth time. "i don't feel badly burned.... i was watching for you from the window in my room. i didn't like the way my hair looked, and was changing it when i saw you coming--and the black behind you. i tried to fasten it with one pin, as i ran downstairs.... it fell. it is very thick and kept the fire from me----" "from us." he would have preferred his share of the red dust. she shivered contentedly. "what little is burned will grow again. red mops invariably do." " ... and to think i should have found the old cistern in the night!... one night when i could not sleep, i walked out here and explored. the idea came then----" "i watched you from the upper window.... the shutter wiggled as you went away. it was the next day that the 'fraids got me. you rushed off to the mountain." often they verged like this beyond the borders of rational quotation. one hears only the voices, not the words often, from rapture's roadway. "just as i begin to think of something pelée erupts all over again in my skull----" "i didn't know men understood headache matters.... don't you think--don't you really think--i might be allowed to stand a little bit?" "water's still too hot," he replied briefly. the cavern was not so utterly dark. the circle of the orifice was sharply lit with gray.... they lost track of the hours; for moments at a time forgot physical distress, since they had known only mystic journeys before.... they whispered the fate of saint pierre--a city's soul torn from the shrieking flesh; shadows lifted from the mystery of the little wine-shop; clearly they saw how the occultist, his magnetism crippled, had used jacques and soronia; and charter recalled now where he had seen the face of paula before--the photograph in the bellingham-cabin on the _panther_.... a second cloudburst cooled and eased them, though they stood in water.... it seemed that peter stock should have made an effort to reach them by this time. save that the gray was unchangeable in the roof the world, charter could not have believed that this was all one day. the power which had devastated the city, and with unspent violence swept the _morne_, might have reached three leagues at sea!... above all these probabilities arose their happiness. "it seems that i've become a little boy," he said, "on one of those perfect christmas mornings. don't you remember, the greatest moment of all--coming downstairs, partly dressed, into the room _they_ had made ready? that moment, before you actually see--just as you enter the mingled dawn and fire-light and catch the first glisten of the tree?... i'm afraid, paula linster, you have found----" "a boy," she whispered. her face was very close in the gray.... "the loved dream-boy. the boy went away to meet sternness and suffering and mazes of misdirection--had to compromise with the world to fit at all. ah, i have waited long, and the man has come back to me--a boy." "_la montagne pelée_ is artistic." "it may be in this marvellous world, where men carry on their wars and their wooings," she went on strangely, "some pursuing their little ways of darkness, some bursting into blooms of valor and tenderness;--it may be that two of earth's people, after a dreadful passage through agony and terror, have been restored to each other--as we are. it may be that in the roll of earth's tableaux, another such film is curled away from another age and another cataclysm." "paula," he declared, after a moment, "i have found a living truth in this happiness--the great good that drives the world! i think i shall not lose it again. glimpses of it came to me facing the east--as i wrote and thought of you. one glimpse was so clear that i expressed it in a letter, 'i tell you there is no death, since i have heard the skylark sing....' i lost the bright fragment, for a few days in new york--battled for the prize again both in new york and yesterday at the mountain. to-day has brought it to me--always to keep. it is this: were you to die, i should love you and know you were near. this is love above flesh and death--the old mystifying interchangeables. this happiness is the triumph over death. it is a revelation, a mighty adoring--not a mere woman in my arms, but an ineffable issue of eternity. a woman, but more--love and labor and life and the great good that drives the world! this is the happiness i have and hold to-day: though you died, i should know that you lived and were mine." "i see it--it is the triumph over death--but, quentin charter--i want _you_ still!" "don't you see, it is the strength you give me!--that girds me to say such things?" so they had their flights into silence, while the eternal gray lived in their round summit of sky--until the voices of the rescuers and their own grateful answers.... the sailor was sent back to the boat for rope, while macready cheered them with a fine and soothing gaelic oil.... they lifted paula, who steadied and helped herself by the chain; then sent the noose down for charter. "have you the strent', sir, to do the overhand up the chain?" macready questioned, and added in a ghost's whisper, "with the fairest of tin thousand waitin' at the top?" charter laughed. to lift his right arm was thrashing pain, but he made it easy as he could for them; and in the gray light faced the woman. she saw his lacerated hand, the mire, fire-blisters upon his face, the blood upon his clothing, swollen veins of throat and temples, and the glowing adoration in his eyes.... she had bound her hair, and there was much still to bind. no mortal hurt was visible. behind her was the falling sea. on her right hand the smoking ruin of the _palms_; to the left, pelée and his tens of thousands slain; above, the hot, leaden, hurrying clouds.... ernst, macready and the sailor moved discreetly away. backs turned, they watched the puffs of smoke and steam that rose like gray-white birds from the valley of the dead city. "ernst, lad," said macready, "the boss and the leadin' lady are havin' an intellekchool repast in the cinter av the stage by the old well. bear in mind you're a chorus girl and conduct yourself in accord. have you a drop left in the heel av the flask, adele, dear?" * * * * * they were nearing the _saragossa_ in the dusk, and their call had been answered with a rousing cheer from the ship.... "please, sir, you said you would take me sailing," paula called, as she readied the head of the ladder. though he could not stand, peter stock had an arm for each; and they were only released to fall into the embrace of father fontanel. they saw it now in the ship's light: pelée had stricken the old priest, but not with fire.... the two were together shortly afterward at supper, in clean dry make-shifts, very ludicrous. "i came to you empty-handed, and soiled from the travail of the journey," she whispered. "all but myself was in a certain room that faced the north." "there are booties, flounces and ribands in the shops of fort de france," charter replied with delight. "peter stock shall be allowed certain privileges, but not to make any such purchases. i carry circular notes--and insist on straightening them out." "haven't you discovered that skylarks are not of the insisting kind--even when they need new plumage? anything that looks like insistence nearly scares the life out of them. isn't it a dear world?" all this was smoothly coherent to him.... alone that night, they drew deck-chairs close together forward; and snugly wrapped, would have nothing whatever to do with peter stock's sumptuous cabins. they needed floods of rest, but were too happy, save just to take little sips of sleep between talk. "you must have been afraid at first," she said, "of turning a foolish person's head with all that beauty of praise in your letters.... i think you were writing to some image you wanted to believe lived somewhere, but had little hope ever really to find. i could not take it all home to me at first.... i felt that you were writing to a lovely, shadowy sister who was safely put away in a kind of twilight faëry--a little figure by a well of magical waters. sometimes i could go to her, reach the well, but i could not drink at first--only listen to the music of the water, watch it bubble and flash in the moon." "i love your mind, paula linster," he said suddenly, "--every phase of it. by the way--_love's_ a word i never used before to-day--not even in my work, save as an abstraction." she remembered that selma cross had said this of him--that he never used that word. "you could not have said that to 'wyndam'----" "yes--for skylark was singing more and more about her. i soon should have had to say it to 'wyndam.'" "i loved your fidelity to skylark," she told him softly. dust of pelée would fall upon the archipelago for weeks, but this of starless dark was their supreme night. "feel the sting of the spray," he commanded. "hear the bows sing!... it's all for us--the loveliest of earth's distances and the sky afterward----" "but behind," she whispered pitifully. "yes--pelée 'splashed at a ten-league canvas with brushes of comet's hair.'" * * * * * the next night had fallen, and the two were through with the shops of fort de france. paula's dress was white and lustrous, a strange native fabric which the man regarded with seriousness and awe. he was in white, too. his right hand was swathed for repairs, the arm slung, and a thickness of lint was fitted under his collar. about his eyes and mouth was a slight look of strain still, which could not live another day before the force of recuperative happiness.... up through the streets of the capital, they made their way. casements were open to the night and the sea, but the people were dulled with grief. martinique had lost her first born, and fort de france, the gentle sister of saint pierre, was bowed with the spirit of weeping. they had loved and leaned on each other, this boy and girl of the mother island. through the silent crowds, charter and paula walked, a part of the silence, passing the groves and towers, where the laws of france are born again for the little aliens; treading streets of darkness and moaning. a field of fire-lights shone ahead--red glow shining upon new canvas. this was the little colony of father fontanel, sustained by his american friend,--brands plucked from the burning of saint pierre. they passed the edge of the bivouac. a woman sat nursing her babe, fire-light upon her face and breast, drowsy little ones about her. coffee and night-air and quavering lullabies; above all, ardent josephine in marble, smiling and dreaming of europe among the stars.... it was a powerful moment to quentin charter. great joy and thrilling tragedy breathed upon his heart. he saw a tear upon paula's cheek, and heard the low voice of father fontanel--like an echo across a stream. he saw them and hastened forward, more than white in the radiance. "it is the moment of ten thousand years!" he exclaimed, grasping their hands. paula started, and turned to charter whose gaze sank into her brain.... and so it came about unexpectedly; in the fire-light among the priest's beloved, under the seven palms and the ardent mystic smile of the empress.... _go thy way, eat thy bread with joy, and drink thy wine with a merry heart; for god hath already accepted thy works.... let thy garments be always white; and let not thy head lack ointment. live joyfully with the wife whom thou lovest, all the days of thy life._ the words rang in their ears, when they were alone in the city's darkness, and the fire-lights far behind. * * * * * on the third day following, they stood together on the _morne d'orange_--the three. father fontanel had been in feverish haste to gaze once more upon his city; while charter and paula had a mission among the ruins.... the _saragossa_ was sitting for a new complexion in the harbor of fort de france, so they had been driven over from the capital, along the old sea-road. the wind was still; the sun shone through silent towers of smoke, and it was noon. sunlight bathed the stripped fields of cane, and, seemingly inseparable from the stillness, brooded upon the blue caribbean. the wreck of the old plantation-house was hunched closer to the ground. they left father fontanel in the carriage, and approached the cistern. charter halted suddenly at the edge of the stricken lianas, grasping paula's arm. the well-curbing was broken away, and the earth, for yards surrounding, had caved into the vault. they stood there without speaking for a moment or two, and then he led her back to the carriage.... father fontanel did not seem aware of their coming or going, but smiled when they spoke. his eyes, charmed with sunlight, were lost oversea. at last they stood, the priest between them, at the very edge of the _morne_ overlooking the shadowed _rue victor hugo_--a collapsed artery of the whited sepulchre.... the priest caught his breath; his hands lifted from their shoulders and stretched out over the necropolis. his face was upraised. "god, love the world!" he breathed, and the flesh sank from him.... much death had dulled their emotions, but this was translation. for an instant they were lifted, exalted, as by the rushing winds of a chariot. * * * * * they did not enter the city that day, but came again, the fourth day after the cataclysm. out of the heat from the prone city, arose a forbidding breath, so that paula was prevailed upon to stay behind on the _morne_.... sickened and terrified by the actualities, dreadful beyond any imaging, charter made his way up the cluttered road into _rue rivoli_. saint pierre, a smoky pestilential charnel, was only alive now through the lamentations of those who had come down from the hills for their dead. the wine-shop had partly fallen in front. the stone-arch remained, but the wooden-door had been levelled and was partially devoured by fire. a breath of coolness still lingered in the dark place, and the fruity odor of spilled wine mingled revoltingly with the heaviness of death. the ash-covered floor was packed hard, and still wet from the gusts of rain that had swept in through the open door and the broken-backed roof; stained, too, from the leakage of the casks. charter's boot touched an empty bottle, and it wheeled and careened across the stones--until he thought it would never stop.... steady as a ticking clock, came the "drip-drip" of liquor, escaping through a sprung seam from somewhere among the merciful shadows, where the old soldier of france had fallen from his chair. he climbed over the heap of stones, which had been the rear-door, and entered the little court from which the song-birds had flown. across the drifts of ash, he forced his steps--into the semi-dark of the living-room behind. the great head that he had come to find, was rigidly erect, as if the muscles were locked, and faced the aperture through which he had entered. it seemed to be done in iron, and was covered with white dust--pelée's dust, fresh-wrought from the fire in which the stars were forged. the first impression was that of calm, but charter's soul chilled with terror, before his eyes fathomed the reality of that look. under the thick dust, there suddenly appeared upon the features, as if invisible demons tugged at the muscles with hideous art, a reflection from the depths.... bellingham was sitting beside a table. he had seen death in the open door. the colossal energies of his life had risen to vanquish the foe, yet again. his mind had realized their failure, and what failure meant, before the end. out of the havoc of nether-planes, where abominations are born, had come a last call for him. that glimpse of hell was mirrored in the staring dustless eyes.... around his shoulders, like a golden vine, and lying across his knees, clung the trophy of defeat--soronia. denied the lily--he had taken the tiger-lily.... under the unset stones of the floor, a lizard croaked. charter, who had fallen of old into the caverns of devouring, backed out into the court of the song-birds, in agony for clean light, for he had seen old hells again, in the luminous decay of those staring eyes.... he recalled the end of father fontanel and this--with reverent awe, as one on the edge of the mystery. through the ends of these two, had some essential balance of power been preserved in the world? twenty-seventh chapter paula and charter journey into the west; one hears voices, but not the words often, from rapture's roadway peter stock had cabled to new york for officers and men to make up a ship's company. the _saragossa_ was overhauled, meanwhile, in the harbor of fort de france, and the owner expressed his intention of finishing his healing at sea. on the same ship, which brought his seamen from new york, arrived in fort de france a corps of newspaper correspondents, who were not slow to discover that in the bandaged capitalist lay one of the great stones of the eruption from the american point of view. this literally unseated peter stock from his chair on the veranda of the hotel at the capital. with his guests, he put to sea within thirty-six hours after the arrival of the steamer from new york; indeed, before the _saragossa's_ paint was dry. his vitality was not abated, but the great figures of pelée and fontanel, enriched by m. mondet as a sort of clown-attendant, had strangely softened and strengthened this rarely-flavored personality. as for his two guests, that month of voyaging in the caribbean and below, is particularly their own. the three were on deck as the _saragossa_ plied past saint pierre, five or six miles deep in the roadstead, a last time. the brute, pelée, lay asleep in the sun before the gate of the whited sepulchre. "did i ever tell you about my last interview with m. mondet?" peter stock inquired. charter had witnessed it, on his way to the craters that morning, but he did not say so, and was regaled with the story. "bear witness," peter stock finished, pointing toward the city, "that i forgive m. mondet. doubtless he was writing a paragraph on the staunchness of pelée--when his desk was closed for him." * * * * * they reached new york the first week in july. no sooner had peter stock berthed the _saragossa_ and breathed the big city, than he discovered how dearly he loved pittsburg.... paula went alone to the little apartment top-side o' park, where madame nestor absolved her strong young queen; alone also first to _the states_, though there was a table set for four over in staten island the following day.... charter and reifferscheid regarded each other a trifle nervously in the latter's office, before they left for the ferry. each, however, found in the eyes of the other a sudden grip on finer matters than obvious explanations, so that no adjustment of past affairs was required. to charter, this moment of meeting with the editor became a singularly bright memory, like certain moments with father fontanel. reifferscheid had put away all the flowerings of romance, and could not know that their imperishable lustre was in his eyes--for the deeper-seeing eyes of the woman. he was big enough to praise her happiness, big enough to burst into singing. it had been a hard moment for her, but he sprang high among the nobilities of her heart, and was sustained.... what if it were just a throat-singing? there was no discordant note. these are the men and the moments to clinch one's faith in the great good that drives the world. selma cross had left the _zoroaster_, and, with stephen cabot, was happily on the wing, between the city, shores and mountains. _the thing_ was to open again in september at the _herriot_, and the initial venture into the west was over. had she wished, paula was not given a chance to do without the old friendship.... the story of taking the company down into kentucky from cincinnati and fulfilling the old promise to calhoun knox proved rare listening: "i won't soon forget that night in cincinnati, when i parted from stephen cabot," she said, falling with the same old readiness into her disclosures. "'stephen,' i told him, 'i am taking the company down into danube to play to-morrow night in my home. i don't want you to go....' i had seen the real man shine out through physical pain many times. it was so now, and he looked the master in the deeper hurt. he's a self-fighter--the champion. he asked me if i meant to stay long, as i took his cool, slim hand. i told him that i hoped not, but if it transpired that i must stay for a while, i should come back to cincinnati--for one day--to tell him.... i saw he was the stronger. i was all woman that moment, all human, wanting nothing that crowds or art could give. i think my talk became a little flighty, as i watched his face, so brave and so white. "i knew his heart, knew that his thoughts that moment would have burned to the brute husk, coarser stuff than he was made of.... here's a stephen who could smile up from the ground as--as they stoned.... so i left him, standing by the window, in the upper-room of the hotel, watching the moving river-lights down on the ohio. "late the next afternoon i reached danube, and was driven directly to the theatre--which was new. there was a pang in this. the town seemed just the same; the streets and buildings, the sounds and smells, even the sunset patch at the head of main street--all were just as they should be, except the theatre. you see, all the dreams of greatness of that savage, homely girl, had found their source and culmination in the old house of melodrama, parts of which, they told me, now were made over into darkey shanties down by the river. i felt that my success was qualified a little in that it had not come in the life of the old house. "i joined the company at the theatre, without seeing any of the danube folk. the audience was already gathering. through an eyelet of the curtain, i saw calhoun knox enter alone, and take a seat in the centre, five rows from the orchestra. he seemed smaller. the good brown tan was gone. there was a twitch about his mouth that twitched mine. other faces were the same--even the lips that had spoken my doom so long ago. i had no hate for them now.... "i looked at calhoun knox again, looked for the charm of clean simplicity, and kept putting stephen cabot out of my heart and brain.... this man before me had fought for me twice, when i had needed a champion.... they pulled me away from the eyelet, and _the thing_ was on. "i could feel the town's group-soul that night--responded to its every thought, as if a nerve-system of my own was installed in every mind. they were listening to the woman who had startled new york. i felt their awe. it was not sweet, as i had dreamed the moment would be. after all, these were my people. "i wanted their love, not their adulation. there had been nights back in the east, when i had felt my audience, and turned loose _the thing_ with utmost daring, knowing that enough of the throng could follow me. but this night i played slowly, played down, so that all could get it. this was not a concession to the public, but a reconciliation. and at the last, i moved and spoke pityingly, lest i hurt them; played to the working face of calhoun knox with all its limitations--as you would tell a story to a child, and hasten the happy ending to steady the quivering lip.... and then it came to me slowly, after the last curtain had fallen, that danube was calling for its own, and i stepped out from behind. "'once in the days of tumult and misunderstanding,' i told them, 'i was angry because you did not love me. now i know that i was not lovable. and now i feel your goodness and your forgiveness. i pray you not to thank me any more, lest i break down under too much joy....' then i went down among them. a woman kissed me, but the moment was so big and my eyes so clouded that i did not remember the face.... presently the real consciousness came. danube had dropped back to the doors. my hand was in the hand of calhoun knox. "far out the lone ridge pike, we walked, to the foot of the knobs. i was breathing the smell of my old mountains. you can rely, that i had kept my voice bright. 'i have come back to you, calhoun,' i said. "'i shouldn't be here,' he stammered in real panic. 'you didn't write, and i married----' "i could have hugged him in a way that would not have disturbed his wife, but i said reproachfully, 'and you let me come 'way out here alone with you, wicked married man?...' i started back for town, and then thought better of it--waited for him to come up, and took his hand. "'calhoun,' i said, 'i found you a solid friend when i needed one pitifully. selma cross never forgets. you have always been my kentucky gentleman. god bless your big bright heart. i wish you kingly happiness!' "and then i did rush back. we separated at the edge of the town. i wanted to run and cry aloud. the joy was so new and so vast that i could scarcely hold it. miles away, i heard the night-train whistle. my baggage was at the hotel, but i didn't care for that, and reached the depot-platform in time. the company was there, but they had reserved a pullman. i went into the day-coach, because i wanted to be alone--sat rigidly in the thin-backed seat. there were snoring, sprawling folks on every hand.... after a long time, some one stirred in his seat and muttered, 'high bridge.' the brakeman came through at age-long intervals, calling stations that had once seemed to me the far country. then across the aisle, a babe awoke and wailed. the mother had others--a sweet sort of woman sick with weariness. i took the little one, and it liked the fresh arms and fell asleep. it fitted right in--the soft helpless warm little thing--and felt good to me. dawn dimmed the old meadows before i gave it up to be fed--and begged it back again. "and then cincinnati from the river--brown river below and brown smoke-clouds above. it seemed as if i had been gone ages, instead of only since yesterday. unhampered by baggage, i sped out of the day-coach, far ahead of the company in the pullman, but the carriage to the hotel was insufferably slow; the elevator dragged.... it was only eight in the morning, but i knew his ways--how little he slept.... his door was partly open, and i heard the crinkle of his paper, as he answered my tap. "'aren't you pretty near ready for breakfast, stephen?' i asked.... he stood in the doorway--his head just to my breast. his face was hallowed, but his body seemed to weaken. i crossed the threshold to help him, and we--we're to be married before the new season opens." paula loved the story. * * * * * and at length paula and charter reached the house of his mother, whose glory was about her, as she stood in the doorway. before he kissed her, the mother-eyes had searched his heart.... then she turned to his garland of victory. "i am so glad you have brought me a daughter." the women faced each other--the strangest moment in three lives.... all the ages passed between the eyes of the maid and the mother; and wisdoms finer than words, as when two suns, sweeping past in their great cycle, shine across the darkness of the infinite deep; ages of gleaning, adoring, suffering, bearing, praying; ages of listening to little children and building dreams out of pain; the weathered lustre of naomi and the fresh radiance of ruth; but over all, that look which passed between the women shone the secret of the meaning of men--god-taught motherhood. to charter, standing afar-off, came the simple but tremendous revelation, just a glimpse into that lovely arcanum which mere man may never know in full.... he saw that these two were closer than prophets to the lifting heart of things; that such are the handmaidens of the spirit, to whom are intrusted god's avatars; that no prophet is greater than his mother. to the man, it was new as the dream which nestled in paula's heart; to the women, it was old as the flocks on the mountain-sides of lebanon. they turned to him smiling. and when he could speak, he said to paula: "i thought you would like to see the garret, and the window that faces the east." the end about will levington comfort _author of "she buildeth her house" and "routledge rides alone"_ (_eight editions_) well-known as one of the most successful short-story contributors to american magazines, will levington comfort awoke one morning a little over a year ago to find himself famous as a long-story writer. seldom has the first novel of an author been accorded the very essence of praise from the conservative critics as was mr. comfort's "routledge rides alone," acknowledged to be the best book of . while young in years, mr. comfort, who is thirty-three, is old in experience. in he enlisted in the fifth united states cavalry, and saw cuban service in the spanish-american war. the following year he rode as a war correspondent in the philippines a rise which resulted from vivid letters written to newspapers from the battlefields and prisons. stricken with fever, wearied of service and thinking of home, he was next ordered by cable up into china to watch the lid lifted from the legations at peking. here he saw general liscum killed on the tientsin wall and got his earliest glance of the japanese in war. another attack of fever completely prostrated him and he was sent home on the hospital ship "relief." in the interval between the boxer uprising and the russo-japanese war, mr. comfort began to dwell upon the great fundamental facts of world-politics. but the call of smoke and battle was too strong, and, securing a berth as war-correspondent for a leading midwestern newspaper, he returned to the far east and the scenes of the russo-japanese conflict in . he was present at the battle of liaoyang his description of which in "routledge rides alone" fairly overwhelms the reader. few novels of recent years have aroused the same enthusiasm as was evoked by this story of "routledge." book reviewers both in this country and in europe have suggested that the book should win for its author the peace prize because it is one of the greatest and most effective arguments against warfare that has ever been presented. by will levington comfort routledge rides alone colored frontispiece by martin justice here is a tale indeed--big and forceful, palpitating with interest, and written with the sureness of touch and the breadth of a man who is master of his art. mr. comfort has drawn upon two practically new story-places in the world of fiction to furnish the scenes for his narrative--india and manchuria at the time of the russo-japanese war. while the novel is distinguished by its clear and vigorous war scenes, the fine and sweet romance of the love of the hero, routledge--a brave, strange, and talented american--for the "most beautiful woman in london" rivals these in interest. the story opens in london, sweeps up and down asia, and reaches its most rousing pitch on the ghastly field of liaoyang, in manchuria. the one-hundred-mile race from the field to a free cable outside the war zone, between routledge and an english war correspondent, is as exciting and enthralling as anything that has appeared in fiction in recent years. "a big, vital, forceful story that towers giant-high--a romance to lure the hours away in tense interest--a book with a message for all mankind."--_detroit free press._ "three such magnificent figures as routledge, noreen, and rawder never before have appeared together in fiction. take it all in all, 'routledge rides alone' is a great novel, full of sublime conception, one of the few novels that are as ladders from heaven to earth."--_san francisco argonaut._ "the story unfolds a vast and vivid panorama of life. the first chapters remind one strongly of the descriptive kipling we once knew. we commend the book for its untamed interest. we recommend it for its descriptive power."--_boston evening transcript._ "here is one of the strongest novels of the year; a happy blending of romance and realism, vivid, imaginative, dramatic, and, above all, a well told story with a purpose. it is a red-blooded story of war and love, with a touch of the mysticism of india, some world politics, love of country, and hate of oppression--a tale of clean and expert workmanship, powerful and personal."--_pittsburg dispatch._ "three such magnificent figures (routledge, noreen, and rawder) have seldom before appeared together in fiction. for knowledge, energy, artistic conception, and literary skill, it is easily the book of the day--a great novel, full of a sublime conception, one of the few novels that are as ladders from heaven to earth."--_san francisco argonaut._ "easily the book of the day"--_san francisco argonaut._ the kybalion a study of the hermetic philosophy of ancient egypt and greece by three initiates "the lips of wisdom are closed, except to the ears of understanding" copyright originally published by the yogi publication society masonic temple chicago, illinois isbn - - to hermes trismegistus known by the ancient egyptians as "the great great" and "master of masters" this little volume of hermetic teaching is reverently dedicated table of contents i. the hermetic philosophy ii. the seven hermetic principles . the principle of mentalism . the principle of correspondence . the principle of vibration . the principle of polarity . the principle of rhythm . the principle of cause and effect . the principle of gender iii. mental transmutation iv. the all v. the mental universe vi. the divine paradox vii. "the all" in all viii. planes of correspondence ix. vibration x. polarity xi. rhythm xii. causation xiii. gender xiv. mental gender xv. hermetic axioms introduction we take great pleasure in presenting to the attention of students and investigators of the secret doctrines this little work based upon the world-old hermetic teachings. there has been so little written upon this subject, not withstanding the countless references to the teachings in the many works upon occultism, that the many earnest searchers after the arcane truths will doubtless welcome the appearance of this present volume. the purpose of this work is not the enunciation of any special philosophy or doctrine, but rather is to give to the students a statement of the truth that will serve to reconcile the many bits of occult knowledge that they may have acquired, but which are apparently opposed to each other and which often serve to discourage and disgust the beginner in the study. our intent is not to erect a new temple of knowledge, but rather to place in the hands of the student a master-key with which he may open the many inner doors in the temple of mystery through the main portals he has already entered. there is no portion of the occult teachings possessed by the world which have been so closely guarded as the fragments of the hermetic teachings which have come down to us over the tens of centuries which have elapsed since the lifetime of its great founder, hermes trismegistus, the "scribe of the gods," who dwelt in old egypt in the days when the present race of men was in its infancy. contemporary with abraham, and, if the legends be true, an instructor of that venerable sage, hermes was, and is, the great central sun of occultism, whose rays have served to illumine the countless teachings which have been promulgated since his time. all the fundamental and basic teachings embedded in the esoteric teachings of every race may be traced back to hermes. even the most ancient teachings of india undoubtedly have their roots in the original hermetic teachings. from the land of the ganges many advanced occultists wandered to the land of egypt, and sat at the feet of the master. from him they obtained the master-key which explained and reconciled their divergent views, and thus the secret doctrine was firmly established. from other lands also came the learned ones, all of whom regarded hermes as the master of masters, and his influence was so great that in spite of the many wanderings from the path on the part of the centuries of teachers in these different lands, there may still be found a certain basic resemblance and correspondence which underlies the many and often quite divergent theories entertained and taught by the occultists of these different lands today. the student of comparative religions will be able to perceive the influence of the hermetic teachings in every religion worthy of the name, now known to man, whether it be a dead religion or one in full vigor in our own times. there is always certain correspondence in spite of the contradictory features, and the hermetic teachings act as the great reconciler. the lifework of hermes seems to have been in the direction of planting the great seed-truth which has grown and blossomed in so many strange forms, rather than to establish a school of philosophy which would dominate, the world's thought. but, nevertheless, the original truths taught by him have been kept intact in their original purity by a few men each age, who, refusing great numbers of half-developed students and followers, followed the hermetic custom and reserved their truth for the few who were ready to comprehend and master it. from lip to ear the truth has been handed down among the few. there have always been a few initiates in each generation, in the various lands of the earth, who kept alive the sacred flame of the hermetic teachings, and such have always been willing to use their lamps to re-light the lesser lamps of the outside world, when the light of truth grew dim, and clouded by reason of neglect, and when the wicks became clogged with foreign matter. there were always a few to tend faithfully the altar of the truth, upon which was kept alight the perpetual lamp of wisdom. these men devoted their lives to the labor of love which the poet has so well stated in his lines: "o, let not the flame die out! cherished age after age in its dark cavern--in its holy temples cherished. fed by pure ministers of love--let not the flame die out!" these men have never sought popular approval, nor numbers of followers. they are indifferent to these things, for they know how few there are in each generation who are ready for the truth, or who would recognize it if it were presented to them. they reserve the "strong meat for men," while others furnish the "milk for babes." they reserve their pearls of wisdom for the few elect, who recognize their value and who wear them in their crowns, instead of casting them before the materialistic vulgar swine, who would trample them in the mud and mix them with their disgusting mental food. but still these men have never forgotten or overlooked the original teachings of hermes, regarding the passing on of the words of truth to those ready to receive it, which teaching is stated in the kybalion as follows: "where fall the footsteps of the master, the ears of those ready for his teaching open wide." and again: "when the ears of the student are ready to hear, then cometh the lips to fill them with wisdom." but their customary attitude has always been strictly in accordance with the other hermetic aphorism, also in the kybalion: "the lips of wisdom are closed, except to the ears of understanding." there are those who have criticized this attitude of the hermetists, and who have claimed that they did not manifest the proper spirit in their policy of seclusion and reticence. but a moment's glance back over the pages of history will show the wisdom of the masters, who knew the folly of attempting to teach to the world that which it was neither ready or willing to receive. the hermetists have never sought to be martyrs, and have, instead, sat silently aside with a pitying smile on their closed lips, while the "heathen raged noisily about them" in their customary amusement of putting to death and torture the honest but misguided enthusiasts who imagined that they could force upon a race of barbarians the truth capable of being understood only by the elect who had advanced along the path. and the spirit of persecution has not as yet died out in the land. there are certain hermetic teachings, which, if publicly promulgated, would bring down upon the teachers a great cry of scorn and revilement from the multitude, who would again raise the cry of "crucify! crucify." in this little work we have endeavored to give you an idea of the fundamental teachings of the kybalion, striving to give you the working principles, leaving you to apply therm yourselves, rather than attempting to work out the teaching in detail. if you are a true student, you will be able to work out and apply these principles--if not, then you must develop yourself into one, for otherwise the hermetic teachings will be as "words, words, words" to you. the three initiates. chapter i the hermetic philosophy "the lips of wisdom are closed, except to the ears of understanding"--the kybalion. from old egypt have come the fundamental esoteric and occult teachings which have so strongly influenced the philosophies of all races, nations and peoples, for several thousand years. egypt, the home of the pyramids and the sphinx, was the birthplace of the hidden wisdom and mystic teachings. from her secret doctrine all nations have borrowed. india, persia, chaldea, medea, china, japan, assyria, ancient greece and rome, and other ancient countries partook liberally at the feast of knowledge which the hierophants and masters of the land of isis so freely provided for those who came prepared to partake of the great store of mystic and occult lore which the masterminds of that ancient land had gathered together. in ancient egypt dwelt the great adepts and masters who have never been surpassed, and who seldom have been equaled, during the centuries that have taken their processional flight since the days of the great hermes. in egypt was located the great lodge of lodges of the mystics. at the doors of her temples entered the neophytes who afterward, as hierophants, adepts, and masters, traveled to the four corners of the earth, carrying with them the precious knowledge which they were ready, anxious, and willing to pass on to those who were ready to receive the same. all students of the occult recognize the debt that they owe to these venerable masters of that ancient land. but among these great masters of ancient egypt there once dwelt one of whom masters hailed as "the master of masters." this man, if "man" indeed he was, dwelt in egypt in the earliest days. he was known as hermes trismegistus. he was the father of the occult wisdom; the founder of astrology; the discoverer of alchemy. the details of his life story are lost to history, owing to the lapse of the years, though several of the ancient countries disputed with each other in their claims to the honor of having furnished his birthplace--and this thousands of years ago. the date of his sojourn in egypt, in that his last incarnation on this planet, is not now known, but it has been fixed at the early days of the oldest dynasties of egypt--long before the days of moses. the best authorities regard him as a contemporary of abraham, and some of the jewish traditions go so far as to claim that abraham acquired a portion of his mystic knowledge from hermes himself. as the years rolled by after his passing from this plane of life (tradition recording that he lived three hundred years in the flesh), the egyptians deified hermes, and made him one of their gods, under the name of thoth. years after, the people of ancient greece also made him one of their many gods--calling him "hermes, the god of wisdom." the egyptians revered his memory for many centuries-yes, tens of centuries-- calling him "the scribe of the gods," and bestowing upon him, distinctively, his ancient title, "trismegistus," which means "the thrice-great"; "the great-great"; "the greatest-great"; etc. in all the ancient lands, the name of hermes trismegistus was revered, the name being synonymous with the "fount of wisdom." even to this day, we use the term "hermetic" in the sense of "secret"; "sealed so that nothing can escape"; etc., and this by reason of the fact that the followers of hermes always observed the principle of secrecy in their teachings. they did not believe in "casting pearls before swine," but rather held to the teaching "milk for babes"; "meat for strong men," both of which maxims are familiar to readers of the christian scriptures, but both of which had been used by the egyptians for centuries before the christian era. and this policy of careful dissemination of the truth has always characterized the hermetics, even unto the present day. the hermetic teachings are to be found in all lands, among all religions, but never identified with any particular country, nor with any particular religious sect. this because of the warning of the ancient teachers against allowing the secret doctrine to become crystallized into a creed. the wisdom of this caution is apparent to all students of history. the ancient occultism of india and persia degenerated, and was largely lost, owing to the fact that the teachers became priests, and so mixed theology with the philosophy, the result being that the occultism of india and persia has been gradually lost amidst the mass of religious superstition, cults, creeds and "gods." so it was with ancient greece and rome. so it was with the hermetic teachings of the gnostics and early christians, which were lost at the time of constantine, whose iron hand smothered philosophy with the blanket of theology, losing to the christian church that which was its very essence and spirit, and causing it to grope throughout several centuries before it found the way back to its ancient faith, the indications apparent to all careful observers in this twentieth century being that the church is now struggling to get back to its ancient mystic teachings. but there were always a few faithful souls who kept alive the flame, tending it carefully, and not allowing its light to become extinguished. and thanks to these staunch hearts, and fearless minds, we have the truth still with us. but it is not found in books, to any great extent. it has been passed along from master to student; from initiate to hierophant; from lip to ear. when it was written down at all, its meaning was veiled in terms of alchemy and astrology so that only those possessing the key could read it aright. this was made necessary in order to avoid the persecutions of the theologians of the middle ages, who fought the secret doctrine with fire and sword; stake, gibbet and cross. even to this day there will be found but few reliable books on the hermetic philosophy, although there are countless references to it in many books written on various phases of occultism. and yet, the hermetic philosophy is the only master key which will open all the doors of the occult teachings! in the early days, there was a compilation of certain basic hermetic doctrines, passed on from teacher to student, which was known as "the kybalion," the exact significance and meaning of the term having been lost for several centuries. this teaching, however, is known to many to whom it has descended, from mouth to ear, on and on throughout the centuries. its precepts have never been written down, or printed, so far as we know. it was merely a collection of maxims, axioms, and precepts, which were non-understandable to outsiders, but which were readily understood by students, after the axioms, maxims, and precepts had been explained and exemplified by the hermetic initiates to their neophytes. these teachings really constituted the basic principles of "the art of hermetic alchemy," which, contrary to the general belief, dealt in the mastery of mental forces, rather than material elements-the transmutation of one kind of mental vibrations into others, instead of the changing of one kind of metal into another. the legends of the "philosopher's stone" which would turn base metal into gold, was an allegory relating to hermetic philosophy, readily understood by all students of true hermeticism. in this little book, of which this is the first lesson, we invite our students to examine into the hermetic teachings, as set forth in the kybalion, and as explained by ourselves, humble students of the teachings, who, while bearing the title of initiates, are still students at the feet of hermes, the master. we herein give you many of the maxims, axioms and precepts of the kybalion, accompanied by explanations and illustrations which we deem likely to render the teachings more easily comprehended by the modern student, particularly as the original text is purposely veiled in obscure terms. the original maxims, axioms, and precepts of the kybalion are printed herein, in italics, the proper credit being given. our own work is printed in the regular way, in the body of the work. we trust that the many students to whom we now offer this little work will derive as much benefit from the study of its pages as have the many who have gone on before, treading the same path to mastery throughout the centuries that have passed since the times of hermes trismegistus--the master of masters--the great-great. in the words of "the kybalion": "where fall the footsteps of the master, the ears of those ready for his teaching open wide."--the kybalion. "when the ears of the student are ready to hear, then cometh the lips to fill them with wisdom."--the kybalion. so that according to the teachings, the passage of this book to those ready for the instruction will attract the attention of such as are prepared to receive the teaching. and, likewise, when the pupil is ready to receive the truth, then will this little book come to him, or her. such is the law. the hermetic principle of cause and effect, in its aspect of the law of attraction, will bring lips and ear together--pupil and book in company. so mote it be! chapter ii the seven hermetic principles "the principles of truth are seven; he who knows these, understandingly, possesses the magic key before whose touch all the doors of the temple fly open."--the kybalion. the seven hermetic principles, upon which the entire hermetic philosophy is based, are as follows: . the principle of mentalism. . the principle of correspondence. . the principle of vibration. . the principle of polarity. . the principle of rhythm. . the principle of cause and effect. . the principle of gender. these seven principles will be discussed and explained as we proceed with these lessons. a short explanation of each, however, may as well be given at this point. . the principle of mentalism "the all is mind; the universe is mental."--the kybalion. this principle embodies the truth that "all is mind." it explains that the all (which is the substantial reality underlying all the outward manifestations and appearances which we know under the terms of "the material universe"; the "phenomena of life"; "matter"; "energy"; and, in short, all that is apparent to our material senses) is spirit which in itself is unknowable and undefinable, but which may be considered and thought of as an universal, infinite, living mind. it also explains that all the phenomenal world or universe is simply a mental creation of the all, subject to the laws of created things, and that the universe, as a whole, and in its parts or units, has its existence in the mind of the all, in which mind we "live and move and have our being." this principle, by establishing the mental nature of the universe, easily explains all of the varied mental and psychic phenomena that occupy such a large portion of the public attention, and which, without such explanation, are non-understandable and defy scientific treatment. an understanding of this great hermetic principle of mentalism enables the individual to readily grasp the laws of the mental universe, and to apply the same to his well-being and advancement. the hermetic student is enabled to apply intelligently the great mental laws, instead of using them in a haphazard manner. with the master-key in his possession, the student may unlock the many doors of the mental and psychic temple of knowledge, and enter the same freely and intelligently. this principle explains the true nature of "energy," "power," and "matter," and why and how all these are subordinate to the mastery of mind. one of the old hermetic masters wrote, long ages ago: "he who grasps the truth of the mental nature of the universe is well advanced on the path to mastery." and these words are as true today as at the time they were first written. without this master-key, mastery is impossible, and the student knocks in vain at the many doors of the temple. . the principle of correspondence "as above, so below; as below, so above."--the kybalion. this principle embodies the truth that there is always a correspondence between the laws and phenomena of the various planes of being and life. the old hermetic axiom ran in these words: "as above, so below; as below, so above." and the grasping of this principle gives one the means of solving many a dark paradox, and hidden secret of nature. there are planes beyond our knowing, but when we apply the principle of correspondence to them we are able to understand much that would otherwise be unknowable to us. this principle is of universal application and manifestation, on the various planes of the material, mental, and spiritual universe--it is an universal law. the ancient hermetists considered this principle as one of the most important mental instruments by which man was able to pry aside the obstacles which hid from view the unknown. its use even tore aside the veil of isis to the extent that a glimpse of the face of the goddess might be caught. just as a knowledge of the principles of geometry enables man to measure distant suns and their movements, while seated in his observatory, so a knowledge of the principle of correspondence enables man to reason intelligently from the known to the unknown. studying the monad, he understands the archangel. . the principle of vibration "nothing rests; everything moves; everything vibrates."--the kybalion. this principle embodies the truth that "everything is in motion"; "everything vibrates"; "nothing is at rest"; facts which modern science endorses, and which each new scientific discovery tends to verify. and yet this hermetic principle was enunciated thousands of years ago, by the masters of ancient egypt. this principle explains that the differences between different manifestations of matter, energy, mind, and even spirit, result largely from varying rates of vibration. from the all, which is pure spirit, down to the grossest form of matter, all is in vibration--the higher the vibration, the higher the position in the scale. the vibration of spirit is at such an infinite rate of intensity and rapidity that it is practically at rest--just as a rapidly moving wheel seems to be motionless. and at the other end of the scale, there are gross forms of matter whose vibrations are so low as to seem at rest. between these poles, there are millions upon millions of varying degrees of vibration. from corpuscle and electron, atom and molecule, to worlds and universes, everything is in vibratory motion. this is also true on the planes of energy and force (which are but varying degrees of vibration); and also on the mental planes (whose states depend upon vibrations); and even on to the spiritual planes. an understanding of this principle, with the appropriate formulas, enables hermetic students to control their own mental vibrations as well as those of others. the masters also apply this principle to the conquering of natural phenomena, in various ways. "he who understands the principle of vibration, has grasped the scepter of power," says one of the old writers. . the principle of polarity "everything is dual; everything has poles; everything has its pair of opposites; like and unlike are the same; opposites are identical in nature, but different in degree; extremes meet; all truths are but half-truths; all paradoxes may be reconciled."--the kybalion. this principle embodies the truth that "everything is dual"; "everything has two poles"; "everything has its pair of opposites," all of which were old hermetic axioms. it explains the old paradoxes, that have perplexed so many, which have been stated as follows: "thesis and antithesis are identical in nature, but different in degree"; "opposites are the same, differing only in degree"; "the pairs of opposites may be reconciled"; "extremes meet"; "everything is and isn't, at the same time"; "all truths are but half-truths"; "every truth is half-false"; "there are two sides to everything," etc., etc., etc. it explains that in everything there are two poles, or opposite aspects, and that "opposites" are really only the two extremes of the same thing, with many varying degrees between them. to illustrate: heat and cold, although "opposites," are really the same thing, the differences consisting merely of degrees of the same thing. look at your thermometer and see if you can discover where "heat" terminates and "cold" begins! there is no such thing as "absolute heat" or "absolute cold"--the two terms "heat" and "cold" simply indicate varying degrees of the same thing, and that "same thing" which manifests as "heat" and "cold" is merely a form, variety, and rate of vibration. so "heat" and "cold" are simply the "two poles" of that which we call "heat"--and the phenomena attendant thereupon are manifestations of the principle of polarity. the same principle manifests in the case of "light and darkness," which are the same thing, the difference consisting of varying degrees between the two poles of the phenomena. where does "darkness" leave off, and "light" begin? what is the difference between "large and small"? between "hard and soft"? between "black and white"? between "sharp and dull"? between "noise and quiet"? between "high and low"? between "positive and negative"? the principle of polarity explains these paradoxes, and no other principle can supersede it. the same principle operates on the mental plane. let us take a radical and extreme example--that of "love and hate," two mental states apparently totally different. and yet there are degrees of hate and degrees of love, and a middle point in which we use the terms "like or dislike," which shade into each other so gradually that sometimes we are at a loss to know whether we "like" or "dislike" or "neither." and all are simply degrees of the same thing, as you will see if you will but think a moment. and, more than this (and considered of more importance by the hermetists), it is possible to change the vibrations of hate to the vibrations of love, in one's own mind, and in the minds of others. many of you, who read these lines, have had personal experiences of the involuntary rapid transition from love to hate, and the reverse, in your own case and that of others. and you will therefore realize the possibility of this being accomplished by the use of the will, by means of the hermetic formulas. "good and evil" are but the poles of the same thing, and the hermetist understands the art of transmuting evil into good, by means of an application of the principle of polarity. in short, the "art of polarization" becomes a phase of "mental alchemy" known and practiced by the ancient and modern hermetic masters. an understanding of the principle will enable one to change his own polarity, as well as that of others, if he will devote the time and study necessary to master the art. . the principle of rhythm "everything flows, out and in; everything has its tides; all things rise and fall; the pendulum-swing manifests in everything; the measure of the swing to the right is the measure of the swing to the left; rhythm compensates."--the kybalion. this principle embodies the truth that in everything there is manifested a measured motion, to and fro; a flow and inflow; a swing backward and forward; a pendulum-like movement; a tide-like ebb and flow; a high-tide and low-tide; between the two poles which exist in accordance with the principle of polarity described a moment ago. there is always an action and a reaction; an advance and a retreat; a rising and a sinking. this is in the affairs of the universe, suns, worlds, men, animals, mind, energy, and matter. this law is manifest in the creation and destruction of worlds; in the rise and fall of nations; in the life of all things; and finally in the mental states of man (and it is with this latter that the hermetists find the understanding of the principle most important). the hermetists have grasped this principle, finding its universal application, and have also discovered certain means to overcome its effects in themselves by the use of the appropriate formulas and methods. they apply the mental law of neutralization. they cannot annul the principle, or cause it to cease its operation, but they have learned how to escape its effects upon themselves to a certain degree depending upon the mastery of the principle. they have learned how to use it, instead of being used by it. in this and similar methods, consist the art of the hermetists. the master of hermetics polarizes himself at the point at which he desires to rest, and then neutralizes the rhythmic swing of the pendulum which would tend to carry him to the other pole. all individuals who have attained any degree of self-mastery do this to a certain degree, more or less unconsciously, but the master does this consciously, and by the use of his will, and attains a degree of poise and mental firmness almost impossible of belief on the part of the masses who are swung backward and forward like a pendulum. this principle and that of polarity have been closely studied by the hermetists, and the methods of counteracting, neutralizing, and using them form an important part of the hermetic mental alchemy. . the principle of cause and effect "every cause has its effect; every effect has its cause; everything happens according to law; chance is but a name for law not recognized; there are many planes of causation, but nothing escapes the law."--the kybalion. this principle embodies the fact that there is a cause for every effect; an effect from every cause. it explains that: "everything happens according to law"; that nothing ever "merely happens"; that there is no such thing as chance; that while there are various planes of cause and effect, the higher dominating the lower planes, still nothing ever entirely escapes the law. the hermetists understand the art and methods of rising above the ordinary plane of cause and effect, to a certain degree, and by mentally rising to a higher plane they become causers instead of effects. the masses of people are carried along, obedient to environment; the wills and desires of others stronger than themselves; heredity; suggestion; and other outward causes moving them about like pawns on the chessboard of life. but the masters, rising to the plane above, dominate their moods, characters, qualities, and powers, as well as the environment surrounding them, and become movers instead of pawns. they help to play the game of life, instead of being played and moved about by other wills and environment. they use the principle instead of being its tools. the masters obey the causation of the higher planes, but they help to rule on their own plane. in this statement there is condensed a wealth of hermetic knowledge--let him read who can. . the principle of gender "gender is in everything; everything has its masculine and feminine principles; gender manifests on all planes."--the kybalion. this principle embodies the truth that there is gender manifested in everything--the masculine and feminine principles ever at work. this is true not only of the physical plane, but of the mental and even the spiritual planes. on the physical plane, the principle manifests as sex, on the higher planes it takes higher forms, but the principle is ever the same. no creation, physical, mental or spiritual, is possible without this principle. an understanding of its laws will throw light on many a subject that has perplexed the minds of men. the principle of gender works ever in the direction of generation, regeneration, and creation. everything, and every person, contains the two elements or principles, or this great principle, within it, him or her. every male thing has the female element also; every female contains also the male principle. if you would understand the philosophy of mental and spiritual creation, generation, and re-generation, you must understand and study this hermetic principle. it contains the solution of many mysteries of life. we caution you that this principle has no reference to the many base, pernicious and degrading lustful theories, teachings and practices, which are taught under fanciful titles, and which are a prostitution of the great natural principle of gender. such base revivals of the ancient infamous forms of phallicism tend to ruin mind, body and soul, and the hermetic philosophy has ever sounded the warning note against these degraded teachings which tend toward lust, licentiousness, and perversion of nature's principles. if you seek such teachings, you must go elsewhere for them--hermeticism contains nothing for you along these lines. to the pure, all things are pure; to the base, all things are base. chapter iii mental transmutation "mind (as well as metals and elements) may be transmuted, from state to state; degree to degree; condition to condition; pole to pole; vibration to vibration. true hermetic transmutation is a mental art."--the kybalion. as we have stated, the hermetists were the original alchemists, astrologers, and psychologists, hermes having been the founder of these schools of thought. from astrology has grown modern astronomy; from alchemy has grown modern chemistry; from the mystic psychology has grown the modern psychology of the schools. but it must not be supposed that the ancients were ignorant of that which the modern schools suppose to be their exclusive and special property. the records engraved on the stones of ancient egypt show conclusively that the ancients had a full comprehensive knowledge of astronomy, the very building of the pyramids showing the connection between their design and the study of astronomical science. nor were they ignorant of chemistry, for the fragments of the ancient writings show that they were acquainted with the chemical properties of things; in fact, the ancient theories regarding physics are being slowly verified by the latest discoveries of modern science, notably those relating to the constitution of matter. nor must it be supposed that they were ignorant of the so-called modern discoveries in psychology--on the contrary, the egyptians were especially skilled in the science of psychology, particularly in the branches that the modern schools ignore, but which, nevertheless, are being uncovered under the name of "psychic science" which is perplexing the psychologists of to-day, and making them reluctantly admit that "there may be something in it after all." the truth is, that beneath the material chemistry, astronomy and psychology (that is, the psychology in its phase of "brain-action") the ancients possessed a knowledge of transcendental astronomy, called astrology; of transcendental chemistry, called alchemy; of transcendental psychology, called mystic psychology. they possessed the inner knowledge as well as the outer knowledge, the latter alone being possessed by modern scientists. among the many secret branches of knowledge possessed by the hermetists, was that known as mental transmutation, which forms the subject matter of this lesson. "transmutation" is a term usually employed to designate the ancient art of the transmutation of metals--particularly of the base metals into gold. the word "transmute" means "to change from one nature, form, or substance, into another; to transform" (webster). and accordingly, "mental transmutation" means the art of changing and transforming mental states, forms, and conditions, into others. so you may see that mental transmutation is the "art of mental chemistry," if you like the term--a form of practical mystic psychology. but this means far more than appears on the surface. transmutation, alchemy, or chemistry on the mental plane is important enough in its effects, to be sure, and if the art stopped there it would still be one of the most important branches of study known to man. but this is only the beginning. let us see why! the first of the seven hermetic principles is the principle of mentalism, the axiom of which is "the all is mind; the universe is mental," which means that the underlying reality of the universe is mind; and the universe itself is mental--that is, "existing in the mind of the all." we shall consider this principle in succeeding lessons, but let us see the effect of the principle if it be assumed to be true. if the universe is mental in its nature, then mental transmutation must be the art of changing the conditions of the universe, along the lines of matter, force and mind. so you see, therefore, that mental transmutation is really the "magic" of which the ancient; writers had so much to say in their mystical works, and about which they gave so few practical instructions. if all be mental, then the art which enables one to transmute mental conditions must render the master the controller of material conditions as well as those ordinarily called "mental." as a matter of fact, none but advanced mental alchemists have been able to attain the degree of power necessary to control the grosser physical conditions, such as the control of the elements of nature; the production or cessation of tempests; the production and cessation of earthquakes and other great physical phenomena. but that such men have existed, and do exist today, is a matter of earnest belief to all advanced occultists of all schools. that the masters exist, and have these powers, the best teachers assure their students, having had experiences which justify them in such belief and statements. these masters do not make public exhibitions of their powers, but seek seclusion from the crowds of men, in order to better work their may along the path of attainment. we mention their existence, at this point, merely to call your attention to the fact that their power is entirely mental, and operates along the lines of the higher mental transmutation, under the hermetic principle of mentalism. "the universe is mental"--the kybalion. but students and hermetists of lesser degree than masters--the initiates and teachers--are able to freely work along the mental plane, in mental transmutation. in fact all that we call "psychic phenomena,"; "mental influence"; "mental science"; "new-thought phenomena," etc., operates along the same general lines, for there is but one principle involved, no matter by what name the phenomena be called. the student and practitioner of mental transmutation works among the mental plane, transmuting mental conditions, states, etc., into others, according to various formulas, more or less efficacious. the various "treatments," "affirmations," "denials" etc., of the schools of mental science are but formulas, often quite imperfect and unscientific, of the hermetic art. the majority of modern practitioners are quite ignorant compared to the ancient masters, for they lack the fundamental knowledge upon which the work is based. not only may the mental states, etc., of one's self be changed or transmuted by hermetic methods; but also the states of others may be, and are, constantly transmuted in the same way, usually unconsciously, but often consciously by some understanding the laws and principles, in cases where the people affected are not informed of the principles of self-protection. and more than this, as many students and practitioners of modern mental science know, every material condition depending upon the minds of other people may be changed or transmuted in accordance with the earnest desire, will, and "treatments" of person desiring changed conditions of life. the public are so generally informed regarding these things at present, that we do not deem it necessary to mention the same at length, our purpose at this point being merely to show the hermetic principle and art underlying all of these various forms of practice, good and evil, for the force can be used in opposite directions according to the hermetic principles of polarity. in this little book we shall state the basic principles of mental transmutation, that all who read may grasp the underlying principles, and thus possess the master-key that will unlock the many doors of the principle of polarity. we shall now proceed to a consideration of the first of the hermetic seven principles--the principle of mentalism, in which is explained the truth that "the all is mind; the universe is mental," in the words of the kybalion. we ask the close attention, and careful study of this great principle, on the part of our students, for it is really the basic principle of the whole hermetic philosophy, and of the hermetic art of mental transmutation. chapter iv the all "under, and back of, the universe of time, space and change, is ever to be found the substantial reality--the fundamental truth."--the kybalion. "substance" means: "that which underlies all outward manifestations; the essence; the essential reality; the thing in itself," etc. "substantial" means: "actually existing; being the essential element; being real," etc. "reality" means: "the state of being real; true, enduring; valid; fixed; permanent; actual," etc. under and behind all outward appearances or manifestations, there must always be a substantial reality. this is the law. man considering the universe, of which he is a unit, sees nothing but change in matter, forces, and mental states. he sees that nothing really is, but that everything is becoming and changing. nothing stands still-everything is being born, growing, dying-the very instant a thing reaches its height, it begins to decline--the law of rhythm is in constant operation--there is no reality, enduring quality, fixity, or substantiality in anything-- nothing is permanent but change. he sees all things evolving from other things, and resolving into other things--constant action and reaction; inflow and outflow; building up and tearing down; creation and destruction; birth, growth and death. nothing endures but change. and if he be a thinking man, he realizes that all of these changing things must be but outward appearances or manifestations of some underlying power--some substantial reality. all thinkers, in all lands and in all times, have assumed the necessity for postulating the existence of this substantial reality. all philosophies worthy of the name have been based upon this thought. men have given to this substantial reality many names-some have called it by the term of deity (under many titles). others have called it "the infinite and eternal energy" others have tried to call it "matter"--but all have acknowledged its existence. it is self-evident it needs no argument. in these lessons we have followed the example of some of the world's greatest thinkers, both ancient and modern--the hermetic. masters--and have called this underlying power--this substantial reality--by the hermetic name of "the all," which term we consider the most comprehensive of the many terms applied by man to that which transcends names and terms. we accept and teach the view of the great hermetic thinkers of all times, as well as of those illumined souls who have reached higher planes of being, both of whom assert that the inner nature of the all is unknowable. this must be so, for naught by the all itself can comprehend its own nature and being. the hermetists believe and teach that the all, "in itself," is and must ever be unknowable. they regard all the theories, guesses and speculations of the theologians and metaphysicians regarding the inner nature of the all, as but the childish efforts of mortal minds to grasp the secret of the infinite. such efforts have always failed and will always fail, from the very nature of the task. one pursuing such inquiries travels around and around in the labyrinth of thought, until he is lost to all sane reasoning, action or conduct, and is utterly unfitted for the work of life. he is like the squirrel which frantically runs around and around the circling treadmill wheel of his cage, traveling ever and yet reaching nowhere--at the end a prisoner still, and standing just where he started. and still more presumptuous are those who attempt to ascribe to the all the personality, qualities, properties, characteristics and attributes of themselves, ascribing to the all the human emotions, feelings, and characteristics, even down to the pettiest qualities of mankind, such as jealousy, susceptibility to flattery and praise, desire for offerings and worship, and all the other survivals from the days of the childhood of the race. such ideas are not worthy of grown men and women, and are rapidly being discarded. (at this point, it may be proper for me to state that we make a distinction between religion and theology--between philosophy and metaphysics. religion, to us, means that intuitional realization of the existence of the all, and one's relationship to it; while theology means the attempts of men to ascribe personality, qualities, and characteristics to it; their theories regarding its affairs, will, desires, plans, and designs, and their assumption of the office of '' middle-men'' between the all and the people. philosophy, to us, means the inquiry after knowledge of things knowable and thinkable; while metaphysics means the attempt to carry the inquiry over and beyond the boundaries and into regions unknowable and unthinkable, and with the same tendency as that of theology. and consequently, both religion and philosophy mean to us things having roots in reality, while theology and metaphysics seem like broken reeds, rooted in the quicksands of ignorance, and affording naught but the most insecure support for the mind or soul of man. we do not insist upon our students accepting these definitions--we mention them merely to show our position. at any rate, you shall hear very little about theology and metaphysics in these lessons.) but while the essential nature of the all is unknowable, there are certain truths connected with its existence which the human mind finds itself compelled to accept. and an examination of these reports form a proper subject of inquiry, particularly as they agree with the reports of the illumined on higher planes. and to this inquiry we now invite you. "that which is the fundamental truth--the substantial reality--is beyond true naming, but the wise men call it the all."--the kybalion. "in its essence, the all is unknowable."--the kybalion. "but, the report of reason must be hospitably received, and treated with respect."--the kybalion. the human reason, whose reports we must accept so long as we think at all, informs us as follows regarding the all, and that without attempting to remove the veil of the unknowable: ( ) the all must be all that really is. there can be nothing existing outside of the all, else the all would not be the all. ( ) the all must be infinite, for there is nothing else to define, confine, bound, limit; or restrict the all. it must be infinite in time, or eternal,--it must have always continuously existed, for there is nothing else to have ever created it, and something can never evolve from nothing, and if it had ever "not been," even for a moment, it would not "be" now,--it must continuously exist forever, for there is nothing to destroy it, and it can never "not-be," even for a moment, because something can never become nothing. it must be infinite in space--it must be everywhere, for there is no place outside of the all--it cannot be otherwise than continuous in space, without break, cessation, separation, or interruption, for there is nothing to break, separate, or interrupt its continuity, and nothing with which to "fill in the gaps." it must be infinite in power, or absolute, for there is nothing to limit, restrict, restrain, confine, disturb or condition it--it is subject to no other power, for there is no other power. ( ) the all must be immutable, or not subject to change in its real nature, for there is nothing to work changes upon it nothing into which it could change, nor from which it could have changed. it cannot be added to nor subtracted from; increased nor diminished; nor become greater or lesser in any respect whatsoever. it must have always been, and must always remain, just what it is now--the all--there has never been, is not now, and never will be, anything else into which it can change. the all being infinite, absolute, eternal and unchangeable it must follow that anything finite, changeable, fleeting, and conditioned cannot be the all. and as there is nothing outside of the all, in reality, then any and all such finite things must be as nothing in reality. now do not become befogged, nor frightened--we are not trying to lead you into the christian science field under cover of hermetic philosophy. there is a reconciliation of this apparently contradictory state of affairs. be patient, we will reach it in time. we see around us that which is called "matter," which forms the physical foundation for all forms. is the all merely matter? not at all! matter cannot manifest life or mind, and as life and mind are manifested in the universe, the all cannot be matter, for nothing rises higher than its own source--nothing is ever manifested in an effect that is not in the cause--nothing is evolved as a consequent that is not involved as an antecedent. and then modern science informs us that there is really no such thing as matter--that what we call matter is merely "interrupted energy or force," that is, energy or force at a low rate of vibration. as a recent writer has said "matter has melted into mystery." even material science has abandoned the theory of matter, and now rests on the basis of "energy." then is the all mere energy or force? not energy or force as the materialists use the terms, for their energy and force are blind, mechanical things, devoid of life or mind. life and mind can never evolve from blind energy or force, for the reason given a moment ago: "nothing can rise higher than its source--nothing is evolved unless it is involved--nothing manifests in the effect, unless it is in the cause. " and so the all cannot be mere energy or force, for, if it were, then there would be no such things as life and mind in existence, and we know better than that, for we are alive and using mind to consider this very question, and so are those who claim that energy or force is everything. what is there then higher than matter or energy that we know to be existent in the universe? life and mind! life and mind in all their varying degrees of unfoldment! "then," you ask, "do you mean to tell us that the all is life and mind?" yes! and no! is our answer. if you mean life and mind as we poor petty mortals know them, we say no! the all is not that! "but what kind of life and mind do you mean?" you ask. the answer is "living mind," as far above that which mortals know by those words, as life and mind are higher than mechanical forces, or matter--infinite living mind as compared to finite "life and mind." we mean that which the illumined souls mean when they reverently pronounce the word: "spirit!" "the all" is infinite living mind--the illumined call it spirit! chapter v the mental universe "the universe is mental--held in the mind of the all."--the kybalion. the all is spirit! but what is spirit? this question cannot be answered, for the reason that its definition is practically that of the all, which cannot be explained or defined. spirit is simply a name that men give to the highest conception of infinite living mind--it means "the real essence"--it means living mind, as much superior to life and mind as we know them, as the latter are superior to mechanical energy and matter. spirit transcends our understanding, and we use the term merely that we may think or speak of the all. for the purposes of thought and understanding, we are justified in thinking of spirit as infinite living mind, at the same time acknowledging that we cannot fully understand it. we must either do this or stop thinking of the matter at all. let us now proceed to a consideration of the nature of the universe, as a whole and in its parts. what is the universe? we have seen that there can be nothing outside of the all. then is the universe the all? no, this cannot be, because the universe seems to be made up of many, and is constantly changing, and in other ways it does not measure up to the ideas that we are compelled to accept regarding the all, as stated in our last lesson. then if the universe be not the all, then it must be nothing--such is the inevitable conclusion of the mind at first thought. but this will not satisfy the question, for we are sensible of the existence of the universe. then if the universe is neither the all, nor nothing, what can it be? let us examine this question. if the universe exists at all, or seems to exist, it must proceed in some way from the all--it must be a creation of the all. but as something can never come from nothing, from what could the all have created it. some philosophers have answered this question by saying that the all created the universe from itself--that is, from the being and substance of the all. but this will not do, for the all cannot be subtracted from, nor divided, as we have seen, and then again if this be so, would not each particle in the universe be aware of its being the all--the all could not lose its knowledge of itself, nor actually become an atom, or blind force, or lowly living thing. some men, indeed, realizing that the all is indeed all, and also recognizing that they, the men, existed, have jumped to the conclusion that they and the all were identical, and they have filled the air with shouts of "i am god," to the amusement of the multitude and the sorrow of sages. the claim of the corpuscle that: "i am man!" would be modest in comparison. but, what indeed is the universe, if it be not the all, not yet created by the all having separated itself into fragments? what else can it be-- of what else can it be made? this is the great question. let us examine it carefully. we find here that the "principle of correspondence" (see lesson i.) comes to our aid here. the old hermetic axiom, "as above so below," may be pressed into service at this point. let us endeavor to get a glimpse of the workings on higher planes by examining those on our own. the principle of correspondence must apply to this as well as to other problems. let us see! on his own plane of being, how does man create? well, first, he may create by making something out of outside materials. but this will not do, for there are no materials outside of the all with which it may create. well, then, secondly, man pro-creates or reproduces his kind by the process of begetting, which is self-multiplication accomplished by transferring a portion of his substance to his offspring. but this will not do, because the all cannot transfer or subtract a portion of itself, nor can it reproduce or multiply itself--in the first place there would be a taking away, and in the second case a multiplication or addition to the all, both thoughts being an absurdity. is there no third way in which man creates? yes, there is--he creates mentally! and in so doing he uses no outside materials, nor does he reproduce himself, and yet his spirit pervades the mental creation. following the principle of correspondence, we are justified in considering that the all creates the universe mentally, in a manner akin to the process whereby man creates mental images. and, here is where the report of reason tallies precisely with the report of the illumined, as shown by their teachings and writings. such are the teachings of the wise men. such was the teaching of hermes. the all can create in no other way except mentally, without either using material (and there is none to use), or else reproducing itself (which is also impossible). there is no escape from this conclusion of the reason, which, as we have said, agrees with the highest teachings of the illumined. just as you, student, may create a universe of your own in your mentality, so does the all create universes in its own mentality. but your universe is the mental creation of a finite mind, whereas that of the all is the creation of an infinite. the two are similar in kind, but infinitely different in degree. we shall examine more closely into the process of creation and manifestation as we proceed. but this is the point to fix in your minds at this stage: the universe, and all it contains, is a mental creation of the all. verily indeed, all is mind! "the all creates in its infinite mind countless universes, which exist for aeons of time--and yet, to the all, the creation, development, decline and death of a million universes is as the time of the twinkling of an eye."--the kybalion. "the infinite mind of the all is the womb of universes."--the kybalion. the principle of gender (see lesson i. and other lessons to follow) is manifested on all planes of life, material mental and spiritual. but, as we have said before, "gender" does not mean "sex" sex is merely a material manifestation of gender. "gender" means "relating to generation or creation." and whenever anything is generated or created, on any plane, the principle of gender must be manifested. and this is true even in the creation of universes. now do not jump to the conclusion that we are teaching that there is a male and female god, or creator. that idea is merely a distortion of the ancient teachings on the subject. the true teaching is that the all, in itself, is above gender, as it is above every other law, including those of time and space. it is the law, from which the laws proceed, and it is not subject to them. but when the all manifests on the plane of generation or creation, then it acts according to law and principle, for it is moving on a lower plane of being. and consequently it manifests the principle of gender, in its masculine and feminine aspects, on the mental plane, of course. this idea may seem startling to some of you who hear it for the first time, but you have all really passively accepted it in your everyday conceptions. you speak of the fatherhood of god, and the motherhood of nature--of god, the divine father, and nature the universal mother--and have thus instinctively acknowledged the principle of gender in the universe. is this not so? but, the hermetic teaching does not imply a real duality--the all is one--the two aspects are merely aspects of manifestation. the teaching is that the masculine principle manifested by the all stands, in a way, apart from the actual mental creation of the universe. it projects its will toward the feminine principle (which may be called "nature") whereupon the latter begins the actual work of the evolution of the universe, from simple "centers of activity" on to man, and then on and on still higher, all according to well-established and firmly enforced laws of nature. if you prefer the old figures of thought, you may think of the masculine principle as god, the father, and of the feminine principle as nature, the universal mother, from whose womb all things have been born. this is more than a mere poetic figure of speech--it is an idea of the actual process of the creation of the universe. but always remember, that the all is but one, and that in its infinite mind the universe is generated, created and exists. it may help you to get the proper idea, if you will apply the law of correspondence to yourself, and your own mind. you know that the part of you which you call "i," in a sense, stands apart and witnesses the creation of mental images in your own mind. the part of your mind in which the mental generation is accomplished may be called the "me" in distinction from the "i" which stands apart and witnesses and examines the thoughts, ideas and images of the "me." "as above, so below," remember, and the phenomena of one plane may be employed to solve the riddles of higher or lower planes. is it any wonder that you, the child, feel that instinctive reverence for the all, which feeling we call "religion"--that respect, and reverence for the father mind? is it any wonder that, when you consider the works and wonders of nature, you are overcome with a mighty feeling which has its roots away down in your inmost being? it is the mother mind that you are pressing close up to, like a babe to the breast. do not make the mistake of supposing that the little world you see around you--the earth, which is a mere grain of dust in the universe--is the universe itself. there are millions upon millions of such worlds, and greater. and there are millions of millions of such universes in existence within the infinite mind of the all. and even in our own little solar system there are regions and planes of life far higher than ours, and beings compared to which we earth-bound mortals are as the slimy life-forms that dwell on the ocean's bed when compared to man. there are beings with powers and attributes higher than man has ever dreamed of the gods' possessing. and yet these beings were once as you, and still lower--and you will be even as they, and still higher, in time, for such is the destiny of man as reported by the illumined. and death is not real, even in the relative sense--it is but birth to a new life--and you shall go on, and on, and on, to higher and still higher planes of life, for aeons upon aeons of time. the universe is your home, and you shall explore its farthest recesses before the end of time. you are dwelling in the infinite mind of the all, and your possibilities and opportunities are infinite, both in time and space. and at the end of the grand cycle of aeons, when the all shall draw back into itself all of its creations--you will go gladly for you will then be able to know the whole truth of being at one with the all. such is the report of the illumined--those who have advanced well along the path. and, in the meantime, rest calm and serene--you are safe and protected by the infinite power of the father-mother mind. "within the father-mother mind, mortal children are at home."--the kybalion. "there is not one who is fatherless, nor motherless in the universe."--the kybalion. chapter vi the divine paradox "the half-wise, recognizing the comparative unreality of the universe, imagine that they may defy its laws--such are vain and presumptuous fools, and they are broken against the rocks and torn asunder by the elements by reason of their folly. the truly wise, knowing the nature of the universe, use law against laws; the higher against the lower; and by the art of alchemy transmute that which is undesirable into that which is worthy, and thus triumph. mastery consists not in abnormal dreams, visions and fantastic imaginings or living, but in using the higher forces against the lower--escaping the pains of the lower planes by vibrating on the higher. transmutation, not presumptuous denial, is the weapon of the master."--the kybalion. this is the paradox of the universe, resulting from the principle of polarity which manifests when the all begins to create--hearken to it for it points the difference between half-wisdom and wisdom. while to the infinite all, the universe, its laws, its powers, its life, its phenomena, are as things witnessed in the state of meditation or dream; yet to all that is finite, the universe must be treated as real, and life, and action, and thought, must be based thereupon, accordingly, although with an ever understanding of the higher truth. each according to its own plane and laws. were the all to imagine that the universe were indeed reality, then woe to the universe, for there would be then no escape from lower to higher, divineward--then would the universe become a fixity and progress would become impossible. and if man, owing to half-wisdom, acts and lives and thinks of the universe as merely a dream (akin to his own finite dreams) then indeed does it so become for him, and like a sleep-walker he stumbles ever around and around in a circle, making no progress, and being forced into an awakening at last by his falling bruised and bleeding over the natural laws which he ignored. keep your mind ever on the star, but let your eyes watch over your footsteps, lest you fall into the mire by reason of your upward gaze. remember the divine paradox, that while the universe is not, still it is. remember ever the two poles of truth the absolute and the relative. beware of half-truths. what hermetists know as "the law of paradox" is an aspect of the principle of polarity. the hermetic writings are filled with references to the appearance of the paradox in the consideration of the problems of life and being. the teachers are constantly warning their students against the error of omitting the "other side" of any question. and their warnings are particularly directed to the problems of the absolute and the relative, which perplex all students of philosophy, and which cause so many to think and act contrary to what is generally known as "common sense." and we caution all students to be sure to grasp the divine paradox of the absolute and relative, lest they become entangled in the mire of the half-truth. with this in view this particular lesson has been written. read it carefully! the first thought that comes to the thinking man after he realizes the truth that the universe is a mental creation of the all, is that the universe and all that it contains is a mere illusion; an unreality; against which idea his instincts revolt. but this, like all other great truths, must be considered both from the absolute and the relative points of view. from the absolute viewpoint, of course, the universe is in the nature of an illusion, a dream, a phantasmagoria, as compared to the all in itself. we recognize this even in our ordinary view, for we speak of the world as "a fleeting show" that comes and goes, is born and dies--for the element of impermanence and change, finiteness and unsubstantiality, must ever be connected with the idea of a created universe when it is contrasted with the idea of the all, no matter what may be our beliefs concerning the nature of both. philosopher, metaphysician, scientist and theologian all agree upon this idea, and the thought is found in all forms of philosophical thought and religious conceptions, as well as in the theories of the respective schools of metaphysics and theology. so, the hermetic teachings do not preach the unsubstantiality of the universe in any stronger terms than those more familiar to you, although their presentation of the subject may seem somewhat more startling. anything that has a beginning and an ending must be, in a sense, unreal and untrue, and the universe comes under the rule, in all schools of thought. from the absolute point of view, there is nothing real except the all, no matter what terms we may use in thinking of, or discussing the subject. whether the universe be created of matter, or whether it be a mental creation in the mind of the all--it is unsubstantial, non-enduring, a thing of time, space and change. we want you to realize this fact thoroughly, before you pass judgment on the hermetic conception of the mental nature of the universe. think over any and all of the other conceptions, and see whether this be not true of them. but the absolute point of view shows merely one side of the picture--the other side is the relative one. absolute truth has been defined as "things as the mind of god knows them," while relative truth is "things as the highest reason of man understands them." and so while to the all the universe must be unreal and illusionary, a mere dream or result of meditation,--nevertheless, to the finite minds forming a part of that universe, and viewing it through mortal faculties, the universe is very real indeed, and must be so considered. in recognizing the absolute view, we must not make the mistake of ignoring or denying the facts and phenomena of the universe as they present themselves to our mortal faculties--we are not the all, remember. to take familiar illustrations, we all recognize the fact that matter "exists" to our senses--we will fare badly if we do not. and yet, even our finite minds understand the scientific dictum that there is no such thing as matter from a scientific point of view--that which we call matter is held to be merely an aggregation of atoms, which atoms themselves are merely a grouping of units of force, called electrons or "ions," vibrating and in constant circular motion. we kick a stone and we feel the impact--it seems to be real, notwithstanding that we know it to be merely what we have stated above. but remember that our foot, which feels the impact by means of our brains, is likewise matter, so constituted of electrons, and for that matter so are our brains. and, at the best, if it were not by reason of our mind, we would not know the foot or stone at all. then again, the ideal of the artist or sculptor, which he is endeavoring to reproduce in stone or on canvas, seems very real to him. so do the characters in the mind of the author; or dramatist, which he seeks to express so that others may recognize them. and if this be true in the case of our finite minds, what must be the degree of reality in the mental images created in the mind of the infinite? oh, friends, to mortals this universe of mentality is very real indeed--it is the only one we can ever know, though we rise from plane to plane, higher and higher in it. to know it otherwise, but actual experience, we must be the all itself. it is true that the higher we rise in the scale--the nearer to "the mind of the father" we reach--the more apparent becomes the illusory nature of finite things, but not until the all finally withdraws us into itself does the vision actually vanish. so, we need not dwell upon the feature of illusion. rather let us, recognizing the real nature of the universe, seek to understand its mental laws, and endeavor to use them to the best effect in our upward progress through life, as we travel from plane to plane of being. the laws of the universe are none the less "iron laws" because of the mental nature. all, except the all, are bound by them. what is in the infinite mind of the all is real in a degree second only to that reality itself which is vested in the nature of the all. so, do not feel insecure or afraid--we are all held firmly in the infinite mind of the all, and there is naught to hurt us or for us to fear. there is no power outside of the all to affect us. so we may rest calm and secure. there is a world of comfort and security in this realization when once attained. then "calm and peaceful do we sleep, rocked in the cradle of the deep"--resting safely on the bosom of the ocean of infinite mind, which is the all. in the all, indeed, do "we live and move and have our being." matter is none the less matter to us, while we dwell on the plane of matter, although we know it to be merely an aggregation of "electrons," or particles of force, vibrating rapidly and gyrating around each other in the formations of atoms; the atoms in turn vibrating and gyrating, forming molecules, which latter in turn form larger masses of matter. nor does matter become less matter, when we follow the inquiry still further, and learn from the hermetic teachings, that the "force" of which the electrons are but units is merely a manifestation of the mind of the all, and like all else in the universe is purely mental in its nature. while on the plane of matter, we must recognize its phenomena-- we may control matter (as all masters of higher or lesser degree do), but we do so by applying the higher forces. we commit a folly when we attempt to deny the existence of matter in the relative aspect. we may deny its mastery over us--and rightly so--but we should not attempt to ignore it in its relative aspect, at least so long as we dwell upon its plane. nor do the laws of nature become less constant or effective, when we know them, likewise, to be merely mental creations. they are in full effect on the various planes. we overcome the lower laws, by applying still higher ones--and in this way only. but we cannot escape law or rise above it entirely. nothing but the all can escape law--and that because the all is law itself, from which all laws emerge. the most advanced masters may acquire the powers usually attributed to the gods of men; and there are countless ranks of being, in the great hierarchy of life, whose being and power transcends even that of the highest masters among men to a degree unthinkable by mortals, but even the highest master, and the highest being, must bow to the law, and be as nothing in the eye of the all. so that if even these highest beings, whose powers exceed even those attributed by men to their gods--if even these are bound by and are subservient to law, then imagine the presumption of mortal man, of our race and grade, when he dares to consider the laws of nature as "unreal!" visionary and illusory, because he happens to be able to grasp the truth that the laws are mental in nature, and simply mental creations of the all. those laws which the all intends to be governing laws are not to be defied or argued away. so long as the universe endures, will they endure--for the universe exists by virtue of these laws which form its framework and which hold it together. the hermetic principle of mentalism, while explaining the true nature of the universe upon the principle that all is mental, does not change the scientific conceptions of the universe, life, or evolution. in fact, science merely corroborates the hermetic teachings. the latter merely teaches that the nature of the universe is "mental," while modern science has taught that it is "material"; or (of late) that it is "energy" at the last analysis. the hermetic teachings have no fault to find with herbert spencer's basic principle which postulates the existence of an "infinite and eternal energy, from which all things proceed." in fact, the hermetics recognize in spencer's philosophy the highest outside statement of the workings of the natural laws that have ever been promulgated, and they believe spencer to have been a reincarnation of an ancient philosopher who dwelt in ancient egypt thousands of years ago, and who later incarnated as heraclitus, the grecian philosopher who lived b. c. . and they regard his statement of the "infinite and eternal energy" as directly in the line of the hermetic teachings, always with the addition of their own doctrine that his "energy" is the energy of the mind of the all. with the master-key of the hermetic philosophy, the student of spencer will be able to unlock many doors of the inner philosophical conceptions of the great english philosopher, whose work shows the results of the preparation of his previous incarnations. his teachings regarding evolution and rhythm are in almost perfect agreement with the hermetic teachings regarding the principle of rhythm. so, the student of hermetics need not lay aside any of his cherished scientific views regarding the universe. all he is asked to do is to grasp the underlying principle of "the all is mind; the universe is mental--held in the mind of the all." he will find that the other six of the seven principles will "fit into" his scientific knowledge, and will serve to bring out obscure points and to throw light in dark corners. this is not to be wondered at, when we realize the influence of the hermetic thought of the early philosophers of greece, upon whose foundations of thought the theories of modern science largely rest. the acceptance of the first hermetic principle (mentalism) is the only great point of difference between modern science and hermetic students, and science is gradually moving toward the hermetic position in its groping in the dark for a way out of the labyrinth into which it has wandered in its search for reality. the purpose of this lesson is to impress upon the minds of our students the fact that, to all intents and purposes, the universe and its laws, and its phenomena, are just as real, so far as man is concerned, as they would be under the hypotheses of materialism or energism. under any hypothesis the universe in its outer aspect is changing, ever-flowing, and transitory--and therefore devoid of substantiality and reality. but (note the other pole of the truth) under the same hypotheses, we are compelled to act and live as if the fleeting things were real and substantial. with this difference, always, between the various hypotheses--that under the old views mental power was ignored as a natural force, while under mentalism it becomes the greatest natural force. and this one difference revolutionizes life, to those who understand the principle and its resulting laws and practice. so, finally, students all, grasp the advantage of mentalism, and learn to know, use and apply the laws resulting therefrom. but do not yield to the temptation which, as the kybalion states, overcomes the half-wise and which causes them to be hypnotized by the apparent unreality of things, the consequence being that they wander about like dream-people dwelling in a world of dreams, ignoring the practical work and life of man, the end being that "they are broken against the rocks and torn asunder by the elements, by reason of their folly." rather follow the example of the wise, which the same authority states, "use law against laws; the higher against the lower; and by the art of alchemy transmute that which is undesirable into that which is worthy, and thus triumph." following the authority, let us avoid the half-wisdom (which is folly) which ignores the truth that: "mastery consists not in abnormal dreams, visions, and fantastic imaginings or living, but in using the higher forces against the lower--escaping the pains of the lower planes by vibrating on the higher." remember always, student, that "transmutation, not presumptuous denial, is the weapon of the master." the above quotations are from the kybalion, and are worthy of being committed to memory by the student. we do not live in a world of dreams, but in an universe which while relative, is real so far as our lives and actions are concerned. our business in the universe is not to deny its existence, but to live, using the laws to rise from lower to higher--living on, doing the best that we can under the circumstances arising each day, and living, so far as is possible, to our biggest ideas and ideals. the true meaning of life is not known to men on this plane .if, indeed, to any--but the highest authorities, and our own intuitions, teach us that we will make no mistake in living up to the best that is in us, so far as is possible, and realising the universal tendency in the same direction in spite of apparent evidence to the contrary. we are all on the path--and the road leads upward ever, with frequent resting places. read the message of the kybalion--and follow the example of "the wise"--avoiding the mistake of "the half-wise" who perish by reason of their folly. chapter vii "the all" in all "while all is in the all, it is equally true that the all is in all. to him who truly understands this truth hath come great knowledge."--the kybalion. how often have the majority of people heard repeated the statement that their deity (called by many names) was "all in all" and how little have they suspected the inner occult truth concealed by these carelessly uttered words? the commonly used expression is a survival of the ancient hermetic maxim quoted above. as the kybalion says: "to him who truly understands this truth, hath come great knowledge." and, this being so, let us seek this truth, the understanding of which means so much. in this statement of truth--this hermetic maxim--is concealed one of the greatest philosophical, scientific and religious truths. we have given you the hermetic teaching regarding the mental nature of the universe--the truth that "the universe is mental--held in the mind of the all." as the kybalion says, in the passage quoted above: "all is in the all." but note also the co-related statement, that: "it is equally true that the all is in all." this apparently contradictory statement is reconcilable under the law of paradox. it is, moreover, an exact hermetic statement of the relations existing between the all and its mental universe. we have seen how "all is in the all"--now let us examine the other aspect of the subject. the hermetic teachings are to the effect that the all is imminent in ("remaining within; inherent; abiding within") its universe, and in every part, particle, unit, or combination, within the universe. this statement is usually illustrated by the teachers by a reference to the principle of correspondence. the teacher instructs the student to form a mental image of something, a person, an idea, something having a mental form, the favorite example being that of the author or dramatist forming an idea of his characters; or a painter or sculptor forming an image of an ideal that he wishes to express by his art. in each case, the student will find that while the image has its existence, and being, solely within his own mind, yet he, the student, author, dramatist, painter, or sculptor, is, in a sense, immanent in; remaining within; or abiding within, the mental image also. in other words, the entire virtue, life, spirit, of reality in the mental image is derived from the "immanent mind" of the thinker. consider this for a moment, until the idea is grasped. to take a modern example, let us say that othello, iago, hamlet, lear, richard iii, existed merely in the mind of shakespeare, at the time of their conception or creation. and yet, shakespeare also existed within each of these characters, giving them their vitality, spirit, and action. whose is the "spirit" of the characters that we know as micawber, oliver twist, uriah heep--is it dickens, or have each of these characters a personal spirit, independent of their creator? have the venus of medici, the sistine madonna, the apollo belvidere, spirits and reality of their own, or do they represent the spiritual and mental power of their creators? the law of paradox explains that both propositions are true, viewed from the proper viewpoints. micawber is both micawber, and yet dickens. and, again, while micawber may be said to be dickens, yet dickens is not identical with micawber. man, like micawber, may exclaim: "the spirit of my creator is inherent within me-- and yet i am not he!" how different this from the shocking half-truth so vociferously announced by certain of the half-wise, who fill the air with their raucous cries of: "i am god!" imagine poor micawber, or the sneaky uriah heep, crying: "i am dickens"; or some of the lowly clods in one of shakespeare's plays, eloquently announcing that: "i am shakespeare!" the all is in the earthworm, and yet the earth-worm is far from being the all. and still the wonder remains, that though the earth-worm exists merely as a lowly thing, created and having its being solely within the mind of the all--yet the all is immanent in the earthworm, and in the particles that go to make up the earth-worm. can there be any greater mystery than this of "all in the all; and the all in all?" the student will, of course, realize that the illustrations given above are necessarily imperfect and inadequate, for they represent the creation of mental images in finite minds, while the universe is a creation of infinite mind--and the difference between the two poles separates them. and yet it is merely a matter of degree--the same principle is in operation--the principle of correspondence manifests in each--"as above, so below; as below, so above." and, in the degree that man realizes the existence of the indwelling spirit immanent within his being, so will he rise in the spiritual scale of life. this is what spiritual development means--the recognition, realization, and manifestation of the spirit within us. try to remember this last definition--that of spiritual development. it contains the truth of true religion. there are many planes of being--many sub-planes of life--many degrees of existence in the universe. and all depend upon the advancement of beings in the scale, of which scale the lowest point is the grossest matter, the highest being separated only by the thinnest division from the spirit of the all. and, upward and onward along this scale of life, everything is moving. all are on the path, whose end is the all. all progress is a returning home. all is upward and onward, in spite of all seemingly contradictory appearances. such is the message of the illumined. the hermetic teachings concerning the process of the mental creation of the universe, are that at the beginning of the creative cycle, the all, in its aspect of being, projects its will toward its aspect of "becoming" and the process of creation begins. it is taught that the process consists of the lowering of vibration until a very low degree of vibratory energy is reached, at which point the grossest possible form of matter is manifested. this process is called the stage of involution, in which the all becomes "involved," or "wrapped up," in its creation. this process is believed by the hermetists to have a correspondence to the mental process of an artist, writer, or inventor, who becomes so wrapped up in his mental creation as to almost forget his own existence and who, for the time being, almost "lives in his creation," if instead of "wrapped" we use the word "rapt," perhaps we will give a better idea of what is meant. this involuntary stage of creation is sometimes called the "outpouring" of the divine energy, just as the evolutionary state is called the "indrawing." the extreme pole of the creative process is considered to be the furthest removed from the all, while the beginning of the evolutionary stage is regarded as the beginning of the return swing of the pendulum of rhythm--a "coming home" idea being held in all of the hermetic teachings. the teachings are that during the "outpouring," the vibrations become lower and lower until finally the urge ceases, and the return swing begins. but there is this difference, that while in the "outpouring" the creative forces manifest compactly and as a whole, yet from the beginning of the evolutionary or "indrawing" stage, there is manifested the law of individualization--that is, the tendency to separate into units of force, so that finally that which left the all as unindividualized energy returns to its source as countless highly developed units of life, having risen higher and higher in the scale by means of physical, mental and spiritual evolution. the ancient hermetists use the word "meditation" in describing the process of the mental creation of the universe in the mind of the all, the word "contemplation" also being frequently employed. but the idea intended seems to be that of the employment of the divine attention. "attention" is a word derived from the latin root, meaning "to reach out; to stretch out," and so the act of attention is really a mental "reaching out; extension" of mental energy, so that the underlying idea is readily understood when we examine into the real meaning of "attention." the hermetic teachings regarding the process of evolution are that, the all, having meditated upon the beginning of the creation--having thus established the material foundations of the universe--having thought it into existence--then gradually awakens or rouses from its meditation and in so doing starts into manifestation the process of evolution, on the material mental and spiritual planes, successively and in order. thus the upward movement begins--and all begins to move spiritward. matter becomes less gross; the units spring into being; the combinations begin to form; life appears and manifests in higher and higher forms; and mind becomes more and more in evidence--the vibrations constantly becoming higher. in short, the entire process of evolution, in all of its phases, begins, and proceeds according to the established "laws of the indrawing" process. all of this occupies aeons upon aeons of man's time, each aeon containing countless millions of years, but yet the illumined inform us that the entire creation, including involution and evolution, of an universe, is but "as the twinkle of the eye" to the all. at the end of countless cycles of aeons of time, the all withdraws its attention--its contemplation and meditation--of the universe, for the great work is finished--and all is withdrawn into the all from which it emerged. but mystery of mysteries--the spirit of each soul is not annihilated, but is infinitely expanded--the created and the creator are merged. such is the report of the illumined! the above illustration of the "meditation," and subsequent "awakening from meditation," of the all, is of course but an attempt of the teachers to describe the infinite process by a finite example. and, yet: "as below, so above." the difference is merely in degree. and just as the all arouses itself from the meditation upon the universe, so does man (in time) cease from manifesting upon the material plane, and withdraws himself more and more into the indwelling spirit, which is indeed "the divine ego." there is one more matter of which we desire to speak in this lesson, and that comes very near to an invasion of the metaphysical field of speculation, although our purpose is merely to show the futility of such speculation. we allude to the question which inevitably comes to the mind of all thinkers who have ventured to seek the truth. the question is: "why does the all create universes" the question may be asked in different forms, but the above is the gist of the inquiry. men have striven hard to answer this question, but still there is no answer worthy of the name. some have imagined that the all had something to gain by it, but this is absurd, for what could the all gain that it did not already possess? others have sought the answer in the idea that the all "wished something to love" and others that it created for pleasure, or amusement; or because it "was lonely" or to manifest its power;--all puerile explanations and ideas, belonging to the childish period of thought. others have sought to explain the mystery by assuming that the all found itself "compelled" to create, by reason of its own "internal nature"--its "creative instinct." this idea is in advance of the others, but its weak point lies in the idea of the all being "compelled" by anything, internal or external. if its "internal nature," or "creative instinct," compelled it to do anything, then the "internal nature" or "creative instinct" would be the absolute, instead of the all, and so accordingly that part of the proposition falls. and, yet, the all does create and manifest, and seems to find some kind of satisfaction in so doing. and it is difficult to escape the conclusion that in some infinite degree it must have what would correspond to an "inner nature," or "creative instinct," in man, with correspondingly infinite desire and will. it could not act unless it willed to act; and it would not will to act, unless it desired to act and it would not desire to act unless it obtained some satisfaction thereby. and all of these things would belong to an "inner nature," and might be postulated as existing according to the law of correspondence. but, still, we prefer to think of the all as acting entirely free from any influence, internal as well as external. that is the problem which lies at the root of difficulty--and the difficulty that lies at the root of the problem. strictly speaking, there cannot be said to be any "reason" whatsoever for the all to act, for a "reason" implies a "cause," and the all is above cause and effect, except when it wills to become a cause, at which time the principle is set into motion. so, you see, the matter is unthinkable, just as the all is unknowable. just as we say the all merely "is"--so we are compelled to say that "the all acts because it acts." at the last, the all is all reason in itself; all law in itself; all action in itself--and it may be said, truthfully, that the all is its own reason; its own law; its own act--or still further, that the all; its reason; its act; is law; are one, all being names for the same thing. in the opinion of those who are giving you these present lessons, the answer is locked up in the inner self of the all, along with its secret of being. the law of correspondence, in our opinion, reaches only to that aspect of the all, which may be spoken of as "the aspect of becoming." back of that aspect is "the aspect of being" in which all laws are lost in law; all principles merge into principle--and the all; principle; and being; are identical, one and the same. therefore, metaphysical speculation on this point is futile. we go into the matter here, merely to show that we recognize the question, and also the absurdity of the ordinary answers of metaphysics and theology. in conclusion, it may be of interest to our students to learn that while some of the ancient, and modern, hermetic teachers have rather inclined in the direction of applying the principle of correspondence to the question, with the result of the "inner nature" conclusion,--still the legends have it that hermes, the great, when asked this question by his advanced students, answered them by pressing his lips tightly together and saying not a word, indicating that there was no answer. but, then, he may have intended to apply the axiom of his philosophy, that: "the lips of wisdom are closed, except to the ears of understanding," believing that even his advanced students did not possess the understanding which entitled them to the teaching. at any rate, if hermes possessed the secret, he failed to impart it, and so far as the world is concerned the lips of hermes are closed regarding it. and where the great hermes hesitated to speak, what mortal may dare to teach? but, remember, that whatever be the answer to this problem, if indeed there be an answer the truth remains that: "while all is in the all, it is equally true that the all is in all." the teaching on this point is emphatic. and, we may add the concluding words of the quotation: "to him who truly understands this truth, hath come great knowledge." chapter viii planes of correspondence "as above, so below; as below, so above."--the kybalion. the great second hermetic principle embodies the truth that there is a harmony, agreement, and correspondence between the several planes of manifestation, life and being. this truth is a truth because all that is included in the universe emanates from the same source, and the same laws, principles, and characteristics apply to each unit, or combination of units, of activity, as each manifests its own phenomena upon its own plane. for the purpose of convenience of thought and study, the hermetic philosophy considers that the universe may be divided into three great classes of phenomena, known as the three great planes, namely: . the great physical plane. . the great mental plane. . the great spiritual plane. these divisions are more or less artificial and arbitrary, for the truth is that all of the three divisions are but ascending degrees of the great scale of life, the lowest point of which is undifferentiated matter, and the highest point that of spirit. and, moreover, the different planes shade into each other, so that no hard and fast division may be made between the higher phenomena of the physical and the lower of the mental; or between the higher of the mental and the lower of the physical. in short, the three great planes may be regarded as three great groups of degrees of life manifestation. while the purposes of this little book do not allow us to enter into an extended discussion of, or explanation of, the subject of these different planes, still we think it well to give a general description of the same at this point. at the beginning we may as well consider the question so often asked by the neophyte, who desires to be informed regarding the meaning of the word "plane", which term has been very freely used, and very poorly explained, in many recent works upon the subject of occultism. the question is generally about as follows: "is a plane a place having dimensions, or is it merely a condition or state?" we answer: "no, not a place, nor ordinary dimension of space; and yet more than a state or condition. it may be considered as a state or condition, and yet the state or condition is a degree of dimension, in a scale subject to measurement." somewhat paradoxical, is it not? but let us examine the matter. a "dimension," you know, is "a measure in a straight line, relating to measure," etc. the ordinary dimensions of space are length, breadth, and height, or perhaps length, breadth, height, thickness or circumference. but there is another dimension of "created things" or "measure in a straight line," known to occultists, and to scientists as well, although the latter have not as yet applied the term "dimension" to it--and this new dimension, which, by the way, is the much speculated -about "fourth dimension," is the standard used in determining the degrees or "planes." this fourth dimension may be called "the dimension of vibration" it is a fact well known to modern science, as well as to the hermetists who have embodied the truth in their "third hermetic principle," that "everything is in motion; everything vibrates; nothing is at rest." from the highest manifestation, to the lowest, everything and all things vibrate. not only do they vibrate at different rates of motion, but as in different directions and in a different manner. the degrees of the rate of vibrations constitute the degrees of measurement on the scale of vibrations--in other words the degrees of the fourth dimension. and these degrees form what occultists call "planes" the higher the degree of rate of vibration, the higher the plane, and the higher the manifestation of life occupying that plane. so that while a plane is not "a place," nor yet "a state or condition," yet it possesses qualities common to both. we shall have more to say regarding the subject of the scale of vibrations in our next lessons, in which we shall consider the hermetic principle of vibration. you will kindly remember, however, that the three great planes are not actual divisions of the phenomena of the universe, but merely arbitrary terms used by the hermetists in order to aid in the thought and study of the various degrees and forms of universal activity and life. the atom of matter, the unit of force, the mind of man, and the being of the arch -angel are all but degrees in one scale, and all fundamentally the same, the difference between solely a matter of degree, and rate of vibration--all are creations of the all, and have their existence solely within the infinite mind of the all. the hermetists sub-divide each of the three great planes into seven minor planes, and each of these latter are also sub-divided into seven sub-planes, all divisions being more or less arbitrary, shading into each other, and adopted merely for convenience of scientific study and thought. the great physical plane, and its seven minor planes, is that division of the phenomena of the universe which includes all that relates to physics, or material things, forces, and manifestations. it includes all forms of that which we call matter, and all forms of that which we call energy or force. but you must remember that the hermetic philosophy does not recognize matter as a thing in itself, or as having a separate existence even in the mind of the all. the teachings are that matter is but a form of energy--.that is, energy at a low rate of vibrations of a certain kind. and accordingly the hermetists classify matter under the head of energy, and give to it three of the seven minor planes of the great physical plane. these seven minor physical planes are as follows: . the plane of matter (a) . the plane of matter (b) . the plane of matter (c) . the plane of ethereal substance . the plane of energy (a) . the plane of energy (b) . the plane of energy (c) the plane of matter (a) comprises the forms of matter in its form of solids, liquids, and gases, as generally recognized by the text-books on physics. the plane of matter (b) comprises certain higher and more subtle forms of matter of the existence of which modern science is but now recognizing, the phenomena of radiant matter, in its phases of radium, etc., belonging to the lower sub-division of this minor plane. the plane of matter (c) comprises forms of the most subtle and tenuous matter, the existence of which is not suspected by ordinary scientists. the plane of ethereal substance comprises that which science speaks of as "the ether", a substance of extreme tenuity and elasticity, pervading all universal space, and acting as a medium for the transmission of waves of energy, such as light, heat, electricity, etc. this ethereal substance forms a connecting link between matter (so-called) and energy, and partakes of the nature of each. the hermetic teachings, however, instruct that this plane has seven sub-divisions (as have all of the minor planes), and that in fact there are seven ethers, instead of but one. next above the plane of ethereal substance comes the plane of energy (a), which comprises the ordinary forms of energy known to science, its seven sub-planes being, respectively, heat; light; magnetism; electricity, and attraction (including gravitation, cohesion, chemical affinity, etc.) and several other forms of energy indicated by scientific experiments but not as yet named or classified. the plane of energy (b) comprises seven subplanes of higher forms of energy not as yet discovered by science, but which have been called "nature's finer forces" and which are called into operation in manifestations of certain forms of mental phenomena, and by which such phenomena becomes possible. the plane of energy (c) comprises seven sub-planes of energy so highly organized that it bears many of the characteristics of "life," but which is not recognized by the minds of men on the ordinary plane of development, being available for the use on beings of the spiritual plane alone--such energy is unthinkable to ordinary man, and may be considered almost as "the divine power." the beings employing the same are as "gods" compared even to the highest human types known to us. the great mental plane comprises those forms of "living things" known to us in ordinary life, as well as certain other forms not so well known except to the occultist. the classification of the seven minor mental planes is more or less satisfactory and arbitrary (unless accompanied by elaborate explanations which are foreign to the purpose of this particular work), but we may as well mention them. they are as follows: . the plane of mineral mind . the plane of elemental mind (a) . the plane of plant mind . the plane of elemental mind (b) . the plane of animal mind . the plane of elemental mind (c) . the plane of human mind the plane of mineral mind comprises the "states or conditions" of the units or entities, or groups and combinations of the same, which animate the forms known to us as "minerals, chemicals, etc." these entities must not be confounded with the molecules, atoms and corpuscles themselves, the latter being merely the material bodies or forms of these entities, just as a man's body is but his material form and not "himself." these entities may be called "souls" in one sense, and are living beings of a low degree of development, life, and mind--just a little more than the units of "living energy" which comprise the higher sub-divisions of the highest physical plane. the average mind does not generally attribute the possession of mind, soul, or life, to the mineral kingdom, but all occultists recognize the existence of the same, and modern science is rapidly moving forward to the point-of-view of the hermetic, in this respect. the molecules, atoms and corpuscles have their "loves and hates"; "likes and dislikes"; "attractions and repulsions". "affinities and non-affinities," etc., and some of the more daring of modern scientific minds have expressed the opinion that the desire and will, emotions and feelings, of the atoms differ only in degree from those of men. we have no time or space to argue this matter here. all occultists know it to be a fact, and others are referred to some of the more recent scientific works for outside corroboration. there are the usual seven sub-divisions to this plane. the plane of elemental mind (a) comprises the state or condition, and degree of mental and vital development of a class of entities unknown to the average man, but recognized to occultists. they are invisible to the ordinary senses of man, but, nevertheless, exist and play their part of the drama of the universe. their degree of intelligence is between that of the mineral and chemical entities on the one hand, and of the entities of the plant kingdom on the other. there are seven subdivisions to this plane, also. the plane of plant mind, in its seven sub-divisions, comprises the states or conditions of the entities comprising the kingdoms of the plant world, the vital and mental phenomena of which is fairly well understood by the average intelligent person, many new and interesting scientific works regarding "mind and life in plants" having been published during the last decade. plants have life, mind and "souls," as well as have the animals, man, and super-man. the plane of elemental mind (b), in its seven sub-divisions, comprises the states and conditions of a higher form of "elemental" or unseen entities, playing their part in the general work of the universe, the mind and life of which form a part of the scale between the plane of plant mind and the plane of animal mind, the entities partaking of the nature of both. the plane of animal mind, in its seven sub-divisions, comprises the states and conditions of the entities, beings, or souls, animating the animal forms of life, familiar to us all. it is not necessary to go into details regarding this kingdom or plane of life, for the animal world is as familiar to us as is our own. the plane of elemental mind (c), in its seven sub-divisions, comprises those entities or beings, invisible as are all such elemental forms, which partake of the nature of both animal and human life in a degree and in certain combinations. the highest forms are semi-human in intelligence. the plane of human mind, in its seven sub-divisions, comprises those manifestations of life and mentality which are common to man, in his various grades, degrees, and divisions. in this connection, we wish to point out the fact that the average man of today occupies but the fourth sub-division of the plane of human mind, and only the most intelligent have crossed the borders of the fifth sub-division. it has taken the race millions of years to reach this stage, and it will take many more years for the race to move on to the sixth and seventh sub-divisions, and beyond. but, remember, that there have been races before us which have passed through these degrees, and then on to higher planes. our own race is the fifth (with stragglers from the fourth) which has set foot upon the path. and, then there are a few advanced souls of our own race who have outstripped the masses, and who have passed on to the sixth and seventh sub-division, and some few being still further on. the man of the sixth sub-division will be "the super-man"; he of the seventh will be "the over-man." in our consideration of the seven minor mental planes, we have merely referred to the three elementary planes in a general way. we do not wish to go into this subject in detail in this work, for it does not belong to this part of the general philosophy and teachings. but we may say this much, in order to give you a little clearer idea, of the relations of these planes to the more familiar ones--the elementary planes bear the same relation to the planes of mineral, plant, animal and human mentality and life, that the black keys on the piano do to the white keys. the white keys are sufficient to produce music, but there are certain scales, melodies, and harmonies, in which the black keys play their part, and in which their presence is necessary. they are also necessary as "connecting links" of soul-condition; entity states, etc., between the several other planes, certain forms of development being attained therein--this last fact giving to the reader who can "read between the lines" a new light upon the processes of evolution, and a new key to the secret door of the "leaps of life" between kingdom and kingdom. the great kingdoms of elementals are fully recognized by all occultists, and the esoteric writings are full of mention of them. the readers of bulwer's "sanoni" and similar tales will recognize the entities inhabiting these planes of life. passing on from the great mental plane to the great spiritual plane, what shall we say? how can we explain these higher states of being, life and mind, to minds as yet unable to grasp and understand the higher subdivisions of the plane of human mind? the task is impossible. we can speak only in the most general terms. how may light be described to a man born blind--how sugar, to a man who has never tasted anything sweet--how harmony, to one born deaf? all that we can say is that the seven minor planes of the great spiritual plane (each minor plane having its seven sub-divisions) comprise beings possessing life, mind and form as far above that of man of to-day as the latter is above the earth-worm, mineral or even certain forms of energy or matter. the life of these beings so far transcends ours, that we cannot even think of the details of the same; their minds so far transcend ours, that to them we scarcely seem to "think," and our mental processes seem almost akin to material processes; the matter of which their forms are composed is of the highest planes of matter, nay, some are even said to be "clothed in pure energy." what may be said of such beings? on the seven minor planes of the great spiritual plane exist beings of whom we may speak as angels; archangels; demi-gods. on the lower minor planes dwell those great souls whom we call masters and adepts. above them come the great hierarchies of the angelic hosts, unthinkable to man; and above those come those who may without irreverence be called "the gods," so high in the scale of being are they, their being, intelligence and power being akin to those attributed by the races of men to their conceptions of deity. these beings are beyond even the highest flights of the human imagination, the word "divine" being the only one applicable to them. many of these beings, as well as the angelic host, take the greatest interest in the affairs of the universe and play an important part in its affairs. these unseen divinities and angelic helpers extend their influence freely and powerfully, in the process of evolution, and cosmic progress. their occasional intervention and assistance in human affairs have led to the many legends, beliefs, religions and traditions of the race, past and present. they have superimposed their knowledge and power upon the world, again and again, all under the law of the all, of course. but, yet, even the highest of these advanced beings exist merely as creations of, and in, the mind of the all, and are subject to the cosmic processes and universal laws. they are still mortal. we may call them "gods" if we like, but still they are but the elder brethren of the race,--the advanced souls who have outstripped their brethren, and who have foregone the ecstasy of absorption by the all, in order to help the race on its upward journey along the path. but, they belong to the universe, and are subject to its conditions--they are mortal--and their plane is below that of absolute spirit. only the most advanced hermetists are able to grasp the inner teachings regarding the state of existence, and the powers manifested on the spiritual planes. the phenomena is so much higher than that of the mental planes that a confusion of ideas would surely result from an attempt to describe the same. only those whose minds have been carefully trained along the lines of the hermetic philosophy for years--yes, those who have brought with them from other incarnations the knowledge acquired previously--can comprehend just what is meant by the teaching regarding these spiritual planes. and much of these inner teachings is held by the hermetists as being too sacred, important and even dangerous for general public dissemination. the intelligent student may recognize what we mean by this when we state that the meaning of "spirit" as used by the hermetists is akin to "living power"; "animated force;" "inner essence;" "essence of life," etc., which meaning must not be confounded with that usually and commonly employed in connection with the term, i.e., "religious; ecclesiastical; spiritual; ethereal; holy," etc., etc. to occultists the word "spirit" is used in the sense of "the animating principle," carrying with it the idea of power, living energy, mystic force, etc. and occultists know that that which is known to them as "spiritual power" may be employed for evil as well as good ends (in accordance with the principle of polarity), a fact which has been recognized by the majority of religions in their conceptions of satan, beelzebub, the devil, lucifer, fallen angels, etc. and so the knowledge regarding these planes has been kept in the holy of holies in all esoteric fraternities and occult orders,--in the secret chamber of the temple. but this may be said here, that those who have attained high spiritual powers and have misused them, have a terrible fate in store for them, and the swing of the pendulum of rhythm will inevitably swing them back to the furthest extreme of material existence, from which point they must retrace their steps spiritward, along the weary rounds of the path, but always with the added torture of having always with them a lingering memory of the heights from which they fell owing to their evil actions. the legends of the fallen angels have a basis in actual facts, as all advanced occultists know. the striving for selfish power on the spiritual planes inevitably results in the selfish soul losing its spiritual balance and falling back as far as it had previously risen. but to even such a soul, the opportunity of a return is given--and such souls make the return journey, paying the terrible penalty according to the invariable law. in conclusion we would again remind you that according to the principle of correspondence, which embodies the truth: "as above so below; as below, so above," all of the seven hermetic principles are in full operation on all of the many planes, physical mental and spiritual. the principle of mental substance of course applies to all the planes, for all are held in the mind of the all. the principle of correspondence manifests in all, for there is a correspondence, harmony and agreement between the several planes. the principle of vibration manifests on all planes, in fact the very differences that go to make the "planes" arise from vibration, as we have explained. the principle of polarity manifests on each plane, the extremes of the poles being apparently opposite and contradictory. the principle of rhythm manifests on each plane, the movement of the phenomena having its ebb and flow, rise and flow, incoming and outgoing. the principle of cause and effect manifests on each plane, every effect having its cause and every cause having its effect. the principle of gender manifests on each plane, the creative energy being always manifest, and operating along the lines of its masculine and feminine aspects. "as above so below; as below, so above." this centuries old hermetic axiom embodies one of the great principles of universal phenomena. as we proceed with our consideration of the remaining principles, we will see even more clearly the truth of the universal nature of this great principle of correspondence. chapter ix vibration "nothing rests; everything moves; everything vibrates."--the kybalion. the great third hermetic principle--the principle of vibration--embodies the truth that motion is manifest in everything in the universe--that nothing is at rest--that everything moves, vibrates, and circles. this hermetic principle was recognized by some of the early greek philosophers who embodied it in their systems. but, then, for centuries it was lost sight of by the thinkers outside of the hermetic ranks. but in the nineteenth century physical science re-discovered the truth and the twentieth century scientific discoveries have added additional proof of the correctness and truth of this centuries-old hermetic doctrine. the hermetic teachings are that not only is everything in constant movement and vibration, but that the "differences" between the various manifestations of the universal power are due entirely to the varying rate and mode of vibrations. not only this, but that even the all, in itself, manifests a constant vibration of such an infinite degree of intensity and rapid motion that it may be practically considered as at rest, the teachers directing the attention of the students to the fact that even on the physical plane a rapidly moving object (such as a revolving wheel) seems to be at rest. the teachings are to the effect that spirit is at one end of the pole of vibration, the other pole being certain extremely gross forms of matter. between these two poles are millions upon millions of different rates and modes of vibration. modern science has proven that all that we call matter and energy are but "modes of vibratory motion," and some of the more advanced scientists are rapidly moving toward the positions of the occultists who hold that the phenomena of mind are likewise modes of vibration or motion. let us see what science has to say regarding the question of vibrations in matter and energy. in the first place, science teaches that all matter manifests, in some degree, the vibrations arising from temperature or heat. be an object cold or hot--both being but degrees of the same things--it manifests certain heat vibrations, and in that sense is in motion and vibration. then all particles of matter are in circular movement, from corpuscle to suns. the planets revolve around suns, and many of them turn on their axes. the suns move around greater central points, and these are believed to move around still greater, and so on, ad infinitum. the molecules of which the particular kinds of matter are composed are in a state of constant vibration and movement around each other and against each other. the molecules are composed of atoms, which, likewise, are in a state of constant movement and vibration. the atoms are composed of corpuscles, sometimes called "electrons," "ions," etc., which also are in a state of rapid motion, revolving around each other, and which manifest a very rapid state and mode of vibration. and, so we see that all forms of matter manifest vibration, in accordance with the hermetic principle of vibration. and so it is with the various forms of energy. science teaches that light, heat, magnetism and electricity are but forms of vibratory motion connected in some way with, and probably emanating from the ether. science does not as yet attempt to explain the nature of the phenomena known as cohesion, which is the principle of molecular attraction; nor chemical affinity, which is the principle of atomic attraction; nor gravitation (the greatest mystery of the three), which is the principle of attraction by which every particle or mass of matter is bound to every other particle or mass. these three forms of energy are not as yet understood by science, yet the writers incline to the opinion that these too are manifestations of some form of vibratory energy, a fact which the hermetists have held and taught for ages past. the universal ether, which is postulated by science without its nature being understood clearly, is held by the hermetists to be but a higher manifestation of that which is erroneously called matter--that is to say, matter at a higher degree of vibration--and is called by them "the ethereal substance." the hermetists teach that this ethereal substance is of extreme tenuity and elasticity, and pervades universal space, serving as a medium of transmission of waves of vibratory energy, such as heat, light, electricity, magnetism, etc. the teachings are that the ethereal substance is a connecting link between the forms of vibratory energy known as "matter" on the one hand, and "energy or force" on the other; and also that it manifests a degree of vibration, in rate and mode, entirely its own. scientists have offered the illustration of a rapidly moving wheel, top, or cylinder, to show the effects of increasing rates of vibration. the illustration supposes a wheel, top, or revolving cylinder, running at a low rate of speed--we will call this revolving thing "the object" in following out the illustration. let us suppose the object moving slowly. it may be seen readily, but no sound of its movement reaches the ear. the speed is gradually increased. in a few moments its movement becomes so rapid that a deep growl or low note may be heard. then as the rate is increased the note rises one in the musical scale. then, the motion being still further increased, the next highest note is distinguished. then, one after another, all the notes of the musical scale appear, rising higher and higher as the motion is increased. finally when the motions have reached a certain rate the final note perceptible to human ears is reached and the shrill, piercing shriek dies away, and silence follows. no sound is heard from the revolving object, the rate of motion being so high that the human ear cannot register the vibrations. then comes the perception of rising degrees of heat. then after quite a time the eye catches a glimpse of the object becoming a dull dark reddish color. as the rate increases, the red becomes brighter. then as the speed is increased, the red melts into an orange. then the orange melts into a yellow. then follow, successively, the shades of green, blue, indigo, and finally violet, as the rate of sped increases. then the violet shades away, and all color disappears, the human eye not being able to register them. but there are invisible rays emanating from the revolving object, the rays that are used in photographing, and other subtle rays of light. then begin to manifest the peculiar rays known as the "x rays," etc., as the constitution of the object changes. electricity and magnetism are emitted when the appropriate rate of vibration is attained. when the object reaches a certain rate of vibration its molecules disintegrate, and resolve themselves into the original elements or atoms. then the atoms, following the principle of vibration, are separated into the countless corpuscles of which they are composed. and finally, even the corpuscles disappear and the object may be said to be composed of the ethereal substance. science does not dare to follow the illustration further, but the hermetists teach that if the vibrations be continually increased the object would mount up the successive states of manifestation and would in turn manifest the various mental stages, and then on spiritward, until it would finally re-enter the all, which is absolute spirit. the "object," however, would have ceased to be an "object" long before the stage of ethereal substance was reached, but otherwise the illustration is correct inasmuch as it shows the effect of constantly increased rates and modes of vibration. it must be remembered, in the above illustration, that at the stages at which the "object" throws off vibrations of light, heat, etc., it is not actually "resolved" into those forms of energy (which are much higher in the scale), but simply that it reaches a degree of vibration in which those forms of energy are liberated, in a degree, from the confining influences of its molecules, atoms and corpuscles, as the case may be. these forms of energy, although much higher in the scale than matter, are imprisoned and confined in the material combinations, by reason of the energies manifesting through, and using material forms, but thus becoming entangled and confined in their creations of material forms, which, to an extent, is true of all creations, the creating force becoming involved in its creation. but the hermetic teachings go much further than do those of modern science. they teach that all manifestation of thought, emotion, reason, will or desire, or any mental state or condition, are accompanied by vibrations, a portion of which are thrown off and which tend to affect the minds of other persons by "induction." this is the principle which produces the phenomena of "telepathy"; mental influence, and other forms of the action and power of mind over mind, with which the general public is rapidly becoming acquainted, owing to the wide dissemination of occult knowledge by the various schools, cults and teachers along these lines at this time. every thought, emotion or mental state has its corresponding rate and mode of vibration. and by an effort of the will of the person, or of other persons, these mental states may be reproduced, just as a musical tone may be reproduced by causing an instrument to vibrate at a certain rate--just as color may be reproduced in the same may. by a knowledge of the principle of vibration, as applied to mental phenomena, one may polarize his mind at any degree he wishes, thus gaining a perfect control over his mental states, moods, etc. in the same way he may affect the minds of others, producing the desired mental states in them. in short, he may be able to produce on the mental plane that which science produces on the physical plane--namely, "vibrations at will." this power of course may be acquired only by the proper instruction, exercises, practice, etc., the science being that of mental transmutation, one of the branches of the hermetic art. a little reflection on what we have said will show the student that the principle of vibration underlies the wonderful phenomena of the power manifested by the masters and adepts, who are able to apparently set aside the laws of nature, but who, in reality, are simply using one law against another; one principle against others; and who accomplish their results by changing the vibrations of material objects, or forms of energy, and thus perform what are commonly called "miracles." as one of the old hermetic writers has truly said: "he who understands the principle of vibration, has grasped the scepter of power." chapter x polarity "everything is dual; everything has poles; everything has its pair of opposites; like and unlike are the same; opposites are identical in nature, but different in degree; extremes meet; all truths are but half-truths; all paradoxes may be reconciled."--the kybalion. the great fourth hermetic principle--the principle of polarity embodies the truth that all manifested things have "two sides"; "two aspects"; "two poles"; a "pair of opposites," with manifold degrees between the two extremes. the old paradoxes, which have ever perplexed the mind of men, are explained by an understanding of this principle. man has always recognized something akin to this principle, and has endeavored to express it by such sayings, maxims and aphorisms as the following: "everything is and isn't, at the same time"; "all truths are but half-truths"; "every truth is half-false"; "there are two sides to everything"--"there is a reverse side to every shield," etc., etc. the hermetic teachings are to the effect that the difference between things seemingly diametrically opposed to each other is merely a matter of degree. it teaches that "the pairs of opposites may be reconciled," and that "thesis and anti-thesis are identical in nature, but different in degree"; and that the "universal reconciliation of opposites" is effected by a recognition of this principle of polarity. the teachers claim that illustrations of this principle may be had on every hand, and from an examination into the real nature of anything. they begin by showing that spirit and matter are but the two poles of the same thing, the intermediate planes being merely degrees of vibration. they show that the all and the many are the same, the difference being merely a matter of degree of mental manifestation. thus the law and laws are the two opposite poles of one thing. likewise, principle and principles. infinite mind and finite minds. then passing on to the physical plane, they illustrate the principle by showing that heat and cold are identical in nature, the differences being merely a matter of degrees. the thermometer shows many degrees of temperature, the lowest pole being called "cold," and the highest "heat." between these two poles are many degrees of "heat" or "cold," call them either and you are equally correct. the higher of two degrees is always "warmer," while the lower is always "colder." there is no absolute standard-all is a matter of degree. there is no place on the thermometer where heat ceases and cold begins. it is all a matter of higher or lower vibrations. the very terms "high" and "low," which we are compelled to use, are but poles of the same thing-the terms are relative. so with "east and west"--travel around the world in an eastward direction, and you reach a point which is called west at your starting point, and you return from that westward point. travel far enough north, and you will find yourself traveling south, or vice versa. light and darkness are poles of the same thing, with many degrees between them. the musical scale is the same--starting with "c" you move upward until you reach another "c" and so on, the differences between the two ends of the board being the same, with many degrees between the two extremes. the scale of color is the same-higher and lower vibrations being the only difference between high violet and low red. large and small are relative. so are noise and quiet; hard and soft follow the rule. likewise sharp and dull. positive and negative are two poles of the same thing, with countless degrees between them. good and bad are not absolute--we call one end of the scale good and the other bad, or one end good and the other evil, according to the use of the terms. a thing is "less good" than the thing higher in the scale; but that "less good" thing, in turn, is "more good" than the thing next below it--and so on, the "more or less" being regulated by the position on the scale. and so it is on the mental plane. "love and. hate" are generally regarded as being things diametrically opposed to each other; entirely different; unreconcilable. but we apply the principle of polarity; we find that there is no such thing as absolute love or absolute hate, as distinguished from each other. the two are merely terms applied to the two poles of the same thing. beginning at any point of the scale we find "more love," or "less hate," as we ascend the scale; and "more hate" or "less love" as we descend this being true no matter from what point, high or low, we may start. there are degrees of love and hate, and there is a middle point where "like and dislike" become so faint that it is difficult to distinguish between them. courage and fear come under the same rule. the pairs of opposites exist everywhere. where you find one thing you find its opposite-the two poles. and it is this fact that enables the hermetist to transmute one mental state into another, along the lines of polarization. things belonging to different classes cannot be transmuted into each other, but things of the same class may be changed, that is, may have their polarity changed. thus love never becomes east or west, or red or violet-but it may and often does turn into hate and likewise hate may be transformed into love, by changing its polarity. courage may be transmuted into fear, and the reverse. hard things may be rendered soft. dull things become sharp. hot things become cold. and so on, the transmutation always being between things of the same kind of different degrees. take the case of a fearful man. by raising his mental vibrations along the line of fear- courage, he can be filled with the highest degree of courage and fearlessness. and, likewise, the slothful man may change himself into an active, energetic individual simply by polarizing along the lines of the desired quality. the student who is familiar with the processes by which the various schools of mental science, etc., produce changes in the mental states of those following their teachings, may not readily understand the principle underlying many of these changes. when, however, the principle of polarity is once grasped, and it is seen that the mental changes are occasioned by a change of polarity-a sliding along the same scale-the hatter is readily understood. the change is not in the nature of a transmutation of one thing into another thing entirely different-but is merely a change of degree in the same things, a vastly important difference. for instance, borrowing an analogy from the physical plane, it is impossible to change heat into sharpness, loudness, highness, etc., but heat may readily be transmuted into cold, simply by lowering the vibrations. in the same way hate and love are mutually transmutable; so are fear and courage. but fear cannot be transformed into love, nor can courage be transmuted into hate. the mental states belong to innumerable classes, each class of which has its opposite poles, along which transmutation is possible. the student will readily recognize that in the mental states, as well as in the phenomena of the physical plane, the two poles may be classified as positive and negative, respectively. thus love is positive to hate; courage to fear; activity to non-activity, etc., etc. and it will also be noticed that even to those unfamiliar with the principle of vibration, the positive pole seems to be of a higher degree than the negative, and readily dominates it. the tendency of nature is in the direction of the dominant activity of the positive pole. in addition to the changing of the poles of one's own mental states by the operation of the art of polarization, the phenomena of mental influence, in its manifold phases, shows us that the principle may be extended so as to embrace the phenomena of the influence of one mind over that of another, of which so much has been written and taught of late years. when it is understood that mental induction is possible, that is that mental states may be produced by "induction" from others, then we can readily see how a certain rate of vibration, or polarization of a certain mental state, may be communicated to another person, and his polarity in that class of mental states thus changed. it is along this principle that the results of many of the "mental treatments" are obtained. for instance, a person is "blue," melancholy and full of fear. a mental scientist bringing his own mind up to the desired vibration by his trained will, and thus obtaining the desired polarization in his own case, then produces a similar mental state in the other by induction, the result being that the vibrations are raised and the person polarizes toward the positive end of the scale instead toward the negative, and his fear and other negative emotions are transmuted to courage and similar positive mental states. a little study will show you that these mental changes are nearly all along the line of polarization, the change being one of degree rather than of kind. a knowledge of the existence of this great hermetic principle will enable the student to better understand his own mental states, and those of other people. he will see that these states are all matters of degree, and seeing thus, he will be able to raise or lower the vibration at will--to change his mental poles, and thus be master of his mental states, instead of being their servant and slave. and by his knowledge he will be able to aid his fellows intelligently and by the appropriate methods change the polarity when the same is desirable. we advise all students to familiarize themselves with this principle of polarity, for a correct understanding of the same will throw light on many difficult subjects. chapter xi rhythm "everything flows out and in; everything has its tides; all things rise and fall; the pendulum-swing manifests in everything; the measure of the swing to the right, is the measure of the swing to the left; rhythm compensates"--the kybalion. the great fifth hermetic principle--the principle of rhythm-embodies the truth that in everything there is manifested a measured motion; a to-and-from movement; a flow and inflow; a swing forward and backward; a pendulum-like movement; a tide-like ebb and flow; a high-tide and a low- tide; between the two-poles manifest on the physical, mental or spiritual planes. the principle of rhythm is closely connected with the principle of polarity described in the preceding chapter. rhythm manifests between the two poles established by the principle of polarity. this does not mean, however, that the pendulum of rhythm swings to the extreme poles, for this rarely happens; in fact, it is difficult to establish the extreme polar opposites in the majority of cases. but the swing is ever "toward" first one pole and then the other. there is always an action and reaction; an advance and a retreat; a rising and a sinking; manifested in all of the airs and phenomena of the universe. suns, worlds, men, animals, plants, minerals, forces, energy, mind and matter, yes, even spirit, manifests this principle. the principle manifests in the creation and destruction of worlds; in the rise and fall of nations; in the life history of all things; and finally in the mental states of man. beginning with the manifestations of spirit--of the all--it will be noticed that there is ever the outpouring and the indrawing; the "outbreathing and inbreathing of brahm," as the brahmans word it. universes are created; reach their extreme low point of materiality; and then begin in their upward swing. suns spring into being, and then their height of power being reached, the process of retrogression begins, and after aeons they become dead masses of matter, awaiting another impulse which starts again their inner energies into activity and a new solar life cycle is begun. and thus it is with all the worlds; they are born, grow and die; only to be reborn. and thus it is with all the things of shape and form; they swing from action to reaction; from birth to death; from activity to inactivity--and then back again. thus it is with all living things; they are born, grow, and die--and then are reborn. so it is with all great movements, philosophies, creeds, fashions, governments, nations, and all else-birth, growth, maturity, decadence, death-and then new-birth. the swing of the pendulum is ever in evidence. night follows day; and day night. the pendulum swings from summer to winter, and then back again. the corpuscles, atoms, molecules, and all masses of matter, swing around the circle of their nature. there is no such thing as absolute rest, or cessation from movement, and all movement partakes of rhythm. the principle is of universal application. it may be applied to any question, or phenomena of any of the many planes of life. it may be applied to all phases of human activity. there is always the rhythmic swing from one pole to the other. the universal pendulum is ever in motion. the tides of life flow in and out, according to law. the principle of rhythm is well understood by modern science, and is considered a universal law as applied to material things. but the hermetists carry the principle much further, and know that its manifestations and influence extend to the mental activities of man, and that it accounts for the bewildering succession of moods, feelings and other annoying and perplexing changes that we notice in ourselves. but the hermetists by studying the operations of this principle have learned to escape some of its activities by transmutation. the hermetic masters long since discovered that while the principle of rhythm was invariable, and ever in evidence in mental phenomena, still there were two planes of its manifestation so far as mental phenomena are concerned. they discovered that there were two general planes of consciousness, the lower and the higher, the understanding of which fact enabled them to rise to the higher plane and thus escape the swing of the rhythmic pendulum which manifested on the lower plane. in other words, the swing of the pendulum occurred on the unconscious plane, and the consciousness was not affected. this they call the law of neutralization. its operations consist in the raising of the ego above the vibrations of the unconscious plane of mental activity, so that the negative-swing of the pendulum is not manifested in consciousness, and therefore they are not affected. it is akin to rising above a thing and letting it pass beneath you. the hermetic master, or advanced student, polarizes himself at the desired pole, and by a process akin to "refusing" to participate in the backward swing or, if you prefer, a "denial" of its influence over him, he stands firm in his polarized position, and allows the mental pendulum to swing back along the unconscious plane. all individuals who have attained any degree of self- mastery, accomplish this, more or less unknowingly, and by refusing to allow their moods and negative mental states to affect them, they apply the law of neutralization. the master, however, carries this to a much higher degree of proficiency, and by the use of his will he attains a degree of poise and mental firmness almost impossible of belief on the part of those who allow themselves to be swung backward and forward by the mental pendulum of moods and feelings. the importance of this will be appreciated by any thinking person who realizes what creatures of moods, feelings and emotion the majority of people are, and how little mastery of themselves they manifest. if you will stop and consider a moment, you will realize how much these swings of rhythm have affected you in your life--how a period of enthusiasm has been invariably followed by an opposite feeling and mood of depression. likewise, your moods and periods of courage have been succeeded by equal moods of fear. and so it has ever been with the majority of persons--tides of feeling have ever risen and fallen with them, but they have never suspected the cause or reason of the mental phenomena. an understanding of the workings of this principle will give one the key to the mastery of these rhythmic swings of feeling, and will enable him to know himself better and to avoid being carried away by these inflows and outflows. the will is superior to the conscious manifestation of this principle, although the principle itself can never be destroyed. we may escape its effects, but the principle operates, nevertheless. the pendulum ever swings, although we may escape being carried along with it. there are other features of the operation of this principle of rhythm of which we wish to speak at this point. there comes into its operations that which is known as the law of compensation. one of the definitions or meanings of the word "compensate" is, "to counterbalance" which is the sense in which the hermetists use the term. it is this law of compensation to which the kybalion refers when it says: "the measure of the swing to the right is the measure of the swing to the left; rhythm compensates." the law of compensation is that the swing in one direction determines the swing in the opposite direction, or to the opposite pole-the one balances, or counterbalances, the other. on the physical plane we see many examples of this law. the pendulum of the clock swings a certain distance to the right, and then an equal distance to the left. the seasons balance each other in the same way. the tides follow the same law. and the same law is manifested in all the phenomena of rhythm. the pendulum, with a short swing in one direction, has but a short swing in the other; while the long swing to the right invariably means the long swing to the left. an object hurled upward to a certain height has an equal distance to traverse on its return. the force with which a projectile is sent upward a mile is reproduced when the projectile returns to the earth on its return journey. this law is constant on the physical plane, as reference to the standard authorities will show you. but the hermetists carry it still further. they teach that a man's mental states are subject to the same law. the man who enjoys keenly, is subject to keen suffering; while he who feels but little pain is capable of feeling but little joy. the pig suffers but little mentally, and enjoys but little--he is compensated. and on the other hand, there are other animals who enjoy keenly, but whose nervous organism and temperament cause them to suffer exquisite degrees of pain and so it is with man. there are temperaments which permit of but low degrees of enjoyment, and equally low degrees of suffering; while there are others which permit the most intense enjoyment, but also the most intense suffering. the rule is that the capacity for pain and pleasure, in each individual, are balanced. the law of compensation is in full operation here. but the hermetists go still further in this matter. they teach that before one is able to enjoy a certain degree of pleasure, he must have swung as far, proportionately, toward the other pole of feeling. they hold, however, that the negative is precedent to the positive in this matter, that is to say that in experiencing a certain degree of pleasure it does not follow that he will have to "pay up for it" with a corresponding degree of pain; on the contrary, the pleasure is the rhythmic swing, according to the law of compensation, for a degree of pain previously experienced either in the present life, or in a previous incarnation. this throws a new light on the problem of pain. the hermetists regard the chain of lives as continuous, and as forming a part of one life of the individual, so that in consequence the rhythmic swing is understood in this way, while it would be without meaning unless the truth of reincarnation is admitted. but the hermetists claim that the master or advanced student is able, to a great degree, to escape the swing toward pain, by the process of neutralization before mentioned. by rising on to the higher plane of the ego, much of the experience that comes to those dwelling on the lower plane is avoided and escaped. the law of compensation plays an important part in the lives of men and women. it will be noticed that one generally "pays the price" of anything he possesses or lacks. if he has one thing, he lacks another--the balance is struck. no one can "keep his penny and have the bit of cake" at the same time everything has its pleasant and unpleasant sides. the things that one gains are always paid for by the things that one loses. the rich possess much that the poor lack, while the poor often possess things that are beyond the reach of the rich. the millionaire may have the inclination toward feasting, and the wealth wherewith to secure all the dainties and luxuries of the table, while he lacks the appetite to enjoy the same; he envies the appetite and digestion of the laborer who lacks the wealth and inclinations of the millionaire, and who gets more pleasure from his plain food than the millionaire could obtain even if his appetite were not jaded, nor his digestion ruined, for the wants, habits and inclinations differ. and so it is through life. the law of compensation is ever in operation, striving to balance and counter-balance, and always succeeding in time, even though several lives may be required for the return swing of the pendulum of rhythm. chapter xii causation "every cause has its effect; every effect has its cause; everything happens according to law; chance is but a name for law not recognized; there are many planes of causation, but nothing escapes the law."--the kybalion. the great sixth hermetic principle--the principle of cause and effect--embodies the truth that law pervades the universe; that nothing happens by chance; that chance is merely a term indicating cause existing but not recognized or perceived; that phenomena is continuous, without break or exception. the principle of cause and effect underlies all scientific thought, ancient and modern, and was enunciated by the hermetic teachers in the earliest days. while many and varied disputes between the many schools of thought have since arisen, these disputes have been principally upon the details of the operations of the principle, and still more often upon the meaning of certain words. the underlying principle of cause and effect has been accepted as correct by practically all the thinkers of the world worthy of the name. to think otherwise would be to take the phenomena of the universe from the domain of law and order, and to relegate it; to the control of the imaginary something which men have called "chance." a little consideration will show anyone that there is in reality no such thing as pure chance. webster defines the word "chance" as follows: "a supposed agent or mode of activity other than a force, law or purpose; the operation or activity of such agent; the supposed effect of such an agent; a happening; fortuity; casualty, etc." but a little consideration will show you that there can be no such agent as "chance," in the sense of something outside of law-something outside of cause and effect. how could there be a something acting in the phenomenal universe, independent of the laws, order, and continuity of the latter? such a something would be entirely independent of the orderly trend of the universe, and therefore superior to it. we can imagine nothing outside of the all being outside of the law, and that only because the all is the law in itself. there is no room in the universe for a something outside of and independent of law. the existence of such a something would render all natural laws ineffective, and would plunge the universe into chaotic disorder and lawlessness. a careful examination will show that what we call "chance" is merely an expression relating to obscure causes; causes that we cannot perceive; causes that we cannot understand. the word chance is derived from a word meaning "to fall" (as the falling of dice), the idea being that the fall of the dice (and many other happenings) are merely a "happening" unrelated to any cause. and this is the sense in which the term is generally employed. but when the matter is closely examined, it is seen that there is no chance whatsoever about the fall of the dice. each time a die falls, and displays a certain number, it obeys a law as infallible as that which governs the revolution of the planets around the sun. back of the fall of the die are causes, or chains of causes, running back further than the mind can follow. the position of the die in the box; the amount of muscular energy expended in the throw; the condition of the table, etc., etc., all are causes, the effect of which may be seen. but back of these seen causes there are chains of unseen preceding causes, all of which had a bearing upon the number of the die which fell uppermost. if a die be cast a great number of times, it will be found that the numbers shown will be about equal, that is, there will be an equal number of one-spot, two-spot, etc., coming uppermost. toss a penny in the air, and it may come down either "heads" or "tails"; but make a sufficient number of tosses, and the heads and tails will about even up. this is the operation of the law of average. but both the average and the single toss come under the law of cause and effect, and if we were able to examine into the preceding causes, it would be clearly seen that it was simply impossible for the die to fall other than it did, under the same circumstances and at the same time. given the same causes, the same results will follow. there is always a "cause" and a "because" to every event. nothing ever "happens" without a cause, or rather a chain of causes. some confusion has arisen in the minds of persons considering this principle, from the fact that they were unable to explain how one thing could cause another thing--that is, be the "creator" of the second thing. as a matter of fact, no "thing" ever causes or "creates" another "thing." cause and effect deals merely with "events." an "event" is "that which comes, arrives or happens, as a result or consequent of some preceding event." no event "creates" another event, but is merely a preceding link in the great orderly chain of events flowing from the creative energy of the all. there is a continuity between all events precedent, consequent and subsequent. there is a relation existing between everything that has gone before, and everything that follows. a stone is dislodged from a mountain side and crashes through a roof of a cottage in the valley below. at first sight we regard this as a chance effect, but when we examine the matter we find a great chain of causes behind it. in the first place there was the rain which softened the earth supporting the stone and which allowed it to fall; then back of that was the influence of the sun, other rains, etc., which gradually disintegrated the piece of rock from a larger piece; then there were the causes which led to the formation of the mountain, and its upheaval by convulsions of nature, and so on ad infinitum. then we might follow up the causes behind the rain, etc. then we might consider the existence of the roof in short, we would soon find ourselves involved in a mesh of cause and effect, from which we would soon strive to extricate ourselves. just as a man has two parents, and four grandparents, and eight great-grandparents, and sixteen great-great-grandparents, and so on until when, say, forty generations are calculated the numbers of ancestors run into many millions--so it is with the number of causes behind even the most trifling event or phenomena, such as the passage of a tiny speck of soot before your eye. it is not an easy matter to trace the bit of soot hack to the early period of the world's history when it formed a part of a massive tree-trunk, which was afterward converted into coal, and so on, until as the speck of soot it now passes before your vision on its way to other adventures. and a mighty chain of events, causes and effects, brought it to its present condition, and the later is but one of the chain of events which will go to produce other events hundreds of years from now. one of the series of events arising from the tiny bit of soot was the writing of these lines, which caused the typesetter to perform certain work; the proofreader to do likewise; and which will arouse certain thoughts in your mind, and that of others, which in turn will affect others, and so on, and on, and on, beyond the ability of man to think further-and all from the passage of a tiny bit of soot, all of which shows the relativity and association of things, and the further fact that "there is no great; there is no small, in the mind that causeth all." stop to think a moment. if a certain man had not met a certain maid, away back in the dim period of the stone age--you who are now reading these lines would not now be here. and if, perhaps, the same couple had failed to meet, we who now write these lines would not now be here. and the very act of writing, on our part, and the act of reading, on yours, will affect not only the respective lives of yourself and ourselves, but will also have a direct, or indirect, affect upon many other people now living and who will live in the ages to come. every thought we think, every act we perform, has its direct and indirect results which fit into the great chain of cause and effect. we do not wish to enter into a consideration of free will, or determinism, in this work, for various reasons. among the many reasons, is the principal one that neither side of the controversy is entirely right-in fact, both sides are partially right, according to the hermetic teachings. the principle of polarity shows that both are but half-truths the opposing poles of truth. the teachings are that a man may be both free and yet bound by necessity, depending upon the meaning of the terms, and the height of truth from which the matter is examined. the ancient writers express the matter thus: "the further the creation is from the centre, the more it is bound; the nearer the centre it reaches, the nearer free is it." the majority of people are more or less the slaves of heredity, environment, etc., and manifest very little freedom. they are swayed by the opinions, customs and thoughts of the outside world, and also by their emotions, feelings, moods, etc. they manifest no mastery, worthy of the name. they indignantly repudiate this assertion, saying, "why, i certainly am free to act and do as i please--i do just what i want to do," but they fail to explain whence arise the "want to" and "as i please." what makes them "want to" do one thing in preference to another; what makes them "please" to do this, and not do that? is there no "because" to their "pleasing" and "wanting"? the master can change these "pleases" and "wants" into others at the opposite end of the mental pole. he is able to "will to will," instead of to will because some feeling, mood, emotion, or environmental suggestion arouses a tendency or desire within him so to do. the majority of people are carried along like the falling stone, obedient to environment, outside influences and internal moods, desires, etc., not to speak of the desires and wills of others stronger than themselves, heredity, environment, and suggestion, carrying them along without resistance on their part, or the exercise of the will. moved like the pawns on the checkerboard of life, they play their parts and are laid aside after the game is over. but the masters, knowing the rules of the game, rise above the plane of material life, and placing themselves in touch with the higher powers of their nature, dominate their own moods, characters, qualities, and polarity, as well as the environment surrounding them and thus become movers in the game, instead of pawns-causes instead of effects. the masters do not escape the causation of the higher planes, but fall in with the higher laws, and thus master circumstances on the lower plane. they thus form a conscious part of the law, instead of being mere blind instruments. while they serve on the higher planes, they rule on the material plane. but, on higher and on lower, the law is always in operation. there is no such thing as chance. the blind goddess has been abolished by reason. we are able to see now, with eyes made clear by knowledge, that everything is governed by universal law-that the infinite number of laws are but manifestations of the one great law-the law which is the all. it is true indeed that not a sparrow drops unnoticed by the mind of the al--that even the hairs on our head are numbered--as the scriptures have said there is nothing outside of law; nothing that happens contrary to it. and yet, do not make the mistake of supposing that man is but a blind automaton-far from that. the hermetic teachings are that man may use law to overcome laws, and that the higher will always prevail against the lower, until at last he has reached the stage in which he seeks refuge in the law itself, and laughs the phenomenal laws to scorn. are you able to grasp the inner meaning of this? chapter xiii gender "gender is in everything; everything has its masculine and feminine principles; gender manifests on all planes."--the kybalion. the great seventh hermetic principle--the principle of gender-embodies the truth that there is gender manifested in everything-that the masculine and feminine principles are ever present and active in all phases of phenomena, on each and every plane of life. at this point we think it well to call your attention to the fact that gender, in its hermetic sense, and sex in the ordinarily accepted use of the term, are not the same. the word "gender" is derived from the latin root meaning "to beget; to procreate; to generate; to create; to produce." a moment's consideration will show you that the word has a much broader and more general meaning than the term "sex," the latter referring to the physical distinctions between male and female living things. sex is merely a manifestation of gender on a certain plane of the great physical plane--the plane of organic life. we wish to impress this distinction upon your minds, for the reason that certain writers, who have acquired a smattering of the hermetic philosophy, have sought to identify this seventh hermetic principle with wild and fanciful, and often reprehensible, theories and teachings regarding sex. the office of gender is solely that of creating, producing, generating, etc., and its manifestations are visible on every plane of phenomena. it is somewhat difficult to produce proofs of this along scientific lines, for the reason that science has not as yet recognized this principle as of universal application. but still some proofs are forthcoming from scientific sources. in the first place, we find a distinct manifestation of the principle of gender among the corpuscles, ions, or electrons, which constitute the basis of matter as science now knows the latter, and which by forming certain combinations form the atom, which until lately was regarded as final and indivisible. the latest word of science is that the atom is composed of a multitude of corpuscles, electrons, or ions (the various names being applied by different authorities) revolving around each other and vibrating at a high degree and intensity. but the accompanying statement is made that the formation of the atom is really due to the clustering of negative corpuscles around a positive one---the positive corpuscles seeming to exert a certain influence upon the negative corpuscles, causing the latter to assume certain combinations and thus "create" or "generate" an atom. this is in line with the most ancient hermetic teachings, which have always identified the masculine principle of gender with the "positive," and the feminine with the "negative" poles of electricity (so called). now a word at this point regarding this identification. the public mind has formed an entirely erroneous impression regarding the qualities of the so-called "negative" pole of electrified or magnetized matter. the terms positive and negative are very wrongly applied to this phenomenon by science. the word positive means something real and strong, as compared with a negative unreality or weakness. nothing is further from the real facts of electrical phenomenon. the so-called negative pole of the battery is really the pole in and by which the generation or production of new forms and energies is manifested. there is nothing "negative" about it. the best scientific authorities now use the word "cathode" in place of "negative," the word cathode coming from the greek root meaning "descent; the path of generation, etc," from the cathode pole emerge the swarm of electrons or corpuscles; from the same pole emerge those wonderful "rays" which have revolutionized scientific conceptions during the past decade. the cathode pole is the mother of all of the strange phenomena which have rendered useless the old textbooks, and which have caused many long accepted theories to be relegated to the scrap-pile of scientific speculation. the cathode, or negative pole, is the mother principle of electrical phenomena, and of the finest forms of matter as yet known to science. so you see we are justified in refusing to use the term "negative" in our consideration of the subject, and in insisting upon substituting the word "feminine" for the old term. the facts of the case bear us out in this, without taking the hermetic teachings into consideration. and so we shall use the word "feminine" in the place of "negative" in speaking of that pole of activity. the latest scientific teachings are that the creative corpuscles or electrons are feminine (science says "they are composed of negative electricity"-we say they are composed of feminine energy). a feminine corpuscle becomes detached from, or rather leaves, a masculine corpuscle, and starts on a new career. it actively seeks a union with a masculine corpuscle, being urged thereto by the natural impulse to create new forms of matter or energy. one writer goes so far as to use the term "it at once seeks, of its own volition, a union," etc. this detachment and uniting form the basis of the greater part of the activities of the chemical world. when the feminine corpuscle unites with a masculine corpuscle, a certain process is begun. the feminine particles vibrate rapidly under the influence of the masculine energy, and circle rapidly around the latter. the result is the birth of a new atom. this new atom is really composed of a union of the masculine and feminine electrons, or corpuscles, but when the union is formed the atom is a separate thing, having certain properties, but no longer manifesting the property of free electricity. the process of detachment or separation of the feminine electrons is called "ionization." these electrons, or corpuscles, are the most active workers in nature's field. arising from their unions, or combinations, manifest the varied phenomena of light, heat, electricity, magnetism, attraction, repulsion, chemical affinity and the reverse, and similar phenomena. and all this arises from the operation of the principle of gender on the plane of energy. the part of the masculine principle seems to be that of directing a certain inherent energy toward the feminine principle, and thus starting into activity the creative processes. but the feminine principle is the one always doing the active creative work-and this is so on all planes. and yet, each principle is incapable of operative energy without the assistance of the other. in some of the forms of life, the two principles are combined in one organism. for that matter, everything in the organic world manifests both genders--there is always the masculine present in the feminine form, and the feminine form. the hermetic teachings include much regarding the operation of the two principles of gender in the production and manifestation of various forms of energy, etc., but we do not deem it expedient to go into detail regarding the same at this point, because we are unable to back up the same with scientific proof, for the reason that science has not as yet progressed thus far. but the example we have given you of the phenomena of the electrons or corpuscles will show you that science is on the right path, and will also give you a general idea of the underlying principles. some leading scientific investigators have announced their belief that in the formation of crystals there was to be found something that corresponded to "sex-activity" which is another straw showing the direction the scientific winds are blowing. and each year will bring other facts to corroborate the correctness of the hermetic principle of gender. it will be found that gender is in constant operation and manifestation in the field of inorganic matter, and in the field of energy or force. electricity is now generally regarded as the "something" into which all other forms of energy seem to melt or dissolve. the "electrical theory of the universe" is the latest scientific doctrine, and is growing rapidly in popularity and general acceptance. and it thus follows that if we are able to discover in the phenomena of electricity-even at the very root and source of its manifestations a clear and unmistakable evidence of the presence of gender and its activities, we are justified in asking you to believe that science at last has offered proofs of the existence in all universal phenomena of that great hermetic principle-the principle of gender. it is not necessary to take up your time with the well known phenomena of the "attraction and repulsion" of the atoms; chemical affinity; the "loves and hates" of the atomic particles; the attraction or cohesion between the molecules of matter. these facts are too well known to need extended comment from us. but, have you ever considered that all of these things are manifestations of the gender principle? can you not see that the phenomena is "on all fours" with that of the corpuscles or electrons? and more than this, can you not see the reasonableness of the hermetic teachings which assert that the very law of gravitation-that strange attraction by reason of which all particles and bodies of matter in the universe tend toward each other is but another manifestation of the principle of gender, which operates in the direction of attracting the masculine to the feminine energies, and vice versa? we cannot offer you scientific proof of this at this time-but examine the phenomena in the light of the hermetic teachings on the subject, and see if you have not a better working hypothesis than any offered by physical science. submit all physical phenomena to the test, and you will discern the principle of gender ever in evidence. let us now pass on to a consideration of the operation of the principle on the mental plane. many interesting features are there awaiting examination. chapter xiv mental gender students of psychology who have followed the modern trend of thought along the lines of mental phenomena are struck by the persistence of the dual-mind idea which has manifested itself so strongly during the past ten or fifteen years, and which has given rise to a number of plausible theories regarding the nature and constitution of these "two minds." the late thomson j. hudson attained great popularity in by advancing his well-known theory of the "objective and subjective minds" which he held existed in every individual. other writers have attracted almost equal attention by the theories regarding the "conscious and subconscious minds"; the "voluntary and involuntary minds"; "the active and passive minds," etc., etc. the theories of the various writers differ from each other, but there remains the underlying principle of "the duality of mind." the student of the hermetic philosophy is tempted to smile when he reads and hears of these many "new theories" regarding the duality of mind, each school adhering tenaciously to its own pet theories, and each claiming to have "discovered the truth." the student turns back the pages of occult history, and away back in the dim beginnings of occult teachings he finds references to the ancient hermetic doctrine of the principle of gender on the mental plane-the manifestation of mental gender. and examining further he finds that the ancient philosophy took cognizance of the phenomenon of the "dual mind," and accounted for it by the theory of mental gender. this idea of mental gender may be explained in a few words to students who are familiar with the modern theories just alluded to. the masculine principle of mind corresponds to the so-called objective mind; conscious mind; voluntary mind; active mind, etc. and the feminine principle of mind corresponds to the so-called subjective mind; sub-conscious mind; involuntary mind; passive mind, etc. of course the hermetic teachings do not agree with the many modern theories regarding the nature of the two phases of mind, nor does it admit many of the facts claimed for the two respective aspects--some of the said theories and claims being very far-fetched and incapable of standing the test of experiment and demonstration. we point to the phases of agreement merely for the purpose of helping the student to assimilate his previously acquired knowledge with the teachings of the hermetic philosophy. students of hudson will notice the statement at the beginning of his second chapter of "the law of psychic phenomena," that: "the mystic jargon of the hermetic philosophers discloses the same general idea" i.e., the duality of mind. if dr. hudson had taken the time and trouble to decipher a little of "the mystic jargon of the hermetic philosophy," he might have received much light upon the subject of "the dual mind"--but then, perhaps, his most interesting work might not have been written. let us now consider the hermetic teachings regarding mental gender. the hermetic teachers impart their instruction regarding this subject by bidding their students examine the report of their consciousness regarding their self. the students are bidden to turn their attention inward upon the self dwelling within each. each student is led to see that his consciousness gives him first a report of the existence of his self-the report is "i am." this at first seems to be the final words from the consciousness, but a little further examination discloses the fact that this "i am" may be separated or split into two distinct parts, or aspects, which while working in unison and in conjunction, yet, nevertheless, may be separated in consciousness. while at first there seems to be only an "i" existing, a more careful and closer examination reveals the fact that there exists an "i" and a "me." these mental twins differ in their characteristics and nature, and an examination of their nature and the phenomena arising from the same will throw much light upon many of the problems of mental influence. let us begin with a consideration of the me, which is usually mistaken for the i by the student, until he presses the inquiry a little further back into the recesses of consciousness. a man thinks of his self (in its aspect of me) as being composed of certain feelings, tastes likes, dislikes, habits, peculiar ties, characteristics, etc., all of which go to make up his personality, or the "self" known to himself and others. he knows that these emotions and feelings change; are born and die away; are subject to the principle of rhythm, and the principle of polarity, which take him from one extreme of feeling to another. he also thinks of the "me" as being certain knowledge gathered together in his mind, and thus forming a part of himself. this is the "me" of a man. but we have proceeded too hastily. the "me" of many men may be said to consist largely of their consciousness of the body and their physical appetites, etc. their consciousness being largely bound up with their bodily nature, they practically "live there." some men even go so far as to regard their personal apparel as a part of their "me" and actually seem to consider it a part of themselves. a writer has humorously said that "men consist of three parts--soul, body and clothes." these "clothes conscious" people would lose their personality if divested of their clothing by savages upon the occasion of a shipwreck. but even many who are not so closely bound up with the idea of personal raiment stick closely to the consciousness of their bodies being their "me" they cannot conceive of a self independent of the body. their mind seems to them to be practically "a something belonging to" their body-which in many cases it is indeed. but as man rises in the scale of consciousness he is able to disentangle his "me" from his idea of body, and is able to think of his body as "belonging to" the mental part of him. but even then he is very apt to identify the "me" entirely with the mental states, feelings, etc., which he feels to exist within him. he is very apt to consider these internal states as identical with himself, instead of their being simply "things" produced by some part of his mentality, and existing within him--of him, and in him, but still not "himself." he sees that he may change these internal states of feelings by all effort of will, and that he may produce a feeling or state of an exactly opposite nature, in the same way, and yet the same "me" exists. and so after a while he is able to set aside these various mental states, emotions, feelings, habits, qualities, characteristics, and other personal mental belongings--he is able to set them aside in the "not-me" collection of curiosities and encumbrances, as well as valuable possessions. this requires much mental concentration and power of mental analysis on the part of the student. but still the task is possible for the advanced student, and even those not so far advanced are able to see, in the imagination, how the process may be performed. after this laying-aside process has been performed, the student will find himself in conscious possession of a "self" which may be considered in its "i" and "me" dual aspects. the "me" will be felt to be a something mental in which thoughts, ideas, emotions, feelings, and other mental states may be produced. it may be considered as the "mental womb," as the ancients styled it-capable of generating mental offspring. it reports to the consciousness as a "me" with latent powers of creation and generation of mental progeny of all sorts and kinds. its powers of creative energy are felt to be enormous. but still it seems to be conscious that it must receive some form of energy from either its "i" companion, or else from some other "i" ere it is able to bring into being its mental creations. this consciousness brings with it a realization of an enormous capacity for mental work and creative ability. but the student soon finds that this is not all that he finds within his inner consciousness. he finds that there exists a mental something which is able to will that the "me" act along certain creative lines, and which is also able to stand aside and witness the mental creation. this part of himself he is taught to call his "i." he is able to rest in its consciousness at will. he finds there not a consciousness of an ability to generate and actively create, in the sense of the gradual process attendant upon mental operations, but rather a sense and consciousness of an ability to project an energy from the "i" to the "me"--a process of "willing" that the mental creation begin and proceed. he also finds that the "i" is able to stand aside and witness the operations of the "me's" mental creation and generation. there is this dual aspect in the mind of every person. the "i" represents the masculine principle of mental gender-the "me" represents the female principle. the "i" represents the aspect of being; the "me" the aspect of becoming. you will notice that the principle of correspondence operates on this plane just as it does upon the great plane upon which the creation of universes is performed. the two are similar in kind, although vastly different in degree. "as above, so below; as below, so above." these aspects of mind-the masculine and feminine principles-the "i" and the "me"-considered in connection with the well-known mental and psychic phenomena, give the master-key to these dimly known regions of mental operation and manifestation. the principle of mental gender gives the truth underlying the whole field of the phenomena of mental influence, etc. the tendency of the feminine principle is always in the direction of receiving impressions, while the tendency of the masculine principle is always in the direction of giving, out or expressing. the feminine principle has much more varied field of operation than has the masculine principle. the feminine principle conducts the work of generating new thoughts, concepts, ideas, including the work of the imagination. the masculine principle contents itself with the work of the "will" in its varied phases. and yet, without the active aid of the will of the masculine principle, the feminine principle is apt to rest content with generating mental images which are the result of impressions received from outside, instead of producing original mental creations. persons who can give continued attention and thought to a subject actively employ both of the mental principles-the feminine in the work of the mental generation, and the masculine will in stimulating and energizing the creative portion of the mind. the majority of persons really employ the masculine principle but little, and are content to live according to the thoughts and ideas instilled into the "me" from the "i" of other minds. but it is not our purpose to dwell upon this phase of the subject, which may be studied from any good text-book upon psychology, with the key that we have given you regarding mental gender. the student of psychic phenomena is aware of the wonderful phenomena classified under the head of telepathy; thought transference; mental influence; suggestion; hypnotism, etc. many have sought for an explanation of these varied phases of phenomena under the theories of the various "dual mind" teachers. and in a measure they are right, for there is clearly a manifestation of two distinct phases of mental activity. but if such students will consider these "dual minds" in the light of the hermetic teachings regarding vibrations and mental gender, they will see that the long sought for key is at hand. in the phenomena of telepathy it is seen how the vibratory energy of the masculine principle is projected toward the feminine principle of another person, and the latter takes the seed-thought and allows it to develop into maturity. in the same way suggestion and hypnotism operates. the masculine principle of the person giving the suggestions directs a stream of vibratory energy or will-power toward the feminine principle of the other person, and the latter accepting it makes it its own and acts and thinks accordingly. an idea thus lodged in the mind of another person grows and develops, and in time is regarded as the rightful mental offspring of the individual, whereas it is in reality like the cuckoo egg placed in the sparrows nest, where it destroys the rightful offspring and makes itself at home. the normal method is for the masculine and feminine principles in a person's mind to co-ordinate and act harmoniously in conjunction with each other, but, unfortunately, the masculine principle in the average person is too lazy to act-the display of will-power is too slight-and the consequence is that such persons are ruled almost entirely by the minds and wills of other persons, whom they allow to do their thinking and willing for them. how few original thoughts or original actions are performed by the average person? are not the majority of persons mere shadows and echoes of others having stronger wills or minds than themselves? the trouble is that the average person dwells almost altogether in his "me" consciousness and does not realize that he has such a thing as an "i." he is polarized in his feminine principle of mind, and the masculine principle, in which is lodged the will, is allowed to remain inactive and not employed. the strong men and women of the world invariably manifest the masculine principle of will, and their strength depends materially upon this fact. instead of living upon the impressions made upon their minds by others, they dominate their own minds by their will, obtaining the kind of mental images desired, and moreover dominate the minds of others likewise, in the same manner. look at the strong people, how they manage to implant their seed-thoughts in the minds of the masses of the people, thus causing the latter to think thoughts in accordance with the desires and wills of the strong individuals. this is why the masses of people are such sheeplike creatures, never originating an idea of their own, nor using their own powers of mental activity. the manifestation of mental gender may be noticed all around us in everyday life. the magnetic persons are those who are able to use the masculine principle in the way of impressing their ideas upon others. the actor who makes people weep or cry as he wills, is employing this principle. and so is the successful orator, statesman, preacher, writer or other people who are before the public attention. the peculiar influence exerted by some people over others is due to the manifestation of mental gender, along the vibrational lines above indicated. in this principle lies the secret of personal magnetism, personal influence, fascination, etc., as well as the phenomena generally grouped under the name of hypnotism. the student who has familiarized himself with the phenomena generally spoken of as "psychic" will have discovered the important part played in the said phenomena by that force which science has styled "suggestion," by which term is meant the process or method whereby an idea is transferred to, or "impressed upon" the mind of another, causing the second mind to act in accordance therewith. a correct understanding of suggestion is necessary in order to intelligently comprehend the varied psychical phenomena which suggestion underlies. but, still more is a knowledge of vibration and mental gender necessary for the student of suggestion. for the whole principle of suggestion depends upon the principle of mental gender and vibration. it is customary for the writers and teachers of suggestion to explain that it is the "objective or voluntary" mind which make the mental impression, or suggestion, upon the "subjective or involuntary" mind. but they do not describe the process or give us any analogy in nature whereby we may more readily comprehend the idea. but if you will think of the matter in the light of the hermetic teachings you will be able to see that the energizing of the feminine principle by the vibratory energy of the masculine principle is in accordance to the universal laws of nature, and that the natural world affords countless analogies whereby the principle may be understood. in fact, the hermetic teachings show that the very creation of the universe follows the same law, and that in all creative manifestations, upon the planes of the spiritual, the mental, and the physical, there is always in operation this principle of gender-this manifestation of the masculine and the feminine principles. "as above, so below; as below, so above." and more than this, when the principle of mental gender is once grasped and understood, the varied phenomena of psychology at once becomes capable of intelligent classification and study, instead of being very much in the dark. the principle "works out" in practice, because it is based upon the immutable universal laws of life. we shall not enter into an extended discussion of, or description of, the varied phenomena of mental influence or psychic activity. there are many books, many of them quite good, which have been written and published on this subject of late years. the main facts stated in these various books are correct, although the several writers have attempted to explain the phenomena by various pet theories of their own. the student may acquaint himself with these matters, and by using the theory of mental gender he will be able to bring order out of the chaos of conflicting theory and teachings, and may, moreover, readily make himself a master of the subject if he be so inclined. the purpose of this work is not to give an extended account of psychic phenomena but rather to give to the student a master-key whereby he may unlock the many doors leading into the parts of the temple of knowledge which he may wish to explore. we feel that in this consideration of the teachings of the kybalion, one may find an explanation which will serve to clear away many perplexing difficulties--a key that will unlock many doors. what is the use of going into detail regarding all of the many features of psychic phenomena and mental science, provided we place in the hands of the student the means whereby he may acquaint himself fully regarding any phase of the subject which may interest him. with the aid of the kybalion one may go through any occult library anew, the old light from egypt illuminating many dark pages, and obscure subjects. that is the purpose of this book. we do not come expounding a new philosophy, but rather furnishing the outlines of a great world-old teaching which will make clear the teachings of others-which will serve as a great reconciler of differing: theories, and opposing doctrines. chapter xv hermetic axioms "the possession of knowledge, unless accompanied by a manifestation and expression in action, is like the hoarding of precious metals-a vain and foolish thing. knowledge, like wealth, is intended for use. the law of use is universal, and he who violates it suffers by reason of his conflict with natural forces."--the kybalion. the hermetic teachings, while always having been kept securely locked up in the minds of the fortunate possessors thereof, for reasons which we have already stated, were never intended to be merely stored away and secreted. the law of use is dwelt upon in the teachings, as you may see by reference to the above quotation from the kybalion, which states it forcibly. knowledge without use and expression is a vain thing, bringing no good to its possessor, or to the race. beware of mental miserliness, and express into action that which you have learned. study the axioms and aphorisms, but practice them also. we give below some of the more important hermetic axioms, from the kybalion, with a few comments added to each. make these your own, and practice and use them, for they are not really your own until you have used them. "to change your mood or mental state--change your vibration."--the kybalion. one may change his mental vibrations by an effort of will, in the direction of deliberately fixing the attention upon a more desirable state. will directs the attention, and attention changes the vibration. cultivate the art of attention, by means of the will, and you have solved the secret of the mastery of moods and mental states. "to destroy an undesirable rate of mental vibration, put into operation the principle of polarity and concentrate upon the opposite pole to that which you desire to suppress. kill out the undesirable by changing its polarity."--the kybalion. this is one of the most important of the hermetic formulas. it is based upon true scientific principles. we have shown you that a mental state and its opposite were merely the two poles of one thing, and that by mental transmutation the polarity might be reversed. this principle is known to modern psychologists, who apply it to the breaking up of undesirable habits by bidding their students concentrate upon the opposite quality. if you are possessed of fear, do not waste time trying to "kill out" fear, but instead cultivate the quality of courage, and the fear will disappear. some writers have expressed this idea most forcibly by using the illustration of the dark room. you do not have to shovel out or sweep out the darkness, but by merely opening the shutters and letting in the light the darkness has disappeared. to kill out a negative quality, concentrate upon the positive pole of that same quality, and the vibrations will gradually change from negative to positive, until finally you will become polarized on the positive pole instead of the negative. the reverse is also true, as many have found out to their sorrow, when they have allowed themselves to vibrate too constantly on the negative pole of things. by changing your polarity you may master your moods, change your mental states, remake your disposition, and build up character. much of the mental mastery of the advanced hermetics is due to this application of polarity, which is one of the important aspects of mental transmutation. remember the hermetic axiom (quoted previously), which says: "mind (as well as metals and elements) may be transmuted from state to state; degree to degree, condition to condition; pole to pole; vibration to vibration."--the kybalion. the mastery of polarization is the mastery of the fundamental principles of mental transmutation or mental alchemy, for unless one acquires the art of changing his own polarity, he will be unable to affect his environment. an understanding of this principle will enable one to change his own polarity, as well as that of others, if he will but devote the time, care, study and practice necessary to master the art. the principle is true, but the results obtained depend upon the persistent patience and practice of the student. "rhythm may be neutralized by an application of the art of polarization."--the kybalion. as we have explained in previous chapters, the hermetists hold that the principle of rhythm manifests on the mental plane as well as on the physical plane, and that the bewildering succession of moods, feelings, emotions, and other mental states, are due to the backward and forward swing of the mental pendulum, which carries us from one extreme of feeling to the other. the hermetists also teach that the law of neutralization enables one, to a great extent, to overcome the operation of rhythm in consciousness. as we have explained, there is a higher plane of consciousness, as well as the ordinary lower plane, and the master by rising mentally to the higher plane causes the swing of the mental pendulum to manifest on the lower plane, and he, dwelling on his higher plane, escapes the consciousness of the swing backward. this is effected by polarizing on the higher self, and thus raising the mental vibrations of the ego above those of the ordinary plane of consciousness. it is akin to rising above a thing and allowing it to pass beneath you. the advanced hermetist polarizes himself at the positive pole of his being-the "i am" pole rather than the pole of personality and by "refusing" and "denying" the operation of rhythm, raises himself above its plane of consciousness, and standing firm in his statement of being he allows the pendulum to swing back on the lower plane without changing his polarity. this is accomplished by all individuals who have attained any degree of self-mastery, whether they understand the law or not. such persons simply "refuse" to allow themselves to be swung back by the pendulum of mood and emotion, and by steadfastly affirming the superiority they remain polarized on the positive pole. the master, of course, attains a far greater degree of proficiency, because he understands the law which he is overcoming by a higher law, and by the use of his will he attains a degree of poise and mental steadfastness almost impossible of belief on the part of those who allow themselves to be swung backward and forward by the mental pendulum of moods and feelings. remember always, however, that you do not really destroy the principle of rhythm, for that is indestructible. you simply overcome one law by counter-balancing it with another and thus maintain an equilibrium. the laws of balance and counter-balance are in operation on the mental as well as on the physical planes, and an understanding of these laws enables one to seem to overthrow laws, whereas he is merely exerting a counterbalance. "nothing escapes the principle of cause and effect, but there are many planes of causation, and one may use the laws of the higher to overcome the laws of the lower."--the kybalion. by an understanding of the practice of polarization, the hermetists rise to a higher plane of causation and thus counter-balance the laws of the lower planes of causation. by rising above the plane of ordinary causes they become themselves, in a degree, causes instead of being merely caused. by being able to master their own moods and feelings, and by being able to neutralize rhythm, as we have already explained, they are able to escape a great part of the operations of cause and effect on the ordinary plane. the masses of people are carried along, obedient to their environment; the wills and desires of others stronger than themselves; the effects of inherited tendencies; the suggestions of those about them; and other outward causes; which tend to move them about on the chess-board of life like mere pawns. by rising above these influencing causes, the advanced hermetists seek a higher plane of mental action, and by dominating their moods, emotions, impulses and feelings, they create for themselves new characters, qualities and powers, by which they overcome their ordinary environment, and thus become practically players instead of mere pawns. such people help to play the game of life understandingly, instead of being moved about this way and that way by stronger influences and powers and wills. they use the principle of cause and effect, instead of being used by it. of course, even the highest are subject to the principle as it manifests on the higher planes, but on the lower planes of activity, they are masters instead of slaves. as the kybalion says: "the wise ones serve on the higher, but rule on the lower. they obey the laws coming from above them, but on their own plane, and those below them they rule and give orders. and, yet, in so doing, they form a part of the principle, instead of opposing it. the wise man falls in with the law, and by understanding its movements he operates it instead of being its blind slave. just as does the skilled swimmer turn this way and that way, going and coming as he will, instead of being as the log which is carried here and there--so is the wise man as compared to the ordinary man--and yet both swimmer and log; wise man and fool, are subject to law. he who understands this is well on the road to mastery."--the kybalion. in conclusion let us again call your attention to the hermetic axiom: "true hermetic transmutation is a mental art."--the kybalion. in the above axiom, the hermetists teach that the great work of influencing one's environment is accomplished by mental power. the universe being wholly mental, it follows that it may be ruled only by mentality. and in this truth is to be found an explanation of all the phenomena and manifestations of the various mental powers which are attracting so much attention and study in these earlier years of the twentieth century. back of and under the teachings of the various cults and schools, remains ever constant the principle of the mental substance of the universe. if the universe be mental in its substantial nature, then it follows that mental transmutation must change the conditions and phenomena of the universe. if the universe is mental, then mind must be the highest power affecting its phenomena. if this be understood then all the so-called "miracles" and "wonder-workings" are seen plainly for what they are. "the all is mind; the universe is mental."--the kybalion. finis transcriber's note: text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). a son of perdition an occult romance by fergus hume author of "the mystery of a hansom cab," "lady jim of curzon street," "the mother of emeralds," "the jew's house," etc., etc. new & cheaper edition. london william rider & son, ltd. to mrs. annie besant president theosophical society who is eloquent, wise, patient, and tolerant _note_ _the author is indebted for the description of the star-worship contained in chapter xv to mr. c. w. leadbeater's articles on "ancient chaldea," which appeared in the february, march, and april numbers of "the theosophical review" during the year ._ contents chap. page i. love in idleness ii. the prophecy iii. the fulfilment iv. plotting v. the meeting vi. a conversation vii. behind the scenes viii. love's young dream ix. the warning x. in cornwall xi. the spider and the fly xii. small beer chronicles xiii. further small beer chronicles xiv. preparation xv. the trance xvi. the disciple of love xvii. the disciple of hate xviii. the night before xix. the morning after xx. the unexpected xxi. the choice xxii. right is might xxiii. the eternal strife xxiv. dawn chapter i love in idleness "how can any one hope to transfer that to canvas?" asked the artist, surveying the many-coloured earth and sky and sea with despairing eyes. "easily enough," replied the girl at his elbow, "those who see twice as vividly as others, can make others see once as vividly as they do. that is what we call genius." "a large word for my small capabilities, miss enistor. am i a genius?" "ask yourself, mr. hardwick, for none other than yourself can answer truly." outside his special gift the artist was not over clever, so he lounged on the yielding turf of the slope to turn the speech over in his mind and wait results. this tall solidly built saxon only arrived at conclusions by slow degrees of laborious reflection. with his straight athletic figure, closely clipped fair hair and a bronzed complexion, against which his moustache looked almost white, he resembled a soldier rather than a painter. yet a painter he was of some trifling fame, but being only moderately creative, he strove to supply what was wanting by toilsome work. he had not so much the steady fire of genius as the crackling combustion of talent. thus the grim cornish country and the far-stretching atlantic waters, so magically beautiful under an opalescent sunset, baffled him for the moment. "i have the beginnings of genius," he finally decided, "that is, i can see for myself, but i cannot pass the vision on to others by production." "half a loaf is better than none," said miss enistor soothingly. "i am not so sure that your proverb is true, so i reply with another. if indeed appetite comes with eating, as the french say, it is useless to invite it with half a loaf, when, for complete satisfaction, one requires the whole." "there is something in that," admitted the girl, smiling, "but try and secure your desired whole loaf by sitting mousey-quiet and letting what is before you sink into your innermost being. then you may create." crossing his legs and gripping his ankles, hardwick, seated in the approved attitude of a fakir, did his best to adopt this advice, although he might well despair of fixing on canvas the fleeting vision of that enchanted hour. from the cromlech, near which the couple were stationed, a purple carpet of heather rolled down to a winding road, white and dusty and broad. on the hither side of the loosely built wall which skirted this, stretched many smooth green fields, divided and subdivided by boundaries of piled stones, feathery with ferns and coarse grasses. beyond the confines of this ordered world, a chaos of bracken and ling, of small shrubs and stunted trees, together with giant masses of silvery granite, islanded amidst a sea of gold-besprinkled gorse, tumbled pell-mell to the jagged edge of the cliffs. finally, the bluish plain of ocean glittered spaciously to the far sharp horizon-line. thence rose billowy clouds of glorious hues threaded with the fires of the sinking sun, heaping themselves in rainbow tints higher and higher towards the radiant azure of the zenith. no ship was on the water, no animals moved on the land, and even the grey huddle of houses, to which the smooth level road led, appeared to be without inhabitants. for all that could be seen of sentient life, the two on the hilltop were alone in this world of changeful beauty: the adam and eve of a new creation. "yet," murmured the girl, to whom this stillness suggested thoughts, "around us are nature-spirits, invisible and busy, both watchful and indifferent. oh, mr. hardwick, how i should love to see the trolls, the pixies, the gnomes and the nixies." "rhyme, if not reason," laughed the artist lazily, "one must have the eye of faith to see such impossible things." "impossible?" miss enistor shrugged her shoulders and declined to combat his scepticism beyond the query of the one word. as that did not invite conversation, hardwick gave himself up to the mere contentment of looking at her. amidst the warm splendours of the hour, she somehow conveyed to him the sensation of a grey and pensive autumn day, haunting, yet elusive in its misty beauty. he was wholly unable to put this feeling into words, but he conceived it dimly as a subtle blurring of the picture she had bidden him create. his love for her was like a veil before his conception, and until that veil was removed by his surrender of the passion, the execution of the landscape on canvas was impossible. yet so sweet was this drawback to his working powers that he could not wish it away. yet it was strange that the girl should be attractive to a man of his limitations, since her alluring qualities were not aggressively apparent. a delicate oval face, exquisitely moulded, with a transparent colourless skin, and mystical eyes of larkspur blue, were scarcely what his blunt perceptions approved of as absolute beauty. slim and dainty and fragile in shape and stature, her unusual looks suggested a cloistered nun given to visions or some peaked elfin creature of moonlight and mist. she might have been akin to the fairies she spoke about, and even in the strong daylight she was a creature of dreams ethereal and evanescent. hardwick was much too phlegmatic a man to analyse shadows. a celt would have comprehended the hidden charm which drew him on; the saxon could only wonder what there was in the girl to impress him. "you are not my ideal of beauty, you know, miss enistor," he said in such a puzzled way as to rob the speech of premeditated rudeness; "yet there is something about you which makes me adore you!" the girl flushed and shrugged her shoulders again. "what a flamboyant word is 'adored'!" "it is the only word i can use," said hardwick stoutly. "the venus of milo, brynhild in the volsung poem, jael who slew sisera, rubens' robust nymphs: these were the types which appealed to me--until i met you." "how complimentary to my small commonplace looks! what caused you to change your mind, mr. hardwick?" "something you possess, which is not apparent." "you talk in riddles. what attracts any one must be apparent." "well, that is uncertain. i am not a deep thinker, you know. but there is such a thing as glamour." "there is. but you are not the man to comprehend the meaning of the word." "i admit that: all the same i feel its influence--in you!" "i don't know what you mean," said the girl indifferently. "nor do i. yet the feeling is here," and he touched his heart. "if i could only shape that feeling into words,"--he hesitated and blushed. "well?" "i might be able to tell you much--alice." "why do you use my christian name?" "why not? we are man and woman on a hillside, and not over-civilised beings in a drawing-room. you are alice: i am julian. it is quite simple." "but too intimate," she objected, "you have known me only six months." "do you reckon knowledge by time?" "you have no knowledge: you confessed as much lately." hardwick looked at her earnestly. "i have this much, that i know how deeply i love you, my dear!" and he took her hand gently between his palms. alice let it lie there undisturbed, but did not return his pressure. for a few moments she looked straightly at the sunset. "i am sorry to hear you say that," was her calm remark when she did decide to speak. "why?" "because i can never love you!" "love can create love," urged julian, again pressing her hand and again receiving no answering caress. "not between you and me. you may be fire, but i am not tow to catch alight." the flush had disappeared from her face, leaving it pure and white and calm to such a degree that the man dropped her hand. it was like holding a piece of ice, and he felt chilled by the aloofness of touch and look. "but you are a woman," he said roughly in his vexation, "you must know what love means." "i don't: really i don't." alice hugged her knees and stared with the sublime quietness of an egyptian statue at his perturbed countenance. as he did not answer, she continued to speak in a deliberate way, which showed that his proposal had not touched her heart in the least. "my mother died when i was born, and i had dame trevel in the village yonder as my foster-mother until i was ten years of age. then my father sent me to a hampstead boarding school for eleven years. i returned only twelve months ago to live at tremore"--she nodded towards a long low grey house, which basked on a neighbouring hilltop like a sullen reptile in the sunshine. "but your father----?" "my father," interrupted the girl in a melancholy tone, "has no love for any one but himself. at times i think he hates me for causing the death of my mother by being born." "surely not." "well, you have seen my father. i leave you to judge." hardwick was puzzled how to reply. "he is not a man who shows his feelings, you know," he said delicately. "i don't think he has any feelings to show," replied alice indifferently. "i am used to his neglect, and so have schooled myself to be quietly agreeable without expecting any demonstrations of affection." hardwick nodded. "i have noticed, when dining at tremore, that you are more like well-bred acquaintances than father and daughter. perhaps," he added in a dreamy tone, "that is what first made me fall in love with you." "i see," said miss enistor ironically, "you have come across the line of shakespeare which says that pity is akin to love." "i have never read shakespeare's plays," admitted mr. hardwick simply. "i'm not a clever chap, you know. but you looked so forlorn in that dismal house, and seemed so starving for kind words and actions, that i wanted to take you away with me and make you happier. yes," the artist quite brightened at his own perspicuity, "that is what drew me to you--a desire to give you a really good time." alice looked at him gravely, but with a suspicion of a smile on her pale lips. "do you know, julian, that i believe you to be a good man." the artist blushed again: he had the trick of blushing on occasions, which showed him to possess still the modesty of boyhood. "oh, i say," he murmured almost inaudibly; then to cover his confusion added: "you call me julian." "yes," alice nodded her head in a stately way. "henceforth let us be the greatest of friends." "lovers," he urged, "true honest lovers." "no, julian. we would be neither true nor honest as lovers. our marriage would not be one of those made in heaven." "are any marriages made in heaven?" he asked somewhat cynically. she looked at him in surprise. "of course. when one soul meets another soul capable of blending with it, that is a heavenly marriage." "well then," he cried impetuously, "my soul and your soul?" alice shook her head. "we don't strike the same note: we are not in harmony, julian. as friends we can esteem one another, but as lovers, as man and wife, you would end in boring me as i should finally bore you." "one would think you were fifty to hear you talk so," said hardwick crossly. "do you reckon knowledge by time?" she asked, harking back to the phrase he had used earlier in the conversation. he had no reply ready. "still it is odd to hear a girl of twenty-one talk as you do, alice." "you are speaking of my new suit of clothes. i am as old as the world." "oh, that is the queer stuff your father talks. he believes in reincarnation, doesn't he?" "he does, and so do i." "i wonder that you can. a sensible girl like you----" "my dear julian, you speak without knowledge," she interrupted placidly. "that can't be knowledge which can't be proved." "i think you must be a reincarnation of nicodemus," retorted miss enistor. "that is no answer." "now how can i give you an answer, when you have not the capability of grasping the answer, julian? if a peasant wanted a mathematical problem proved to him, he would have to learn mathematics to understand it." "yes, i suppose so. but you mean----" "i mean that you have to live the life to understand the doctrine. christ said that two thousand years ago, and it is as true to-day as it was then." with his slow habit of thinking hardwick had to revolve this speech in his mind before replying. alice, with an impish look of mischief on her face, laughed also to prevent his answering. "i am taking you into deep water and you will be drowned," she said lightly, "suppose you begin your picture." "no," said the man soberly. "i don't feel like painting the picture. i don't believe i ever could," and he looked at the fading glories of sea and land regretfully. "next time you are born you will be a genius," said miss enistor cheerfully, "as you are building up in this life the brain required by a master-painter. meantime i wish you to be my friend." "well, it is hard to decline from love to friendship, but----" "no 'buts.' friendship is love from another point of view." "not my point of view." alice raised an admonitory finger. "you mustn't be selfish," she said severely. "selfish? i? how can i be?" "by wishing me to give for your gratification what i cannot give for my own. i cannot love you as you desire, because there is not that spiritual link between us which means true love. therefore to make me happy, if you really love me, you should be prepared to sacrifice yourself to the lower feeling of friendship." "that is too high for me," murmured hardwick despondingly, "but i see that you won't have me as your husband." "certainly not. i want a man to love me, not to pity me." "it isn't exactly pity." "yes it is," she insisted, "you are sorry for me because i live in a dull house with a neglectful father. it is very nice of you to think so, and it is still nicer to think that you are willing to help me by tying yourself to a woman you do not really love. but i can't accept that sacrifice. you must be my friend, julian--my true honest friend." hardwick glanced into her deep blue eyes, and unintelligent as he was in such subtle matters read his answer therein. "i shall do my best," he said with a deep sigh; "but you must give me time to cool down from passion to friendship. i want you to be my wife, and like all women you offer to be a sister to me." "or i will be your cousin if the relation will suit you better," said the girl, laughing outright at his rueful looks. julian took offence. "you don't pity me?" "not at all, since your feeling is not one of genuine love," was the cool response. "i would if it were." "one would think you were a hardened woman of the world to hear you speak in this way." "perhaps i was a woman of the world in my last incarnation, julian. i seem to have brought over a great deal of common sense to this life. you are a dear, sweet, placid thing, but although you have seen more of human nature and worldly existence this time than i have, you don't know half so much." "alice, you are conceited." "ah, that speech shows you are yet heart-whole, julian. if you were really in love you would never dare to speak so to your divinity." "well, i daresay i shall get over it. but it's hard on a fellow." "not at all. hard on your vanity perhaps, but vanity isn't you. come," alice sprang to her feet and took up her smart silver-headed cane, "the sun will soon go down and i must get home. we are friends, are we not?" she held out her hand smiling. "of course we are." hardwick bent to kiss her hand and she snatched it away swiftly. "that isn't friendship." "oh, with you friendship means: 'you may look, but you mustn't touch.'" "exactly," said miss enistor lightly, "consider me if you please as a valuable dresden china ornament under a glass shade." julian heaved another sigh and began to collect his painting materials. "i must if i must," he admitted grudgingly; "there isn't another man, i suppose?" the face of the girl grew grave. "there isn't another man whom i love, if that is what you mean," she said, reluctantly. "i have not yet met with my prince, who will wake me to love and beauty. but there is a man who wants, as you do, to be the prince." "oh hang him, who is he?" "don pablo narvaez!" "that old mummy. impossible!" "it is both possible and disagreeable. he hinted the other day that he----" "loved you? what impertinence!" "no," said alice dryly, "he did not commit himself so far. but he hinted that he would like me to be his wife. my father afterwards told me that it would be a good match for me, as don pablo is wealthy." "wealthy be blessed, alice," rejoined hardwick with great heat. "you don't want to take your husband from a museum." "i don't and i won't," she replied with great determination, "and for that reason i wish you to be my friend." "why, what can i do?" "stand by me. if my father insists upon my marrying don pablo, you must say that i am engaged to you, and this will give you the right to interfere." hardwick packed his traps, and swung up the hill on the home-path alongside the girl. "how can you ask me to take up such a position when you know that i love you, alice?" "if i thought that you did i should not ask for your help, julian. but in your own heart you know that you really do not love me. it is only what you call the glamour of my personality that has caught you for the moment. it is not improbable," she went on musingly, "that there may be some slight link between us dating from our meeting in former lives, but it is not a strong enough one to bring us together this time as man and wife!" "oh, this mystical talk makes me tired," cried the painter in quite an american way, "it's silly." "so it is from your point of view," said miss enistor promptly, "let us get down to what you call common sense in your robust anglo-saxon style. i want you to stand between me and don pablo in the way i suggest. will you?" "yes. that is--give me a day or two to think the matter over. i am flesh and blood, you know, alice, and not stone." "oh, nonsense, you deceive yourself," she retorted impatiently. "don't i tell you that if i thought your feeling for me was really genuine i should not be so wicked as to risk your unhappiness? but i know you better than you do yourself. if you loved me, would you have chatted about this, that and the other thing so lightly after i had rejected you?" "there is something in that," admitted hardwick, as alice had done previously with regard to his whole-loaf argument. "well, i daresay i shall appear as your official lover. don pablo shan't worry you if i can help it." "thanks, you dear good boy," rejoined the girl gratefully and squeezed the artist's arm. "don't you feel fire running through your veins when i touch you, julian?" "no," said hardwick stolidly. "doesn't your heart beat nineteen to the dozen: haven't you the feeling that this is heaven on earth?" "not a bit." alice dropped his arm with a merry laugh. "and you talk about being in love with me! can't you see now how wise i was to refuse you?" "well," said hardwick reluctantly, for he felt that she was perfectly right in her diagnosis; "there may be something in what you say." "there is everything in what i say," she insisted; "however, i shall give you another chance. catch me before i reach tremore and i shall be your wife." before hardwick could accept or refuse, she sprang up the narrow winding path as lightly as atalanta. more out of pique than absolute desire the artist followed. although he now began to see that he had taken a false eros for the true one, he resolutely sped after the flying figure, if only to have the pleasure of refusing the prize when he won it. but he might as well have attempted to catch an air-bubble. alice was swifter than he was, and ran in a flying way which reminded him of a darting swallow. down the declivity she dropped, following the twists of the pathway amongst the purple heather, and sprang across the brawling stream at the bottom of the valley before he was half-way down. then up she mounted, with an arch backward glance, to scale the hill whereon tremore gloomed amidst its muffling trees. at the gate set in the mouldering brick wall he nearly caught her, for pride winged his feet. but she eluded his grasp with a laugh and disappeared amongst the foliage of the miniature forest. when next she came in sight, he beheld her standing at the sombre porch of the squat mansion binding up her tresses of black hair, which had become loose with her exertions. "you don't love me," panted alice, who had scarcely got her breath, "if you did i should have been in your arms by this time." "pouf!" puffed hardwick, wiping his wet brow. "pouf! pouf! pouf!" "is that all you have to say?" "it is all i am able to say. pouf! pouf! well, my dear girl, saul went to look for his asses and found a kingdom. i went to look for a kingdom of love and find an ass--in myself." "oh no! no!" protested alice, rather distressed. "oh yes! yes! the love-mood has come and gone in the space of an afternoon, miss enistor." "alice to you, julian," and she held out her hand. the artist did not attempt to kiss it this time. "brother and sister," he said, giving the hand a hearty shake, "and official lover when necessary." "it's a bargain," replied miss enistor beaming, and so it was arranged. chapter ii the prophecy from the hilltop where alice and her rejected lover had conversed, the house called tremore could be plainly seen in its grey nakedness. but on the other side, in front and at the back, it was screened from the salt atlantic winds by a dismal wood of stone-pines, yews, cypress-trees and giant cedars, planted by various enistors in the long-distant past, when they had first set up their tent on the waste moorland. the gloomy disposition of the race could be seen, not only in the funereal types of trees chosen for sheltering the mansion, but in the grim look of the mansion itself. never was there so dreary a place. tremore means "great dwelling" in the celtic tongue, but the name could only apply to this particular house from the unusual space of ground it covered, since it was only one storey high. built of untrimmed granite blocks and roofed with dull hued slates, it stretched in a narrow line towards the rear of the hill on which it stood. here it divided into two other narrow lines, forming on the whole the exact shape of the letter "y." one of the forks contained the kitchen, the servants' sleeping apartments and the domestic offices: the other held the bedrooms of the gentry, while the main stem of the letter was made up of drawing-room, library, sitting-room and dining-room. it was an odd place quaintly planned and curiously built: but then the enistors were odd people. one markedly strange thing amongst others was the absence of vegetation about the house, since nothing would grow near it. flowers were conspicuous by their absence, turf was wanting, and not even weeds would flourish. the very trees stood aloof in sulky darkness, leaving the building isolated in an arid space of beaten earth. there it stood on the bare ground with its heavy porch, its thick walls and many small windows, bleak in its nakedness for want of draping ivy. true enough there was a kitchen-garden and a small orchard at the back, beyond the screen of trees, which flourished tolerably, but round the house greenery was wanting, as if the place was cursed. perhaps it was, as the enistors had borne a sinister reputation for generations. but whatever the reason might be, tremore might have been built in the desert from the way in which it lay like a sullen snake on the barren earth. and a two-headed snake at that, like some demon of a fairy tale. the interior of this undesirable mansion was desperately gloomy, as all the rooms were small with low ceilings, and for the most part panelled with black oak dull and unpolished. the kitchen and servants' rooms were more agreeable, as here mr. enistor had conformed to modern ideas of cheerfulness so far as to paper and tile the walls brightly. but his own particular portion of the house he would not allow to be touched, and although it was comfortable enough, it was decidedly depressing, with its sombre tints and stuffy atmosphere. often did alice leave its dark chambers and its dismal surroundings to breathe freely on the vast spaces of the moors. east and west and north and south stretched the treeless lands, covered with heather and dangerous with the shafts of worked-out mines. the village of polwellin below belonged to the enistors, and over it and its inhabitants the present head of the old family exercised a feudal sway. but beyond this particular collection of dwellings, containing one hundred people, more or less, there was no house or hamlet for some leagues. perchton, a watering-place haunted by artists, was the nearest town, and that was ten miles distant. tremore would have suited a misanthrope, but it was not a place wherein alice cared to live. she was young and inclined to mix with her fellow creatures, but never did any chance come by which she could enter society. it was no wonder that the girl was peaked and pining, and could see things invisible to the ordinary person. isolation was unhealthy for one of her temperament. seated at the heavy mahogany table, whence, in old-fashioned style, the cloth had been removed for dessert, alice almost regretted that she had not accepted hardwick's proposal to remove her from such sad surroundings. the dull carved panelling of the walls, the sombre family portraits, the cumbersome furniture, together with the lowness of the ceiling and the limited space of the room, stifled her and depressed her spirits to such a degree that she could scarcely eat. mr. enistor and don pablo--the latter dined at tremore on this particular night--were in accurate evening dress, and the whole apartment bore an aspect of good-breeding and stately ceremonial. the host was attached to the customs of his ancestors, and his meals were always served with quite royal etiquette. and by the light of the many wax candles in silver holders which illuminated the room--mr. enistor would have nothing to do with lamps--alice looked curiously at the two men, whose want of vitality, as she vaguely thought, drew the life-power from herself. she was wrong as regarded her father, for korah enistor was a handsome, healthy man in the prime of life, and had plenty of vitality in his robust frame. he looked somewhat austere with his dark hair, scarcely touched with white, his dark eyes and powerful face, which lacked colour as much as her own did. like hardwick, the man resembled a soldier, as he was tall and lean, well-built and active. also, he possessed the imperious manner of one accustomed to command men, and spoke in a slow deliberate manner with compelling glances of his dark eyes. the most casual observer would have noted that here was a strong personality given to dominate rather than to obey. all the same, alice noticed that her strong-willed father pointedly deferred to don pablo narvaez, in a way which argued that he rendered _him_ obedience. it was strange that she should entertain this idea seeing that the spaniard was as frail as enistor was strong, and did not at all look like one who could, or would, rule so aggressive a personality. this odd deference had puzzled her on previous occasions, but to-night the feeling that her father was thrall to don pablo was particularly strong. a breath, she thought, could have blown the guest away like thistledown, so frail and weak did he appear. what his age was she could not guess, but conceived that he was an octogenarian. his scanty white hair, his shrunken figure, his small wrinkled face, and the false teeth which showed when he smiled, all favoured this belief. don pablo was like an expiring flame, which the slightest breath might extinguish, and the only thing, hinting to the girl's mind at enduring life, were his eyes. these were of a brighter blue than her own, extraordinarily large and piercing, so that few could bear their direct gaze. the idea entered alice's head at the moment that here was a bunch of blooming flowers in a cracked vase of great age, or to be less fanciful, she told herself that narvaez had a weak body dominated by a powerful will which kept the life intact. she could imagine him stepping out of that fragile shape, and still be alive, more powerful and more vitalised in another. his brain was clear, his speech was incisive, and always he used his dominating eyes to compel all those he gazed at to surrender to the spell of his powerful mind. there was something sinister about his interior youthfulness and exterior senility. the girl both hated and dreaded him. being sensitive she was responsive to influences which a coarser nature--say that of hardwick--would never feel. don pablo impressed her as something terrible in spite of his weak looks. his frail body was only the jungle, as it were, that concealed the tiger, and she could imagine him putting forth powers whose force would shatter the aging tenement. what such powers might be she did not know, as he revealed nothing of his dominating nature to her. but she vaguely felt that what force he possessed was deadly evil, and would be used for purely evil purposes. therefore, warned instinctively by her pure soul, she kept out of his way as much as possible. the stealthy attempts of her father to bring youth and age together, alice resisted as best she could. but it was difficult to fight against two such commanding natures, and all the time there was the insistent feeling of being drawn into darkness. alice often blamed herself for thinking in this hostile way of her father, but could never get rid of her doubts. it was firmly rooted in her mind that narvaez and enistor were dwelling in an atmosphere of evil, which they wished to extend so as to include herself. at the moment the pressure was particularly strong, and she sighed with weariness as the invisible forces came up against her. hardly had the sound left her lips when don pablo glanced swiftly at his host. "you are tired, alice," said enistor, rising to open the door. "the heat is oppressive to-night. take a turn in the garden and you will feel better. is your head aching?" "yes, father," replied the girl almost inaudibly, and glided out of the room like an unquiet ghost to seek the life-giving moorland air. her father returned to the table in his stately fashion, and poured himself out a fresh glass of water. on the shining mahogany there were no decanters of wine: only dishes of fruit, crystal jugs of water, and the three empty coffee-cups. neither narvaez nor his host drank any alcoholic liquor: they did not indulge in smoking and were extremely temperate in eating. an ordinary man would have missed the smiling good-fellowship which is usually to be found at a dinner-table. had these two even laughed outright they would have appeared more human. but they did not, and throughout their conversation maintained a sinister calmness disconcerting in its aloofness from the chatter and merriment of commonplace mortals. yet somehow this profound quietness seemed to suit the room with its menacing atmosphere. "it is difficult," murmured don pablo, with a glance at the door. "but not impossible," returned enistor, answering the thought rather than the words. these two were versed in mind-reading beyond the ordinary. "that is as it may be, my friend!" enistor frowned. "you mean her innocence?" "is it necessary for you to put that into words?" demanded the older man in a mocking way; "of course i mean her innocence. that very purity which makes the girl so valuable to me is the wall which protects her from the influence i wish to exercise over her." "constant dropping of water wears away a stone, master." "that proverb does not apply in every case," retorted the other darkly. "i tell you that i am helpless before your daughter. i am too old for her to love me, therefore her heart is safe. she is not greedy for money, or admiration, or position, or dress, or for half a dozen things which would tempt an ordinary girl. there is no foothold to be obtained." the host cast an uneasy glance round, and his eyes grew piercing, as if he would force the invisible to become apparent. "she is guarded, we know!" narvaez' wrinkled face grew even darker than before. "yes, she is guarded. i am aware of the power that guards her." "so you have said several times, master. why not explain more fully?" "the time has not yet come to explain. if you were advanced enough to read the akashic records, then you might see much that would explain things." enistor nodded gloomily. "i understand. the present situation is the outcome of the past." "everything in life is an outcome of the past," said narvaez, "even a neophyte such as you are should be certain of that. cause and effect govern all things." "but if you would explain the cause, i might see how to deal with the effect, master." "i daresay," returned the other dryly, "but in spite of my superior knowledge, i am not yet omnipotent, enistor. i can read a trifle of the records, but not easily. there are veils before my eyes which prevent me from knowing the exact state of affairs which has brought things to this pass in this set of lives. all i can say is that you and i and your daughter, together with two other people, were in chaldea over five thousand years ago, and the lives then are linked with the lives now. the karma of that period has to be worked out while we are all in the flesh to-day." "do you know who the other two people are?" asked enistor eagerly. "i know one. he is powerful, and hostile to you and to me!" "he does not follow the left-hand path then?" "no. he is a white magician. you will see him some day when the hour strikes. i am teaching you all i can so that you may be able to confront him." "i am not afraid of any one," snapped enistor sharply. "oh, you have courage enough," admitted narvaez, "but knowledge must be added to that, if you are to be victorious. as to the other person who has to play a part in the working out of this karma----" "well! well! well?" "i don't know who or what he is," confessed the other. "he is a man then?" "yes, i know that much!" narvaez drank a glass of water, and rose with an effort as if his bones pained him. "we had better understand the situation." in spite of his mind-reading enistor could not understand and said as much with a puzzled air. narvaez laughed softly for a moment and then became his usual calm self. "i refer to the position on the physical plane of you and myself and those surrounding us--the flesh and blood puppets i mean with which we have to deal." "are they puppets?" demanded enistor dubiously. "one is not. you can guess that i mean our powerful adversary. but the others--bah!" he swept the air with one lean hand. "i think i can deal with them, if you give me your assistance." "i have promised to give it--at a price," said enistor tartly. the guest stared at him with a sphinx-like expression. "i know your price and you shall have your price," he dropped into his chair again with an air of fatigue, and his eyes grew brighter than ever. "listen, my friend. i came here from spain three years ago in search of you, as i learned by my arts that you would be useful to me. you have the blood of my race in your veins, as you know, since that spanish sailor, who was wrecked on these coasts in a galleon of the great armada, married your ancestress from whom you are descended." "i know all this, master." "quite so, but i wish to refresh your memory. i found you here a poor man----" "which i am still," interrupted enistor gloomily. "of course. the time is not yet ripe for you to gain your wish!" "my wish! my wish!" the host rose and raised his arms, with a fierce look on his powerful face. "when will it be gratified? i want money--a large amount--thousands of pounds, since money means power." "and power is the real thing you desire. the money, as we know, is only the means to obtain that power. you wish to influence men at all costs; to rule the masses; to be famous as a leader!" the sneer with which narvaez made this speech irritated enistor, although he was sufficiently educated in mystic lore to be aware how important absolute self-command is to those who deal with occultism. that is, he knew such was the case, more or less, but could never attain to the necessary calm. "it is not a contemptible ambition," he snarled savagely. "our adversary of the right-hand path would say so," rejoined narvaez coolly, "since you desire power and rule and money in order to gratify self." "i never knew that you worked for other people, narvaez," sneered enistor. the spaniard smiled coldly. "i don't, i never shall. i strive, as you do, for power, and, thanks to my knowledge, i have more than you, although it is not enough to content me. it is because your aims are the same as mine that we can work together. but alice does not desire anything and that is what baffles both of us." "in that case, she is useless to you, master, and therefore it is no good your marrying her." "once she is my wife, i can influence her more easily, enistor. as you know, i have no feeling of love for either man or woman. that philanthropic sentiment of sacrifice for humanity is disagreeable to me. in black magic, as in white, one must live like what is called a saint to be powerful. to be absolutely free you should never have married." "yet you propose to make the same mistake." "there is no mistake about the matter," said narvaez calmly, "my marriage with your daughter will be no marriage in the accepted sense of the word. i simply wish to bind her to me, so that i can train the clairvoyance she possesses which is so valuable to me. i can give her plenty of money----" "you won't give it to me," interposed the other hastily. "of course not. why should i? nothing for nothing is the rule of the left-hand path. but that i require your services and cannot dispense with them i should not waste my time teaching you my knowledge. however, the situation stands thus. i am to marry your daughter, and when i train her clairvoyantly--waken her sleeping powers, that is--we may learn from her reading of the akashic records what danger threatens." "there is a danger then?" "yes, and a very real one, which has to do with this adversary i told you about. a desire to defeat him brought me to you, and as he is your enemy as well as mine, you are wise to obey me in all things." "yet i know that when you have no further use for me, you will cast me aside as of no account," said enistor bitterly. "why not?" rejoined the other coolly. "you would act in the same way." "i am not so sure that i would." "ah. you have still some human weakness to get rid of before you can progress on the path along which you ask me to lead you. i have no use for weaklings, enistor. remember that." the host drew himself up haughtily. "i am no weakling!" "for your own sake, to-morrow, i hope you are not." "why to-morrow?" "because a blow will fall on you." enistor looked uneasy. "a blow! what kind of a blow?" "something to do with a loss of expected money. that is all i can tell you, my friend. you keep certain things from me, so if you are not entirely frank, how can you expect me to aid you?" enistor dropped into his chair again, and the perspiration beaded his dark face. "a loss of expected money," he muttered, "and lucy is ill." "who is lucy?" "my sister who lives in london. a widow called lady staunton. she has five thousand a year which she promised years ago to leave to me, so that i might restore the fortunes of the enistor family. i had news a week ago that she is very ill, and this week i was going up to see her in order to make sure she had not changed her mind." "it is useless your going to see lady staunton," said narvaez leisurely, "for she _has_ changed her mind and has made a new will." enistor scowled and clenched his hands. "how do you know?" "well, i don't know details," said the spaniard agreeably, "those have to be supplied by you. all i am certain of is that to-morrow you will receive a letter stating that you have lost some expected money. as the sole money you hope to receive is to come from lady staunton, it is logical to think that this is what will be lost. you should have told me about this and i could have worked on her mind to keep her true to you." "but it is impossible," cried enistor, rising to stride up and down in an agitated way. "lucy is as proud of our family as i am, and always said she would leave her fortune to restore us to our old position in the country." "lady staunton is a woman, and women are fickle," said narvaez cruelly. "i fear you have lost your chance this time." "you may be wrong." "i may be, but i don't think so. i was looking over your horoscope last evening, enistor, and from what i read therein i made further inquiries, which have to do with invisible powers i can control." "elementals?" "and other things," said the magician carelessly; "however i learned positively that you will get bad news of the nature i explained to-morrow. it is too late to counteract what has been done." "the will----?" "exactly, the will. from what you say i feel convinced that my knowledge applies to lady staunton and her fortune. see what comes of not being frank with me, enistor. you are a fool." "i don't believe what you say." "as you please. it does not matter to me; except," he added with emphasis, "that it makes my hold over you more secure." "what do you mean by that?" "my poor friend!" narvaez glanced back from the door towards which he had walked slowly. "you are losing what little powers you have obtained, since you cannot read my mind. why, i mean that with five thousand a year you might not be inclined to give me your daughter in marriage. as a poor man you are forced to do so." "it seems to me," said enistor angrily, "that in any case i must do so, if i wish to learn the danger which threatens me as well as you." "why, that is true. you are clever in saying that." "but perhaps this possible loss of money is the danger." "no. the danger is a greater one than the loss of money. it has to do with your life and my life in chaldea; with our adversary and with the unknown man, who is coming to take part in the drama of repayment. i have a feeling," said narvaez, passing his hand across his brow, "that the curtain rises on our drama with this loss of money." "i don't believe lucy will cheat me," cried enistor desperately. "wait until to-morrow's post," said narvaez significantly, "you will find that i am a true prophet. our bargain of my marriage with alice must continue on its present basis, as the want of money will still prevent your becoming independent. i might suggest," he added, opening the door, "that you forbid your daughter to see too much of young hardwick. she might fall in love with him and that would in a great measure destroy her clairvoyant powers. she will be of no use to either of us then. good night! when you sleep we shall meet as usual on the other plane!" narvaez departed chuckling, for disagreeables befalling others always amused him. he was absolutely without a heart and without feelings, since for ages in various bodies he had worked hard to rid himself of his humanity. enistor was on the same evil path, but as yet was human enough to worry over the inevitable. until he slept he did his best to convince himself that narvaez spoke falsely, but failed utterly in the attempt. chapter iii the fulfilment next morning enistor was gloomy and apprehensive, for he had slept very badly during the hours of darkness. he tried to persuade himself that the spaniard prophesied falsely, but some inward feeling assured him that this was not the case. before the sun set he was convinced, against his inclinations, that the sinister prediction would be fulfilled. therefore he picked up his morning letters nervously, quite expecting to find a legal one stating that lady staunton was dead and had left her five thousand a year to some stranger. fortunately for his peace of mind there was no letter of the kind, and he made a better breakfast than he might have done. all the same he was morose and sullen, so that alice had anything but a pleasant time. towards the end of the meal he relieved his feelings by scolding the girl. "i forbid you to see much of that young hardwick," he declared imperiously, "he is in love with you, and i don't wish you to marry a pauper painter!" aware that her father wished her to accept narvaez, it would have been wise for the girl to have held her tongue, since a later confession of a feigned engagement to the artist was her sole chance of resisting the loveless marriage. but enistor was one of those people who invariably drew what was worst in a person to the surface, and she answered prematurely. "mr. hardwick proposed yesterday and i refused him. therefore i can see as much of him as i want to, without running any risk of becoming his wife." enistor ignored the latter part of her reply, proposing to deal with it later. "you refused him? and why, may i ask?" "he is not the man i want for my husband. he does not complete me!" "are you then incomplete?" sneered enistor scornfully. "to my mind every woman and every man must be incomplete until a true marriage takes place!" "what is a true marriage, you silly girl?" "a marriage of souls!" "pooh! pooh! that foolish affinity business." "is it foolish?" queried alice sedately. "it appears to me to be a great truth." "appears to you!" scoffed her father. "what does a child such as you are know about such things? at your age you should be healthy enough not to think of your soul and even forget that you have one. nevertheless i am glad that you have refused hardwick, as i have other views for you." "if they include marriage with don pablo, i decline to entertain them." "do you indeed? rubbish! you are my daughter and shall do as i order." "i am a human being also, and in this instance i shall not obey." enistor frowned like a thunderstorm. "you dare to set your will against my will?" he demanded, looking at her piercingly. "in this instance i do," replied alice, meeting his gaze firmly. "i am quite willing to be an obedient daughter to you in all else. but marriage concerns my whole future and therefore i have a right to choose for myself." "you have no rights, save those i allow you to have! in refusing hardwick you have shown more sense than i expected. but don pablo you must marry!" "must i, father? and why?" "he is wealthy and he adores you." alice in spite of her nervousness laughed outright. "i am woman enough to see that don pablo only adores himself. he wants a hostess to sit at the foot of his table and entertain his friends: he has no use for a wife. as to his wealth, i would sooner be happy with a pauper than with a millionaire, provided i loved him." "silly romance: silly romance." "perhaps it is. but that is my view!" enistor frowned still more darkly, as he saw very plainly that, frail as she was, he could not hope to bend her to his will. in some way he could not explain the girl baffled his powerful personality. yet it was necessary that she should become the wife of narvaez, if the danger which the old man hinted at was to be known and conquered. "alice, listen to me," said the man entreatingly, "we are very poor and don pablo is very rich. if you marry him, you will soon be his wealthy widow, as he cannot live long. then with the money you will be able to restore the fortunes of our family and marry whomsoever you desire. be sensible!" "i refuse to sacrifice myself to a loveless marriage for your sake," said alice doggedly, and standing up like a weak lily against the force of a tempest. "you don't love me, father: you have never loved me, so why----" "i am not going to argue the point with you any longer," stormed enistor, rising hastily; "i shall force you to marry don pablo." "in that case i shall marry julian hardwick and ask him to protect me," said the girl, rising in her turn, shaking and white, but sullenly determined. "protect you! who can protect you against me? i can deal with hardwick and with you in a way you little dream of." "what you can do to mr. hardwick i do not know," said the girl steadily, "but me you cannot harm in any way, nor can you compel me, else you would long ago have used your boasted power." "are you aware that you are speaking to your father?" demanded enistor, astonished at her daring. "perfectly! i wish to be a good daughter to you, father, but in a matter which concerns my whole life i must decline to yield either to your commands or prayers!" enistor could have struck her pale face in his wrath, but, sensitive to invisible things, he became aware that there was a barrier around her which kept him at arm's length. he knew instinctively that the powerful influence pervading the room had to do with the unknown individual whom narvaez called "our adversary," and felt that he was not prepared to measure his strength against such a force. so uncomfortable and daunted did he feel, that his one desire was to leave the room, and he began to back towards the door. alice was astonished to see the perspiration beading her father's forehead and watched his departure in dismay. unaware of what was taking place, she looked upon the withdrawal as a declaration of war, and believed, with some truth, that she would have to suffer for opposing resistance to the marriage with narvaez. yet she still held out, as she felt a singular sense of security. the same power which weakened enistor strengthened her, but not being a trained occultist, she wondered how she could dare to face her father so boldly. "i shall talk to you later," breathed enistor with an effort, so hostile was the atmosphere. "meanwhile you may as well know that if you decline to become don pablo's wife, you will ruin me." the squire--that was his title as the owner of polwellin village--left his obstinate daughter in the room, and went to the library, which was his own particular domain. here the opposing influence did not follow him. sitting down heavily, he began to breathe more freely, and wondered why he had been so craven as to fly from the field of battle. although he had been anxious all his life to acquire forbidden lore, he had only learned something of the practical side of occultism since the arrival of narvaez, some three years ago. that ancient sinner was accomplished in black arts, and for his own ends was willing to impart something of his knowledge to enistor. a considerable amount of sinister teaching had been given to the squire, but as yet he was but a neophyte, and ignorant of many things. narvaez withheld much purposely, as he was keenly aware of enistor's powerful will and unscrupulous greed for power. the spaniard did not so much desire to instruct his host as to make use of him. those servants of christ, who walk on the right-hand path, are possessed entirely by the spirit of love, and are only too anxious to teach to the ignorant all that they may be capable of assimilating. but the brothers of the shadow are too inherently selfish to be generous, and merely give out sufficient knowledge to render their pupils useful servants and docile slaves. narvaez had no intention of cultivating enistor's latent powers to such a strength that they might be dangerous to himself. consequently, although the man was on the threshold of power, he had not yet crossed it, and therefore was unable to deal with the force in the dining-room, the strength of which he could not calculate. to influence alice to work for self in a way which would lure her from behind the barrier of the protecting power required more knowledge than enistor possessed. yet narvaez likewise professed fear of the adversary, and could only use cunning instead of command. the squire smiled grimly to himself as he reflected that the master himself would have been ignominiously driven from the dining-room in the same way, had he been present. of course enistor did not wish to injure his daughter in any way at which the world would look askance. he merely desired her to make a loveless marriage so as to acquire the wealth of narvaez, and so that she might be educated in clear-seeing for the purpose of averting a possible danger. what that danger might be enistor did not know, and so far as he could guess don pablo was equally ignorant. therefore it was absolutely necessary that the latent clairvoyant powers of the girl should be brought to the surface and trained, if the safety of the black magician and his pupil was to be assured. enistor was aggressively selfish, and to save himself was ready to sacrifice his daughter and a dozen human beings if necessary to the dark powers. her body, her fortune, her honour, would not be injured, but--as enistor very well knew--her soul would be in danger. for this however he cared nothing. better that the girl should perish than that he should be balked of his daring ambition. but he did not intend to surrender alice to don pablo unless his price was paid, and that price included unlimited wealth together with unlimited power over weaker mortals. narvaez alone could instruct him in the arts which could command such things. meanwhile, as enistor needed money, it was necessary for him to attend to practical matters, which had to do with lady staunton! for many years enistor had influenced his sister strongly to leave her entire fortune to him, and until narvaez had spoken on the previous evening, he had every reason to believe that he would get what he wanted. but the prediction rendered him uneasy, even though the expected letter had not yet arrived. the ides of march had truly come, but had not passed, and although the fatal epistle had failed to appear in the morning's batch of letters, it might be delivered by the evening post. all that day enistor was naturally uncomfortable and apprehensive. positive that his sister would leave him her fortune, he had rejoiced when the news of her illness arrived, and in his fancied security he had not even gone up to london to make sure that all was safe. certainly he had never dreamed of taking so long a journey to console the old lady on her death-bed; but he deeply regretted for the sake of the inheritance that he had not sought her company during her sickness. also it might have been advisable to enlist the evil services of narvaez to clinch the matter, and this omission the squire deeply lamented. however, it was now too late to do anything save wait for the post and hope for the best. he suffered as only a selfish nature can suffer, and the agonies of a truly selfish man are very great when he is thwarted. it was close upon three o'clock when he was put out of his misery by the arrival of an unexpected stranger. enistor, finding that alice had betaken herself to the safer spaces of the moorlands, had no one to torment, so he busied himself with evil practices in his gloomy library. that is, he used the teaching of narvaez to concentrate his will-power on lady staunton, so that she might still desire to leave him her money. with her visualised image in his mind's eye, he was sending powerful thoughts to her sick-bed insisting that he and he only should benefit by the will. an ignorant person would have laughed at the idea of any one being so controlled from a distance, but enistor knew perfectly well what he was doing, and made ardent use of his unholy telepathy. later when the footman announced that lady staunton's solicitor, mr. cane, desired an interview, enistor granted it without delay. it was better, he wisely thought, to know the best or the worst at once, without suffering the agonies of suspense until the evening post. the new-comer was a bustling, rosy-cheeked little man, well dressed, expansive and voluble. he had no nerves to speak of, and still less imagination, therefore he was not in the least impressed by the grey atmosphere of tremore. in fact before he condescended to business, he complimented his host on the breezy altitude of the house and the beauty of the surroundings. his courtesy was not at all appreciated, as enistor soon let him know. "i don't suppose you came here to admire the view, mr. cane," said the squire irritably. "your unexpected presence argues that my sister is dead." mr. cane's lively face assumed a solemn expression, and his airy manner became heavily professional. "you are right, mr. enistor," he said pompously, "my lamented client, lady staunton, passed away to the better land in a peaceful frame of mind at ten o'clock last night." enistor frowned and winced as he remembered his wasted telepathy. "i am sorry," he said conventionally, "and i regret greatly that i was not at hand to soothe her last moments. but unexpected business prevented my taking the journey. still, had i guessed that she was likely to die, i should have managed to be with her." "pray do not grieve, mr. enistor," exclaimed the solicitor with unintentional irony. "my lamented client's last moments were tenderly soothed by her best friend." "her best friend?" "so lady staunton termed mr. montrose!" "i never heard of him," said enistor abruptly. "who is he?" a most unexpected reply took away the squire's breath. "he is the fortunate young gentleman who inherits lady staunton's property." enistor rose in a black fury, with clenched fists and incredulous looks. "i don't understand: you must be mistaken," he said hoarsely. "i am not mistaken," replied cane dryly. "i was never more in earnest in my life, sir. it is hard on you as my late lamented client's nearest relative, i admit. in fact lady staunton thought so too, and asked me to come down as soon as she died to explain her reasons for leaving the money to mr. montrose. otherwise, since your sister, mr. enistor, did not encourage legal matters being attended to out of order, you would not have heard the news until the reading of the will after the funeral. as lady staunton died last night, the burial will take place in four days. i have no doubt as a sincere mourner you will be there." "a sincere mourner!" cried enistor, pacing the room hastily to work off his rage. "how can i be that when my sister has cheated me in this way?" "oh, not cheated, mr. enistor, not cheated," pleaded the rosy-cheeked little man more volubly than ever. "lady staunton's money was her own to dispose of as she desired. besides, she did not forget you entirely: she has left you the sum of one thousand pounds." "really!" sneered the squire savagely, "and this montrose creature inherits five thousand a year! it is wicked: infamous, scandalous. i shall upset the will, mr. cane!" the lawyer remonstrated mildly. "i fear that is impossible, mr. enistor. my lamented client was quite in her right senses when she signed the will, and as i drew it up in accordance with her instructions, you may be certain that all is in good order. i feel for you: upon my word i feel for you," added mr. cane plaintively, "and my errand cannot be called a pleasant one!" "oh, hang your feelings: what do i care for your feelings! it is my sister's iniquitous will that i am thinking about. she knew how poor i was: she was proud of being an enistor, and she faithfully promised that i should have the money in order to mend our family fortunes. what devil made her change her intentions?" "no devil that i am aware of," said cane with puny dignity. "lady staunton did make a will in your favour. but a year ago she signed a new one leaving her income to mr. montrose, who is now my client. i decline on these grounds to hear him spoken of as a devil." "oh. then it was this montrose beast who made her change her mind?" "no. certainly he did not. he is not even aware that he has inherited, as lady staunton asked me to see you first. only when the will is read, after the funeral in four days, will mr. montrose learn of his good fortune." "montrose does not know," said enistor, striding forward to stand over the little lawyer in a threatening way. "then why not destroy this last will and read the old one which is in my favour!" cane wriggled beneath enistor's fiery gaze and slipped sideways out of his chair. "are you in your right senses to----" he began, puffing indignantly. enistor cut him short. "oh, the deuce take your heroics! you know perfectly well that i should benefit rather than a stranger. i want the money and i intend to get the money. by righting this wrong you will be doing a good act, since it seems you have a conscience of sorts. if it is a matter of money----" this time it was cane who interrupted. "you insult me," he vociferated shrilly. "i am an honest lawyer----" "rather an anomaly," interpolated enistor scoffingly. "an honest lawyer," continued the little man sturdily, "and as such i am bound to consider the wishes of my client. you are asking me to commit a felony, mr. enistor. how dare you! how dare you!" he mopped his perspiring brow. "what have you seen in me to lead you to make so infamous a proposition?" "i thought i saw some vestiges of common sense," said enistor dryly. "but it seems that you are a fool with a conscience!" "i have a conscience, but i am no fool, mr. enistor! i have a great mind to tell the world at large how you endeavoured to tempt me!" "if you do, i shall put forth a counter-slander saying that you came down here to tempt _me_." "to tempt you? to tempt you, sir?" "why not? if i say that you offered to destroy the last will and substitute the first provided i gave you a large sum of money, who will refuse to believe the statement?" "any one who knows me." "ah. but the whole world does not know you, mr. cane. your immediate friends may reject the calumny, but the majority of people won't. my word is as good as yours, you know!" "you will not dare----" "oh yes, i shall dare if you dare!" "am i dealing with a gentleman or a scoundrel?" asked cane, appealing to the carved ceiling. "pooh! pooh!" said enistor cynically. "what is the use of calling names? why, a gentleman is only a scoundrel who is clever enough not to be found out." "i disagree: i disagree entirely." "i thought you would. you are not strong enough to be original. however, all this chatter will not alter circumstances. my sister has sold me in favour of this--what do you say his name is?" "mr. montrose. douglas montrose!" said cane sulkily. "he is----" "won't you sit down and explain? you will be more comfortable." "no i won't," said cane sharply and still fretted by the proposition which had been made to him. "i doubt if it would not be better for me to retire after what you have said." "oh," said enistor ironically, "your duty to your late lamented client forbids." "it does, and therefore i remain to explain. but i shall not sit down again in your presence, nor drink your wine, nor eat your food." "better wait until you are asked, mr. cane. go on and tell me about montrose." confounded by his host's disconcerting calm, the little lawyer came to the point, but delivered his explanation standing. "mr. montrose is a young scotchman, poor and handsome and clever. he is a poet and a journalist, who lives in a bloomsbury garret, ambitious of literary fame. eighteen months ago he saved lady staunton's life when her horses bolted in hyde park. he stopped them at the risk of his limbs, and prevented a serious accident!" "silly ass," muttered enistor, "if lucy had died then, the money would have come to me. go on." appalled by this crudely evil speech, cane started back. "are you a man or a demon, mr. enistor?" "you can ask riddles when you have delivered your message. though, to be sure," said enistor, sitting down, "there is little need. this handsome young pauper paid court to my sister, who was always weak and silly. his sham heroism and his good looks and effusive compliments worked on her feeble mind, and she made him her heir. am i right?" "lady staunton made mr. montrose her heir certainly," said cane, shutting up his little black bag and putting on his hat to leave. "but your description of my new client is wrong. he does not flatter any one, and his heroism was not a sham. nor was your sister feeble-minded, but a very clever----" "woman," ended enistor sharply, "and being so became the prey of this adventurer. well, mr. cane, now that you have delivered your message you can go, and i shall be obliged if you will send me the one thousand pounds as soon as possible." "oh, certainly," cried cane eagerly. enistor saw why he spoke so agreeably. "you think that by taking the one thousand pounds i condone the testament of lady staunton. perhaps you are right, but i have more strings to my bow than one. i have been infamously treated and i shall have my revenge." "you cannot revenge yourself on your sister who is dead," said cane rebukingly, "and to punish mr. montrose, who is perfectly innocent of harming you, would not be the act of a christian." "ah, but you see i am nothing so feeble-minded as a christian." "what are you then?" cane stared. "a wronged man, who intends to be revenged." "i shall protect my client," cried the lawyer vigorously. "naturally, your fees will be larger if you do. but don't protect him at the cost of my character, or it will be the worse for your own." "i am not afraid!" "indeed you are! horribly afraid. however, you needn't faint on my doorstep as that would be inconvenient. good-day: your trap is waiting." cane got away at once, quite convinced that enistor was not wholly in his right mind. his rosy cheeks were pale as he drove away, and his courage was dashed by enistor's unscrupulous threat. "he is dangerous," thought the lawyer. "i must hold my tongue!" and he did. chapter iv plotting the prophecy of narvaez should have softened the blow to enistor in the moment of its fulfilment. but it did not, for the simple reason that he had tried his best to disbelieve the spaniard, in spite of his knowledge of the man's powers. don pablo, as the result of prying beyond the boundaries of the visible, possessed in active working super-senses latent in the ordinary man, and so he could literally see through a brick wall. certainly his vision was not invariably clear, and at times the details of his prognostications were incorrect. in the present instance he had foretold that enistor should receive his bad news by letter, whereas mr. cane had come down personally to convey the disagreeable intelligence. but the actual fact that enistor would lose the money had been proved beyond all doubt, and the squire found the one undeniable truth so unpleasant that he was careless about minor mistakes. as soon as cane, without bite or sup, had driven away in the direction of perchton, enistor made his way across the moors to the back-country where narvaez had his abode. it was impossible that he could keep the knowledge of his bad fortune to himself, and moreover he wanted advice with regard to his future actions. the squire was clever as men go, and usually decided all matters for himself; but in this instance it was necessary to consult a mastermind. don pablo was not only a shrewd and highly educated man, versed in knowledge of the world, but also possessed super-physical information which was both dangerous and useful. that is, the lore was dangerous to any who did not possess the spirit of love, and useful to an unscrupulous and wholly selfish man. both enistor and his master thought only of themselves and were prepared to crush without remorse all that stood in their way. at the present moment the unknown montrose was an obstacle in enistor's path and he wished narvaez to assist in his removal. the spaniard would only give his services if he saw that their use would benefit himself. and as the squire knew that the wily old man wished him to remain poor in order to retain mastery over him, it was not likely that he would help him to gain a fortune. enistor therefore was not certain that he would be aided, and more for the sake of talking himself free of care than for any other reason sought the cottage of the magician. and don pablo's abode was really and truly a four-roomed cottage, where he lived along with a simple-minded old cornish woman of sixty, who attended to his few wants. enistor knew that narvaez was immensely rich, and wondered why he should live so penuriously and humbly. but the man was almost wholly devoid of desire for things which mankind covets. he ate and drank sparingly: he cared nothing for society: his dress was plain but neat, and he was too much taken up with study to entertain. narvaez, as his neighbour soon found out, was consumed by a passion for power: not that kind of power which is displayed openly by royalty or politicians or merchant-princes, but the secret power which sways the destinies of individuals and nations without apparent sign. for this he studied day and night, and crossed constantly the boundaries between the worlds visible and invisible. he obtained no physical benefit from the exercise of such command, but the passion of hidden sovereignty satisfied his soul, and that was all he cared about. he had long since risen above the sphere wherein the virtues and vices of men dispute pre-eminence, and lived above the healthy necessary turmoil of ordinary life to reign in solitude as a cold, calm, intellectual and merciless tyrant, doing evil because it gratified self. he disobeyed the law of love which is giving, and isolated himself in a kingdom of his own, which his desire for rule had cut off from the great empire of god. his sole connection with men and women was to destroy their protecting will and make them slaves to his whims. in this way he acted with regard to enistor, else he would not have taught the man anything about dark magic. but narvaez knew well that enistor, possessed of as fierce and unscrupulous a nature as his own, and almost as powerful a will, would never be a slave. consequently he was obliged to act cautiously in his association with him. enistor, if he became too learned in forbidden lore, might well become don pablo's rival, to dispute the bad sovereignty which the spaniard loved. as a matter of fact narvaez would not have meddled with the cornish squire at all but that he knew that a common danger menaced both, which enistor, through his daughter, might avert. narvaez was clever and powerful, and wholly given to self-worship, but he was by no means omnipotent, and at times it was necessary to defend his position. thus by the offer to teach enistor how to realise his ambitions, he managed to make the man more or less obedient: but there was always the danger of revolt should enistor learn too thoroughly the laws of the invisible world, which interpenetrates the visible. don pablo, however, was content with the position of affairs, as his pupil was not yet strong enough to measure swords. and before he was, the spaniard hoped to secure his ends and leave enistor in the lurch. the cottage was of grey stone, a clumsy rugged-looking habitation set on the side of a purple-clothed hill, beside a grass-grown lane, which meandered down the valley. on the slope of the hill were many disused mining shafts with huge mounds of earth and ruined buildings beside them. the hilltops had been a roman camp, and the boundaries could still be defined. in the centre and amongst many gigantic stones was a sacrificial altar of the druids, with grooves cut in its hardness so that the blood of the victims might stream to the ground. alice never liked this unholy hill, as she was sensitive enough to feel the influence which clung round it. but narvaez had established his home beside the miniature mountain, because on moonless nights he could perform uncanny ceremonies on the altar, which was given over to the dark powers he worshipped and propitiated. enistor had likewise taken part in these sacrilegious doings and shivered at the memory of certain things, when he sighted the sinister grey monoliths which crowned the hill. great as was his courage, it was not entirely proof against the deadly influences of the evil beings who haunted the place, although in a lesser degree than narvaez he could compel them to service by performing certain rites. enistor was ushered into don pablo's study by the housekeeper, a brown-faced cheery old woman, too simple-minded to understand her master's weird powers. the apartment was of no great size, and the limited space was but sparsely furnished. there were only a table, which served as a desk, two chairs, a well-filled bookcase and a ponderous iron safe, wherein narvaez stored what valuables he had by him. the walls were draped with dull red cloth, and the floor, oddly enough, was covered with a black carpet. the effect was menacing and impressive. when the visitor entered, a fire-place wherein large logs flamed faced him, while opposite the one window looking out on to the hilltop was a closed door leading to a sealed apartment, which don pablo allowed no one to enter into save himself and his pupil. across the passage was a dining-room together with a tiny kitchen and a bedroom for the housekeeper at the back. the cottage itself was placed in a disorderly uncultivated garden surrounded by a loosely built stone wall. there was no upstairs, and the house being roofed with slate covered with moss presented a sombre appearance. in its greyness it resembled a huge toad squatting amongst the heather. "how can you bear a fire on this hot day?" asked enistor, throwing himself into the vacant chair and speaking irritably. "you are in that kind of humour which seeks any outlet for its relief," was the spaniard's irrelevant reply. "how often have i told you that it is necessary for you to get complete command of your temper. i have a fire because this body i occupy just now is nearly worn out and requires artificial heat to sustain it." "why don't you get a new one?" demanded the visitor still crossly. "some day i shall," rejoined narvaez significantly, "at present this one serves me tolerably well. i control it thoroughly: you do not manage yours properly: it is your master, enistor. ah! you have much to learn." "i have reason to be cross." "no one has any reason to be cross. to lose one's temper simply shows that one is not yet free from ordinary human limitations. however, at your stage of learning i excuse you. it is hard to lose a large income, as you have done." "what, you know----?" "not by any super-physical means, enistor," said narvaez, coolly leaning back in his chair. "i walked to the top of the hill with a field-glass, and saw that you had a visitor. as so few people come here, it is only logical on my part to assume that the man was some messenger sent to tell you of lady staunton's death and your own loss." "well, the news did not come in a letter, as you prophesied," snapped enistor. "i am not the pope to be infallible," said don pablo dryly, "and the matter is so trivial that i did not examine into things sufficiently to be entirely certain of details." "trivial to you: not to me!" said the squire gloomily. "nonsense! your possession of that income is only delayed. you have not lost it altogether!" enistor looked up sharply. "did you make an invisible third at my interview with cane?" "i?" don pablo shrugged his aged shoulders. "do you think that i have nothing to do but to waste my time in that way? no! i only say that you will regain the money, because i shall assist you to get it. you must have your price even though it is but a temporary one." "what do you mean by temporary?" asked enistor unpleasantly. "any one who works for money, or earthly fame, or earthly power has to surrender what he gains when death comes. but he who labours to acquire super-physical powers as i do--those powers which can dominate men without their knowing, gets what he can never lose, however many the deaths or lives!" "i shall work for that later, master. at present i require money so as to take my proper position in the world, and sway men at will." "a limited ambition," scoffed narvaez. "however, what you desire you shall acquire, as you won't let me have your daughter without a price." "would you do something for nothing yourself, don pablo?" "no," said the magician honestly. "i take what i want if i am strong enough to do so. otherwise i buy what i require. nothing for nothing and something for something--if there is no other way of getting it. that is my rule." "it is the rule of the majority of mankind." "true, my friend," chuckled narvaez, settling himself comfortably. "mankind has a long way to travel before the law of love is learned." "the law of love?" "you give all and ask no return! think of it: how dull life would be then, enistor! however, we have argued enough, and my time is valuable. what about your interview with this lawyer? i must have details if i am to assist you." enistor looked at his master with a sneer. "i should have thought that a man with your powers would have known everything without requiring explanations." "if it had been worth my while i would have made myself acquainted with all that took place," said the other man blandly; "but your affairs do not interest me save the necessity of paying your price. well?" the squire looked again at narvaez, and this time with gloomy distaste. it was often borne in upon him how entirely selfish don pablo was. but by this time he knew beyond question that those who take the left-hand path are forgetful of all save themselves. and enistor could scarcely blame narvaez for owning a quality which was almost as highly developed in his own nature. "might is right!" is the rule of black magic, and the survival of the fittest is the sole way to attain supremacy. enistor had fully committed himself to the worship of his own being, yet there was sufficient good in him to struggle at times against the isolating power of selfishness. however it was worse than useless to argue away accepted facts, so he swallowed his anger and quietly detailed all that had taken place. "hum!" said narvaez, smoothing his wrinkled face when the last word was spoken. "you have made my task more difficult than was necessary." "in what way?" scowled the squire, who disliked correction. "in several ways," was the serene response. "your idea of threatening cane was a good one, and had you called me to your assistance i could have worked along those lines. the man--from what you say--is weak, and my power added to yours would have secured the destruction of the second will, and the substitution of the first. then you would have got the money without trouble. by weakening in your attack, you have simply turned cane into your enemy." "he won't dare to say anything, if that is what you mean." "it is not what i mean, enistor. of course, since a lawyer, like cæsar's wife, should be above reproach, cane will not speak lest you should accuse him of offering to suppress the second will. but that doesn't much matter. the point is that you had him at a disadvantage and did not press your point. a well-directed thought would have brought me to your house, and i could have compelled the man to yield." "i am not so sure of that. he is honest." "what does that matter?" asked don pablo, opening his eyes contemptuously. "honest or not, i should have obsessed him to such a degree that he would have committed himself too far to retreat. of course if he was guarded my control would have effected nothing. but our adversary only protects alice, and in this instance would not have interfered. and yet," narvaez suddenly looked round, as though aware of some new influence, "he might have prevented my exercise of power. it is necessary for the money to go to montrose so that the chaldean drama should be played out in this set of lives." "is montrose the other man you spoke of at dinner last night?" don pablo threw up his hand to compel silence, closed his eyes to shut out the world of sense and listened intently. as he did so, his face grew dark and angry. "i defy you: i defy you!" he said vehemently, addressing some invisible person, as it appeared to enistor. "plot as you will, i can counterplot!" then he was silent for a moment, and opening his eyes lowered his hand. "the adversary," he said quietly to his guest, but still looked fierce. "he is aware of our schemes, and says they will not succeed, if he can prevent their success. well, i shall pit my strength against his." "the adversary then is not absolutely certain of success?" asked enistor. "no. because man has free-will. if montrose and alice are guided by the adversary, our task will indeed be difficult. but if you and i can make either stumble, the game will end in our favour. as i said, enistor, this loss of money is the beginning of the drama. you can see for yourself, because by its going to montrose it brings him on to the stage. and yet," added narvaez with a furious gesture, "had you called me in to deal with that lawyer, i might have suppressed the second will and have prevented montrose coming into the matter. the adversary told me just now that he would have intervened also, but cane being weak and having free-will--as all men have--could not have stood out against my domination." "well," said enistor gloomily; "it seems that owing to my ignorance----" "your folly," interrupted the other sharply. "folly if you will then. but owing to my ignorance or folly we have lost the first move in the game. what now?" narvaez shrugged. "we must take a roundabout way instead of going by the direct path. that is closed by your not pressing your advantage with cane. now montrose will obtain the money! very good. he can retain it until i get it back from him to give it to you." "the money is rightfully mine," cried enistor vehemently, "and come what may i intend to gain it!" "you will never gain it if you bluster and fume in that way," said don pablo coldly; "keep your temper and self-control, and we shall soon be at grips with the adversary. he is no mean antagonist, i assure you." "well, master, what is to be done? i leave myself in your hands!" "i wouldn't assist you otherwise." narvaez considered for a few moments. "i think it will be best to send alice to london for a few months. the time of her stay will depend upon her chances of falling in love with montrose." enistor jumped up and stamped. "she doesn't know montrose," he declared in an angry manner, "she will never know him if i can help it." "you are unable to help it," said narvaez frigidly. "the karma of chaldea is bound to bring montrose and alice together. this much i am sure of, although i am ignorant of the details. well, let us carry the war into the enemy's camp, enistor. with this thousand pounds which you inherit, give alice a few months in london on the plea that she requires a gay life to cheer her up. she will meet montrose and he will fall in love with her. i am certain of this as his fate and her fate are intermingled. then you can give your consent to the marriage----" "what about your desire to marry alice?" interrupted the squire, much puzzled. "that can be gratified later," said don pablo coolly. "don't you see what i mean, enistor? when alice desires to marry montrose, you will naturally invite your proposed son-in-law here to acquaint yourself with his character. once he is on the spot"--narvaez smiled cruelly and drew a deep breath--"i think you can safely leave him to me." "what will you do?" "never mind. i have a plan in my head which may or may not succeed. there is no need to tell you what it is. you shall see its results. your work is to send alice to london." "i don't quite understand," said enistor, trying to read his master's thoughts, but in vain. "but i shall obey your instructions. but if alice is to meet montrose in society i fear it will be difficult to induce her to go out for enjoyment so soon after her aunt's death." "oh, montrose as the heir of lady staunton will feel the same way. but it is not necessary for the two to meet at public functions. a quiet evening here, a little dinner there, and the introduction is accomplished. you need not trouble about details, enistor. the accumulated result of good and evil, which we call karma, will bring them together." "you are willing to surrender alice, i see." "oh, dear me, no! montrose can make love to her until he is in my net. afterwards, when the money comes to you and montrose comes to the gallows, alice can be my wife." "the gallows. you don't mean----" "i mean nothing at present," interrupted narvaez impatiently, "but you can't fight battles with squirts. montrose is in your path and mine, so he has to be removed. the means may be unpleasant, but they will not harm you in any way. i assure you of that emphatically." "will they harm alice?" "only through her affections; not otherwise. what a heap of scruples you have, enistor," sneered the old man; "one would think you were a school-girl instead of a grown man. you don't care for montrose, or for your daughter." "not at all," admitted enistor selfishly. "all the same, murder----!" "oh, if the word frightens you, call it blood-atonement. and the restitution of the fortune may be managed without the sacrifice of montrose's life, if you will insist upon this silly weakness. if you wish to tread the left-hand path, enistor, you must get rid of scruples. trample on every one, slay, ruin, devastate: as the stronger you have the right to do so." the squire winced at this abominable teaching, although in his innermost heart he subscribed to it. and after all, as he thought, in the world of to-day the weaker is still the prey of the stronger. he was only carrying out more thoroughly what every one did in a lesser degree. without further pangs he gave in to the necessity of montrose being removed by a legal death. "but his hanging will involve the commission of a murder by him," he said suddenly. "perhaps," said the other man ambiguously. "but you had better wait and see, enistor. i can't waste time in arguing down your scruples. if you can't face these things, leave the matter alone and deal with the future danger yourself. but remember that only alice can describe what that danger is, and she must become my wife to be trained as a clairvoyante." "you didn't want her to love hardwick because you said the passion would destroy her powers," said enistor irrelevantly. "what about her love for this montrose? won't that do harm?" "unfortunately it will," sighed narvaez vexedly, "but i can't prevent the blossoming of the love. the great law of karma is stronger than i am. i can only deal with the free-will of both and warp their natures if possible. i think you had better go now. i have much to do!" enistor scowled at the imperious tone and tried--as he often did--to match his will against that of narvaez. it suddenly came to him that he could find an easier way out of the difficulty and reduce don pablo's power over him by acting in the ordinary selfish way sanctioned by custom. "one moment," he said testily. "montrose has the money, it is true, and legally there is no chance of getting it from him. but if he becomes my son-in-law, i shall be able to keep the income in the family." "quite so," assented narvaez indifferently. "if you want the money for the family--to build up the enistor fortunes as county people i suppose you mean--your suggestion is excellent. montrose can take your name and along with his wife will be great in the land. where you will be i leave you to say." "i don't want montrose to be great in the land, and i don't suppose that he has the brains to become so. but he and alice will probably allow me to handle the income and----" "and you will use it for your own advancement. eh?" "why not? my advancement as head of the family will mean theirs." "probably, if you wish to waste time, energy and cash in building up your decayed race. but montrose may have his own ideas to carry out, and those may not include consent to your possession of the family purse. complete ownership of the money makes him stronger than you are." "stronger than i am? we shall see," and enistor laughed at the idea. "very likely, when it is too late, you probably will see, and won't be pleased with what you do see. however, it is your business, not mine. i can return to spain and learn what i wish to learn in other ways." "but the teaching you are giving me?" narvaez sneered. "with an obedient son-in-law possessed of five thousand a year you will not want the teaching." the squire looked as alarmed as a self-confident man well could. he had scarcely counted upon this attitude being taken by his master. "i want the teaching more than i want the money," he confessed uneasily. "you can have both if you will permit me to carry out my plans," said don pablo, acidly polite. "otherwise you must be satisfied to sink back into the ordinary rank and file of humanity. my fee for teaching super-physical knowledge is possession of your daughter as my wife. therefore your idea of securing the handling of this money by forwarding her marriage with montrose does not meet with my approval. you can take your choice. i--as you will be pleased to observe--do not coerce you in any way." "you can't," cried the squire with sudden fury. "let us leave it at that," rejoined the spaniard amiably. enistor stamped, swore under his breath and bit his nails angrily, while narvaez smiled in a hatefully bland manner. certainly the marriage of montrose and alice would bring back the money to the family; but it might not--and here the egotist saw danger--put it into his own particular pocket. lady staunton's heir might be self-willed, obstinate and foolish--there was no knowing what qualities he might possess likely to thwart his proposed father-in-law's schemes. and should he prove to be recalcitrant, enistor recognised that the marriage would only make matters worse. he would gain by it neither the teaching nor the fortune, and would have bartered the substance for the shadow. to have the money would be good: to acquire the secret lore would be better: to have both would be best of all. and both he could have for certain if he agreed to allow narvaez to take command. for the teaching would make him a minor god, while the five thousand a year--even if he got it, which was doubtful--would not even make him a millionaire. "you remind me," said the tempter, smiling as hatefully as ever, "of an ass between two bundles of hay. with my help i repeat you can have both." "the money and the teaching: the teaching and the money." enistor opened and shut his hands, drawing deep breaths and thinking profoundly. "exactly! on condition that i marry alice." "i agree." enistor came to the decision swiftly. "understand! i am to have a free hand and your obedience." the other man nodded, not knowing how fatal to himself was that sign of acquiescence. at that moment he stood at the cross-roads, free to choose good or evil, and his fierce greed led him to take the left-hand path down which this dark guide beckoned him to destruction. with a little chuckling laugh narvaez received his victim's allegiance, and turned to his work. then in the same tone of voice he made exactly the same remark as he had made when enistor first hesitated. "i think you had better go now; i have much to do." enistor thus abruptly dismissed returned home pondering deeply on the way. by this time he was sufficiently infected with the cynicism of narvaez to accept the situation, and to do what was necessary to turn alice into a decoy for montrose. whether the bird would be lured into don pablo's nest he could not be sure, as cane might warn his client of danger. enistor now saw how very foolish he had been to make the man his enemy. but he comforted himself with the idea that the little lawyer would not dare to speak in the face of a possible accusation of having offered to suppress the second will. also, even if he did speak, montrose being in love would never listen to him. on the whole therefore, enistor felt confident on reflection that the fortunate young man would appear at tremore. then he could be left to the malignant devices of don pablo narvaez. that evening at dinner enistor abruptly announced the death of his sister, the loss of the money, and the good fortune of mr. douglas montrose. he listened quietly to alice's regrets, then informed her that she could go to london for a month in a very short space of time. the girl demurred. "i can't go out into society when aunt lucy is dead," she said. "there's no need for you to go into society," said her father, who anticipated the objection. "you can stay quietly in town and enjoy yourself in a small way. this place is rather dull for so young a girl as you are. the question is who can chaperon you, seeing that your aunt lucy is dead." "mrs. barrast can, father," said alice eagerly and much flushed, for the prospect of escaping from that gloomy house was delightful. "who is she?" "julian's--i mean mr. hardwick's sister. i met her at perchton last christmas, and so did you." "oh, i remember; that frivolous little fool of a woman with no more brains than a sparrow. yes! you can go to her, if she will have you." "she will be very glad," said alice eagerly. "she is fond of me." "very good." enistor rose deliberately. "then that is settled!" chapter v the meeting having settled that alice should go to london in that singularly short and abrupt conversation, enistor refused to discuss the matter further. he ran up to town himself within the next four days, not so much to appear at his sister's funeral, which he duly attended, as to get the promised thousand pounds. he did not meet montrose, since he purposely kept out of the young man's way, in spite of cane's suggestion that there should be a meeting. enistor, instructed by his master, decided that it would be best to let montrose fall in love with alice, and approach him in the character of a proposed son-in-law. of course the squire had no doubt but what the affections of the young people would be engaged as narvaez predicted. the fulfilment of the prophecy concerning the loss of the money had considerably strengthened his faith in the spaniard's powers. with cane the squire got on much better, as he was anxious to obliterate, for obvious reasons, the bad impression he had made on the little man. enistor pretended that he had only acted as he had done to see if cane was honest, and professed himself quite willing to be content with his scanty inheritance. whether the solicitor believed him or not it was impossible to say, but he feigned a belief and behaved with extraordinary civility to enistor. cane even went so far as to pay the thousand pounds out of his private account, so that the squire should not have to wait for the winding up of lady staunton's estate. by the acceptance of this money, it was tacitly understood that enistor would not contest the will, and cane drew a long breath of relief when the receipt was given. there certainly was no chance that the second will could be upset, but the lawyer did not wish for any public action to be taken, lest mention should be made of the visit to tremore. for even though that visit had been authorised by the dead woman, the vague threat of the squire might come out in open court. cane was quite innocent of wishing to destroy the will, and could deny the possible assertion on oath. but he knew well that however guiltless a man may be, there are always those who quote the "no smoke without fire" proverb. therefore cane was sincerely glad to have the matter settled without dispute, and for that very reason had given enistor a cheque on his private account. when the squire departed, the little man felt that all danger was at an end. enistor arrived back at polwellin in very good spirits, as for many a long year he had not handled so large a sum of money. being of a luxurious nature he bought many unnecessary things, and spent on himself a considerable sum which could have been used for better purposes. however, on the sprat-to-catch-a-mackerel theory, he set aside a certain ample amount for alice's season in london. acting the part of a fond father, he told her that she was to spare no expense, but to have all she wanted in the matter of clothes and jewellery and enjoyment. the girl was secretly amazed at this sudden kindness on the part of her usually neglectful parent, but being young, and being a woman, she gladly took advantage of the opportunity to purchase pretty things. in the selection of frocks and hats and feminine frippery she had the benefit of mrs. barrast's taste, and the little woman congratulated her on having so lavish a father. "you will like amy when you know her better," hardwick had said to alice, when the subject of chaperonage was broached; "but you will soon grow tired of her. her sole idea in life is chiffons. she will be delighted to introduce you into her particular set of frivolous kill-time wastrels, but with your nature, alice, you will never meet a man at her house likely to appeal to you as a husband!" this was perfectly true, as in spite of her youth miss enistor was a thoughtful girl, who wanted more food for her mind than an endless round of bridge-parties and whist-drives and cinderella dances and theatre visits, coupled with airy gossip about this person and that. mrs. barrast was only too pleased to chaperon a tolerably pretty girl of good family who was possessed of plenty of money, and she did her best to give her guest an amusing time. but what julian prophesied soon came to pass. alice grew weary of the dainty little woman's frivolity and shallow nature. it was like an industrious bee living with a butterfly. "you are a darling," said mrs. barrast when alice had been a week in the charming house in hans crescent; "quite the nicest thing i ever met. and your good looks don't clash with mine. that is so satisfactory, isn't it?" "i am not good-looking," said alice soberly. "of course not. good-looking is a word which one applies to a man. but you are lovely in a moonlight, misty kind of vapoury way," babbled the other. "i think you look charming in that mourning, and madame coralie has such good taste. i wish you would marry julian, dear: you are just the sort of romantic head-in-the-clouds darling he loves." "julian would not suit me, nor would i suit julian," said miss enistor decidedly. "we have arranged to be brother and sister." mrs. barrast sighed. "such a dull relationship. frederick and i live together something in the same way. of course he's my husband and i'm his wife, although i don't know why i ever married him. but he goes his own way to blue books and politics and vestry-meetings and those horridly dull things, while i go mine, seeking for a heart that will understand me." "that is a dangerous quest, mrs. barrast," said alice seriously. mrs. barrast pounced on her guest with many kisses. "you chilly darling, why don't you call me amy, as i have asked you to again and again!" "well then, amy, you should not let all these young men make love to you." "but they will, my dear. there is something about me which draws them in spite of themselves, poor dears. and after all i don't mean anything wrong, you know, alice. platonic friendships are my delight." "that is a dangerous word between a married woman and an unmarried man." "dangerous quest: dangerous word. my dear, you talk as if you were one hundred and forty years of age," cried mrs. barrast petulantly. "i have lived much alone and have thought deeply, amy." "oh, my dear, you shouldn't think. it always wrinkles one dreadfully to think, you know. frederick thinks and just look at him. one would take him to be my grandfather." "i like mr. barrast very much," said alice quietly, and she did, for the master of the house was the only person to whom she could talk sensibly. "run away with him then. no," mrs. barrast reflected, "don't do that. after all frederick is rich and my husband, though i don't know why i married him." "would you have married him had he been poor?" mrs. barrast screamed in a pretty playful way. "of course not, darling. what odd things you say. all frederick's attraction lies in his money and his brains. he is clever, you know, and is too much taken up with politics to look at any other woman, which is so satisfactory. i was so poor when i met him that i was glad to marry him. and i'm sure i make him a very good wife, alice," ended mrs. barrast in an injured tone, "so you needn't raise your eyebrows in that nasty sort of way." "i only meant----" "i know what you mean. it's sure to be something to do with dr. watts's hymns, as you are that sort of girl. i wish you weren't so particular about mourning, dear, as then i could take you to heaps and heaps of places where one can have a really good time. we'll go to hurlingham this afternoon. now you can't refuse. i've set my heart on your going to hurlingham." it was little use alice refusing, as mrs. barrast was one of those desperately persistent people who always get their own way. miss enistor, who had been fond of her aunt lucy, really wished to go out as little as possible, and but that she was anxious to escape from gloomy tremore and the attentions of don pablo, would never have come to live with the butterfly. however, her hostess was so kind, and alice was so young, and the contrast between london life and cornish life was so great, that she really did enjoy herself immensely. besides there was always frederick to talk to, a tall grave man with iron-grey hair, who treated his pretty young wife in a most indulgent manner, and was as amused with her shallow frivolity as richelieu must have been with the pranks of his kittens. there was really no harm in the dainty little woman and, in spite of her platonic philanderings, she never gave frederick any serious cause for rebuke. one cannot be angry with a morsel of thistledown, and that is the best description of mrs. barrast. always charmingly dressed and delightfully vivacious, she floated from house to house in a frolicsome fairy kind of way. dullness fled when mrs. barrast entered a room. it was strange that so airy and nimble-witted a woman should be the sister of a stolid giant like julian, with his serious views of art and life. but he was very fond of amy barrast, although she flouted his advice and told him frequently that he was as dull as tombs, a witticism she had picked up from an american admirer. hardwick came several times to london while alice stayed in hans crescent, but always returned to his beloved west country, as the frivolity of his sister's circle was altogether too much for him. by this time he had accepted the rôle of miss enistor's brother, and the two were most confidential. "are you tired of all this, alice?" asked julian, after a particularly frivolous luncheon. "this rubbish must bore one of your thoughtful disposition." alice, who was looking unusually charming, laughed gaily. "i have left my thoughtful disposition at tremore," she said in a light tone. "while i am in rome i must do as the romans do." "do?" said hardwick; "they don't do anything!" "but they do, julian. they work harder than any labourer to kill time. i do not think that i should like to lead this life always, but it is a change from the dullness of polwellin, you know. the month i have been here has improved my health and spirits. i am sure that i thought too much." "possibly! all work and no play is as bad as all play and no work. when do you return?" "i have no settled time to return. father says that i can stay as long as i like. though of course i don't want to outstay my welcome." "you won't, alice. never think that. amy likes to have you here, and frederick says that you are the most sensible girl he ever met. you should go with amy to cowes later on." alice shook her head. "i am not sure. i must go back some time or another, as father won't let me remain away for ever. besides i really think that i shall grow weary of pleasure. blue skies and constant sunshine bore one." "yes, i quite understand. but remember when you come back you will again be exposed to the attentions of that old mummy." alice shuddered. "don pablo? is he as often at tremore as ever?" "more often. and when he isn't at tremore, your father goes to his cottage on the moors. i can't understand why your father likes him so much. there seems to be something evil about narvaez." "oh!" alice laid a trembling hand on his arm; "have you felt that also?" "yes. i'm not a sensitive chap as a rule, but narvaez makes me uncomfortable--just like mr. hyde in stevenson's story, you know. whatever you do, don't consent to be his wife, alice." "i certainly shall not, whatever my father may say. at the worst i can always marry you." "that isn't a compliment," murmured hardwick, mortified. "well, you know what i mean. i respect you and like you, even if i don't love you, julian. and if i did marry you i should never give you cause to complain of coldness on my part." "oh, alice"--his face lighted up. "no! no! no! the compact still stands. until i am driven into a corner we are only brother and sister." "of course. it's an odd arrangement." "well, i admit that, and only a really kind-hearted, sensible man such as you are would understand and keep to such an arrangement. sometimes i think i am doing wrong in holding you to our compact, but on reflection i don't think that i am doing wrong. if you loved me as a man should love a woman, it would be different and then i should be playing with fire. but you don't." "no," said julian honestly, "you are quite right. i like you: i have a deep affection for you, and at all costs would protect your happiness. but i am quite sure now that i don't love you in the way you would like to be loved." alice drew a deep breath of relief. "how nice to hear you talk so reasonably, julian. we quite understand one another, don't we?" "quite," he hesitated, and then spoke softly. "have you seen any one who----" "of course i haven't," interrupted the girl hastily; "you said that i should meet with no one to suit me here. not that i am looking out for a husband, you know, julian!" "i do know. all the same you are sure to come across prince charming some day, and then i shall surrender my guardianship to him. you are certain to choose some nice fellow, who won't mind our continuing our brother and sister arrangement when you are mrs. somebody." "h'm!" said the girl dubiously; "if mr. somebody loves me, he may object to a triangle of that sort. besides, you may marry yourself, julian." "i may," said hardwick in his stolid way, "but at present i am at your service as a stop-gap husband if don pablo and your father drive you into a corner, alice." "how dreadfully immoral a stop-gap husband sounds!" laughed miss enistor, but appreciated the offer all the same. it was impossible to combat alone two strong natures like those of her father and narvaez; therefore to have hardwick on her side was a great gain. nothing would ever induce her to marry don pablo. alice was certain of that. but as speedy events proved it was not necessary for julian to hold himself at miss enistor's disposal in this loyal way. six weeks after alice was in london, circumstances brought about the meeting with montrose. the girl knew that this young man had inherited her aunt's money, but as enistor, when informing her of the fact, had said nothing very bitter, she had no grudge against the fortunate legatee. certainly she regretted the loss for her father's sake, but decided with instinctive fairness that lady staunton had a right to do what she would with her own. alice had seen but little of her aunt in past years, although the old lady had sometimes invited her to pay a visit. consequently she had heard nothing of montrose, and wondered what he was like. when mrs. barrast mentioned the name, alice was curious to see the young man. and there was every chance that she would, as it appeared that mrs. barrast's doctor wished to bring him to dinner. "and dr. eberstein is such a delightful man that any friend of his is certain to be a darling," babbled the little woman. "you haven't met my doctor, have you, dear. he attends me for nerves! i am a great sufferer from nerves, and i'm sure if those christian martyrs they make such a fuss over suffered as much as i do, i quite understand them being praised. but i am sure they never did." "have you ever met mr. montrose?" asked alice anxiously, for she wanted to have a sketch of the young man beforehand. "no, my dear. dr. eberstein says he is very handsome and very nice, and has a lot of money!" "that is quite true, amy. mr. montrose inherited my aunt's money." "oh, my dear, what a disagreeable thing for you. i shall write to dr. eberstein and say that i can't ask him and his friend to dinner." "why not?" asked alice bluntly. "well, you don't want to meet a man who has robbed you of----" "he has not robbed me." "your father, i mean, alice." "nor my father, amy. lady staunton had a perfect right to do what she liked with her money. my father is not at all annoyed, nor am i." "what a perfect, christian feeling!" exclaimed mrs. barrast; "and how odd that you shouldn't be angry! how much money have you lost?" "none at all," said miss enistor rather impatiently; "but my aunt left mr. montrose five thousand a year." "oh, how dreadful! my dear, if i were in your shoes i should scratch his eyes out. of course your father is rich----" "my father is very poor. i only had this season in town because my aunt did leave him a little money." "your father is poor! that makes his conduct and yours the odder, if there is such a word. i think it's very unjust, a sister not leaving her money to a brother and keeping it in the family. my dear," added mrs. barrast impressively, "this wrong must be put right. you shall marry this young man, if he is nice and agreeable. then the money will come back to you." "don't make such plans, amy. i don't want to marry any one." "my dear, that's quite immoral." "oh, nonsense! if you begin to be a match-maker i shall refuse to meet mr. montrose." "then you don't want me to ask him to dinner?" "ask him if you like: only don't expect me to fall into his arms." "as if i expected you to do anything so silly," said mrs. barrast, and withdrew to pen her invitation to the doctor and his friend. by this time, in her own mind, she was quite determined to arrange a match between montrose and alice, being one of those busybodies who will meddle with what does not concern them in the least. but mrs. barrast did not look at her proposed scheming in this light. she thought she was behaving very kindly to alice. the girl herself was really anxious to meet montrose now that there was a chance of doing so. never having felt the want of money, she had not given much thought to the loss of the inheritance, and did not know how vexed her father was to see montrose get the income. enistor had particularly refrained from expressing his vexation, since he did not wish alice to be biased against the fortunate youth. therefore alice was quite prepared to be just towards montrose, and to like him, if his personality appealed to her. a very unsophisticated maiden was miss enistor. in a similar position mrs. barrast would have schemed to recover the lost fortune by marriage, if the man had been as ugly as a cyclops, and indeed, as can be seen, really did intend to right things in this way. but alice was quite content to let montrose remain a bachelor and enjoy the money after his own fashion. mr. barrast had to attend to his political duties on the evening appointed for the dinner, which was perhaps the reason why his frivolous wife selected that special evening. frederick was a kill-joy, she said, and moreover she did not wish to ask an extra woman to dinner. mr. montrose could attend to alice and she, as the hostess, could attend to dr. eberstein. they would enjoy a pleasant meal, and afterwards could chat and have music in the drawing-room. also dr. eberstein might be induced to tell their fortune, or prophesy events, or do wonderful things which, according to mrs. barrast, he was capable of doing when willing. as a matter of fact, eberstein had the reputation of being a psychic doctor, and of knowing more about the unseen than most people. but in spite of mrs. barrast's babbling, he never by any chance performed the wonders which she spoke about. all the same, with the pertinacity of her nature mrs. barrast intended to ask him to give an exhibition of his powers, and as frederick did not approve of such things, this was another reason why she chose an evening when he would be engaged. "frederick is quite a heathen, you know, dear," said mrs. barrast, when the two ladies were in the drawing-room waiting for the two guests, "he says that to help poor people is better than being religious." "to help the poor _is_ to be religious," said alice quietly. mrs. barrast made a grimace and looked in a near mirror to see that her hair was in good order. "oh, i know you are that sort of person also, dear. julian tells me that you are hand in glove with your vicar." "the vicar of polwellin is a good man, amy." "how dull! i never did like good people, who are fond of the ragged poor and starving children and all that slum sort of thing. though i'm sure i have helped dozens of times in bazaars and charity dances to get money for them. and i really needed the money more than they did," concluded mrs. barrast plaintively. she flitted round the drawing-room in her usual restless manner, arranging the flowers, rearranging the many useless objects of luxury, and generally passing the time in meddling, chattering continuously. the drawing-room was suggestive of her brainless nature, as it was filled with costly things of no possible use; frivolous rubbish that had taken her fancy for the moment and then had been more or less forgotten. there was ample space, plenty of light and colour, and all the appliances of civilisation for an easy, luxurious existence. but repose was lacking, as the hostess had communicated to the room some of her abnormal restlessness. mrs. barrast was always screwed up to concert pitch and never gave herself, or any one in her vicinity, a single moment of peace. this incessant desire to say something or to do something, however silly, was gradually forcing alice to consider seriously the necessity of cutting short her visit. there was an excess of oxygen in the atmosphere of mrs. barrast that disturbed the girl's serene nature. "oh, here they are at last," cried the hostess with another glance into the mirror, as her quick ear caught a sound outside the door. "i am so glad, as i am so hungry. then you see, dear--oh, dr. eberstein, how are you? so very glad to see you. and mr. montrose! it _is_ mr. montrose, isn't it? how do you do? so pleased to meet you. dr. eberstein, this is miss enistor, who is staying with me for a few weeks. mr. montrose, miss enistor. and now we can go to dinner. i am sure you are both dying for food!" the doctor bowed gravely to alice and remained somewhat in the background talking, or rather listening, to the voluble mrs. barrast. it seemed as if he had stepped back to be a spectator of the meeting between the younger people, for alice felt, rather than saw, that his eyes were upon her. but she was too much taken up with montrose to consider this for a moment. the young man advanced silently, a tall slim figure, graceful and virile. his dark eyes were fixed on alice in a puzzled sort of way, as if something about her perplexed him greatly. on her part, the girl rose from the chair to meet his gaze more directly than was consistent with the first introduction of a youth and a maiden. she did not know why he appeared to be familiar to her. it was not his looks, for these were new to her. but in his eyes there was something which hinted that he was less a stranger than a very dear friend. of course, what knowledge of reincarnation she had gained from her father told her that the body was nothing and the soul was everything. certainly she had never seen montrose before in the flesh, but through his eyes there looked a soul which she knew. all this flashed through her troubled mind in a second and the blood crimsoned her face as she impulsively held out her hand. with a soft quick indrawn breath the young man took it. he was evidently as perplexed as she was. only by an effort did he release the girl's slim hand and find his voice. "i am glad to meet you, miss enistor!" his voice broke the spell, and alice became aware--at least she thought as much--that she had been acting foolishly. of course he would be confused to meet the niece of the lady whose money he had inherited. that was the reason of his odd look and strange silence. but she would put him at his ease at once, since there was nothing to be gained by being stiff with a perfectly innocent person. and then--here came in the momentary memory again--she liked him at sight more than any one she had ever seen. she repeated his words. "i am glad to meet you, mr. montrose!" and then the two smiled at one another in a somewhat embarrassed way. "there's the gong," cried mrs. barrast gaily, "your arm, doctor. we shall have a pleasant dinner and a delightful evening!" "i am sure of that, mrs. barrast," said the other positively. "the evening has commenced most auspiciously." alice asked herself what he meant and laid her hand on montrose's arm. she did not get an answer to her mental question until much later. chapter vi a conversation dinner was served, not in the large dining-room, used on high days and festivals, but in a small octagonal apartment, reserved for such minor occasions. its walls were of polished white wood, gaily painted with wreaths of flowers bound with knots of blue ribbon and held by naked cupids, dimpled and rosy. there was a blue-tiled fire-place in which stood a brass cradle for the flaming coals, though at present, the weather being warm, this was filled with ferns and bulrushes. the ceiling was painted with sunset clouds, the carpet was moss-green sprinkled with bunches of daisies, and the furniture was of cream-coloured wood. in the centre stood a round table of no great size, at which the hostess and her guests took their seats. two smart parlour-maids attended to their wants, as mrs. barrast preferred to dispense with footmen and butler, save when she gave a state dinner to people she did not care about. "frederick's friends, you know," she explained airily, when unfolding her napkin. "the people who like things-as-they-ought-to-be. i think things-as-they-ought-not-to-be are more amusing myself. more of a surprise, you know." "if you pushed that theory to extremes, mrs. barrast," said dr. eberstein in a dry way, "you would find the world excessively disagreeable." "oh, i don't know, doctor. people in society all say the same things and do the same things and think the same things. i adore originality myself." "if originality made you uncomfortable you would change your mind." "i daresay. but that would be no novelty. i am always changing my mind!" "consequently your nervous system gets out of order and you have to come to me to have it set right." "if i and others did not come to you where would your practice be?" asked mrs. barrast, accepting fish from the parlour-maid. "if one didn't change one's mind the world would stand still." dr. eberstein laughed. "that is a deeper remark than you guess, mrs. barrast," he said quietly. "but there is one change of mind and another change of mind." "of course," the frivolous little woman opened her eyes widely, "if there were not another change of mind there would be no change at all." "true, o queen! you speak wiser than you know." "tell frederick that, doctor. he says i have no ideas, and what i have aren't ideas at all. no! i don't mean that! but he says--well, i don't know exactly what frederick says. nobody ever does, especially when he gets up to make a speech in the house. but he's a dear fellow all the same, and do try that hock, doctor. it is particularly good!" eberstein smiled and refused, as he drank nothing but water. he looked on mrs. barrast as an irresponsible delightful child, who had everything to learn, yet who could not be taught, as it was impossible for her to concentrate her attention for one whole minute. a butterfly herself, she chased other butterflies and danced along a sunny path careless of whither she was going. the doctor knew that in the nature of things she would have to learn what life meant some day: but did not tell her so. mrs. barrast would not have understood him if he had. while eating and listening to the remarks of montrose, the youngest member of the party stole frequent looks at eberstein. he was not very tall, rather stout, some years over fifty, and had a healthy clean-shaven face. alice by no means considered him handsome, but when he smiled there was a kind and helpful look in his grey eyes which drew her to him. she felt that he was cool, wise, tolerant, and anxious to aid his fellow mortals. mr. montrose--so ran her thoughts--was very fortunate to have such a friend. in the hour of need eberstein would prove staunch. alice was positive of this although she had no experience of the man's nature. but added to the ordinary feminine intuition she possessed a subtle clairvoyant instinct, undeveloped though it was, and without any positive proof she would have staked her existence on eberstein's being a really good and helpful man. one in a thousand. but as a woman her feelings inclined to montrose, since he was extremely handsome and likewise fascinating. the unusual combination of auburn hair and dark eyes was striking, and his clearly cut features of the greek type impressed her with a sense of belonging to a thoroughbred stock. his shapely body, his slim hands and feet, his lithe active strength, suggested a racehorse perfection. a well-formed head showed that he had brains, and a resolute chin revealed courage and decision. altogether miss enistor was favourably impressed with the looks of the young man who had inherited lady staunton's money, and thought that he would make good use of it. as to her other feeling, of his soul being familiar to her, she had not yet reasoned that out in a way to satisfy herself. at present all she knew was that she and montrose seemed to be old acquaintances, and they chatted as if they were friends of many years' standing. mrs. barrast remarked this. "you two get on very well together," she said shrewdly, when the dessert was placed on the table, and eberstein smiled when she made the remark. "we seem to suit one another," was montrose's reply: then added, to avert personal remarks on the part of mrs. barrast: "i wonder how it is that one is repelled by some people and drawn to others at first sight." "ask miss enistor for the explanation," said eberstein quietly. alice was startled by the directness of his speech. "how do you know that i can explain, doctor?" "oh, dr. eberstein knows all manner of things other people don't know," chimed in the hostess. "i am quite afraid of him sometimes. he is as wise as the sea and as deep!" "and as useful, i hope," said the doctor, smiling genially. "however, montrose has not yet asked miss enistor for a reply to his question." the young man laughed and looked at the flower-like face of his neighbour with great admiration. "how is it some people repel while others attract?" "the doctrine of reincarnation explains," replied the girl, forced to answer plainly while the doctor's calm, grey eyes were on her. "those people who repel have done one an injury in some previous life: those who attract have done good, or at least have been friendly." "likewise in other lives?" questioned the doctor. "of course. although i do not know if you believe in reincarnation?" "oh," mrs. barrast uttered a little shriek and dabbled her fingers in the bowl of rose-water at her elbow. "he believes in all manner of dreadful things, my dear. how he can do so i cannot understand, when he is so clever. i think reincarnation is rubbish myself." "oh, no! no!" protested montrose. "what! you believe in our having lived before also? really it is very odd and queer of you. alice too. my dear, where did you learn such awful nonsense?" "from my father," said miss enistor dryly; "and if you met him, amy, you would not think he was the man to teach nonsense!" "then he's got a bee in his bonnet." "he doesn't wear a bonnet." "oh, alice, you know perfectly well what i mean. he's crazy!" miss enistor laughed. "i think my father is the sanest person i have ever met, amy. why shouldn't reincarnation be a great truth?" "it isn't in the bible," said mrs. barrast pettishly, for the conversation being beyond her was somewhat boring to her small intellect. "and what isn't in the bible is wrong." "you are of the caliph omar's opinion with regard to the koran when he ordered the library of alexandria to be burnt," observed eberstein; "but if you will read st. matthew, verse , chapter xi, you will find that reincarnation is plainly acknowledged. also in st. john's gospel, chapter ix, verses and , it is plainly hinted at. origen, the most learned of the christian fathers, believed in the law of rebirth and----" "oh, it's all nonsense," interrupted mrs. barrast, weary of the explanation. "so be it," admitted the doctor quietly, "it is all nonsense. _your_ brain is the measure of the universe." "i'm sure i don't know what you mean. frederick says that i haven't any brain to speak of: as if i could live if i haven't," said mrs. barrast incoherently. "let us have coffee here while you gentlemen smoke. oh, i forgot: you don't smoke, doctor. mr. montrose?" "thank you," and the young man accepted a cigarette from mrs. barrast's own particular case. "you smoke yourself, i see." "oh, yes." mrs. barrast lighted her little roll of tobacco. "it soothes me. i am all nerves, you know. alice, will you----?" "no, thank you. i am not all nerves!" "i'm sure i wonder you aren't, living in cornwall with sea-gulls and moors and those sort of things. you will like this coffee, dr. eberstein. there is a vanilla bean in each cup, which makes it so nice." "very good coffee," said the other, sipping gravely, and wondering if mrs. barrast was aware of the rubbish she talked. the little woman apparently was not, as she conversed volubly, darting from this subject to that after the manner of a swallow. she mentioned several novels which had attracted her frivolous attention, talked of some musical comedies she had seen, criticised the fashions, told one or two tales dealing with scandals concerning various people, and in every way monopolised the conversation, until it was time to return to the drawing-room. alice, who wished to converse with montrose, was pleased when this move was made, as it appeared to be the only chance of ending mrs. barrast's airy nothings. for a few moments she was alone with her hostess and seized the chance of asking if dr. eberstein was a german. "i suppose he is," said mrs. barrast gravely, "his name sounds like it. but i can't say what he is. he talks all languages as well as he talks english, and never says anything about his father and mother. but he's very nice, isn't he, alice? a kind of soul-doctor, you know, who tells his patients that mind is stronger than matter. not exactly christian science, but something like it. he has never come to dinner before. i'm sure i don't know why, as i have asked him dozens of times." alice thought that she knew the reason, which had to do with mrs. barrast's frothy chatter, but was too polite to put her idea into words. "what do you think of mr. montrose?" she asked, anxious for a second opinion. "good-looking but stupid," was mrs. barrast's verdict; "not a second idea in his head. however, he has money--your money, dear, so you ought to marry him." "he has not got my money," said miss enistor tartly, "and even if he had i certainly should not marry him for his wealth." "i daresay: you are such a funny girl. not at all like a human being. it's silly not to eat a pear that has fallen into your mouth." "mr. montrose being the pear?" "of course. he is head over ears in love with you already. i'm not his style evidently. not that i care," ended mrs. barrast, caring very much indeed. "go in and win, alice, and let me design the bridesmaids' dresses. pink silk and white----" mrs. barrast's chatter about chiffons was put a stop to by the entrance of the gentlemen. as if it had been arranged, dr. eberstein walked over to mrs. barrast and engaged her in conversation. montrose hesitated, then came to the corner wherein alice was seated. he looked extremely handsome and attractive; she was more than ever taken with his appearance. smiling amiably, she made room for him to sit down beside her on the ottoman, but waited for him to begin the conversation. he did so with an abruptness which startled her. "i hope you are not my enemy," said the young man earnestly. alice raised her eyebrows. "why should i be?" "well, you see lady staunton left me her money!" "why not, mr. montrose? it was her own money!" "yes. but do you think it was right that she should leave it away from her relations?" "if she wished to. why not?" "you don't regret the loss?" he looked at her very directly. "not at all. i have never given the matter any consideration." "and your father?" "he is quite satisfied with the legacy left to him by aunt lucy," said alice unhesitatingly, for she knew nothing of enistor's wrath about the loss. montrose drew a long breath of relief. "i am glad to hear you say that," he said thankfully. "i don't mind telling you, miss enistor, that, when i heard of my good fortune, it was my first intention to surrender the money to your father. i was persuaded not to do so by dr. eberstein." "he is a friend of yours?" she asked carelessly. "the best friend a man ever had: the best friend a man could have. he cares for nothing save to do good. i see you raise your eyebrows, thinking of how he advised me to keep lady staunton's money. but he did so, because it was necessary." "why?" demanded alice point-blank. "i can't tell you. he said it was necessary, so i obeyed him." "would you have obeyed him if he had told you to give my father the money?" "yes," said montrose truthfully and unhesitatingly. "and to put it plainly, miss enistor, it is harder for me to keep the money than to surrender it. i don't require so large an income." "yet my father heard from mr. cane that you were poor." "very poor. i was starving when i first made lady staunton's acquaintance, miss enistor. my parents died when i was a child, and i was brought up by an old aunt in edinburgh. when i was eighteen years of age she passed away, leaving me what little she had. i came to london with the idea of writing poetry and plays. but my work would not sell, and when my money came to an end, i starved until i managed to drift into journalism. even then i only managed to keep body and soul together in a bloomsbury garret. when i saved your aunt's life, she gave me employment as her secretary to deal with her many charities. but i assure you that she never expressed any intention of leaving her money to me. if she had, i should have objected, since her brother was alive. however, she did leave me this large income, and i was ready to give it up, until eberstein told me it was necessary to keep it." "i wonder why?" said alice thoughtfully, and greatly interested in the story he had told. "eberstein will not tell me. but he has a good reason for what he says and i always obey him, knowing his true friendship. a few years ago i was dying of starvation and pneumonia in my attic, and he saved my life. since then i have been with him constantly. as you believe in reincarnation, miss enistor, i may as well tell you that there is some tie between you and me dating from former lives. what it is i cannot say, as eberstein refuses to explain. he brought me here to-night to meet you." "oh!" alice darted a swift piercing look at the young man's earnest face and wondered if he was as guileless as he appeared to be. "how did he know that i was here?" "he is mrs. barrast's doctor, you know," said montrose simply. the girl did not reply immediately. she was considering if there was not some conspiracy on foot to entangle her in a marriage bond. dr. eberstein looked kindly and sympathetic, yet for his own ends he might have brought herself and montrose together. was he an honest man, or a schemer? was montrose his victim, or his accomplice? and what had she to do with either of the two men? as she thought thus, there came a wave of that same overpowering influence which she had felt in the tremore dining-room. it seemed to sweep away the suggestion of evil with which she had almost unconsciously credited eberstein and his young friend. "i don't understand," she said faintly and turned white. "are you ill?" asked montrose, alarmed. it was plain that he did not feel the influence as she did. "no! no! i shall be all right soon. the heat----" here she broke off with a surprised look. "why, i _am_ all right. i never felt better in my life. did you feel anything just now?" "feel anything?" montrose looked puzzled. "what do you mean, miss enistor?" "nothing at all," she replied quickly and evasively, for she decided that it would not do to be too frank with this young man until she knew more of him. "only the heat, you know, and these dinners. i am a quiet country girl, mr. montrose, and am not accustomed to london life." "i like the country myself, miss enistor," sighed the young man wistfully. "i have long since wanted to live in the country, as london in some ways worries me. i can't explain myself more fully. "i know what you feel like," said alice, nodding wisely. "you are sensitive as i am. to be in the country is like being in clean water, while london is like bathing in a dirty pool." "oh," montrose's face flushed and brightened. "how did you guess?" "because i feel as you do. it is the evil thoughts that are in london which affect you. my father knows something about psychic matters and has taught me a little. that is why i believe in reincarnation." montrose nodded in his turn. "eberstein first spoke to me on the subject and placed life in a new light before me. i used to wonder why i had such a bad time, and complained greatly about my lot. but he made all things plain to me. i can bear life's burdens now with a serene heart." alice was amused when she reflected on his position. "you have health and wealth, good looks and a good friend. it is easy to bear such burdens." "ah, but you forget that i went through many a long year of sorrow and bewildered pain, miss enistor. besides, money does not bring happiness. i never can be enthusiastic over money." "people with large incomes can afford to say that," said alice cynically. "is that a hit at me?" retorted montrose good-humouredly; "if so it misses its mark, i assure you. i am quite willing to give back the money to your father if eberstein tells me to." "why should you obey him?" "because he knows more than i do. i look upon him as a guide." alice shook her head. "every man should think for himself." "so eberstein says," replied montrose unexpectedly; "and all he does is to give me hints, leaving me to take them or reject them as i choose. fortunately i know how little i do know, and i am glad to have a more experienced man to help me." "experienced?" "yes. in the things of this world and the next." "is dr. eberstein religious then?" "not in the narrow sense in which the word religious is used. but he is a wonderful man, as you will learn when you see more of him. i don't want you to think me weak and without will-power, miss enistor, because i constantly quote eberstein. but the most accomplished general is glad to obey the guidance of a man who knows the lie of the land when marching through the enemy's country." "the enemy's country?" "you might call the world so." miss enistor moved restlessly. "what an odd conversation we are having!" she said in a nervous way. "we have only met to-night for the first time, and yet we are quite confidential." "it is better to talk as we are doing than to gossip," said montrose sententiously. "and how do you know we have met for the first time to-night?" "i have never seen you before," said the girl sharply. "you have not seen douglas montrose, nor have i seen alice enistor," was the reply. "but in other bodies, in other lives, we have been friends: the very best of friends." "how do you know that?" asked alice, wilfully dense, although her heart endorsed every word the young man said. "need i explain?" he stared at her hard. "no," she answered after a short pause. "i can guess your meaning. when we shook hands we were drawn together by--well, i can't say." "by the friendship of the past!" "yes," she hesitated; "i suppose so! but other people would think we were talking sad nonsense, mr. montrose." "what does it matter what other people think?" said the young man calmly. "not much. but one has to consider the world in which one lives." "mrs. barrast?" "no! no! no!" alice laughed outright and rose, as she felt that he was getting on altogether too fast. "she is very tolerant." "that is something in her favour, considering how narrow people are as a rule in this world." montrose got on his feet also. "before we join her and eberstein, let me hear you assure me that you do not look upon me as a grasping enemy who has taken your father's money." "i assure you of that certainly," said the girl frankly, and gave him her hand with a smile. "if you had not mentioned the subject i should never have referred to it. keep the money, mr. montrose, and make what use you will of it. both my father and myself are quite content," and she said this about enistor once more, entirely unaware of its falsity. "you are good," said montrose impetuously. "few people would take a loss so kindly." "well, like yourself i cannot get up any enthusiasm about money. come, let us join mrs. barrast." "one moment. shall i see you again?" "if you like. i am staying here for a few weeks!" "if i like." the young man's face was eloquent and the look in his eyes betrayed his heart to alice in a moment. with a laugh to hide her confusion she turned away to join her hostess, and came face to face with dr. eberstein. "well met, miss enistor," said the elder man in a genial manner and staring at her very directly. "i was just coming to take montrose away." "yes," called out mrs. barrast, "he is going, and at eleven o'clock too. so very early. what can we do with the rest of the evening?" "i advise bed," said eberstein pointedly. "bed for me," endorsed alice gaily. "i feel rather tired." "i don't think you do," said the doctor calmly: and to miss enistor's surprise on consideration she did not. but as he spoke she again felt a wave of that strange uplifting influence and drew back, startled to find that it emanated from the doctor. eberstein smiled quietly, "good-night!" "good-night, mr. montrose," said mrs. barrast pointedly. "next time you come, talk to me as well as to miss enistor!" "i apologise for my bad manners," said montrose quickly. "what a compliment to me!" laughed alice, shrugging her shoulders. "oh, you understand me, i think, miss enistor," he looked at her straightly. she returned his look flushing. "i think i do," was her low reply. "such nonsense," said mrs. barrast irritably: for her the evening had not been a success. chapter vii behind the scenes it was a delightfully warm summer night when eberstein and his young friend left the house. for some little distance they walked on in silence, as eberstein was never voluble and montrose felt disinclined to speak at the moment. oblivious of his surroundings, more or less, he moved mechanically by the doctor's side, dreaming of alice and of the love which existed between them. considering he had met her for the first time an hour or so previously, it seemed ridiculous, even in a dream, to think that she had any such tender feeling for him. but something in the deeps of his own nature was struggling to the surface to assure him that his dream was truth. much as he valued eberstein's company, he wished him away at the moment that he might puzzle out the meaning of this strange intuition. "but that is impossible, just now," said the doctor quietly. "i wish you to come to my house, as i have much to say, and something to show." montrose was startled, as he often was at eberstein's speeches. "you know what i am thinking about?" "is that so strange?" "well, it isn't, really. you have extraordinary penetration. sometimes i am quite afraid of you." "you are never afraid of me," replied eberstein, shaking his head with a benevolent smile. "think!" "no!" montrose reflected for a few moments. "it is true. i am not afraid!" the doctor smiled approvingly. "that is right. fear would prevent my aiding you in any way, and you need aid more than you guess. remember what the bible says, my friend: 'in quietness and confidence shall be your strength.'" "faith and peace of mind are so hard to get," complained the young man sadly. "very hard. the blessed one said that the path was difficult." "the blessed one!" "christ: your master and mine," replied eberstein solemnly. "strait is the gate and narrow is the way which leadeth to life and few there be that find it." "and those who do not find it are lost?" "for the time being, not eternally. god is very gentle with his straying sheep, and we have many lives, many opportunities to find the way to the fold. you are coming to the strait gate, montrose; therefore my aid is given to you lest you should faint on the hard uphill journey." "i am not good enough even to approach the gate," sighed the young man. "so you think! but the standard of goodness is not kept on earth, but in heaven, my friend. however"--eberstein broke off to hail a taxi--"we can talk of these things when we reach my house. get in, montrose!" the young man did so, and was followed by his master, who told the chauffeur to drive to bloomsbury. eberstein lived in that unfashionable district, not-withstanding the fact that his practice lay largely amongst wealthy and aristocratic people. many of the doctor's patients wondered why he did not select a better-class neighbourhood, but eberstein never gave them any information on this point. yet his known character might have revealed the reason to an ordinarily shrewd person very easily. the man was greatly given to helping the poor and needy. not so much the proverbial ragged paupers of the slums--although he helped those also when necessary--as poor curates, badly paid clerks, shabby governesses, struggling ladies, and such-like persons, who had to keep up some sort of appearance on nothing. his money, his sympathy, his medical skill, were all wholly at the service of those who could not pay, and the fees received from his rich patients went to ameliorate the sufferings of the self-respecting, who never complained and showed their pauperism as little as was possible. eberstein made no boast of his philanthropy: he never even spoke of his many good works. it was perfectly natural for him to go silently attentive about the work of his master christ, as he knew he could act in no other way without going contrary to his whole being. to feed the hungry, to clothe the naked, to teach the ignorant, to comfort the desolate: for these purposes he was in the world. in one of his exploring expeditions eberstein had found montrose dying in a garret and had set him on his legs again in a sympathetic brotherly way which had not offended the young man's pride. more than that, he had supplied food for the starving soul as well as for the starving body, and by explaining the riddles of life in a perfectly reasonable way he had entirely changed montrose's outlook. his protégé had been puzzled by this absolutely unselfish conduct, not understanding from inexperience that no return was demanded for these great gifts. but as his limitations began to expand through the teaching, he began to comprehend, and finally he accepted eberstein as a kind of angel in the flesh, sent to help him in his hour of need. and the philanthropist was so unaffectedly sincere, so reasonable and sympathetic, that the rescued man grew to love him with a reverence rare in the younger generation. the doctor restored his faith in human existence. "here we are," said eberstein, alighting from the taxi and dismissing it. "we can now have an undisturbed hour for conversation." the doctor admitted himself into the quiet house with his latch-key, as the servants were all in bed. they were never kept up late by their considerate employer, since he recognised that they required their necessary sleep. so the two men entered the hall, ascended the stairs, and betook themselves to a large room at the very top of the mansion. eberstein kept this entirely to himself, not even seeing his friends therein, much less his patients. therefore it was with some surprise and more curiosity that montrose stepped into the apartment and closed the door after him. then he uttered an exclamation of pleasure--a soft exclamation, for the atmosphere of the place suggested a church. "what a wonderful room," breathed montrose, staring round him, "and how holy." he scarcely knew what caused him to utter the last word, unless it was the unusual looks of the spacious room. everything was white; the walls, the carpet, the ceiling, and even the light which radiated from two large lamps with opaque globes. the table, the few chairs, the bookcase, and the sofa were of white wood with silken cushions like mounds of snow, and the draperies which veiled the volumes and the windows were also the hue of milk. yet there was no suggestion of winter in the colourless expanse, for the air was warm and the atmosphere so charged with perfect peace that montrose felt quite at home. the room, he felt, expressed eberstein himself. it might have been the chapel of the holy grail. "you never brought me here before," said the young man, feeling that his dark garments were a blot on the purity of the surroundings, "although you have known me for three years, more or less." "no," assented the doctor, seating himself before the table and indicating a chair for his guest, "it was not necessary." "is it necessary to-night?" "i should not have brought you here, had it not been." "but why this night of all nights?" persisted the other wonderingly. "you have met miss enistor." montrose was more bewildered than ever. "what has she got to do with it, or with me, or with anything?" "ask yourself," said eberstein, and looked steadily into the eyes of montrose. "i ask myself!" murmured the guest, mechanically compelled to the speech. those kind grey eyes on a level with his own a little distance away poured, as it seemed, such a flood of light towards him that montrose voluntarily closed his own. yet it was not a dazzling light which need have frightened him, but an all-enfolding steady radiance, which bathed his whole being in luminous splendour, until he felt that he was partaking of that peace of god which passeth understanding. the tide of glory lifted him up higher and higher beyond the gross envelope of the physical body until he felt himself soaring without wings into an all-embracing sphere of glorious music which expressed itself in colour. in this ocean of rainbow hues he floated, aware that he was using super-physical senses to view super-physical scenes. on him descended, with the swiftness of thought, a golden cloud more brilliant than the noonday sun, and this dissolved away to reveal the form of a young girl clothed in floating white draperies. the face was fair, the hair corn-coloured, the eyes deeply blue and the figure majestic and graceful. anything more unlike the elfin beauty of alice can scarcely be imagined. yet he knew beyond all doubt that this was alice in another shape which she had worn in another clime under alien stars. his soul flowed out to blend with her soul in one flame of unity. but there was a barrier between them which montrose strove to break through. try as he might he could not. even in that heaven-world, despair seized him, when he found that the invisible barrier withheld him from his beloved. on her side she seemed equally desirous to come to him, and held out her arms in vain longing. on his face and her face were looks of appealing love baffled by the impossibility of meeting heart to heart. then a shadow grew up between them swiftly; the shadow menacing and dark of a yellow-skinned man, rather like a chinese, from whose throat ran a stream of blood. who this man was montrose could not tell, even though he had recognised alice in a different guise. and the enemy--montrose felt that the wounded creature was an enemy--grew larger and larger until the blackness of which he was part blotted out the splendour of the girl. blotted out also the atmosphere of colour and music and radiancy, until montrose, sinking downward in the gloom, opened his physical eyes to find himself seated in the chair opposite eberstein. only a single moment had elapsed, for the journey had been as swift as that of mahomet to the seventh heaven mounted on al borak, but he seemed to have been away for hours. the discrepancy was to montrose impossible to reconcile, even though he grasped confusedly the fact that he had been--in the fourth dimension say--where there is no time. "you now know what alice enistor has to do with you," said eberstein in a quiet impressive tone. "i don't in one way," faltered the still bewildered young man, "and yet i do in another. all i can be certain of is that she is mine." "undoubtedly. she is yours and you are hers." "then why could we not come together?" "the shadow of your sin came between and parted you." "my sin?" "that which you committed five thousand years ago," explained the doctor patiently. "then, self-willed, self-centred, you would not wait the striking of the hour which would have made you one, and therefore, seeking to obtain your desire by force, you broke the great law. the great law broke you, as it breaks all who disobey. for many ages your soul and her soul have been asunder, but now in the fullness of time you meet again on this physical plane in new vestments of flesh. but your sin has not yet been expiated, and you cannot yet be one with her you love. the shadow stands between you twain and will stand until the debt is paid." "the shadow--the man?" stammered montrose confusedly. "you owe him a life!" "but he is my enemy. i feel strongly that he is my enemy." "he was and is: it depends greatly upon you if he continues to be. if one obeys truly the law of love, one must not be angered even with one's enemy. what says the blessed son of the most high god?" as if the words had been placed in his mouth, montrose replied softly: "love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you!" eberstein bowed his stately head. "such is the law of love." rubbing his eyes to make certain that he was entirely awake, montrose sought for an interpretation. "i do not quite understand." "there is no need for you to understand further, my friend. this much enlightenment has been vouchsafed you through the mercy of god. for the rest you must work and walk by faith, seeing as in a glass darkly, obeying the great law of your own free will, so that your unselfish love may cause hatred to cease." "whose hatred?" "that of the man you sinned against. only with the aid of the blessed one!"--eberstein made the sign of the cross--"can you prevent the son of perdition from descending into the abyss." "who is the son of perdition?" "your enemy, whom christ loves as he loves you. your task is to make yourself a channel through which the grace of the blessed one can freely pour for the salvation of this erring soul. oh, think how glorious it is that you should be permitted to be the instrument of christ in this mighty work." "but i do not know how to go about the work!" exclaimed the bewildered man. "watch and pray, my son, for the time when you must act is near at hand. only by making yourself receptive to the holy influence will you know how to act when the time is ripe." "you will help me?" "i am bound to help you since i am obedient to the law. but much has to be done by yourself, montrose. i cannot command, as each man has free-will with which even the logos himself does not interfere. christ stands at the door of your heart, but will not enter unless you invite his entrance. only by doing what you ought to do will the spirit of love enter and sup with you." "but what am i to do?" demanded montrose desperately. "ask your own heart." "it says nothing." "the time is not yet ripe for it to say anything. watch and pray! come," the doctor spoke in a more matter-of-fact tone, "it is growing late. go home and sleep: you are becoming exhausted." "but tell me, eberstein, if i am right in what i think," pleaded montrose earnestly. "i know intuitively that i met miss enistor in some previous life and that i loved her, as i love her now when we come together for the first time in this incarnation. i had all the feeling of being her friend. oh what do i say! friend is too weak a word--of being her lover. if i understand rightly, some sin committed by me has parted us, and that sin i have to expiate before we can come together again." "that is the case. but ask me no more now. with the aid of the blessed one you must work out your salvation in fear and trembling." "indicate my enemy and i shall forgive him for alice's sake," cried the young man with impetuous generosity. "you must forgive him for his own." "how can i when i don't know why we are enemies?" "you will know when it is necessary you should know." montrose passed his hands across his brow and stood up slowly. "it is all bewildering and difficult." "very bewildering and very difficult. i answered that question earlier in the evening. we talk in a circle. to do so is a waste of time. good-night!" another question was trembling on montrose's lips, but he refrained from putting it, and with a silent hand-shake departed slowly. accustomed to come and go at will in this house, which was more a home to him than any habitation he had known, the young man descended the stairs and let himself out into the silent square. the balmy summer night was brilliant with stars, and charged with some mysterious healing influence, which soothed and relaxed his weary nerves. on all sides the great city was yet awake and alive with people, each one intent upon the realisation of his or her desire. but here, isolated from the roaring thoroughfares, the quadrangle was comparatively lonely and dark, as the passers-by were few and the lights widely scattered. the central gardens, with their trees and shrubs and turf and flowers, slept within the rusty iron railings, speaking every now and then as a wandering breeze woke the leaves to sigh and whisper. the hurrying steps of a wayfarer, the measured heavy tread of a policeman, the murmur of distant life: montrose heard these things without hearing as it were, as without seeing he stared at the silent cats gliding through the shadows. he walked along, wrapped up in his own thoughts, seeking mechanically his rooms and bed. notwithstanding his accession to considerable wealth, the fortunate youth had but slightly changed his mode of living. he enjoyed better lodgings, better clothes, more nourishing food, and was free from the obligation of compulsory work to exist. but he still lived in unfashionable bloomsbury, a quiet, inexpensive, and somewhat recluse life, not seeking to enter what is known as society. with his good looks and undeniable talents and newly acquired wealth, he would have been welcome to the gay throng who flutter in the sunshine of pleasure. but there was nothing in montrose which responded to such aimless allurements. once or twice friends had taken him to this house and that, where the butterflies gathered, and on this particular night eberstein had induced him to dine at mrs. barrast's. but entertainments of all kinds bored montrose immensely, and only the presence of alice had aided him to endure the shallow chatter of his hostess and the artificiality of his surroundings. the after-events in eberstein's room had both startled and awed him, so that he was still greatly moved by what had taken place when he reached his modest lodgings. but, as common sense told him, thinking would not help him, as his thoughts spun in a circle and always brought him back to the same point. that point was the meeting with alice and the weird feelings which contact with her personality had aroused in him. she belonged to his life in some way which he could not quite put into words, and he belonged to hers. they were together and yet apart, but what parted them it was impossible to say, as the vision had not indicated in detail the especial sin, or what had led to the commission of that sin. soon he would know more--eberstein had assured him of that. therefore it would be best to wait for the knowledge. he had been given light enough in the darkness of the path to take the next step, and that light revealed alice waiting for him to come to her. he was only too willing to do so, as the feeling that he loved her deeply grew with overwhelming swiftness. when she knew what was in his heart and he knew what was in hers, then the next step could be taken. what it might be and where it would lead to montrose could not say. however, the doctor had given him necessary instructions for the moment in the phrase "watch and pray!" to watch for the dawning love in alice and to pray that he might be worthy of such love seemed to be his task, and a very delightful task it would be. therefore montrose knelt down and prayed with all his clean heart that every possible blessing might befall the girl and that, if it was god's will, he might become her husband to cherish and protect her. then he went to bed in a peaceful frame of mind. sleep came to him almost immediately, but before his eyes closed he felt that alice was near him, and knew that in some wordless manner alice spoke to him. "we have much to learn and there is pain in the learning," she whispered, "but we are together to suffer together." "suffering does not matter," said montrose, as in a dream, "we are together!" chapter viii love's young dream after the storm comes the calm, and when trouble has endured for a season peace descends to refresh the exhausted soul. montrose had suffered a great deal during the five-and-twenty years of his present life, and it was time that he should enjoy a rest. ever since he could remember, dark clouds had enshrouded him, and with a fainting heart he had groped his way through the gloom. the meeting with eberstein had been the end of sorrow and the beginning of joy, for the doctor had bidden him raise his eyes to the hills made glorious by the rising sun. with the legacy of lady staunton the dawn had come, but only when he met alice did montrose feel that the sun was above the horizon. as by magic the darkness was swept away, and now he walked in golden sunshine, no longer alone. she was beside him, and he wondered how he could have endured life without her dear presence. for the next three weeks he was in heaven rather than on earth. of course the first desire of montrose was to share with alice the wonderful knowledge that he had acquired so strangely. but a note from eberstein prevented this. the doctor wrote that he was going abroad for a few weeks, and that in the meanwhile montrose was to tell the girl nothing of his late experiences. "woo her as an ordinary youth woos an ordinary maid," said the letter. "she is yours and you are hers, so nothing can come between you for the time being. i say for the time being, since there is an ordeal which you must face before you stand before the altar. whether you ever do stand there to take her as your wife depends upon your courage and forbearance and love. meantime keep what you have seen and what you have heard to yourself. when i return i shall explain what is necessary for you to know!" this note was delivered the first thing in the morning after montrose's weird experience, and when he called round to see eberstein he found that the doctor had already departed for paris. there was nothing left for him to do but to obey instructions. montrose did this very willingly. after all he was a man living in the world of men, and wished to make love like an ordinary person. certainly alice was an angel, and might not be satisfied with ordinary love-making, but she also was human, and appreciated the domesticity of life. montrose remembered reading in some book eberstein had lent him: "for every step you take in other planes, take two on the plane you know, since you are here to learn the lessons of this plane!" thus the young man abandoned for the moment his search after super-physical knowledge and gave himself up to the joy of being an ordinary mortal. and in one way or another he hoped to elevate a commonplace wooing to a romantic passion, but all strictly within the limitations of the physical brain. when the gods descended from olympus to follow after nymphs, they came as mere men. in a like way did montrose set about his courting of alice as the one woman in the world for him. mrs. barrast quite approved of the romance. for a time she had been rather annoyed that so handsome and rich a young man had not laid himself at her feet. but being really good-natured, if extraordinarily vain, the little woman had ceased to play the part of dog in the manger, and forwarded the aim of montrose by every means in her power. at heart she was a great match-maker like most women, and the fact that montrose possessed lady staunton's wealth made her zealous to bring about the marriage. she looked upon herself as quite a _dea ex machinâ_, and, certain that all would turn out as she wished, had already arranged how the bridesmaids should be dressed, what people ought to be asked to the wedding, what present she would give, and where the young couple should spend their honeymoon. there was no doubt that mrs. barrast, like many another frivolous person, was a great hand at counting her chickens before they were hatched. "but the dinky little things will come out of the eggs all right," she said to alice, a week after that young lady had made the acquaintance of montrose. "he's a nice boy and any one can see he's head over heels in love with you, my dear. but i wish you would dress in colours, alice. it looks so silly for an engaged girl to go about in black." "i am not engaged yet," replied miss enistor doubtfully, "and i never may be, amy. my father has to be consulted." "my dear," said mrs. barrast impressively, "he'll jump at the chance of getting the money back into the family." "there is don pablo, who wants to marry me," ventured alice anxiously. "and there's julian also," retorted the little woman. "what of that? why, i had dozens of offers before i met frederick, though why i took him i really don't know. of course, as you told me this don what's-his-name is rich and if douglas--you don't mind my calling him douglas, do you, dear?--was poor, i shouldn't advise you to throw the old thing over. but youth and good looks and money and all those nice things are better than an old man. and i am glad after all that you did not accept julian," ended mrs. barrast candidly. "he isn't rich either, and life's horrid without money. besides, i wish julian to marry a rich girl." "if he loves her." "pooh, what has love to do with marriage? what old-fashioned ideas you have, alice. i suppose you wouldn't marry douglas if you didn't love him." "certainly not," said the girl firmly. mrs. barrast made a grimace. "it's lucky you like him then, my dear. of course it's not right to marry for money only," added the butterfly, contradicting herself boldly, "but when you meet a man with a banking account try and love him as hard as ever you can." "i love douglas for himself alone. if he was a pauper i should love him." "i daresay you would. i'm sure there is madness in your family. it's a mercy douglas is well off. five thousand a year is very nice. be sure you make him take a house near ours, dear, and get a smart motor-car with one of those nice chauffeurs who look like engineers but aren't. they're lots cleaner than engineers, aren't they? and do wear a blue dress, dear: blue suits you." "no! no! i am still in mourning for my aunt." "i'm sure you needn't be. i wouldn't mourn for a horrid, lean, old thing--she was lean, you know--who didn't leave me a penny." "she left my father one thousand pounds, amy." "just enough to make him hate her. i'm sure i would if i'd been treated in that nasty way. and do make douglas take you out more. i'll come too as your chaperon, though perhaps i'm too young for the part." "i go out quite enough, amy. with my aunt in her grave----" "oh, don't talk about graves," cried mrs. barrast, rising in a hurry, "you set my nerves on edge, if nerves ever do have an edge, which i'm sure i don't know if they have. not that it matters of course. has douglas proposed?" "no. but we understand one another." "oh, my dear," said mrs. barrast in despair, "what is the use of that? i like everything to be signed, sealed, and delivered--i come of a legal family, you know, dear--to make certain. don't lose your salmon after you've hooked him. men do wriggle, you know, and if he sees another girl, he will----" "he won't," interrupted alice, with very red cheeks. "how can you talk so? i am the only girl douglas has ever loved." "oh, he told you the usual lie then," sniggered the little woman provokingly. "how can men be so silly as to think we believe them! i wish you'd ask him to make love here, alice, as i'd like to hear how he goes about it. it's absurd meeting in kensington gardens as you do. it isn't respectable." "then i am not going to be respectable this afternoon," said alice, escaping from this wasp, "for we meet there in two hours." "make him give you an engagement ring," cried mrs. barrast, who always insisted upon having the last word, "diamonds, you know, dear. if the engagement is broken you won't want to keep the ring and can always get market value for the stones. i feel it is only right that you should have some of that money. remember what i say, darling: remember what i say." alice, on her way to her own room, did not hear the end of this speech, although it was screamed out after her. she was rather offended that mrs. barrast should advise montrose's capture like an unwilling fish, as if any marriage could possibly be happy with a reluctant bridegroom. but when putting on her hat, the girl laughed at her reflection in the mirror, and excused the little woman's well-meant speech. amy really did mean well, although she had a rather brutal way of putting things. miss enistor wondered if frederick had been bargained for in this mercantile way, and thought it was very probable. mrs. barrast was exceedingly modern, and modern women are very businesslike in dealing with what was formerly called romance. the barrast marriage was a kind of mutual aid society. frederick had secured a pretty woman to do the honours of his house, and amy had captured a rich husband who supplied her with plenty of money and let her go her own frivolous way. alice decided that the shrewd butterfly had made the best bargain, and was taking full advantage of her cleverness. then she put mrs. barrast out of her head and started for the place of meeting in kensington gardens. it was a warm afternoon, but not too dazzling, as a thin veil of clouds was drawn across the sky. alice alighted from her taxi at the park gates and leisurely walked up the broad path towards the round pond. she preferred to meet douglas here rather than in the hans crescent house, because mrs. barrast would always have been interrupting. and the girl was sufficiently in love to think that two was company and three a nuisance. as a matter of fact, she acknowledged to herself she was as deeply in love with montrose as he obviously was with her, though neither of them had put the feeling into words. on this occasion, however, alice decided that it would be just as well to come to some sort of understanding, since it was probable that she would not remain much longer in town. at least she fancied so, for her father had been grumbling about the money she was spending. of course she had only known douglas for seven days, and it was rather early to fall in love with him. but she felt convinced that in previous lives she had loved the young man, and that the present wooing was only the continuation of one interrupted in the distant past. what had interrupted it she could not say, but this time she was determined to bring it to a head, and learn for certain if douglas felt towards her as she felt towards him. if glances and attentions went for anything, he assuredly did, but modesty or nervousness apparently prevented his plain speaking. expecting at any minute to be summoned back to the gloom of tremore, alice felt that she could not go away without knowing what montrose's feelings were. and if he really did love her to the extent of making her his wife, she gratefully recognised that she would have some one beside her to resist the pressure put upon her by don pablo and her father. on arriving at the tree under which she usually met her lover, she was surprised not to find him waiting for her. his absence piqued her, especially as she was late, for he certainly should have been watching for her arrival with his heart in his eyes. with a pout she sat down on one of the two green chairs and stared unseeingly at the many children playing about the grass and sailing toy ships on the round pond. what would her father say if he knew that she was meeting montrose, and now loved him to the extent of thwarting enistor's darling project of uniting her to narvaez. poor ignorant girl! she little knew that don pablo by his black arts was keeping enistor advised of all that was taking place, and that the two men were calmly watching her innocent luring of the fly into the web. eberstein could have warned her of this infernal espionage, but he was absent, and neither alice nor her lover had any knowledge how to guard themselves. they were even ignorant that protection was necessary, and it was only when the worst was at an end that they learned how the guardianship of the master had been withdrawn for the time being. the children had to learn to walk alone in their own strength and by their own will. therefore, in the garden of eden represented by kensington gardens, did they lie open to the assault of the serpent in the person of don pablo. but their ignorance and innocence and natural leanings towards the good baffled the black magic of the evil creature for the moment. "a penny for your thoughts," said montrose suddenly, and alice raised her eyes to find that he had slipped silently into the chair placed a trifle behind that on which she was seated. "they are only worth a halfpenny," she retorted rebukingly. "i was thinking how little you must care for my company when you are so late!" "i have been hiding behind yonder tree ever since you arrived," explained montrose, laughing, "and for quite an hour i have been waiting." alice laughed also. the boyishness of his action appealed to her. "but we are too old to play at peep boo like babies," she said, shaking her head with a would-be attempt at primness which was quite a failure. "we are not old," denied montrose, placing his chair in line with hers. "we are young: we shall always be young, for the gods love us. as to babies, look into my eyes and you will see yourself as a baby." but alice would not look, and the colour came to her cheeks. "there was a girl at school who talked of babies in the eyes. it was amusing to hear her talk, but rather silly." "the silly things are the serious things of life at this moment." "how do you explain that epigram, mr. montrose?" "do epigrams require explanations?" "this one does, i fancy." "oh, no, it doesn't. you must guess that the explanation lies in the words i used. 'at this moment,' i said." "why this moment rather than others, mr. montrose?" the young man drew back rather disappointed. "no. i see you don't understand, miss enistor, or you would not call me mr. montrose." "you call me miss enistor!" replied alice, wilfully dense. for the sake of beating her with her own weapons, he answered in kind. "naturally i do. i am a very polite person. but i daresay, in other lives, in other climes, and when we were clothed in other bodies, i called you chloe, or octavia, or isabeau, or edith." "greek, roman, french, and anglo-saxon," commented alice, amused; "you seem to have settled the countries we lived in. i suppose i called you damon, or marcus, or jehan, or harold--that is, supposing we were together in those days in those places." "we have always been together," said douglas decisively. "i am quite sure." "have you any proof?" "only the proof of my own feelings. i am not clairvoyant to the extent of remembering my former incarnations, nor can i--as some can--consciously leave my physical body at will and return to it with a recollection of what i have seen. now you are more advanced." "indeed, i am not. i have learned much from my father, who knows a great deal about such psychic matters. but i have never been properly instructed and my knowledge is very limited." "but you believe in the doctrine of reincarnation?" urged montrose eagerly. "of course. it is a most sensible doctrine to believe, and explains nearly everything in a common-sense way. but i cannot prove my belief." "there is no need to prove it to me," said montrose, thinking of his vision, "for i know beyond all question that we have lived and loved before." "yes," assented the girl dreamily, "i knew you the moment you entered mrs. barrast's drawing-room." the young man glanced round, and, seeing that they were more or less sheltered from observation, gently took her hand. she did not remove it, although her whole body thrilled to the touch. "you knew me as what?" asked montrose. "i can't say more than that i knew you as a familiar friend." "so cold a word," pleaded the other softly. "what other word can i use to you when we have only known each other for a single week?" "that is in this life. in other existences we knew each other for years." alice looked down timidly. "it--is--probable," she breathed. "then why not take up the new life at the point where the old one left off?" "we don't know how it left off, mr. montrose." "no. but assuredly it did at a point where you called me by my then christian name--alice." her heart fluttered as he spoke thus intimately. "perhaps we were not christians," she said, rather embarrassed. "ah!" he dropped her hand, "you are fencing. i merely spoke in the style of to-day to illustrate my point." "now you are angry!" "i never could be angry with you; only you will not understand." "perhaps i do," said alice, with a whimsical smile. "if so, why aren't you plain with me?" said montrose, ruffled. the mothering instinct, which makes every woman see in every man a child to be soothed and petted, rose within her. "let us slap the bad, naughty table that has hurt baby," she said demurely, and montrose looked up to see the laughter in her eyes. "you little witch!" he caught her hand again and this time so roughly that she winced at the delicious pain. "you know quite well what i mean." "i do--douglas!" "oh!" he leaned towards her so violently that she swung aside in alarm. "the eyes of europe are on us," she said hastily, indicating the throng of children and nursemaids and grown-up people round the pond and on the paths and lying on the grass. "bother the eyes of europe." but he saw that she was right and he did not dare proclaim his love by taking her in his arms. it was rather a poor thing to content himself with squeezing her hand. but he did, and so hard that she uttered an exclamation. "mr. montrose, you are hurting me." "am i? poor hand! i wish i could kiss it!" with a swift look round, he managed to do so. "there--alice. don't you dare to call me anything but douglas." "i believe you wish to take me by storm," she pouted, not ill-pleased. "what! capture my own city?" "your own city? what do you mean?" "i mean that i dwell in your heart. that city is mine." "how conceited you are." "indeed, i am not. you know quite well that i am only speaking the truth. i loved you in the past and i love you now. all preliminaries of love were gone through ages ago. why fence, as if we now meet for the first time? when i saw you in mrs. barrast's drawing-room i said, 'she is mine!' when you saw me you said, 'i am his'----" "i'm sure i didn't," interrupted alice hastily. "you thought it, though." "i shan't tell you." "there is no need for you to do so. oh, my dear," he went on entreatingly, "is there so much love in the world that you and i can afford to throw what we possess away? all my life i have been lonely: all my life i have wanted to meet you, to adore you, to----" "how could you when you didn't know that i existed?" "fencing again. as if you didn't know that spirit is everything and form is nothing. we have been apart on earth until last week; but we have always been together in higher worlds, although neither you nor i can remember our companionship." alice laughed in a rather anxious manner. "any one listening to us would be certain both of us were insane." "i daresay. but as no one is listening, it doesn't matter. for the convenience of a world that doesn't understand such things, let us behave in a conventional manner. i shall visit at mrs. barrast's and court you in the approved style. in due time i shall write and ask your father if i may make you my wife. meanwhile i want your assurance that you love me and have always loved me in the past." "but a single week----" "time doesn't matter. you know it doesn't. you love me, alice?" "yes!" she saw that the time for fencing was ended. "i love you, douglas!" he kissed her hand again, then, aware that the place was too public for him to take her in his arms, suppressed his feelings. side by side they sat in a stiff kind of way, while each longed for demonstrations which the situation forbade. it was decidedly uncomfortable to be thus conventional. but it was just as well that they thus came to an understanding in the eye of the sun, as the self-control was quite an education. "one would think we were a couple of old married people, sitting side by side in this stiff manner," said montrose with a vexed laugh. "i should like to be a sabine and carry you away by force." "perhaps you will have to do so," said alice, thinking of don pablo. "my father will never consent to my becoming your wife." montrose looked amazed and anxious. "why not? there is nothing against my character and position," he said rapidly, "and as i have inherited lady staunton's money, your father will be glad that i should bring it into the enistor family again by making you my wife." "i don't think my father cares anything about the money," said alice, ignorant of her parent's true feelings. "he wants me to marry don pablo." "a spaniard. who is he?" "a spaniard, as you have said. he is my father's greatest friend." "young and handsome and wealthy?" "wealthy, certainly. but very ugly, just like a mummy, and as old as the hills--older, i believe. he must be eighty." "then why does your father wish you to marry him?" "because don pablo is rich." "well, i am rich also. five thousand a year is riches." "don pablo has more, i fancy." "i don't care what he has. he hasn't got you for a wife and he never will have. you will marry me and no one else." "yes, i promise you that, douglas. but there will be trouble." "pooh!" montrose laughed joyously. "i'd face a universe of trouble if you were the prize to be obtained by enduring it. besides, eberstein says that we belong to one another." "how does he know?" "he knows many things that are strange and true. when he comes back he will explain. he promised to do so. meantime, all we have to do is to be true to one another. we are engaged. say we are engaged, alice." "yes. we are engaged. i shall marry no one but you." "hurrah! then we shall be happy for ever and ever----" "amen," said the girl thankfully. "all the same, i fear don pablo." montrose tucked her arm within his own. "we are together," he said. "unity is strength. you understand, dear!" and alice did understand, smiling happily. "it is the birthday of the soul," she said; "of your soul and mine, which are one." chapter ix the warning mindful that a premature engagement might lead to gossip, montrose and his beloved acted with great discretion. they gave vent to their ardent feelings in private, and behaved prudently in public. certainly the young man paid many visits to mrs. barrast's house, and was markedly attentive to her visitor. but it was natural that a bachelor should admire a pretty maid, so people merely remarked indulgently that evidently montrose was falling in love with miss enistor. they little knew that the inevitable had already happened, and in a scandalously short space of time. mrs. barrast, with a shrewdness which did her credit, guessed that the couple understood one another better than they would admit; but even she did not guess how far matters had gone. she would have been annoyed had she really known the truth, not because of the private engagement, but for the simple reason that she had not been admitted into the confidence of the lovers. as it was, all she saw led her to believe that montrose was conventionally approaching her guest with a view to marriage, and quite approved of his intentions. therefore she welcomed him to the house, and made use of him and his money. it was only right, she thought, that he should pay for her kindness in forwarding his aims. and the payment took the form of mrs. barrast plundering montrose on all and every occasion. frederick supplied her with ample funds for her frivolity, but mrs. barrast always wanted more than she could reasonably obtain, and cleverly got what she desired from douglas. as both lovers were in deep mourning for lady staunton, the aunt of one and the benefactress of the other, they did not take much part in the gaieties of the waning season. all the same, mrs. barrast made montrose give her concert tickets and boxes at theatres, which she used freely for herself and her friends. and as on these occasions she usually left alice to entertain the donor in the hans crescent house, the young man was quite willing to be lavish in this direction. indeed, he was in others also, for he supplied the butterfly with flowers and scent and gloves and similar trifles, which every woman likes to have and which no woman likes to pay for. alice did not object at the outset to this generosity, as it was necessary to keep mrs. barrast in a good temper; but in the end she protested against such wholesale robbery. "you will ruin mr. montrose if you take everything he gives you," she said to amy, two weeks after that momentous agreement in kensington gardens. "oh, nonsense!" replied mrs. barrast airily. "the man has got more money than he knows what to do with. it's a man's duty to be agreeable. but of course, dear, if you are jealous----" "i--jealous?" mrs. barrast shrugged her elegant shoulders. "well, my dear, it looks like it, you know. you needn't be if you are, i'm sure, for i can't marry him, and i have no intention of running away with the dear thing." "he wouldn't run away with you if you wanted to," said alice crossly, and could have bitten out her tongue for the speech. "really!" mrs. barrast tittered significantly. "has it gone as far as that?" "what do you mean?" alice grew red. "my dear! you are a woman talking to a woman, so there is no need for you to try and deceive me. you want to marry this charming young fellow!" "i don't admit that, amy." "whether you admit it or deny it, what i state is the case." "you have no right to say so. i like mr. montrose. i admire him!" "words! words! words! you love him. look at yourself in the glass, my dear. i think your colour tells the truth." "what if it does?" "ah! then you admit that i am right?" alice saw that it was useless to fence with mrs. barrast, who was much too clever to be deceived and far too dangerous to be tampered with. "yes! i am in love with--mr. montrose." "why not say with douglas?" tittered the little woman. "douglas, if it pleases you." "my dear, the question is if it pleases _you_ and--him. am i blind?" asked mrs. barrast dramatically. "am i a fool? do you think that during the past three weeks i have left you and that nice boy together without guessing the truth ages and ages ago? i never ask for tickets. he gives them to me to get me out of the way, which"--ended the butterfly justly--"is not complimentary to me." "i don't mind mr.--well then, douglas, giving you boxes at the theatres," said alice petulantly; "but why take flowers and gloves and----" "because i want such things," retorted mrs. barrast coolly. "if you are foolish enough not to take presents from him, i don't see why i should not. but i am glad that we have come to an understanding, dear, as i wish to know if you are in earnest, or if you are merely flirting." "and if i am flirting?" "then i think it's very horrid of you. he has a heart and hearts can be broken. i don't flirt myself," said mrs. barrast, uttering the lie with the greatest composure, "but if you are making a fool of that nice boy i shall take him off your hands and be a--a--well, a mother to him." alice laughed outright. "you are much too young and pretty to be a mother to any one, amy!" "that's right. taunt me because i haven't any children. frederick is always complaining, as if it was my fault, which i'm sure it isn't. but as to this flirting----" "it isn't flirting. douglas and i understand one another." "really. how sly you are! has he said anything?" "all that i wished him to say." "then he has proposed?" "yes!" alice contented herself with the affirmative and did not trouble to give the date of the proposal. mrs. barrast understood that it had taken place within the last day or so, and even that displeased her. "it's quite immoral for him to be so hasty," she exclaimed, because the idea of montrose adoring alice and not herself was annoying and hurt her vanity. the girl smiled, wondering what her hostess would say if she knew that the proposal had been made three weeks previously. "he's in love, you see!" "there is sense in all things, my dear. he has only known you a month." "of course! but love at first sight----" "i don't believe in such a thing." "oh, amy, what about romeo and juliet?" "they are only things in a play. i don't think juliet was at all respectable, and if she had lived in london instead of verona, i should never have allowed her to visit me. mr. montrose should have behaved himself properly." "what do you call proper behaviour on his part?" "well, he should have spoken to me first!" "douglas's idea of propriety differs from yours, amy. he thought it was best to tell my father that he wished to marry me, before speaking to you." "he could do no less," snapped mrs. barrast, still ruffled. "has he written to mr. enistor?" "yes. two days ago; but he has not yet received an answer. nor have i, for i wrote to my father at the same time, asking him to consent to our engagement." "oh, he'll consent quick enough--your father, that is," sniffed the little woman. "he owes me a great deal for bringing back that lost money to the family. if he is nice--i suppose he _is_ nice, though julian doesn't like him at all--i expect he'll give me a bracelet, or a muff-chain, or a----" "do you really mean that?" interrupted alice, opening her eyes very wide. "of course! why shouldn't i mean what i say?" "how rapacious you are, amy." "what a nasty word when i'm only sensible. what is the use of men if they don't give us things?" "douglas will give you all you want, dear. after all, you brought us together." this diplomatic remark cleared the air and banished the frown from mrs. barrast's small-featured face. "of course i did. i saw that you two were meant for each other the moment you set eyes on one another. i advised you to get back your aunt's money by marriage, didn't i?" "you certainly did," admitted miss enistor dryly, not thinking it necessary to explain that she loved montrose for himself alone. "what you said has come true, amy. douglas desires to make me his wife, if my father consents." "oh, bother your father," cried mrs. barrast vigorously. "what does his consent matter when you have hooked a rich man?" "don't be vulgar, amy!" said alice, wincing. "and don't be romantic. you can't deceive me. mr. montrose is rich." "i would marry him without a sixpence." "so you will," rejoined mrs. barrast caustically. "he has the sixpence, remember. i am glad, dear: you have played your cards well. frederick will be pleased. he likes mr. montrose immensely, and you a great deal." "i am glad he does," said alice soberly, "but don't say anything until we hear from my father, amy!" it was with some difficulty that miss enistor induced the little woman to be silent, for mrs. barrast was so immensely pleased with what she took to be her own cleverness in bringing the matter to a favourable issue that she wanted to trumpet the news all over the place. there was no word now of impropriety or hasty wooing, for alice let the butterfly think that the match was quite of her own making, and the butterfly spread sheltering wings over the happy pair. she did not tell frederick, and as frederick was wholly occupied with politics he did not see what was going on under his very nose. but with many mysterious becks and smiles and significant looks, the little woman managed to intimate that she was the fairy godmother of these particular lovers, whose romance was rapidly progressing towards fulfilment. thus she made everything safe in a respectable way for montrose to be constantly invited to dinner, and to be left alone with alice more frequently than would have met with public approval had he not been courting. the young man's gratitude showed itself substantially and took the form of several pieces of jewellery, which the guardian angel was pleased to accept. everything went as merry as a marriage bell, pending the reply of enistor to montrose's letter. that came four days after alice had remonstrated with mrs. barrast for her shameless looting. mr. enistor had written not only to montrose but to his daughter with regard to the proposal, and when the two came together on this particular evening, they let one another know immediately that the fatal missives had been received. luckily mrs. barrast, with a merry party, had gone to the empire music hall and would not return until late. montrose, as usual, had provided the box, purposely having done so to rid himself of an inconvenient third. frederick was at the house, so he could not interfere, and douglas had alice all to himself in the large drawing-room. mrs. barrast, for the sake of propriety, had made him promise to await her return and have supper. therefore everything was nicely arranged, and when quite alone, the lovers sat together on the sofa and looked into one another's eyes. "now," said alice breathlessly, "the letters!" "not just yet," replied montrose, taking her in his arms, "remember i have not seen you for forty-eight hours!" "oh, you foolish boy!" alice had some excuse for calling him so, although she liked the foolishness he displayed immensely. he dropped on his knees, holding her waist in his arms, and said all manner of delightful things, only interrupting his speeches to kiss her again and again and again. what he babbled need not be reported, as the talk of lovers, however pleasing to themselves, is extraordinarily silly when repeated to others. but the splendid glamour of love was over this pair, and what douglas said sounded sublimely sensible to the girl, while the looks of alice were those of a goddess to her adorer. yet montrose was a common-sense young man, and miss enistor only a tolerably pretty girl. the misleading passion of love excused each regarding the other as a divinity. they certainly did so and were as foolishly happy as antony and cleopatra were in their day of power. and like those famous lovers they would have regarded the world as well lost for love. "but really!" cried alice at last, recovering her reason first, which was natural since she was a woman, "we must be sensible." "i think we are very sensible indeed." "other people would not think so." "why trouble about other people?" replied montrose, reluctantly getting on his feet. "there are no other people. you and i are alone in the world." "indeed, i think we shall be unless my father consents," sighed miss enistor. "not that there will be any loneliness with you beside me," she added. "darling!" then another kiss and embrace before settling down to more prosaic conversation. "tell me, dear, what does he say to you?" "much the same as he writes to you, douglas, i expect." alice took the letter from her pocket. "he is not angry as i expected he would be, and says nothing about don pablo. all he desires--so he says--is my happiness, and if he approves of you he is quite willing that we should marry." "if he approves of me," echoed montrose, reading the paternal letter over alice's shoulder, "quite so. but suppose he doesn't approve?" "don't try to cross the bridge until you come to it, douglas. why shouldn't my father approve, now that he evidently has given up his idea of my marrying don pablo? has my father asked you down to tremore?" "yes!" said montrose, producing his letter in turn, "how clever of you to guess that, dearest." "i did not guess it, as you might have seen if you read my father's letter properly," said alice quickly. "he says that he has asked you down, or intends to ask you down. i don't know which." "oh, here is the invitation," remarked the young man, waving his letter. "mr. enistor says that before he can consent to place your future in my hands he must become well acquainted with me. he invites me to tremore for a visit of one month. in four weeks he hopes to give his decision." alice disconsolately replaced her epistle in her pocket and watched her lover put away his communication. "that doesn't sound very promising." "oh, but i think it does," said montrose hopefully. "i don't see what else he could say if he entertains at all the idea of my marrying you. it is only natural that he should wish to know what kind of a husband i am likely to be to his adored daughter." "oh!" said alice ironically, "does my father call me that?" "twice he calls you that in his letter." "he doesn't mean it," the girl assured montrose in a troubled way; "my father and i endure one another's society, but little love exists between us. the fault isn't mine, douglas, as i was willing enough to love him when i came from school. but father has always kept me at arm's length, and hitherto my life has been loveless--save for julian." "julian!" there was a jealous note in the young man's voice. "that is the name of mrs. barrast's brother, is it not?" "yes. i call him julian and he calls me alice." "confound his impudence!" fumed montrose angrily. "no impudence at all, douglas. julian is my very good friend: nothing more, i assure you. but if i had not met you, and if my father had insisted upon my becoming don pablo's wife, i should have married julian." "oh, alice," in a tone of deep reproach, "do you love him and not me?" "no. i respect him. if i loved him you would not now be sitting beside me." still montrose was not satisfied. "is he good-looking?" "very; in a large stolid anglo-saxon way. he's an artist, but i don't think one would call him clever except as a painter of pictures." "i see that you don't love him," said douglas, his brow clearing; "but does hardwick--that is his name, isn't it?--love you?" "no," rejoined alice promptly, "he thought that he did, but he really does not in the way a woman wants to be loved. he proposed and i rejected him on those grounds. now he understands that i am right, and we have settled to be great friends." "all the same you said you would have married him if----" "if my father had insisted on my becoming the wife of don pablo," interrupted alice swiftly. "can't you understand, douglas? i detest this spaniard, who is such a friend of my father, and of two evils i was prepared to choose the lesser. i did not want to marry julian any more than i wanted to marry don pablo. but julian is at least human, so----" "isn't don pablo human?" asked montrose, interrupting in his turn. "i don't believe he is," said alice thoughtfully, "there is something dreadfully wicked about him. i can't explain, but when you meet him you will in some way guess my meaning." "humph! i shall certainly accept your father's invitation both to see this spaniard and hardwick also." "and you understand my position?" urged alice anxiously. "yes. i think i do. all the same i want you to assure me positively that you love no one else but me." "there is no need to tell you what you already know," returned the girl in a calm positive way. "we are made for one another!" "darling!" he caught her in his arms, "i know. but i hope your father will think as we do." "he means well," said miss enistor with a sigh of relief, "or he would not ask you down to tremore." it was at this interesting point in their interview that the lovers were interrupted. the footman opened the door to announce dr. eberstein, and when that gentleman entered the room the servant promptly retired. montrose came forward with a look of amazed inquiry, which was reflected on the face of alice. both the young people were astonished by the unexpected appearance of the doctor. "i thought you were still in paris, eberstein," cried douglas, as his friend shook hands with both. "i arrived in london to-day!" "why didn't you let me know?" "there was no need to. it was necessary that you should quite understand one another before i came on the scene." eberstein looked from one flushed face to the other with a smile. "you do understand, i see." "we are engaged," blurted out montrose awkwardly. "then that means an understanding," said the doctor cheerfully, with a benevolent look in his grey eyes. "i hope it means also mutual trust." "i am quite sure it does," cried alice vehemently, "nothing douglas could say or do would ever make me doubt him." "and i would believe in alice if all the world were against her," said the young man decisively. "that is good hearing," observed the doctor pleasantly, "union is strength." "every one knows that, don't they, doctor?" said miss enistor rather pertly. "perhaps," he replied, "but few practise it. you wonder why i have come here to-night. it is because you both need me. all seems to be sunshine at the present moment. you love one another devotedly: you think that mr. enistor is well disposed towards your engagement----" "oh!" interrupted alice, with a frightened look in her eyes. "how do you know that my father is aware of our engagement?" "the letters you received to-day----" this time montrose interrupted, and there was a note of awe in his voice. "i believe you know everything, eberstein." "i know that you are invited down to cornwall, so that mr. enistor may judge if you are the man he would choose to be his son-in-law." "but how do you know?" said alice, startled. "you make me afraid!" eberstein took her hand and gazed directly into her eyes. "are you sure that i make you afraid?" he asked gently. "why, no!" alice felt the momentary fear vanish in an unaccountable way. "and you trust me even though you have known me such a short time? remember, you have only met me once, miss enistor." he loosened his soft, reassuring grasp and leaned back in his chair. "i do trust you," said the girl promptly, "you have been kind to douglas." "is that the sole reason?" alice stared at him doubtfully. "it is the only reason i can give. no one but a good man and a kind friend would have saved douglas's life as you did." "perhaps no, perhaps yes," said the doctor enigmatically, "but i advised our friend here to keep lady staunton's money. my interest in him may not be so philanthropic as you imagine it to be." "doctor!" said montrose indignantly, "how can you talk so?" "hush!" eberstein threw up his hand. "i want miss enistor to speak." "what can i say but that i trust you? i am sure there is some good reason why douglas should keep my aunt's money. you would not have advised him to keep it otherwise." "but if your father pointed out that he should have enjoyed the fortune and that i wish montrose to keep it so that i can make use of the money through him? what then?" "still i must believe in you and trust you," persisted alice steadily. "my father does not want the fortune." eberstein smiled slightly. "oh, i assure you he does not. he has said nothing about it. as to doubting you, doctor, he does not know you." "he will some day and then he may doubt me. remember when he does and tries to turn you against me that i have foretold the possibility of such a warning. you say you will trust me. good! i accept the assurance. montrose?" "i believe in you now as i always have done," said the young man eagerly. "i don't understand why you are talking in this way, though." "you don't understand many things at present," said eberstein dryly; "when you do, pain will come with the knowledge. necessary pain. go to cornwall and meet mr. enistor. while the sun still shines you will not see me. but when dark clouds obscure the light, then i shall be at your side." "you will come to cornwall?" asked alice quickly. "when the need arises." "will it arise?" eberstein looked from one to the other quietly. "yes! the need will arise." "what need?" demanded montrose, bewildered. "enough for the day is the evil thereof," said eberstein serenely, "and that also applies to the good. all is well with you as yet, so enjoy the passing moment and draw from peace the necessary strength for conflict. gold must be refined in the fire, and you must both be cast into the furnace. yet be not afraid. the same god who saved shadrach, meshach and abednego will save you. you are neither of you afraid," he ended positively. arm in arm the lovers stood and they glanced at one another as the doctor spoke. "we are not afraid," they declared simultaneously, and spoke the truth. "behold then," said eberstein solemnly, "how great is love which can cast out fear!" and over them he made the holy sign. chapter x in cornwall it was august when alice returned home. as soon as her father learned that she had become engaged to montrose, he sent for her. now that the mouse had entered the trap there was no need for the girl to remain in london and spend money. mrs. barrast was sorry to lose the companionship of miss enistor, not only because she liked her as much as one of her shallow nature could like any one, but for a more selfish reason. with alice departed montrose, and although he did not go immediately down to cornwall, he scarcely came near the house in hans crescent. thus mrs. barrast was deprived of the many presents which she loved to receive. however, she had done very well, and made the best of her loss, since the girl's visit, because of montrose's love-making, had not been unprofitable to her. mrs. barrast was very affectionate when alice departed, and made her promise to return when she became mrs. douglas montrose. alice readily consented, for though amy was vain and selfish, yet the fact that the love-romance had taken place beneath her roof made the girl regard her as a most excellent friend. all the same she was not sorry to return to cornwall, as she was weary of the frivolous london life. in the railway train alice became quite depressed. she was coming back to dreary tremore, to her father's uncongenial society, and perhaps to the unpleasant attentions of don pablo. but on this latter point she was reassured by her father's letter. although he had not quite consented to the marriage with montrose, and would not consent until he had seen the young man, yet, in the face of his half-approval, he certainly would not allow her to be troubled by don pablo. certainly the spaniard had great influence with the squire of polwellin, and might not be inclined to surrender the girl whom he desired to make his wife. but douglas, as alice reflected, would soon be on the spot, and he would deal with narvaez, if the old man became troublesome. on the whole, therefore, even though matters were a trifle unsettled, alice concluded that the new life would be better than the old. at all events she would not be quite so lonely, and that was something. of course dr. eberstein had predicted trouble, but also he had agreed to come down when the trouble arrived. this comforted the girl not a little, as she had the greatest confidence in montrose's friend. why, she could scarcely say, as she knew next to nothing about him. but his mere look, let alone the touch of his hand, was enough to make her feel strangely brave and happy. if don pablo was all evil, dr. eberstein was all good. yet why one should be this and the other that, alice could not tell. doubtless, as douglas had suggested, eberstein could have enlightened both on this point. but he had not done so, and beyond warning them that they could count upon his help in the trouble which was surely coming, he had said very little. therefore, these two young people had to walk by faith, and very bravely did so. at perchton, which was the nearest station to polwellin, alice quite expected to find her father waiting for her, since, little as he loved her, he must surely be anxious to see how she looked after her long absence. but mr. enistor was not on the platform, and alice with a rather forlorn feeling alighted from her compartment. in london she had grown accustomed to love and attention, so the neglect of the present moment brought on her depression again. but that vanished in a trice when a strong hand took the small bag she was carrying, and a strong voice sounded in her ears. "here you are at last," said julian brightly. "i have been waiting for nearly an hour, alice." "oh, julian!" she took his hand, to press it warmly. "i am so glad you are here. i was feeling quite dismal because father has not come to meet me." "i thought you would be. yesterday i asked him if he intended to come to perchton, but as he said that he had no time i came in his stead." "and left your painting. how good of you." "not at all. we are brother and sister, are we not?" "i don't think many brothers would take so much trouble to be kind to their sisters," said alice brightly. "did father send the carriage?" "no. one of the horses is laid up. but a friend of mine has a motor, so i made him lend it to take you to tremore. where is your baggage?" "oh, i must look for it in the van and get a porter and----" "you'll do nothing of the sort," interrupted hardwick quickly, "go and sit in the motor; there it is. i can see to your boxes. how many?" "two large and one small," said alice, and gladly settled herself in the very comfortable vehicle, while julian went back into the station. shortly he returned with a porter and the boxes were duly placed on the motor. julian stepped in beside the girl, and a word to the chauffeur sent the splendid machine humming down the narrow street like a giant bee. then the two had time to look at one another, and julian approved of the girl's appearance. love had made her blossom like a rose. she was less ethereal than she had been, and the sad look on her delicate face had vanished. also, as mrs. barrast had attended to her frocks, and had introduced her to madame coralie, the girl was singularly smart and attractive as regards clothes. a smile was on julian's face as he looked at her. "you went away a duckling and you return a swan," he said. "oh, what a doubtful compliment," said alice gaily; "am i then, or rather was i, an ugly duckling?" "no, my dear, you were never an _ugly_ duckling, but what i mean is that you have turned from a fairy into a pretty nymph." "that is better," said miss enistor graciously, as the motor whizzed out of the town and began to climb the long winding road to the moors. "you are improving, julian. but you don't ask me how i have enjoyed myself." "there is no need. your appearance speaks for you." alice laughed. "do you think that my looks are due simply to a short season of pleasure in london?" "well, not exactly," rejoined hardwick in his stolid way; "in fact, seeing that you have been staying with amy, i expected you to look more fagged than you do. amy makes a toil of pleasure and is certainly a very wearing woman to live with." "she is a dear," said miss enistor warmly, "and has been most kind. but you are right about her feverish pursuit of pleasure," she said, with an after-thought. "amy never rests!" "and never lets any one else rest, which is worse," said julian grimly; he looked at her sideways. "yes! mere london pleasure cannot account for your happy looks. well, let me know who he is!" "let you know who he is?" repeated alice, blushing and looking prettier than ever, "do you mean----" "i think you know what i mean. you are in love at last." like a woman alice did not reply directly to the remark. "are you very angry, julian?" she asked, laying a timid hand on his arm. "my dear, i am not angry at all. we are brother and sister, you know. long ago i discovered that you were right as to my proposal and i was wrong. all that i could do for you was to accept the situation of your future husband if don pablo insisted upon marrying you. but i presume i can now resign that position," ended hardwick gravely. "he is called douglas montrose," said alice, still evasive. "a very pretty name for prince charming. yes, your father mentioned to me that the young man had written to him, and he also mentioned that montrose is the fortunate person who has inherited lady staunton's money. so amy got her own way, as i knew she would. an inveterate matchmaker is amy." alice opened her eyes widely. "did you guess then?" "not so much guess as know," replied hardwick composedly. "amy wrote about her desire that you should become mrs. montrose." "and you?" "i was pleased, of course. amy told me how deeply you loved the man." "she could not tell that for certain," pouted alice doubtfully. "i am not so sure of that. women are proverbially clever and shrewd in anything that has to do with love-making. however, it seems she was right: your bright eyes and crimson cheeks tell me as much." "i may as well confess that i love douglas," admitted alice boldly, "and he loves me. already we have asked father's consent to our marriage." "he will give it without doubt, alice. it is a happy way of getting back the lost money." "oh the money! the money!" she cried petulantly; "you talk just as amy talks, julian. as if i cared for money. i love douglas, and if he were a pauper i would marry him. and my father has not jumped at the chance of getting back the money, as you seem to think. he won't say yes and he won't say no." "he must say something," remarked julian, with a shrug. "nothing. he refuses to give his decision until he knows more about douglas." hardwick nodded. "that is natural and sensible. so the young man is coming to tremore to be put through his paces?" "how clever of you to guess that. he is--in a few days. oh, how anxious i feel, julian. so much depends upon my father." "he will consent, i am sure, alice. with such a disposition as you have, you could choose no one but a really good man for your husband." alice laughed a trifle bitterly, which was strange considering her prospects and happy state of mind. "goodness or badness matter very little when one is in love, julian. and they do not matter at all to my father so long as i marry a rich man. it is a good thing for me that douglas has plenty of money, for only in that way will things run smoothly for both of us. otherwise i feel certain that my father would still insist upon my marrying don pablo." "humph!" said hardwick meditatively. "the question is, 'would don pablo marry you?' my dear girl." "he is supposed to be in love with me," said alice, puzzled. "you know how he has bothered me, julian." "oh, yes, i know. but there is rose penwin, you know, that fisherman's pretty daughter." alice turned to look at him in astonishment. "what about her?" "señor narvaez has taken an unaccountable admiration for her since you departed for london." "unaccountable!" miss enistor's lip curled. "there is nothing unaccountable in any man admiring a pretty girl, and rose is more than pretty!" "she is," said hardwick calmly. "pretty is not the word to apply to a beautiful and stately woman such as rose penwin is." "brunhild or brynhild--what do you call that norse goddess you said you so admired until you met me?" "i never admired any norse goddess," said hardwick, laughing. "i simply quoted brynhild as a type. yes, rose penwin is of that type, but i am not in love with her." "don pablo is?" "so i am given to understand from village gossip. you know i chatter frequently to the fishermen and their wives. well, don pablo has been paying great attention to rose; giving her presents and----" "does she accept his attentions?" interrupted miss enistor, astonished. "yes and no. she does in a way, as she wants to make job trevel jealous!" "job trevel," said alice thoughtfully; "to be sure! he is my foster-brother, julian, as i told you how dame trevel brought me up. but i thought it was understood that rose was to marry job." "too thoroughly understood," said julian dryly. "it seems that job is so certain of rose that he does not trouble to pay her those pretty attentions which a lover should. thus, to make him jealous, rose pretends to accept the attentions of don pablo." "that old mummy. he can't even feel love." "no! i agree with you there, and i am puzzled to know what his game is. why should an old man of eighty run after a girl of nineteen?" "he ran after me and bothered me enough, as you know," said alice in a thoughtful manner. "he must be mad. yet i do not think a madman would or could exercise such an influence over my father. however, job can scarcely be jealous of señor narvaez, who might be rose's great-grandfather." "he is jealous, however. don pablo is wealthy and rose likes pretty things, you know. she may not love the old reprobate: she could not. all the same the prospect of unlimited money----" "oh, nonsense!" broke in alice vigorously, "she would not be so wicked. if i see anything of her treating job badly i shall speak to her. i am very fond of my foster-brother even though he has a bad temper." "all the worse for don pablo if he has," said hardwick significantly. "rose is playing with fire. love on one hand, wealth on the other: which will she choose, do you think? i assure you, alice, that there are the elements of a tragedy in these things." "it may be all imagination on your part," said the girl after a pause, "and in any case, if don pablo now admires rose, he will leave me alone, and my father will have no excuse to forbid my marrying douglas." julian wrinkled his brow disapprovingly. "isn't that a selfish way of looking at the matter?" "it is! it is!" acknowledged alice with sudden compunction. "love does make one selfish, julian." "yet love should have the opposite effect, my dear girl. you usually have such a high standard that it seems strange you should fall short of it in this way. but you have been with amy, and although she is my own sister, even a short time in her company does harm. she is not bad--i don't mean that, alice: but amy is excessively selfish and she seems to have contaminated you in some way." alice grew scarlet, as never before had julian dared to speak to her in this reproving style. yet she felt that he was right, and took no offence. "i am glad you have said what you have said, julian. i should not have spoken as i did. it was narrow and selfish, as you say. i must think of others even if love for douglas fills my heart. i shall see dame trevel and job and in some way i shall learn the truth. you may be sure that i shall do what i can to put matters right between rose and job." hardwick patted her hand. "that is spoken like the trump you are, alice, my dear. i knew that you were not thinking of what you were saying. as you are in love, there is some excuse----" "no! no! don't weaken your good advice, julian. there is no excuse for one to fall short of one's standard. your warning has done me good. you are a dear kind boy, and if i had not met douglas----" "you would have loved me," ended hardwick, smiling. "no, dear, don't deceive yourself. if we had married we should have been comrades, but never man and wife in the true spiritual sense. the marriage made in heaven is the only true marriage. you said something of that sort when you refused me. how entirely right you were, alice!" the girl looked at him with a whimsical look in her eyes and wondered at his simplicity. "what a child you are, julian. nine women out of ten would take offence at such a cool assurance that your love for me has perished." "probably," returned julian composedly, "nine women out of ten are dogs in the manger, but you, my dear alice, are the tenth. i shall be glad to see montrose. tell me all about him." "that is difficult," said miss enistor absently, "let me think for a moment." julian could not see why it should be difficult for a young girl in the first delicious phase of a perfect passion to talk to an intimate friend, such as he truly was, of her feelings. but he did not understand what was passing in alice's mind. her wooing was of so unusual a character, and had so much to do with psychic matters concerning which hardwick knew nothing, that it was hard to explain the swift love which had drawn her and douglas together. for one moment she hesitated, and the next decided not to speak. julian would not understand, and she evaded a direct answer to his question by a truly feminine subterfuge. "i would rather you judged douglas for yourself without looking at him through my eyes. he will be here in a few days and then you can give me your opinion." "well," said julian in his usual stolid way, "perhaps you are right!" after which calm acceptance of the situation he became silent. while the two young people had been talking, the car had pursued its way towards tremore steadily and swiftly. along the winding white roads it glided, with the spreading no-man's-land of purple heather on either side. how alice loved it all; the vast moorlands sprinkled with grey blocks of granite; the tumbled steepness of black cliffs; the far-stretching spaces of the gleaming ocean and the life-giving winds that breathed across the limitless lands. for the moment she wondered how she had ever endured the narrow, muffling london streets, with their twice-breathed airs and garish lights. like a thing of life the great car swung untiringly along, and the landscape widened out at every turn of the road. she felt as though she had come out of a stifling cavern into a spacious world, and flung out her hands in ecstatic greeting to the majesty of nature. reborn through love into a wider consciousness, the girl's seeing and hearing now embraced an appreciation of much to which she had been formerly deaf and blind. sound seemed sweeter, colour more vivid and life dearer. there was a feeling of spring in the autumnal air, and alice felt that she wished to dance and sing and generally rejoice out of sheer lightheartedness. "i am made one with nature," she exclaimed, thrilling to the beauty of land and sea. "doesn't shelley say something like that in 'adonais'?" "i never read poetry," replied julian stolidly. "to my mind poets only say in many words what a journalist says in few." "what a pagan sentiment," cried miss enistor gaily, "and how untrue. oh, there is tremore!" assuredly it was, and the grey house looked more sinister than ever in the pale sunshine. it placed its dark spell on alice, for as the motor-car breasted the hill, her gay spirits left her and she became as pale as hitherto she had been rosy. with wonderment and regret julian saw again the wan girl who had left for london weeks before, and anxiously inquired if she felt ill. "no," said alice, rousing herself with an effort from the lethargy which had fallen on her. "i feel quite well, but less full of vitality than when i arrived at perchton. it is the idea of tremore, i think," she shuddered. "you know what a gloomy house it is." "montrose will dispel the gloom when he arrives," suggested hardwick. alice brightened. "oh, i am sure he will. but how nice of you to say that. you are not a bit jealous." "i believe you are annoyed because i am not, my dear girl," laughed the artist. "julian, how can you say such a thing?" she replied absently; then added in a markedly irrelevant manner, "i hope father will be glad to see me." mr. enistor may have been glad, but he certainly did not appear at the door to show his gladness. alice's boxes were taken into the house, and julian departed in the car, declining to enter, on the plea that father and daughter would have much to say to one another. alice did not seek to stay him. she felt chilled by the absence of welcome and the sombre atmosphere of the big house. the beaten space of ground upon which it stood seemed to isolate it from the warm laughing world of vivid life, and she entered with the feeling that she was descending into a vault. nor did the greeting of her father tend to dissipate this impression of dismay. he received her in the library with a cold kiss and without rising from his chair. "well, alice, how are you?" he looked at her keenly as she stood by the table, white and frozen into silence. "your stay in town does not appear to have done you much good." "oh, i feel all right," said the girl, with an effort to be her true self. "you don't look all right," snapped enistor, rather disappointed. "after all the money you have spent you certainly should have a more healthy appearance. h'm! i think i understand," he paused a moment, then added bitingly, "your new lover has disappointed you. is that it?" "no!" alice roused herself to offer a protest. "douglas is all that i can wish, father." "i hope for your sake that he is all _i_ can wish. if he isn't i shall certainly not allow you to marry him. there is always don pablo to----" at this speech alice did wake up and a colour flushed her cheeks. "don pablo, if i am to believe julian, has fallen in love with rose penwin." "i didn't know that hardwick was such a gossip," said enistor coolly. "as to falling in love, narvaez is much too sensible a man. he admires the girl for her beauty and has given her several presents of jewellery. at don pablo's age no one can object to that." "job trevel can, and job trevel does." "more gossip," sneered enistor. "your artist friend appears to have informed himself accurately of the situation. but it matters nothing to you or to me, since neither of us has any right to interfere with don pablo's likes or dislikes. you are the one he loves, alice." "i thought you said a moment ago that he was too sensible to fall in love!" the squire shrugged his shoulders. "i meant in the silly way of boys and girls. narvaez' love is of a deeper and more spiritual kind. he admires rose as a beautiful girl; he adores you as a soul." "i don't want his adoration!" said alice wearily, for it seemed hard that the usual wrangling should begin the moment she returned home. "you prefer montrose's adoration no doubt. well, i have no objection so long as i approve of the young man and he does what i want." "what is that?" "he must restore the money which your aunt left him." "i thought you did not care for the money, father?" "i care very much indeed for the money, although i have never emphasised the fact. only because he has it did i even consider the possibility of your marrying him. i should much prefer you to be narvaez' wife. however, we shall see when the young man arrives. meantime you had better lie down as you seem to be worn out by your journey. it's waste of money to send you away." alice bit her lips to keep back her tears and breathed a prayer that eberstein should help her to throw off the deadly influence of the house. even as she did so the relief came, and she felt a wave of vitality run through her body. the weary, languid sense of utter desolation left her; the colour returned to her cheeks, the brightness to her eyes and the strength to her whole being. enistor saw the statue come to life, and in place of a wan, weak girl beheld a living, breathing woman, very much alive. he stared amazed. "what has come to you?" he demanded, startled and puzzled. "love," said alice quietly, "love and life instead of hate and death!" enistor quivered, since he knew that the first mentioned forces were at war with himself and his dark master. chapter xi the spider and the fly alice returned to her home with the feeling that she was entering a hostile city. the atmosphere of the house was inimical, charged with disintegrating forces, which strove to break up and scatter her protective power. that the power came from dr. eberstein she was now perfectly certain in her own mind, as she had experienced his help so plainly when she arrived. before her visit to london, enistor had so dominated her with his cold cynicism and cruel insistence that he had almost entirely conquered her will. she had been like a bird in the coils of a serpent, and only absence had enabled her to regain her freedom. in surroundings less charged with deadly evil, the girl had recovered the youthful spirits which were her rightful heritage, and the unifying influence of montrose's love had strengthened her considerably. therefore, when fear again threatened to control her, she had been able to assert herself, but, on reflection, she felt positive that the attempt would have been vain had she not mentally appealed to eberstein. why she had thus called upon him for help she scarcely knew, as she was ignorant of matters connected with the occult. all she did know was that the doctor had always soothed her with his serene strength when she was in his presence, and half unconsciously she had wished for him to be beside her when the insidious evil which overshadowed tremore had surged round her to paralyse and control. eberstein had not come himself, but his power had, and like an impassable wall it had fenced her in from danger. the hint that such help was obtainable in such a manner was enough for the girl. she persistently and particularly dwelt upon eberstein's powerful personality, and whenever uncomfortable feelings assailed her, she swiftly imagined that he was close at hand to defend her. also she constantly visualised the image of her lover, knowing that he was willing to lay down his life for her safety, and this in a lesser degree filled her with life and strength. if enistor on his daughter's return doubted that the visit to london had done her good, he had no reason to doubt afterwards. alice recovered, as by magic, the brightness of her eyes and the roses of her cheeks. she went about the dark house gaily and hopefully busy with domestic affairs, always cheerful and merry even to the extent of singing while at work. it might be thought that enistor was glad to see how the girl had recovered her spirits and had benefited by the change. but in place of showing satisfaction, he gloomed and glowered in high displeasure. "there is less chance than ever of our gaining authority over her," he complained to narvaez, when on a visit to the magician's cottage. "we nearly controlled her before she left for london, but now her resisting strength has increased tremendously." "it is not her own strength that defends her," replied don pablo quietly. "then it is the strength of love awakened by montrose. you might have known, master--you who have such means of obtaining knowledge--that there was that risk when i let her go to mrs. barrast's." "i am not omnipotent and omniscient," answered the old man dryly. "great as is my power, there are still many things beyond my control. i implied as much when i told you that the present situation is the outcome of the past. you know the law of karma--the law of cause and effect--the law of 'as ye sow so shall ye reap,' which governs the evolution of the present creation, and knowing so much, you should not be surprised that we are mastered by it as are all beings. sooner or later alice was bound to come into contact with our enemies." "who are they?" "dr. eberstein and douglas montrose!" "alice told me how she had met eberstein and how much she liked him. but she gave me no hint that he was an enemy." "how could she, seeing she does not know," retorted narvaez sharply. "eberstein is the white magician, against whom i warned you weeks ago. he is coming down here soon, as i prophesied he would. and montrose also comes. we were all together in chaldea five thousand years ago, and there engendered causes which have to be worked out in the flesh to-day. why do you blame me for alice going to london?" "she has gained strength by going there and meeting these men. you should have warned me." "i warned you as much as i could," snapped narvaez, acridly sharp, "but i could not prevent the inevitable. alice had to meet them, and the loss of that money under the will which left it to montrose was the means used to bring them together. all i could do, being impotent under the karmic law, was to so arrange matters that montrose might be brought down here along with dr. eberstein. that i have managed and now comes the tug of war. you are by no means a satisfactory pupil, enistor, as i have again and again to explain matters which you already know." "then i take it that eberstein has already declared war by bringing montrose and alice together?" "the great law did that. eberstein's declaration of war is the help that he is giving alice to withstand the influence we strive to bring to bear upon her. for the moment, as you saw, she nearly relapsed into her former condition when she returned from her visit. but her intuition told her to call upon her guardian eberstein and the help came. her innocence protected her before: now she has the more powerful protection of love, both from montrose in a personal sense, and in an impersonal way from eberstein." "is he very powerful?" "yes," grinned narvaez with a look of hate in his cold blue eyes. "he follows the right-hand path of love, and has the universal power behind him. you and i on the left-hand path of hate possess only a portion of that power." "in that case it seems impossible to conquer," said enistor irresolutely. the satanic pride of don pablo rose in arms against this insinuation. "eberstein will find me no mean adversary," he snarled. "i shall fight and fight to the last. already the fly in the person of montrose has walked into my parlour." "oh! so you are the spider?" "yes! and i shall devour montrose if i can. already i have made my plans and started my work by paying attentions to that silly rose penwin, thus arousing the jealousy of trevel." "but i don't see----" "never mind what you see," interrupted narvaez impatiently. "leave me to do what i intend to do, and then eberstein will not find it easy to save montrose, in spite of his power." "but if he has more power than you----?" "can't you understand?" cried don pablo, exasperated. "montrose and alice both have free-will. eberstein can guide and coax; he cannot command. if the two yield to self, then we triumph." "and if they renounce self?" "then we fail. but be of good cheer. neither is yet so strong as to have entirely conquered the animal self, and that will fight in each for its existence. what you have to do is to play the courteous host, to permit the engagement of alice and montrose: then leave the rest to me." this was only one of many conversations which enistor had with his master, while awaiting the arrival of his guest. he could not quite understand the situation, and narvaez declined to explain further than was in his opinion necessary. all enistor knew was that montrose was to be trapped in some way, and that don pablo's courting of rose penwin with gifts had to do with the trapping. contented with this knowledge, the man was markedly amiable to his daughter, and alice felt nervously surprised by the unusual attention which her ordinarily indifferent father paid her. formerly she had, with some reason, dreaded the sinister influence emanating from him, but now seeing in his demonstrations of affection a sign that he truly loved her, she regretted her possible misjudgment. in many ways she attempted to show her appreciation of the miraculous change from blame to praise, and on the whole found domestic life at tremore unexpectedly pleasant. nevertheless the natures of father and daughter clashed at odd moments, and it was only by constantly acting parts they did not truly feel that they could keep things smooth. more than ever did alice long for the arrival of montrose, so that she could display her true nature and exercise her true love. enistor's unnatural complaisance extended to hardwick, as, now that he was aware of the artist's rejection, he did not forbid his visits. julian guessed that the squire merely tolerated him, and simply came to tremore on all and every occasion to aid alice, since he knew that she was something of an alien in her home. his host was always pointedly agreeable, and so--strange to say--was don pablo. the dark dour old man, for some hidden reason, appeared to take a great interest in the artist. as he had formerly neglected him in every way, julian was puzzled to know why he should be thus honoured. not liking narvaez, he did not reciprocate this belated amiability, and always escaped with alice on to the moors when it was possible. he trained her to observe the beauties of nature, and opened her eyes to a more glorious world of form and colour. alice accepted such behaviour with sisterly thankfulness, and looked upon him as a large comfortable newfoundland dog, able to protect and please her. therefore the young people found life very pleasant, and all was sunshine for the moment, as eberstein had predicted. that more glorious sunshine would come with her lover's arrival alice knew very well, but she never forgot that clouds would sooner or later overshadow the summer sky, although she could not see in which quarter they would arise. a vague feeling, however, intimated that disaster would come with montrose, and that her belief in his love would be severely tested. nevertheless, she looked forward to his arrival, knowing that eberstein would follow him shortly. and in the doctor she had the most implicit confidence, assured that whatever sorrow descended upon her or her lover, eberstein would guard them and help them in every way. also there was julian upon whom she could rely in the hour of her need. the suspense indeed was unpleasant, but alice fought it with prayer and high thinking, girding herself as it were with armour of light against the time when the dark powers would assault the citadel of her being. but in her innocence she was ignorant, save from the hints of eberstein, that an assault was intended. at length came the golden day when douglas was to arrive, and alice rejoiced to receive a letter stating that the young man would leave london by the early morning train at five o'clock. at half-past three he would be at perchton, and there julian was to meet him in his friend's motor-car which he had again procured, so that montrose might be with alice as speedily as was possible. enistor, indeed, mindful of don pablo's injunction to be courteous, had offered to send the carriage, but alice, anxious that some swifter method should be found to bring her lover to her longing arms, had accepted the offer of julian. she did not go to the perchton station herself, but waited a mile beyond polwellin village in a green nook beside the high road for the happy moment. hardwick had purposely arranged to bring the lover to tremore, as he was anxious for the sake of the girl's happiness to see what was the nature of the man she had chosen to be her husband, and deemed that he could discover the same more easily when alice was not present. apparently his reading of montrose's character was satisfactory, for when the car came swirling round the corner, alice saw that the two young men were chatting together as if they had known one another for years. of course when alice was espied waving her hand on the green hill above the nook, the car was stopped on the dusty white road, and equally of course montrose jumped down to run like a deer up the ascent. in another moment she was in his fond arms, and heart was beating against heart. neither could speak, so full of joyful emotion was the moment, and guessing this, julian told the chauffeur to drive on. with some astonishment the couple saw the motor slipping round the bend of the road, through the village, and up towards tremore, bearing the portmanteau of montrose. they were alone in the purple world amongst the gorgeous coloured bracken, which was vivid with autumnal tints. the sun was just sinking and the glory of its rainbow hues bathed them in opal lights. "that is one of the nicest fellows i ever met," said montrose, when the first surprise at julian's prompt action was over. "and he is so sensible. he knew i wanted to be alone with you at the first opportunity." "julian is always considerate," said alice gaily. "you call him julian--mrs. barrast's brother?" said montrose jealously. "dear," she took him by the lapels of his coat and looked into his dark eyes. "of course i call him by his christian name. i told you about julian in london. how he proposed to me: how i refused him, and how we are now like brother and sister. there is no need to be----" montrose stopped her mouth with a kiss. "don't say the word. i am a fool," he said penitently. "i remember what you said in town. and hardwick is a brick; a really true, honest-hearted fellow. i like him immensely. and--and--oh, we have so much to talk about, alice, that we need not waste the time in discussing hardwick, even though he is so decent." alice quite agreed with this sentiment, so the two started to climb the hills on their way to tremore, and talked all the way of near and dear matters so necessary and interesting to lovers, and so dull when a third person overhears. they went over their meeting in hans crescent, recalled what he had said and what she had replied; explained how each had been hungry for this precious moment of meeting and punctuated the enthralling conversation with frequent kisses. and as the magical light died out of the western sky, they conversed on graver subjects which had to do with some vague thought of evil coming to them both. montrose explained how he had seen eberstein shortly before leaving london. "he sent for me yesterday," said the young man, fumbling at his breast, "and gave me this, which he said was necessary for my protection." "your protection," echoed alice with a sudden qualm, and she stared at the small golden heart swung on a thin golden chain, which montrose had produced unexpectedly. "why should you want protection, douglas?" "ah, that i cannot truly say. but i am so accustomed to obey the doctor implicitly that i did as he asked me and wear this amulet round my neck. he has always a reason for what he does, alice. remember, dear, he said plainly that our sunshine would not last for ever," ended montrose gravely. "there is to be a period of sorrow, i know," murmured alice, nestling close to her lover's side. "but with dr. eberstein's help we shall come out of the darkness into the light once more. i don't know what he means," she added after a pause. "why should sorrow come?" "i have an idea that it has something to do with our meeting in former lives, alice, and that we have enemies to encounter and conquer." "don pablo very likely." "i think so, although i am not sure." montrose spoke dreamily, remembering his wonderful vision and the warning of eberstein. "we must watch and pray, dear, for, more or less, we are moving in the darkness. this will aid us," and he held up the talisman, which glittered in the sunset rays. "but how can that golden heart help?" asked alice disbelievingly. "you only see the exterior, dear. it holds," montrose made the sign of the cross on his breast, "a portion of the host, as dr. eberstein told me, and is therefore powerful against evil. i called it an amulet: rightly, i should have said a reliquary. look, dearest!" then a most wonderful thing happened. the two had reached the shade of the wood surrounding tremore, and had halted on its verge in a spot where the sunlight could not penetrate. but as alice stared at the golden heart it blazed as a star with a far more brilliant light than any she had ever seen before. in a flash of thought she knew that her interior senses had been opened by the mightiest influence on earth. she was looking through the sheath of metal at the very host itself in its supernal aspect, radiant, glorious, wonderful, holy. "oh!" she breathed in a hushed voice and bowed her head reverently. "what is it?" asked her lover in surprise, for her expression was angelic. "do you not see the light that is brighter than the sun?" "no," he whispered nervously, and seized her hand, like a child seeking for the comfort of a mother's touch. "where is the light?" "it is gone now." alice passed her disengaged hand across her brow. "it disappeared when you touched me. when you held up that heart it shone like a marvellous star of splendour." then montrose understood. "you have seen the power itself," he murmured, and with trembling hands restored the reliquary to his breast. for the moment what alice had seen shook him to the core of his being. "how glorious to be able to see through the veil even for a single moment. but why should you not when it is said, 'blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see god'?" like children they clung to one another on the borders of that dark wood, and it was some time before they could proceed. the sacred light they felt was yet around them, and would act as a shield against all evil. that it did so far as alice was concerned was certain, for while walking under the yews amidst the heavy darkness, her sense of protection was unusually strong. not so montrose, for even though he carried the reliquary, he was less sensitive to its helpful influence than the girl who was more attuned to spirituality. it might be that with him the preponderance of earthly desires placed him more in touch with the lower planes than with the higher, but undoubtedly he felt strongly the tremendous pressure of the evil around him. and when the two halted on the verge of the beaten ground, barren of herb and flower, the house of hate bulked largely, silent, black, brooding and menacing. "alice, how can you live here?" demanded montrose, grasping her hand tightly. "you feel it also?" she whispered, "that sense of doom and dread?" "i feel the power that rends and tears and parts asunder: the disintegrating force of chaos, which is necessary for creation before cosmos--the cosmos of love can be formed!" and unconsciously he gripped her hand with crushing force, so great was the emotion which stirred him. "douglas, you hurt me," cried the girl, writhing. "oh, forgive me," he descended to the commonplace and tenderly kissed the pained finger. "but the feeling of dread was so strong that i forgot what i was doing. there," he kissed her hand twice, "is it better, darling?" alice laughed. "you are a child," she said, advancing towards the house. her lover sighed. "we are all children, i think. afraid of the dark." "there is no darkness where god is, dear. think of god and the light comes." "you are nearer to the great spirit of love than i am," said douglas, peering nervously into the gloom. then he made an effort to throw off the still persistent influence of evil. "let us get into the lamplight." "come then," said alice, and stepping into the porch, she laid her hand on the handle of the door. immediately, as by magic, it retreated from her fingers, and the portal swung wide to reveal enistor on the threshold, dimly seen in what light still radiated from the fading sunset over the heavy tree-tops. "i heard your voices," he explained genially, "and knew that our guest had arrived. welcome to tremore, mr. montrose." "thank you, sir, oh, thank you," replied the young man, reassured by this reception and warmly clasping the hand extended to him. as he did so a strong feeling of repulsion possessed his mind with overwhelming force, and it was all he could do to prevent himself from wrenching his hand away. not that there was any need for the action on his part, for enistor actually translated the thought into swift doing, and loosened his grip, to stand back with a startled look. without doubt the same repugnance at the same instant of time obsessed the older man, but, less self-controlled, he had been unable to prevent the unfriendly action. in the twilight each man strove to see the face of the other, but it was impossible to distinguish clearly. in shadows they met as shadows. it was alice who broke the spell of confused hatred, as, in spite of her clairvoyant faculty, she was apparently ignorant of the thunder in the air. "i am sure you will be glad to have tea, douglas. is it in the library, father?" "yes!" muttered enistor, regaining his self-control by a powerful effort, and with that one word he led the way into the lamplight. douglas followed arm in arm with the girl, feeling that but for her and all she meant to him he would have escaped immediately from the grim house and its unseen owner. in the mellow radiance which flooded the library enistor beheld a slim and delicate man with the dreamy face of a poet. scorning himself that such a stripling should cause him even momentary dread, and despising him as one of the enemies indicated by narvaez, the squire became good-naturedly tolerant. during tea-time he behaved courteously, and proved himself to be a genial and hospitable host. but montrose was markedly silent, as his repulsion increased immediately he caught sight of that dark and powerful countenance. also in his heart there lurked an uncomfortable fear that enistor was in a position to injure him in some inexplicable way. it was not physical fear, for montrose was a brave man, but a hateful influence which seemed in some way to paralyse him. why this should be so he was naturally unable to guess, but the desire to fly the neighbourhood of an implacable foe was so strong that it took him all his strength to resist the desire for an ignominious retreat. but for alice's sake he did so resist, as her gracious presence enabled him to bear the strain with some equanimity. therefore, as he had been trained by eberstein to control his feelings, he drank and ate in quite a conventional manner. alice, still ignorant of the hatred with which her father and her lover regarded one another, presided over what was outwardly a merry little meal, chatting and laughing in a smiling and whole-hearted way, as though she had not a care in the world. as indeed she had not for the moment. "i fear you will feel dull here, mr. montrose," said enistor, formal and cold. "oh, father, what a compliment to me!" "my dear, we are quiet folk at tremore, you must admit." "i like quietness," said montrose, smiling, "and would much rather be here than in london. and of course with alice----" "it is paradise," ended enistor cynically. "you have the usual stock-in-trade of pretty phrases which lovers delight in. well, we must see what we can do to amuse you. i am usually busy myself, but alice can be your guide to the few sights of the neighbourhood. you can ride a horse, or a bicycle, and drive in the carriage or dog-cart. there is a tennis-lawn at the back of the house and golf-links in perchton. then you can go sketching on the moors with mr. hardwick and alice; or job trevel will take you out fishing. mr. sparrow, the vicar of polwellin, will show you the church and cromlechs and rocking-stones and other such things, as he is something of an archæologist. we can have music and bridge and conversation in the evenings, and----" "stop! stop!" interrupted montrose, now more at his ease, as he saw that the squire was endeavouring to make himself agreeable. "it would require six months to do all these things. i shall enjoy myself immensely, especially if you will introduce me to señor narvaez." "what do you know about him?" asked enistor sharply, and frowning. "all that alice and hardwick could tell me. he seems to be a very interesting man, and an unusual character." "he is original," assented enistor quickly, "so much so that he does not choose to know every one. however, as he is my very good friend i daresay i shall be able to induce him to meet you here. you will find him very interesting indeed," ended the squire significantly, and he stared hard at montrose, wondering if he guessed how the spaniard regarded him. but the young man, having nothing to conceal, and quite innocent of don pablo's enmity towards him, met the squire's gaze with a forced friendly smile. "i like interesting people," he said amiably. "and i hope you do also, mr. enistor, as my friend dr. eberstein is coming to perchton shortly." "i shall be pleased to welcome any friend of yours," replied the elder man in a formal way, and then rose to leave the room. he felt that he had done enough as host for the time being and wished to be alone, so that he might send mental messages to narvaez about the new arrival. "you will excuse me until dinner-time, mr. montrose. alice will entertain you." when the squire departed alice did her best in the way of entertainment, but found it difficult to banish the thoughtful look from her lover's face. pleading fatigue, the young man soon sought the room assigned to him, and pondered over the odd distaste which the sight of enistor induced. he could not account for it, and wished that eberstein would appear to elucidate the problem. across his mind flashed insistently the question of ahab, "hast thou found me, o mine enemy?" and the deadly answer of elijah the seer, "i _have_ found thee!" much as he loved alice, he felt that the situation was uncomfortable and perplexing and quite beyond human explanation. chapter xii small beer chronicles "the emphasis of the soul is always right!" says emerson, meaning thereby that the immediate feeling which individuals have for one another at first sight is a hint from the divine within them as to whether they should be friends or foes. this subtle impulse is never felt again, as self-interest and custom gradually blunt the spiritual perceptions, and those who cross each other's path behave as worldly circumstances bid them. and naturally so, for whenever the desires of the animal-self come into operation, the more latent powers of the higher-self are obscured. therefore, he is the wise man who accepts the emphasis of the soul as guidance in the choice of friends and in the doing of deeds. because men, influenced by selfishness, do not follow such a lead, their path in life becomes much more complicated than it need be. they hear the blatant trumpeting of desire: not the still small voice of conscience. not being particularly metaphysical, montrose was ignorant of this safeguard, and did not heed the warning of danger given at his first meeting with enistor. that schemer, better informed, accepted the knowledge that here was a foe to be wary of. it would have been surprising had he not done so, as apart from the hatred which sprang into lively being at the first touch of hands, narvaez had spoken plainly, and moreover montrose was the detestable person who had secured lady staunton's fortune. to regain it and allow the spaniard to execute his dark designs, enistor masked his hatred under a fine show of courtesy, behaving with such apparent sincerity that douglas was entirely deceived. as the days slipped by and there was no change in the gracious attitude of his host, he grew to like him, to admire him and to enjoy his companionship. this was little to be wondered at, as enistor, being well-read and well-bred, could make himself extremely agreeable when he chose to do so. for obvious reasons he did so choose, and so did away with the mysterious repulsion of the first meeting that it became only a dim memory to montrose. at the end of seven days the visitor persuaded himself without any great difficulty that enistor was a most excellent man, an agreeable friend, and one likely to prove an ideal father-in-law. alice was relieved to see that the two men got on so well together, and more than ever decided that she had deceived herself with regard to her father's true character. "you have, i think, bridged the gulf between us," she explained one sunday morning, when with montrose she was descending the hill to polwellin church. "father and i never got on well until you came." "dearest, your father's character takes time to realise," was the prompt reply. "he looks stern and is of a reserved nature. but when one comes to know him he has a sweet kernel for all his rugged rind. at first i did not think we should get on well together, but that was a mistake. he's a ripping fine chap, and as good as they make 'em." "do you like my father for his own sake or for mine?" asked alice doubtfully. "for both sakes," rejoined the young man positively. "and seeing that i am here to rob him of his dearest treasure, i think he is behaving wonderfully." "h'm!" murmured alice, not wholly agreeing with this valuation. "are you so sure? father looks at me in a different way from what you do." "naturally. it is a different kind of love. from what you said, i quite expected to find your father a bear and a tyrant. instead of being either he is delightful in every way. i don't think you are quite fair to him." "perhaps," the girl was still undecided. "he has altered much since you came, douglas. you have brought the best out of him. he is more human. all the same----" she stopped abruptly. "well then--all the same?" "nothing," said alice abruptly, and passed swiftly into the church, where further speaking was out of the question, much to her relief. what she had meant to say and did not say was concerned with an uncomfortable under-current of thought regarding her father's surprising attitude. owing to the relationship between them it was difficult to judge him impartially; yet alice wished to do so, if only to satisfy her own conscience. remembering the man's lifelong indifference and coldness and utter want of consideration, the girl left that this aggressive amiability was assumed for some purpose. what that purpose might be she could not conjecture, unless it had to do with the recovery of the fortune which she now knew he had not lost with equanimity. but even if the marriage with douglas took place, it was hard to see how her father hoped to benefit, and she knew from experience that he did not hold with altruism. filial sentiment made her strive to please him on the forced assumption that in spite of appearance he really did love her. but somehow she could not convince herself that such was the case. he was acting the affectionate father as she was acting the affectionate daughter, yet she did not think that he believed in her any more than she believed in him. it was all very difficult and very disagreeable. it was useless to discuss the matter with montrose, and for this reason she had ended their conversation by entering the church. the young man and her father had become excellent friends, and he would never believe that enistor was anything but what he presented himself to be. in fact, douglas had told her very plainly that she had misjudged her father, and her own surface-thoughts implying that such was the case inflicted a pang. but intuition scouted the idea of misjudgment. as one human being adjusting herself to another human being she knew how to act, but as a child striving to understand her parent she was quite bewildered. finally, she decided that the only thing to be done was to accept the situation as her father wished it to be accepted, if only for the sake of peace and quietness. the squire was willing to permit the marriage, and was doing his best to be agreeable to his future son-in-law. nothing else mattered for the moment. having arrived at this sensible conclusion, alice compelled herself to attend to the service. it was by no means an interesting one, as there was a want of warmth and colour about it which reduced the whole to a monotonous repetition of fine phrases. the vicar was a thoroughly good man, earnest and self-sacrificing, but with so moral a temperament that he entirely failed to understand sinners. and not understanding them he was unable to give them that sympathetic help which a practical experience of temptation teaches. he would scold a wrong-doer with great anger--box his ears so to speak--not because he was a bad-tempered man, but for the simple reason that he could not see the sin from the wrong-doer's point of view. as mr. sparrow said again and again, he did not want to run away with his neighbour's wife; he did not desire to drink too much, or to cheat, or to swear, so why--he asked plaintively--should his parishioners desire to do such uninviting things? by this inborn obtuseness he missed his aim, as he invariably attempted to bully ignorant wrong into becoming enlightened right without necessary explanations. naturally those he genuinely tried to help resented a process which robbed them of their self-respect, and which gave them no logical reason for doing other than their crude desires bade them. therefore while some remained members of the church, and accepted ecclesiastical scoldings stolidly as part of the burdens of life which they were called upon to bear because they could not help the bearing, others took refuge in the beer-shops and rejected all authority. also, there were a few who joined nonconformist sects of the democratic type, where the congregation controlled the preacher, and turned him out if his views were unsatisfactory to their narrow understandings. the result of these things was chaos, and mr. sparrow lamented that he had to deal with such stiff-necked people. yet had he been able to explain reasonably what he taught, and had he possessed the tact to coax instead of bullying, he would soon have reduced the whole parish to order. as a matter of fact in one way the vicar was better than his religion: not that his religion was not true and helpful, but because he knew it only externally, and taught by the letter rather than by the spirit. in the first lesson he read about the angry and jealous god of the jews, and in the second declared the everlasting love of the father, who sent his beloved son to suffer for his children. naturally the congregation could not understand such a contradiction, and mr. sparrow did not explain, because he did not understand himself. therefore on sundays he was rather a failure, while on week-days he was highly successful. the fishermen and their wives could comprehend a parson who helped them in their small needs and talked kindly to them, and shared their joys as well as their sorrows. but what they could not comprehend was the priest who tried to bully them into seeking a vague state of existence, which to them appeared to be vapour and moonshine. they wanted proofs, or at least reason, and they got neither. in his sermons mr. sparrow told those who listened drowsily that if they were black with sin, they would go to hell: if they kept innocently white, they would arrive in a dreamland heaven: but he made no provision for the grey people. and as the majority of the congregation, if not the whole, belonged to the third category, being neither particularly good nor particularly sinful, the alternatives did not interest them much. those in church adopted various attitudes, said certain words, sang certain tunes, and went through a set ceremony, with a vague idea that it was all necessary somehow to arrange matters for a vague future. when montrose came out he commented on their orderly behaviour, and utter ignorance of what it all meant. "though of course," he added truthfully, "there were some who understood more than the rest. still, what a clockwork ceremony!" "oh, but, douglas, the liturgy of the church of england is very beautiful." "the most beautiful the mind of man can conceive," he admitted readily. "what can be more glorious than the litany, which includes all possible petitions that mortals can offer. said understandingly nothing can be more helpful." "mr. sparrow read it beautifully, and the responses were made correctly." "oh yes! but i missed the living spirit. it was all words, repeated parrot-fashion by the majority--i don't say all--of those present." "but what can the vicar do, douglas? you know how dull the people are?" "they are children, more or less stupid," said montrose with conviction, "and can grasp very little. since mr. sparrow teaches them to love god and love their neighbour, he is doing all that he can do. but he could colour the greyness of his sermon: he could speak in parables as the master did. then he would arrest their attention, and some ideas, if put picturesquely, would stick in their minds. a man will forget a series of admonitions if stated baldly: he will certainly remember some if connected with a story." "perhaps," said alice doubtfully. "but mr. sparrow is a really good man." "isn't that rather irrelevant?" observed the young man dryly. "i quite admit that he is a good man. it is not his fault that the church has lost her esoteric knowledge, which was reserved for the intellectual, who wished to believe with the head as well as with the heart. but he is only a sample of many parsons. his intentions are of the best, but he does not speak with conviction to my mind." "he is a true believer," urged the girl, rather distressed. "i am sure he is everything that is genuine and kind," replied her lover, a trifle impatiently. "but he lacks that wisdom which comes from logical reasoning on the things he discourses about." "but can religion be proved logically?" "certainly; but only when one knows the esoteric teaching which the church had, but which the church has lost. eberstein has taught much of it to me during the last three years, and there are few questions connected with religion and the bible which i cannot answer in at least a reasonable way. go to mr. sparrow and he will assure you that half the questions you ask are a mystery into which you must not pry. what is the result, alice?" "i'm sure i can't say," she answered good-humouredly. "the result is," continued montrose, growing more vehement, "that whenever a man begins to think, he leaves the church from sheer inability to gain the information which is needed to reconcile what is taught with common sense. only the people who don't think, who are christians because they happen to have been brought up christians, remain in the church, and accept emotionally and blindly whatever is told them on ecclesiastical authority. that, when examined, is no authority at all to the thinking man." "and the inner teaching?" "it gives a perfectly reasonable and logical explanation which proves that the exoteric teaching is true. i believe all that the church sets forth save the one word 'eternal' before the one word 'hell.' but then i know why i believe and can defend my belief in a most positive manner, so that any man with common sense must admit the logic of my arguments. think if the parsons knew of this teaching, and gave it out, how the churches would be thronged. people are not irreligious nowadays. there never was a time when men and women wished to know about the truth more anxiously than they do to-day. but they go to those in authority and are given a stone in place of bread." "why will not the parsons take this teaching?" "i cannot say. it changes nothing they teach outwardly, save the horrible doctrine of eternal punishment, and gives back to all in a rational and convincing way the faith they are gradually losing. yet the church goes on blindly repeating the same things sunday after sunday, until they have lost their force. the inner teaching would revive that force, if accepted, and the church would be able to fulfil her true mission, which is to lead civilisation. as it is, her children will not stay with her. pain is forcing the most advanced souls to try and understand the problems of existence, and this understanding the esoteric teaching gives, as i have proved myself. but the church should be the teacher: not pain, which comes from ignorance." "but these fishermen and women would only be bewildered if they sought to understand the problems of life in the way you do." "of course: because i am at a higher point of evolution. but what they are i was, and only pain drove me to acquire further knowledge, as pain will drive them in future lives. what mr. sparrow teaches them is all right: they are satisfied with bread and do not desire cake. but what i maintain is that the vicar should know more, and then he could do more good with his simple instruction by luring them on to think d e f as well as a b c. however, he is a good man and does his best according to his lights, and that is well. i daresay he is an interesting man when he talks archæology, because that is his hobby and he is sincere." "oh, douglas, i am sure mr. sparrow's religion is sincere." "i am sure it is," assented montrose quickly. "but his understanding is so limited that he is unable to make religion interesting. and believe me, alice, that since i met eberstein and learned what religion really is, i find it the most interesting thing in the world. i know little as yet, as i learn but slowly. still i am beginning to grasp the great scheme of the present creation, and it is so glorious and beautiful that i shall never rest until i understand it sufficiently to take a conscious part in it, and do the work appointed to me as douglas montrose." alice was silent. what her lover said was beyond her understanding, as, save some discussions with the limited mr. sparrow, she had never talked about such great subjects. her father never spoke of religion and never went to church, so she really only knew what the vicar could teach her. so far as that went all was well, but she sometimes yearned for a fuller comprehension of creation and for reasonable explanations of life's riddles. from what montrose had said it seemed likely that he could teach her what she wished to know, and that eberstein, to whom he had referred, could teach her more when the time came. her face glowed at the idea and she felt anxious to be instructed at once. but by this time they had wandered down the path to the beach, below the black cliffs, and her lover was talking of other things. she therefore left theology alone for lighter conversation, and approved of montrose's appreciation of the beauty which clothed sea and land. "what a lovely place, alice. i am sure the fairies dance on these yellow sands in the moonlight." "of course they do," said alice, now talking on a subject about which she knew a great deal. "fairies really exist, you know. señor narvaez calls them nature-spirits. he showed me some one day." montrose turned on her in surprise. "are you clairvoyant?" "yes! señor narvaez says so!" "and does he know anything about clairvoyance?" "a great deal. so does my father. they both take an interest in such things, you see, and study them." "and you?" "oh, i know very little, save what information don pablo has given me. he says that my clairvoyant faculty must be trained before it can be of any use." "true enough. eberstein told me also that clairvoyance must be trained. but is señor narvaez the man to train it?" "he knows much about the unseen, douglas." "i should not be surprised to learn that what he does know is of the worst, alice," said douglas dryly. "there is something evil about that man. i have only met him twice and each time i was uncomfortable in his presence. he is like a snake, a toad--a--a--oh, any noxious animal. and to think that he wanted to marry you. i never heard of such insolence." "he means well," said alice soothingly. "i doubt it. anything he means is to his own advantage. i shouldn't be at all surprised to learn that he was a brother of the shadow, since he knows about unseen things." "a brother of the shadow?" "so eberstein tells me black magicians are called." "but are there really such men?" "yes. there are white magicians and black. they both have acquired super-physical powers the same in essence, acting differently when used differently. good men use them to help: bad men use them to hurt. just like dynamite, you know, dear. you can use it for a good purpose to blow up rocks blocking a harbour, or for a bad one to destroy life. but the thing itself and the action of the thing are the same. how did you see these fairies?" "nature-spirits," insisted alice quickly. "oh, one day when i was on the moor don pablo came along. he told me about them and i did not believe in such things. then he took my hand, saying i was clairvoyant. in some way his touch or some power which he poured into me opened"--alice was puzzled how the experience could be explained--"opened a third eye, as it might be. i don't know exactly how to put it, but in some way i saw----" "saw what?" "little men and women on the heather. some were playing and others were at work. the ground i sat on was alive with them. yet when don pablo took his hand away, the third eye closed and they vanished. but of course they were still around me, though i could not see them. i told julian about pixies and nixies, and he laughingly said that it needed the eye of faith to see them. i daresay that was my third eye. do you understand?" "perfectly. eberstein has explained some of these things to me. and i had an experience----" douglas broke off abruptly, remembering that the doctor had asked him to say nothing about his vision. "well, it doesn't matter. but i quite believe that the veil can be lifted, or perhaps--a better way of putting it--the veil can be seen through." it was lucky for montrose that alice's attention was distracted at the moment, as she might have pressed him overhard to relate his experience. and as she had her full share of feminine curiosity, she would not have been put off with evasive replies. but at the rude jetty a boat had arrived and in the boat was a tall girl, whom miss enistor recognised at once. she told montrose to stay where he was and ran down the slope to speak with rose penwin. the reason why she did not want douglas to accompany her was obvious. "oh, rose, why have you not been up to see me?" asked alice, when the girl moored her boat to the jetty and stepped ashore. "i have been too busy, miss," replied rose, smiling, and showing a set of very white teeth. "did you want me?" "it's about job trevel." "oh!" rose flushed and drew herself up. "what's he been saying?" "nothing. i haven't seen him. but people are talking, rose." "let them talk," retorted the girl sullenly. "if i'd a shilling for every bad word they say of me i should be rich." alice looked at her in pained silence. rose was a magnificent-looking woman, tall and stately, highly coloured and beautiful. with her black hair and black eyes and perfectly moulded figure, she looked the embodiment of a sea-goddess. also her dress was picturesque, with a touch of colour here and there pleasing to the eye. but what alice looked at most was a snake bracelet of indian workmanship in silver which clung round her right wrist. "do you think it right to let don pablo give you such presents?" rose flushed still deeper and her eyes flashed with anger. "he might be my grandfather," she snapped in a savage manner. "but he isn't," replied alice earnestly. "oh, rose, you know how hot-blooded job is. and if you give him cause to be jealous----" "i don't care if he's jealous or not, miss. the likes of me is a sight too good for the likes of him." "but he's an honest man----" "so is don pablo, and what's more he's a richer man. if he was young i wouldn't let him give me things. but whatever they may say, an old gentleman like that don't mean no harm. besides, i haven't said yes to job." "but you will say yes." "that depends upon how job behaves himself, miss. i'm not going to have him glowering and swearing as if i was doing something wrong, which i ain't. and begging your pardon, miss, i don't see what you've got to do with it." "i don't want to see you get into trouble," said alice indiscreetly. rose flashed round furiously. "who said i was going to get into trouble? i like pretty things, and if an old gentleman gives them to me, where's the harm, i should like to know?" "job's jealousy----" "let him keep it to himself," interrupted rose, who was in a fine rage. "i ain't his wife yet to be at his beck and call. and perhaps i never shall be if it comes to that. don pablo says that a girl like me would make plenty of money in london as an artist's model: or i might go on the stage." "i think don pablo should be ashamed of himself to poison your mind in this way," burst out alice, angry in her turn. "don't be a fool." inherited respect for the squire's daughter kept rose within bounds, but for the moment she looked as though she would strike alice. with an effort she turned away, biting her lip and clenching her hands. "i'll forget myself if i stay, miss. you'd best keep away from me!" and before miss enistor could stop her she fairly ran up the path past montrose on her hurried way to the village. douglas turned to stare after the flying figure, and wondered what alice had said to send the girl away with such wrath depicted on her face. at the same moment as rose disappeared alice heard a deep male voice speaking to her, and turned to see job clambering up on the hither side of the jetty. he was a tall, bulky, powerful man, with red hair and keen blue eyes, handsome and virile in a common way, and exhibited a strength which appealed to every woman for miles around. at one time it appealed to rose, but since don pablo had poisoned her mind she had risked an unpleasant exhibition of that strength by her coquettish behaviour. job looked dour and dangerous, and there was a spark in his blue eyes. "i heard what you said, miss alice," he remarked, drawing a deep breath. "i was under the jetty waiting for her coming. but when you spoke to her i thought i'd just wait to hear if she'd listen to sense." "it doesn't seem like it, job," said alice sadly, and looked with distress on the splendid figure of her foster-brother. "no, it don't, miss," he responded gloomily. "she's got the bit between her teeth, she has. it's all that foreign devil, begging your pardon for the word, miss alice. i'd like to strangle him." "don't be silly, talking in that way, job. it's dangerous." "it will be for him, if he don't sheer off," muttered the man vengefully. "job, you know quite well that don pablo is an old man: he must be eighty if an hour. you can't be jealous of him." "but i am, miss alice, and it ain't no good saying as i'm not. what right has he to give her presents and talk about taking her to london? i'll break his neck if he goes on with such talk." alice tried to defend the spaniard, not because she thought he was acting rightly, but for the simple reason that she wished to talk job into a calmer state of mind. at the moment the man was dangerous. "don pablo only admires rose as a beautiful woman," she urged. "then he shan't. no one shall admire her but me. and if he wants to marry, miss alice----" "oh, nonsense," she broke in. "why, he's too old." "well, they did say as you were going to marry him," retorted trevel coolly. "i am going to do nothing of the sort," cried the girl, stamping her foot. "i think you should be more sensible than to suggest such a thing." "i didn't suggest it," said job stolidly. "but the squire wants----" "i don't care what the squire wants," interrupted alice, with another stamp. "people say things they have no right to say. you are my foster-brother, job, and i allow you more licence than most. but you must never speak to me in this way again." "i didn't mean any harm, miss alice, and my heart is sore." "poor job!" alice became sorry for the big man. "you do suffer, and rose ought to be ashamed of herself to cause you such pain. get her to marry you at once and laugh at don pablo." "she won't. he's got her fair under his thumb, miss alice," said trevel gloomily. "i hate him, and so does everyone else. he's the only man as i ever heard the parson have a bad word for. there's something about that foreign chap," job clenched a huge fist, "as makes you want to squash him like a toad." alice nodded comprehendingly. "all the same you must do him no harm, or you will get into trouble. and remember, job, that i am your friend"--she gave him her hand--"and to prove it i shall tell you what will please you. i am engaged to that gentleman over there--mr. montrose." trevel shook the hand heartily and his face grew good-natured. "i'm fair glad of it, miss. i've seen the gentleman and like the gentleman. he's been down in the village with mr. hardwick, as we like also. as to that foreigner, miss--ugh!" job scowled and turned away, while alice went back to douglas. "i have been trying to reconcile two lovers, but i have failed," she told him. "what is the cause of the quarrel?" asked the young man, amused. "a dangerous one. don pablo," and she gave details. "what an old beast!" said montrose. "if i were that fisherman i'd screw his neck." "don't put such ideas into job's head," cried alice rebukingly. "he is angry enough as it is!" "all the worse for don pablo, my dear!" and so they left the matter, which was of less importance then than it became afterwards. chapter xiii further small beer chronicles when the young people went to church, enistor took the opportunity of paying a visit to narvaez. the effort to keep up an appearance of friendship for a man he hated was not easy, and the squire wished to unbend in the society of one who knew his true sentiments. also he greatly desired to learn what were don pablo's plans regarding the restoration of the fortune, for the spaniard did not seem to be moving in the matter at all, and valuable time was being wasted. and since enistor was anxious to get rid of montrose as speedily as possible, he thought it was just as well to suggest that the scheme--whatever it might be--should be completed as soon as could be conveniently managed. the master of tremore wanted to handle the coveted income; he wished to see his daughter married to narvaez, and finally he desired to learn the nature of this danger at which don pablo hinted so frequently. of course the marriage with the spaniard, by making possible the training of alice's clairvoyant powers, would soon disclose this last. enistor walked leisurely over the moor to where the evil mount with its crown of monoliths was indistinctly outlined against the grey sky. as it was now autumn, the heavens had lost their summer azure, and the earth had been stripped of its flowering splendour. he wandered through a ruined world, where the red and brown and yellow of the dying bracken were veiled in chilly mists. the ground was sodden, the herbage was dripping wet, and the cries of the birds sounded mournful, as though they were regretting the passing of warm weather. that enistor should see the prostrate body of a man lying amidst the fantastic colours of the moorland seemed to be so much in keeping with the general air of decay and sadness that he did not even start when he bent over the still form. but he did utter an ejaculation when he looked at the white face and recognised julian hardwick. why the artist should be here in an unconscious condition enistor did not pause to inquire. he was above all a man of action, and as it was necessary to revive hardwick, he hastened to fill his cap with water at a convenient pool. the chill of the fluid on the white face flushed it with returning life, and when enistor loosened the collar, and shook the body, julian opened his eyes languidly. in a half-dazed way he murmured something about brandy, a hint which the squire acted upon by searching the artist's pockets. he soon found what he looked for, and a drink of the generous liquor revived hardwick so speedily that he was soon able to sit up and talk. "my heart is weak," he said in a stronger voice, buttoning his collar. enistor was frankly amazed. "why, you always look singularly healthy." "because i am big and well-covered with flesh it is natural you should think so, mr. enistor. but the heart doesn't do its work properly. that is why i live so much in the open air, and----" "don't talk so much. you are exhausting yourself." hardwick took a second drink of brandy, and as the heart quickened he began to look more like his old self. "i am all right now," he assured his helper, "i can manage to crawl to my lodgings and lie down for a time." he got on to his feet and stretched himself languidly. "i always carry brandy on the chance of these attacks!" "you couldn't have used the brandy had i not been here to help you," said the squire bluntly. "if you are liable to such seizures you should not venture to wander on these lonely moors by yourself." "perhaps not! but it is rarely i become so incapable. thank you very much for being so kind. i shall go home now." then enistor made an effort which rather amazed himself. "let me take you home, hardwick. you are not fit to go by yourself." hardwick was as amazed as the man who made this offer. "i didn't think you would bother about me in that way," he said weakly: then he straightened himself with an effort. "thank you all the same, but i can manage!" and giving his preserver a friendly handshake, he moved along the path which meandered towards polwellin. the squire stood looking after him, thinking that he might fall again and require further assistance. but the tall figure moved steadily through the mists, apparently possessed of sufficient vital power to reach the haven of home in safety. then the squire thoughtfully resumed his way to don pablo's cottage, wondering at the discovery he had made. hardwick looked so strong and well, and was so massive and imposing in appearance, that no one could possibly have guessed that his heart was weak. but enistor did not wonder at this alone: he wondered also at his own kind offer to go out of his way to help any one in distress. it was rather a weak thing to do, he reflected, and not at all an action of which narvaez would approve. all the same enistor resolved to tell the spaniard if only for his own glorification. don pablo was seated by a huge fire in his sinister study, with a paper in his hands covered with odd signs and hieroglyphics. with his usual serenity he murmured a welcome and pointed to a chair. but he did not speak further for the moment and enistor employed the time in trying to read the inscrutable face, which was seamed with a thousand wrinkles and made quite inhuman by the passionless look of the cold, steady, blue eyes. shortly the old man laid the paper aside with a sigh of satisfaction. "what are you doing?" asked enistor curiously. "i have been casting hardwick's horoscope," was the unexpected reply. "for the satisfaction of his own curiosity he gave me the day and hour of his birth," he smiled in a cruel way. "i don't think he will be pleased at what i have to tell him." a telepathic message passed swiftly from one trained brain to the other and enistor nodded in a surprised manner. "he may die at any moment," said the squire, translating don pablo's thoughts. "well, that is very likely. i found him unconscious on the moor a short time ago." "he is not dead?" questioned narvaez, with unusual interest. "oh no. i revived him with water and some brandy he had in his pocket. also i offered to see him home." "why?" demanded the other coldly. "well, he seemed weak and----" "how often have i told you that other people's troubles do not concern you, enistor! if you choose to waste your powers on assisting weaker persons, you will lose much force better employed in your own gain." "i am not quite so hard as you are," snapped the squire, sharply. "not quite so wise, you mean," was the unmoved response. "however, i pardon your weakness on this occasion, as i don't want hardwick to die--yet." "do you wish him to die at all?" "my last word implied that i did. it is part of my plan to get the fortune you desire, which also means that i shall secure your daughter as my wife." "but i don't see----" "there is no need for you to see," said narvaez tyrannically; "you do what i tell you and all will be well." "do you mean to kill hardwick?" "no! there is no need for me to move a finger. his horoscope shows an early death from natural causes. having found him unconscious, i leave you to guess what those causes will be." "i have no need to guess. hardwick's heart is weak." "exactly. the organs of his body are healthy, but he has not a sufficiently strong heart. if he could get a fresh supply of vitality he would be a powerful and _long-lived_ man." "do you intend to give him that vitality?" sneered the visitor. narvaez chuckled. "yes! you will see that splendid body walking about filled with strenuous life some day soon." "the body walking about." enistor stared keenly at the mocking, cruel face. "i must say you speak very strangely." "i speak as i speak, and what i mean to say i say," rejoined don pablo enigmatically. "let us change the subject, as i am busy. your errand?" "i only came to get the taste of that young prig out of my mouth!" "and waste my time. why can't you rely on your own strength? i am not going to have you here draining mine, particularly when this body i have at present is so frail. act the courteous host and give the young fool as much of your daughter's company as he desires. the rest can be left to me." "but when are you going to move in the matter?" "when the time is ripe and when i choose. how often am i to tell you that it is impossible to hurry things? corn takes time to grow: a rose takes time to unfold, and everything in the visible and invisible world progresses inch by inch, step by step. nature, as you should know by this time, is a tortoise and not a kangaroo." "there is another reason why i came," said enistor, accepting the rebuke with a meekness foreign to his nature; "that fisherman--trevel!" "well? he is annoyed because i give the girl jewels, and waken her ambition to be something better than a domestic drudge." "his annoyance extends to an intention to kill you," said enistor dryly. "i advise you to be careful, master. trevel is dangerous." "dangerous!" narvaez spoke with supreme contempt. "you know what i am and yet talk of danger to me from an ignorant boor. i could guard myself in a hundred ways if i so chose. but," ended narvaez deliberately, "i do not choose." "i wonder what you mean?" "you may wonder. threatened men live long. content yourself with that proverb. and now go; i am busy!" without a word enistor rose and walked to the door. there he paused to say a few words not complimentary to narvaez, and he said them with a black look of suppressed rage. "you treat me like a dog," snarled the weaker man. "be careful that i do not bite you like a dog." "i trust you as little as any one else, and am always on my guard," said the magician mildly, and stared in a cold sinister way at his pupil. enistor felt a wave of some cruel force surge against him--a force which struck him with the dull stunning blows of a hammer, and which twisted his nerves so sharply that but for dogged pride he would have shrieked with pain. as it was he writhed and grew deadly pale, the sweat beading his brow showing what agony he suffered. hours seemed to be concentrated into that one long minute during which narvaez held him in the vice of his will, and made him suffer the torments of the damned. "i beat my dog when he bites," said an unemotional voice. "go!" and enistor, conquered by supreme pain, crept away in silence. as the door closed, he heard his master chuckle like a parrot over a piece of cake. the squire returned painfully to tremore, cursing himself for having been such a fool as to defy a man possessed of super-physical powers. twice before he had done so, and each time don pablo had inflicted torments. the man, more learned than an ordinary hypnotist, simply used in a greater degree the will and suggestion which such a one employs. a hypnotist can make his subject believe that he has toothache, or has taken poison, by insisting with superior force that he shall so believe. narvaez, more learned in the laws which govern this creation, compelled enistor in this way to feel the torments of a heretic on the rack, without resorting to the ordinary necessity of casting his subject into a hypnotic trance. if enistor had concentrated his will, he could have repelled the suggestion, but he had not the terrific power of concentration which ages of exercise had given don pablo. he was in the presence of a powerful influence, directed by an equally powerful will, and therefore had no weapons with which to fight his dark master. in a fury enistor wished that he could make narvaez suffer in the same degree, but he knew that he could never hope to do so. even if he became possessed of knowledge, of concentration, and of a more powerful will than was human, the spaniard knew of ways which could baffle the attack. the sole consolation which enistor had to pacify his wounded pride was that there was no disgrace in a mere mortal being beaten by a superman. narvaez, in a minor degree, was a god, a very evil god, and those worshippers who did not obey him felt very speedily what their deity could do. enistor had no wish to measure forces with so powerful a being again. for the rest of that week he left the magician alone and devoted himself to entertaining his guest. it was impossible to induce narvaez to act until he chose to act, and all that could be done was to obey his instructions and behave agreeably to montrose, so that the visitor might be lulled into false security. never was there so amiable a host as the squire; never was there so genial a companion, and douglas became quite fascinated with a personality which transcended his own. the young man was so much weaker than his host that the latter wondered why narvaez did not compel him to surrender the fortune by putting forth resistless power. had enistor guessed that montrose's desire to do good and to love every one nullified the evil spell, he would have wondered less. and at the same time enistor would have understood how, not having unselfish love in his own breast, he lay open to the assaults of the magician. as he treated others so he was treated, and a realisation of this golden truth would have enabled him to defy narvaez and his suggestions. but the mere fact that he wished to exercise the same might-over-right free-lance law prevented his understanding how to defend himself from a more accomplished devil. and don pablo was as much a devil as there is possible to be one, since he wholly obeyed the instincts, carefully fostered, of hate and selfishness. enistor was a very minor devil indeed, as he had too much of the milk of human kindness in him as yet to equal or rival the superior fiend. in his determination to act his comedy thoroughly, enistor went to the great length of asking the vicar and his wife to dinner. as mr. sparrow had never before been invited to break bread under the squire's roof, he was extremely surprised by the unexpected honour. at first he was minded to decline, since enistor never came to church and never took the least interest in matters connected with the parish. but mrs. sparrow pointed out that this desire for their company might be a sign of grace, and that if they went, it might entail the reformation of their host. also the dinner was sure to be good, and she could wear her new dress in decent society, which she very rarely had an opportunity of doing. urged in this way and having a certain amount of curiosity of his own regarding the splendours of the big house, mr. sparrow sent an acceptance in his neat oxford calligraphy. the squire gave it to his daughter and told her to order the dinner. "see that it is a good one," said enistor genially. "sparrow is as lean as a fasting friar and won't object to a decent meal for once. it isn't lent or any of their confounded church feasts, is it?" "no!" answered alice, very much puzzled by this unusual behaviour; "but why do you ask mr. and mrs. sparrow to dinner? i thought you didn't like them." "i don't! they are a couple of bores. but it is rather dull here for montrose, and we must get what society we can to cheer him up." "i think douglas is very well satisfied with my company," retorted the girl, rather nettled by the implied slight, "and these two bores, as you call them, certainly will not amuse him." "very well; ask hardwick also. he isn't a bore and montrose likes him." "julian isn't very well, father. he hasn't been since you found him on the moor fainting. but i shall send the invitation. shall you ask señor narvaez?" "no!" said her father sharply and uneasily, for his body still tingled with the memory of don pablo's reproof. "i shan't submit him to the ordeal of enduring so dull a set of people." "complimentary to us all," said alice dryly, then regretted the retort; "i am sure you wish to make things pleasant for douglas." "of course! i wish him to stay here as long as he likes," said enistor, with an emphasis which she could not quite understand. "see that everything is all right, my dear. i want the dinner-party to be a success." rather amazed at the way in which her usually selfish father sacrificed himself, alice consulted the housekeeper, and made all preparations for this rare festivity. when the evening came, the parson and his wife duly arrived and at their heels followed hardwick, who had willingly accepted the chance of an evening in the company of alice, whom he loved as a sister, and montrose, who appealed to him as an unusually agreeable and decent fellow. the squire welcomed his guests cordially, and took mrs. sparrow in to dinner. she was a faded, colourless woman with a washed-out appearance, markedly accentuated by the gauzy grey dress she wore. alice in a delicate pink frock, which set off her evasive beauty to great advantage, looked like a fresh sunrise beside a wet, misty autumn day. douglas could not keep his eyes off her and hardwick was equally pressing in his attentions. "but you must not over-tax your strength, julian," said alice, when she found herself at the dinner-table between the artist and mr. sparrow, who had escorted her thereto. "oh, i am all right now," replied hardwick, "no better and no worse than i ever was. you were surprised when your father told you?" "i was greatly grieved, julian. and it seems so strange that a big man such as you are should be so delicate. you should see a doctor." "i have seen several, but they can do me no good," said the artist sadly. "in every way i am healthy, so there is nothing to cure. all i lack is what they cannot give me, and that is a new supply of life-force." "if it is vitality you want, hardwick," said montrose, speaking across the table, "you should consult dr. eberstein, who is coming down shortly to perchton. he is wonderful in many ways and i am certain he would do you good." "he cannot breathe more breath of life into a man than what that man already has," said mr. sparrow, in a tone of sad rebuke. "god alone is able to do that." "therefore," murmured mrs. sparrow, in an equally sad tone, "you should pray for strength, mr. hardwick. we are told to do so." "i thought that was spiritual strength?" "and what more do you want?" replied the lady, forgetting the exact point under discussion. "let us watch and pray lest we fall into temptation." "my dear!" murmured the vicar in an undertone, for he felt that this conversation was too professional for the occasion. "quite so," said mrs. sparrow, taking the hint, and did not open her mouth for some time save to eat and drink. all the same she watched for an opportunity to lead the conversation towards such religious topics as she and her husband were interested in. this was to be done with a view of surprising the squire with the extent of her husband's knowledge. now she had managed to enter the big house, she did not intend to go out again in a hurry. enistor was a valuable parishioner, and if he could be brought to defer to mr. sparrow much could be done with him and with his money. the table looked charming with its snow-white napery, on which glittered crystal and silver, while the dinner-service was a thing of beauty. the scarlet and golden autumn leaves which decorated the board, the mellow light of the many wax candles, the well-cooked food and the delicious wines, all impressed the vicar's wife greatly. she even felt a little angry that such a heathen as the squire surely was should possess these luxuries, while mr. sparrow--capable of being a bishop in her opinion--was content with unlovely surroundings and plain viands, prepared in anything but an inviting way by their one servant. no, not content--that was the wrong word to use. he put up with ascetic living, while the wicked--meaning mr. enistor--lived on the fat of the land. it was enough to shake the faith of a christian lady in the fairness of things. and truth to tell, mrs. sparrow, in spite of her anxious faith, frequently doubted if the world was governed justly. she and her husband did all that the bible told them to do in the way of living uprightly and unselfishly, therefore they should certainly long before this have sat under their own fig-tree, possessing beeves and lands according to the promise. as it was, they were as poor as rats, or rather as church mice, which seemed to be the more ecclesiastical comparison. clearly there was something wrong somewhere in the way in which mundane matters were ordered. meantime, the squire had started mr. sparrow on archæology, as the best way of keeping him off theology, and the parson was talking eagerly about a certain red granite heart, inscribed with weird signs, which he had dug up on the hill where the roman camp was to be seen. "near the cottage of that spanish gentleman," he explained precisely. "i know," said enistor; and indeed he knew the hill very well in a way of which mr. sparrow would scarcely have approved. "there is a druidical altar there," went on the clergyman eagerly, "and i have no doubt many dreadful sacrifices took place there in the old days. this heart--which i shall be delighted to show you if you call at the vicarage, mr. enistor--no doubt had to do with the terrible rites." "earlier than that," put in montrose unexpectedly, "the heart was the symbol of the atlantean race, as the cross is the symbol of the aryan. the hieroglyphics on it mean doubtless the sacred word 'tau.' aum is the sacred word of our present people." "tau! aum! atlantean!" echoed sparrow, much perplexed. "what do you mean?" "it would take too long to explain, sir. dr. eberstein, who told me about these things, is the best person to consult." "i wish to consult no one," said the parson, drawing himself up. "i believe the heart to be a symbol of the druids." "a symbol of atlantis rather," insisted montrose; "this very land on which we are was part of the great continent of atlantis." "a mere fable, sir. you are thinking of the myth which plato mentions." "it is no myth, but an actual truth, mr. sparrow. atlantis did exist and was overwhelmed by that flood you will find mentioned in the bible." "absurd! the name of atlantis is not mentioned in holy scripture. there is no proof that what plato says is true." "this much proof, that as far back as archæologists can go the civilisation of egypt was in full swing. where did that civilisation come from?" "it grew up in the valley of the nile." "certainly, but the beginnings were brought to the valley of the nile by a highly civilised race. remember it was the egyptian priests who told plato about atlantis. they knew, because egypt was a colony of that mighty continent. there was another colony in central america, and you will find the vast ruins of its cities described in a book by désiré charnay. the civilisation of mexico and peru destroyed by the spaniards was the last remains of the splendour of the atlanteans." "where did you hear all this, mr. montrose?" asked the squire quickly. "from dr. eberstein. you can ask him for yourself when he comes down." "i should like to meet him," said mr. sparrow primly, "but i do not think that i shall agree with a single word he says." "then why ask him?" asked montrose, very naturally. "to confute him, sir. what we know of the early world is all contained in genesis. there is no mention of atlantis there, although there is of egypt." "what about the chronology of the bible? it has been proved, mr. sparrow--and you as an archæologist must admit this--that the civilisation of egypt extends further back than the date given in genesis as the beginning of the world. what do you say to that?" "i could say a great deal," retorted the parson, whose archæological knowledge was always struggling with his religious beliefs; "but this is not the time or the place to say more. when dr. eberstein, who is your authority for these startling statements, arrives i shall be happy to thresh the matter out with him. it will be an intellectual pleasure. i get few opportunities of that sort down here." "that is very probable," said hardwick, nodding; "your parishioners are a good sort, but not very learned." "they have no need to be learned, mr. hardwick. let them fulfil their daily task, and be satisfied with the position in which they have been placed." "if they take your advice," said the squire dryly, "there will be no chance of their rising in the world." "why should they try to rise?" demanded mrs. sparrow, coming to her husband's aid. "well, my dear lady, it is said that the common or garden millionaire usually starts his pile with the proverbial halfpenny. if he accepted your husband's ruling, he would never attempt to rise." "it is divinely ordained that some people must be high and some low." "rather hard on the low people. i think every one should be dissatisfied, myself: that is the only thing that makes for progress." "did you promulgate this extraordinary doctrine in the village, mr. enistor?" "no!" replied the squire, glancing at the parson, who spoke. "why?" "because some of my parishioners are very dissatisfied indeed. mrs. trevel was hard up last winter, and prayed for money. she did not get it, and told me that she did not intend to pray any more, as it seemed useless." "and what explanation did you give her?" asked alice anxiously. "i was horrified at her impiety, miss enistor, as any right-minded person would be." "of course," murmured montrose ironically, "how dare she ask for money when she was hard up." mr. sparrow took no notice of him. "i told her that god thought she required discipline and that she must not complain." "why should she require discipline rather than a millionaire?" asked julian. "she may have more original sin in her," said mr. sparrow, floundering in a bog and getting quite out of his depth. "well," said montrose grimly, "if according to your teaching, mr. sparrow, we all start as brand-new souls, given a set of circumstances over which we have no control at the outset, and with the same goal of heaven or hell at the end, it seems to me that every one ought to start at scratch." "not at all," said the parson, doggedly illogical, "some are rich and some are poor; some are clever and some are stupid; some are ill and some are well. it is all divinely ordained." "but so unfair," urged julian, seeing the absurdity of the speech. "what, sir, shall the clay say to the potter what it wants to be?" "i really don't see why the clay shouldn't," put in mr. enistor, who liked to see the parson driven into a corner, "especially when the clay has nerves." "all is divinely ordained," repeated mr. sparrow piously, "we must not murmur. i regard mrs. trevel as a most impious person for daring to rebel when her prayers are not answered." "i told her that," said his wife, "and she only laughed." "bitterly, i expect," murmured montrose; "poor soul, i shall give her some money in the morning." "no, don't," said mr. sparrow. "it will only confirm her in disbelief." "on the contrary it will restore her faith," remarked the squire coolly, "as it will show that her prayers are answered after all." mr. sparrow had nothing to say after this, although he greatly longed to preach a sermon to those present. but not being in the pulpit he feared lest his statements should be contradicted by these ribald people. therefore he wisely held his tongue on religious subjects for the rest of the evening. on the way home, however, he made one scathing remark to his wife. "they are all atheists, jane. just the kind i expected to find under the roof of a man who does not come to church." chapter xiv preparation on the morning of the third day after the dinner, montrose received a letter from dr. eberstein saying that he was arriving in perchton that same evening. at once the young man decided to see his friend at the watering-place and stay there for the night. he was anxious to tell the doctor how enistor's character had been misunderstood, and what an agreeable man he was to live with. also he asked the squire if he could bring back eberstein for a few hours' visit, to which enistor heartily agreed. the schemer was looking forward to meeting the man--if he was simply a man and not something greater--whom narvaez called "the adversary." confident of receiving support from don pablo, the squire was anxious to come to grips with the opposing power that wished to thwart his plans. the suspense of the delay in any decided action being taken chafed enistor considerably, and he wished to arrive at the desired conclusion as swiftly as possible. narvaez advised waiting and enistor rejected the advice. he had not the inexhaustible patience of his master. alice suggested that as hardwick was going on that day to perchton to consult a doctor about his health, douglas should accompany him. the artist as usual had borrowed his rich friend's motor-car, and when a message was sent to him, replied that he would be delighted to have montrose with him. to avoid the necessity of the car climbing the hill to tremore, douglas went down to polwellin with a medium-sized bag, containing what necessaries he required for his night's absence. alice walked with him, and they left the bag at hardwick's lodgings, where the car was to arrive some time during the afternoon. it was already long after midday, and having to get rid of an hour of waiting, the girl proposed that they should call on dame trevel. "you said you would help her, douglas," she reminded him. "of course. i should have seen her on the morning after the dinner, when i told mr. sparrow that i would give her money. it was wrong of me not to keep my promise. the vicar will think that i am like every one else, and say much but do little." "i don't think the vicar will think anything about the matter," said alice candidly. "mrs. trevel is a heretic in his eyes!" "simply because she won't believe blindly against her better reason. there is a great want of logic about priestly authority. with the teachers of exoteric knowledge it is 'obey or be damned!' which is something like the reported motto of the french revolution: 'be my brother, or i'll kill you.'" "but mr. sparrow is a good man, douglas." "i admitted long ago that he was a good man, my dear. but a good man with a limited understanding can do more harm than a bad man. there are other ways of teaching a child than by boxing his ears until he is stupid with pain." "i don't think dame trevel would like to be called a child," said alice, with an amused laugh. "my dear, the majority of human beings _are_ children. the longer i live, the more i see that. i am a child myself in many ways, although, as eberstein is widening my limitations, i am beginning to grow up. children," montrose spoke half to himself and half to his companion, "what else? instead of cake and toys, we want gold and lands, and power and pleasure. whether we deserve them or not we clamour for them, just like a child. we become cross when things don't go as we wish them, and slap the bad naughty table that has hurt baby in the shape of anything which impedes our getting what we desire. good lord, how can any man be angry with another man, when he knows that his enemy is but a child? but to know that one must be more than a child oneself." "do you call me a child?" asked alice, pouting. at the very door of dame trevel's cottage montrose bent to kiss her. "a very charming child, who shall never be put into the corner by me." "you talk as though you were the only wise man in existence." "yes!" assented montrose, laughing. "i speak as though i were the judge of the earth instead of being a denizen. la rochefoucauld says that. go in, alice, and let us get our interview over. we haven't overmuch time." mrs. trevel received her visitors in a clean little room, poorly furnished but fairly comfortable. she was a gaunt old creature, london born and london bred, so she did not speak in the cornish way. but indeed, thanks to the authority of school-boards, the local dialects are fast disappearing, and the girl idly remembered at the moment how ordinary was the wording of rose penwin and her fisherman-lover. the sight of dame trevel seated in her big chair suggested the names, as the absence of the west country shibboleth in her speech suggested the thought of the younger generation whose dialect had been, so to speak, wiped out. the old woman was glad, as usual, to see her nursling and highly approved of the handsome young man who was to marry her, as all polwellin knew by this time. "i hope it will be all sunshine with you two," said mrs. trevel, when her visitors were seated. "and that you'll live to see your children's children playing about your knees, my dears." "with alice beside me it is bound to be sunshine," replied douglas heartily. "she is an angel." "ah, my young sir, men always call women so before marriage; but what do they call them afterwards?" "that depends mainly on the woman, i fancy," said montrose dryly. "a wife can make her husband whatever she chooses." "a silk purse out of a sow's ear," retorted miss enistor saucily. "but douglas and i understand one another, nurse, and there will be no cause for quarrels." "i wish i could say the same about my lad and the girl he has set his heart on marrying," sighed dame trevel, laying down her knitting and removing her spectacles. "it's more her fault than his, though. rose is a flighty piece." "she won't listen to reason," said alice, shaking her head wisely. "does any woman ever listen to reason?" inquired montrose with a shrug. "from a man she won't; but from a woman she will. don't be cynical. but i have talked to rose without success," ended alice, turning to her nurse. "so have i, my dearie, and then she told me to mind my own business; as if it wasn't my business to see that my lad got a decent wife." "there's no real harm in rose," cried alice hastily. "i'm not saying there is. but why she should take jewels from that foreign gentleman and make job wild, i don't understand." "women are fond of jewels," suggested douglas. "and why not if they get them in the right way?" snapped mrs. trevel ungraciously. "but rose is to marry my lad, and he don't want her visiting that old gentleman and taking presents." "old is the word, nurse," said alice swiftly. "job can't be jealous." "but he is, and his jealousy is dangerous, just as his father's was before him, dearie. and the foreign gentleman puzzles me," added the old woman, taking up her knitting again. "they did say he was to marry you, my love--by your father's wish, i swear, and never by your own will. december and may. ha! a pretty match that would be." "i marry douglas and no one else, nurse, whatever my father may say or do." "he's a dour gentleman is the squire," said mrs. trevel, shaking her head, "and not pleasant to cross. he never treated your mother well, and she faded like a delicate flower blown upon by cold winds. to me, dearie, he behaves cruel in the way of rent, for all my bringing you up." "he doesn't mean to," said alice, distressed, and driven to defending her father, although she knew only too well his high-handed methods with tenants who could not or would not pay. "out of the fullness of the heart the mouth speaketh," quoted mrs. trevel in a sour way. "if he doesn't mean it, why does he do it?" "do what?" "says he'll turn me out bag and baggage if i don't pay the rent," cried the old woman excitedly. "how can i when the fishing's been bad and job can't earn enough to keep things going? i make a trifle by my knitting, but that won't boil the pot. and winter's approaching too. oh, what's to be done?" montrose glanced at alice and handed a piece of paper to the speaker. "pay the rent with that, and use what is over to buy food and coal." mrs. trevel grasped the banknote, with a vivid spot of colour on each faded cheek, and could scarcely speak in her excitement. "what is it: oh, what is it?" "the answer to your prayer," said alice, rising and looking solemn. "my prayer! why, it's a fifty-pound note. oh, sir, i can't take such a large sum of money from you." "it is not from me," said montrose hastily. "i am merely the instrument. god sends the money because you asked him to help you." the tears fell down the worn old face. "and i told the passon as it wasn't no use praying," she moaned regretfully. "well, you see it is. he takes his own time and means, but in the end every petition receives the answer he deems best. thank him, mrs. trevel." "i thank him, and i thank you too, sir. bless you, how the sight of this money do set my mind at rest. if it wasn't for job and the contrary ways of that silly girl i'd be as happy as an angel." "pray for job and rose," advised alice gently. "well, it do seem worth it, dearie. if he sends me this, he may turn rose into a reasonable girl, which she isn't at present." mrs. trevel was about to put away her treasure-trove when she hesitated. "should i take it, miss alice?" "yes. of course you must take it. mr. montrose is rich and can well afford to give it to you." "and the riches i have," said douglas quietly, "are but given to me as a steward of christ to dispense according to his will." he did not say this priggishly, although to an ordinary man of the world such a way of regarding wealth would seem priggish. nine people out of ten would have considered the speech as one made for effect, but alice was the tenth and knew the absolutely impersonal way in which her lover looked at the money. with joyful tears dame trevel showered blessings on the young couple when they left her house, and was a happy woman for the rest of the day. even the prospect of rose's behaviour rousing job's jealousy to the extent of leading to serious trouble ceased to cause her anxiety for the moment. angels had come and left their gifts behind them. the old woman resolved to go to the vicarage and confess with penitent tears that she had been wrong to doubt the efficacy of prayer. "do you really regard yourself as christ's steward?" asked alice, when the two were on their way to julian's lodgings, more from curiosity than because she doubted. "yes. i thought you knew me well enough to believe so, darling. of course when you are my wife i shall use the money to make us both comfortable, and we shall have even the luxuries of life. but we must share our good fortune with less fortunate people." "why not sell all we have and give it to the poor?" "i suppose there comes a stage when one does that," mused montrose, more to himself than to the girl. "but i have not yet reached that point. i know what poverty is in its most sordid aspect, and i don't wish to undergo the experience again. the most i can do is to share----" he paused, then went on in a doubtful manner: "i expect the blessed one knew that the young man who had great possessions, to whom he said that, was a miser. he was perfect in all ways, but he loved money." "the bible doesn't say so," insisted alice quickly. "i am reading between the lines, dear. and if christ gives any one wealth to administer as a steward, what would be the use of the steward nullifying his office by getting rid at one sweep of what he has to administer? it's a hard saying in any case, alice. i must ask eberstein what he thinks about the matter. besides, my dear----" he hesitated and closed his lips. "well?" asked the girl, curiously. "nothing," answered douglas, as alice had answered on a previous occasion, but there was a puzzled and rather pained look in his eyes as he spoke the word. the car was already standing at the door of julian's lodgings and julian himself was already in the vehicle. while montrose bundled in beside him, alice stared at the artist and laughed at his healthy looks, for he seemed to have entirely recovered from his experience on the moors. "what a fraud you are, julian, talking about your heart being weak," she said in a jesting manner. "you look big and strong and healthy. your eyes are bright, your colour is ruddy and you are the picture of a samson." julian nodded gaily. "i feel like a samson to-day," he said, tucking the rug about his companion's legs and his own. "sometimes, as at present, i could jump over the moon. at other times you could knock me down with a feather." "how strange," said the girl thoughtfully. "man's a queer animal," cried douglas lightly, and waved his hand as the big car got under way. "i'll be back to-morrow, dear. think of me!" and he smiled at miss enistor's bright face, little guessing what it would look like when he next set eyes on its beauty. shortly they were clear of the village and spinning along the winding levels towards the watering-place. julian, as alice had noted, was full of life, and chatted a great deal about this thing and that. also he asked montrose questions about the teaching of eberstein, since his curiosity had been aroused long since by some of the apparently odd things which the young man said so simply and serenely. it was not the first time that they had conversed on the subject of reincarnation and its kindred associations. julian was not prepared to accept what he termed the theory of successive lives as gospel, and wanted physical proof for super-physical knowledge. this, as montrose assured him, was absurd. "when you are able to leave your body consciously and enter into the unseen world, you will be given positive proof regarding the truth of reincarnation and the law of cause and effect, which is termed karma by eastern teachers. but until that time comes you must accept both laws on logical grounds, since they alone explain without a flaw the riddles of life." "can _you_ leave your body consciously?" asked the artist with scepticism. "no! i shall some day, as eberstein is training me. but you can't hurry the hour and you can't delay the hour. you have just to wait." "it requires immense patience." "immense," assented douglas, "but if you want a big thing you have to do big things to get it. only by living the life of christ can you attain to the christ-like powers. love, purity, unselfishness, serenity, kindness of thought and word and action: these things arouse the latent faculties which, inherent in every man, enable him to come into contact with other worlds. these are the laws of the kingdom of heaven by which one acquires the powers." julian thought for a few moments. "i had a talk with narvaez the other day," he said after a pause, "and he offered to cast my horoscope. he seems, so far as i can judge in my limited way, to have powers beyond the reach of the ordinary man. does he practise love and unselfishness and all the rest of the necessary requirements?" "no!" said montrose decidedly. "i don't think narvaez is a good man, although i have no positive reason to say that he is a bad one. but an evil man--i am not speaking of don pablo, understand--can gain some of the power of the kingdom by sheer force of will. christ says: 'he that entereth not by the door into the sheepfold, but climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a robber!' so those who get in otherwise than through christ the door of the sheep--the door of love, that is--are the evil people who acquire super-physical powers by strength of will, and make use of them selfishly. it is black magic to do that. but those who follow the master and enter through him, as the door, by living the prescribed life to which i have referred, get the powers. but these use them for the benefit of others and not to aggrandise themselves. that is white magic." "it seems strange to use the word 'magic' in connection with christ." "the word has become polarised," said montrose indifferently, "you can call anything that happens by working an unknown law of nature 'a miracle,' or 'a wonder,' or 'a magical performance.' the one who performs such exceptional things, of course, can exercise the unknown law i speak of." "christ, being superhuman, could," argued hardwick seriously, "because he had wisdom without measure. but the ordinary man----" "if the ordinary man loves christ and keeps his commandments and walks in his footsteps, he can gain knowledge of the power to work what are termed miracles. the master said so himself, when his disciples marvelled at his doings, and told them that if they followed him they would do greater things. as you know, some of the apostles did work miracles in his name. they learned by living the life how to use the laws rightly, by means of the power of love which came through the blessed one." "you appear to know a lot about these things, montrose?" "indeed, i know very little. eberstein can give much, but i cannot take all he is willing to give, because my understanding is yet limited. but everything will come in time. i must wait patiently." this interesting conversation was necessarily ended when the car reached perchton, and the young men parted for the time being. douglas sought out the hotel where eberstein was staying, while hardwick went in search of his doctor. the artist arranged to meet eberstein later, as montrose was anxious he should do so, if only to gain an answer to certain questions. the young man being a neophyte could not explain much that julian desired to know. but he was positive that eberstein could and would answer all questions, as he never withheld any knowledge from a sincere inquirer. in a quiet hotel, high up on the cliffs, the doctor occupied a light and airy sitting-room, delightfully peaceful and cheerful and bright. through the expansive windows could be seen the calm waters of the bay, with little wavelets breaking on the crescent of yellow sand, and the tall white column of the lighthouse shooting up from the reddish-hued rocks of the promontory. montrose, after early greetings had taken place, noted none of these things, but flung himself into the nearest chair, feeling unaccountably weary. eberstein, who had welcomed his young friend in his usual sincere and kindly manner, looked at him keenly, as he observed the boy's wilted appearance. "you seem to be tired," he remarked gently. "well, i am," admitted montrose, with a perplexed expression. "i don't know why i should be, as i slept all right last night and came here in a comfortable motor-car." "whom did you come with?" "a fellow called hardwick, who is an artist. a really capital chap, who is a first-rate friend. he got the car from some one he knows and gave me a lift." "is he ill?" asked eberstein, after a pause. "strange you should ask that. he isn't ill, and he isn't well; that is, he suffers from a weak heart--not enough vitality. he is seeing a doctor." "i understand." "you understand what?" montrose stared. "why you look tired. in quite an unconscious way, this hardwick has been drawing the vitality out of you." "can that be done?" "oh, yes! the weaker body frequently replenishes its life forces from any stronger body that is at hand. you have heard it said how old age eats up youth. that is a great truth." "david and abishag," murmured montrose wearily. then he opened his eyes with an astonished look. "i am growing stronger." eberstein smiled in an understanding manner. "i am giving you strength, and strength you will need very shortly, i assure you." "you said in london that trouble was coming. but so far everything is all right. enistor is an extremely pleasant man, who quite approves of my marriage with alice. we get on capitally together." "was your first impression of him pleasant?" "no! i disliked him no end when we first met. but as there was no reason for me to do so i grew to like him." "ah!" said the doctor with a world of meaning, "second thoughts are not always best. have you met the man who wanted to marry alice?" "narvaez? yes! he's a beast. i shall never get over my dislike for him." "you must not dislike him or any one," corrected eberstein softly. "pity narvaez and pity enistor, but be on your guard against both." "what can they do?" asked montrose, with the disdainful confidence of youth. "enistor can do nothing alone. directed by narvaez he can do much. and he will," concluded the doctor with emphasis. "does the trouble you predicted come from that quarter?" "yes!" "well, it is two against two. alice and i can fight her father and narvaez." "don't be over-confident, or you will invite disaster," said the doctor dryly. "there is much doing of which you know nothing. that is why i am here to aid you, my friend. i cannot do everything, as a great deal has to be done by you and alice with what intuition and strength you possess. with alice the ordeal has already commenced." montrose started to his feet. "is she in danger?" he asked excitedly. "if so, i must go back to tremore at once." "there is no need. what she has to do must be done alone, and you would do her more harm than good by going to her assistance. hitherto i have protected her with my strength, which has increased her own. now for a certain time that strength has been withdrawn. narvaez will know the moment i cease to guard her." "what will he do?" demanded the young man, clenching his fists. "nothing that physical strength can deal with, so don't get ready to fight, my friend. narvaez will not hurt the girl, but he will endeavour to learn from her something he has long wished to know. it is necessary that he should know and that his pupil should know also. therefore, for a time he is permitted to work his will. there! there! he will only make use of her clairvoyant powers, so she will suffer little." "i don't want her to suffer at all." "unless she does in some degree, she will not progress." "narvaez is such a beast." "no. he is only a man blinded by pride in his intellectual knowledge. you must pity him for his blindness and do your best to help him. hate only ceases when love is used to vanquish it. calm yourself, montrose. what must be must be if the will of god is to be done." "i wish you hadn't told me," cried the young man, greatly agitated. "that is a weak thing to say. i told you purposely, so that you may develop faith and patience. can you not trust me?" "yes! yes! yes!" "then show it by waiting quietly here until i tell you to return to tremore, my friend. this is the time of preparation to meet and baffle the trouble i warned you against. stand in the strength of christ and not in your own strength. he never fails those who trust in him. to-morrow morning you must come with me to early celebration. by partaking of the body and blood of the blessed one"--eberstein made the sign of the cross--"you will gain the necessary strength to stand up bravely against the powers of darkness." "narvaez?" eberstein bowed his stately head. "god pity him and save him," he murmured, with infinite compassion. chapter xv the trance a man on a suburban road at noonday, with the sun shining brilliantly, walks along thinking of his private affairs and heedless of surroundings. but when the toils of day are ended, and he proceeds along that same road in a darkness scarcely illuminated by a few lamps, his feelings are less comfortable. of course much depends upon the man being sensitive or stolid, but in any case this matters little in the present instance, as the illustration is merely used to symbolise the mental state of alice during the evening of her lover's absence. one moment she was clothed in the radiance of perfect security and peace; the next, and a dreadful gloom descended upon her bringing anguish and distress. naturally there was no physical change, but in some inexplicable way she felt that an inward light was quenched. alice had never read st. teresa's "castles of the soul," or the explanations of that terrible saint would have given her the key to her condition. as it was she felt as though the sun had fallen from the sky, and quailed in the dense darkness pricked with feeble lights which now surrounded her. little as she knew it, those same lights represented the sum of what experience she had gained with painful learning through many successive lives. the knowledge and attainments of eberstein, who had reached an infinitely higher level than herself, beamed in that splendour which had been withdrawn. but what little light she possessed and what greater light he had gained were only what each could receive of the true light "which lighteth every man that cometh into the world!" hitherto, eberstein had given for her use what glory he had earned; now--since the child must learn to walk alone if it ever hopes to come to maturity--he had stood aside for the moment, so that she could make the attempt with what strength she possessed. but alice did not know all this, and could only feel supremely wretched and forsaken. so listless did she feel that there was no energy in her to dress for dinner. for two hours she sat in the drawing-room, already darkened by the early gloom of the short autumnal day, longing to be in the haven of her lover's arms. her lonely soul cried aloud for human sympathy, for human protection, since the higher love seemed to have withdrawn itself, and she put forth all the longing of her being to call back douglas to her side. but no answer came. the gloom waxed denser, the silence became more oppressive, and all the girl could do was to concentrate her mind on christ and his saving grace. there was some comfort to be got in murmuring that holy name over and over again. she felt as though she were drowning in a bitterly salt sea under a leaden sky, and that despairing trust in the blessed one was the spar to which she clung in the hope of rescue. and unprotected as she was for the moment, save by her intuitive faith, she felt the evil forces of the house bear down upon her shuddering soul with terrific weight. she little knew how these destroying influences were being directed by a brother of the shadow, and as little did she guess that he would be permitted to go so far and no farther. knowledge of this state being a necessary ordeal would have helped her to bear it; but the ignorance which made her sufferings more acute was part of the ordeal itself. and silent, unseen, motionless, the powers of good watched her endurance of the test. in the library narvaez, in an extraordinary state of excitement for one so trained to serenity, was conversing hurriedly with his pupil. he had come over a quarter of an hour previously and was informing enistor of the girl's defenceless state. the adversary had withdrawn his protection, as don pablo knew in some mysterious way which he declined to explain to the squire, so now was the time to put forth the dark influence of evil and make use of the girl's clairvoyant powers. "they are untrained, it is true," said narvaez, striving to be calm, since he knew how much depended upon perfect self-control. "but she is so pure and so powerful in her purity that when i loosen her soul from the bonds of the flesh, she will be able to reach that exalted plane where she can read the past truthfully. information will come through little coloured by her personality. i assure you, enistor, as in so young and innocent a girl, it is not yet particularly strong. where is she?" "in the drawing-room! moping in the dark." "ah, she feels the absence of her guardian, and is greatly bewildered. all the better for our purpose." "how are you going to manage?" said the squire anxiously. "alice hates you, and will never submit to do anything for you." narvaez sneered. "but for the adversary, i should have dominated her long ago without difficulty. now that the protection has been withdrawn she is quite at the mercy of my superior knowledge and power. she can never oppose her will to mine, as she is ignorant and i am wise." "you won't hurt her," said enistor uneasily, and silently astonished with himself for giving way to such a kindly human feeling. "no. of course i won't," retorted the other impatiently. "i shall send her to find out what we want, and then recall her. why she is unsupported now i cannot learn; but certainly for the moment she has been left to walk alone. this is our hour, enistor, so let us make the best of it." "how do you intend to act?" questioned the father tensely. "place that arm-chair in the middle of the room: put the lamp behind yonder screen. i shall sit here by the window where she cannot see me: you take up your position near the fire. give me a saucer, a plate, a vase--anything." the squire obeyed these directions and sat down as instructed to watch the doings of don pablo. that gentleman, taking a red-hot coal from the fire, dropped it on a bronze saucer of indian workmanship which enistor had selected from amongst the ornaments on the mantelpiece. placing this on a small table which stood near the central chair, narvaez shook over the burning coal some special incense which he carried in a tiny golden box. at once a thick white smoke fumed upward, and the room was filled gradually with a stupefying fragrance. with the lamp behind the chinese screen, the apartment was only faintly illuminated by the red glow of the fire, which smouldered without flames in the grate. the spaniard moved about with an activity surprising in a man of his years, and when he had completed his preparations retreated into the darkness near the heavily curtained window. thence his voice came low, clear and piercing to the squire. "i am putting out my power to draw her here. tell her when she comes to sit in the arm-chair yonder. my influence and the scent of the incense will bring about the separation of the bodies, and she will go to the appointed place. you ask the questions, as my voice may move her to rebellion. keep your brain passive and i will impress upon you what i wish to ask. you have been already trained to be receptive in this way, so you know what to do." "yes!" breathed enistor, sitting well back in his chair and fixing his eyes on the library door, dimly seen in the reddish glow of the fire. narvaez did not waste time in replying, but the squire felt that he was now radiating a tremendous influence, which seemed to extend beyond the walls of the library and throughout the entire house. shortly, swift unhesitating footsteps were heard, and alice simply raced into the room, so speedily did she respond to the call. she had all her waking senses about her, and was puzzled to understand the impulse which had sent her headlong in search of her father. "do you want me?" she asked, with quick laboured breathing, for the oppression of the room was terrible. "why are you in the dark? what is the matter?" "i want to talk to you about montrose," said enistor softly. "sit down in that arm-chair over there." "about douglas!" alice, with a weary sigh, dropped into the central chair, near the table where the incense curled upward in faint grey spirals, not discernible in the half-light. a whiff of the scent made the girl drowsy, and closing her eyes, she rested her head on the back of the chair. the action brought her face nearer to the bronze dish, and with the next breath she inhaled a lung-ful of the burning perfume. with a choking sensation she strove to open her eyes and lean forward, but her body would not obey her will, and she rested, inert and powerless, where she was. there was a momentary struggle between spirit and matter, a sick sensation of loosened bonds, and then she found herself standing upright gazing at her motionless body lying in the chair. it was alive and breathing, for she saw the rise and fall of the breast, but she, in a similar body, stood apart from her physical vehicle, distinct, and--so far as she knew--unattached. before she had time to grasp the situation, the library vanished, and she was environed by a restless atmosphere of colour. it was as if she was clothed with the splendour of sunset, for there was no hard-and-fast outline; no visible form: all was cloud and colour, materials waiting to be shaped by the will into something which the soul desired. the silence was like a benediction of peace. "higher! higher!" said the far-away voice of her father. "seek out the past where it is to be found. see yourself and those you know, in other times, in other climes, in other flesh." there was a pause, and then came the telephonic voice again, repeating the orders of narvaez. "use for the past the names by which you and those you know are called to-day. higher! higher!" alice again felt that struggle of spirit and matter, and--no longer afraid as she had been--passed out of her second body to become conscious in a third one. now, as she knew intuitively, she moved in the sphere of tone, and everywhere rainbow light spoke in music, though still she wandered in a cloudy atmosphere as in the heart of a many-hued opal. wave after wave of murmuring light rolled over her, but there was no horizon, no boundaries, no up or down. she was in a dimension about which, as alice enistor, she knew nothing. but her eternal self knew that the place was familiar, as she--having stepped behind two veils of matter--knew the eternal self. "seek out the book of time," commanded the thin voice which directed her doings, and ghost of a sound as it was, it penetrated to her through the choral harmonies of the glorious music. in a moment everything as it were became solid, and she felt that she had dropped again to the earth. clothed in a larger and more majestic body than that she wore as alice enistor, she moved amidst familiar surroundings, knowing the landscape she moved through and the people whom she found herself amongst. then she was aware that she was still on a higher plane and had travelled in time through five thousand years to re-live for the moment an incarnation of the past. the book of time, as she dimly sensed it, was not a book, as the physical brain knows a book, but a state of consciousness. at this moment, when the rainbow had vanished and the music had ceased, and--as it might be--she was living amongst the living, her father's voice came for the third time. "what do you see? what do you do? who are you, and who are those you mingle with? speak!" so she was not entirely detached from her body of alice enistor after all, since a thin thread of light ran from where she was to where she had been when starting on the journey. down that thread of light--so it seemed--she sent her voice: telegraphed, or telephoned, all that her father wished to know. the necessary goal had been reached, the necessary communication between the mental and physical planes had been established, and she proceeded to reply, compelled by some unknown influence which forced her to speak. in the library narvaez wiped the perspiration from his bald forehead, and sighed heavily with the efforts he had made to bring things to this point. but he did not speak with his own tongue, lest the sound of his voice should reach the girl in those far-off regions and make her rebellious. silently he impressed his desires upon enistor, and softly enistor voiced those same desires, while he looked at the motionless figure of his daughter reclining in the deep arm-chair. "what do you see?" asked enistor, scarcely moving his lips, and in a thin silvery utterance, soft as a summer breeze, came the answer: "i am looking on chaldea, far back in the deeps of time. no--not looking: i am living in chaldea, as the priestess of a great star-angel." "the name of the star-angel?" "you would call him, mars, although he has a different name in chaldea. he is the planetary spirit of mars, and i serve in his temple. the chaldeans worship the host of heaven, as manifestations of the logos, whose visible symbol is the sun. the star-angels of the seven planets are the seven spirits before the throne, mentioned in the book of revelation. the logos is not the absolute god from whom emanated the universes, but the being whose body and creation is the solar system. he is the only god our consciousness can conceive. he is the one of this creation manifesting himself in the many: we are the many ever striving to return to him, by learning through experience how voluntarily to choose good instead of evil." "do the chaldeans worship the stars themselves?" "no. they worship the angels of the stars: the power inherent in each planet which emanates from the mightier power of the sun-logos. and his power emanates from the absolute god." "has each angel a temple?" "yes! and the logos has a temple also. these are all placed on a wide plain in a fashion symbolising the solar system: like an orrery. one collection of temples stands on one plain, another on another plain, and so on throughout chaldea. on this plain where i live there is the great temple of the sun and near it the temple of vulcan; next that of mercury, then that of venus, until the last temple far away in the distance is dedicated to neptune. the situations of the temples are reckoned to scale, and represent our system." "is there a temple to the earth-angel?" "no! there is one to the moon-angel, and near it a small dome of black marble typifying the earth. but it is not a shrine." "you are a priestess in the temple of mars?" "yes! i wear a brilliant scarlet dress. the priestesses of venus are in sky blue, and those of the moon are clothed in silver, while the priests of the sun wear cloth of gold. each star-angel has his particular colour, and each is worshipped in his own shrine. on great festivals all meet in the great sun-temple to worship the logos." there was a restless movement in don pablo's corner. enistor, overwhelmed with curiosity, was asking questions on his own account, thereby irritating his master, who wished for more intimate information. a twist of pain brought enistor to his senses, and he hastily submitted his will to that of narvaez. "do you see me?" was the next question asked, as instructed. "yes! you are the high priest of mars: a big fat man like a chinaman, with a rather cruel face. all the chaldeans are like chinese with yellow skins and oblong eyes." "perhaps they are chinese." "no! no. they are turanians, the ancestors of the mongolians. i am of the aryan race, and i don't like the turanians, who are brutal and lawless. perhaps that is why you are so cruel." "am i cruel? why am i cruel?" "you like power, and desire to see every one at your feet. i am a vestal of the temple gifted with clairvoyance, and you use me to foresee the future and learn about other spheres. all this knowledge you turn to your own advantage. oh, you are wicked. you really don't worship the star-angel." "whom or what do i worship then?" asked enistor, again breaking away from don pablo's guidance, as the picture drawn by the clairvoyante did not please him. "the powers of darkness: the elemental powers. sometimes you steal away from the temple after dark to see a very evil man, who is teaching you how to get power in a wrong way, through offering blood sacrifices." "who is the man?" questioned enistor, still using his own will, in spite of signals from narvaez. "he is don pablo now. then he was an atlantean magician: one of the lords of the dark face. you are his pupil, or rather his slave. he uses your intellect to make himself more powerful. there is some good in you, however, and you try to break away every now and then, but the chains that bind you are too strong." for the first time don pablo spoke in a quietly enraged tone. "stop asking questions on your own account, or i shall hurt you, enistor." a shiver passed through the body in the chair, as if that hated voice had penetrated even to where alice was, and had recalled the detestation in which she held the speaker. enistor was minded to rebel, but he swiftly considered that if he did so at the moment, he might break the spell, and then would not learn about the threatened danger. therefore, he was obedient and set himself to obey his evil master. narvaez became quiet again, and through his instrument asked another question. "do you live in the temple of mars?" "yes, along with other vestals. but none of them possess such great clairvoyant powers as i do, and that is why i am valuable to you. but you use my powers for bad purposes and i hate you. behind you there is don pablo, with his dark designs, but i am supported," her voice took on a note of triumph, "i am supported by a good man, who is a priest of the sun. he works for good, and is trying to take me away from your influence." "that is the adversary." "i don't know whom you mean by the adversary. but he is now dr. eberstein. oh, and i see douglas. he is a chaldean noble and he loves me. he wants to carry me away from the temple and from you, as you are killing me with the demands you are making on my powers of clairvoyance. i love douglas: i want to run away with him. but he is hot-headed and foolish and will not take me away quietly. dr. eberstein tells him, when he goes to the sun-temple, that if he waits everything will come out right. but douglas will not wait." "do you see hardwick?" asked narvaez, through enistor's tongue. "he is an old beggar-man who sits outside the temple. i give him alms every day and speak kindly to him. that is why he is so willing to help me now." "does douglas carry you away?" there was a pause, and then the voice of the girl came sweet and clear: "i am in the sun-temple. it is a great festival. all the worshippers of the various star-angels are there in the dress and colour appointed to each. the temple is built in the form of a cross with a hemispherical dome where the arms of the cross meet. it is something like st. paul's cathedral. but between the arms of the cross are passages leading to vast halls, so the plan is different. in the east arm of the cross there is an altar to the sun, and the west arm contains an altar to the moon. the great northern altar is for the whole solar system, i think. the worship now is at this altar." "what is the worship?" asked enistor, to narvaez' unspeakable annoyance. "it is night, and along the roof of the northern arm of the cross there is a slit through which the stars shine. mars is being worshipped, and his ruddy light shines through the slit on to a large silver mirror--i think it is silver, but i am not sure. it is concave. beneath it is a brazier on which i am throwing incense. the priests and priestesses are singing and the worshippers are bowing their heads, as the star gleams from the mirror through the grey smoke of the incense. and then----" "have done with all this nonsense," said narvaez angrily, in his own voice. "tell me about the carrying away." the body in the chair shivered again, but the soul was obedient to the powerful influence. "douglas is there with many of his slaves. towards the end of the service, he breaks through the crowd of priests and takes me up in his arms. the priests try to stop him, but many are struck down. there is a great tumult. you, father, as the high priest of mars, thrust at douglas with a spear snatched from one of the slaves. douglas lets me down for a moment, as i have fainted, and stabs at you with a knife. oh," the voice shook with horror, "he has stabbed you in the throat. you fall and die, cursing him. i see douglas carrying me away. don pablo is running beside him. he is drawing the life from me, and dr. eberstein is looking on sadly. he can do nothing: he can do nothing." "why not?" demanded narvaez harshly, and now careless of using enistor as his instrument. "i owe you a life. i fell into your power when you were a magician in atlantis--in the city of the golden gates. you have a right to take my life, or to forgive me, as i killed you centuries before." "but i did not forgive you. i never intend to forgive you," said narvaez grimly. "you were mine then and suffered: you shall be mine again and pay." "never! never! by taking my life in chaldea you lost your power. i was reborn free from your influence of the past, and you have tried again and again to get me once more under your spell. but dr. eberstein guards me. he will save me from you this time, as he has saved me before." "he won't," declared the spaniard savagely. "you shall marry me and again become my slave to use your powers for my benefit." "i shall not marry you. i paid my debt of the past in chaldea when you killed me. douglas carried me safely away and then found that i was dead: you drew the life out of me in revenge for what i did to you in atlantis. douglas would have been killed for his sacrilege, but dr. eberstein as his friend, the priest of the sun, helped him to escape from chaldea. douglas became a hermit and died very penitent. dr. eberstein told him that he had lost me for thousands of years through his hot-headed haste, but that we would come together again when the past was expiated." "but it is not," cried don pablo triumphantly. "montrose owes enistor a life. to pay that he must give his own life: he is at your father's mercy." "douglas will pay the debt, but not in the way you wish him to pay it." "enistor will enforce payment." "yes," said the squire, his eyes glittering. "now i know why i hated him the moment we met. he killed me in chaldea: he has robbed me in england; i shall demand the payment of both debts." "i feel the evil forces that are working in you both," said alice wearily, "and they hurt me. the book is closed: do let me come back." "stay where you are and search out the future," commanded narvaez, with a snarl of fierce command. "search." "i cannot see the future. it is on a higher plane where past and present are one," came the thin, tired voice, for the girl was becoming exhausted physically with the long-continued strain. "go to the higher plane: you can do so." "something stops me. there is a barrier i cannot pass. you are not permitted to know. father and i and douglas have to work out by our knowledge in the flesh the drama begun in chaldea. this much is allowed: no more." "but the danger which threatens me?" "there are black clouds: red clouds: wicked clouds. you are cutting yourself off from the life of god: you are isolating yourself from creation. you want to drag my father with you, out of space, out of time, out of the arms of god. oh, it is too terrible: it is too terrible. let me return." "see the future," shouted narvaez, defiant as satan in his isolating pride. "i cannot: i dare not: i will not. i call upon christ for help. save me from this wicked being, o power of love. deliver me from evil, our father who art in heaven." what happened at the moment enistor never quite knew. he saw narvaez advance to the middle of the room, looking powerful and making defiant gestures of insane pride. then all the strength seemed to leave him, and he dropped on the floor like a stone, becoming motionless and powerless, a mere mass of evil matter uncontrolled by his wicked will. at the same time alice stirred, sighed, opened her eyes and looked through the dim lights to where her father gripped the mantelpiece appalled at the conquest of his dark master by some invisible power he could neither hear, nor see, nor feel. "you wish to speak to me about douglas, father?" asked alice languidly, and taking up her life at the point it had ceased when narvaez laid his wicked spell upon her. "oh!" she rose with a gesture of repulsion as she saw the prostrate form. "don pablo. i would not have come if i had known he was here." "that is all right, alice," said enistor, recovering his will-power and speech. "he only came a short time ago, and withdrew into the shadow while i spoke to you about douglas." "but i didn't see him fall. i didn't hear him fall!" stammered the girl. "the perfume made you faint for the moment," said the squire, taking the lamp from behind the screen. "we must postpone our talk, alice, as the heat of the room has made narvaez faint. go to bed. i shall attend to him." "good-night," said the girl, without arguing, and touching her father's lips with her own she went away. the hour of darkness had passed, and though she felt languid--with the strain she supposed that she had endured in the drawing-room--yet the light had returned and she felt safe. enistor, left alone, touched the old man, wondering how he would be able to revive him, as this was no ordinary faint. but the moment alice left the room narvaez sat up, apparently his usual self. "did the adversary strike you down?" asked the squire, still pale and unstrung. "no! it was one i do not choose to name. but i defy him! i defy him!" he shook his fists in the air with impotent anger. "i shall win yet! i shall win yet!" chapter xvi the disciple of love next day at noon, montrose returned to tremore accompanied by the doctor, to be received by the housekeeper, as mr. enistor had gone to see señor narvaez, and alice was still in bed. knowing from eberstein that the girl had been submitted to an ordeal, douglas anxiously demanded if she was ill. but, much to his relief, the answer immediately reassured him. "ill, sir? no, sir," responded the housekeeper, who was a voluble talker, "though she did go to bed early last night with no dinner and only a glass of milk to keep her up, which isn't enough nourishment for a young thing like miss alice. but she was sleeping so lovely that the master said she had better sleep on. but i think she is getting up now, sir, and when she knows that you are here, sir----" the housekeeper looked significantly at the young man and departed smiling, with her sentence uncompleted. she was an old and valued servant, who quite approved of the match. "you are sure alice hasn't suffered?" demanded montrose for the twentieth time, and prowling restlessly about the drawing-room. "nothing to speak of," answered the doctor serenely, explaining himself as he would have done to a child. "narvaez and his pupil were permitted to go so far and no farther. they have learned what they wished to know, and i hope the knowledge will do them both good." "what is the knowledge?" "there is no need for you to know at present, my friend. you saw what you did see in my london house, and with that you must be content to work out your present destiny." "if it is a case of destiny i am helpless, doctor." "i think not. certain things must happen because you put certain forces into action five thousand years ago. but such events will work out for good or bad, as you apply the law of love or the law of hate. man makes his own karma, but he can modify the same to a certain extent by using his will-power." montrose sighed. "i am so much in the dark, i don't know how to act." "you will know how to act when the time comes, if you are true to the teaching of christ," said eberstein gently. "but if you would only advise me what to do?" "in that case you would only gain the karma of obedience: good in itself, but less than is demanded. your future has to do at the moment with alice and her father and narvaez, but if i told you the precise reasons why you have come together, you would be hampered in your actions. watch and pray, my friend, and abide by the law of love. then you will receive the guidance of the blessed one, who is building up himself within you." "i shall do my best." "that is all that is asked of you and of any one. if a man acts up to the highest ideal he can conceive, nothing more is demanded. and one word of warning, montrose. alice is quite ignorant of the use made of her clairvoyant powers last night. therefore do not ask indiscreet questions." "do you mean to say that she does not know what she told narvaez and her father?" "no, she does not. ignorance is as necessary for her as for you at present." montrose objected. "if you would only point out the pitfalls to both of us, doctor, we might avoid them." "these same pitfalls are the creation of your own free-will, and of your own free-will you must avoid them," said eberstein decisively. "only experience will teach the necessary lesson which has to be learned, and by making yourself receptive to the eternal ego you can always gain the guidance of the great one, who works through that same ego." the young man sighed again, for this epigrammatic teaching was so difficult and--to him--so involved that he wondered why eberstein did not speak plainly and have done with it. walking to the window and looking out at the dark woodland a stone's-throw away, where the trees were being tormented by a blustering wind, he pondered over the problem, but could find no answer thereto. after a pause, eberstein advanced and laid a kind hand on his shoulder, reading his thoughts and pitying his perplexity. "our teaching is meant to stimulate the mind," he said impressively. "therefore hints are given rather than full explanations, and the pupil has to use his brains to expand those hints into the necessary knowledge. in this way he progresses, as what he gains by this system of instruction is thoroughly learned, which would not be the case if his path were made easier." "i think christ taught in the way you mention," mused montrose. "i remember how many of his sayings puzzled me--and for the matter of that still do." eberstein nodded. "regarding earthly things he spoke plainly, as in the case of giving tribute to cæsar, because people could understand. but as they were unable to comprehend heavenly things the blessed one could only instruct them in parables, and give hints. by doing this last he roused those he spoke to into puzzling out the meaning." "give me an example." "the four gospels are filled with examples. to take one instance. when the people asked: 'who is this son of man?' jesus replied, 'yet a little while is the light with you!' if the people could have connected the saying about the light of the world with this speech, they would have grasped the fact that he spoke of himself. he was the son of man: he was the light of the world. but," quoted eberstein sadly from st. john's gospel, "though he had done so many miracles before them, yet they believed not on him." before montrose could comment on this speech, alice entered the room and flew like a homing bird to her nest in his arms. she looked weak and very pale, with dark circles under her eyes, and had a general appearance of debility. for the moment she did not notice the doctor, but could only weep on her lover's breast. mindful that he was not to ask indiscreet questions, douglas could only smooth her hair and whisper comfortable endearments. after a time, alice responded to this gentle treatment. "i am so glad you have come, douglas," she faltered wearily. "last night i had two hours of great suffering in this very room. i felt as though all light were withdrawn and just as if i had fallen into an abyss of darkness. then i heard, or fancied i heard, my father calling for me and went into the library, where he was sitting almost in the dark. he said that he wanted to speak about you. but i saw señor narvaez lying on the floor, and refused to stay. i went to bed and slept for hours and hours. i have just got up." "why was señor narvaez lying on the floor?" asked eberstein quietly, and more to set her at her ease than because he wished for a reply. "oh, doctor, how are you? i am so glad you have come. don't think me rude not saying anything. i feel so upset. my father said that señor narvaez had fainted with the heat of the room. it was hot." "how long were you in the library?" asked douglas with anxiety. "only a few moments. i could not bear to stay where señor narvaez was." eberstein glanced significantly at montrose to draw attention to the fact that alice was quite unaware of the flight of time when undergoing her ordeal. then he asked her to sit down and spoke gently as he took her two hands within his own. "you said that you were in darkness. that is not the case now." "no, it isn't, doctor. the feeling of light came back when i went to bed, and i did not feel so miserable. i was glad to sleep. and yet," alice looked at the two men in a bewildered manner, "the rest doesn't seem to have done me any good. i feel as if i had walked miles. do you think that what i suffered from the darkness last night has exhausted me?" "yes," replied eberstein quietly. "that was the hour of your gethsemane. now you are feeling better: the light is around you again: the life-forces are rebuilding your strength. look into my eyes." instinctively obedient, alice did so. already through the doctor's hands she felt a warm current passing up her arms and into her body, but when she met his steady grey eyes the magnetism of the life-power he was giving her tingled throughout her entire frame. the brightness returned to her eyes, the colour of health flushed her cheeks: her nerves ceased to thrill with pain, and her muscles grew strong. in silent astonishment montrose looked at the rapid transformation which was taking place under his eyes. from a colourless statue, the girl warmed into rosy life, and when eberstein dropped her hands she sprang to her feet to stand in the shaft of sunlight which had broken through the heavy clouds of the autumnal day. "oh, i feel that i have been born again to a more splendid life," she cried in ecstasy, and looked as though she were transfigured, which certainly was the case. "oh, thank you, doctor: thank you: thank you. how did you do it?" "yes. how did you do it?" asked douglas, also intensely curious. "i suppose you would call it a case of hypnotic suggestion," smiled eberstein, putting his explanation in simple words which they could understand. "i have stimulated alice's will to command the inflowing of the life-currents from the vital body into the physical, and have added a trifle of my own strength, which i can well spare." "it is wonderful: wonderful," cried alice, radiant with unusual life, and smiling like the goddess of spring. "all things are wonderful, because all things are god. he manifests in the many. thank him, my child!" alice was silent for a moment and breathed an inward prayer of profound gratitude, which was echoed in the thoughts of her lover. then she descended to earth and apologised for the absence of her father. "he went to see if don pablo was better, and will be back to luncheon. that was the message he sent up to my room." "i quite understand," said eberstein, nodding gravely. "of course don pablo is an old man, and has not much strength." "you could give it to him," said alice, rejoicing in her glorious vitality. "i could but cannot, because don pablo would refuse to accept help from me, and i could but will not, because he would turn such strength to an evil purpose." alice nodded and shivered. "he is not a good man. i hate him." "you must pity him. he is not good, it is true, but that is because he is dominated by his lower self. for him as for all men god has nothing but everlasting love." "but he is my enemy," remonstrated the girl, perplexed. "i feel that he is my enemy, doctor." "what of that? does not the great master tell us to love our enemies?" "but that standard is impossible to reach," said montrose quickly. "if you act in your own strength it is. but all things are possible with god, and only in his strength do we conquer. do not think of narvaez as bad, for by doing so your angry thoughts add to the burden of evil he bears. send thoughts of love and pity to refresh his struggling soul, which the animal forces are striving to overwhelm." "i am sorry for him in one way," murmured alice. "at least i think that i am sorry." "you have every reason to be, but i don't think you truly are," said eberstein dryly. "because you read the letter of the commandment and do not comprehend the spirit. i cannot very well explain either to you or to montrose, as your limitations are yet great. but i ask you both to pity the man and to hope that he may grow better." "oh, i shall do that," said douglas readily. "there is great room for improvement, isn't there?" "in narvaez, as in you, and in alice, and in enistor. who can afford to throw a stone at any one?" montrose flushed a trifle at the implied rebuke, but never dreamed of defending himself, as he looked upon the doctor as an oracle to be listened to and obeyed with all reverence. eberstein smiled approvingly when he noted how the young man curbed both thought and word, then changed the subject by commenting on the impressive looks of the house and its commanding situation. alice was gratified to hear tremore praised, but hinted at the uncomfortable atmosphere of the place. "i always feel as though i were battling against depression here, doctor. the rooms and furniture are both so sombre." "every house has its own psychic atmosphere, which comes from the sayings and doings of those who live in it," explained the visitor. "i cannot say that the influence of this beautiful place tends to calm the spirit." montrose agreed. "when i first came here i felt that it was a kind of battle-ground, full of tumult and war." "and so it is. invisible forces of good and evil strive here continuously as i can feel. you sense them also, alice, as you are more or less clairvoyant." "yes, i know," admitted the girl, with a nervous glance round the room. "and the evil is stronger than the good, i fancy." "at present that is the case. but we must change the conditions and make this house a centre of holy power to bless instead of curse." "you will have to keep narvaez out of the place then," observed douglas abruptly. "and that will be difficult, as he is a friend of the squire's." "quite so," said eberstein calmly. "i came here to aid mr. enistor, as well as to help you and alice. he is being wrongly guided by narvaez." as if the mention of his name had evoked his presence, the squire made his appearance unexpectedly. he did not look pleased, as don pablo had refused to see him, for the first time during their acquaintanceship. enistor therefore returned in a somewhat gloomy frame of mind, but smoothed his brow and assumed his company manners when he greeted the doctor. he knew well enough that his guest was "the adversary" so often mentioned by narvaez, but knew also how the law of love which eberstein obeyed prevented hostile treatment. he therefore felt safe and indeed rather contemptuous, since he was unfettered by scruples himself, and did not care what means he employed against the aims of the doctor, whatever they might be. yet the downfall of narvaez on the previous night should have warned him against over-confidence, and would have done so had not the man been so besotted with intellectual pride. eberstein knew of this satanic attitude, but gave no sign of his knowledge beyond a pitying glance at enistor's powerful face when they shook hands. "you have a beautiful place here," he remarked lightly. "i was just admiring the position when you came in." "it is well enough, but a trifle lonely," said the squire rather ungraciously. "still, i can amuse you by showing our family treasures, which are many. how do you feel, alice?" he asked, turning abruptly to his daughter, and anxiously wondering if she was aware of the information she had given on the previous night. "i hope you are better." "oh, i am quite well now, father. dr. eberstein has done me good." "i have an excellent bedside manner," interposed eberstein quickly, as he did not wish alice to explain too much. "and i have cheered up miss enistor." "that is well. she had a fit of the blues last night, and would not listen to what i had to say to her in the library." "señor narvaez was there and he always makes me uncomfortable," protested the girl in a troubled way. "you are full of fancies, alice," retorted enistor in an acid tone. "and as narvaez had fainted you might have remained to help me. however, it was just as well you retired to bed and slept for such a long time, as you were not quite yourself last night. well," he added with an assumption of benevolence, "as montrose was away from you, it was natural you should feel dismal. ah, these young men, doctor: they steal the hearts of our children." "and exhibit no shame in doing so," said eberstein humorously. "cupid was ever a robber, mr. enistor." then the gong thundered an invitation to luncheon, which proved to be a truly delightful meal. alice, with her recovered strength, was filled with the joy of life, and douglas, seeing her in such good spirits, was very merry in his turn. as to the doctor, he made himself so entertaining in talking of all that was going on in the great world that enistor unbent considerably, and silently acknowledged that the adversary was better company than narvaez. by the end of the meal, both squire and doctor were on the best of terms. not for many a long day had such gaiety reigned at tremore. after luncheon alice and douglas stole away after the fashion of lovers who desire solitude to express their feelings freely. enistor was left alone to entertain his guest, and conducted the doctor to the library, to show him certain black-letter folios which were of great antiquity and great value. eberstein, charmed with the treasures of the library and with the spacious room, revealed himself to be no mean judge of books and furniture and ancient manuscripts. more than ever enistor felt that this debonair gentleman was not to be feared and became uncommonly friendly with him. "i wish you would come and stay here for a week, doctor," he said impulsively. "it is such a pleasure to meet any one so well read and well informed on all subjects as you are." "you flatter me," responded the doctor cordially. "i should be delighted to accept your invitation, and may do at a later date. meanwhile, i have business which detains me in perchton for a short time. but you have the society of señor narvaez," he added, with a keen glance. "and i hear from mr. hardwick, whom i met yesterday, that he is most entertaining." "hardly the word to be used," said enistor composedly, and wondering why the reference was made. "he is learned and serious." "i don't see why learning need necessarily involve seriousness. knowledge should make one happy, and happiness shows itself in gaiety." enistor, fidgeting with a parchment, frowned. "do you think that knowledge should make one happy?" "why not, if the knowledge be rightly applied?" "in what way?" "to help others less learned." "why should it be?" demanded enistor defiantly. "why should it not be?" countered the doctor swiftly. "what is the use of hiding one's light under a bushel?" "that is a strange sentiment from you, doctor. it implies vanity, as if you wished others to see and envy your light. well, i suppose that would be a source of gratification to any one." "it is but a narrow mind that finds gratification in possessing what another person lacks. you will find the explanation of my real meaning in saying what surprises you in the text: 'let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works and glorify your father which is in heaven.' it is the father who does the works, and the father therefore should surely receive the praise." "who is the father?" "in the greater sense god, in the minor degree the ego, which is a part of god. through the minor power the greater power works, and to him be the glory, mr. enistor. i daresay you know something of these things." "i know a great deal," said the squire in a proud tone, "but i do not interpret them as you do. if i do anything i take the praise to myself. it is i who do it, not this father, big or little, you talk about." eberstein quoted solemnly: "thou couldst have no power at all against me, except it were given thee from above." "that is from the bible, i take it," said enistor scornfully. "well, you see, i don't believe in the bible. it is a series of old documents filled with contradictions and mistakes and impossibilities." "ah, you think so because you read the letter and do not understand the spirit. if you were not so limited you would comprehend the true meaning of the contradictions and mistakes which puzzle you." "they don't puzzle me," retorted the other resentfully. "such rubbish is not worth puzzling about. and i am not limited in any way." "ah. then your knowledge is as wide as that of--shall we say narvaez?" "no. but then he is an older man and has had more time to study. but i am learning swiftly." "and the personality you know as squire enistor of tremore is taking all that learning to use for its own ends." "why not, when such personality is myself?" "the lower self: all the self you know," corrected eberstein serenely. "what other self is there?" "the greater self: that spark of god, which is you--the eternal you. bring your learning to that, enistor, and you will become one with the great father through christ the son by the influence of the holy ghost." "well, if i am that greater self, as you say, i work for myself, and therefore deserve praise for my work and the reward also." "you work only for the limited self which you know. you are not aware of your greater self, because it is veiled from you. all you are doing at present is to thicken those veils instead of thinning them. are you not aware that god is the one manifesting himself in us, the many? we are all striving to return to him, the source of our being. this being the case, through life after life we have to widen our limitations, so that instead of knowing ourselves as man--as you do--we come to know ourselves as gods, one with the great god, yet individualised for his holy purpose. why do you seek to limit your powers, to circumscribe your knowledge?" "what rubbish you talk, doctor," cried the squire, opening his eyes in genuine amazement. "why, i am trying hard to increase my knowledge and gain power." "power for yourself," said eberstein quickly, "and by so doing you are narrowing your circle of action. by giving, you widen out to the consciousness of the deity: by taking, you build yourself a little hut in which you sit as a very shabby little god." "but narvaez has powers you do not dream of." "i know more about narvaez than you think, mr. enistor. he is doing in a much greater degree what you are striving to do in a smaller way under his misguided instruction. was not the warning given last night in this very room enough to shake your faith in his powers?" the squire started back frowning. "you know what took place?" "of course i know, and you know that i know. come, enistor, let us talk freely, for i want to help you, and you need more help than you dream of. narvaez calls me the adversary, and so i am: not so much adverse to you and him, as to your doings. your spirit is one with my spirit, as is that of narvaez', and i wish to aid that other part of myself to fight against the animal self which is trying to overpower it. the spirit cannot be harmed overmuch truly; but the soul can be made a slave to the senses." "have you come here to measure your strength against mine?" demanded enistor in a furious manner. eberstein smiled. "if i put forth my strength against narvaez, much less against you, the result would surprise you. but i act under the law of love, which gives every man free-will, and does not allow domination." "narvaez was dominated last night," admitted the squire reluctantly. "did you strike him down?" "no. a great power struck him down in very mercy, as he was going too far, and it is hoped that the warning may turn him from his evil ways. he is my brother as well as you are, enistor, and i wish to help you both." "i don't want your help, unless you can make me rich and powerful." "i could make you both, and you would use what i gave you to damn yourself yet deeper. narvaez is dragging you down to the abyss into which he is surely descending. in atlantis he lured you into his nets by promising to gratify your desire for personal power over men; by giving you wealth to pander to your animal passions. life after life, as in chaldea, he has made you more and more his slave by working through your senses." "i am not a slave!" cried enistor indignantly. "indeed you are. to narvaez and to your own evil passions. you, who are a god in the making, obey him. like judas iscariot he is a son of perdition and wishes to make you one also, because your intellect is useful to him. again and again, in many lives, you have been helped in order that you may break away from this bondage; but you will not, and until of your own free will you elect to break away, nothing can be done to save you." "where is the boasted power of christ?" sneered enistor contemptuously. "poor soul, why blaspheme? christ stands at the door of your heart waiting until you open the door. he does not enter unless he is invited, so how can he use what you call his boasted power, unless you will accept his aid. humble yourself, enistor. say as did the prodigal son: 'father, i have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son.' then you will learn how great is his mercy: how sweet his compassion." "i refuse: i refuse! i am myself: none shall rule me." "narvaez rules you, and will you bend to him rather than to the holy one?" "i make use of narvaez!" "he makes use of you rather. oh, blind, blind! already he is plotting and scheming to gain you riches in this life as he did in others, so that he may bind you the more securely to him." "if that is the case why don't you thwart his schemes?" taunted enistor. "he has free-will, and must act according to his own judgment. moreover, those he plots against are delivered into his hand by their own acts. one is, at all events. alice escaped from his rule in chaldea when he slew her by his black magic, and since then he has striven vainly to enchain her again. montrose is at his mercy and at yours, because of the crime he committed in the temple of the star-angel. he stabbed you and carried away a vestal, in spite of my warnings. for this reason narvaez has power over him, and as, through love, the karma of alice is connected with the karma of montrose, she has to suffer in a vicarious way. but narvaez cannot rule her." "he can rule montrose however," sneered the squire. "not in the way you think. ignorance has made montrose helpless, as he sinned through blind passion. but he has not deliberately given himself over to the dark powers as you have." "i have not given myself over." "you have--believe me you have," insisted eberstein. "and even now your evil master fears lest you should escape, as your soul is striving mightily. there are germs of good in you which i am trying to awaken. now a great chance is being given to you to escape from the bondage of sin. see that you take it." "what chance?" "montrose owes you a life: he is possessed of a fortune which you think you ought to have. forgive him his sin against you, and admit that he has a right to keep the fortune. then your chains will break." "and if i refuse?" "the greater will be your sufferings, both in this life and in others." "you threaten, do you?" "i plead and warn. but i see that you will not listen, therefore i talk in vain." eberstein was silent for a moment, then added quietly, "but it may be that the blessed one working through montrose may save you yet. great is the mercy of god and great is his patience." eberstein then left the room. enistor gazed after him with a sneer. "why, i believe he is afraid of me," he muttered, with inconceivable foolishness. chapter xvii the disciple of hate dr. eberstein came and went like a gleam of sunshine. his mere presence comforted the lovers, since they felt that he would be a source of strength in time of trouble. truly that time had not yet arrived, but the hint given of its proximity made those who were destined to suffer both uneasy and apprehensive. as the doctor refused to explain what was about to take place sooner or later, the suspense was extraordinarily trying, and only the profound faith of the lovers in their tried friend enabled them to endure. at present, things certainly went smoothly, since narvaez had ceased to persecute and enistor was apparently agreeable to the marriage. nevertheless the young couple felt insecure and sensed clouds gathering swiftly in the summer sky. it was the ominous calm before the breaking of the storm, and the sole comfort lay in the fact that eberstein remained at perchton, able and willing on their behalf to deal with the problematic future. as to enistor, after his one interview with the doctor he scoffed at the idea of such a man endangering the success of his schemes. in common with the majority of people, the squire considered a loving disposition to be a distinct sign of weakness, and eberstein's tolerant arguments only strengthened this belief. judging the disciple of love by his own limitations, enistor assured himself that if the doctor really possessed power he would make use of it to gain what he wanted. the squire was not very clear in his mind as to what eberstein really did want, but nevertheless believed that to secure his ends he would long since have exhibited some capacity to enforce obedience on his enemies. but far from doing this, or even threatening, the doctor had merely talked ethically. enistor scouted such chatter, since he could not, and indeed would not, believe that the power of love was stronger than, or even as strong as, the power of hate. the fact that narvaez had been reduced to impotence when exercising his evil will should have warned the squire that he had to deal with overwhelming forces, but he shut his eyes to such a plain revelation and persisted obstinately in believing that he was superior to the gigantic power of good. it was simply a case of "neither will they be persuaded though one rose from the dead," and enistor declined to believe the evidence of his own eyes. there is nothing stops the progress of any one so much as intellectual pride, since it persistently distorts the truth into what it wishes to believe _is_ the truth. don pablo could have enlightened him, since he was not foolish enough to underestimate the forces with which he fought, even though in his insane pride he pitted himself against those very forces. but don pablo had shut himself in his cottage, and again and again refused to see his pupil. and enistor could not force himself upon the seclusion of the sage, as he knew by experience that narvaez, less considerate than eberstein, would do him an injury if annoyed. so the squire likewise had to wait as did alice and her lover. the nerves of all three were strung up to breaking-point, and the atmosphere of tremore became more than ever insistently oppressive. to escape the pressure alice went down to see dame trevel in the village, leaving douglas to write sundry letters. afterwards he was to join her on the moors, so that they might go for a lengthy walk before dinner. the old nurse was at home as usual, but alice was surprised to find hardwick with her. the artist looked like a wax image for paleness, and was seated in the pet chair of the hostess with the appearance of a man who had not long to live. the momentary improvement in his health when he had gone to perchton had passed away, and alice uttered an exclamation of dismay. "oh, julian, how ill you look! you should be in bed." "and that's what i tell him, my dear," said mrs. trevel, looking anxiously at the young man. "bed for the likes of he, say i." "i'm sick of bed," said julian, in a pettish tone quite foreign to his usual speech. "it does me no good to lie like a log day after day. thank god, it won't be long now before the end comes." "oh, julian, don't talk in that way," cried alice tearfully. "my dear, i have done all i can, and the result is of the worst. the perchton doctor can do no good, and even montrose's friend says that i shall never get better. there is nothing organically wrong. i am just dying of sheer debility." "but careful nursing----" mrs. trevel shook her ancient head. "nursing and doctors and medicine won't do the gentleman any good, miss alice. he's come to me for some herbal cure, but there's nothing i can give. only the almighty can renew his strength." "the almighty does not see fit to do so," said julian moodily. "don't cry, for heaven's sake, alice. tears are of no use. after all it is just as well you refused to marry me, as i should soon have left you a widow, and an unprovided-for widow at that. until your father found me insensible on the moor no one knew my secret, not even my sister; and i always managed to keep up, even to racing you to tremore, if you remember." "yes, i remember! i never dreamed you had anything the matter with you." "nor did any one else save a london doctor. but of late this debility has gained on me, and the end is very near. my dear, i was selfish to propose to you without telling the truth." "oh, don't say that, julian. can nothing be done?" "nothing! my heart may stop at any moment, as the perchton doctor says. one comfort i have and that is an easy death awaits me." hardwick began to laugh in a feeble manner. "i don't look like a man who is able to enjoy a legacy, do i, alice?" "a legacy? what do you mean?" "why, don pablo, who always objected to me because i loved you, has turned out to be an unexpected friend. he came yesterday to see me and explained that he had left all his money to me. if i could only live, alice, i should be a very wealthy man." "why has señor narvaez done this?" asked the girl, puzzled. "lord knows," replied julian indifferently. "he says he has taken a fancy to me, and that as you are to marry montrose he and i are in the same boat, as your rejected lovers. he's not a bad old fellow after all." alice shivered. "i can never like don pablo." "oh, i don't know. he's eccentric rather than bad, and perhaps he really did love you. at all events, he has behaved most kindly towards me during my illness, sending grapes and wine and other delicacies. i used to dislike him and wanted to refuse them, but he came and behaved so sympathetically that i accepted what he offered. but his legacy," julian shook his head, "i shall never live to enjoy that." but alice could not bring herself to believe that narvaez was the good unselfish man hardwick made him out to be. "i wonder what is behind all this amiable behaviour, julian?" she asked, pondering. "wickedness, dearie!" cried dame trevel unexpectedly. "don't you never think as the leopard can change them spots of his. that foreign gentleman is the devil, if ever there was one, with horns and hoofs, and as black as a coal from the pit. he's got some wicked design on you, mr. hardwick, as he has with that silly girl, rose penwin." "oh, there is nothing wrong about what he is doing for rose," said julian, with a faint smile. "he told me that she had great dramatic talent and should go on the stage. he is willing to help her." "he is willing to make a fool of her," said mrs. trevel, knitting vigorously, "and that's a fact. why can't he leave the girl alone to marry job and do her best to be a good wife; not that she ever will be, the pretty fool. your don babbler, or pabbler, or whatever you call him, will get his neck twisted by my lad, if he don't mind his own business. all the village knows how he's come between job and his promised missus." "he means well: he means well!" said hardwick, rising and looking like an old and feeble man in spite of his great stature; "but perhaps he would be wise to leave rose alone. alice, will you give me your arm to my lodgings? i see that dame trevel can do me no good." "i would if i could, my dear gentleman, but you're past the power of man to mend, as any one can see." "don't say that," cried alice hastily, and helping julian to the door. "it will be best for him to come to tremore and let me nurse him. as to rose penwin i shall see don pablo." "you'll do no good, dearie, and it ain't for the likes of you to go after so wicked a man." "i shall appeal to his kind heart, as mr. hardwick says he has one. i want job and rose to be happy, so i shall ask don pablo to leave her alone to live out her life in polwellin." "i think if you put it to him in the right way he will," murmured julian. "if he don't, murder will come of it," said mrs. trevel wisely, and then stood at her door to see the artist being helped down the narrow street by alice in a most tender manner. "poor gentleman," thought the old woman, "there's death in his face, and such a fine figure of a man too. him dying, and rose taking jewels from that foreign beast, and my lad with murder in his heart--oh, it's a weary world." all alice's persuasions could not gain julian's consent to go to tremore to be nursed. but the girl could not bear to think of him dying in lonely lodgings, so she determined to write a letter to mrs. barrast and get her to visit cornwall. julian laughed at the idea. "my dear, amy won't come. and if she did she would only worry me. let me die in peace. i can leave this world quite happy, as you are to marry such a good fellow as montrose is. oh, here we are. how lucky my sitting-room is on the ground floor, alice, along with my bedroom. i don't think i am strong enough to climb stairs." "julian, i can't bear to leave you like this." "you can do no good by stopping beside me. i am not suffering any pain, remember; only fading out of life as it were. i don't know whether it is owing to the fall of the year, or over-exertion on my part, but it is surprising to think how swiftly i have broken up altogether." "i never dreamed that you were so weak." julian laughed and nodded. "i kept my secret well by only seeing you and others when i was feeling stronger than usual. however, i can play my part no longer, and anyhow it matters little. now i shall get to bed. look in occasionally and get montrose to call when he has time." alice, greatly distressed, but wholly unable to improve matters in any way, took a tearful leave of the sick man and climbed up the path leading across the moors to the hill of the roman encampment. there, by the druidical altar, she had arranged to meet douglas, and as the pathway ran past don pablo's cottage she decided to see the man about his interference in job trevel's love-affairs. the fisherman was certainly growing dangerous, and much as the girl disliked narvaez, she had no wish to see him strangled. besides, if her foster-brother allowed his temper to get the better of him to this extent he would undoubtedly be hanged, and that would break dame trevel's heart. more than ever alice wondered why the spaniard should wish to benefit rose by giving her a chance of exhibiting her beauty on the stage, and should desire to make julian a wealthy man. so far as she could understand, narvaez was anything but a philanthropist, and, although he had succeeded in convincing hardwick of his kindly nature and generous disposition, miss enistor had her doubts. it was borne in upon her that for his own mysterious ends don pablo was acting a comedy which might--and in the case of job certainly would--turn into a tragedy. regarding julian's legacy alice had no wish to interfere, but so far as rose was concerned she thought it would be just as well to warn the spaniard that he was playing with fire. with this determination she came in sight of don pablo's cottage about half an hour before the time appointed for the meeting with douglas on the mount. it was such a glorious day that there were quite a number of people on the moors, mostly women, who were gathering bracken and cutting peat. the blustering winds of previous days had died away, and rain had ceased to deluge the country, so that the vast spaces of many-coloured herbage spread largely and clearly under the grey-blue sky. there were no mists to veil the view or blur the outline of distant hills, and but for the keen nip in the air and the presence of frost in deep hollows where the pools were iced over, it might have been summer. alice quite enjoyed the walk in the pale sunshine, and her cheeks grew more rosy and her eyes brighter while she advanced towards the trysting-place. when she came unexpectedly upon don pablo taking the air, some trifling distance from his cottage, miss enistor looked more charming than ever the old man had seen her. he was aware of her coming with that preternatural acuteness which distinguished him, and came forward with a gallant air of greeting which ill accorded with his withered looks. the man appeared to be older than ever, and--as alice thought--more wicked. "this is indeed a surprise," smirked the elderly lover, bowing; "are you on your way to see me?" "i am on my way to see mr. montrose," replied alice coldly, for the man revolted her now as always; "but i did intend to call in at your cottage." "how kind of you. permit me to lead you into my humble abode." "no, thank you. i can talk to you here. it is about rose penwin." "indeed! she has been telling you how i wish to forward her fortunes." "no. but dame trevel told me and i came to expostulate." narvaez grinned wickedly. "for doing a kind action. surely not." "i don't see where the kindness comes in, to launch a girl on the london stage and place her in the midst of temptation, when she could be a happy wife in polwellin." "you talk like a woman of fifty, my dear alice. what do you know of temptation, or of life at all? as for rose being the happy wife of a rude fisherman, that is impossible to one of her beauty and talents. as one old enough to be her great-grandfather surely i am permitted to help her to do something in the world." "polwellin is all the world rose needs," said alice resolutely; "until you interfered she was quite content to marry job. why did you meddle?" "ask yourself that question, my dear," retorted narvaez, coolly adjusting his fur coat. "i was engaged to you----" "never! never! never!" "and you threw me over," continued don pablo, just as if she had not spoken; "therefore i tried to comfort my heart by doing good. marry me and i shall leave rose to become that oaf's wife." "i shall not marry you." "so you say, but i think differently. the game is not yet played out." "what game?" asked alice, looking at his malicious face with distaste. narvaez chuckled wickedly. "you know, yet you don't know," he rejoined enigmatically. "when you are my wife this problem will be explained to you." "i shall never be your wife." "indeed you shall and your lover's fortune shall be restored to your father, who ought to have it. there are wheels within wheels, my dear girl, and much is going on of which you are ignorant." "i daresay," said alice firmly, "you are capable of any wickedness. but it is impossible for you to harm me or douglas. you forget that we have a friend in dr. eberstein." the spaniard's wrinkled face grew black, and he looked like a wicked little gnome bent upon mischief. "i defy eberstein and his silly power," he said shrilly. "he can do much, but i can do more. no one can hurt me." "job can and job will, señor narvaez. you don't know the tempers of our west country men. already he is dangerous, and if you do not leave rose alone he will break your neck." "my neck is not so easily broken," retorted don pablo tartly. "i am not so feeble as my appearance warrants. there are other ways than those of mere brute force by which i can defend myself. eberstein--pouf!" he snapped his fingers in disdain. "job trevel--pouf!" he repeated the action; "but montrose," he added with a sudden change of tone, and raising his voice so that some women working in a near depression of the ground heard him. "i am afraid of montrose. he may kill me." "you are talking rubbish," said alice, startled by the meaning hate in his tones. "douglas scarcely knows you." "he will know me better soon. i see him coming along yonder. doubtless to meet you and enjoy those kisses which should be mine." don pablo with surprising activity leaped to the girl's side. "do you think that i shall surrender you to him?" his hot breath fanned her cheek. "shall i permit a fool to triumph over me? no!" he gripped her wrist before she could swerve aside. "you are mine. you shall be my wife, my slave, my helper, my instrument. and this is the sign of your bondage." "douglas! douglas!" alice shrieked as the hateful spaniard threw his arm round her waist and endeavoured to press his withered lips to her own. "mine! mine!" cried narvaez, and the girl felt faint with disgust as he clung to her like a loathsome snake. the next instant he was whirled away by a strong arm, and douglas was sustaining alice, while the women from their work of peat-cutting and some men with them ran up, crying loudly. "you beastly little devil," shouted the young man furiously, "i shall break every bone in your body." "you hear! you hear!" screamed don pablo, raising himself on his hands and knees with an effort; "he threatens me. he wants to kill me." narvaez was no favourite in polwellin, but he was rich and had made friends with the mammon of unrighteousness in the village. therefore the men and women murmured something about the shame of a young man striking so old a gentleman. they had not seen the entire episode, and even if they had would not have blamed the spaniard overmuch, since it was popularly reported that the younger man had stolen the promised bride of the older one. "lat um be," said one of the men, stretching out his arm to prevent montrose again falling on don pablo, which he seemed inclined to do. "yes, let him be," panted alice, clinging to her lover, "he is mad. i shall tell my father how he has insulted me." "insult you!" shrieked narvaez, crawling up with the expression of a fiend. "i wonder you think any one can insult you." montrose broke away from alice and, gripping narvaez firmly, shook him like a terrier shaking a rat. "you wicked wretch, how dare you! i'll kill you if you insult miss enistor further." "lat um be," growled the same man who had spoken before; "um be bad fur sure, but um be old, my young sir." "pah!" douglas flung the little gnome away and took alice's arm within his own. "let him keep out of my way then. if he crosses my path again i shall rid the world of his accursed presence." "you hear! you hear!" shouted don pablo again. "he threatens to kill me. if anything happens to me, remember all of you what has been said." "aye, we'll remember. but why didn't you lat her as is to be his wife alone?" "she was to be my wife and he robbed me of her," snarled narvaez, arranging his disordered attire. "come away! come away," murmured alice, with white lips and dragging douglas aside, for the young man's fury was overpowering him again. "yes, i'll go. i am not master of myself while that little reptile is about--oh, you toad--you----" words failed montrose, and he walked hurriedly away with alice, after shaking his fist at narvaez. "you threatened to kill me: i'll remember that," shouted the spaniard after him. "you threatened in the presence of witnesses." montrose, walking swiftly home with alice, paid no attention to the cry, but turned to the girl with a white face of suppressed anger and dilated nostrils. "why didn't you let me twist his neck?" he growled. "he's an old man," apologised alice, shivering. "an old beast. is age to protect him from being punished? i shall tell your father, and narvaez will never enter again into tremore. he won't come near me again in a hurry, i'll warrant, after that shaking." "he is dangerous! dangerous!" said the girl, trembling violently. "there is some meaning in what he did. you heard how he called on those men and women to witness that you had threatened him." "i'll do more than threaten if he dares to as much as look at you again." "douglas, he is dangerous. keep away from him." "i don't want to have anything to do with him. he is old as you say, and i can't thrash the life out of him as i should like to. come, alice, you will be all right soon. you have done with narvaez; he has cut his own throat." "he is dangerous! he is dangerous!" and that was all the girl could say, or think, since a dim feeling that future evil would come out of present evil haunted her in a way she could not explain. had the two overheard what narvaez was saying and seen what he was doing, douglas also might have deemed the man dangerous. he gave money to the men and women who had witnessed the affair, and told them to remember the threats of montrose. "i am an old man. i love miss enistor as a daughter," whimpered don pablo, "yet my life is in danger. i shall get the police to protect me. as it is, this young ruffian has almost killed me," and with a feeble gait he tottered into his cottage. there he smiled grimly when within four walls and rubbed his hands. "that is the first act of the drama: now for the second." chapter xviii the night before enistor was furious when he was told how narvaez had insulted his daughter, for although he had little love for the girl, yet his family pride rose up in arms against such behaviour. don pablo was useful to him, as he knew a great deal about super-physical laws, which the squire desired to know also, and in which he was being instructed. all the same the spaniard had proved to be a hard master, and moreover had talked much about the recovery of the fortune, but had done little towards enabling it to be regained. then again, narvaez had been struck down in the moment of triumph by a stronger force than any he possessed, and that made him out to be less powerful than he claimed he was. in one word, enistor was beginning to consider don pablo to be something of a humbug. certainly there were the pains to which he could subject his pupil when he so chose. but that was, as enistor knew, mere hypnotic suggestion and could be nullified by an opposing will. narvaez hitherto had possessed the more dominating influence, but since his capabilities appeared to be shattered by the intervention of the higher powers, it might be that he could not inflict further hurt. the squire wondered if he could make his dark master suffer by taking him unawares while his forces were weak, and determined to do so if he could, if only to be avenged for the series of petty insults to which he had long been subjected. why narvaez should behave in such a crude animal way to alice, the girl's father could not think. but as he had over-stepped the mark, it gave enistor an opportunity of becoming openly hostile. enistor was selfish and unscrupulous, but there was that in him which resented the treatment to which alice had been subjected. perhaps the germs of good to which eberstein had referred were sprouting with unexpected swiftness. but be it as it may, enistor sought the moorland cottage breathing out fire and fury against his former friend. narvaez refused to see him, and when enistor, sternly angry, sent word by the old housekeeper that he would break his way in and take the consequence, he still refused. however, he improved upon his former message by sending an intimation that he would receive the squire on the following afternoon. with this enistor was fain to be content, as by breaking in he would only cause a scandal, which for alice's sake was not to be thought of. the master of tremore was a very proud man, and could not bear to think that his family name should be made the subject of police-court gossip. but when he returned home, he believed more than ever that narvaez was a fraud, as he had not even attempted to inflict the usual pains by suggestion. the man was getting so old that he was losing his nerve, and shortly would not be worth considering whether as friend or foe. having therefore lost the magician's dark assistance, enistor decided to try to recover the fortune in his own way. alice, shaken by don pablo's conduct, had retired early to bed and montrose was seated in the library with his host over after-dinner coffee and tobacco. he was still seething with anger, but since the squire had taken matters into his own hands, he could do nothing but look on. after a full discussion of the affair, enistor insisted that it should be shelved. "we have talked enough about it," he said in a peremptory tone. "i promise you that narvaez shall not enter these doors again. to-morrow i shall explain my opinion to him, and then he can go hang for me. with regard to his desire to marry alice----" "surely after what has taken place, sir, you would never think of any possible marriage," cried montrose, glowing with wrath, "let alone the fact that you have tacitly agreed to alice becoming my wife." "i certainly refuse to think further of narvaez as my son-in-law," said the squire stiffly, "in spite of his wealth. but as regards yourself the possibility of your making my daughter your wife rests with you entirely." the young man laughed and rested his reddish-hued head against the back of the chair. "if it rests with me the matter is soon settled," he said, with a relieved expression in his eyes. he thought that the squire was talking in a remarkably sensible way. "that depends upon how you reply to the question i am about to ask," said enistor dryly. "you inherit the fortune of my sister?" "yes!" douglas sat up, aware that the conversation was becoming serious. "we have not spoken about this matter before, sir, but i would have you know, now that the ice is broken between us, that never in any way did i seek that fortune. it was a surprise to me when i heard the will read by mr. cane." "so i understand from mr. cane himself. i absolve you from fortune-hunting, since you knew nothing of lady staunton's intentions. but do you think it was quite fair of her to leave the money away from her own family?" "that is rather a difficult question to put to the man who has benefited, mr. enistor. and let me remind you that by marrying alice i bring back the fortune to your family." "i think not. your wife benefits, but i don't." "both alice and i are prepared to be your bankers," said montrose uneasily. "to give me what is rightfully my own," retorted the squire, with a curling lip. "thank you for nothing. no, that won't do. until my sister met you it was always her intention to leave the money to me, to restore the position of our family in the county. i want the fortune you hold to myself, as i am a poor man. it is not for a base ambition that i seek the income, but for the sake of going into parliament and helping to govern. i want power, i want a great sphere to work in. without money i am condemned to stay in this cramped neighbourhood eating out my heart." "i quite understand that with such ambitions you feel the need of money, mr. enistor, and with alice's permission i am willing to give you any reasonable sum you desire to forward your aims." enistor did not appear to be overcome by this generous offer, or even thankful for the same. "i take nothing as a gift and i claim my rights." "the whole fortune of your sister?" "certainly! she ought to have willed it to me." "i understood from alice that you were quite agreeable that lady staunton should do what she wished with her own," said montrose slowly. "i don't tell alice everything, montrose. i accepted my small legacy and said nothing about the matter, as there was nothing to be done until you came. now," enistor fixed his dominating gaze on douglas, "i ask you to let me have the money by deed of gift. in return you shall marry alice." "and what are we to live on?" "i shall allow you five hundred a year." "in return for five thousand." montrose laughed at the boldness of the demand. "no, sir. i cannot do what you ask." "then you are a fortune-hunter after all," said the squire bitterly. "i am not!" douglas sprang to his feet with the hot blood making red his cheeks. "so far as i am personally concerned i don't care for money, although i don't deny that i am glad my days of poverty are over. but this money has been given to me in trust to help others. i cannot be false to my trust." enistor waved his hand disdainfully. "that is only a young man's talk. why should you help others? let them look after themselves." "i think differently. dr. eberstein has taught me differently." "dr. eberstein," said the other with a sneer, "is a visionary. if you are to be my son-in-law you must allow me to advise you." "i have always acted on my own responsibility during life," said montrose sharply, "and i shall continue to do so. dr. eberstein knows so much about things not of this world that i am always glad to hear what he has to say." "and do what he tells you." "certainly, in things which have to do with my spiritual welfare. but as regards earthly affairs i take my own way. still, i admit," ended the young man frankly, "that in this instance eberstein advises me to keep the money." "naturally! he can do what he likes with you and the money will be useful to him and his ambitions." the taunt was so puerile that it failed to disturb montrose. "eberstein has no ambition save to do good, and is rich enough to execute his plans without aid from me. he cannot do what he likes with me, as you think, although i am always willing to take his advice, which is of the best. i am not a child, mr. enistor, but one who has gained experience through bitter trials. i may add that eberstein's teaching inculcates self-reliance and individual judgment, so that each man may learn to stand alone." "he is a dreamer as you are. however i care nothing for him or his teaching in any way. you have heard my conditions. surrender the fortune to me and you marry my daughter: otherwise you must leave my house and never see alice again. i give you three days in which to make up your mind." "i make it up now," said montrose, resolute but calm. "the money i have, and the money i keep. with or without your consent alice shall be my wife." "as you please," replied the squire, frigidly polite. "you have heard my determination, from which i shall not swerve. in three days we can talk about this subject again; meanwhile let things go on as usual." and the conversation terminated in what might be called an armed neutrality. to remain in the house on such a footing was by no means palatable to a young hot-headed man as douglas truly was. his first impulse was to leave tremore and do battle with enistor from a distance: his second to stay where he was and give alice the safeguard of his presence. should he depart it might be that enistor could coerce the girl into obedience, thereby causing her unnecessary suffering. montrose loved alice too well to submit her to such sorrow, so he swallowed his pride and said nothing about the conversation. as he was sufficiently self-controlled to appear at his ease alice had not the faintest idea of what had taken place. perhaps if she had observed her father's sudden change towards her lover from geniality to chilly politeness she might have been enlightened. but the insolent conduct of narvaez had made her nervously ill, and she was too languid to take much interest in any one or anything. so matters remained much as usual, although the visitor felt that the atmosphere of the big house was insistently menacing and sinister. eberstein could have told him that the conditions heralded the breaking of a storm, but eberstein, watchful and silent, stayed at perchton, saying nothing, but thinking much. meanwhile polwellin seethed with gossip. the first item had to do with the sudden illness of hardwick, who was said to be dying. every one regretted the news, as the artist was a favourite in the neighbourhood in which he had lived so long. the doctor from perchton came to see the sick man, and mr. sparrow, always a help in time of trouble, visited the bedside. hardwick was grateful to see them both, but was too weak to take much interest in either his body or his soul. he was simply fading out of life, and things of this world were losing their interest for the departing spirit. the second item concerned the quarrel of narvaez and montrose, which had been reported by those who witnessed it, with many additions. it was freely stated that montrose had threatened to murder the spaniard for the insult offered to miss enistor, and the gossips said that if he did he would only be forestalling job trevel, who was equally bent upon "doing for the foreign gentleman." it puzzled the simple villagers to understand why don pablo should return to miss enistor, when he had left her to philander with rose penwin, and arrived at the conclusion that he was a bad lot. nevertheless, because the stranger was rich and scattered his money freely, there were a few who spoke in his favour. but the majority were hostile, since the mere presence of narvaez seemed to irritate those he was with into quarrelling, even though there was no cause to do so. undoubtedly the man had an evil influence, and the inhabitants of polwellin would not have been displeased to see this male atê leave the place. then mr. montrose could marry the squire's daughter and job could make rose his wife, which would mean wedding festivities and plenty to eat and drink. in this way the gossips talked and the rumours grew, so that shortly the whole village was infected with uneasy fear as to what would happen. it seemed as though the influence of the dark house on the hill had descended upon polwellin. perhaps it had, and perhaps it had been guided in its descent by that man who dealt with supernatural things in the cottage which squatted like a toad amongst the heather. to that same cottage enistor repaired the next afternoon to keep his appointment. he found narvaez, looking older and more withered than ever, crouching over the fire, moody, broken-up and peevish; altogether unlike his ordinary serene self. at the first glance the squire decided that his master was quite helpless and sat down with a glow of pleasure to take the upper hand. it pleased him immensely to show narvaez that he also had a will, that he also could bully, and that the former relationship was now reversed. all the latent cruelty in enistor rose to the surface at the sight of his helpless tyrant. the late under-dog now intended to bite and worry as the top-dog had done. "well, sir," said enistor shortly, "what have you to say for yourself?" narvaez whimpered and crouched still lower over the fire. "i am an old man," he moaned, "a very old man." "an old scoundrel, you mean. how dare you insult my daughter yesterday?" "are you against me also? do you want to see montrose murder me?" "it would serve you right if you did get murdered," snapped the squire with contempt; "you are of no use in the world that i can see." "you did not think so once," muttered don pablo humbly. "no! that is true. because i believed you to be a clever man. now i know that you are a fraud laying claim to a power you never possessed." "you have felt my power," snarled narvaez savagely. "i admit that i have. and why? because you had a trained will which you could concentrate to compel me to feel what you wished. that is a thing of the past. the great power that laid you low the other night has broken your will, and you are no longer able to control me." "that is true! that is true! i have had a shock, a great shock." "so if i put forth my will," continued the squire mercilessly, "i could make you endure the pains you inflicted on me when i disobeyed." "and would you?" "i have a mind to do so at this moment. you set the example. as you did to me so i wish to do to you." "i daresay." narvaez straightened himself a trifle, and some of his old fire sparkled in his dull eyes. "but i am not yet so feeble that i cannot defend myself if necessary. i cannot control you, certainly, as the adversary has scattered and weakened my will, but i can prevent you from hurting me." "well, i shall let you off this time," said enistor, sneering, yet wondering why he should show mercy after don pablo's teaching. "let me off! let me off!" screamed the spaniard fiercely. "try, if you dare, to measure your powers against mine, shattered as i am. i can gather myself together again, remember; then you take care, you take care." enistor felt a qualm, wondering if narvaez was so weak as he pretended to be. there was a look in the rekindled light of those steady eyes which made him doubtful of his ground. bold as he was, he felt that it would be rash to advance, and therefore he retreated skilfully by changing the conversation immediately. "you are wrong to think that eberstein struck you down the other night. it was a higher power." "who told you that?" "eberstein himself. it shows me how broken you are, narvaez, when you don't know that the man has been trying to convert me to his way of thinking." "yes! yes! i am brought very low: very low indeed," muttered don pablo with a groan; "but if eberstein tried to convert you he hasn't succeeded very well, since it is only the remains of my power that prevent you from giving me pain." "i don't agree with what eberstein says," retorted the squire tartly. "he talked the usual weak christianity of benefiting one's neighbours instead of one's self." "why not take his advice?" asked narvaez, looking up with his former keen glance. "benefiting one's self has brought me to this. if you follow my teaching you also may come to these depths." "that is a strange thing for you to advise, narvaez." "very strange! but i should not advise if i dreamed for one moment that you were disposed to take the right-hand path. the power of self is too strong for you, enistor. age after age it has dominated you." "so eberstein told me! but this time i have broken your bonds." "have you indeed?" said narvaez in a strange tone, staring into the fire. "ah! that will please eberstein. of course i lose a pupil and he gains one." "no! i stand alone!" said enistor proudly. the answer seemed to satisfy don pablo and he chuckled. "i hope you will be able to stand alone against montrose, now that i cannot aid you. he has the fortune, remember, and he will keep it." "i have given him three days to surrender it or lose alice for ever. and the mention of her name," cried the squire, lashing himself into a fury, "makes me wonder that i don't thrash you for daring to insult her." "no! no!" cried narvaez, and his voice broke. "i am such an old man. besides i can still help you. montrose has a secret which you can use against him." "what is that secret?" enistor's hand, which he had raised to strike, fell by his side. "montrose is already married." "it's a lie!" "ask your young friend if it is a lie. you talk about my having insulted your daughter, enistor: what about the insult of a married man coming to woo the girl in so shameless a fashion?" the squire frowned and was too astounded to speak for a few moments, during which don pablo eyed him curiously. when he did speak it was again to deny the truth of the amazing statement. "beyond the fact that montrose will not give up the money which should be mine i have nothing against him. he is a well-bred gentleman and----" "very well bred to pose as a bachelor," sneered narvaez contemptuously. "i don't believe it. the man is honest. you will have to prove what you say, narvaez. do you hear?" "since you are shouting so loudly i can safely say that i do. prove what i say: oh, certainly. send montrose here to-night and i can give him absolute proof that my statement is correct." "i shall come with him." "no!" said narvaez sharply. "if you come i shall refuse to give the proof in any way. montrose will be convinced that i can prevent him from marrying your daughter, and to put things straight he may be willing to give up the money." "even then," cried enistor furiously, "i can't allow him to marry alice. he would be a bigamist." "that is his affair and hers," said don pablo cynically. "what you want is the money." "i do, but not at the price of seeing my daughter's life ruined." "pooh! what does her ruin or his matter to you? are you bent upon following the feeble christianity of eberstein?" "feeble! he was too strong for you the other night." "he was not!" narvaez raised himself to his full height and seemed to recover a trifle of his former dominance. "i could have dealt with the adversary alone, but the power he summoned to his aid overwhelmed me. however, this is not to the point." the man collapsed again into a weak condition. "do what i tell you about sending montrose here at eight o'clock this evening. i can prove that he is a married man. if you like i can get him, through threats to expose him to alice, to give you the money." "i shall deal with that," said enistor angrily. "all you have to do is to prove your statement. he can come alone and when he returns he shall explain what you say. but i don't believe that he is married." "i think montrose will believe," chuckled narvaez, and then waved his thin hand. "go now, enistor. i am tired." "don't order me about in that arrogant way," shouted the squire, "you have not the power to do so. you will be tired enough when montrose has done with you, i can tell you." "perhaps i will. he threatened to murder me, and to keep his secret he may do so. i don't care: this body is very old and weak. i shall be glad to get a new one." "to work more evil. remember how you were warned on that night when----" "go away! go away!" cried don pablo in a shrill voice of anger, and his eyes flamed viciously. "i know more about the warning than you do and i despise it. do you hear? i despise it!" and as on the night when alice's soul had been loosened from its bonds of flesh he shook his fists in the air. enistor did not argue any longer, but went away with a contemptuous shrug of his shoulders. he was more than ever convinced that narvaez had little power left: all the same the wounded snake might strike in hopeless rage, so it was not wise to tempt the man too far. besides, on his way back to tremore, the squire was filled with rage against douglas for tricking him. to think that the young scoundrel was married and yet came down to make love to alice. eberstein must have known that montrose was not free, and yet he also had kept silent. so much for the christianity he professed. it was with a black face and an angry heart that enistor returned home. he found that alice and her lover had gone down to see hardwick in polwellin, therefore he nursed his wrath until they returned, and it lost nothing by the delay. even then the squire did not immediately attack the young man, since the girl was present. after dinner, as he decided, he would be able to bring montrose to book for his monstrous behaviour. alice could scarcely eat and retired early from the table. julian was at death's door, as she told her father, and she doubted if mrs. barrast--to whom she had written--would arrive in time to take a last farewell. with the squire's permission she returned to the dying man accompanied by the housekeeper. enistor did not object as he rather liked hardwick, and was sorry to hear that he was passing out of life at so early an age. but he put the matter out of his mind when alone with montrose. "i saw narvaez to-day," he said abruptly. "he tells me that you are already married, and swears that he can give proof." montrose sprang up almost too startled to speak. "is he mad to say so?" "mad or not, he declares that such is the case. what have you to say?" "say? why, such an accusation is not worth answering. i have never looked at a woman until i met alice. as to being married," the young man paused with an angry, bewildered look, "the thing is preposterous," he cried indignantly. "preposterous or not, narvaez declares that if you go up to him to-night at eight o'clock, he will give you proof." "oh, will he!" montrose glanced at his watch. "it is twenty-five to eight now. i will go at once, and shall arrive at don pablo's cottage shortly after the hour he mentions. then----" "well, what then?" demanded the squire grimly. "i'll force the lie down his throat," raged montrose, who was quite beside himself with anger, and, unable to speak further, he left the room hurriedly. "is he or narvaez the liar?" enistor asked himself, but could find no reply. chapter xix the morning after after breakfast disastrous news came from two quarters, and concerned both don pablo and julian hardwick. while the squire, his daughter and his guest were ending their meal, the housekeeper rushed into the room with an agitated face to announce evil. like all her class she was delighted to be the bearer of bad tidings, and counted upon making a sensation, which she assuredly did. enistor had scarcely raised his eyebrows at her unceremonious entry when she burst into voluble speech. "oh! sir: oh! miss, here's dreadful goings on. that poor young gentleman who painted pictures is dead and gone." "i thought he would die," said alice, with a sob. "he had no strength when i left him last night. oh! poor julian: poor julian." "but that ain't the worst, miss. señor narvaez is murdered!" enistor started to his feet and overturned his chair. he could not believe his ears. "murdered! don pablo! be careful what you say." "i am careful, sir," cried the housekeeper resentfully. "he's as dead as a doornail, lying outside his cottage with a broken neck. mrs. boyce as looked after him came on the corpse this morning, and is now in the kitchen crying dreadful and exhausted, as she well may be, having rushed across the moor at her age to tell of the wicked crime." "but is it a crime?" asked alice, deadly pale and anxious. "for sure, miss. men don't break their own necks." "who killed him?" demanded montrose sharply. "no one knows, miss--i mean, sir. mrs. boyce said as señor narvaez had some one to see him last night, but who he was she don't rightly know." enistor's eyes rested on montrose, who started and flushed. "when did mrs. boyce discover the body?" "when she got up early to make the old gentleman's breakfast," said the voluble housekeeper. "he wasn't in his room, as usual, but she thought he might have gone out for a stroll, as he sometimes did. then later, as he did not return, mrs. boyce went out to look and found him dead just outside the gate, looking as quiet as pussy. and please, sir, she wants to know what she's to do, having come as quick as ever she could to tell, so that it mayn't be thought to be her fault, which it ain't, she being one as wouldn't kill a fly." "tell mrs. boyce that i shall go over to the cottage and see what is to be done," said enistor quickly, "and send one of the men down to the village for the policeman. we must communicate with the perchton inspector." "and what about mr. hardwick as is dead and----" "you needn't trouble about that. do what i say." the housekeeper vanished reluctantly, as she dearly wished to remain and discuss the deaths. the moment the door was closed enistor turned to montrose with a frown. "what do you know of this?" he asked imperiously. alice started and spoke before her lover could open his mouth. "douglas cannot possibly know anything," she cried indignantly. "what do you mean, father?" "i mean that montrose was the last person who saw don pablo alive." "you can't be sure of that," said the young man, very pale but very quiet. "i certainly called on don pablo shortly after eight o'clock, to question him concerning the lie he told about me. but i left him some time before nine perfectly well. his death is as great a surprise to me as to you, mr. enistor." "i hope the police will take that view," sneered the squire. "you returned here after nine and went straight to bed, when you might have guessed that i was in the library waiting for your report." "i was too upset to give any report," said montrose shortly. "oh, i quite believe that." "douglas! father," cried alice imploringly, as she could not yet understand the precise situation. "what does it all mean?" "it means so far as i can judge that montrose forced the lie down narvaez' throat, as he said he would, and very thoroughly." "do you accuse me of killing the man?" said montrose hoarsely. "yes!" said the squire, looking at him with grim directness. "then i deny absolutely what you say," declared the other vehemently; "as i said before, i left narvaez in his room shortly before nine o'clock, after he had confessed to me that what he mentioned to you was untrue." "what did he mention to father?" questioned the girl, terrified at the furious looks of the two men. "i was with julian until eleven, and when i returned home you had gone to bed, douglas. i came to tell you about julian, father, but you did not say that anything had happened." "nothing had happened then so far as i know," said enistor quickly. "my dear, i saw don pablo yesterday and he told me that montrose was already married." "married! married!" alice started back the picture of dismay. "it is a lie!" cried douglas fiercely, and passed round the table to take her in his arms. "i swear it is a lie, dear. when your father told me after dinner i went at once to narvaez. he confessed calmly that he had spoken falsely so as to prejudice my chances of making you my wife. had he been a younger man i should have thrashed the life out of him. as it was i told him my opinion and then left him quite unharmed. i swear that i never laid a finger on him, but returned here shortly after nine o'clock to go to bed. i was too indignant at what had been said to seek out your father and explain." enistor laughed coldly. "that is a very neat story. do you believe it, alice?" the girl clung to her lover. "believe it: of course i believe it. douglas would not tell a lie." "not even to save his own neck?" "my neck isn't in danger," said montrose haughtily. "i don't know so much about that. the other day you threatened to kill narvaez for the insult he offered to alice, and many people heard that threat, as you know. to demand explanation of a lie--i daresay it was a lie--you left this house breathing fire and fury against narvaez. when you returned it was to retire to bed without a word of explanation. now we hear that the man, whom you regarded as your enemy, is dead--murdered. the evidence in favour of your having killed narvaez is very strong." "purely circumstantial evidence," said montrose, but turned paler than ever when he realised his position. "innocent men have been hanged on circumstantial evidence before now," said enistor coolly. "although on the face of it i do not admit your innocence." "father, how can you think douglas would murder any one!" "ah, i have not the belief in him that you have, alice." "indeed that is true," said montrose bitterly. "you have always been hostile to me, although for a time you masked your feelings. now it seems that without a shadow of proof you believe me to be a murderer." "a shadow of proof!" echoed the squire tauntingly. "upon my word, i think there is much more than a shadow of proof. you threatened narvaez and----" "and so did job trevel," interrupted alice defiantly. "it is probable that job murdered don pablo." "probable, but scarcely possible," said her father coldly. "however, i shall send for the perchton police and strict justice shall be done. until the truth comes to light, montrose must lie under suspicion. leave him, alice." "never! never! never!" cried the girl, with her arms round montrose's neck. "he is innocent: wholly innocent." enistor stepped forward and wrenched his daughter from the young man. "obey me, alice, i command you," he cried imperiously. "so far you have had your own way, but now the time has come for me to have mine. go to your room and stay there until i look into the matter. as to you," he faced montrose, who was quiet and pale and as still as a statue, "i should order you out of my house but that justice must be done." "you mean to have me arrested on a charge of murder?" "i mean to explain the whole circumstance to the perchton inspector and let him deal with the matter," retorted enistor haughtily. "meantime, if you try to escape you will be taken in charge at my instance by the polwellin policeman. you understand." "i understand that you are bent upon my destruction, mr. enistor. but you need have no fear. being perfectly innocent, i shall not attempt to escape." "oh, douglas! douglas!" "you _will_ disobey me." enistor dragged back his daughter and forced her to the door. "go to your room, i tell you." montrose clenched his hands on seeing the girl he loved so roughly handled, but he could do nothing against the authority of her father. with one last sorrowful look, alice disappeared and enistor followed, leaving the unfortunate young man alone with his misery. the wicked atmosphere of the house seemed to bear down upon him with such force that he could almost feel the physical pressure. but this probably was imagination, as he was not sufficiently clairvoyant either to see or hear or feel the unseen. but in this agonising moment when it seemed that he was being swept away by a flood of evil, his thoughts turned swiftly to eberstein. in that man he hoped to find aid, but even as he dwelt on the doctor's assistance a line from one of the psalms flashed insistently into his mind. "vain is the help of man" was the phrase, and he became vividly aware by some sixth sense that salvation could only come from the great power of love as manifested in the lord of compassion. so intolerable a sense of his peril seized him that, almost unconsciously, the cry for help issued from his lips. "oh, christ!" he breathed audibly. "lord help me, lest i perish." it might have been that the intense agony of the moment opened his interior senses, for he became conscious that some glorious light, not of the world, was enfolding him in its radiance. it welled--so he believed--from the golden heart on his breast, as if the stored-up sacramental power was issuing forth to do battle with the dark influence. but be this as it may, montrose became aware that the gloom was receding, that the evil was being baffled, and that he was growing stronger by virtue of some higher force to resist the terrors pressing in upon him. the radiance which clothed him as with a garment gradually died away, and he found himself standing in the common light of day; but the peaceful, holy, uplifting feeling remained. he knew his innocence, and he knew also with profound thankfulness that god would make that innocence apparent to others. the trouble prophesied by eberstein had indeed arrived, and very terrible it was; but behind the clouds which environed him shone the sun of righteousness, and its glory would sooner or later dispel the gloom. having arrived at this knowledge in some way which he was wholly unable to explain, montrose left tremore and descended to polwellin. here he walked straight to the post-office and sent a wire to eberstein asking him to come over at once. he would have gone to perchton instead, but that he did not wish enistor to put his threat into execution and have him arrested by the village policeman. as it was, he became an object of suspicion to the fishermen and their wives. the news of narvaez' violent death had travelled swiftly from ear to ear, and montrose was apparently looked upon as the criminal. the evidence of those who had heard his threats against the man was too clear to admit of doubt, and already accusations had been spread broadcast, judging from the horrified looks which met montrose's gaze on all sides. he had been tried and condemned without loss of time, and in spite of the sustaining power he felt his heart sink with purely human fear. it was with a feeling of relief that he met the vicar face to face. from a more educated man he at least hoped to have justice. "mr. montrose," said the vicar, who looked more solemn than ever and was certainly more stiff, "are you wise to walk through the village just now?" "why should i not?" asked the young man defiantly. "well, there are rumours: rumours," said mr. sparrow, removing his clerical hat to brush his bald head with a nervous hand. "señor narvaez is dead, as you know, and it is said that you are responsible." "why should i be?" "he insulted miss enistor the other day in your presence and you threatened to kill him, i understand. of course i am not a believer in your guilt," added the parson quickly, "as from what i have seen of you i do not think for a moment that you would shed the blood of a human being." "thank you," said montrose simply, and extended his hand. sparrow took it with a flush on his parchment face. "it's all rubbish as i have said," he burst out with very human wrath. "and as you are staying at tremore, undoubtedly you will be able to show that you did not see señor narvaez last night." it was on the tip of montrose's tongue to confess his visit, but something--perhaps common sense--prevented him from incriminating himself. instead, a question sprang to his lips to which he was extremely anxious to get an answer. "what about job trevel?" "there you are," said the vicar quickly. "a rough hot-tempered man like job is much more likely to have done the deed, though god forbid i should accuse him or any one unjustly. yet job certainly hated señor narvaez on account of rose penwin, and uttered many threats against him. but when the news came of this murder, mr. montrose, i at once went to see dame trevel, remembering job's enmity. she tells me that job went out fishing last night early and has not returned. therefore he cannot be guilty." "then who can have murdered narvaez?" "it is hard to say. of course he lived in a lonely situation and had much wealth, if rumour is to be believed. we shall see when the police come from perchton. they should be here soon. i believe that mr. enistor and our village constable have gone to the cottage to see the body. meanwhile, mr. montrose, i advise you to return to tremore and wait until we learn more. señor narvaez was no favourite, yet it is dangerous for you to walk about amongst my rough parishioners, as they seem to think that you are guilty." montrose was no coward, yet he did not see the necessity of courting danger when no benefit could be derived from such foolhardiness. he bowed his head and accepted the warning, thankful to think that mr. sparrow did not believe him to have committed the crime. "and hardwick is dead," he said sadly. "yes! yes! yes! it is a world of trouble, mr. montrose. i have just seen the body, and the poor fellow looks asleep rather than dead. strange that he should die on the very morning when this tragic event takes place. polwellin is such a quiet place: nothing of moment ever happens here. yet now we have two deaths: one from natural causes and one by violence. it never rains but it pours. i have much to do: much to do. now go back to tremore, my dear young friend, and rest assured that god will prove your innocence in his own good time. you have my sympathy and my wife's sympathy." "you are a good man and she is a good woman, mr. sparrow," said montrose, deeply moved. "i assure you i shall not forget how you are standing by me." "pooh! pooh! of course i stand by you, and so will mr. enistor. there is absolutely no ground for these rumours against you, save your unhappy threat. you should keep your temper, mr. montrose: you should keep your temper." "rather hard to do when a lady is insulted," said douglas dryly. "of course: quite so. if it had been mrs. sparrow now, i should have forgotten my calling. still we must fight the enemy of evil feelings even against those who strive to harm us. good-day: good-day and hope for the best." montrose, climbing the hill to tremore, would have smiled on any other occasion at mr. sparrow's fight between human failings and the divine command to turn the other cheek to the smiter. but he did not smile, as he was very grateful to the man for his advocacy, and thought highly of him for standing up so boldly against public opinion. sparrow was limited in many ways, but he had a considerable fund of common sense, which he used to the best advantage. he followed his master as best he knew how and was very close to him in his present attitude, which was one few men would have assumed in the face of such hostility. montrose determined that when his innocence was assured he would repay the vicar in one way or another. meanwhile he had to deal strenuously with his very disagreeable situation. after midday enistor returned and requested an interview with his guest in the library. the young man appeared, looking haggard and anxious, which was very natural considering the dangerous position in which he stood. also he was angry at not seeing alice, for by enistor's orders she was not allowed out of her bedroom, the housekeeper being on guard. douglas insisted that he should be permitted to have a conversation with the girl. "you have no right to keep us apart," said montrose indignantly. "until you clear your character i have," said enistor coldly. "but you don't think that i am guilty: you can't think so. why, even mr. sparrow, whom you say is narrow-minded, does not believe that i killed narvaez." "mr. sparrow does not know of your visit to the cottage last night. nor does any one but myself and my daughter. the perchton inspector came with several policemen and has examined the cottage and the body, and mrs. boyce, who looked after things for narvaez. she declares that someone called last night, but could not say who it was." "perhaps job trevel?" "job went out fishing last night early and has not returned. rose was with her mother all day and all night. neither of these two can be guilty. and from your open threats it is said that you struck the blow, or rather broke the man's neck." "i am not strong enough to do that," said montrose, looking at his hands. "rage can make any one strong," said enistor coolly. "and as you had every reason to be in a rage, seeing that narvaez told what i believe was a wicked lie, you may have handled him too roughly." "i did not handle him at all. how dare you say so!" "don't dare me too far, montrose, or you may suffer. as it is i have a proposition to make to you. only alice and i and you know of your visit to the cottage last night. alice because she loves you will hold her tongue. i am willing to do so also, if you will make over the fortune by deed of gift to me straightaway. narvaez' lawyer from perchton came with the police, as it seems my dead friend has left his money to hardwick for some reason. it is a vain gift, as hardwick is also dead. however, that is not the point. what i mean is that this lawyer can make out the deed of gift to-day and you can sign it. then i shall hold my tongue." "and if i refuse?" asked montrose, seeing himself placed perilously between the devil and the deep sea. "i shall then tell how you visited narvaez last night, and i need hardly inform you that such an action coupled with your previous threats will bring you within reasonable distance of the hangman's noose." montrose nodded and swallowed, as his mouth and throat were very dry. "i see my danger. all the same i decline to give you the money." "then you must take the consequence." "i am ready to do so. and i give you the credit of not believing in my guilt or you would scarcely compound a felony." "you don't know what i would do or what i would not do," said enistor coolly, "as you know little of my character. but you are in my power to hang, and hanged you shall be unless you surrender the money. i don't think," ended the man with a sneer, "that your dear friend eberstein can aid you in this dilemma. what do you think yourself?" "i think nothing about it," rejoined montrose decisively. "i have wired to dr. eberstein to come over, but----" "but he has not yet put in an appearance," interrupted the squire, with a harsh laugh. "and he never will." "i disagree. when he knows of my peril he will come." "he knows of your peril without your telling him, if he is the wonderful man you have made him out to be. however, this is an unprofitable discussion. the question is, will you give me the money to save your neck?" "no!" said montrose obstinately. "i shall give you until six o'clock to decide," replied the squire calmly. "and then, if you still refuse, i shall inform the inspector about your visit to narvaez last night. that will mean your immediate arrest and subsequent punishment." "it will mean the first undoubtedly, but i may escape the second. i trust in god to prove my innocence." "the age of miracles is past," said enistor with a shrug, and left the library to again interview the inspector. montrose remained where he was wondering why eberstein did not either come over to help him, or at least reply to his wire. enistor's taunt was surely true, for the young man had sufficient knowledge of eberstein's wonderful powers to be certain he was aware of all that had taken place. with his ability to procure super-physical knowledge, he probably knew who had murdered narvaez, so he would surely come to the rescue. but an hour passed and the shadows began to deepen without any information. montrose began to feel his spirits sink, and again tried to invoke the helpful power which had aided him before, but without success. he felt desperately angry against the squire for behaving so wickedly, and resented the hate directed against him. "hate only ceases by love," as eberstein had said, but how could he love, or even tolerate, a man who was bent upon encompassing his destruction. montrose asked himself this question several times without getting any reply, and was well nigh in despair, when an interruption came. this was none other than the unexpected appearance of alice. "oh, my dear, my dear," she cried, hastening across the shadowy room to throw herself into his longing arms. "i have been broken-hearted over you, but i could not get out to see you. father came some time ago and said that i could try to persuade you to give up the money." "and what do you say?" montrose asked her softly. "give it up: give it up. what does this miserable money matter?" "i care nothing for the money as you well know. but eberstein told me to keep it, and i obey him in this as i obey him in all things." "but why hasn't he come to help you?" sobbed the girl, trembling. "he will come: he will do something. i have every confidence in him. remember how he prophesied this woe, and said that we had to learn to walk alone. i can't believe that one who has helped me so much will desert me in my hour of need. depend upon it, alice, all will be well. what have you got here?" "it is the bible," she offered him the book. "i have been trying to find comfort in it. but i can't: i can't. everything seems to be against us." "eberstein said that it would be," replied her lover gloomily, "and he has proved himself a true prophet. however, we can only wait and let your father do what he wants to do. i refuse to buy my safety by giving up the money." "but why not?" "because such a surrender would be tantamount to my admitting guilt. since job can prove an alibi i don't know who murdered narvaez, but i know my own innocence, and am prepared to face the worst." "then--then--" faltered alice with white lips, "there is the danger that you may be condemned. oh, douglas, if my father reveals your visit, the evidence is so strong against you. why not hide until we can find out the truth?" "would you have me sneak away like a cur?" cried the young man in high anger. "no. i am innocent and therefore can meet my accusers with a calm mind." "but the evidence is so strong," pleaded alice again. "if we can only get time to learn the truth there will be some chance of proving that evidence false." "how can we get time?" "you must hide, and meanwhile i shall see dr. eberstein and search for the person who is guilty. oh, if julian were only alive," moaned alice, clasping her hands, "he would help. but he is dead: dead, and we have no friends to help us in any way." "we have god, and eberstein who is a servant of god," said montrose tenderly. "dearest, i must have faith and so must you. besides, even if i did hide i know of no place where i could be concealed." "i do," said alice eagerly, and thinking that this speech was a sign of yielding. "there is a cave in the cliffs some distance away from the jetty where the boats go out for the fishing. i could guide you there and you could take provisions and candles and something to drink. there you could wait until things grew quiet, and with dr. eberstein i could find out the truth." "the cave would be discovered." "no. i have thought of that. no one but i knows of the cave--at least i fancy so. i found it one day by chance. and no one would ever think of looking for you there. they would never think you had taken refuge in a cave." "my dear, i can't admit guilt by running away." "if you don't, my father will destroy you." this was true enough, and undoubtedly enistor would press on the charge as strongly as possible. montrose wavered. "it might be reasonable to gain the delay," he muttered. "oh, i wish eberstein were here to advise." as if in answer to his speech, one of the servants entered with a telegram, which proved to be from the doctor. montrose opened it when the maid had left the room, and found the message rather cryptic: also unsigned, save by the initial "e." it ran: "matthew x. , twelve words!" "look up the text, alice," said the young man eagerly. the girl, luckily having the bible with her, rapidly skimmed over the leaves and took the book to the window to read the small print in the fast-failing light. "but when they persecute you in this city, flee ye into another," she read slowly, and would have continued the verse, but that her lover stopped her with a gesture. "those are the twelve words," he said, folding up the telegram. "the rest of the verse doesn't matter. so eberstein wants me to fly. i wonder why," and he looked woefully disappointed. "take his advice," said alice eagerly, and glad that such a powerful opinion backed her up. "you always obey him, you know." "yes. all the same i did not think he would tell me to sneak away. it seems to be cowardly: it seems like admitting guilt." "i said in london that i believed in dr. eberstein and i say the same now, douglas," was alice's decided answer. "he knows more than we do about things, as he prophesied that we should have trouble. do what he says." montrose frowned and bit his lip, for his faith in the doctor was being sorely tried. he never expected to get advice coinciding with that of alice. and the idea of flight was opposed to his sense of manhood. all the same there was no sense in being heedlessly rash, and undoubtedly eberstein must have some powerful reason to telegraph as he had done. alice watched his changing face eagerly and inwardly prayed that he might yield. she saw no safety for the present but in flight. finally with a sigh he took her face between his two hands and kissed her. "i shall go to your cave," he murmured, but winced at such resignation to what he regarded as an ignoble course. the two put the plan into execution at once and stole away across the moor into the gathering night after certain preparations. in the space of an hour alice regained her room, and was apparently innocent of what had taken place. but douglas was safe in the unknown cave with a scanty store of food, and wine, and a few candles. "gone," said enistor furiously. "then he is guilty after all." chapter xx the unexpected as montrose had stated to alice, his flight was looked upon as a tacit admission of guilt. up to that moment enistor had not been quite certain that douglas was the culprit, as the young man had never given him the impression that he was one likely to proceed to such extremities. but this sudden disappearance could only mean that he had done so, therefore enistor very naturally concluded that montrose had been infuriated by don pablo's bitter tongue into revenging himself hastily. probably he now regretted that haste, but whether he did so or not mattered little to the squire. all that the master of tremore knew was that his enemy was now at his mercy, and he intended to take full advantage of the opportunity. his first step was to inform the perchton inspector of that fatal visit to the cottage. then, very speedily, the hue and cry was out, and for miles round the police explored the country. there was no doubt in any one's mind as to the actual truth. the threats of montrose, his presence at the cottage at the time when the crime had taken place, and now the unexpected disappearance--these things showed that douglas and none other was the guilty person. the next day every one was searching far and wide for the criminal, and enistor was so vindictive that he offered a reward he could ill afford for the capture of the unfortunate young man. this he did to gratify the hatred which had existed for many incarnations, and also because he believed that when montrose found it was impossible to escape the gallows, he would make over his wrongfully inherited money to alice. and once alice was in possession of the income, her father felt convinced that he would be able to handle the same. it was a very plausible plan, and enistor worked hard to carry it out. as alice had come and gone in the space of an hour, and her absence had not been noticed, save by the housekeeper, the squire was far from suspecting that his daughter had organised the flight and selected the hiding-place. as to the housekeeper, she was quite on the side of the lovers, since she did not believe for one moment that a nice young gentleman like montrose had so vilely murdered don pablo. therefore she procured the food and wine and the candles which montrose had taken with him, and also promised to hold her tongue in spite of all temptation. alice trusted her, and she was right to do so, for the woman was perfectly staunch. moreover the girl was glad to have some one to whom she could talk freely. during those dark days she saw little of her father, but remained in her bedroom praying constantly for the safety of her lover. it was a terrible ordeal for one so young and delicate and friendless, but alice felt that she was being supported by the master of love, and that out of sorrow would come enduring joy. mrs. sparrow came to see her, and the narrow-minded grey woman proved to be unusually sympathetic. neither she nor her husband could bring themselves to believe that douglas was guilty, in spite of all evidence to the contrary, and for this loyal support alice was duly grateful. of course the vicar's wife was excessively aggravating with her platitudes, which did not give much comfort. "all is for the best!" "we must not murmur at the rod!" "it is for your good that you suffer!"--these cut-and-dried phrases dropped incessantly from mrs. sparrow's prim lips, and wrought on alice's nerves to such an extent that sometimes she could have screamed. but knowing that the grey woman meant well, and appreciating her defence of montrose, the girl controlled her feelings, and accepted these exasperating condolences as genuine, which they assuredly were. but she longed for the presence of dr. eberstein and wondered why he did not put in an appearance. yet he remained absent and silent, not even sending a letter to comfort her in trouble. still alice had such a belief in the man that she did not resent his apparent neglect. all the same, her faith was being sorely tried. job trevel did not return. according to his mother he had gone away in his boat to the fishing-grounds at six o'clock on the evening of the murder. no one therefore could suspect that he had anything to do with the matter, but the polwellin folk wondered at his absence. rose could give no explanation, as the death of her patron caused her so much grief that she took to her bed. there was no chance now that she would go to london and appear on the stage, and beyond possessing some jewels and a few articles of costly clothing, she had benefited little by don pablo's sinister friendship. she would not even have his name mentioned, and now that the man was dead both dame trevel and mrs. penwin hoped that rose would marry job and settle down. the gaudy bubble blown by narvaez had burst, and the disappointed beauty had to do the best she could. therefore, she and the two old women looked forward to the return of job as the best thing that could happen to put the crooked straight. and as the weather had been stormy, it was presumed that job had been driven for shelter into some distant cove, whence he would come back in due time. polwellin was quite excited over the tragic events which had taken place, and the village was in a ferment over the possibility of this person and that gaining the reward offered by the squire. but although every acre of the moorland was searched the fugitive could not be discovered. it was over forty-eight hours before the first clue was found, and that clue came from a quarter least expected. also it was given to the man who most wanted to learn the whereabouts of montrose, on the second day after the commission of the crime. enistor was the man, and mr. sparrow was the person who put him into communication with the individual who afforded the desired information. "the most wonderful thing has happened, mr. enistor," said the vicar, entering the library on the afternoon of the second day. "the age of miracles is not yet past, my dear friend." enistor scowled. he did not like to be called a dear friend by the parson, as he thought the man was an ass, and he was quite sure in his own mind that miracles were all rubbish. he told mr. sparrow as much. "this isn't palestine to be gulled by such things, and we live in a scientific era." "in a very godless era," said the vicar in a tone of reproof. "and i only hope that the wonderful thing that has happened will convert those who do not believe in an almighty being to a more reverent frame of mind." this was a hit at the squire, who was looked upon as an atheist by mr. sparrow. but enistor did not take up the challenge. "what is your miracle?" "mr. hardwick is alive." "what?" the squire could not but feel startled at the announcement. "ah, i thought you would be amazed," said mr. sparrow complacently. "wonderful are the works of god and----" "oh, hang your platitudes! you talk rubbish. why, you told me yourself that hardwick was dead." "i did. i saw him lying dead on his bed, and mentioned to mr. montrose that he looked as though he were asleep. it might be a case of suspended animation," continued mr. sparrow, brushing his bald head thoughtfully, "something of a cataleptic nature it may be." "well? well? well? go on." "there is nothing further to say, mr. enistor. the presumed dead man revived this morning and is now as well as you or i. i was sent for immediately by the landlady and called to express my astonishment. i have telegraphed for the perchton doctor who deposed to the death. he will be amazed to learn what has taken place. wonderful! wonderful! wonderful!" "it is no doubt a case of catalepsy as you say," growled the squire, turning to his desk again. "a good thing for hardwick that he wasn't buried alive. now he can enjoy narvaez' fortune and have a good time." "i hope he will be a good man, seeing that he has been raised from the dead like lazarus. not that mr. hardwick was bad. indeed i always thought that he had signs of grace about him. well! well! his resurrection gives me a text for next sunday. i thought you would be pleased." "i am not pleased and i am not sorry," retorted enistor. "hardwick is a nonentity and is nothing to me." "i thought you were friends, mr. enistor. he asks to see you, saying that he is sure you will come down to him at once." "he presumes too much. i have quite enough to do in searching for this scoundrel who murdered my dear friend." "i don't believe he did," said sparrow decidedly. "mr. montrose is not the man to shed blood." "he didn't," said the squire grimly, "he broke the man's neck. and if he did not murder narvaez, who did? not job trevel, who was the other person who uttered threats." "it is a great mystery," sighed the vicar, putting on his hat. "like this confounded resurrection of hardwick. why the deuce couldn't he stay in the next world after taking the trouble to go there? he's not much use in this one so far as i can see." "question not the decrees of the almighty," said mr. sparrow rebukingly. "but there: i am speaking to a deaf adder. may i see miss enistor to comfort her and offer up a prayer in her present sorrow?" "yes. she's moping in her room and behaving like a fool. offer up what prayers you like: they won't do any good. it is all her folly in getting engaged to that young criminal that has brought things to this pass." "mr. montrose is innocent," said sparrow obstinately, "and in due time god will prove his innocence. i wish you a softer heart, mr. enistor, and good-day," and the worthy parson stalked out of the room to seek alice and console her. enistor did not resume his work immediately. it had to do with the disappearance of montrose, as he was writing to the perchton inspector. before the entrance of sparrow with his wonderful news, the work had seemed very important, but now enistor felt inclined to lay it aside and seek the lodgings of the artist. certainly it was wonderful that hardwick should recover, after he had been lying dead--as the doctor insisted--for so long a time. undoubtedly it was a case of catalepsy, and enistor felt curious to see the man who had been so nearly buried alive. his sister was due the next day to see about the funeral, and enistor laughed when he thought how the frivolous little woman would be surprised. disappointed also it might be, as she, being the next of kin, would have enjoyed narvaez' money had her brother really passed away. it was all very strange, and after a moment's hesitation the squire put on his cap and walked down to polwellin. he would see for himself what had taken place, and would question hardwick concerning what he had seen during his trance. for trance it was the squire felt sure, and the recovery--in his opinion--was a perfectly natural one. there was quite a crowd round the lodging, and hardwick's landlady was recounting her feelings when the dead man had come to life. she certainly looked as though she had sustained a shock, and seemed rather disappointed that there was to be no funeral. enistor listened grimly to her incoherent explanations, then pushed his way into the house and sought the artist's sitting-room. he found hardwick dressed in his usual clothes and presenting an unusually vigorous appearance. his face was more highly coloured, his eyes were full of fire, and he moved about with the swift grace of a panther, alert, vital, impetuously and wonderfully alive. enistor stared in amazement at the sight. never had he seen before so splendid and powerful a man, or one so charged with life-force. "dying seems to have done you good, hardwick," he observed dryly. "it looks like it," replied the other, and although he spoke in his usual mellow voice, the squire pricked up his ears and looked at him inquiringly. the tone was more imperious than that ordinarily used by hardwick, and had in it a dominant, crushing quality which startled the visitor. the two men stared hard at one another. hardwick took up his position on the hearth-rug, leaning easily against the mantelpiece, while enistor took possession of a deep arm-chair near the window. the door was closed, as was the window, so they were quite alone; entirely free from observation and eavesdropping. the squire felt that in spite of hardwick's late cataleptic trance the artist was more alive than he was, since wave after wave of powerful animal vitality seemed to emanate from him and fill the little room. then enistor cried out with sudden terror. he had reason to do so. every nerve in his body was aching with agony, and every muscle was twisted with pain. some force ran through his frame like fire, excruciating, insistent and terrible. he could not rise from the chair, he could not even move a finger, but lay where he was inert and helpless, with that devouring flame tormenting him to madness. and indeed enistor wondered why he did not go mad with the frenzy of pain, while hardwick smiled on him quietly and calmly and unwinkingly, like an avenging god. after that one cry the miserable man uttered no other. he felt that it would be useless to protest in any weak human way. he was in the grip of a tremendous force and as helpless as a fly in the claws of a spider. "i don't think you will taunt me any more with the loss of my power," said hardwick suavely. "i am a fraud, am i? my will has been shattered? eh? how do you like that, my dear friend?" and again there came another surge of the biting fire, which caused the perspiration to break out on enistor's forehead. "who--who--who are you?" stammered the squire brokenly. he was beginning to have an inkling of the appalling truth, for he well knew that only one man--if man he were--could exercise such devilish power. "i think you can tell me that." "narvaez!" "exactly!" the magician withdrew his intense gaze, and loosened his victim from the bonds of torment, then sat down quietly, smiling and bland. "i think you have had enough proof." enistor feebly moved his limbs and wiped his forehead with his pocket-handkerchief. his mouth was so dry that he could scarcely speak, and he thankfully poured out a glass of water from a carafe which was on the table. as he drank, a delicious sense of freedom from pain passed through him, and he knew that the man lounging in the chair was curing what he had hurt. "i have had enough proof," gasped enistor, setting down the empty glass. "you are don pablo in hardwick's body." "yes! i am very well satisfied with my new suit of clothes," said the other, looking at his limbs complacently. "hardwick's retiring soul left its earthly vehicle in good order. the organs are all sound, the blood is of the best, and the whole mechanism only needed the extra vitality which i am able to supply." "how can you get the vitality?" asked enistor rather nervously, for the sight before him was enough to shake an ordinary man to the core of his being. "never mind. i know how to tap the source of life and use what i will. hardwick could not do that, being ignorant, therefore he died from sheer lack of vitality. a lucky thing for me, as it gave me a chance of replacing my worn-out body with this very splendid instrument." "did you kill hardwick?" "no. there was no need to kill him. his ego had been drawing the soul back for a long time, and knowing that he would soon die, i made my arrangements accordingly so as to enter the body." "then your lie to lure montrose to the cottage----" "_was_ a lie--in your interest," said narvaez-hardwick coolly. "it was necessary that montrose should be there so as to be inculpated in my death. do you understand now why i insulted alice so that montrose might publicly quarrel with me?" "oh!" the squire turned pale as he began to comprehend the infernal ingenuity with which the magician had wrought out his scheme. "then montrose is not the guilty man?" "no more than you are. my insult to your daughter was a comedy to deceive the public as to montrose's feelings towards me. my behaviour when you called to taunt me was part of the same comedy. i think i played my part excellently well, enistor, or you would have been afraid to say what you did. i suppose you are now convinced that i still have my powers: if not----" he leaned forward to fix the other man with his eye. "no! no! no, i am quite convinced," and enistor cowered in his chair. "you are narvaez true enough." "to you and to the adversary whom no disguise can deceive. but the rest of the world will know me as julian hardwick. when montrose is disposed of, my friend, i can then marry alice as arranged. she was not averse to becoming hardwick's wife, so there will be no difficulty over that. and i am still rich, as i made over all my fortune by will to hardwick, and inherit my own money. i have sent for the lawyer, who will come and see me to-morrow to arrange about the transfer of the property when my late body is buried. and i think," ended narvaez-hardwick pensively, "that i shall follow the corpse of my benefactor to the grave. grace my own funeral," he laughed, much amused. "where is hardwick's soul?" stammered enistor, who felt the hair of his head rising with the natural terror of the human for the superhuman. "purging its baser qualities on the astral plane," said the other carelessly. "he won't stay long there, as he was such a pious ass he will probably get his share of heaven before long. i am not interested in him. i have done him no harm in taking his body. it was useless to him and is useful to me. oh!" narvaez-hardwick rose and stretched himself. "it is splendid to have so magnificent a vehicle. in it i shall live years and years gaining wider and wider knowledge to extend my empire." "but the great power that struck you down and warned you----" "hold your tongue," snarled the magician, with a look which transformed the kindly face of hardwick into the semblance of a fiend. "leave me to deal with powers higher or lower as the case may be. i have held my own for centuries against all. are you about to become a pupil of the adversary as i suggested when you taunted me in the cottage?" "no. and yet the adversary has greater power than you have." "it's a lie," shouted narvaez-hardwick imperiously. "what struck me down was a much mightier power, which i don't choose to name. i told you that before. hold to me, enistor, and i can give you the kingdoms of the earth." "at what price?" enistor shivered at the look on the other's face. "you know the price. you must give me alice for my wife, and you must obey me in every way. i cannot instruct you unless you do. and now that montrose is in your power and has to pay back the life he took from you in chaldea, you can force him to give up the fortune." "he refuses." "he dare not refuse if he wants to save his neck." "but is he guilty?" "no." narvaez-hardwick laughed contemptuously. "you might have guessed that no pupil of the adversary would be bold enough to commit murder. he is full of silly scruples. you know who killed me!" "no, i don't." "then you are a fool," said the magician roundly. "job trevel is the man." enistor started from his chair. "impossible! job was away in his----" "job was at the cottage on the evening when i died," interrupted narvaez-hardwick grimly. "i sent for rose penwin to come and see me some time after eight, knowing that job would follow. i contrived to let him know by impressing a message on his foolish brain. he really was going out in his boat, and at six was about to start when he felt compelled to come to the cottage. he saw rose on the moor and followed her. by that time i had drawn montrose to the cottage, so as to incriminate him, and you know the means i used. after i had confessed that i had told a lie about the marriage he went away, and i saw rose, to talk nonsense and rouse job's jealousy. i went with her to the gate and kissed her there. she didn't mind, as i was an old man and had promised she should go to london next week. job was waiting for her at the gate, having seen her enter the cottage. then he sprang on me and broke my neck. after that rose ran away and job returned to his boat." "he has not come back yet," said enistor, horror-struck at the callous way in which narvaez-hardwick detailed his wickedness. "nor will he. he fears lest the truth should come to light and he should be hanged for my murder. rose knows, but for her own sake she will hold her tongue. so you see that montrose cannot escape. he can offer no defence and must be hanged. go to him and offer him his life on condition that he surrenders the fortune. then hang him, or pardon him if you will. i don't care in the least. you are bound to me by stronger bonds when the money is gained, and as julian hardwick i shall marry alice and train her as a clairvoyante. we shall go to spain, where i have my home, as narvaez, and which as julian hardwick i inherit. i think i have managed everything very cleverly." "yes," faltered enistor, awed by the power and frightened by the unscrupulous cruelty of this strange being. "but montrose has disappeared." narvaez-hardwick frowned. "i know that, but i don't know where he is. i have searched and searched without success." "but you have not yet been out of doors." "you fool, have i no means of searching other than in the physical?" cried the man wrathfully. "i have been looking for him from the other side. it is as easy for me to use my astral body as this physical one. but the adversary has placed a veil round him. i cannot see where he is. still alice knows; i am certain of that. she will want to see him: follow her, and then deal with the man as you will. i have placed him at your mercy. but i am bound to say that this would not have been the case had he not killed you in chaldea, my friend. the adversary would have interfered." "he may interfere now," said enistor, rising slowly. "he cannot. montrose owes you the life of which he robbed you. you can do what you like. where he is i cannot tell, as he is protected so far. but his evil karma is too powerful for this protection to continue. he must work out his fate. follow alice: she will lead you to him." "i am sure alice does not know, narvaez." "call me hardwick, you fool, else you will be considered a lunatic and will be shut up for one. alice does know. this much i am aware of. she assisted him to fly: she knows where he is hidden. now i think that is all i have to see you about. you can go." enistor's pride revolted at being ordered about like a dog. "i wish you would speak more civilly, hardwick," he said, scowling. "you spoke civilly to me when you thought i had lost my power, didn't you?" jeered the other. "don't bend your brows at me, or i shall make you suffer. i have done much for you and expect repayment. nothing for nothing is the rule of the left-hand path." "i'd like to kill you." "oh, my dog is showing his teeth, is he? take care! i have shown you what i can do. if you want to be shown further----" "no! no!" enistor winced at the thought of again enduring that cruel pain. "then obey me. go away and watch alice so that she may unknowingly lead you to montrose's burrow. when he is found come to me again. good-bye." enistor gnashed his teeth at the insults hurled at him, but being in the grip of a greater force than he had within himself, there was nothing for it but to yield. he departed with a gloomy face, to carry out his orders. narvaez, in the splendid body of hardwick, rejoiced with unholy glee. "i am winning," he cried exultingly. "winning all along the line." chapter xxi the choice enistor returned to tremore in a black silent rage, wishing heartily that he could find some one with whom to discuss the position in which he found himself. but there was no one, as the mere statement that narvaez had taken possession of hardwick's body would be scouted by the most credulous. there were some things which could not possibly be believed, and this was one of them. the present generation was too material to entertain, for a single moment, so wild an idea, and enistor knew--as his master had warned him--that he ran a very good chance of being locked up as a lunatic, if he even hinted at the astounding truth. thus the squire's dabbling in unholy matters had isolated him from his fellow-creatures, and, at the moment, he felt the deprivation keenly. there was nothing he could do but shut himself up in his library and think over his position. it was not a pleasant one. by his own acts in this and previous lives he had committed himself to bondage, and was treated like a slave who had no rights of his own. what a fool he had been to doubt narvaez' power, since again and again he had received proofs of it. on the evil hill beside the druidical altar he had seen with other than physical eyes the terrible elemental creatures which don pablo could evoke, and whom he controlled by his powerful will. any doctor would have told him that it was a case of mere hallucination brought about by the hypnotic suggestion of certain weird ceremonies. but the squire knew better. there were ways of entering the invisible world which interpenetrates the visible sphere, and narvaez, by centuries of study and training, had learned how to open the door. he had flung it wide to his pupil, but it could not be closed again, as enistor did not know the necessary conjuration. this in itself showed the man how impossible it was for his ignorance to cope with the knowledge of don pablo. and now that the magician's black arts had secured a new body, the perfection of which assured him a valuable instrument for many years wherewith to rule on the physical plane, enistor saw painfully clearly that he would be more of a slave to him than ever. he had to obey narvaez, as he had ample proof of how the man could enforce his will by inflicting torments. for the first time, therefore, the squire began to consider how he could escape from his thraldom, and ruefully confessed the truth of the significant text, "the way of the transgressor is hard!" had enistor been master instead of slave he would not have troubled about the saying, but being at the beck and call of a merciless tyrant, he wondered why he had been such a fool as to take the left-hand path. so far as he could see there was no chance of retracing his steps. yet he had one great hope. with his own eyes he had seen the powerful lord of the dark face struck down in the moment of his wicked triumph, so there was no doubt that the power of good was infinitely greater than the power of evil. it was in enistor's mind to seek out eberstein and ask for his assistance. the doctor knew as much about the unseen as narvaez, and perhaps more, since he was in communication with higher planes than the magician could reach. undoubtedly, eberstein, always bent upon doing good, would willingly give his aid, but the price demanded would be the renunciation of revenge. that price the squire felt that he could not pay, especially now, when montrose lay at his mercy. the death in chaldea he might overlook, since it was more or less, to the conception of his physical brain, the figment of a vision. but the money which montrose unjustly withheld could not be given up, as enistor needed it desperately to forward his plans for success in the social and political worlds. therefore he did not seek out eberstein, as the price which the doctor would ask for giving aid was too great. when the squire came to this conclusion he heard a faint regretful sigh, which startled him not a little. there was no one in the library and both door and windows were closed. yet the sound was quite distinct, and enistor ardently wished that he was sufficiently clairvoyant to see who was present. in a fanciful moment he wondered if his guardian angel had taken his departure, seeing that it was hopeless to induce him to turn from evil to good. but the idea was ridiculous, as the squire could see no use in anything that did not benefit himself. he rose to his feet fully determined to find montrose and give him his choice of life or death. if the young man surrendered the money he would be permitted to escape; if he declined, then an uncomfortable death awaited him at no very distant date. enistor felt quite virtuous in offering the alternative, as he considered that he was giving montrose a chance of salvation which the man would be foolish not to accept. as to narvaez, enistor hoped that shortly the magician--physically at all events--would remove himself from his path. if montrose would only act sensibly and escape to australia or america, after giving up the fortune, then alice could marry don pablo, and go with him to spain. thus enistor would be left free from all domestic relations and with five thousand a year to act as his ambition urged him. and of course the girl would think she was marrying julian, for whom she had a great regard; so, failing the fugitive becoming her husband, which on the face of it was impossible, narvaez, in the body of hardwick, would have little difficulty in gaining his ends. in this way everything would be very nicely arranged and he could dispense with the assistance of eberstein. in his insane egotism, strengthened by the wicked teaching of don pablo, the squire never gave a thought to the idea that he was deliberately ruining an innocent man. he was too imbued with the iron rule of the left-hand path to flinch at such villainy, and considered that the weaker must give way to the stronger. that was only fair and logical. the irony of this thought was that enistor, as inferior to don pablo, did not wish to submit to him, although the strength of the latter compelled him to do so. yet he was exercising towards montrose the very tyranny he resented being exercised towards himself. but no amount of argument could have convinced enistor that he was illogical. at afternoon tea alice made her appearance, looking anxious but determined, since her faith in eberstein, and in the great master of eberstein, braced her to face the worst serenely. things were dreadfully tangled, the outlook was black, and, humanly speaking, it seemed that there was no possible chance of happiness for herself and her lover. but since the doctor had foretold not only the coming of calamity, but the passing of the same, if bravely endured, alice was perfectly certain in her own mind that in some mysterious way god would answer her constant prayers for joy and peace. thus, although she was pale, her eyes were bright and steady, and she behaved in a calm reasonable manner, as though everything went well with her. enistor marvelled at her composure, and would have dearly loved to shake it by announcing that he knew she had contrived the flight of montrose. but this he could not do lest he should place the girl on her guard. therefore he said nothing, having arranged mentally to follow her when she stole out to seek the hiding-place. "there is no news of that young scoundrel," said enistor, unable to withstand the gibe. "he has concealed himself very cleverly." "douglas is no scoundrel," said alice steadily; "circumstances are against him, and he does well to hide, seeing how bitter you are against him." "a lie set forth in bad english," sneered the squire. "he is a scoundrel, as every murderer is, and i am not bitter against him. i only wish to see justice done." "you care nothing for justice, father. all you wish is to use this accusation to force douglas to give up aunt lucy's money." "you are very impertinent, but you speak truly enough. my main desire is to get that money, and unless montrose surrenders it he shall hang." "you will have to catch him first," said the girl coldly, but said no more. for her father was behaving so wickedly in her opinion that she found it difficult to speak to him with any degree of civility. enistor peered at her from under his strongly marked eyebrows and scowled in a menacing manner. it occurred to him that she might have gone to see montrose during the afternoon, in which event she would assuredly not seek him after dark, and therefore he would not be able to follow her to the hiding-place. "where have you been these last few hours?" he asked acidly. "i went to see rose penwin, who is ill," said alice quietly. enistor, bearing in mind what narvaez had stated, started violently. "what did she tell you?" "nothing! what is there she could tell?" "one never knows what a silly girl like that will say," retorted the squire, reassured that the secret of the murder was safe. "what else have you done?" "i saw dame trevel and learned that job had not yet returned. then, as i was told how julian had recovered from his cataleptic trance, i called on him!" "you must have gone to his lodgings immediately after i left," said enistor quickly. "well, don't you think his recovery is wonderful?" "yes! mr. sparrow said the doctor was sure julian was dead, so it is little less than a miracle that he is alive and well. but----" alice hesitated, and looked highly perplexed. "but what?" "julian is different from what he was." "in a way i admit that, alice. he has more strength. it is a wonderful recovery, and i expect the case will be reported in _the lancet_." "i don't mean that exactly," replied the girl reluctantly; "but somehow julian is quite different. i liked him very much, as he was always so good and kind," she hesitated again, then ended abruptly: "i don't like him now." "rather whimsical, don't you think?" said her father tartly, and wondering if the girl's intuition had informed her of the marvellous truth. "i suppose it is," said his daughter wearily; "but whatever may be the reason julian's illness has changed him into something different. i used to be so happy when with him, but now i shudder in his presence. he has the same terrifying effect on me that don pablo used to have." "you are talking nonsense," said the squire roughly. "i know i am. an illness could not change any one into other than he was. i can't help my impression all the same. julian was good, now he is evil. i never wish to see him again." "that is a pity," said the man slowly, "for now that narvaez is dead and montrose has proved himself to be unworthy of your hand, i wish you to marry julian hardwick." alice started to her feet. "never! never! never!" she cried vehemently. "you are capricious, my dear. you were willing enough to marry julian rather than don pablo." "of two evils i chose the least." "you shall choose the least still, if julian is the least. i objected to you marrying him because he was poor. now that he has inherited the money of narvaez he is a good match for you." "no!" alice struck the table so violently that the cups rattled in the saucers. "douglas is innocent and douglas shall be my husband. even when julian was his own dear self i would not have married him after meeting douglas; much less would i do so now, when he has changed into something horrid." enistor saw that she sensed the presence of don pablo's black soul in hardwick's body, but as she could not explain and would not be believed if she did explain, he merely laughed at her vehemence. "you are a silly girl to talk in this way. first you like the man, then you don't, and talk of a change which only exists in your imagination. are you going mad?" "i may be," said alice moodily. "i have had enough to send me mad. but you will understand this, father, that i love douglas and intend to marry him." this was her final determination, and before enistor could argue further she left the room, fearing a breakdown. when alone she flung herself face downward on the bed and tried to compose her mind. it was necessary that she should do so, as late at night she intended to steal out with food for her lover. her father--as she thought--would never suspect her, and she could leave the house when he and the servants were in bed. already the housekeeper had made up a bundle, which lay in a convenient cupboard, and would have accompanied her as chaperon, but that her mistress declined such companionship. montrose was nearer at hand than any one suspected, so it was just as well that as few people as possible should seek the hiding-place. alice, nerved by love to walk the lonely moors in the chilly gloom, intended to go alone, and in holding to this resolve became more heroic than she ever thought she could be. but in her heart perfect love had cast out fear, and she would have faced an army to succour the man she intended to marry. the dinner was quiet and the evening was quiet, as enistor spoke little and alice was not inclined for conversation. indeed there was nothing to say, as father and daughter were silently hostile to one another. owing to the squire's want of paternal affection they never had been friendly, and now that he wished to ruin her life by handing over montrose to the police, alice felt that she hated her father. eberstein would have told her that it was wrong to do so, even in the face of excellent reasons. but eberstein was absent and silent, so in this dark hour the girl had to fight entirely unaided. as a matter of fact, she was being guided along the dreadful path skilfully, and her every movement was being watched, as her every thought was known to her guardian. but her clairvoyant power being in abeyance, she did not guess this, and so far as she was aware, only the strength of her love for douglas enabled her to battle against the dark influences which tried hard to sap her strength. when enistor retired to his library, alice excused herself on the plea of a bad headache and went to her room. there she sat in the faint light of a solitary candle sending loving thoughts to the lonely lover in the cave under the cliffs. nine o'clock struck and then ten, but it was not until eleven that the house became dark and quiet. a stolen visit to the library assured her that her father had gone to rest, so, thinking that all was well, the girl put on a warm cloak with a hood and took the basket, to leave by a side door which the housekeeper had left unlatched. in ten minutes she was through the darkling wood and on the bare spaces of the moor. but she did not see that her father was following with the skill of a redskin on the trail. enistor had watched and waited pertinaciously, and had little difficulty in getting on the track. it was a stormy, blowy night, with a mighty wind rushing inward from the sea, and alice struggled against the blast incessantly on her way to the cliffs. every now and then there was a lull and she could hear the clamour of the waves and the thunder of the waters hammering against the rocks. in the vast hollow of the sky, black clouds were hurtling across the firmament at tremendous speed, unveiling every now and then a haggard moon, full-orbed yet with waning fire. it was a walpurgis night, when warlocks and witches should have been abroad, rather than this delicately nurtured girl, made heroic by love. enistor, toiling after her at a distance, wondered at a strength of character which he had been far from thinking his daughter possessed, and laughed grimly to think that unknowingly she was placing her lover within reach of the gripping hands of justice. amidst the clash and clang of the elemental forces the girl, on her mission of love, and the man, on his errand of vengeance, staggered across the waste land drenched by the fierce rain and buffeted by the roaring winds. occasionally a zigzag flash cut through the inky clouds, but the subsequent thunder was almost lost in the furious crying of sea and wind. great as was the hate of enistor to enable him to face such forces, greater was the love which strengthened alice to attempt such a task of high endeavour. alice led her father down to the very verge of the cliffs, and halted there a stone's-throw from the coastguard station. lurking in the background, the squire strained his eyes to see her, and did see her, a momentarily clear silhouette against the pale illumination of the horizon, where the moonlight struggled to assert itself. then a big black cloud drove ponderously across the moon, and when it passed, alice was no longer to be seen. in some way she had descended the cliffs, and a cold feeling of fear lest she should fall and be dashed to pieces gripped enistor's heart, rather to his surprise. he had never thought that he possessed sufficient love for alice to make him wince in this way. but the love was evidently latent in him, and sent the man pell-mell towards the lip of the land to stay the girl from her rash adventure. bending over to look into the seething hell of water below, which bubbled and boiled like a witches' cauldron, enistor caught sight, in the fitful moonlight, of a tiny dark figure dropping down to some unknown destination. alice was safe as yet in spite of the fury of wind and wave, and scrambled down a narrow track with the sure-footedness of a goat. not for nothing had she adventured her life in hazardous ways during the past year, and now the nerve she had gained came in useful when her lover's neck was in danger. she did not think of her own at the moment, but enistor's heart was in his mouth, as the saying is, as he lay on his stomach peering down at the daring girl. then a turn of the path below concealed the clambering figure from his eyes, and he debated within himself as to the best course to adopt. he was surprised to think that montrose was concealed so near to the coastguard station, and no great distance from tremore itself. but in the very daring of selecting so dangerous a hiding-place lay its safety, as he soon came to comprehend. but what alice with her youth and lightness could do enistor did not dare to attempt. he decided to wait until she came up the cliff again, and then he could force her to reveal the exact spot where montrose lay hidden. rolling into the shelter of a venturesome gorse bush which grew near the verge, he kept his eyes partly on the light of the not far distant station and partly on the place where the girl had descended. in this way he hoped to seize his daughter and to guard against being surprised by the navy men, although these latter would be useful at a pinch to arrest the fugitive, when alice was forced to reveal the truth. so enistor lay there and the rain beat upon him, the wind blew, and the thunder rolled overhead a challenge to the tumult of the waves below. meanwhile alice, never suspecting that she had led her father to within a stone's-throw of her lover's lurking-place, swung still further downward from the point where enistor had lost sight of her. finally the path, which was a mere goat's track, excessively narrow and dangerous, terminated in a small jagged hole no very great distance up the cliff from the sands and rocks below. it was marked by bushes, and would have passed unnoticed even by an experienced climber. the girl had found it during a day in spring, never thinking that it would ever be required for the purpose for which it was now being used. speedily thrusting herself into this rabbit-burrow, as it might be called, she scrambled on hands and knees along a narrow passage until she emerged into a fair-sized cave. there she saw montrose ready to greet her with a candle in his hand, and this he soon put down to take her in his arms. "my darling! my darling! how brave you are!" "oh, my dear! my dear! my dearest!" she could only cling to him and kiss him and feel that she had reached the heaven of his embrace. "you are trembling!" montrose lighted another candle from the stock she had brought and made her sit down on a block of stone fallen from the roof. "no wonder i tremble when i think of you climbing down that terrible cliff. you must not do it again. do you hear? i would rather give myself up than expose you to such a risk. you might fall and----" alice stopped his protestations with a kiss. "i shall not fall. again and again i have gone down that path out of a spirit of sheer adventure. shall i then not come when your life depends upon my coming?" "there never was such a woman as you are," cried douglas brokenly, "but oh, my darling heart, how can you love me when i lurk here so shamefully?" "you are doing right. dr. eberstein said that you were to fly. when the truth comes to light you can reappear." "will it ever come to light?" questioned montrose uneasily. "everything is dead against me. i must stay here for ever." "you will not stay here for ever!" said a quiet steady voice, and the lovers turned their heads with a start to see eberstein standing some little distance away, calm, benevolent, and encouraging as he ever was. alice cried out with natural terror at the sudden appearance of a man whom they supposed to be miles away, and montrose, thrilled with the deadly fear of the supernatural, could scarcely speak. "how--how--did--you--come here?" he gasped, holding alice tightly to his breast. "in a way you know not," replied eberstein, smiling so kindly as to strengthen both. "my true physical body is asleep in the hotel at perchton. this i use now is one created for the moment, so that i may be seen and heard to speak by you both." but for that reassuring smile and their knowledge of eberstein's goodwill the lovers would have been terrified out of their lives. "but you are--you are flesh and blood," stammered alice nervously. "in one way, yes: in another way, no. the knowledge of certain laws which has been entrusted to me enables me to materialise myself in this way." he advanced to place one hand on the girl's shoulder and the other on that of montrose. "you can feel my touch, can you not?" "we can feel, hear and see," said douglas, and his inclination was to kneel before his master who manifested such power. all fear had departed now both from himself and alice. it was as if an angel had come to them. "kneel only to god," said eberstein solemnly. "it is his great mercy that permits me to come to your aid. the moment is at hand which will decide your future--the future of you both. before you, montrose, will be placed good and evil: as you choose so shall it be." "i shall choose the good," cried the young man impetuously. "be not over-confident, lest you fall," warned the master gravely. "one whom you wronged in the past has you at his mercy." "my father?" questioned alice, with a gasp. eberstein bowed his head. "in chaldea you killed him, montrose, and therefore you owe him a life for a life. humanly speaking you are in his power for the moment, and he can hand you over to the officers of law." "but i am innocent of the crime!" "yes! and he knows that you are innocent. but the teaching of the son of perdition, whom you know as narvaez, has warped his nature, and to gain the money he claims he will place you, if he can, in the shadow of the gallows." "he does not know where i am! he is----" "peace!" the master raised his arm slowly. "what will be, will be as love or hate, fear or trust triumphs in your breast. ascend the cliff, alone!" "alone!" alice uttered a shriek. "no! no! let me go also." "ascend the cliff alone," repeated eberstein calmly, "and you, my daughter, kneel here in prayer that good may triumph over evil. may the will of god be fulfilled, and may the love of christ"--he made the sign of the cross--"be with you in the hour of need, with the saving grace of the holy ghost." where he had been there was but the gloom of the cave faintly illuminated by the candlelight. motionless with awe the lovers clung to one another, and montrose, looking upward when movement came to him, breathed a voiceless prayer. then he bent to kiss alice, who had sunk on her knees, and loosening his clasp moved slowly towards the entrance to the cave. she did not seek to stay him, but with folded hands looked at his retiring form--it might be for the last time. but as she looked the exaltation and awe of that solemn moment opened her interior senses, and she saw a triangle of white flame, which showered on her lover's head purple rays of ineffable beauty. these shaped themselves into a cross as he disappeared, and then drew inward to a star, radiant and glorious, which shone in the gloom as the symbol of hope and salvation. to that high splendour--to the power beyond--to the father and to the son and to the holy ghost proceeding from the father through the son, did she pray fervently. not that her earthly parent might be spared the commission of a crime, not that her lover might be saved, but that the holy purpose of god, unknown and inexplicable, might be fulfilled according to his will. to such a height of trust in the love which saves had the ever-compassionate mercy of the christ raised this weak, faltering, bruised soul. chapter xxii right is might montrose was so accustomed to obey his master that he never questioned the order to climb the cliff and leave alice alone in the cave. yet as he straightened himself behind the bush which masked the entrance he wondered why such instructions had been given. neither he nor the girl knew that enistor watched for their coming, so the young man could only conjecture that eberstein wished him to surrender to those officers of the law who were hunting for him. this seemed strange in the face of the doctor's telegram advising him to fly; but for want of knowledge montrose was not in a state of mind to reconcile the apparent contradiction. his sole idea was to do what he had been told to do, even though--as seemed to be the case--he was risking loss of liberty and life. and indeed, with regard to the last montrose believed that he might lose it otherwise than on the gallows. the narrow, tortuous path sloped upward abruptly, with the cliff soaring high above it and the cliff dropping steeply below to unfathomable depths. fortunately the mighty wind, which roared inland from the sea, enabled him to cling the more surely to the rocky face of the precipice, and by slow degrees he crawled towards his goal overhead. in a less degree than alice was the young man accustomed to such perilous wayfaring, and only by persistent will-power did he manage to control his nerves. what with the screaming of the tempest above and the bellowing of the waters below, he nearly lost his head. the tumult of sound, the stormy darkness only fitfully dispersed by gleams of moonlight, his dangerous position midway between heaven and earth--these things were enough to daunt the bravest man. but that he had been supported by unseen powers, montrose would never have succeeded in scaling that tremendous cliff. yet he did so, painfully crawling upward inch by inch, shaken like a leaf in the grip of the wind and stunned by the uproar of great waters. at length, after many hours--so it seemed to him who had lost count of time--he reached the summit and cast himself breathlessly on the wet herbage. panting painfully, he sat up after a pause, and then the lightning flaring in the dark sky showed him a tall figure rushing towards him. and at the very moment of the onset the winds swept clear the face of the moon to reveal in her waning light that enistor had found him at last. "i have you now," shouted the squire, stumbling towards his victim with eager haste. "you shall not escape." montrose had no thought of escape and could not have saved himself even had he been so inclined. he was wholly spent with that fearful climb and was unable to cry out, much less shape his breath into speech. yet with the instinct of self-preservation--since he was dangerously near the verge of the precipice--he rolled blindly to one side as enistor dashed heedlessly towards him. one moment he saw the big man reeling with extended hands to clutch and capture in the half-light; the next and his enemy had disappeared over the cliff, crying hoarsely as he realised that he had underestimated the distance. the cry was echoed by montrose, who nearly lost what few senses remained to him in the horror of the moment. then it flashed across his bewildered mind that enistor was dead and that there was no chance of capture for the moment. striving to regain his breath, to control his mind, to master his nerves, that effort was the insistent thought which governed his whole being. utterly unmanned, he sobbed hysterically. but the loss of self-control did not last long. by a powerful exercise of the will montrose succeeded in gaining the mastery of his being and on hands and knees crawled towards the edge of the cliff. he did not expect to see enistor, as in his impetuous rush the man must have hurled himself directly into the thundering waves which broke far below in white and furious foam. in the moonlight, which radiated strongly for the time being against the face of the sea-front, montrose saw a dark body half-way down. the squire had fallen straightly for some distance, then had cannoned off one rock to strike against another, and finally came to rest on a projecting spur, where the senseless body remained, hanging helplessly above the boiling of the witches' cauldron below. clearly and distinctly montrose saw the perilous position of his enemy: clearly and distinctly he knew that his enemy could be saved. it remained with him to allow enistor to die terribly (since the man's first movement when he revived would precipitate him into the hell beneath) or to descend and effect a rescue. how could he do so without a rope and lacking assistance? the young man did not know, but what he did know, and the thought burnt into his brain, was that enistor could be saved, or doomed. and the choice lay with him. the temptation was almost overpowering. only enistor could depose to that fatal visit to the cottage, and if such a proof was wanting montrose knew positively that he could not even be accused, much less arrested. he was aware of his innocence, yet enistor, who hated him, could prove him to be guilty, and hand him over to an unmerited death. this the man would assuredly do, and montrose winced to think how his name would be covered with ignominy and how greatly alice would suffer. why should he save one who designed his disgrace; who desired his death? he asked himself this question, and then asked it of god. no reply came either from himself or from the unseen. he felt as though the guidance of the higher powers had been withdrawn, and that he was left to choose unbiased, uninstructed, completely free. then he recollected how eberstein had said that both good and evil would be placed before him, and how swiftly he had declared he would select the good. his memory recurred to the subsequent warning: "be not over-confident lest you fall." this was the time of choice, the crucial moment, which decided all. if he saved enistor he saved the only witness who could bring about his condemnation: if he did not rescue the man he would be free to marry alice, to enjoy the money, and to lead a peaceful life. but could a peaceful life be built up upon a crime? for a crime it was to allow his enemy to perish. no! come what might, arrest, trial, condemnation, and shameful death, it was impossible to hesitate longer. enistor must be rescued and he must be the man to do the deed. in a frenzy of eagerness, and in deadly fear lest the evil should overpower the good, montrose sprang to his feet and hurried impetuously towards the lights of the coastguard station. there was not a moment to be lost, so he literally fell against the door and clamoured for admittance. "what's the row? what's the row?" asked a gruff voice, as the door opened violently and a coastguard appeared. "you, sir!" the man had seen him before and recognised him in a moment. "have you come to give yourself up?" "do what you like about that," gasped montrose, clinging to the door, a wild figure ragged and streaming with water, "only help me to save enistor." "the squire! what's that about the squire?" and another coastguard laid down his pipe to step hurriedly forward. "he has fallen over the cliff." "you threw him over!" cried both men simultaneously. "no! no! i swear i did not. but what does it matter? you can arrest me afterwards if you choose. just now i want to save enistor. his body is hanging halfway down. get me a rope, a lantern; come and assist. i must save him." and montrose, feeling a new and powerful life move him to action, rushed into the darkness. the startled coastguards followed, both to see what had happened and to arrest the fugitive for whom the whole country-side was searching. but discipline prevailed in spite of their natural bewilderment, and they came to the verge of the cliff when montrose shouted, with lanterns and a stout rope. the young man was lying on his stomach pointing downward to where the body was plainly seen in the moonlight. the coastguards recoiled in dismay. "is that the squire?" cried one. "then he's dead for certain." "no! tie the rope round me. i shall descend," said montrose feverishly. "it's almost sure death, sir," declared the other man more respectfully, for if the fugitive intended to descend upon such an errand of mercy it was impossible that he could be guilty of the murder. "death or life, i'm going," retorted montrose, and hastily bound the rope under his armpits, assisted by the two men, while he slung one of the lanterns round his neck. "now! pay out the rope!" and he let himself down gradually, clinging dexterously to the scanty herbage of the precipice. luckily the storm was dying away and the wind had rapidly swept the greater part of the heavens clear of vapours. in the starry space above the sealine the moon shone out more strongly than usual, so montrose had ample light to negotiate his downward course. the coastguards peered over the edge of the cliff, and twisted the rope round a convenient rock, measuring it out gradually. but hardened men as they were, they shivered as every now and then the daring adventurer swung clear, to hang like a spider at the end of the slender line, while the cruel rocks and hungry waters waited below for their prey. but the power that had supported montrose before supported him now, and he felt singularly clear-headed and strong. slowly but surely he dropped down the face of the precipice and finally alighted gently on the projecting spur of rock. very cautiously he looped a twist of the rope round enistor's body, knotting it to himself, for the least mistake would have tumbled both from the insecure foothold. as it was the spur trembled and vibrated dangerously under the added weight of montrose, even though he was greatly supported by the line. however he managed to bind the squire's insensible body to himself, then gave the signal to be drawn up. the coastguards made sure that the rope was safely attached to the rock, and then, hoping that it would not give way under the strain, they began to haul up the two men. with one arm round enistor, who was bound more or less tightly to him by the rope, montrose assisted as best he could with the arm left free and with his feet. but it was a perilous journey, and the two men above, as well as montrose, heaved sighs of relief when willing hands dragged rescuer and rescued into safety. notwithstanding the immense strain to which he had been subjected, the young man still felt able to deal with the situation. "have you any brandy?" he asked the nearest man, as the three of them looked down at the insensible body. "yes, sir," and a flask was handed over. montrose knelt and forced the clenched teeth apart to pour down the ardent spirit. the squire still lived, for his heart was beating faintly, but his face was woefully scratched, his head was bruised, and the mackintosh he wore was ripped to shreds by the tearing and rending of the rocks and shrubs which he had struck during his fall. that he was alive was a miracle, and so the bluff coastguards thought as they held the lanterns for montrose to do his office of mercy. they respected the young hero intensely for what he had done, as few men would have dared the perils of such a descent in the stormy gloom of the night. but they did not know how truly heroic montrose had been in saving the life of one who could condemn him to a shameless death for a deed he had never committed. montrose himself did not consider the action further, being wholly occupied in aiding enistor to recover his senses. what he had done he had done. there was no more to be said. "better?" asked the young man softly, when enistor feebly opened his eyes to stare into the pale face bending over him. "what's the--the matter?" murmured the broken man faintly. "you fell over the cliff. hush, don't talk. take some brandy: you will be all right soon." "no! i think--i think--my back--broken," the voice died away in a drawl of exhaustion and the eyes closed. with a last effort they opened again, and enistor asked a question. "who saved me?" "i did!" "you!" the voice expressed astonishment, disbelief, hatred, scorn; a whole gamut of disordered passion, as some all-comprehending sixth sense told montrose. then the sick man relapsed into insensibility. "help me to carry him to tremore one of you," said montrose, rising and looking at the men, who were staring curiously at him in the mingled light of the moon and the lanterns. "the sooner a doctor sees him the better." "i can take him along with my mate here, sir," said a coastguard gruffly; "if you go you will be arrested for the murder of that old foreign cove." "as i am innocent i don't mind being arrested. and if you two hand me over to the police i understand that a certain reward----" "don't speak like that, sir," broke in the other man hastily; "a gentleman what risked his life to save him as was hunting him down ain't no murderer." "thank you," said montrose thankfully and simply. "all the same i am going to surrender. meantime, we must take the squire home." the men stared and wondered, admiring montrose more than ever, since he was risking his liberty as he had risked his life to save the man who was so bitter against him. one coastguard returned to the station, but montrose and the other carried the body of enistor on a hurdle--taken from a near sheepfold--to tremore. they took a long time to cover the distance across the dark misty moorland, and as they approached the great house montrose little by little felt the artificial strength which had sustained him so far ebbing away. he wondered why it was leaving him: he wondered what would happen when the police took him: he wondered if alice was still in the cave: and finally broke down altogether on the threshold of the dark house. when the coastguard rang the bell and roused the servants he handed over two insensible men to be taken indoors. like a blood horse montrose had kept up the pace until he reached the goal, and then had fallen into as unconscious a state as that of the man whom he had saved. but as his senses left him he glimpsed a glorious radiance round about him: he saw the smiling, approving face of his master, and knew that a hand was raised in benediction. and soundlessly the words of a beatitude came to him as soft and refreshing as summer rain. "blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy!" after that gracious saying he knew no more. then montrose lost count of time. from the moment when he sank in the darkness before the door of tremore until the hour he woke in his own bed time had no existence. a screened lamp illuminated the room, the blinds were drawn, the door was closed, and a fire was burning in the grate. he was clasping a tender hand, and his eyes opened to see the face of alice bending over him with that motherly look which all women give to men in time of sickness. it was certainly night, montrose thought dreamily, and he probably had been carried to his bedroom a few minutes since. but how had alice come so swiftly from the cave? was this another miracle in this life of miracles? "did you come after us?" he asked weakly. the girl uttered a cry as his lips moved and thankful tears fell on his pale face. "douglas! do you know me?" "alice! yes, i know. alice! i am all right." he strove to rise, but fell back. "you are weak still," said the girl, arranging his pillow, "don't attempt too much, dearest. take this," and a strengthening drink was held to his lips. "but i must see what is happening," muttered montrose impatiently, his brain becoming gradually clearer. "your father lies insensible at the door with that coastguard in charge." "father is in bed and the coastguard is gone, douglas. it was last night you came here." "last night! impossible! it is night still." "my dear one, you have slept for twenty-four hours. the doctor said it was the best thing that could happen after the strain you have undergone. you will soon grow strong. i am your nurse and have been watching you for hours and hours. now," alice rose and moved towards the fire, "you shall have some soup." "i do feel tremendously hungry," admitted the patient; "and your father?" "hush!" alice's face grew sad. "you must not talk. shortly you shall know all that has taken place. drink the soup and then try to sleep." montrose wilfully argued and objected, but the girl was firm. finally he finished the bowl of broth and closed his eyes again. when he was quite asleep alice left the housekeeper to watch beside him through the night and retired to her own room for a much-needed rest. anxious as she was about many matters both with regard to her lover and her father, weariness, mental and physical, demanded its due and she slept soundly until ten o'clock the next morning. her first waking thought was for her father, and after she had learned his present condition she sought the sick-room of her lover. but montrose was no longer sick. he was up and dressed, with a healthy colour in his cheeks and very bright eyes, ready for his breakfast and anxious to learn what had taken place during his insensible condition. even the thought that he might be arrested on that very day did not daunt him. knowing his innocence, and aware that he had conquered selfish fear to the extent of saving the life of the sole witness who could condemn him, he felt convinced that in some way--he did not know how--things would be made smooth. therefore he went down to the dining-room with alice and, after making a good meal, he accompanied her to her very own sitting-room to hear explanations. "your father is in danger of death, you say?" he asked, when they were seated. "yes, douglas. the fall hurt his spine and the doctor does not think that he will recover. however, he is sensible enough and can talk." "what does he say?" asked montrose nervously. "scarcely a word. and that is why i am so anxious to hear from you all that took place after you left the cave. both the coastguards told me much; but you can tell me more. in the first place, where did you meet my father?" "in the first place," said montrose, asking a counter-question, "am i to be arrested for murdering narvaez?" "no! while you have been asleep wonderful discoveries have been made and your character has been entirely cleared. it was job trevel who broke don pablo's neck." "job? but his mother said that he went out fishing some hours before the death!" said the young man, startled and puzzled by the revelation. "so his mother truly thought. job did go down to take his boat out, but jealousy of rose brought him back to polwellin. he suspected that she intended to see don pablo, and when he found she had gone out he followed her to the cottage on chance. rose was there after you left and don pablo came out with her to the gate. then job, crazy with anger, sprang on him and--you know the rest." "i don't know how job escaped, or why rose held her tongue when i was in danger of arrest for what i did not do!" "rose ran home terribly afraid lest she should be accused of having had something to do with the murder, and took to her bed intending to be silent out of selfish fear. job returned to his boat and went away. he has not yet returned, and i don't think he ever will." "but how was this found out?" "the doctor who attended rose became suspicious of something she said when half delirious. he told the perchton inspector, who saw rose and forced her to reveal the truth. now the police are hunting for job, and you are entirely exonerated, although you will no doubt be called upon to state the hour when you left don pablo." "thank god for his mercies," said montrose devoutly. "it is a most amazing thing, alice. and to think that last night i nearly decided to let your father die, since he alone would witness against me." "i expect that was the test that dr. eberstein spoke of, douglas. i don't know how my father came to be on the spot unless he followed me by stealth when i came to see you at the cave." montrose nodded. "no doubt your father suspected you and followed as you say, dear. the moment i reached the top of the cliff, he rushed at me, but making a mistake about the distance in the gloom, he hurled himself over the precipice. i saw that his body was lying half way down, and it was in my mind to leave him there. oh! what a struggle i had," cried the young man passionately, "only christ's love could have nerved me to save the man." "yes! yes!" alice fondled his hand. "the descent was very dangerous." "it is not that i was thinking about. that was nothing. but my doubts, my hesitation: my desire to save my own life at the cost of his. i wonder my hair has not turned grey. and to think that all the time things were coming to a point which would proclaim my innocence. had i let your father die i should have committed a purposeless crime. but thanks be to christ the all-loving and all-powerful, i did as i would be done by, and gave my enemy his life. what a moment of anguish it was: what a bitter, bitter moment," and the young man wiped the perspiration from his brow. alice drew his head down on her breast and murmured over him as a mother murmurs over a child. and montrose really was a child at the moment as what he had passed through shook him still to the core of his being. "it's all right now, dear; it's all right now," she urged gently. "you have conquered your greatest enemy." "your father?" "no, dear, yourself. and perhaps my father also. he does not seem to be so bitter against you as he was. twice he smiled when your name was mentioned." "then he has recovered?" "he will never recover," said the girl sadly. "the doctor says that his spine is injured." "poor man!" cried douglas generously, "can i not see him?" "not at present. the doctor says he is to be kept quiet just now." alice burst into distressful tears. "heaven only knows that i have little reason to love my father; but it is heart-rending to see him lying there, broken down and helpless, with no future save a painful death." this time it was her lover's turn to soothe and console. drawing the sobbing girl closer to his heart, he said what he could. "death is the gate of life, we are told, dear." alice made no reply. the phrase did not tend to disperse her grief, which was rather that of pity than of love, although the two are so much akin that the one can scarcely be distinguished from the other. montrose wisely said no more, thinking truly that silence was more comforting than words, and they both remained silent for some minutes. a knock at the door parted them, and alice dried her tears to receive a card from the incoming servant. at once her sad face lighted up with pleasure and hope. "oh, douglas, dr. eberstein has come," she exclaimed joyfully. "bring the gentleman here at once, at once!" and when the servant had departed the girl turned to her lover with an air of relief. "the doctor will put everything right. i feel certain of that." "so do i," replied douglas confidently. "he may even cure your father." eberstein was shown in at this moment, and when the door was closed, he walked over to montrose with a glad smile to place his two hands on the young man's shoulders. "you have conquered, my son. as a true follower of the blessed one you have forgiven your enemy in the face of overwhelming temptation to act otherwise." "then mr. enistor truly was my enemy?" asked montrose hurriedly. "life after life he has been your enemy. remember the vision which you saw in london, and the wounded man who came between you and the girl you love." "enistor!" eberstein bowed his head. "he was then a priest of the star-angel, mars, in chaldea. alice was a vestal and you a noble who loved her. i warned you then not to pluck the fruit before it was ripe, but you would, and in carrying away the girl you murdered enistor. this is the sin which has parted you and alice for many ages. now the debt is paid; for the life you destroyed you have given a life in saving your enemy. the shadow has vanished, and now," eberstein placed the hand of alice in that of montrose, "now you are one once more. in union lies strength, therefore let the sorrows you have passed through bind you truly together for service to god." "how wonderful! how wonderful!" gasped alice, holding tightly to her lover as if she feared to lose him again. "will there be no more trouble?" "the troubles which all undergo when dwelling in the flesh. but these, in many cases, you will be able to avert, since you have much light and more will be given. but the dark karma of chaldea has been dispersed for ever. thank god, my children, that you have been so wonderfully guided through the mists of error into the clear day of truth." "we do thank him," said douglas reverently, "and you for so guiding us." "i am but the instrument used for god's high purpose," said eberstein, with a solemn look, "and i thank him that i have been so honoured. now you both must do as you have been done by, and aid in the salvation of korah enistor." "my father! how can we do that?" inquired alice anxiously. "we must wait for the arrival of that son of perdition who wishes to keep that most unhappy soul in bondage. then will love and hate battle for the prize. the result depends upon that soul's choice." "but narvaez is dead," said montrose, puzzled. "narvaez is more alive than ever in the body of julian hardwick." "oh!" alice recognised the truth of this astounding statement at once. "i knew julian was different: that he was evil instead of good." "you sensed narvaez' black soul in hardwick's body," said eberstein simply. "be strong, be ready; for the hour of strife is at hand." "let us pray!" cried alice fervently, and the two did pray with full hearts, while the master strengthened the selfless petition. chapter xxiii the eternal strife for three days enistor lingered on, fighting inch by inch for his life with obstinate courage. the doctor told him that there was no hope, but he declined to believe in such croakings. with all his pride and all his will he resisted the coming dissolution of his body, and therefore lived much longer than would have been the case had he been of a less resolute nature. night and day alice and the housekeeper nursed him by turns, and he seemed grateful for their attentions, although he said very little to either. montrose wished to see the dying man and assure him of forgiveness, but enistor declined an interview. narvaez-hardwick also called with feigned expressions of regret, but was forced to depart without seeing the man his wickedness had brought so low. as to dr. eberstein, he took lodgings in the village, so as to be at hand at the last moment, and waited patiently for a summons to the bedside. "it will come," he assured montrose. "it will surely come, since the last act of this terrible drama has to be played by all who have taken part in it, with the exception of hardwick, who has done his share and passed over. but you and alice and narvaez and i have to face enistor." "for what purpose?" the doctor answered rather irrelevantly. "the extension of enistor's life beyond what is natural, considering his injuries, is not permitted without a good reason. the poor creature is taking part in a tremendous struggle between the little good he has in him, and the enormous quantity of evil which, through ignorance, he has accumulated in this and other lives. i am trying constantly to increase that good, while narvaez is putting forth all his wicked power to strengthen the evil." "who will win, you or narvaez?" asked montrose abruptly. "only god knows the issue of the conflict, my son, since enistor, having free-will, can choose either the good or the bad, the left-hand path or the right-hand path. you were given the same choice in another way, but with you the power of love prevailed. whether it will prevail with this miserable man depends upon himself." "but cannot you tell, master? you know so much." "i know much, but i do not know all. god alone is omniscient. did not one of your poets say: 'we mortal millions live alone'? that is a great truth greatly put. each soul must find god for itself through christ by the power of the holy ghost. it can be helped and instructed by those who, like myself, are humble servants of the most high, but the soul alone can choose whether to rise or fall. i tell you, montrose, much as enistor suffers physically, he is infinitely more tormented mentally. night and day, and day and night, the strife continues between evil and good, in which narvaez and i take part. only enistor can elect which side will win." "can i not help?" asked the young man, distressed at the terrible plight of his whilom enemy. "you have helped--helped greatly. enistor is constantly trying to understand why you saved him, when he could have, and would have, condemned you to a shameful and unmerited death. it is well nigh impossible for him to grasp such self-abnegation, but the positive fact that you acted as you did is the spar to which he clings, and which prevents him from sinking in the troubled waters of evil desires which narvaez is bringing up against him." "why don't you smash narvaez?" "that would be against the law of justice. narvaez has his rights, as every one else has. if he chooses to abuse those rights he will bring destruction on himself, as he is surely doing. hate only ceases by love, so all that i can do is to offer narvaez the assistance which he refuses to take. with my greater powers, poured through me for selfless ends by the god of all, i could use force and render him harmless. but such force would mean employment of the power of hate. the influence is always the same in its essence, but becomes good or evil as we employ it." "still, if you ended don pablo's wickedness, enistor would be saved." "i cannot tell. but he cannot be saved at the cost of injustice to narvaez, my son. by his own acts in this life and others he has placed himself in the power of narvaez, and must abide by his choice." "still he may want to escape?" "if so, and i truly hope that such will be the case, he has only to open his heart to the incoming of christ, and the mighty power of the blessed one will sweep away narvaez like a straw. love is stronger than evil, and must prevail when election is made to use it. now go, my son, for even now the son of perdition is putting forth his strength to overwhelm the soul, and i must withstand him. pray constantly, my child, and tell alice to pray; for the fight is desperately bitter." without a word montrose departed, leaving eberstein to wrestle with the powers of darkness. seeking alice, he brought her to the altar of the parish church, and there they remained kneeling for many hours. it was well that they fled for refuge to the tabernacle of god, for within all was light, and the dark powers halted at the door, helpless, fierce and furious, and--baffled. during those days of the struggle montrose's worldly position had been made secure. the confession of rose, who had seen narvaez murdered, proved beyond all doubt that job trevel was the culprit. that man never returned now or thereafter, and it could only be conjectured that he had been lost at sea in the storm which took place when the crime was committed. but montrose was fully exonerated, and in their rough way the villagers of polwellin apologised for their wrongful suspicions. he more than regained the place he had lost in their affections, for the coastguards had told everywhere how the squire had been rescued and at what a cost. that enistor should have been saved at all was a matter of regret to his tenants, who detested him for his many acts of oppression. throughout the village there was not heard one pitying word for the man now at the point of death, so doubtless this feeling of ill-will also tormented enistor in his then sensitive state. but as the man had sown, so the man had to reap, and by his own acts he was condemned to a punishment which went far to excuse his wickedness. in reply to alice's telegram mrs. barrast came down to see the last of her brother and was desperately annoyed to find--as she thought--that he had completely recovered. of course for his own ends narvaez-hardwick played the part of a grateful brother, and to get rid of the little woman he gave her a handsome cheque out of the property he had acquired. that the same had merely been transferred from narvaez to narvaez was a fact not known to mrs. barrast, who quite believed--and very naturally--that julian had been cured in some miraculous way of his illness by the perchton doctor. what that gentleman himself thought no one ever knew, as he held his tongue very wisely, through sheer inability to explain matters. but his practice benefited greatly, and he made full use of his enhanced reputation. mrs. barrast thanked him for the wonder he had wrought, said that she would mention his skill to her friends and send them to perchton for treatment. then she went across the channel with frederick to spend the handsome cheque in paris and did not trouble any further about her brother. which was just what the individual masquerading in that brother's body desired. hardwick's sister was such a trifling little butterfly that it was not worth while breaking her on a wheel. even if, out of sheer malicious amusement, the magician had wished to do so, he had no time. all his energies were taken up in fighting the strong power of eberstein for the soul of his escaping slave. the adversaries came to grips on the night of the fourth day after montrose had wiped out his sin by the rescue of his enemy. after dinner on that evening, alice and her lover were waiting in the library, feeling sorrowful and depressed. the young man was seated in an arm-chair before the fire and alice, on the hearth-rug, inclined her dark head against his knees. having watched throughout the previous night by the bedside, she had slept all day, and now was giving her whole attention to douglas before returning to her new vigil in the sick-room. neither of the two was speaking, as the shadow of evil lay thicker and blacker than ever on the house, and there was a feeling still more terrible in the air. montrose felt little of such things, cased as he was in less sensitive flesh; but alice was alive to battling forces, invisible and menacing, which thrilled her soul with agony and helpless grief. "death is here," she said at length, without removing her gaze from the burning logs, and montrose knew enough of her clairvoyant powers not to exclaim at the weird remark. "do you think he will die to-night?" he asked, looking nervously round the brilliantly lighted room. "i think so. something dreadful is coming nearer and nearer. very cold, very powerful, yet very merciful." montrose shuddered and recalled a play by maeterlinck which he had read some years back. the atmosphere of the library was exactly that suggested by "l'intruse," and he felt, as did the characters in that wonderful piece of writing, that the being with the scythe was about to enter the door. when a sharp knock came, his shaken nerves extorted a start and a cry. but it was only the housekeeper who came to announce that she wanted alice to take up the watch by enistor's bedside and also to tell both the young people that two gentlemen had arrived simultaneously at tremore. "mr. hardwick and dr. eberstein," said the housekeeper. "tell them to come in," replied alice quietly, in marked contrast to her lover, who started to his feet much perturbed. "why do they come together?" he asked uneasily. "they have never met before to my knowledge." "it is the beginning of the end, douglas!" "they then bring death with them?" "señor narvaez brings death and dr. eberstein brings life," said alice, still in the unemotional tone which she had used throughout. "but not in a physical way, you understand. hush! here they are." the two men entered quietly: narvaez, splendid and strong in the beauty of his stolen body, and eberstein, elderly, grey-haired, and weary-looking. but alice, looking through the masks of flesh, saw that they lied. eberstein was the ever-young, glorious soul, radiant with immortal life, and narvaez but a black evil shadow, distorted and venomous. outwardly the magician resembled milton's fallen archangel, magnificently sinful, while the doctor, like his great master the man of sorrows, seemed to bear the burden of other people's sins. here indeed were the representatives of the eternal strife, the types of heaven and hell, bearing the cross and the wine-cup. and the world-battle on a smaller scale was about to be fought out between them. as alice greeted the one and the other, the housekeeper turned at the door to speak. "the squire knows that dr. eberstein and mr. hardwick have come, miss, as i told him. he would like to see them along with you and mr. montrose. but i don't think it is wise, miss." "you can go," said the girl quietly, and the housekeeper departed, grumbling at the risk of visitors to the sick man. "shall we see my father now?" she addressed eberstein, who bowed, for the situation was too tense for the use of many words. but narvaez spoke with an insolent smile. "i hope mr. enistor will not be the worse for my coming." "i think he will be very much the worse, don pablo." "i am your dear friend, julian hardwick," sneered the magician. "i know better." "clever girl. but you do not know all," he taunted. "enough to be aware that you are an evil man, exercising more than human power. also dr. eberstein has recalled to my recollection what i saw during the trance. i know who you are, señor narvaez, and what you are. with me you cannot masquerade as an angel of light." "i leave that rôle to our friend here," scoffed the other with a shrug. eberstein did not take the slightest notice. with narvaez he was very watchful, but intensely quiet: always on his guard, but never offering the fuel of words to kindle useless argument. and time being precious at the moment, he softly intimated to alice that it would be as well to seek the bedroom immediately. without objection the girl led the way, and shortly the whole party were in the presence of the squire. enistor lay in bed, propped up with many pillows. other than a shaded lamp on a small table beside him, there was no illumination save the crimson glimmer of the fire, so that the room was filled with a kind of artificial twilight, sinister and eerie. it was a large apartment furnished in that heavy cumbersome style prevalent during the first half of the last century, eminently comfortable but markedly inartistic. the green rep curtains of the bed were looped back to show the white suffering face and sunken eyes of the sick man, on whom the gaze of the quartette was centred. the silence was intense; as the rain had ceased, the wind had died away, and only the heavy breathing of those present, or the fall of a burning coal, broke the stillness. this calm before the storm suggested itself to alice as much more terrible than the storm itself could possibly be. it seemed as though the whole of creation waited anxiously to hear what choice the dying man would make between evil and good. the words came slowly from him, as he fixed his weary eyes on montrose with wondering inquiry. "why did you save my life?" he asked. "i was sorry for you." "sorry for one who intended to have you hanged for a crime you did not commit. impossible!" "that i saved you showed it was not impossible. i had a struggle: oh, yes, i had a great struggle. not knowing that my character would be cleared, i nearly decided to let you perish lest you should condemn me. but i could not: i could not." "why?" demanded enistor insistently. "why? why?" montrose pressed his hands tightly together to control his emotions. "how can i explain? something higher than my ordinary self acted for me." "the christ, who is building himself up within you, spoke," said eberstein gravely. "weakness spoke," struck in the magician. "the weakness of a coward who was afraid to remove an obstacle from his path." "montrose did remove an obstacle," said the doctor, addressing narvaez-hardwick for the first time. "one which was blocking his upward path." "his murder of me in chaldea?" questioned enistor, after a pause. "yes! he owed you a life. only by giving back in another way what he had robbed you of could he learn his lesson and cleanse his soul." "where is the life that has been given?" sneered narvaez-hardwick. "there is enistor dying. a valuable gift indeed." "montrose did not know that enistor was fatally injured by his fall. so far as he was aware he gave back what he had taken and at the risk of losing his present life unjustly. the sheet is clean." "sophistry! sophistry! you are trying to make black white." "not so. man is judged by his intention in whatever he does. thought precedes both words and acts, so if the first be right the two last cannot be wrong." "we are here to listen to a sermon, it appears," said the other man mockingly. "you are woefully dull." eberstein ignored the spiteful speech to advance towards the bed. "enistor, you are about to pass away from the physical plane to reap as you have sown, and painful will be the harvesting of your sheaves." "tares he should call them," mocked narvaez-hardwick contemptuously. "not all tares. always the germs of good have been in your victim." "a victim! i?" cried the squire, pride and indignation lighting up his faded eyes, to the delight of his dark master, who approved of the sinister quality. "yes," said eberstein steadily. "age after age, life after life, you have been the victim, the slave, the tool of this man, who is stronger than you are. by taking his gifts, you have submitted yourself to his will. break your chain, enistor: now, at this very moment, assert your freedom as a son of god, owing allegiance only to that power of love which is co-extensive with creation." "and by so doing you render yourself the servant of all," said narvaez-hardwick vehemently. "whatever you gain you must use for the benefit of others and not for yourself. think of it." "yes," came the quiet voice of the white master. "think of it, and think of how the powers you gain through evil are used for the benefit of your dark tyrant. he does not even give you gratitude." "i give more than gratitude: my gifts are more substantial. virtue is not its own reward in my service. service indeed. and who has done service? i ask you, enistor. did i not scheme to place this young fool in your power, and did i not do so? you failed to use the golden moment properly and crush him, or you would by now have been wealthy, by regaining your lost property, and he would have been waiting his trial in prison. have i not rendered you a great service? do i not deserve gratitude in return?" "gratitude for ruining me," said enistor, wincing at the fiery glances cast upon him. "you ask too much. you have plotted and planned, it is true, but your schemes have been brought to naught." "by you," said narvaez-hardwick scornfully, "since you failed to grasp the prize i placed within your reach." "it was douglas who conquered," said alice suddenly. "he chose the good instead of the evil, and hate was overcome by love. father," she moved forward swiftly to kneel beside the bed, "you have no bitterness against douglas now: you cannot have since he has saved your life." "for the moment," scoffed the magician, "a pretty saving truly." "i have had a terrible time since regaining my senses," said the squire feebly. "all my old life has been broken up, and i am beginning to see things in a new light. love is stronger than hate, i admit that, since montrose acted so unselfishly as he did. douglas," he held out a trembling hand, which the young man gladly took, "i thank you for what you have done, and i ask you to forgive me." "willingly! willingly," said montrose, with fervour. "if we had only understood one another better, you would not now be dying." "there is no question of dying," cried narvaez-hardwick, furious to see how his empire was slipping from his grasp. "don't hearken to this weak babble, enistor. listen, i can cure you: i can make you as well as ever you were." the girl and her lover started up with incredulous looks and enistor gasped in amazement. "can he do this?" he demanded, looking at eberstein. "yes," assented the other calmly. "his knowledge is great, even though it is wrongly used." "wrongly used to cure the sick? ha! what of your master who saved the lives of those past human aid?" "he saved through the power of love, and left those he saved free. you would use that same power after your own evil fashion, changing its good into bad, so that you can bind enistor the more closely to you as a slave." "slave! slave! what parrot repetition. always slave: victim: tool! lies, i tell you, enistor, lies. you are my friend. if i did make you suffer, it was to test your strength, so that you might become strong enough to handle those great powers which i use. i can make you omnipotent as i am myself." "omnipotent," echoed the squire doubtfully. "how can that be when you were struck down in your moment of triumph?" "i was taken by surprise," said narvaez-hardwick sullenly. "had i been on my guard i could have held my own." "i think not," observed the doctor gently; then addressing enistor directly, with marked emphasis: "my son, creation is sustained by love, and where love is not, destruction must needs come. by pandering to self, this man has acquired a small empire, which he has cut off from the great one of god. his force is only that little which he has gained and which he is strong enough to hold. but my force," eberstein stood up very straightly, "is the force of the whole, which is necessarily greater than the force of the part acquired by narvaez. through me, as through all who strive to work selflessly, the mighty power of love is poured, for the benefit of those who need aid. only this can give you power, and will you consent to be a slave in the petty kingdom of this man, which will be destroyed when his measure is full?" "it will never be destroyed," cried the magician, hatefully proud. "for centuries i have endured alone, defying all." "you seek isolation, and isolation you shall have," said eberstein sadly. "life after life you are building thicker and thicker the prison-house which shuts you in from the source of all life. oh, my brother, have we not pleaded with you again and again to repent, and turn to him who alone sustains the worlds, and you will not, in your mad pride of self. rapidly and surely you are descending into the abyss, and would drag this man with you. but so great is the love of christ, who died for you and for all, that he will forgive you even at the eleventh hour, as he forgives this poor mortal." "i haven't asked for forgiveness!" growled enistor savagely. "no. don't be so weak," said narvaez-hardwick eagerly. "eberstein talks rubbish. if you turn to his foolish ways will he save your life?" "no," said the doctor with decision. "enistor must pass on to exhaust the evil that he has made by suffering. but in that necessary suffering he will be supported and aided by him who suffered himself." "there," the magician turned triumphantly towards enistor, "you see that he can only promise pain. a nice bribe for you to turn into a silly saint, isn't it, my friend? now i"--the man's voice became dangerously persuasive and bland--"i can make you whole again by curing your hurt and renewing your vital powers. you have heard eberstein admit that i can do so. then, since you have stood the tests of inflicted pain, which were necessary, i can now instruct you in the higher magic, which will give you power over men. also i can make you rich. let this money of your sister's remain with montrose and let him marry your daughter and pass out of your life. you and i, my dear friend, will go to spain, and there you shall share in my greatness. together we shall sway this generation, making and unmaking men and nations." "don't listen to him: don't listen to him," implored alice, putting her arms round her father's neck. "remember how cruel he has been to you: remember how he was struck down by god: remember how his schemes have failed. he is a liar, like his father the devil." "there is no devil but what man makes for himself," sneered narvaez-hardwick. "but we will let that pass. you have heard, enistor. eberstein offers you death in this world and pain in the next----" "through which you will pass to a wider and more glorious life, when the past has been expiated," said the doctor swiftly. "while i," went on the magician, paying no heed to the interruption, "can give you a long physical life with power and wealth, and ease and knowledge. also in the next world i have my empire and you shall share it when we pass over this time, to return more powerful when we next incarnate. choose! choose!" "aye, choose," said eberstein solemnly. "the path of pleasure, which leads to destruction, or the path of pain, which ends in the radiant light of the godhead. the narrow way: the broad way: the way of the cross, or the way of the wine-cup in which the serpent of self lurks." on one side of the bed stood the dark master, on the other stood the white master, and between, prone with anguish, lay the body which contained the soul for which the opposing forces of good and evil struggled. alice clung to her father and montrose knelt prayerfully by the bed. the room was charged with battling powers, but in that dread moment of choice the influence of both stood aloof from the soul, which had to make its choice by what knowledge it had garnered painfully through many incarnations. enistor felt suddenly feeble, felt that he was in a dense gloom, pricked here and there with wan lights, which represented all the good he had gained: and great indeed was the blackness of evil. of himself he could do nothing, yet he knew intuitively that behind the gloom was a glorious and radiant power of love, which would dispel the evil when called upon. narvaez offered him the kingdoms of the world, which rise and fall and pass away as a burning scroll: eberstein offered him the glories of eternal good, which endure for ever and ever. he had in many lives tested the lower: now was the time to reach out to the higher. yet so strong was the temptation of the flesh that the man paused, hesitated, faltered and held his peace. alice sensed the conflict, and strove to surrender her gain of good to him who had treated her so cruelly. "if it is permitted, let what i can give go to help my father," she cried, and then the miracle happened. enistor felt an inrush of light, not very strong yet wholly pure, and it was sufficient to turn the scale in spite of the strong insistence of the evil darkness. yet not in such strength could he conquer. something greater was needed, but the aid of alice gave him power to call upon the greater might. "hear us, oh! christ: graciously hear us, oh! lord christ," he cried, in the suddenly remembered words of the litany, and in broken tones. narvaez retreated suddenly with a snarl of baffled rage, driven back by a glorious power, which flooded the being of his escaping victim with ineffable light. as by magic the darkness vanished, and the radiant tenderness of perfect love descended upon the weary soul. enistor's face grew young and bright. with an expression of joyful awe, he stretched out imploring hands of surrender and remorse. what he beheld eberstein saw, as his head was reverently bent, and narvaez saw also, for he fell back slowly towards the door; driven into his self-created darkness by the overwhelming glory of the cross. alice, clinging to montrose, murmured incoherently: "do you see him: do you see him? there. with his hand on my father's head." the lord of the dark face had vanished: the lord of compassion had come in power. like a child who is weary the dying man fell dead on the pillows, his soul passing onward so gently that the two young people scarcely realised that all was over. a moment later, and the presence was gone. the supernal light, visible to all save douglas, faded away, and eberstein stepped forward silently to close the tired eyes. "may god lead him to a place of refreshment, light and peace," he said in solemn tones, and over the body he traced the holy emblem of salvation. "amen," murmured the two who knelt by the bedside. and away into the night fled the son of perdition, baffled, broken and beaten, despoiled of his slave, who was lost to him for ever. and his was the eternal torment of self, which flies though no man pursueth. chapter xxiv dawn for six months after the death of her father alice travelled abroad, with mrs. sparrow as her chaperon and companion. the strain to which she had been subjected demanded removal from surroundings so intimately connected with the ordeal, and meanwhile tremore could be safely left in charge of the housekeeper. it was with some reluctance that montrose agreed to the continental tour, which had been suggested by eberstein, as it parted him for half a year from the girl he loved. but the doctor pointed out that absence would make alice more self-reliant, since she would have to deal single-handed with her sorrow, unaided by her lover's sympathy and companionship. each human being, he declared, must learn to become a centre of power, depending on god alone for help, since only in this way can such a one develop the necessary strength to act as a useful servant of christ. it was a drastic training for the young people, at which they winced; but when eberstein fully convinced them that the flesh must be dominated by the spirit at all costs, they agreed to the separation. it was a final test of their obedience, and a great one. alice selected mrs. sparrow to accompany her, for two reasons. first, she was sorry for the childish woman, who led so dull a life, and wished to brighten her grey existence. secondly, the girl was immensely grateful to both the vicar and his wife for their championship of montrose in the face of strong evidence as to his guilt, and desired to give some tangible proof of her feelings. indeed she asked mr. sparrow to come abroad also, but met with a refusal, since he could not see his way to leave his parish for so lengthy a period. however, douglas induced the good man to pay him a few visits in london during his wife's absence, and these gave great pleasure to mr. sparrow, besides which they helped to widen his views. therefore he was delighted to think that his better half should chaperon miss enistor, and took unselfish pleasure in the preparations for the great event. as to mrs. sparrow, to journey abroad, and see with her own eyes very many things she had only read about, was like a glimpse of paradise, or a drink of water to a thirsty man. she left behind her a colourless life of scraping and screwing, of cutting and contriving, to enjoy comfortable days of ample means and constant novelty. france, switzerland, italy, germany: mrs. sparrow saw them all, and wrote daily letters to her husband concerning her experiences. her being blossomed like a rose in the sunlight of prosperity, and she regained in a great measure the youth which had been crushed out of her by sordid cares. alice enjoyed the naive delight of her rejuvenated companion as much as she did the sights which brought forth such an expression of pleasure, and in this way, amongst others, was aided to forget her late trials. the tour was a complete success, and when the two returned to england during the early blossoming of spring, they were bubbling over with the joy of life. and the end of the journey terminated in lovers meeting, which was fit and proper, according to the dictum of shakespeare. the sorely tried pair were married quietly in london. mr. sparrow came up to perform the ceremony, mrs. sparrow acted as the one and only bridesmaid, while dr. eberstein gave the bride away. then came a pleasant wedding breakfast and the departure of mr. and mrs. douglas montrose to eastbourne for a delightful honeymoon. mrs. barrast was annoyed that she had not been asked to the great event, since the wooing had taken place in her house, but she soon got over her pique, and sent a present to the happy pair, together with a letter in which she complained that julian, exiled in spain, took not the slightest notice of her. douglas laughed over the characteristic selfishness of the butterfly, and wondered openly what she would say if she really knew the weird truth. alice replied that she would never believe it, which was extremely probable, considering mrs. barrast's limitations. "and i only hope that don pablo will leave her alone," continued mrs. montrose. "he is just the kind of man who would play her some malicious trick." "i don't think he would be permitted to do that," rejoined douglas thoughtfully. "narvaez is a kind of super-human criminal, and will be kept within bounds by the great powers which control the world. mrs. barrast is a frivolous little woman, who does no harm, even if she does no good, so she will be protected until she is strong enough to endure suffering." "it seems rather cruel that if one gains strength and improves one's character, one should only grow better to invite sorrow." "we cannot become gods in any other way, dear. the burden is always fitted to the bearer, and what is demanded from the strong is not asked from the weak. 'whom god loveth, he chasteneth,' you know." "i could never understand that text," objected alice, raising her eyebrows. "eberstein explained it to me," replied her husband. "through ignorance one accumulates bad karma, life after life, which is gradually paid off in such a way as not to bear too hardly on those who have to suffer. and until that karma, which is of our own making, is paid off, we are unprofitable servants working--so to speak--only for ourselves, since it is to get rid of the burdens which inconvenience us that we labour. but when any one vows himself or herself to the service of christ and desires to work, as the master did, for humanity at large, the evil karma must be got rid of very speedily, so as to leave freedom for the work." "well?" asked alice, when he paused, and still not seeing clearly. "cannot you understand? the quicker the karma is paid off, the sooner will the servant of christ be free to do what he or she wants in the service of the master. thus an appeal is made by the soul to god for such freedom, and it is answered by the payment of the evil being concentrated in three or four lives, whereas, ordinarily speaking, it would be spread over a hundred. therefore at the soul's request, trouble after trouble descends without intermission, and the greater speed means the greater pain. thus do we see many people of blameless lives suffering terribly and, humanly speaking, unjustly. but the chastening is only the love of god drawing them swiftly to himself by allowing them--at their own request, mind you--to pay off the evil of past ignorance at one sweep--so to speak--instead of by instalments." "i see. but mrs. barrast?" "she is in the a b c class. only easy payments are demanded from her." "what about ourselves? are we free?" "in a great measure i think we are--for this incarnation at least, since we have been so bitterly tried. but of course i cannot tell if we have discharged all the evil debts of the past. i don't much care. what is gained is well worth the pain." alice shivered. "the pain is very great." "so is the gain. if one works for super-human things, one must be content to suffer more than the ordinary person. but don't distress yourself over such things, dear heart," added her husband, taking her in his arms. "we have passed through the clouds and now stand in the sunshine, so what we have to do is to help others as we were helped." "i have helped mrs. sparrow, and you have helped her husband," said alice thankfully. "she is quite a different woman, so gay and bright and hopeful." "and sparrow is as happy as the day is long. as the living is in your gift, alice, i have arranged to add to the income, so that the two may enjoy more of the good things of this life. and when we live at tremore we can do much good in the parish." "yes! yes!" mrs. montrose's face lighted up. "i am quite anxious to get back and begin some good work. but"--her face clouded--"it will not be pleasant to live in tremore: it is such a gloomy house, and the atmosphere--ugh!" she shuddered at the memory. montrose laughed in an encouraging manner. "as you gave me permission to do what i liked with the house during your absence, i have made very great improvements," he said significantly; "also dr. eberstein is there at present." "why?" alice was curious. "wait and see. i don't fancy you will find tremore such a disappointing residence as you think it will be." try as alice might, she could get no further satisfaction on this point, and consequently became desperately anxious to return and see what had taken place. montrose resisted her desire to go back until he received a telegram from the doctor, and then agreed that they should start for cornwall on the next day. during the journey from eastbourne to london, and the journey from paddington to perchton, they talked hopefully about the future and made many agreeable plans, mainly concerned with asking less fortunate people to share the happiness and wealth which they enjoyed. for unlike ordinary mortals this bride and bridegroom looked to finding happiness in clothing the naked and feeding the hungry, in teaching the ignorant and comforting the desolate. only the man who has had toothache can fully sympathise with the man who has it, and in a like manner what douglas and alice had suffered made them intensely anxious to save others if possible from the purgatory of pain. it was an astonishingly unselfish attitude for a happy pair returning from their honeymoon to adopt, since such people are usually wrapped up entirely in themselves. but then they had been fortunate enough to have the friendship of eberstein and the enmity of narvaez to bring them to such a pitch of noble resolve. at perchton, the bride and bridegroom were received by the vicar and his wife, a very different couple from what they had been some months previously. there was no greyness about the bright-faced woman: no stolid endurance of a dismal life about the genial man. mr. sparrow was cheery and helpful: mrs. sparrow smiled on one and all, beautifully dressed, and looking years younger. they had learned to be optimistic, instead of giving themselves over to religious pessimism, and were able to enjoy the gracious beauty of the world without the rebuke of a morbid conscience. sparrow preached more about the loving father of the new testament, and dwelt less on the jealous and angry god of the jewish theology. alice and her husband had begun their work well, for they had humanised two people by helpful kindness, and had their reward when they saw the beaming looks of the couple. "and dr. eberstein is at tremore," said the vicar, when the motor-car was whirling across the long, white moorland road. "you will be pleased to see him, mrs. montrose." "of course, mr. sparrow. dr. eberstein is the best friend my husband and i ever had, or ever could have." "i agree," said mrs. sparrow brightly. "he is a most delightful man." "i think so myself, and i approve of him," remarked the vicar thoughtfully, "although his views are scarcely orthodox. he believes in the strange doctrine of reincarnation; although i am bound to say he did not attempt to convert me to his way of thinking." "did you attempt to convert him?" asked montrose, with twinkling eyes. "well, i did," confessed mr. sparrow, "as it seemed a pity such a man should be in error, and credit a pagan belief which has come down to us from the dark ages. but he merely smiled and declined to argue. it is a great pity," repeated the vicar regretfully, "as he does much good and possesses a really fine nature. however, we must not lose heart. he may yet change his views." "i scarcely think he will," said montrose dryly. "and as he is a servant of christ as you are, what does it matter?" "there is much to be said on that point," retorted mr. sparrow sententiously. "for you know that christ said nothing about reincarnation and----" "edgar," interrupted mrs. sparrow quickly, "this is not the time to talk of such things. later, dear, later. meanwhile, i am sure that alice is anxious to know all that has taken place in polwellin since she went away." "nothing has taken place, jane. things remain as they were. though i am glad to say," ended the vicar hopefully, "that the parishioners pay greater attention to my sermons than they did." "because you preach more cheerfully, dear," said his wife, and then addressed herself to alice: "dame trevel is quite reconciled to the loss of her son." "has he not returned?" asked the girl quickly. "no. and the police cannot find him. he has vanished altogether, and as there was a storm on the night he murdered don pablo, it is thought that he has been drowned." "it is very probable," struck in the vicar. "job went away without his mates--urged to flight by a guilty conscience no doubt--and so could not handle the heavy boat by himself. i am sure he has been drowned. it is just as well--if you do not think me harsh in saying so--for he would only have survived to be hanged, and that would have broken his mother's heart." "it is already broken," said mrs. sparrow, with an expression of pain. "but i can't say the same for rose penwin," she added energetically. "that misguided girl has gone to london with the idea of appearing on the stage." "well, she is beautiful and clever. she may succeed as an actress." "but the temptations, montrose! they are many. i consider señor narvaez did wrong in putting such ideas into her head. rose has been trained in my sunday school, and may resist temptation, but i dread the worst." "i hope for the best. let us not be hard on her, edgar. we are none of us perfect, you know, dear." "you are," the vicar patted his wife's hand, and by so doing added the beauty of a fond smile to her face. "and i am sure montrose thinks that his wife is." "that goes without saying," replied the newly made bridegroom, in high good humour. "here is polwellin at last." the villagers received the couple with loudly expressed joy, having an eye to the future. enistor had been a tyrant, and so desperately poor that he had extorted the last penny of rent from those who could ill afford it. but the new squire and his wife were young, and rich, and soft-hearted, so the tenants hoped for glorious times of peace and plenty. and the hope was duly fulfilled, for the relationship between polwellin and tremore became much more friendly than it had been in the old bad days. douglas, as the vicar's right hand, laboured as the moses to his aaron in dealing with the temporal prosperity of the parish, while alice acted as lady bountiful for ever and a day. therefore, having such true premonitions of a joyful future, it was no wonder that the bluff fishermen and their tall womenfolk welcomed their benefactors with loud cheers and smiling faces, as they called down profuse blessings on their young heads. at the foot of the hill rising to tremore, montrose and his wife sent on the car with their luggage, and alighted to visit the grave of enistor, which alice wished to do before re-entering her old home. the vicar and mrs. sparrow took their departure, and the girl with her husband turned aside to the grey windy god's acre wherein so many generations of the family were laid to rest. here, over the last squire's remains, rose a broken column of white marble, emblematic of his abruptly ended life. on its base was inscribed the name "korah enistor," with the date of birth and the time of death, together with the significant text from the psalms: "thou also shalt light my candle: the lord my god shall make my darkness to be light!" none but alice and her husband and eberstein understood the full meaning of the hopeful saying, therefore much comment was made on its mystery. but aware that through god's mercy her father had set his feet on the way of the cross, which leads to eternal light, the girl was able to pray for the dead without tears. douglas also removed his hat and offered up a petition for his former enemy, after which he led his wife from the churchyard towards the great house on the hill. "welcome! welcome! thrice welcome," said dr. eberstein, who waited for them with outstretched hands at the door. "now indeed, made one by the sacrament of marriage, do you step forward into the full sunshine of peace and joy, to work for the great master by helping his children." alice and her husband each clasped a hand, but could say nothing, as their hearts were too full to speak. but the servants, headed by the smiling housekeeper, demanded attention, so the young couple controlled their feelings and graciously thanked one and all for their kindly greeting. then the domestics retired to a festival of eating and drinking in the kitchen, while eberstein conducted douglas and alice through many rooms which had been rendered brighter and lighter by modern improvements. there was still the dark oak panelling, the grave family portraits, the low ceilings and old-fashioned furniture. but everything had been renovated in the best possible taste, and the effect of the whole was less gloomy than it had been. but something more than furbishing up rooms and furniture had been done to make the house feel so cheerful and bright. what it was alice could not say, and looked round with a puzzled air. the doctor enjoyed her perplexity, and when he finally led the pair into the library, guided the girl to one of the low casements. "do you see any change in the ground?" he asked, smiling. alice, who had not taken notice of her surroundings when entering the house, looked out wonderingly. the dark wood had a more cheerful appearance, as many of the trees were budding with spring green, fresh and delicate, while the ever-leafy branches of cedars and stone-pines and yews sparkled with the refreshment of a light shower, so that they also hinted at renewed youth. but the greatest marvel of all was that the space of beaten ground immediately surrounding the house was covered with an emerald carpet of turf, and the golden crocus, the pale snowdrop, and many violets were to be seen here, there, and everywhere like gleams of faint many-coloured fire. out of doors a new life seemed to burgeon and bloom, while within there was a fresh living atmosphere, charged with creative power and fertile with the promise of glorious doings, noble, unselfish, holy. quite unable to explain this mystic change from death to life, which made tremore a centre of joy and abiding tranquillity, alice turned to inquire mutely how the miracle had come about. apparently douglas knew, for douglas smiled; but he waited for the master to enlighten his wife. "i have cleansed the house," said eberstein gravely. "all those forces of hate and destruction, which created so evil an atmosphere, have been broken up and dispersed. they had their source in the selfish thoughts of your father, strongly accentuated by don pablo's wicked teaching. now that the squire is dead and narvaez has departed for ever, the shadow has lifted. by the performance of a powerful ceremony i have exorcised the dark elementals. and now----" he touched alice lightly between the eyes, bidding her use the clairvoyant sense he had thus awakened. the room was filled with a luminous rosy light, alive with scintillation of diamond brilliancy. and her sight, piercing the walls, beheld the whole house bathed in this celestial radiance, although towards the back, where the servants congregated, the clearness was somewhat dimmed by their ignorant thoughts of self. life was everywhere, pulsating in great waves, welling up gloriously from the heart of the world, so that, within and without, tremore was alive with the splendour of unhampered force. alice could now understand how the beaten ground round the house, formerly rendered barren by hate, was now covered with verdure and many-hued with flowers. love was in the mansion, love was in the garden, love was in the woodland, and that mighty power had caused the desert to blossom like a rose. the light sang, softly, musical with the murmur of innumerable bees, and the girl felt as though she were in the heart of an opalescent sphere which vibrated with harmony. when her eyes looked again on physical things, the doctor was speaking. "see that you do not disturb the harmony by any thought or word or deed of self. here you have a centre of holy power, to which those tormented by the warring forces of the world can come to find peace and heavenly refreshment. such in the days of old were the shrines, whither pilgrims travelled for the healing of their souls. you and your husband are the guardians of this place, and here many weary men and women will come for solace. see that you send them not empty away. a great trust is reposed in you, my children; a great work is given you to do. thank therefore the christ who has chosen you for this service of love." after this solemn admonition, eberstein became his usual quiet genial self, and passed a very pleasant evening with the young couple. after dinner he discoursed to them at length, giving many wise counsels, and instructing them how to deal with the future. when they retired to rest he told them to rise at sunrise and meet him in the garden, since it was his intention to leave tremore before breakfast. knowing that he had much work to do, douglas and alice never thought of pressing him to stay, although they greatly regretted that he could not give them more of his company. they said little to one another, for all that had taken place awed them considerably. but when the east was radiant with the promise of another day, and awaking birds twittered amongst the darkling trees, they came out on to the dewy lawn, to find their guest ready to depart. he was dressed for travelling, his portmanteau was already on a motor, which panted far away at the gate of the avenue, and in the silence of the dawn he came forward to bid them farewell. taking each by the hand, eberstein led them to a small hill towards the back of the house, where the sun could be seen rising over the undulating line of the moorlands. an arc of fire was just showing above the horizon, and a splendour of light was changing the rosy hues of the eastern sky into a golden haze. silently prayerful, the three stood looking at this aerial magnificence. it was the doctor who spoke first. "see there the promise of your future," he said quietly. "the darkness of the night has fled away before the glory of the celestial orb. so have the black clouds amidst which you walked of late been dispersed by the sun of righteousness, which has risen with healing on his wings. you know what work you are appointed to do?" "yes," said montrose gravely. "six months in the year alice and i must live in london, seeking out the lame, the halt, and the blind; both the spiritually sick and the physically crippled. we must give to them money, attention, sympathy, love and instruction, looking on every man as a brother and on every woman as a sister, irrespective of race or creed." "just so," said eberstein, nodding, "because all are one, and you are in others as others are in you, all being in the father, through the son by the power of the holy spirit. and then?" he turned to alice. "for six months in the year douglas and i must live here," she said, equally gravely, "and here we must bring those who need rest and help. we must not pauperise them by indiscriminate charity, but must teach each to become a centre of power, to develop his or her latent faculties. finally, we must never think of self, but let the power of good flow through us unhindered by selfish desire." "just so," said eberstein again, and smiled approvingly. "remember that to be channels of the divine power you must surrender all. a single thought of self and the channel is choked. freely the power is given to you, so freely must you give it to others, and in passing through you on its beneficent mission it will cleanse you both body and soul, strengthening each so that you may be strong, wholesome servants of the christ. you have learned your lesson well, my children, so it only remains for me to go." "we shall see you again, i hope?" asked douglas anxiously. "oh, yes," responded the doctor cheerfully. "every year i shall come and stay with you, for there is much instruction in higher things to be given. by following the master and living as nearly as possible his gracious life, you will refine your physical bodies to such a degree that in time you will be able to link up with the desire body and the mental body--consciously, that is. already every night you both work and help in the next world, although you cannot yet remember what you do. but when the time is ripe you will remember, and consciously pass from this world to the other. afterwards you will pass consciously from the desire world to the mental sphere, and so you will work constantly on three planes as the servants of him who died on the cross. think then, my children, how glorious is your future." the faces of both brightened, but douglas spoke rather mournfully. "there is much to do in the physical world alone," he protested. "look at the unrest that prevails everywhere." "be of good courage, my son. this unrest you fear shows how rapidly humanity is progressing. this is the era of individualisation, when each has to think for himself. is it then any wonder that opposing wills clash, when all are so ignorant? but chaos must precede cosmos, and the human race is in a very hot furnace being shaped towards the ends intended by the god of all. the inner teaching is being given out freely to the west and to the east, to the north and to the south, therefore is a new spirit being infused into all religions for the enlightenment of mankind." "into _all_ religions?" questioned alice dubiously. "yes! all the great religions are true in their essence, for all worship the one true god in trinity, or in duality, or in unity. what men quarrel over and what they reprobate are only those external things which have been added by the ignorance of man. but the time is at hand when such errors will be dispelled, and then all religions will be unified by the blessed one. to this nation and that god has spoken in different ways: soon he will speak to all with one mighty voice, and all men will learn that they are the sons of one great father. notwithstanding the turmoil of the present, be of good cheer, i say, for 'all things work together for good,' as st. paul has set forth." in the glory of the sun, now wholly above the horizon, alice and her husband walked down the avenue to where the motor-car throbbed as if impatient to start. there was a clean, fresh look about the world, as if it had been newly made, and although husband and wife were a trifle sad at the departure of eberstein, yet their hearts were singing with joy, and they were filled with gratitude to god for what he had done for them. "farewell, and may the master bless you," said eberstein, from the body of the car. "when i come again let me find that you have worked in the vineyard as true labourers. and so----" he traced the sign of the cross in the air, and alice saw it visibly outlined in dazzling light as the motor sped swiftly down the hill, through polwellin and towards perchton over the purple moors. "dear!" douglas took his wife in his arms, "do not cry." "these are joyful tears, i think," said alice, smiling. "god is so good." "let us try to show ourselves worthy of his goodness," replied the young man, with an answering smile. "come, dear, our work awaits us." and in the glory of the spring morning, under the budding green of the trees, and across the soft grass of the lawn, they passed into their dear home, no longer the house of hate, but the mansion beautiful, wherein great works were to be done by them in their day and generation. ballantyne & company ltd tavistock street covent garden london * * * * * * transcriber's note: obvious punctuation and printer's errors were corrected. inconsistent hyphenation was retained. on page , "illwill" was changed to "ill-will" (so doubtless this feeling of ill-will). on page , "amy" was changed to "alice" ("i am glad he does," said alice soberly). memoirs of extraordinary popular delusions volume iii by charles mackay author of the "thames and its tributaries," "the hope of the world," etc. "il est bon de connaitre les delires de l'esprit humain. chaque peuple a ses folies plus ou moins grossieres." millot detailed contents of the third volume. book i. introduction the alchymists; or, searchers for the philosopher's stone and the water of life part i.--history of alchymy from the earliest periods to the fifteenth century.--pretended antiquity of the art.--geber.--alfarabi.--avicenna.--albertus magnus.--thomas aquinas.--artephius.--alain de lisle.--arnold de villeneuve.--pietro d'apone.--raymond lulli.--roger bacon.--pope john xxii.--jean de meung.--nicholas flamel.--george ripley.--basil valentine.--bernard of treves.--trithemius.--the marechal de rays.--jacques coeur.--inferior adepts. part ii.--progress of the infatuation during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.--augurello.--cornelius agrippa.--paracelsus.--george agricola.--denys zachaire.--dr. dee and edward kelly.--the cosmopolite.--sendivogius.--the rosicrucians.--michael mayer.--robert fludd.--jacob bohmen.--john heydn.--joseph francis borri.--alchymical writers of the seventeenth century.--de lisle.--albert aluys.--count de st. germains.--cagliostro.--present state of the science. book ii. fortune telling book iii. the magnetisers philosophical delusions. dissatisfaction with his lot seems to be the characteristic of man in all ages and climates. so far, however, from being an evil, as at first might be supposed, it has been the great civiliser of our race; and has tended, more than anything else, to raise us above the condition of the brutes. but the same discontent which has been the source of all improvement, has been the parent of no small progeny of follies and absurdities; to trace these latter is the object of the present volume. vast as the subject appears, it is easily reducible within such limits as will make it comprehensive without being wearisome, and render its study both instructive and amusing. three causes especially have excited our discontent; and, by impelling us to seek for remedies for the irremediable, have bewildered us in a maze of madness and error. these are death, toil, and ignorance of the future--the doom of man upon this sphere, and for which he shows his antipathy by his love of life, his longing for abundance, and his craving curiosity to pierce the secrets of the days to come. the first has led many to imagine that they might find means to avoid death, or, failing in this, that they might, nevertheless, so prolong existence as to reckon it by centuries instead of units. from this sprang the search, so long continued and still pursued, for the elixir vitae, or water of life, which has led thousands to pretend to it and millions to believe in it. from the second sprang the absurd search for the philosopher's stone, which was to create plenty by changing all metals into gold; and from the third, the false sciences of astrology, divination, and their divisions of necromancy, chiromancy, augury, with all their train of signs, portents, and omens. in tracing the career of the erring philosophers, or the wilful cheats, who have encouraged or preyed upon the credulity of mankind, it will simplify and elucidate the subject, if we divide it into three classes:--the first comprising alchymists, or those in general who have devoted themselves to the discovering of the philosopher's stone and the water of life; the second comprising astrologers, necromancers, sorcerers, geomancers, and all those who pretended to discover futurity; and the third consisting of the dealers in charms, amulets, philters, universal-panacea mongers, touchers for the evil, seventh sons of a seventh son, sympathetic powder compounders, homeopathists, animal magnetizers, and all the motley tribe of quacks, empirics, and charlatans. but, in narrating the career of such men, it will be found that many of them united several or all of the functions just mentioned; that the alchymist was a fortune-teller, or a necromancer--that he pretended to cure all maladies by touch or charm, and to work miracles of every kind. in the dark and early ages of european history, this is more especially the case. even as we advance to more recent periods, we shall find great difficulty in separating the characters. the alchymist seldom confined himself strictly to his pretended science--the sorcerer and necromancer to theirs, or the medical charlatan to his. beginning with alchymy, some confusion of these classes is unavoidable; but the ground will clear for us as we advance. let us not, in the pride of our superior knowledge, turn with contempt from the follies of our predecessors. the study of the errors into which great minds have fallen in the pursuit of truth can never be uninstructive. as the man looks back to the days of his childhood and his youth, and recalls to his mind the strange notions and false opinions that swayed his actions at that time, that he may wonder at them, so should society, for its edification, look back to the opinions which governed the ages fled. he is but a superficial thinker who would despise and refuse to hear of them merely because they are absurd. no man is so wise but that he may learn some wisdom from his past errors, either of thought or action, and no society has made such advances as to be capable of no improvement from the retrospect of its past folly and credulity. and not only is such a study instructive: he who reads for amusement only, will find no chapter in the annals of the human mind more amusing than this. it opens out the whole realm of fiction--the wild, the fantastic, and the wonderful, and all the immense variety of things "that are not, and cannot be; but that have been imagined and believed." book i.--the alchymists or, searchers for the philosopher's stone and the water of life. "mercury (loquitur).--the mischief a secret any of them know, above the consuming of coals and drawing of usquebaugh! howsoever they may pretend, under the specious names of geber, arnold, lulli, or bombast of hohenheim, to commit miracles in art, and treason against nature! as if the title of philosopher, that creature of glory, were to be fetched out of a furnace! i am their crude, and their sublimate, their precipitate, and their unctions; their male and their female, sometimes their hermaphrodite--what they list to style me! they will calcine you a grave matron, as it might be a mother of the maids, and spring up a young virgin out of her ashes, as fresh as a phoenix; lay you an old courtier on the coals, like a sausage or a bloat-herring, and, after they have broiled him enough, blow a soul into him, with a pair of bellows! see! they begin to muster again, and draw their forces out against me! the genius of the place defend me!"--ben jonson's masque "mercury vindicated from the alchymists." the alchymists. part i.--history of alchymy from the earliest periods to the fifteenth century. pretended antiquity of the art.--geber.--alfarabi.--avicenna.--albertus magnus.--thomas aquinas.--artephius.--alain de lisle.--arnold de villeneuve.--pietro d'apone.--raymond lulli.--roger bacon.--pope john xxii.--jean de meung.--nicholas flamel.--george ripley.--basil valentine.--bernard of treves.--trithemius.--the marechal de rays.--jacques coeur.--inferior adepts. for more than a thousand years the art of alchymy captivated many noble spirits, and was believed in by millions. its origin is involved in obscurity. some of its devotees have claimed for it an antiquity coeval with the creation of man himself; others, again, would trace it no further back than the time of noah. vincent de beauvais argues, indeed, that all the antediluvians must have possessed a knowledge of alchymy; and particularly cites noah as having been acquainted with the elixir vitae, or he could not have lived to so prodigious an age, and have begotten children when upwards of five hundred. lenglet du fresnoy, in his "history of the hermetic philosophy," says, "most of them pretended that shem, or chem, the son of noah, was an adept in the art, and thought it highly probable that the words chemistry and alchymy were both derived from his name." others say, the art was derived from the egyptians, amongst whom it was first founded by hermes trismegistus. moses, who is looked upon as a first-rate alchymist, gained his knowledge in egypt; but he kept it all to himself, and would not instruct the children of israel in its mysteries. all the writers upon alchymy triumphantly cite the story of the golden calf, in the nd chapter of exodus, to prove that this great lawgiver was an adept, and could make or unmake gold at his pleasure. it is recorded, that moses was so wroth with the israelites for their idolatry, "that he took the calf which they had made, and burned it in the fire, and ground it to powder, and strewed it upon the water, and made the children of israel drink of it." this, say the alchymists, he never could have done, had he not been in possession of the philosopher's stone; by no other means could he have made the powder of gold float upon the water. but we must leave this knotty point for the consideration of the adepts in the art, if any such there be, and come to more modern periods of its history. the jesuit, father martini, in his "historia sinica," says, it was practised by the chinese two thousand five hundred years before the birth of christ; but his assertion, being unsupported, is worth nothing. it would appear, however, that pretenders to the art of making gold and silver existed in rome in the first centuries after the christian era, and that, when discovered, they were liable to punishment as knaves and impostors. at constantinople, in the fourth century, the transmutation of metals was very generally believed in, and many of the greek ecclesiastics wrote treatises upon the subject. their names are preserved, and some notice of their works given, in the third volume of lenglet du fresnoy's "history of the hermetic philosophy." their notion appears to have been, that all metals were composed of two substances; the one, metallic earth; and the other, a red inflammable matter, which they called sulphur. the pure union of these substances formed gold; but other metals were mixed with and contaminated by various foreign ingredients. the object of the philosopher's stone was to dissolve or neutralize all these ingredients, by which iron, lead, copper, and all metals would be transmuted into the original gold. many learned and clever men wasted their time, their health, and their energies, in this vain pursuit; but for several centuries it took no great hold upon the imagination of the people. the history of the delusion appears, in a manner, lost from this time till the eighth century, when it appeared amongst the arabians. from this period it becomes easier to trace its progress. a master then appeared, who was long looked upon as the father of the science, and whose name is indissolubly connected with it. geber. of this philosopher, who devoted his life to the study of alchymy, but few particulars are known. he is thought to have lived in the year . his true name was abou moussah djafar, to which was added al soft, or "the wise," and he was born at hauran, in mesopotamia. ["biographie universelle."] some have thought he was a greek, others a spaniard, and others, a prince of hindostan: but, of all the mistakes which have been made respecting him, the most ludicrous was that made by the french translator of sprenger's "history of medicine," who thought, from the sound of his name, that he was a german, and rendered it as the "donnateur," or giver. no details of his life are known; but it is asserted, that he wrote more than five hundred works upon the philosopher's stone and the water of life. he was a great enthusiast in his art, and compared the incredulous to little children shut up in a narrow room, without windows or aperture, who, because they saw nothing beyond, denied the existence of the great globe itself. he thought that a preparation of gold would cure all maladies, not only in man, but in the inferior animals and plants. he also imagined that all the metals laboured under disease, with the exception of gold, which was the only one in perfect health. he affirmed, that the secret of the philosopher's stone had been more than once discovered; but that the ancient and wise men who had hit upon it, would never, by word or writing, communicate it to men, because of their unworthiness and incredulity. [his "sum of perfection," or instructions to students to aid them in the laborious search for the stone and elixir, has been translated into most of the languages of europe. an english translation, by a great enthusiast in alchymy, one richard russell, was published in london in . the preface is dated eight years previously, from the house of the alchymist, "at the star, in newmarket, in wapping, near the dock." his design in undertaking the translation was, as he informs us, to expose the false pretences of the many ignorant pretenders to the science who abounded in his day.] but the life of geber, though spent in the pursuit of this vain chimera, was not altogether useless. he stumbled upon discoveries which he did not seek, and science is indebted to him for the first mention of corrosive sublimate, the red oxide of mercury, nitric acid, and the nitrate of silver. [article, geber, "biographie universelle."] for more than two hundred years after the death of geber, the arabian philosophers devoted themselves to the study of alchymy, joining with it that of astrology. of these the most celebrated was alfarabi. alfarabi flourished at the commencement of the tenth century, and enjoyed the reputation of being one of the most learned men of his age. he spent his life in travelling from country to country, that he might gather the opinions of philosophers upon the great secrets of nature. no danger dismayed him; no toil wearied him of the pursuit. many sovereigns endeavoured to retain him at their courts; but he refused to rest until he had discovered the great object of his life--the art of preserving it for centuries, and of making gold as much as he needed. this wandering mode of life at last proved fatal to him. he had been on a visit to mecca, not so much for religious as for philosophical purposes, when, returning through syria, he stopped at the court of the sultan seifeddoulet, who was renowned as the patron of learning. he presented himself in his travelling attire, in the presence of that monarch and his courtiers; and, without invitation, coolly sat himself down upon the sofa, beside the prince. the courtiers and wise men were indignant; and the sultan, who did not know the intruder, was at first inclined to follow their example. he turned to one of his officers, and ordered him to eject the presumptuous stranger from the room; but alfarabi, without moving, dared them to lay hands upon him; and, turning himself calmly to the prince, remarked, that he did not know who was his guest, or he would treat him with honour, not with violence. the sultan, instead of being still further incensed, as many potentates would have been, admired his coolness; and, requesting him to sit still closer to him on the sofa, entered into a long conversation with him upon science and divine philosophy. all the court were charmed with the stranger. questions for discussion were propounded, on all of which he showed superior knowledge. he convinced every one that ventured to dispute with him; and spoke so eloquently upon the science of alchymy, that he was at once recognised as only second to the great geber himself. one of the doctors present inquired whether a man who knew so many sciences was acquainted with music? alfarabi made no reply, but merely requested that a lute should be brought him. the lute was brought; and he played such ravishing and tender melodies, that all the court were melted into tears. he then changed his theme, and played airs so sprightly, that he set the grave philosophers, sultan and all, dancing as fast as their legs could carry them. he then sobered them again by a mournful strain, and made them sob and sigh as if broken-hearted. the sultan, highly delighted with his powers, entreated him to stay, offering him every inducement that wealth, power, and dignity could supply; but the alchymist resolutely refused, it being decreed, he said, that he should never repose till he had discovered the philosopher's stone. he set out accordingly the same evening, and was murdered by some thieves in the deserts of syria. his biographers give no further particulars of his life beyond mentioning, that he wrote several valuable treatises on his art, all of which, however, have been lost. his death happened in the year . avicenna. avicenna, whose real name was ebn cinna, another great alchymist, was born at bokhara, in . his reputation as a physician and a man skilled in all sciences was so great, that the sultan magdal douleth resolved to try his powers in the great science of government. he was accordingly made grand vizier of that prince, and ruled the state with some advantage: but, in a science still more difficult, he failed completely. he could not rule his own passions, but gave himself up to wine and women, and led a life of shameless debauchery. amid the multifarious pursuits of business and pleasure, he nevertheless found time to write seven treatises upon the philosopher's stone, which were for many ages looked upon as of great value by pretenders to the art. it is rare that an eminent physician, as avicenna appears to have been, abandons himself to sensual gratification; but so completely did he become enthralled in the course of a few years, that he was dismissed from his high office, and died shortly afterwards, of premature old age and a complication of maladies, brought on by debauchery. his death took place in the year . after his time, few philosophers of any note in arabia are heard of as devoting themselves to the study of alchymy; but it began shortly afterwards to attract greater attention in europe. learned men in france, england, spain, and italy expressed their belief in the science, and many devoted their whole energies to it. in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries especially, it was extensively pursued, and some of the brightest names of that age are connected with it. among the most eminent of them are albertus magnus and thomas aquina. the first of these philosophers was born in the year , of a noble family at lawingen, in the duchy of neuburg, on the danube. for the first thirty years of his life, he appeared remarkably dull and stupid, and it was feared by every one that no good could come of him. he entered a dominican monastery at an early age; but made so little progress in his studies, that he was more than once upon the point of abandoning them in despair; but he was endowed with extraordinary perseverance. as he advanced to middle age, his mind expanded, and he learned whatever he applied himself to with extreme facility. so remarkable a change was not, in that age, to be accounted for but by a miracle. it was asserted and believed that the holy virgin, touched with his great desire to become learned and famous, took pity upon his incapacity, and appeared to him in the cloister where he sat, almost despairing, and asked him whether he wished to excel in philosophy or divinity. he chose philosophy, to the chagrin of the virgin, who reproached him in mild and sorrowful accents that he had not made a better choice. she, however, granted his request that he should become the most excellent philosopher of the age; but set this drawback to his pleasure, that he should relapse, when at the height of his fame, into his former incapacity and stupidity. albertus never took the trouble to contradict the story, but prosecuted his studies with such unremitting zeal that his reputation speedily spread over all europe. in the year , the celebrated thomas aquinas placed himself under his tuition. many extraordinary stories are told of the master and his pupil. while they paid all due attention to other branches of science, they never neglected the pursuit of the philosopher's stone and the elixir vitae. although they discovered neither, it was believed that albert had seized some portion of the secret of life, and found means to animate a brazen statue, upon the formation of which, under proper conjunctions of the planets, he had been occupied many years of his life. he and thomas aquinas completed it together, endowed it with the faculty of speech, and made it perform the functions of a domestic servant. in this capacity it was exceedingly useful; but, through some defect in the machinery, it chattered much more than was agreeable to either philosopher. various remedies were tried to cure it of its garrulity, but in vain; and one day thomas aquinas was so enraged at the noise it made, when he was in the midst of a mathematical problem, that he seized a ponderous hammer and smashed it to pieces. [naude, "apologie des grands hommes accuses de magie;" chap. xviii.] he was sorry afterwards for what he had done, and was reproved by his master for giving way to his anger, so unbecoming in a philosopher. they made no attempt to re-animate the statue. such stories as these show the spirit of the age. every great man who attempted to study the secrets of nature was thought a magician; and it is not to be wondered at that, when philosophers themselves pretended to discover an elixir for conferring immortality, or a red stone which was to create boundless wealth, that popular opinion should have enhanced upon their pretensions, and have endowed them with powers still more miraculous. it was believed of albertus magnus that he could even change the course of the seasons; a feat which the many thought less difficult than the discovery of the grand elixir. albertus was desirous of obtaining a piece of ground on which to build a monastery, in the neighbourhood of cologne. the ground belonged to william, count of holland and king of the romans, who, for some reason or other, did not wish to part with it. albertus is reported to have gained it by the following extraordinary method:--he invited the prince, as he was passing through cologne, to a magnificent entertainment prepared for him and all his court. the prince accepted it, and repaired with a lordly retinue to the residence of the sage. it was in the midst of winter; the rhine was frozen over, and the cold was so bitter that the knights could not sit on horseback without running the risk of losing their toes by the frost. great, therefore, was their surprise, on arriving at albert's house, to find that the repast was spread in his garden, in which the snow had drifted to the depth of several feet. the earl, in high dudgeon, remounted his steed; but albert at last prevailed upon him to take his seat at the table. he had no sooner done so, than the dark clouds rolled away from the sky--a warm sun shone forth--the cold north wind veered suddenly round, and blew a mild breeze from the south--the snows melted away--the ice was unbound upon the streams, and the trees put forth their green leaves and their fruit--flowers sprang up beneath their feet, while larks, nightingales, blackbirds, cuckoos, thrushes, and every sweet song-bird, sang hymns from every tree. the earl and his attendants wondered greatly; but they ate their dinner, and in recompence for it, albert got his piece of ground to build a convent on. he had not, however, shown them all his power. immediately that the repast was over, he gave the word, and dark clouds obscured the sun--the snow fell in large flakes--the singing-birds fell dead--the leaves dropped from the trees, and the winds blew so cold, and howled so mournfully, that the guests wrapped themselves up in their thick cloaks, and retreated into the house to warm themselves at the blazing fire in albert's kitchen. [lenglet, "histoire de la philosophie hermetique." see also, godwin's "lives of the necromancers."] thomas aquinas also could work wonders as well as his master. it is related of him, that he lodged in a street at cologne, where he was much annoyed by the incessant clatter made by the horses' hoofs, as they were led through it daily to exercise by their grooms. he had entreated the latter to select some other spot where they might not disturb a philosopher, but the grooms turned a deaf ear to all his solicitations. in this emergency he had recourse to the aid of magic. he constructed a small horse of bronze, upon which he inscribed certain cabalistic characters, and buried it at midnight in the midst of the highway. the next morning, a troop of grooms came riding along as usual; but the horses, as they arrived at the spot where the magic horse was buried, reared and plunged violently--their nostrils distended with terror--their manes grew erect, and the perspiration ran down their sides in streams. in vain the riders applied the spur--in vain they coaxed or threatened, the animals would not pass the spot. on the following day, their success was no better. they were at length compelled to seek another spot for their exercise, and thomas aquinas was left in peace. [naude, "apologie des grands hommes accuses de magie;" chap. xvii.] albertus magnus was made bishop of ratisbon in ; but he occupied the see only four years, when he resigned, on the ground that its duties occupied too much of the time which he was anxious to devote to philosophy. he died in cologne in , at the advanced age of eighty-seven. the dominican writers deny that he ever sought the philosopher's stone, but his treatise upon minerals sufficiently proves that he did. artephius. artephius, a name noted in the annals of alchymy, was born in the early part of the twelfth century. he wrote two famous treatises; the one upon the philosopher's stone, and the other on the art of prolonging human life. in the latter he vaunts his great qualifications for instructing mankind on such a matter, as he was at that time in the thousand and twenty-fifth year of his age! he had many disciples who believed in his extreme age, and who attempted to prove that he was apollonius of tyana, who lived soon after the advent of jesus christ, and the particulars of whose life and pretended miracles have been so fully described by philostratus. he took good care never to contradict a story, which so much increased the power he was desirous of wielding over his fellow-mortals. on all convenient occasions, he boasted of it; and having an excellent memory, a fertile imagination, and a thorough knowledge of all existing history, he was never at a loss for an answer when questioned as to the personal appearance, the manners, or the character of the great men of antiquity. he also pretended to have found the philosopher's stone; and said that, in search of it, he had descended to hell, and seen the devil sitting on a throne of gold, with a legion of imps and fiends around him. his works on alchymy have been translated into french, and were published in paris in or . alain de lisle. contemporary with albertus magnus was alain de lisle, of flanders, who was named, from his great learning, the "universal doctor." he was thought to possess a knowledge of all the sciences, and, like artephius, to have discovered the elixir vitae. he became one of the friars of the abbey of citeaux, and died in , aged about one hundred and ten years. it was said of him, that he was at the point of death when in his fiftieth year; but that the fortunate discovery of the elixir enabled him to add sixty years to his existence. he wrote a commentary on the prophecies of merlin. arnold de villeneuve. this philosopher has left a much greater reputation. he was born in the year , and studied medicine with great success in the university of paris. he afterwards travelled for twenty years in italy and germany, where he made acquaintance with pietro d'apone; a man of a character akin to his own, and addicted to the same pursuits. as a physician, he was thought, in his own lifetime, to be the most able the world had ever seen. like all the learned men of that day, he dabbled in astrology and alchymy, and was thought to have made immense quantities of gold from lead and copper. when pietro d'apone was arrested in italy, and brought to trial as a sorcerer, a similar accusation was made against arnold; but he managed to leave the country in time and escape the fate of his unfortunate friend. he lost some credit by predicting the end of the world, but afterwards regained it. the time of his death is not exactly known; but it must have been prior to the year , when pope clement v. wrote a circular letter to all the clergy of europe who lived under his obedience, praying them to use their utmost efforts to discover the famous treatise of arnold on "the practice of medicine." the author had promised, during his lifetime, to make a present of the work to the holy see, but died without fulfilling it. in a very curious work by monsieur longeville harcouet, entitled "the history of the persons who have lived several centuries, and then grown young again," there is a receipt, said to have been given by arnold de villeneuve, by means of which any one might prolong his life for a few hundred years or so. in the first place, say arnold and monsieur harcouet, "the person intending so to prolong his life must rub himself well, two or three times a week, with the juice or marrow of cassia (moelle de la casse). every night, upon going to bed, he must put upon his heart a plaster, composed of a certain quantity of oriental saffron, red rose-leaves, sandal-wood, aloes, and amber, liquified in oil of roses and the best white wax. in the morning, he must take it off, and enclose it carefully in a leaden box till the next night, when it must be again applied. if he be of a sanguine temperament, he shall take sixteen chickens--if phlegmatic, twenty-five--and if melancholy, thirty, which he shall put into a yard where the air and the water are pure. upon these he is to feed, eating one a day; but previously the chickens are to be fattened by a peculiar method, which will impregnate their flesh with the qualities that are to produce longevity in the eater. being deprived of all other nourishment till they are almost dying of hunger, they are to be fed upon broth made of serpents and vinegar, which broth is to be thickened with wheat and bran." various ceremonies are to be performed in the cooking of this mess, which those may see in the book of m. harcouet, who are at all interested in the matter; and the chickens are to be fed upon it for two months. they are then fit for table, and are to be washed down with moderate quantities of good white wine or claret. this regimen is to be followed regularly every seven years, and any one may live to be as old as methuselah! it is right to state, that m. harcouet has but little authority for attributing this precious composition to arnold of villeneuve. it is not to be found in the collected works of that philosopher; but was first brought to light by a m. poirier, at the commencement of the sixteenth century, who asserted that he had discovered it in ms. in the undoubted writing of arnold. pietro d'apone. this unlucky sage was born at apone, near padua, in the year . like his friend arnold de villeneuve, he was an eminent physician, and a pretender to the arts of astrology and alchymy. he practised for many years in paris, and made great wealth by killing and curing, and telling fortunes. in an evil day for him, he returned to his own country, with the reputation of being a magician of the first order. it was universally believed that he had drawn seven evil spirits from the infernal regions, whom he kept enclosed in seven crystal vases, until he required their services, when he sent them forth to the ends of the earth to execute his pleasure. one spirit excelled in philosophy; a second, in alchymy; a third, in astrology; a fourth, in physic; a fifth, in poetry; a sixth, in music; and the seventh, in painting: and whenever pietro wished for information or instruction in any of these arts, he had only to go to his crystal vase, and liberate the presiding spirit. immediately, all the secrets of the art were revealed to him; and he might, if it pleased him, excel homer in poetry, apelles in painting, or pythagoras himself in philosophy. although he could make gold out of brass, it was said of him, that he was very sparing of his powers in that respect, and kept himself constantly supplied with money by other and less creditable means. whenever he disbursed gold, he muttered a certain charm, known only to himself; and next morning the gold was safe again in his own possession. the trader to whom he gave it, might lock it in his strong box, and have it guarded by a troop of soldiers; but the charmed metal flew back to its old master. even if it were buried in the earth, or thrown into the sea, the dawn of the next morning would behold it in the pockets of pietro. few people, in consequence, liked to have dealings with such a personage, especially for gold. some, bolder than the rest, thought that his power did not extend over silver; but, when they made the experiment, they found themselves mistaken. bolts and bars could not restrain it, and it sometimes became invisible in their very hands, and was whisked through the air to the purse of the magician. he necessarily acquired a very bad character; and, having given utterance to some sentiments regarding religion which were the very reverse of orthodox, he was summoned before the tribunals of the inquisition to answer for his crimes as a heretic and a sorcerer. he loudly protested his innocence, even upon the rack, where he suffered more torture than nature could support. he died in prison ere his trial was concluded, but was afterwards found guilty. his bones were ordered to be dug up, and publicly burned. he was also burned in effigy in the streets of padua. raymond lulli. while arnold de villeneuve and pietro d'apone flourished in france and italy, a more celebrated adept than either appeared in spain. this was raymond lulli, a name which stands in the first rank among the alchymists. unlike many of his predecessors, he made no pretensions to astrology or necromancy; but, taking geber for his model, studied intently the nature and composition of metals, without reference to charms, incantations, or any foolish ceremonies. it was not, however, till late in life that he commenced his study of the art. his early and middle age were spent in a different manner, and his whole history is romantic in the extreme. he was born of an illustrious family, in majorca, in the year . when that island was taken from the saracens by james i, king of aragon, in , the father of raymond, who was originally of catalonia, settled there, and received a considerable appointment from the crown. raymond married at an early age; and, being fond of pleasure, he left the solitudes of his native isle, and passed over with his bride into spain. he was made grand seneschal at the court of king james, and led a gay life for several years. faithless to his wife, he was always in the pursuit of some new beauty, till his heart was fixed at last by the lovely, but unkind ambrosia de castello. this lady, like her admirer, was married; but, unlike him, was faithful to her vows, and treated all his solicitations with disdain. raymond was so enamoured, that repulse only increased his flame; he lingered all night under her windows, wrote passionate verses in her praise, neglected his affairs, and made himself the butt of all the courtiers. one day, while watching under her lattice, he by chance caught sight of her bosom, as her neckerchief was blown aside by the wind. the fit of inspiration came over him, and he sat down and composed some tender stanzas upon the subject, and sent them to the lady. the fair ambrosia had never before condescended to answer his letters; but she replied to this. she told him, that she could never listen to his suit; that it was unbecoming in a wise man to fix his thoughts, as he had done, on any other than his god; and entreated him to devote himself to a religious life, and conquer the unworthy passion which he had suffered to consume him. she, however, offered, if he wished it, to show him the fair bosom which had so captivated him. raymond was delighted. he thought the latter part of this epistle but ill corresponded with the former, and that ambrosia, in spite of the good advice she gave him, had, at last, relented, and would make him as happy as he desired. he followed her about from place to place, entreating her to fulfil her promise: but still ambrosia was cold, and implored him with tears to importune her no longer; for that she never could be his, and never would, if she were free to-morrow. "what means your letter, then?" said the despairing lover. "i will show you!" replied ambrosia, who immediately uncovered her bosom, and exposed to the eyes of her horror-stricken admirer, a large cancer, which had extended to both breasts. she saw that he was shocked; and, extending her hand to him, she prayed him once more to lead a religious life, and set his heart upon the creator, and not upon the creature. he went home an altered man. he threw up, on the morrow, his valuable appointment at the court, separated from his wife, and took a farewell of his children, after dividing one-half of his ample fortune among them. the other half he shared among the poor. he then threw himself at the foot of a crucifix, and devoted himself to the service of god, vowing, as the most acceptable atonement for his errors, that he would employ the remainder of his days in the task of converting the mussulmans to the christian religion. in his dreams he saw jesus christ, who said to him, "raymond! raymond! follow me!" the vision was three times repeated, and raymond was convinced that it was an intimation direct from heaven. having put his affairs in order, he set out on a pilgrimage to the shrine of st. james of compostello, and afterwards lived for ten years in solitude amid the mountains of aranda. here he learned the arabic, to qualify himself for his mission of converting the mahometans. he also studied various sciences, as taught in the works of the learned men of the east, and first made acquaintance with the writings of geber, which were destined to exercise so much influence over his future life. at the end of this probation, and when he had entered his fortieth year, he emerged from his solitude into more active life. with some remains of his fortune, which had accumulated during his retirement, he founded a college for the study of arabic, which was approved of by the pope, with many commendations upon his zeal and piety. at this time he narrowly escaped assassination from an arabian youth whom he had taken into his service. raymond had prayed to god, in some of his accesses of fanaticism, that he might suffer martyrdom in his holy cause. his servant had overheard him; and, being as great a fanatic as his master, he resolved to gratify his wish, and punish him, at the same time, for the curses which he incessantly launched against mahomet and all who believed in him, by stabbing him to the heart. he, therefore, aimed a blow at his master, as he sat one day at table; but the instinct of self-preservation being stronger than the desire of martyrdom, raymond grappled with his antagonist, and overthrew him. he scorned to take his life himself; but handed him over to the authorities of the town, by whom he was afterwards found dead in his prison. after this adventure raymond travelled to paris, where he resided for some time, and made the acquaintance of arnold de villeneuve. from him he probably received some encouragement to search for the philosopher's stone, as he began from that time forth to devote less of his attention to religious matters, and more to the study of alchymy. still he never lost sight of the great object for which he lived--the conversion of the mahometans--and proceeded to rome, to communicate personally with pope john xxi, on the best measures to be adopted for that end. the pope gave him encouragement in words, but failed to associate any other persons with him in the enterprise which he meditated. raymond, therefore, set out for tunis alone, and was kindly received by many arabian philosophers, who had heard of his fame as a professor of alchymy. if he had stuck to alchymy while in their country, it would have been well for him; but he began cursing mahomet, and got himself into trouble. while preaching the doctrines of christianity in the great bazaar of tunis, he was arrested and thrown into prison. he was shortly afterwards brought to trial, and sentenced to death. some of his philosophic friends interceded hard for him, and he was pardoned, upon condition that he left africa immediately, and never again set foot in it. if he was found there again, no matter what his object might be, or whatever length of time might intervene, his original sentence would be carried into execution. raymond was not at all solicitous of martyrdom when it came to the point, whatever he might have been when there was no danger, and he gladly accepted his life upon these conditions, and left tunis with the intention of proceeding to rome. he afterwards changed his plan, and established himself at milan, where, for a length of time, he practised alchymy, and some say astrology, with great success. most writers who believed in the secrets of alchymy, and who have noticed the life of raymond lulli, assert, that while in milan, he received letters from edward king of england, inviting him to settle in his states. they add, that lulli gladly accepted the invitation, and had apartments assigned for his use in the tower of london, where he refined much gold; superintended the coinage of "rose-nobles;" and made gold out of iron, quicksilver, lead, and pewter, to the amount of six millions. the writers in the "biographie universelle," an excellent authority in general, deny that raymond was ever in england, and say, that in all these stories of his wondrous powers as an alchymist, he has been mistaken for another raymond, a jew, of tarragona. naude, in his "apologie," says, simply, "that six millions were given by raymond lulli to king edward, to make war against the turks and other infidels:" not that he transmuted so much metal into gold; but, as he afterwards adds, that he advised edward to lay a tax upon wool, which produced that amount. to show that raymond went to england, his admirers quote a work attributed to him, "de transmutatione animae metallorum," in which he expressly says, that he was in england at the intercession of the king. [vidimus omnia ista dum ad angliam transiimus, propter intercessionem domini regis edoardi illustrissimi.] the hermetic writers are not agreed whether it was edward i, or edward ii, who invited him over; but, by fixing the date of his journey in , they make it appear that it was edward ii. edmond dickenson, in his work on the "quintessences of the philosophers," says, that raymond worked in westminster abbey, where, a long time after his departure, there was found in the cell which he had occupied, a great quantity of golden dust, of which the architects made a great profit. in the biographical sketch of john cremer, abbot of westminster, given by lenglet, it is said, that it was chiefly through his instrumentality that raymond came to england. cremer had been himself for thirty years occupied in the vain search for the philosopher's stone, when he accidentally met raymond in italy, and endeavoured to induce him to communicate his grand secret. raymond told him that he must find it for himself, as all great alchymists had done before him. cremer, on his return to england, spoke to king edward in high terms of the wonderful attainments of the philosopher, and a letter of invitation was forthwith sent him. robert constantinus, in the "nomenclatore scriptorum medicorum," published in , says, that after a great deal of research, be found that raymond lulli resided for some time in london, and that he actually made gold, by means of the philosopher's stone, in the tower; that he had seen the golden pieces of his coinage, which were still named in england the nobles of raymond, or rose-nobles. lulli himself appears to have boasted that he made gold; for, in his well-known "testamentum," he states, that he converted no less than fifty thousand pounds weight of quicksilver, lead, and pewter into that metal. [converti una vice in aurum ad l millia pondo argenti vivi, plumbi, et stanni.--lullii testamentum.] it seems highly probable that the english king, believing in the extraordinary powers of the alchymist, invited him to england to make test of them, and that he was employed in refining gold and in coining. camden, who is not credulous in matters like these, affords his countenance to the story of his coinage of nobles; and there is nothing at all wonderful in the fact of a man famous for his knowledge of metals being employed in such a capacity. raymond was, at this time, an old man, in his seventy-seventh year, and somewhat in his dotage. he was willing enough to have it believed that he had discovered the grand secret, and supported the rumour rather than contradicted it. he did not long remain in england; but returned to rome, to carry out the projects which were nearer to his heart than the profession of alchymy. he had proposed them to several successive popes with little or no success. the first was a plan for the introduction of the oriental languages into all the monasteries of europe; the second, for the reduction into one of all the military orders, that, being united, they might move more efficaciously against the saracens; and, the third, that the sovereign pontiff should forbid the works of averroes to be read in the schools, as being more favourable to mahometanism than to christianity. the pope did not receive the old man with much cordiality; and, after remaining for about two years in rome, he proceeded once more to africa, alone and unprotected, to preach the gospel of jesus. he landed at bona in ; and so irritated the mahometans by cursing their prophet, that they stoned him, and left him for dead on the sea-shore. he was found some hours afterwards by a party of genoese merchants, who conveyed him on board their vessel, and sailed towards majorca. the unfortunate man still breathed, but could not articulate. he lingered in this state for some days, and expired just as the vessel arrived within sight of his native shores. his body was conveyed with great pomp to the church of st. eulalia, at palma, where a public funeral was instituted in his honour. miracles were afterwards said to have been worked at his tomb. thus ended the career of raymond lulli, one of the most extraordinary men of his age; and, with the exception of his last boast about the six millions of gold, the least inclined to quackery of any of the professors of alchymy. his writings were very numerous, and include nearly five hundred volumes, upon grammar, rhetoric, morals, theology, politics, civil and canon law, physics, metaphysics, astronomy, medicine, and chemistry. roger bacon. the powerful delusion of alchymy seized upon a mind still greater than that of raymond lulli. roger bacon firmly believed in the philosopher's stone, and spent much of his time in search of it. his example helped to render all the learned men of the time more convinced of its practicability, and more eager in the pursuit. he was born at ilchester, in the county of somerset, in the year . he studied for some time in the university of oxford, and afterwards in that of paris, in which he received the degree of doctor of divinity. returning to england in , he became a monk of the order of st. francis. he was by far the most learned man of his age; and his acquirements were so much above the comprehension of his contemporaries, that they could only account for them by supposing that he was indebted for them to the devil. voltaire has not inaptly designated him "de l'or encroute de toutes les ordures de son siecle;" but the crust of superstition that enveloped his powerful mind, though it may have dimmed, could not obscure the brightness of his genius. to him, and apparently to him only, among all the inquiring spirits of the time, were known the properties of the concave and convex lens. he also invented the magic-lantern; that pretty plaything of modern days, which acquired for him a reputation that embittered his life. in a history of alchymy, the name of this great man cannot be omitted, although, unlike many others of whom we shall have occasion to speak, he only made it secondary to other pursuits. the love of universal knowledge that filled his mind, would not allow him to neglect one branch of science, of which neither he nor the world could yet see the absurdity. he made ample amends for his time lost in this pursuit by his knowledge in physics and his acquaintance with astronomy. the telescope, burning-glasses, and gunpowder, are discoveries which may well carry his fame to the remotest time, and make the world blind to the one spot of folly--the diagnosis of the age in which he lived, and the circumstances by which he was surrounded. his treatise on the "admirable power of art and nature in the production of the philosopher's stone" was translated into french by girard de tormes, and published at lyons in . his "mirror of alchymy" was also published in french in the same year, and in paris in , with some additions from the works of raymond lulli. a complete list of all the published treatises upon the subject may be seen in lenglet du fresnoy. pope john xxii. this prelate is said to have been the friend and pupil of arnold de villeneuve, by whom he was instructed in all the secrets of alchymy. tradition asserts of him, that he made great quantities of gold, and died as rich as croesus. he was born at cahors, in the province of guienne, in the year . he was a very eloquent preacher, and soon reached high dignity in the church. he wrote a work on the transmutation of metals, and had a famous laboratory at avignon. he issued two bulls against the numerous pretenders to the art, who had sprung up in every part of christendom; from which it might be inferred that he was himself free from the delusion. the alchymists claim him, however, as one of the most distinguished and successful professors of their art, and say that his bulls were not directed against the real adepts, but the false pretenders. they lay particular stress upon these words in his bull, "spondent, quas non exhibent, divitias, pauperes alchymistae." these, it is clear, they say, relate only to poor alchymists, and therefore false ones. he died in the year , leaving in his coffers a sum of eighteen millions of florins. popular belief alleged that he had made, and not amassed, this treasure; and alchymists complacently cite this as a proof that the philosopher's stone was not such a chimera as the incredulous pretended. they take it for granted that john really left this money, and ask by what possible means he could have accumulated it. replying to their own question, they say triumphantly, "his book shows it was by alchymy, the secrets of which he learned from arnold de villeneuve and raymond lulli. but he was as prudent as all other hermetic philosophers. whoever would read his book to find out his secret, would employ all his labour in vain; the pope took good care not to divulge it." unluckily for their own credit, all these gold-makers are in the same predicament; their great secret loses its worth most wonderfully in the telling, and therefore they keep it snugly to themselves. perhaps they thought that, if everybody could transmute metals, gold would be so plentiful that it would be no longer valuable, and that some new art would be requisite to transmute it back again into steel and iron. if so, society is much indebted to them for their forbearance. jean de meung all classes of men dabbled in the art at this time; the last mentioned was a pope, the one of whom we now speak was a poet. jean de meung, the celebrated author of the "roman de la rose," was born in the year or , and was a great personage at the courts of louis x, philip the long, charles iv, and philip de valois. his famous poem of the "roman de la rose," which treats of every subject in vogue at that day, necessarily makes great mention of alchymy. jean was a firm believer in the art, and wrote, besides his, "roman," two shorter poems, the one entitled, "the remonstrance of nature to the wandering alchymist," and "the reply of the alchymist to nature." poetry and alchymy were his delight, and priests and women were his abomination. a pleasant story is related of him and the ladies of the court of charles iv. he had written the following libellous couplet upon the fair sex:-- "toutes etes, serez, ou futes de fait ou de volonte, putains, et qui, tres bien vous chercherait toutes putains, vous trouverait." [these verses are but a coarser expression of the slanderous line of pope, that "every woman is at heart a rake."] this naturally gave great offence; and being perceived one day, in the king's antechamber, by some ladies who were waiting for an audience, they resolved to punish him. to the number of ten or twelve, they armed themselves with canes and rods; and surrounding the unlucky poet, called upon the gentlemen present to strip him naked, that they might wreak just vengeance upon him, and lash him through the streets of the town. some of the lords present were in no wise loth, and promised themselves great sport from his punishment. but jean de meung was unmoved by their threats, and stood up calmly in the midst of them, begging them to hear him first, and then, if not satisfied, they might do as they liked with him. silence being restored, he stood upon a chair, and entered on his defence. he acknowledged that he was the author of the obnoxious verses, but denied that they bore reference to all womankind. he only meant to speak of the vicious and abandoned, whereas those whom he saw around him, were patterns of virtue, loveliness, and modesty. if, however, any lady present thought herself aggrieved, he would consent to be stripped, and she might lash him till her arms were wearied. it is added, that by this means jean escaped his flogging, and that the wrath of the fair ones immediately subsided. the gentlemen present were, however, of opinion, that if every lady in the room, whose character corresponded with the verses, had taken him at his word, the poet would, in all probability, have been beaten to death. all his life long he evinced a great animosity towards the priesthood, and his famous poem abounds with passages reflecting upon their avarice, cruelty, and immorality. at his death he left a large box, filled with some weighty material, which he bequeathed to the cordeliers, as a peace-offering, for the abuse he had lavished upon them. as his practice of alchymy was well-known, it was thought the box was filled with gold and silver, and the cordeliers congratulated each other on their rich acquisition. when it came to be opened, they found to their horror that it was filled only with slates, scratched with hieroglyphic and cabalistic characters. indignant at the insult, they determined to refuse him christian burial, on pretence that he was a sorcerer. he was, however, honourably buried in paris, the whole court attending his funeral. nicholas flamel. the story of this alchymist, as handed down by tradition, and enshrined in the pages of lenglet du fresnoy, is not a little marvellous. he was born at pontoise of a poor but respectable family, at the end of the thirteenth, or beginning of the fourteenth, century. having no patrimony, he set out for paris at an early age, to try his fortune as a public scribe. he had received a good education, was well skilled in the learned languages, and was an excellent penman. he soon procured occupation as a letter-writer and copyist, and used to sit at the corner of the rue de marivaux, and practise his calling: but he hardly made profits enough to keep body and soul together. to mend his fortunes he tried poetry; but this was a more wretched occupation still. as a transcriber he had at least gained bread and cheese; but his rhymes were not worth a crust. he then tried painting with as little success; and as a last resource, began to search for the philosopher's stone, and tell fortunes. this was a happier idea; he soon increased in substance, and had wherewithal to live comfortably. he, therefore, took unto himself his wife petronella, and began to save money; but continued to all outward appearance as poor and miserable as before. in the course of a few years, he became desperately addicted to the study of alchymy, and thought of nothing but the philosopher's stone, the elixir of life, and the universal alkahest. in the year , he bought by chance an old book for two florins, which soon became the sole study and object of his life. it was written with a steel instrument upon the bark of trees, and contained twenty-one, or as he himself always expressed it, three times seven, leaves. the writing was very elegant and in the latin language. each seventh leaf contained a picture and no writing. on the first of these was a serpent swallowing rods; on the second, a cross with a serpent crucified; and on the third, the representation of a desert, in the midst of which was a fountain with serpents crawling from side to side. it purported to be written by no less a personage than "abraham, patriarch, jew, prince, philosopher, priest, levite, and astrologer;" and invoked curses upon any one who should cast eyes upon it, without being a sacrificer or a scribe. nicholas flamel never thought it extraordinary that abraham should have known latin, and was convinced that the characters on his book had been traced by the hands of that great patriarch himself. he was at first afraid to read it, after he became aware of the curse it contained; but he got over that difficulty by recollecting that, although he was not a sacrificer, he had practised as a scribe. as he read he was filled with admiration, and found that it was a perfect treatise upon the transmutation of metals. all the process was clearly explained; the vessels, the retorts, the mixtures, and the proper times and seasons for the experiment. but as ill-luck would have it, the possession of the philosopher's stone or prime agent in the work was presupposed. this was a difficulty which was not to be got over. it was like telling a starving man how to cook a beefsteak, instead of giving him the money to buy one. but nicholas did not despair; and set about studying the hieroglyphics and allegorical representations with which the book abounded. he soon convinced himself that it had been one of the sacred books of the jews, and that it was taken from the temple of jerusalem on its destruction by titus. the process of reasoning by which he arrived at this conclusion is not stated. from some expression in the treatise, he learned that the allegorical drawings on the fourth and fifth leaves, enshrined the secret of the philosopher's stone, without which all the fine latin of the directions was utterly unavailing. he invited all the alchymists and learned men of paris to come and examine them, but they all departed as wise as they came. nobody could make anything either of nicholas or his pictures; and some even went so far as to say that his invaluable book was not worth a farthing. this was not to be borne; and nicholas resolved to discover the great secret by himself, without troubling the philosophers. he found on the first page, of the fourth leaf, the picture of mercury, attacked by an old man resembling saturn or time. the latter had an hourglass on his head, and in his hand a scythe, with which he aimed a blow at mercury's feet. the reverse of the leaf represented a flower growing on a mountain top, shaken rudely by the wind, with a blue stalk, red and white blossoms, and leaves of pure gold. around it were a great number of dragons and griffins. on the first page of the fifth leaf was a fine garden, in the midst of which was a rose tree in full bloom, supported against the trunk of a gigantic oak. at the foot of this there bubbled up a fountain of milk-white water, which forming a small stream, flowed through the garden, and was afterwards lost in the sands. on the second page was a king, with a sword in his hand, superintending a number of soldiers, who, in execution of his orders, were killing a great multitude of young children, spurning the prayers and tears of their mothers, who tried to save them from destruction. the blood of the children was carefully collected by another party of soldiers, and put into a large vessel, in which two allegorical figures of the sun and moon were bathing themselves. for twenty-one years poor nicholas wearied himself with the study of these pictures, but still he could make nothing of them. his wife petronella at last persuaded him to find out some learned rabbi; but there was no rabbi in paris learned enough to be of any service to him. the jews met but small encouragement to fix their abode in france, and all the chiefs of that people were located in spain. to spain accordingly nicholas flamel repaired. he left his book in paris for fear, perhaps, that he might be robbed of it on the road; and telling his neighbours that he was going on a pilgrimage to the shrine of st. james of compostello, he trudged on foot towards madrid in search of a rabbi. he was absent two years in that country, and made himself known to a great number of jews, descendants of those who had been expelled from france in the reign of philip augustus. the believers in the philosopher's stone give the following account of his adventures:--they say that at leon he made the acquaintance of a converted jew, named cauches, a very learned physician, to whom he explained the title and the nature of his little book. the doctor was transported with joy as soon as he heard it named, and immediately resolved to accompany nicholas to paris, that he might have a sight of it. the two set out together; the doctor on the way entertaining his companion with the history of his book, which, if the genuine book he thought it to be, from the description he had heard of it, was in the handwriting of abraham himself, and had been in the possession of personages no less distinguished than moses, joshua, solomon, and esdras. it contained all the secrets of alchymy and of many other sciences, and was the most valuable book that had ever existed in this world. the doctor was himself no mean adept, and nicholas profited greatly by his discourse, as in the garb of poor pilgrims they wended their way to paris, convinced of their power to turn every old shovel in that capital into pure gold. but, unfortunately, when they reached orleans, the doctor was taken dangerously ill. nicholas watched by his bedside, and acted the double part of a physician and nurse to him; but he died after a few days, lamenting with his last breath that he had not lived long enough to see the precious volume. nicholas rendered the last honours to his body; and with a sorrowful heart, and not one sous in his pocket, proceeded home to his wife petronella. he immediately recommenced the study of his pictures; but for two whole years he was as far from understanding them as ever. at last, in the third year, a glimmer of light stole over his understanding. he recalled some expression of his friend, the doctor, which had hitherto escaped his memory, and he found that all his previous experiments had been conducted on a wrong basis. he recommenced them now with renewed energy, and at the end of the year had the satisfaction to see all his toils rewarded. on the th january , says lenglet, he made a projection on mercury, and had some very excellent silver. on the th april following, he converted a large quantity of mercury into gold, and the great secret was his. nicholas was now about eighty years of age, and still a hale and stout old man. his friends say that, by the simultaneous discovery of the elixir of life, he found means to keep death at a distance for another quarter of a century; and that he died in , at the age of . in this interval he had made immense quantities of gold, though to all outward appearance he was as poor as a mouse. at an early period of his changed fortune, he had, like a worthy man, taken counsel with his old wife petronella, as to the best use he could make of his wealth. petronella replied, that as unfortunately they had no children, the best thing he could do, was to build hospitals and endow churches. nicholas thought so too, especially when he began to find that his elixir could not keep off death, and that the grim foe was making rapid advances upon him. he richly endowed the church of st. jacques de la boucherie, near the rue de marivaux, where he had all his life resided, besides seven others in different parts of the kingdom. he also endowed fourteen hospitals, and built three chapels. the fame of his great wealth and his munificent benefactions soon spread over all the country, and he was visited, among others, by the celebrated doctors of that day, jean gerson, jean de courtecuisse, and pierre d'ailli. they found him in his humble apartment, meanly clad, and eating porridge out of an earthen vessel; and with regard to his secret, as impenetrable as all his predecessors in alchymy. his fame reached the ears of the king, charles vi, who sent m. de cramoisi, the master of requests, to find out whether nicholas had indeed discovered the philosopher's stone. but m. de cramoisi took nothing by his visit; all his attempts to sound the alchymist were unavailing, and he returned to his royal master no wiser than he came. it was in this year, , that he lost his faithful petronella. he did not long survive her; but died in the following year, and was buried with great pomp by the grateful priests of st. jacques de la boucherie. the great wealth of nicholas flamel is undoubted, as the records of several churches and hospitals in france can testify. that he practised alchymy is equally certain, as he left behind several works upon the subject. those who knew him well, and who were incredulous about the philosopher's stone, give a very satisfactory solution of the secret of his wealth. they say that he was always a miser and a usurer; that his journey to spain was undertaken with very different motives from those pretended by the alchymists; that, in fact, he went to collect debts due from jews in that country to their brethren in paris, and that he charged a commission of fully cent. per cent. in consideration of the difficulty of collecting and the dangers of the road; that when he possessed thousands, he lived upon almost nothing; and was the general money-lender, at enormous profits, of all the dissipated young men at the french court. among the works written by nicholas flamel on the subject of alchymy, is "the philosophic summary," a poem, reprinted in , as an appendix to the third volume of the "roman de la rose." he also wrote three treatises upon natural philosophy, and an alchymic allegory, entitled "le desir desire." specimens of his writing, and a fac-simile of the drawings in his book of abraham, may be seen in salmon's "bibliotheque des philosophes chimiques." the writer of the article, "flamel," in the "biographie universelle," says that, for a hundred years after the death of flamel, many of the adepts believed that he was still alive, and that he would live for upwards of six hundred years. the house he formerly occupied, at the corner of the rue de marivaux, has been often taken by credulous speculators, and ransacked from top to bottom, in the hopes that gold might be found. a report was current in paris, not long previous to the year , that some lodgers had found in the cellars several jars filled with a dark-coloured ponderous matter. upon the strength of the rumour, a believer in all the wondrous tales told of nicholas flamel bought the house, and nearly pulled it to pieces in ransacking the walls and wainscotting for hidden gold. he got nothing for his pains, however, and had a heavy bill to pay to restore his dilapidations. george ripley. while alchymy was thus cultivated on the continent of europe, it was not neglected in the isles of britain. since the time of roger bacon, it had fascinated the imagination of many ardent men in england. in the year , an act of parliament was passed, declaring the making of gold and silver to be felony. great alarm was felt at that time lest any alchymist should succeed in his projects, and perhaps bring ruin upon the state, by furnishing boundless wealth to some designing tyrant, who would make use of it to enslave his country. this alarm appears to have soon subsided; for, in the year , king henry vi, by advice of his council and parliament, granted four successive patents and commissions to several knights, citizens of london, chemists, monks, mass-priests, and others, to find out the philosopher's stone and elixir, "to the great benefit," said the patent, "of the realm, and the enabling of the king to pay all the debts of the crown in real gold and silver." prinn, in his "aurum reginae," observes, as a note to this passage, that the king's reason for granting this patent to ecclesiastics was, that they were such good artists in transubstantiating bread and wine in the eucharist, and therefore the more likely to be able to effect the transmutation of baser metals into better. no gold, of course, was ever made; and, next year, the king, doubting very much of the practicability of the thing, took further advice, and appointed a commission of ten learned men, and persons of eminence, to judge and certify to him whether the transmutation of metals were a thing practicable or no. it does not appear whether the commission ever made any report upon the subject. in the succeeding reign, an alchymist appeared who pretended to have discovered the secret. this was george ripley, the canon of bridlington, in yorkshire. he studied for twenty years in the universities of italy, and was a great favourite with pope innocent viii, who made him one of his domestic chaplains, and master of the ceremonies in his household. returning to england in , he dedicated to king edward iv. his famous work, "the compound of alchymy; or, the twelve gates leading to the discovery of the philosopher's stone." these gates he described to be calcination, solution, separation, conjunction, putrefaction, congelation, cibation, sublimation, fermentation, exaltation, multiplication, and projection! to which he might have added botheration, the most important process of all. he was very rich, and allowed it to be believed that he could make gold out of iron. fuller, in his "worthies of england," says that an english gentleman of good credit reported that, in his travels abroad, he saw a record in the island of malta, which declared that ripley gave yearly to the knights of that island, and of rhodes, the enormous sum of one hundred thousand pounds sterling, to enable them to carry on the war against the turks. in his old age, he became an anchorite near boston, and wrote twenty-five volumes upon the subject of alchymy, the most important of which is the "duodecim portarum," already mentioned. before he died, he seems to have acknowledged that he had misspent his life in this vain study, and requested that all men, when they met with any of his books, would burn them, or afford them no credit, as they had been written merely from his opinion, and not from proof; and that subsequent trial had made manifest to him that they were false and vain. [fuller's "worthies of england."] basil valentine. germany also produced many famous alchymists in the fifteenth century, the chief of whom are basil valentine, bernard of treves, and the abbot trithemius. basil valentine was born at mayence, and was made prior of st. peter's, at erfurt, about the year . it was known, during his life, that he diligently sought the philosopher's stone, and that he had written some works upon the process of transmutation. they were thought, for many years, to be lost; but were, after his death, discovered enclosed in the stone work of one of the pillars in the abbey. they were twenty-one in number, and are fully set forth in the third volume of lenglet's "history of the hermetic philosophy." the alchymists asserted, that heaven itself conspired to bring to light these extraordinary works; and that the pillar in which they were enclosed was miraculously shattered by a thunderbolt; and that, as soon as the manuscripts were liberated, the pillar closed up again of its own accord! bernard of treves. the life of this philosopher is a remarkable instance of talent and perseverance misapplied. in the search of his chimera nothing could daunt him. repeated disappointment never diminished his hopes; and, from the age of fourteen to that of eighty-five, he was incessantly employed among the drugs and furnaces of his laboratory, wasting his life with the view of prolonging it, and reducing himself to beggary in the hopes of growing rich. he was born at either treves or padua, in the year . his father is said by some to have been a physician in the latter city; and by others, to have been count of the marches of treves, and one of the most wealthy nobles of his country. at all events, whether noble or physician, he was a rich man, and left his son a magnificent estate. at the age of fourteen he first became enamoured of the science of alchymy, and read the arabian authors in their own language. he himself has left a most interesting record of his labours and wanderings, from which the following particulars are chiefly extracted:--the first book which fell into his hands, was that of the arabian philosopher, rhazes, from the reading of which he imagined that he had discovered the means of augmenting gold a hundred fold. for four years he worked in his laboratory, with the book of rhazes continually before him. at the end of that time, he found that he had spent no less than eight hundred crowns upon his experiment, and had got nothing but fire and smoke for his pains. he now began to lose confidence in rhazes, and turned to the works of geber. he studied him assiduously for two years; and, being young, rich, and credulous, was beset by all the chymists of the town, who kindly assisted him in spending his money. he did not lose his faith in geber, or patience with his hungry assistants, until he had lost two thousand crowns--a very considerable sum in those days. among all the crowd of pretended men of science who surrounded him, there was but one as enthusiastic and as disinterested as himself. with this man, who was a monk of the order of st. francis, he contracted an intimate friendship, and spent nearly all his time. some obscure treatises of rupecissa and sacrobosco having fallen into their hands, they were persuaded, from reading them, that highly rectified spirits of wine was the universal alkahest, or dissolvent, which would aid them greatly in the process of transmutation. they rectified the alcohol thirty times, till they made it so strong as to burst the vessels which contained it. after they had worked three years, and spent three hundred crowns in the liquor, they discovered that they were on the wrong track. they next tried alum and copperas; but the great secret still escaped them. they afterwards imagined that there was a marvellous virtue in all excrement, especially the human, and actually employed more than two years in experimentalizing upon it, with mercury, salt, and molten lead! again the adepts flocked around him from far and near, to aid him with their counsels. he received them all hospitably, and divided his wealth among them so generously and unhesitatingly, that they gave him the name of the "good trevisan," by which he is still often mentioned in works that treat on alchymy. for twelve years he led this life, making experiments every day upon some new substance, and praying to god night and morning that he might discover the secret of transmutation. in this interval he lost his friend the monk, and was joined by a magistrate of the city of treves, as ardent as himself in the search. his new acquaintance imagined that the ocean was the mother of gold, and that sea-salt would change lead or iron into the precious metals. bernard resolved to try; and, transporting his laboratory to a house on the coast of the baltic, he worked upon salt for more than a year, melting it, sublimating it, crystalizing it, and occasionally drinking it, for the sake of other experiments. still the strange enthusiast was not wholly discouraged, and his failure in one trial only made him the more anxious to attempt another. he was now approaching the age of fifty, and had as yet seen nothing of the world. he, therefore, determined to travel through germany, italy, france, and spain. wherever he stopped he made inquiries whether there were any alchymists in the neighbourhood. he invariably sought them out; and, if they were poor, relieved, and, if affluent, encouraged them. at citeaux he became acquainted with one geoffrey leuvier, a monk of that place, who persuaded him that the essence of egg-shells was a valuable ingredient. he tried, therefore, what could be done; and was only prevented from wasting a year or two on the experiment by the opinions of an attorney, at berghem, in flanders, who said that the great secret resided in vinegar and copperas. he was not convinced of the absurdity of this idea until he had nearly poisoned himself. he resided in france for about five years, when, hearing accidentally that one master henry, confessor to the emperor frederic iii, had discovered the philosopher's stone, he set out for germany to pay him a visit. he had, as usual, surrounded himself with a set of hungry dependants, several of whom determined to accompany him. he had not heart to refuse them, and he arrived at vienna with five of them. bernard sent a polite invitation to the confessor, and gave him a sumptuous entertainment, at which were present nearly all the alchymists of vienna. master henry frankly confessed that he had not discovered the philosopher's stone, but that he had all his life been employed in searching for it, and would so continue, till he found it;--or died. this was a man after bernard's own heart, and they vowed with each other an eternal friendship. it was resolved, at supper, that each alchymist present should contribute a certain sum towards raising forty-two marks of gold, which, in five days, it was confidently asserted by master henry, would increase, in his furnace, five fold. bernard, being the richest man, contributed the lion's share, ten marks of gold, master henry five, and the others one or two a piece, except the dependants of bernard, who were obliged to borrow their quota from their patron. the grand experiment was duly made; the golden marks were put into a crucible, with a quantity of salt, copperas, aquafortis, egg-shells, mercury, lead, and dung. the alchymists watched this precious mess with intense interest, expecting that it would agglomerate into one lump of pure gold. at the end of three weeks they gave up the trial, upon some excuse that the crucible was not strong enough, or that some necessary ingredient was wanting. whether any thief had put his hands into the crucible is not known, but it is certain that the gold found therein at the close of the experiment was worth only sixteen marks, instead of the forty-two, which were put there at the beginning. bernard, though he made no gold at vienna, made away with a very considerable quantity. he felt the loss so acutely, that he vowed to think no more of the philosopher's stone. this wise resolution he kept for two months; but he was miserable. he was in the condition of the gambler, who cannot resist the fascination of the game while he has a coin remaining, but plays on with the hope of retrieving former losses, till hope forsakes him, and he can live no longer. he returned once more to his beloved crucibles, and resolved to prosecute his journey in search of a philosopher who had discovered the secret, and would communicate it to so zealous and persevering an adept as himself. from vienna he travelled to rome, and from rome to madrid. taking ship at gibraltar, he proceeded to messina; from messina to cyprus; from cyprus to greece; from greece to constantinople; and thence into egypt, palestine, and persia. these wanderings occupied him about eight years. from persia he made his way back to messina, and from thence into france. he afterwards passed over into england, still in search of his great chimera; and this occupied four years more of his life. he was now growing both old and poor; for he was sixty-two years of age, and had been obliged to sell a great portion of his patrimony to provide for his expenses. his journey to persia had cost upwards of thirteen thousand crowns, about one-half of which had been fairly melted in his all-devouring furnaces: the other half was lavished upon the sycophants that he made it his business to search out in every town he stopped at. on his return to treves he found, to his sorrow, that, if not an actual beggar, he was not much better. his relatives looked upon him as a madman, and refused even to see him. too proud to ask for favours from any one, and still confident that, some day or other, he would be the possessor of unbounded wealth, he made up his mind to retire to the island of rhodes, where he might, in the mean time, hide his poverty from the eyes of all the world. here he might have lived unknown and happy; but, as ill luck would have it, he fell in with a monk as mad as himself upon the subject of transmutation. they were, however, both so poor that they could not afford to buy the proper materials to work with. they kept up each other's spirits by learned discourses on the hermetic philosophy, and in the reading of all the great authors who had written upon the subject. thus did they nurse their folly, as the good wife of tam o'shanter did her wrath, "to keep it warm." after bernard had resided about a year in rhodes, a merchant, who knew his family, advanced him the sum of eight thousand florins, upon the security of the last-remaining acres of his formerly large estate. once more provided with funds, he recommenced his labours with all the zeal and enthusiasm of a young man. for three years he hardly stepped out of his laboratory: he ate there, and slept there, and did not even give himself time to wash his hands and clean his beard, so intense was his application. it is melancholy to think that such wonderful perseverance should have been wasted in so vain a pursuit, and that energies so unconquerable should have had no worthier field to strive in. even when he had fumed away his last coin, and had nothing left in prospective to keep his old age from starvation, hope never forsook him. he still dreamed of ultimate success, and sat down a greyheaded man of eighty, to read over all the authors on the hermetic mysteries, from geber to his own day, lest he should have misunderstood some process, which it was not yet too late to recommence. the alchymists say, that he succeeded at last, and discovered the secret of transmutation in his eighty-second year. they add, that he lived three years afterwards to enjoy his wealth. he lived, it is true, to this great age, and made a valuable discovery--more valuable than gold or gems. he learned, as he himself informs us, just before he had attained his eighty-third year, that the great secret of philosophy was contentment with our lot. happy would it have been for him if he had discovered it sooner, and before he became decrepit, a beggar, and an exile! he died at rhodes, in the year , and all the alchymists of europe sang elegies over him, and sounded his praise as the "good trevisan." he wrote several treatises upon his chimera, the chief of which are, the "book of chemistry," the "verbum dimissum," and an essay "de natura ovi." trithemius. the name of this eminent man has become famous in the annals of alchymy, although he did but little to gain so questionable an honour. he was born in the year , at the village of trittheim, in the electorate of treves. his father was john heidenberg, a vine-grower, in easy circumstances, who, dying when his son was but seven years old, left him to the care of his mother. the latter married again very shortly afterwards, and neglected the poor boy, the offspring of her first marriage. at the age of fifteen he did not even know his letters, and was, besides, half starved, and otherwise ill-treated by his step-father; but the love of knowledge germinated in the breast of the unfortunate youth, and he learned to read at the house of a neighbour. his father-in-law set him to work in the vineyards, and thus occupied all his days; but the nights were his own. he often stole out unheeded, when all the household were fast asleep, poring over his studies in the fields, by the light of the moon; and thus taught himself latin and the rudiments of greek. he was subjected to so much ill-usage at home, in consequence of this love of study, that he determined to leave it. demanding the patrimony which his father had left him, he proceeded to treves; and, assuming the name of trithemius, from that of his native village of trittheim, lived there for some months, under the tuition of eminent masters, by whom he was prepared for the university. at the age of twenty, he took it into his head that he should like to see his mother once more; and he set out on foot from the distant university for that purpose. on his arrival near spannheim, late in the evening of a gloomy winter's day, it came on to snow so thickly, that he could not proceed onwards to the town. he, therefore, took refuge for the night in a neighbouring monastery; but the storm continued several days, the roads became impassable, and the hospitable monks would not hear of his departure. he was so pleased with them and their manner of life, that he suddenly resolved to fix his abode among them, and renounce the world. they were no less pleased with him, and gladly received him as a brother. in the course of two years, although still so young, he was unanimously elected their abbot. the financial affairs of the establishment had been greatly neglected, the walls of the building were falling into ruin, and everything was in disorder. trithemius, by his good management and regularity, introduced a reform in every branch of expenditure. the monastery was repaired, and a yearly surplus, instead of a deficiency, rewarded him for his pains. he did not like to see the monks idle, or occupied solely between prayers for their business, and chess for their relaxation. he, therefore, set them to work to copy the writings of eminent authors. they laboured so assiduously, that, in the course of a few years, their library, which had contained only about forty volumes, was enriched with several hundred valuable manuscripts, comprising many of the classical latin authors, besides the works of the early fathers, and the principal historians and philosophers of more modern date. he retained the dignity of abbot of spannheim for twenty-one years, when the monks, tired of the severe discipline he maintained, revolted against him, and chose another abbot in his place. he was afterwards made abbot of st. james, in wurtzburg, where he died in . during his learned leisure at spannheim, he wrote several works upon the occult sciences, the chief of which are an essay on geomancy, or divination by means of lines and circles on the ground; another upon sorcery; a third upon alchymy; and a fourth upon the government of the world by its presiding angels, which was translated into english, and published by the famous william lilly in . it has been alleged by the believers in the possibility of transmutation, that the prosperity of the abbey of spannheim, while under his superintendence, was owing more to the philosopher's stone than to wise economy. trithemius, in common with many other learned men, has been accused of magic; and a marvellous story is told of his having raised from the grave the form of mary of burgundy, at the intercession of her widowed husband, the emperor maximilian. his work on steganographia, or cabalistic writing, was denounced to the count palatine, frederic ii, as magical and devilish; and it was by him taken from the shelves of his library and thrown into the fire. trithemius is said to be the first writer who makes mention of the wonderful story of the devil and dr. faustus, the truth of which he firmly believed. he also recounts the freaks of a spirit, named hudekin, by whom he was at times tormented. [biographie universelle] the marechal de rays. one of the greatest encouragers of alchymy in the fifteenth century was gilles de laval, lord of rays and a marshal of france. his name and deeds are little known; but in the annals of crime and folly, they might claim the highest and worst pro-eminence. fiction has never invented anything wilder or more horrible than his career; and were not the details but too well authenticated by legal and other documents which admit no doubt, the lover of romance might easily imagine they were drawn to please him from the stores of the prolific brain, and not from the page of history. he was born about the year , of one of the noblest families of brittany. his father dying when gilles had attained his twentieth year, he came into uncontrolled possession, at that early age, of a fortune which the monarchs of france might have envied him. he was a near kinsman of the montmorencys, the roncys, and the craons; possessed fifteen princely domains, and had an annual revenue of about three hundred thousand livres. besides this, he was handsome, learned, and brave. he distinguished himself greatly in the wars of charles vii, and was rewarded by that monarch with the dignity of a marshal of france. but he was extravagant and magnificent in his style of living, and accustomed from his earliest years to the gratification of every wish and passion; and this, at last, led him from vice to vice, and from crime to crime, till a blacker name than his is not to be found in any record of human iniquity. in his castle of champtoce, he lived with all the splendour of an eastern caliph. he kept up a troop of two hundred horsemen to accompany him wherever he went; and his excursions for the purposes of hawking and hunting were the wonder of all the country around, so magnificent were the caparisons of his steeds and the dresses of his retainers. day and night, his castle was open all the year round to comers of every degree. he made it a rule to regale even the poorest beggar with wine and hippocrass. every day an ox was roasted whole in his spacious kitchens, besides sheep, pigs, and poultry sufficient to feed five hundred persons. he was equally magnificent in his devotions. his private chapel at champtoce was the most beautiful in france, and far surpassed any of those in the richly-endowed cathedrals of notre dame in paris, of amiens, of beauvais, or of rouen. it was hung with cloth of gold and rich velvet. all the chandeliers were of pure gold, curiously inlaid with silver. the great crucifix over the altar was of solid silver, and the chalices and incense-burners were of pure gold. he had, besides, a fine organ, which he caused to be carried from one castle to another, on the shoulders of six men, whenever he changed his residence. he kept up a choir of twenty-five young children of both sexes, who were instructed in singing by the first musicians of the day. the master of his chapel he called a bishop, who had under him his deans, archdeacons, and vicars, each receiving great salaries; the bishop four hundred crowns a year, and the rest in proportion. he also maintained a whole troop of players, including ten dancing-girls and as many ballad-singers, besides morris-dancers, jugglers, and mountebanks of every description. the theatre on which they performed was fitted up without any regard to expense; and they played mysteries, or danced the morris-dance, every evening, for the amusement of himself and household, and such strangers as were sharing his prodigal hospitality. at the age of twenty-three, he married catherine, the wealthy heiress of the house of touars, for whom he refurnished his castle at an expense of a hundred thousand crowns. his marriage was the signal for new extravagance, and he launched out more madly than ever he had done before; sending for fine singers or celebrated dancers from foreign countries to amuse him and his spouse, and instituting tilts and tournaments in his great court-yard almost every week for all the knights and nobles of the province of brittany. the duke of brittany's court was not half so splendid as that of the marechal de rays. his utter disregard of wealth was so well known that he was made to pay three times its value for everything he purchased. his castle was filled with needy parasites and panderers to his pleasures, amongst whom he lavished rewards with an unsparing hand. but the ordinary round of sensual gratification ceased at last to afford him delight: he was observed to be more abstemious in the pleasures of the table, and to neglect the beauteous dancing-girls who used formerly to occupy so much of his attention. he was sometimes gloomy and reserved; and there was an unnatural wildness in his eye which gave indications of incipient madness. still, his discourse was as reasonable as ever; his urbanity to the guests that flocked from far and near to champtoce suffered no diminution; and learned priests, when they conversed with him, thought to themselves that few of the nobles of france were so well-informed as gilles de laval. but dark rumours spread gradually over the country; murder, and, if possible, still more atrocious deeds were hinted at; and it was remarked that many young children, of both sexes, suddenly disappeared, and were never afterwards heard of. one or two had been traced to the castle of champtoce, and had never been seen to leave it; but no one dared to accuse openly so powerful a man as the marechal de rays. whenever the subject of the lost children was mentioned in his presence, he manifested the greatest astonishment at the mystery which involved their fate, and indignation against those who might be guilty of kidnapping them. still the world was not wholly deceived; his name became as formidable to young children as that of the devouring ogre in fairy tales; and they were taught to go miles round, rather than pass under the turrets of champtoce. in the course of a very few years, the reckless extravagance of the marshal drained him of all his funds, and he was obliged to put up some of his estates for sale. the duke of brittany entered into a treaty with him for the valuable seignory of ingrande; but the heirs of gilles implored the interference of charles vii. to stay the sale. charles immediately issued an edict, which was confirmed by the provincial parliament of brittany, forbidding him to alienate his paternal estates. gilles had no alternative but to submit. he had nothing to support his extravagance but his allowance as a marshal of france, which did not cover the one-tenth of his expenses. a man of his habits and character could not retrench his wasteful expenditure and live reasonably; he could not dismiss without a pang his horsemen, his jesters, his morris-dancers, his choristers, and his parasites, or confine his hospitality to those who really needed it. notwithstanding his diminished resources, he resolved to live as he had lived before, and turn alchymist, that he might make gold out of iron, and be still the wealthiest and most magnificent among the nobles of brittany. in pursuance of this determination he sent to paris, italy, germany, and spain, inviting all the adepts in the science to visit him at champtoce. the messengers he despatched on this mission were two of his most needy and unprincipled dependants, gilles de sille and roger de bricqueville. the latter, the obsequious panderer to his most secret and abominable pleasures, he had intrusted with the education of his motherless daughter, a child but five years of age, with permission, that he might marry her at the proper time to any person he chose, or to himself if he liked it better. this man entered into the new plans of his master with great zeal, and introduced to him one prelati, an alchymist of padua, and a physician of poitou, who was addicted to the same pursuits. the marshal caused a splendid laboratory to be fitted up for them, and the three commenced the search for the philosopher's stone. they were soon afterwards joined by another pretended philosopher, named anthony of palermo, who aided in their operations for upwards of a year. they all fared sumptuously at the marshal's expense, draining him of the ready money he possessed, and leading him on from day to day with the hope that they would succeed in the object of their search. from time to time new aspirants from the remotest parts of europe arrived at his castle, and for months he had upwards of twenty alchymists at work--trying to transmute copper into gold, and wasting the gold, which was still his own, in drugs and elixirs. but the lord of rays was not a man to abide patiently their lingering processes. pleased with their comfortable quarters, they jogged on from day to day, and would have done so for years, had they been permitted. but he suddenly dismissed them all, with the exception of the italian prelati, and the physician of poitou. these he retained to aid him to discover the secret of the philosopher's stone by a bolder method. the poitousan had persuaded him that the devil was the great depositary of that and all other secrets, and that he would raise him before gilles, who might enter into any contract he pleased with him. gilles expressed his readiness, and promised to give the devil anything but his soul, or do any deed that the arch-enemy might impose upon him. attended solely by the physician, he proceeded at midnight to a wild-looking place in a neighbouring forest; the physician drew a magic circle around them on the sward, and muttered for half an hour an invocation to the evil spirit to arise at his bidding, and disclose the secrets of alchymy. gilles looked on with intense interest, and expected every moment to see the earth open, and deliver to his gaze the great enemy of mankind. at last the eyes of the physician became fixed, his hair stood on end, and he spoke, as if addressing the fiend. but gilles saw nothing except his companion. at last the physician fell down on the sward as if insensible. gilles looked calmly on to see the end. after a few minutes the physician arose, and asked him if he had not seen how angry the devil looked? gilles replied, that he had seen nothing; upon which his companion informed him that beelzebub had appeared in the form of a wild leopard, growled at him savagely, and said nothing; and that the reason why the marshal had neither seen nor heard him, was that he hesitated in his own mind as to devoting himself entirely to the service. de rays owned that he had indeed misgivings, and inquired what was to be done to make the devil speak out, and unfold his secret? the physician replied, that some person must go to spain and africa to collect certain herbs which only grew in those countries, and offered to go himself, if de rays would provide the necessary funds. de rays at once consented; and the physician set out on the following day with all the gold that his dupe could spare him. the marshal never saw his face again. but the eager lord of champtoce could not rest. gold was necessary for his pleasures; and unless, by supernatural aid, he had no means of procuring many further supplies. the physician was hardly twenty leagues on his journey, before gilles resolved to make another effort to force the devil to divulge the art of gold making. he went out alone for that purpose, but all his conjurations were of no effect. beelzebub was obstinate, and would not appear. determined to conquer him if he could, he unbosomed himself to the italian alchymist, prelati. the latter offered to undertake the business, upon condition that de rays did not interfere in the conjurations, and consented besides to furnish him with all the charms and talismans that might be required. he was further to open a vein in his arm, and sign with his blood a contract that he would work the devil's will in all things, and offer up to him a sacrifice of the heart, lungs, hands, eyes, and blood of a young child. the grasping monomaniac made no hesitation; but agreed at once to the disgusting terms proposed to him. on the following night, prelati went out alone; and after having been absent for three or four hours, returned to gilles, who sat anxiously awaiting him. prelati then informed him that he had seen the devil in the shape of a handsome youth of twenty. he further said, that the devil desired to be called barron in all future invocations; and had shown him a great number of ingots of pure gold, buried under a large oak in the neighbouring forest, all of which, and as many more as he desired, should become the property of the marechal de rays if he remained firm, and broke no condition of the contract. prelati further showed him a small casket of black dust, which would turn iron into gold; but as the process was very troublesome, he advised that they should be contented with the ingots they found under the oak tree, and which would more than supply all the wants that the most extravagant imagination could desire. they were not, however, to attempt to look for the gold till a period of seven times seven weeks, or they would find nothing but slates and stones for their pains. gilles expressed the utmost chagrin and disappointment, and at once said that he could not wait for so long a period; if the devil were not more prompt, prelati might tell him, that the marechal de rays was not to be trifled with, and would decline all further communication with him. prelati at last persuaded him to wait seven times seven days. they then went at midnight with picks and shovels to dig up the ground under the oak, where they found nothing to reward them but a great quantity of slates, marked with hieroglyphics. it was now prelati's turn to be angry; and he loudly swore that the devil was nothing but a liar and a cheat. the marshal joined cordially in the opinion, but was easily persuaded by the cunning italian to make one more trial. he promised at the same time that he would endeavour, on the following night, to discover the reason why the devil had broken his word. he went out alone accordingly, and on his return informed his patron that he had seen barron, who was exceedingly angry that they had not waited the proper time ere they looked for the ingots. barron had also said, that the marechal de rays could hardly expect any favours from him, at a time when he must know that he had been meditating a pilgrimage to the holy land, to make atonement for his sins. the italian had doubtless surmised this, from some incautious expression of his patron, for de rays frankly confessed that there were times when, sick of the world and all its pomps and vanities, he thought of devoting himself to the service of god. in this manner the italian lured on from month to month his credulous and guilty patron, extracting from him all the valuables he possessed, and only waiting a favourable opportunity to decamp with his plunder. but the day of retribution was at hand for both. young girls and boys continued to disappear in the most mysterious manner; and the rumours against the owner of champtoce grew so loud and distinct, that the church was compelled to interfere. representations were made by the bishop of nantes to the duke of brittany, that it would be a public scandal if the accusations against the marechal de rays were not inquired into. he was arrested accordingly in his own castle, along with his accomplice prelati, and thrown into a dungeon at nantes to await his trial. the judges appointed to try him were the bishop of nantes chancellor of brittany, the vicar of the inquisition in france, and the celebrated pierre l'hopital, the president of the provincial parliament. the offences laid to his charge were sorcery, sodomy, and murder. gilles, on the first day of his trial, conducted himself with the utmost insolence. he braved the judges on the judgment seat, calling them simoniacs and persons of impure life, and said he would rather be hanged by the neck like a dog without trial, than plead either guilty or not guilty to such contemptible miscreants. but his confidence forsook him as the trial proceeded, and he was found guilty on the clearest evidence of all the crimes laid to his charge. it was proved that he took insane pleasure in stabbing the victims of his lust, and in observing the quivering of their flesh, and the fading lustre of their eyes as they expired. the confession of prelati first made the judges acquainted with this horrid madness, and gilles himself confirmed it before his death. nearly a hundred children of the villagers around his two castles of champtoce and machecoue, had been missed within three years the greater part, if not all, of whom were immolated to the lust or the cupidity of this monster. he imagined that he thus made the devil his friend, and that his recompence would be the secret of the philosopher's stone. gilles and prelati were both condemned to be burned alive. at the place of execution they assumed the air of penitence and religion. gilles tenderly embraced prelati, saying, "farewell, friend francis! in this world we shall never meet again; but let us place our hopes in god; we shall see each other in paradise." out of consideration for his high rank and connections, the punishment of the marshal was so far mitigated, that he was not burned alive like prelati. he was first strangled, and then thrown into the flames: his body, when half consumed, was given over to his relatives for interment; while that of the italian was burned to ashes, and then scattered in the winds. [for full details of this extraordinary trial, see "lobineau's nouvelle histoire de bretagne;" and d'argentre's work on the same subject.] jacques coeur. this remarkable pretender to the secret of the philosopher's stone, was contemporary with the last mentioned. he was a great personage at the court of charles vii, and in the events of his reign played a prominent part. from a very humble origin he rose to the highest honours of the state, and amassed enormous wealth, by peculation and the plunder of the country which he should have served. it was to hide his delinquencies in this respect, and to divert attention from the real source of his riches, that he boasted of having discovered the art of transmuting the inferior metals into gold and silver. his father was a goldsmith in the city of bourges; but so reduced in circumstances towards the latter years of his life, that he was unable to pay the necessary fees to procure his son's admission into the guild. young jacques became, however, a workman in the royal mint of bourges, in , and behaved himself so well, and showed so much knowledge of metallurgy, that he attained rapid promotion in that establishment. he had also the good fortune to make the acquaintance of the fair agnes sorel, by whom he was patronized and much esteemed. jacques had now three things in his favour--ability, perseverance, and the countenance of the king's mistress. many a man succeeds with but one of these to help him forward: and it would have been strange indeed, if jacques coeur, who had them all, should have languished in obscurity. while still a young man he was made master of the mint, in which he had been a journeyman, and installed at the same time into the vacant office of grand treasurer of the royal household. he possessed an extensive knowledge of finance, and turned it wonderfully to his own advantage as soon as he became intrusted with extensive funds. he speculated in articles of the first necessity, and made himself very unpopular by buying up grain, honey, wines, and other produce, till there was a scarcity, when he sold it again at enormous profit. strong in the royal favour, he did not hesitate to oppress the poor by continual acts of forestalling and monopoly. as there is no enemy so bitter as the estranged friend, so of all the tyrants and tramplers upon the poor, there is none so fierce and reckless as the upstart that sprang from their ranks. the offensive pride of jacques coeur to his inferiors was the theme of indignant reproach in his own city, and his cringing humility to those above him was as much an object of contempt to the aristocrats into whose society he thrust himself. but jacques did not care for the former, and to the latter he was blind. he continued his career till he became the richest man in france, and so useful to the king that no important enterprise was set on foot until he had been consulted. he was sent in on an embassy to genoa, and in the following year to pope nicholas v. in both these missions he acquitted himself to the satisfaction of his sovereign, and was rewarded with a lucrative appointment, in addition to those which he already held. in the year , the english in normandy, deprived of their great general, the duke of bedford, broke the truce with the french king, and took possession of a small town belonging to the duke of brittany. this was the signal for the recommencemerit of a war, in which the french regained possession of nearly the whole province. the money for this war was advanced, for the most part, by jacques coeur. when rouen yielded to the french, and charles made his triumphal entry into that city, accompanied by dunois and his most famous generals, jacques was among the most brilliant of his cortege. his chariot and horses vied with those of the king in the magnificence of their trappings; and his enemies said of him that he publicly boasted that he alone had driven out the english, and that the valour of the troops would would have been nothing without his gold. dunois appears, also, to have been partly of the same opinion. without disparaging the courage of the army, he acknowledged the utility of the able financier, by whose means they had been fed and paid, and constantly afforded him his powerful protection. when peace returned, jacques again devoted himself to commerce, and fitted up several galleys to trade with the genoese. he also bought large estates in various parts of france; the chief of which were the baronies of st. fargeau, meneton, salone, maubranche, meaune, st. gerant de vaux, and st. aon de boissy; the earldoms or counties of la palisse, champignelle, beaumont, and villeneuve la genet, and the marquisate of toucy. he also procured for his son, jean coeur, who had chosen the church for his profession, a post no less distinguished than that of archbishop of bourges. everybody said that so much wealth could not have been honestly acquired; and both rich and poor longed for the day that should humble the pride of the man, whom the one class regarded as an upstart and the other as an oppressor. jacques was somewhat alarmed at the rumours that were afloat respecting him, and of dark hints that he had debased the coin of the realm and forged the king's seal to an important document, by which he had defrauded the state of very considerable sums. to silence these rumours, he invited many alchymists from foreign countries to reside with him, and circulated a counter-rumour, that he had discovered the secret of the philosopher's stone. he also built a magnificent house in his native city, over the entrance of which he caused to be sculptured the emblems of that science. some time afterwards, he built another, no less splendid, at montpellier, which he inscribed in a similar manner. he also wrote a treatise upon the hermetic philosophy, in which he pretended that he knew the secret of transmuting metals. but all these attempts to disguise his numerous acts of peculation proved unavailing; and he was arrested in , and brought to trial on several charges. upon one only, which the malice of his enemies invented to ruin him, was he acquitted; which was, that he had been accessory to the death, by poison, of his kind patroness, agnes sorel. upon the others, he was found guilty; and sentenced to be banished the kingdom, and to pay the enormous fine of four hundred thousand crowns. it was proved that he had forged the king's seal; that, in his capacity of master of the mint of bourges, he had debased, to a very great extent, the gold and silver coin of the realm; and that he had not hesitated to supply the turks with arms and money to enable them to carry on war against their christian neighbours, for which service he had received the most munificent recompences. charles vii. was deeply grieved at his condemnation, and believed to the last that he was innocent. by his means the fine was reduced within a sum which jacques coeur could pay. after remaining for some time in prison, he was liberated, and left france with a large sum of money, part of which, it was alleged, was secretly paid him by charles out of the produce of his confiscated estates. he retired to cyprus, where he died about , the richest and most conspicuous personage of the island. the writers upon alchymy all claim jacques coeur as a member of their fraternity, and treat as false and libellous the more rational explanation of his wealth which the records of his trial afford. pierre borel, in his "antiquites gauloises," maintains the opinion that jacques was an honest man, and that he made his gold out of lead and copper by means of the philosopher's stone. the alchymic adepts in general were of the same opinion; but they found it difficult to persuade even his contemporaries of the fact. posterity is still less likely to believe it. inferior adepts of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. many other pretenders to the secrets of the philosopher's stone appeared in every country in europe, during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. the possibility of transmutation was so generally admitted, that every chemist was more or less an alchymist. germany, holland, italy, spain, poland, france, and england produced thousands of obscure adepts, who supported themselves, in the pursuit of their chimera, by the more profitable resources of astrology and divination. the monarchs of europe were no less persuaded than their subjects of the possibility of discovering the philosopher's stone. henry vi. and edward iv. of england encouraged alchymy. in germany, the emperors maximilian, rodolph, and frederic ii. devoted much of their attention to it; and every inferior potentate within their dominions imitated their example. it was a common practice in germany, among the nobles and petty sovereigns, to invite an alchymist to take up his residence among them, that they might confine him in a dungeon till he made gold enough to pay millions for his ransom. many poor wretches suffered perpetual imprisonment in consequence. a similar fate appears to have been intended by edward ii. for raymond lulli, who, upon the pretence that he was thereby honoured, was accommodated with apartments in the tower of london. he found out in time the trick that was about to be played him, and managed to make his escape, some of his biographers say, by jumping into the thames, and swimming to a vessel that lay waiting to receive him. in the sixteenth century, the same system was pursued, as will be shown more fully in the life of seton the cosmopolite, in the succeeding chapter. the following is a catalogue of the chief authors upon alchymy, who flourished during this epoch, and whose lives and adventures are either unknown or are unworthy of more detailed notice. john dowston, an englishman, lived in , and wrote two treatises on the philosopher's stone. richard, or, as some call him, robert, also an englishman, lived in , and wrote a work entitled "correctorium alchymiae," which was much esteemed till the time of paracelsus. in the same year lived peter of lombardy, who wrote what he called a "complete treatise upon the hermetic science," an abridgement of which was afterwards published by lacini, a monk of calabria. in the most famous alchymist of paris was one odomare, whose work "de practica magistri" was, for a long time, a hand-book among the brethren of the science. john de rupecissa, a french monk of the order of st. francis, flourished in , and pretended to be a prophet as well as an alchymist. some of his prophecies were so disagreeable to pope innocent vi, that the pontiff determined to put a stop to them, by locking up the prophet in the dungeons of the vatican. it is generally believed that he died there, though there is no evidence of the fact. his chief works are the "book of light," the "five essences," the "heaven of philosophers," and his grand work "de confectione lapidis." he was not thought a shining light among the adepts. ortholani was another pretender, of whom nothing is known, but that he exercised the arts of alchymy and astrology at paris, shortly before the time of nicholas flamel. his work on the practice of alchymy was written in that city in . isaac of holland wrote, it is supposed, about this time; and his son also devoted himself to the science. nothing worth repeating is known of their lives. boerhaave speaks with commendation of many passages in their works, and paracelsus esteemed them highly: the chief are "de triplici ordine elixiris et lapidis theoria," printed at berne in ; and "mineralia opera, seu de lapide philosophico," printed at middleburg in . they also wrote eight other works upon the same subject. koffstky, a pole, wrote an alchymical treatise, entitled "the tincture of minerals," about the year . in this list of authors a royal name must not be forgotten. charles vi. of france, one of the most credulous princes of the day, whose court absolutely swarmed with alchymists, conjurers, astrologers, and quacks of every description, made several attempts to discover the philosopher's stone, and thought he knew so much about it, that he determined to enlighten the world with a treatise. it is called the "royal work of charles vi. of france, and the treasure of philosophy." it is said to be the original from which nicholas flamel took the idea of his "desir desire." lenglet du fresnoy says it is very allegorical, and utterly incomprehensible. for a more complete list of the hermetic philosophers of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, the reader is referred to the third volume of lenglet's history already quoted. part ii.--progress of the infatuation during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. augurello.--cornelius agrippa.--paracelsus.--george agricola.--denys zachaire.--dr. dee and edward kelly.--the cosmopolite.--sendivogius.--the rosicrucians.--michael mayer.--robert fludd.--jacob bohmen.--john heydn.--joseph francis borri.--alchymical writers of the seventeenth century.--de lisle.--albert aluys.--count de st. germains.--cagliostro.--present state of the science. during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the search for the philosopher's stone was continued by thousands of the enthusiastic and the credulous; but a great change was introduced during this period. the eminent men who devoted themselves to the study, totally changed its aspect, and referred to the possession of their wondrous stone and elixir, not only the conversion of the base into the precious metals, but the solution of all the difficulties of other sciences. they pretended that by its means man would be brought into closer communion with his maker; that disease and sorrow would be banished from the world; and that "the millions of spiritual beings who walk the earth unseen" would be rendered visible, and become the friends, companions, and instructors of mankind. in the seventeenth century more especially, these poetical and fantastic doctrines excited the notice of europe; and from germany, where they had been first disseminated by rosencreutz, spread into france and england, and ran away with the sound judgment of many clever, but too enthusiastic, searchers for the truth. paracelsus, dee, and many others of less note, were captivated by the grace and beauty of the new mythology, which was arising to adorn the literature of europe. most of the alchymists of the sixteenth century, although ignorant of the rosicrucians as a sect, were, in some degree, tinctured with their fanciful tenets: but before we speak more fully of these poetical visionaries, it will be necessary to resume the history of the hermetic folly where we left off in the former chapter, and trace the gradual change that stole over the dreams of the adepts. it will be seen that the infatuation increased rather than diminished as the world grew older. augurello. among the alchymists who were born in the fifteenth, and distinguished themselves in the sixteenth century, the first, in point of date, is john aurelio augurello. he was born at rimini in , and became professor of the belles lettres at venice and trevisa. he was early convinced of the truth of the hermetic science, and used to pray to god that he might be happy enough to discover the philosopher's stone. he was continually surrounded by the paraphernalia of chemistry, and expended all his wealth in the purchase of drugs and metals. he was also a poet, but of less merit than pretensions. his "chrysopeia," in which lie pretended to teach the art of making gold, he dedicated to pope leo x, in the hope that the pontiff would reward him handsomely for the compliment; but the pope was too good a judge of poetry to be pleased with the worse than mediocrity of his poem, and too good a philosopher to approve of the strange doctrines which it inculcated: he was, therefore, far from gratified at the dedication. it is said, that when augurello applied to him for a reward, the pope, with great ceremony and much apparent kindness and cordiality, drew an empty purse from his pocket, and presented it to the alchymist, saying, that since he was able to make gold, the most appropriate present that could be made him, was a purse to put it in. this scurvy reward was all that the poor alchymist ever got either for his poetry or his alchymy. he died in a state of extreme poverty, in the eighty-third year of his age. cornelius agrippa. this alchymist has left a more distinguished reputation. the most extraordinary tales were told and believed of his powers. he could turn iron into gold by his mere word. all the spirits of the air, and demons of the earth, were under his command, and bound to obey him in everything. he could raise from the dead the forms of the great men of other days, and make them appear "in their habit as they lived," to the gaze of the curious who had courage enough to abide their presence. he was born at cologne in , and began, at an early age, the study of chemistry and philosophy. by some means or other which have never been very clearly explained, he managed to impress his contemporaries with a great idea of his wonderful attainments. at the early age of twenty, so great was his reputation as an alchymist, that the principal adepts of paris wrote to cologne, inviting him to settle in france, and aid them with his experience in discovering the philosopher's stone. honours poured upon him in thick succession; and he was highly esteemed by all the learned men of his time. melancthon speaks of him with respect and commendation. erasmus also bears testimony in his favour; and the general voice of his age proclaimed him a light of literature and an ornament to philosophy. some men, by dint of excessive egotism, manage to persuade their contemporaries that they are very great men indeed: they publish their acquirements so loudly in people's ears, and keep up their own praises so incessantly, that the world's applause is actually taken by storm. such seems to have been the case with agrippa. he called himself a sublime theologian, an excellent jurisconsult, an able physician, a great philosopher, and a successful alchymist. the world, at last, took him at his word; and thought that a man who talked so big, must have some merit to recommend him--that it was, indeed, a great trumpet which sounded so obstreperous a blast. he was made secretary to the emperor maximilian, who conferred upon him the title of chevalier, and gave him the honorary command of a regiment. he afterwards became professor of hebrew and the belles lettres, at the university of dole, in france; but quarrelling with the franciscan monks upon some knotty point of divinity, he was obliged to quit the town. he took refuge in london, where he taught hebrew and cast nativities, for about a year. from london he proceeded to pavia, and gave lectures upon the writings, real or supposed, of hermes trismegistus; and might have lived there in peace and honour, had he not again quarrelled with the clergy. by their means his position became so disagreeable, that he was glad to accept an offer made him by the magistracy of metz, to become their syndic and advocate-general. here, again, his love of disputation made him enemies: the theological wiseacres of that city asserted, that st. anne had three husbands, in which opinion they were confirmed by the popular belief of the day. agrippa needlessly ran foul of this opinion, or prejudice as he called it, and thereby lost much of his influence. another dispute, more creditable to his character, occurred soon after, and sank him for ever in the estimation of the metzians. humanely taking the part of a young girl who was accused of witchcraft, his enemies asserted, that he was himself a sorcerer, and raised such a storm over his head, that he was forced to fly the city. after this, he became physician to louisa de savoy, mother of king francis i. this lady was curious to know the future, and required her physician to cast her nativity. agrippa replied, that he would not encourage such idle curiosity. the result was, he lost her confidence, and was forthwith dismissed. if it had been through his belief in the worthlessness of astrology, that he had made his answer, we might admire his honest and fearless independence; but, when it is known that, at the very same time, he was in the constant habit of divination and fortunetelling; and that he was predicting splendid success, in all his undertakings, to the constable of bourbon, we can only wonder at his thus estranging a powerful friend through mere petulance and perversity. he was, about this time, invited both by henry viii. of england, and margaret of austria, governess of the low countries, to fix his residence in their dominions. he chose the service of the latter, by whose influence he was made historiographer to the emperor charles v. unfortunately for agrippa, he never had stability enough to remain long in one position, and offended his patrons by his restlessness and presumption. after the death of margaret, he was imprisoned at brussels, on a charge of sorcery. he was released after a year; and, quitting the country, experienced many vicissitudes. he died in great poverty in , aged forty-eight years. while in the service of margaret of austria, he resided principally at louvain, in which city he wrote his famous work on the vanity and nothingness of human knowledge. he also wrote, to please his royal mistress, a treatise upon the superiority of the female sex, which he dedicated to her, in token of his gratitude for the favours she had heaped upon him. the reputation he left behind him in these provinces was anything but favourable. a great number of the marvellous tales that are told of him, relate to this period of his life. it was said, that the gold which he paid to the traders with whom he dealt, always looked remarkably bright, but invariably turned into pieces of slate and stone in the course of four-and-twenty hours. of this spurious gold he was believed to have made large quantities by the aid of the devil, who, it would appear from this, had but a very superficial knowledge of alchymy, and much less than the marechal de rays gave him credit for. the jesuit delrio, in his book on magic and sorcery, relates a still more extraordinary story of him. one day, agrippa left his house, at louvain; and, intending to be absent for some time, gave the key of his study to his wife, with strict orders that no one should enter it during his absence. the lady herself, strange as it may appear, had no curiosity to pry into her husband's secrets, and never once thought of entering the forbidden room: but a young student, who had been accommodated with an attic in the philosopher's house, burned with a fierce desire to examine the study; hoping, perchance, that he might purloin some book or implement which would instruct him in the art of transmuting metals. the youth, being handsome, eloquent, and, above all, highly complimentary to the charms of the lady, she was persuaded, without much difficulty, to lend him the key, but gave him strict orders not to remove anything. the student promised implicit obedience, and entered agrippa's study. the first object that caught his attention, was a large grimoire, or book of spells, which lay open on the philosopher's desk. he sat himself down immediately, and began to read. at the first word he uttered, he fancied he heard a knock at the door. he listened; but all was silent. thinking that his imagination had deceived him, he read on, when immediately a louder knock was heard, which so terrified him, that he started to his feet. he tried to say, "come in;" but his tongue refused its office, and he could not articulate a sound. he fixed his eyes upon the door, which, slowly opening, disclosed a stranger of majestic form, but scowling features, who demanded sternly, why he was summoned? "i did not summon you," said the trembling student. "you did!" said the stranger, advancing, angrily; "and the demons are not to be invoked in vain." the student could make no reply; and the demon, enraged that one of the uninitiated should have summoned him out of mere presumption, seized him by the throat and strangled him. when agrippa returned, a few days afterwards, he found his house beset with devils. some of them were sitting on the chimneypots, kicking up their legs in the air; while others were playing at leapfrog, on the very edge of the parapet. his study was so filled with them that he found it difficult to make his way to his desk. when, at last, he had elbowed his way through them, he found his book open, and the student lying dead upon the floor. he saw immediately how the mischief had been done; and, dismissing all the inferior imps, asked the principal demon how he could have been so rash as to kill the young man. the demon replied, that he had been needlessly invoked by an insulting youth, and could do no less than kill him for his presumption. agrippa reprimanded him severely, and ordered him immediately to reanimate the dead body, and walk about with it in the market-place for the whole of the afternoon. the demon did so: the student revived; and, putting his arm through that of his unearthly murderer, walked very lovingly with him, in sight of all the people. at sunset, the body fell down again, cold and lifeless as before, and was carried by the crowd to the hospital, it being the general opinion that he had expired in a fit of apoplexy. his conductor immediately disappeared. when the body was examined, marks of strangulation were found on the neck, and prints of the long claws of the demon on various parts of it. these appearances, together with a story, which soon obtained currency, that the companion of the young man had vanished in a cloud of flame and smoke, opened people's eyes to the truth. the magistrates of louvain instituted inquiries; and the result was, that agrippa was obliged to quit the town. other authors besides delrio relate similar stories of this philosopher. the world in those days was always willing enough to believe in tales of magic and sorcery; and when, as in agrippa's case, the alleged magician gave himself out for such, and claimed credit for the wonders he worked, it is not surprising that the age should have allowed his pretensions. it was dangerous boasting, which sometimes led to the stake or the gallows, and therefore was thought to be not without foundation. paulus jovius, in his "eulogia doctorum virorum," says, that the devil, in the shape of a large black dog, attended agrippa wherever he went. thomas nash, in his adventures of jack wilton, relates, that at the request of lord surrey, erasmus, and some other learned men, agrippa called up from the grave many of the great philosophers of antiquity; among others, tully, whom he caused to re-deliver his celebrated oration for roscius. he also showed lord surrey, when in germany, an exact resemblance in a glass of his mistress the fair geraldine. she was represented on her couch weeping for the absence of her lover. lord surrey made a note of the exact time at which he saw this vision, and ascertained afterwards that his mistress was actually so employed at the very minute. to thomas lord cromwell, agrippa represented king henry viii. hunting in windsor park, with the principal lords of his court; and to please the emperor charles v. he summoned king david and king solomon from the tomb. naude, in his "apology for the great men who have been falsely suspected of magic," takes a great deal of pains to clear agrippa from the imputations cast upon him by delrio, paulus jovius, and other such ignorant and prejudiced scribblers. such stories demanded refutation in the days of naude, but they may now be safely left to decay in their own absurdity. that they should have attached, however, to the memory of a man, who claimed the power of making iron obey him when he told it to become gold, and who wrote such a work as that upon magic, which goes by his name, is not at all surprising. paracelsus. this philosopher, called by naude, "the zenith and rising sun of all the alchymists," was born at einsiedeln, near zurich, in the year . his true name was hohenheim; to which, as he himself informs us, were prefixed the baptismal names of aureolus theophrastus bombastes paracelsus. the last of these he chose for his common designation while he was yet a boy; and rendered it, before he died, one of the most famous in the annals of his time. his father, who was a physician, educated his son for the same pursuit. the latter was an apt scholar, and made great progress. by chance the work of isaac hollandus fell into his hands, and from that time he became smitten with the mania of the philosopher's stone. all his thoughts henceforth were devoted to metallurgy; and he travelled into sweden that he might visit the mines of that country, and examine the ores while they yet lay in the bowels of the earth. he also visited trithemius at the monastery of spannheim, and obtained instructions from him in the science of alchymy. continuing his travels, he proceeded through prussia and austria into turkey, egypt, and tatary, and thence returning to constantinople, learned, as he boasted, the art of transmutation, and became possessed of the elixir vitae. he then established himself as a physician in his native switzerland at zurich, and commenced writing works upon alchymy and medicine, which immediately fixed the attention of europe. their great obscurity was no impediment to their fame; for the less the author was understood, the more the demonologists, fanatics, and philosopher's-stone-hunters seemed to appreciate him. his fame as a physician kept pace with that which he enjoyed as an alchymist, owing to his having effected some happy cures by means of mercury and opium; drugs unceremoniously condemned by his professional brethren. in the year , he was chosen professor of physics and natural philosophy in the university of basle, where his lectures attracted vast numbers of students. he denounced the writings of all former physicians as tending to mislead; and publicly burned the works of galen and avicenna, as quacks and impostors. he exclaimed, in presence of the admiring and half-bewildered crowd, who assembled to witness the ceremony, that there was more knowledge in his shoestrings than in the writings of these physicians. continuing in the same strain, he said all the universities in the world were full of ignorant quacks; but that he, paracelsus, over flowed with wisdom. "you will all follow my new system," said he, with furious gesticulations, "avicenna, galen, rhazis, montagnana, meme--you will all follow me, ye professors of paris, montpellier, germany, cologne, and vienna! and all ye that dwell on the rhine and the danube--ye that inhabit the isles of the sea; and ye also, italians, dalmatians, athenians, arabians, jews--ye will all follow my doctrines, for i am the monarch of medicine!" but he did not long enjoy the esteem of the good citizens of basle. it is said that he indulged in wine so freely, as not unfrequently to be seen in the streets in a state of intoxication. this was ruinous for a physician, and his good fame decreased rapidly. his ill fame increased in still greater proportion, especially when he assumed the airs of a sorcerer. he boasted of the legions of spirits at his command; and of one especially, which he kept imprisoned in the hilt of his sword. wetterus, who lived twenty-seven months in his service, relates that he often threatened to invoke a whole army of demons, and show him the great authority which he could exercise over them. he let it be believed, that the spirit in his sword had custody of the elixir of life, by means of which he could make any one live to be as old as the antediluvians. he also boasted that he had a spirit at his command, called "azoth," whom he kept imprisoned in a jewel; and in many of the old portraits he is represented with a jewel, inscribed with the word "azoth," in his hand. if a sober prophet has little honour in his own country, a drunken one has still less. paracelsus found it at last convenient to quit basle, and establish himself at strasbourg. the immediate cause of this change of residence was as follows:--a citizen lay at the point of death, and was given over by all the physicians of the town. as a last resource paracelsus was called in, to whom the sick man promised a magnificent recompence, if by his means he were cured. paracelsus gave him two small pills, which the man took and rapidly recovered. when he was quite well, paracelsus sent for his fee; but the citizen had no great opinion of the value of a cure which had been so speedily effected. he had no notion of paying a handful of gold for two pills, although they had saved his life, and he refused to pay more than the usual fee for a single visit. paracelsus brought an action against him, and lost it. this result so exasperated him, that he left basle in high dudgeon. he resumed his wandering life, and travelled in germany and hungary, supporting himself as he went on the credulity and infatuation of all classes of society. he cast nativities--told fortunes--aided those who had money to throw away upon the experiment, to find the philosopher's stone--prescribed remedies for cows and pigs, and aided in the recovery of stolen goods. after residing successively at nuremburg, augsburg, vienna, and mindelheim, he retired in the year to saltzbourg, and died in a state of abject poverty in the hospital of that town. if this strange charlatan found hundreds of admirers during his life, he found thousands after his death. a sect of paracelsists sprang up in france and germany, to perpetuate the extravagant doctrines of their founder upon all the sciences, and upon alchymy in particular. the chief leaders were bodenstein and dorneus. the following is a summary of his doctrine, founded upon supposed existence of the philosopher's stone; it is worth preserving from its very absurdity, and altogether unparalleled in the history of philosophy:-- first of all, he maintained that the contemplation of the perfection of the deity sufficed to procure all wisdom and knowledge; that the bible was the key to the theory of all diseases, and that it was necessary to search into the apocalypse to know the signification of magic medicine. the man who blindly obeyed the will of god, and who succeeded in identifying himself with the celestial intelligences, possessed the philosopher's stone--he could cure all diseases, and prolong life to as many centuries as he pleased; it being by the very same means that adam and the antediluvian patriarchs prolonged theirs. life was an emanation from the stars--the sun governed the heart, and the moon the brain. jupiter governed the liver, saturn the gall, mercury the lungs, mars the bile, and venus the loins. in the stomach of every human being there dwelt a demon, or intelligence, that was a sort of alchymist in his way, and mixed, in their due proportions, in his crucible, the various aliments that were sent into that grand laboratory the belly.[see the article "paracelsus," by the learned renaudin, in the "biographie universelle."] he was proud of the title of magician, and boasted that he kept up a regular correspondence with galen from hell; and that he often summoned avicenna from the same regions to dispute with him on the false notions he had promulgated respecting alchymy, and especially regarding potable gold and the elixir of life. he imagined that gold could cure ossification of the heart, and, in fact, all diseases, if it were gold which had been transmuted from an inferior metal by means of the philosopher's stone, and if it were applied under certain conjunctions of the planets. the mere list of the works in which he advances these frantic imaginings, which he called a doctrine, would occupy several pages. george agricola. this alchymist was born in the province of misnia, in . his real name was bauer, meaning a husbandman, which, in accordance with the common fashion of his age, he latinized into agricola. from his early youth, he delighted in the visions of the hermetic science. ere he was sixteen, he longed for the great elixir which was to make him live for seven hundred years, and for the stone which was to procure him wealth to cheer him in his multiplicity of days. he published a small treatise upon the subject at cologne, in , which obtained him the patronage of the celebrated maurice, duke of saxony. after practising for some years as a physician at joachimsthal, in bohemia, he was employed by maurice as superintendent of the silver mines of chemnitz. he led a happy life among the miners, making various experiments in alchymy while deep in the bowels of the earth. he acquired a great knowledge of metals, and gradually got rid of his extravagant notions about the philosopher's stone. the miners had no faith in alchymy; and they converted him to their way of thinking, not only in that but in other respects. from their legends, he became firmly convinced that the bowels of the earth were inhabited by good and evil spirits, and that firedamp and other explosions sprang from no other causes than the mischievous propensities of the latter. he died in the year , leaving behind him the reputation of a very able and intelligent man. denis zachaire. autobiography, written by a wise man who was once a fool, is not only the most instructive, but the most delightful of reading. denis zachaire, an alchymist of the sixteenth century, has performed this task, and left a record of his folly and infatuation in pursuit of the philosopher's stone, which well repays perusal. he was born in the year , of an ancient family in guienne, and was early sent to the university of bordeaux, under the care of a tutor to direct his studies. unfortunately, his tutor was a searcher for the grand elixir, and soon rendered his pupil as mad as himself upon the subject. with this introduction, we will allow denis zachaire to speak for himself, and continue his narrative in his own words:-- "i received from home," says he, "the sum of two hundred crowns for the expenses of myself and master; but before the end of the year, all our money went away in the smoke of our furnaces. my master, at the same time, died of a fever, brought on by the parching heat of our laboratory, from which he seldom or never stirred, and which was scarcely less hot than the arsenal of venice. his death was the more unfortunate for me, as my parents took the opportunity of reducing my allowance, and sending me only sufficient for my board and lodging, instead of the sum i required to continue my operations in alchymy. "to meet this difficulty and get out of leading-strings, i returned home at the age of twenty-five, and mortgaged part of my property for four hundred crowns. this sum was necessary to perform an operation of the science, which had been communicated to me by an italian at toulouse, and who, as he said, had proved its efficacy. i retained this man in my service, that we might see the end of the experiment. i then, by means of strong distillations, tried to calcinate gold and silver; but all my labour was in vain. the weight of the gold i drew out of my furnace was diminished by one-half since i put it in, and my four hundred crowns were very soon reduced to two hundred and thirty. i gave twenty of these to my italian, in order that he might travel to milan, where the author of the receipt resided, and ask him the explanation of some passages which we thought obscure. i remained at toulouse all the winter, in the hope of his return; but i might have remained there till this day if i had waited for him, for i never saw his face again. "in the succeeding summer there was a great plague, which forced me to quit the town. i did not, however, lose sight of my work. i went to cahors, where i remained six months, and made the acquaintance of an old man, who was commonly known to the people as 'the philosopher;' a name which, in country places, is often bestowed upon people whose only merit is, that they are less ignorant than their neighbours. i showed him my collection of alchymical receipts, and asked his opinion upon them. he picked out ten or twelve of them, merely saying that they were better than the others. when the plague ceased, i returned to toulouse, and recommenced my experiments in search of the stone. i worked to such effect that my four hundred crowns were reduced to one hundred and seventy. "that i might continue my work on a safer method, i made acquaintance, in , with a certain abbe, who resided in the neighbourhood. he was smitten with the same mania as myself, and told me that one of his friends, who had followed to rome in the retinue of the cardinal d'armagnac, had sent him from that city a new receipt, which could not fail to transmute iron and copper, but which would cost two hundred crowns. i provided half this money, and the abbe the rest; and we began to operate at our joint expense. as we required spirits of wine for our experiment, i bought a tun of excellent vin de gaillac. i extracted the spirit, and rectified it several times. we took a quantity of this, into which we put four marks of silver, and one of gold, that had been undergoing the process of calcination for a month. we put this mixture cleverly into a sort of horn-shaped vessel, with another to serve as a retort; and placed the whole apparatus upon our furnace, to produce congelation. this experiment lasted a year; but, not to remain idle, we amused ourselves with many other less important operations. we drew quite as much profit from these as from our great work. "the whole of the year passed over without producing any change whatever: in fact, we might have waited till doomsday for the congelation of our spirits of wine. however, we made a projection with it upon some heated quicksilver; but all was in vain. judge of our chagrin, especially of that of the abbe, who had already boasted to all the monks of his monastery, that they had only to bring the large pump which stood in a corner of the cloister, and he would convert it into gold; but this ill luck did not prevent us from persevering. i once more mortgaged my paternal lands for four hundred crowns, the whole of which i determined to devote to a renewal of my search for the great secret. the abbe contributed the same sum; and, with these eight hundred crowns, i proceeded to paris, a city more abounding with alchymists than any other in the world, resolved never to leave it until i had either found the philosopher's stone, or spent all my money. this journey gave the greatest offence to all my relations and friends, who, imagining that i was fitted to be a great lawyer, were anxious that i should establish myself in that profession. for the sake of quietness, i pretended, at last, that such was my object. "after travelling for fifteen days, i arrived in paris, on the th of january . i remained for a month, almost unknown; but i had no sooner begun to frequent the amateurs of the science, and visited the shops of the furnace-makers, than i had the acquaintance of more than a hundred operative alchymists, each of whom had a different theory and a different mode of working. some of them preferred cementation; others sought the universal alkahest, or dissolvent; and some of them boasted the great efficacy of the essence of emery. some of them endeavoured to extract mercury from other metals to fix it afterwards; and, in order that each of us should be thoroughly acquainted with the proceedings of the others, we agreed to meet somewhere every night, and report progress. we met sometimes at the house of one, and sometimes in the garret of another; not only on week days, but on sundays, and the great festivals of the church. 'ah!' one used to say, 'if i had the means of recommencing this experiment, i should do something.' 'yes,' said another, 'if my crucible had not cracked, i should have succeeded before now:' while a third exclaimed, with a sigh, 'if i had but had a round copper vessel of sufficient strength, i would have fixed mercury with silver.' there was not one among them who had not some excuse for his failure; but i was deaf to all their speeches. i did not want to part with my money to any of them, remembering how often i had been the dupe of such promises. "a greek at last presented himself; and with him i worked a long time uselessly upon nails, made of cinabar, or vermilion. i was also acquainted with a foreign gentleman newly arrived in paris, and often accompanied him to the shops of the goldsmiths, to sell pieces of gold and silver, the produce, as he said, of his experiments. i stuck closely to him for a long time, in the hope that he would impart his secret. he refused for a long time, but acceded, at last, on my earnest entreaty, and i found that it was nothing more than an ingenious trick. i did not fail to inform my friend, the abbe, whom i had left at toulouse, of all my adventures; and sent him, among other matters, a relation of the trick by which this gentleman pretended to turn lead into gold. the abbe still imagined that i should succeed at last, and advised me to remain another year in paris, where i had made so good a beginning. i remained there three years; but, notwithstanding all my efforts, i had no more success than i had had elsewhere. "i had just got to the end of my money, when i received a letter from the abbe, telling me to leave everything, and join him immediately at toulouse. i went accordingly, and found that he had received letters from the king of navarre (grandfather of henry iv). this prince was a great lover of philosophy, full of curiosity, and had written to the abbe, that i should visit him at pau; and that he would give me three or four thousand crowns, if i would communicate the secret i had learned from the foreign gentleman. the abbe's ears were so tickled with the four thousand crowns, that he let me have no peace, night or day, until he had fairly seen me on the road to pau. i arrived at that place in the month of may . i worked away, and succeeded, according to the receipt i had obtained. when i had finished, to the satisfaction of the king, he gave me the reward that i expected. although he was willing enough to do me further service, he was dissuaded from it by the lords of his court; even by many of those who had been most anxious that i should come. he sent me then about my business, with many thanks; saying, that if there was anything in his kingdom which he could give me--such as the produce of confiscations, or the like--he should be most happy. i thought i might stay long enough for these prospective confiscations, and never get them at last; and i therefore determined to go back to my friend, the abbe. "i learned, that on the road between pau and toulouse, there resided a monk, who was very skilful in all matters of natural philosophy. on my return, i paid him a visit. he pitied me very much, and advised me, with much warmth and kindness of expression, not to amuse myself any longer with such experiments as these, which were all false and sophistical; but that i should read the good books of the old philosophers, where i might not only find the true matter of the science of alchymy, but learn also the exact order of operations which ought to be followed. i very much approved of this wise advice; but, before i acted upon it, i went back to my abbe, of toulouse, to give him an account of the eight hundred crowns, which we had had in common; and, at the same time, share with him such reward as i had received from the king of navarre. if he was little satisfied with the relation of my adventures since our first separation, he appeared still less satisfied when i told him i had formed a resolution to renounce the search for the philosopher's stone. the reason was, that he thought me a good artist. of our eight hundred crowns, there remained but one hundred and seventy-six. when i quitted the abbe, i went to my own house, with the intention of remaining there, till i had read all the old philosophers, and of then proceeding to paris. "i arrived in paris on the day after all saints, of the year , and devoted another year to the assiduous study of great authors. among others, the 'turba philosophorum' of the 'good trevisan,' 'the remonstance of nature to the wandering alchymist,' by jean de meung; and several others of the best books: but, as i had no right' principles, i did not well know what course to follow. "at last i left my solitude; not to see my former acquaintances, the adepts and operators, but to frequent the society of true philosophers. among them i fell into still greater uncertainties; being, in fact, completely bewildered by the variety of operations which they showed me. spurred on, nevertheless, by a sort of frenzy or inspiration, i threw myself into the works of raymond lulli and of arnold de villeneuve. the reading of these, and the reflections i made upon them, occupied me for another year, when i finally determined on the course i should adopt. i was obliged to wait, however, until i had mortgaged another very considerable portion of my patrimony. this business was not settled until the beginning of lent, , when i commenced my operations. i laid in a stock of all that was necessary, and began to work the day after easter. it was not, however, without some disquietude and opposition from my friends who came about me; one asking me what i was going to do, and whether i had not already spent money enough upon such follies. another assured me that, if i bought so much charcoal, i should strengthen the suspicion already existing, that i was a coiner of base money. another advised me to purchase some place in the magistracy, as i was already a doctor of laws. my relations spoke in terms still more annoying to me, and even threatened that, if i continued to make such a fool of myself, they would send a posse of police-officers into my house, and break all my furnaces and crucibles into atoms. i was wearied almost to death by this continued persecution; but i found comfort in my work and in the progress of my experiment, to which i was very attentive, and which went on bravely from day to day. about this time, there was a dreadful plague in paris, which interrupted all intercourse between man and man, and left me as much to myself as i could desire. i soon had the satisfaction to remark the progress and succession of the three colours which, according to the philosophers, always prognosticate the approaching perfection of the work. i observed them distinctly, one after the other; and next year, being easter sunday, , i made the great trial. some common quicksilver, which i put into a small crucible on the fire, was, in less than an hour, converted into very good gold. you may judge how great was my joy, but i took care not to boast of it. i returned thanks to god for the favour he had shown me, and prayed that i might only be permitted to make such use of it as would redound to his glory. "on the following day, i went towards toulouse to find the abbe, in accordance with a mutual promise that we should communicate our discoveries to each other. on my way, i called in to see the sage monk who had assisted me with his counsels; but i had the sorrow to learn that they were both dead. after this, i would not return to my own home, but retired to another place, to await one of my relations whom i had left in charge of my estate. i gave him orders to sell all that belonged to me, as well movable as immovable--to pay my debts with the proceeds, and divide all the rest among those in any way related to me who might stand in need of it, in order that they might enjoy some share of the good fortune which had befallen me. there was a great deal of talk in the neighbourhood about my precipitate retreat; the wisest of my acquaintance imagining that, broken down and ruined by my mad expenses, i sold my little remaining property that i might go and hide my shame in distant countries. "my relative already spoken of rejoined me on the st of july, after having performed all the business i had intrusted him with. we took our departure together, to seek a land of liberty. we first retired to lausanne, in switzerland, when, after remaining there for some time, we resolved to pass the remainder of our days in some of the most celebrated cities of germany, living quietly and without splendour." thus ends the story of denis zachaire, as written by himself. he has not been so candid at its conclusion as at its commencement, and has left the world in doubt as to his real motives for pretending that he had discovered the philosopher's stone. it seems probable that the sentence he puts into the months of his wisest acquaintances was the true reason of his retreat; that he was, in fact, reduced to poverty, and hid his shame in foreign countries. nothing further is known of his life, and his real name has never yet been discovered. he wrote a work on alchymy, entitled "the true natural philosophy of metals." dr. dee and edward kelly. john dee and edward kelly claim to be mentioned together, having been so long associated in the same pursuits, and undergone so many strange vicissitudes in each other's society. dee was altogether a wonderful man, and had he lived in an age when folly and superstition were less rife, he would, with the same powers which he enjoyed, have left behind him a bright and enduring reputation. he was born in london, in the year , and very early manifested a love for study. at the age of fifteen he was sent to cambridge, and delighted so much in his books, that he passed regularly eighteen hours every day among them. of the other six, he devoted four to sleep and two for refreshment. such intense application did not injure his health, and could not fail to make him one of the first scholars of his time. unfortunately, however, he quitted the mathematics and the pursuits of true philosophy to indulge in the unprofitable reveries of the occult sciences. he studied alchymy, astrology, and magic, and thereby rendered himself obnoxious to the authorities at cambridge. to avoid persecution, he was at last obliged to retire to the university of louvain; the rumours of sorcery that were current respecting him rendering his longer stay in england not altogether without danger. he found at louvain many kindred spirits who had known cornelius agrippa while he resided among them, and by whom he was constantly entertained with the wondrous deeds of that great master of the hermetic mysteries. from their conversation he received much encouragement to continue the search for the philosopher's stone, which soon began to occupy nearly all his thoughts. he did not long remain on the continent, but returned to england in , being at that time in the twenty-fourth year of his age. by the influence of his friend, sir john cheek, he was kindly received at the court of king edward vi, and rewarded (it is difficult to say for what) with a pension of one hundred crowns. he continued for several years to practise in london as an astrologer; casting nativities, telling fortunes, and pointing out lucky and unlucky days. during the reign of queen mary he got into trouble, being suspected of heresy, and charged with attempting mary's life by means of enchantments. he was tried for the latter offence, and acquitted; but was retained in prison on the former charge, and left to the tender mercies of bishop bonner. he had a very narrow escape from being burned in smithfield, but he, somehow or other, contrived to persuade that fierce bigot that his orthodoxy was unimpeachable, and was set at liberty in . on the accession of elizabeth, a brighter day dawned upon him. during her retirement at woodstock, her servants appear to have consulted him as to the time of mary's death, which circumstance, no doubt, first gave rise to the serious charge for which he was brought to trial. they now came to consult him more openly as to the fortunes of their mistress; and robert dudley, the celebrated earl of leicester, was sent by command of the queen herself to know the most auspicious day for her coronation. so great was the favour he enjoyed that, some years afterwards, elizabeth condescended to pay him a visit at his house in mortlake, to view his museum of curiosities, and, when he was ill, sent her own physician to attend upon him. astrology was the means whereby he lived, and he continued to practise it with great assiduity; but his heart was in alchymy. the philosopher's stone and the elixir of life haunted his daily thoughts and his nightly dreams. the talmudic mysteries, which he had also deeply studied, impressed him with the belief, that he might hold converse with spirits and angels, and learn from them all the mysteries of the universe. holding the same idea as the then obscure sect of the rosicrucians, some of whom he had perhaps encountered in his travels in germany, he imagined that, by means of the philosopher's stone, he could summon these kindly spirits at his will. by dint of continually brooding upon the subject, his imagination became so diseased, that he at last persuaded himself that an angel appeared to him, and promised to be his friend and companion as long as he lived. he relates that, one day, in november , while he was engaged in fervent prayer, the window of his museum looking towards the west suddenly glowed with a dazzling light, in the midst of which, in all his glory, stood the great angel uriel. awe and wonder rendered him speechless; but the angel smiling graciously upon him, gave him a crystal, of a convex form, and told him that, whenever he wished to hold converse with the beings of another sphere, he had only to gaze intently upon it, and they would appear in the crystal and unveil to him all the secrets of futurity. [the "crystal" alluded to appears to have been a black stone, or piece of polished coal. the following account of it is given in the supplement to granger's "biographical history."--"the black stone into which dee used to call his spirits was in the collection of the earls of peterborough, from whence it came to lady elizabeth germaine. it was next the property of the late duke of argyle, and is now mr. walpole's. it appears upon examination to be nothing more than a polished piece of cannel coal; but this is what butler means when he says, 'kelly did all his feats upon the devil's looking-glass--a stone.'"] this saying, the angel disappeared. dee found from experience of the crystal that it was necessary that all the faculties of the soul should be concentrated upon it, otherwise the spirits did not appear. he also found that he could never recollect the conversations he had with the angels. he therefore determined to communicate the secret to another person, who might converse with the spirits while he (dee) sat in another part of the room, and took down in writing the revelations which they made. he had at this time in his service, as his assistant, one edward kelly, who, like himself, was crazy upon the subject of the philosopher's stone. there was this difference, however, between them, that, while dee was more of an enthusiast than an impostor, kelly was more of an impostor than an enthusiast. in early life he was a notary, and had the misfortune to lose both his ears for forgery. this mutilation, degrading enough in any man, was destructive to a philosopher; kelly, therefore, lest his wisdom should suffer in the world's opinion, wore a black skull-cap, which, fitting close to his head, and descending over both his cheeks, not only concealed his loss, but gave him a very solemn and oracular appearance. so well did he keep his secret, that even dee, with whom he lived so many years, appears never to have discovered it. kelly, with this character, was just the man to carry on any piece of roguery for his own advantage, or to nurture the delusions of his master for the same purpose. no sooner did dee inform him of the visit he had received from the glorious uriel, than kelly expressed such a fervour of belief that dee's heart glowed with delight. he set about consulting his crystal forthwith, and on the nd of december , the spirits appeared, and held a very extraordinary discourse with kelly, which dee took down in writing. the curious reader may see this farrago of nonsense among the harleian mss. in the british museum. the later consultations were published in a folio volume, in , by dr. meric casaubon, under the title of "a true and faithful relation of what passed between dr. john dee and some spirits; tending, had it succeeded, to a general alteration of most states and kingdoms in the world." [lilly, the astrologer, in his life written by himself, frequently tells of prophecies delivered by the angels in a manner similar to the angels of dr. dee. he says, "the prophecies were not given vocally by the angels, but by inspection of the crystal in types and figures, or by apparition the circular way; where, at some distance, the angels appear, representing by forms, shapes, and creatures what is demanded. it is very rare, yea, even in our days," quoth that wiseacre, "for any operator or master to hear the angels speak articulately: when they do speak, it is like the irish, much in the throat!"] the fame of these wondrous colloquies soon spread over the country, and even reached the continent. dee, at the same time, pretended to be in possession of the elixir vitae, which he stated he had found among the ruins of glastonbury abbey, in somersetshire. people flocked from far and near to his house at mortlake to have their nativities cast, in preference to visiting astrologers of less renown. they also longed to see a man who, according to his own account, would never die. altogether, he carried on a very profitable trade, but spent so much in drugs and metals to work out some peculiar process of transmutation, that he never became rich. about this time there came into england a wealthy polish nobleman, named albert laski, count palatine of siradz. his object was principally, he said, to visit the court of queen elizabeth, the fame of whose glory and magnificence had reached him in distant poland. elizabeth received this flattering stranger with the most splendid hospitality, and appointed her favourite leicester to show him all that was worth seeing in england. he visited all the curiosities of london and westminster, and from thence proceeded to oxford and cambridge, that he might converse with some of the great scholars whose writings shed lustre upon the land of their birth. he was very much disappointed at not finding dr. dee among them, and told the earl of leicester that he would not have gone to oxford if he had known that dee was not there. the earl promised to introduce him to the great alchymist on their return to london, and the pole was satisfied. a few days afterwards, the earl and laski being in the antechamber of the queen, awaiting an audience of her majesty, dr. dee arrived on the same errand, and was introduced to the pole. [albert laski, son of jaroslav, was palatine of siradz, and afterwards of sendomir, and chiefly contributed to the election of henry of valois, the third of france, to the throne of poland, and was one of the delegates who went to france in order to announce to the new monarch his elevation to the sovereignty of poland. after the deposition of henry, albert laski voted for maximilian of austria. in he visited england, when queen elizabeth received him with great distinction. the honours which were shown him during his visit to oxford, by the especial command of the queen, were equal to those rendered to sovereign princes. his extraordinary prodigality rendered his enormous wealth insufficient to defray his expenses, and he therefore became a zealous adept in alchymy, and took from england to poland with him two known alchymists.--count valerian krasinski's "historical sketch of the reformation in poland."] an interesting conversation ensued, which ended by the stranger inviting himself to dine with the astrologer at his house at mortlake. dee returned home in some tribulation, for he found he had not money enough, without pawning his plate, to entertain count laski and his retinue in a manner becoming their dignity. in this emergency he sent off an express to the earl of leicester, stating frankly the embarrassment he laboured under, and praying his good offices in representing the matter to her majesty. elizabeth immediately sent him a present of twenty pounds. on the appointed day, count laski came, attended by a numerous retinue, and expressed such open and warm admiration of the wonderful attainments of his host, that dee turned over, in his own mind, how he could bind irretrievably to his interests a man who seemed so well inclined to become his friend. long acquaintance with kelly had imbued him with all the roguery of that personage; and he resolved to make the pole pay dearly for his dinner. he found out, before many days, that he possessed great estates in his own country, as well as great influence; but that an extravagant disposition had reduced him to temporary embarrassment. he also discovered, that he was a firm believer in the philosopher's stone and the water of life. he was, therefore, just the man upon whom an adventurer might fasten himself. kelly thought so too; and both of them set to work, to weave a web, in the meshes of which they might firmly entangle the rich and credulous stranger. they went very cautiously about it; first throwing out obscure hints of the stone and the elixir; and, finally, of the spirits, by means of whom they could turn over the pages of the book of futurity, and read the awful secrets inscribed therein. laski eagerly implored that he might be admitted to one of their mysterious interviews with uriel and the angels; but they knew human nature too well to accede at once to the request. to the count's entreaties they only replied by hints of the difficulty or impropriety of summoning the spirits in the presence of a stranger; or of one who might, perchance, have no other motive than the gratification of a vain curiosity: but they only meant to whet the edge of his appetite by this delay, and would have been sorry indeed if the count had been discouraged. to show how exclusively the thoughts both of dee and kelly were fixed upon their dupe, at this time, it is only necessary to read the introduction to their first interview with the spirits, related in the volume of dr. casaubon. the entry made by dee, under the date of the th of may , says, that when the spirit appeared to them, "i, [john dee], and e. k. [edward kelly], sat together, conversing of that noble polonian albertus laski, his great honour here with us obtained, and of his great liking among all sorts of the people." no doubt they were discussing how they might make the most of the "noble polonian," and concocting the fine story with which they afterwards excited his curiosity, and drew him firmly within their toils. "suddenly," says dee, as they were thus employed, "there seemed to come out of the oratory, a spiritual creature, like a pretty girl, of seven or nine years of age, attired on her head, with her hair rolled up before, and hanging down behind; with a gown of silk, of changeable red and green, and with a train. she seemed to play up and down, and seemed to go in and out behind the books; and, as she seemed to go between them, the books displaced themselves, and made way for her." with such tales as these they lured on the pole from day to day; and at last persuaded him to be a witness of their mysteries. whether they played off any optical delusions upon him; or whether, by the force of a strong imagination, he deluded himself, does not appear; but certain it is, that he became a complete tool in their hands, and consented to do whatever they wished him. kelly, at these interviews, placed himself at a certain distance from the wondrous crystal, and gazed intently upon it; while dee took his place in corner, ready to set down the prophecies as they were uttered by the spirits. in this manner they prophesied to the pole, that he should become the fortunate possessor of the philosopher's stone; that he should live for centuries, and be chosen king of poland; in which capacity he should gain many great victories over the saracens, and make his name illustrious over all the earth. for this pose it was necessary, however, that laski should leave england, and take them with him, together with their wives and families; that he should treat them all sumptuously, and allow them to want for nothing. laski at once consented; and very shortly afterwards they were all on the road to poland. it took them upwards of four months to reach the count's estates, in the neighbourhood of cracow. in the mean time, they led a pleasant life, and spent money with an unsparing hand. when once established in the count's palace, they commenced the great hermetic operation of transmuting iron into gold. laski provided them with all necessary materials, and aided them himself with his knowledge of alchymy: but, somehow or other, the experiment always failed at the very moment that it ought to have succeeded; and they were obliged to recommence operations on a grander scale. but the hopes of laski were not easily extinguished. already, in idea, the possessor of countless millions, he was not to be cast down for fear of present expenses. he thus continued from day to day, and from month to month, till he was, at last, obliged to sell a portion of his deeply-mortgaged estates, to find aliment for the hungry crucibles of dee and kelly, and the no less hungry stomachs of their wives and families. it was not till ruin stared him in the face, that he awoke from his dream of infatuation--too happy, even then, to find that he had escaped utter beggary. thus restored to his senses, his first thought was how to rid himself of his expensive visiters. not wishing to quarrel with them, he proposed that they should proceed to prague, well furnished with letters of recommendation to the emperor rudolph. our alchymists too plainly saw that nothing more was to be made of the almost destitute count laski. without hesitation, therefore, they accepted the proposal, and set out forthwith to the imperial residence. they had no difficulty, on their arrival at prague, in obtaining an audience of the emperor. they found him willing enough to believe that such a thing as the philosopher's stone existed, and flattered themselves that they had made a favourable impression upon him; but, from some cause or other--perhaps the look of low cunning and quackery upon the face of kelly--the emperor conceived no very high opinion of their abilities. he allowed them, however, to remain for some months at prague, feeding themselves upon the hope that he would employ them: but the more he saw of them, the less he liked them; and, when the pope's nuncio represented to him, that he ought not to countenance such heretic magicians, he gave orders that they should quit his dominions within four-and-twenty hours. it was fortunate for them that so little time was given them; for, had they remained six hours longer, the nuncio had received orders to procure a perpetual dungeon, or the stake, for them. not knowing well where to direct their steps, they resolved to return to cracow, where they had still a few friends; but, by this time, the funds they had drawn from laski were almost exhausted; and they were many days obliged to go dinnerless and supperless. they had great difficulty to keep their poverty a secret from the world; but they managed to bear privation without murmuring, from a conviction that if the fact were known, it would militate very much against their pretensions. nobody would believe that they were possessors of the philosopher's stone, if it were once suspected that they did not know how to procure bread for their subsistence. they still gained a little by casting nativities, and kept starvation at arm's length, till a new dupe, rich enough for their purposes, dropped into their toils, in the shape of a royal personage. having procured an introduction to stephen, king of poland, they predicted to him, that the emperor rudolph would shortly be assassinated, and that the germans would look to poland for his successor. as this prediction was not precise enough to satisfy the king, they tried their crystal again; and a spirit appeared, who told them that the new sovereign of germany would be stephen of poland. stephen was credulous enough to believe them, and was once present when kelly held his mystic conversations with the shadows of his crystal. he also appears to have furnished them with money to carry on their experiments in alchymy: but he grew tired, at last, of their broken promises, and their constant drains upon his pocket; and was on the point of discarding them with disgrace, when they met with another dupe, to whom they eagerly transferred their services. this was count rosenberg, a nobleman of large estates, at trebona, in bohemia. so comfortable did they find themselves in the palace of this munificent patron, that they remained nearly four years with him, faring sumptuously, and having an almost unlimited command of his money. the count was more ambitious than avaricious: he had wealth enough, and did not care for the philosopher's stone on account of the gold, but of the length of days it would bring him. they had their predictions, accordingly, all ready framed to suit his character. they prophesied that he should be chosen king of poland; and promised, moreover, that he should live for five hundred years to enjoy his dignity; provided always, that he found them sufficient money to carry on their experiments. but now, while fortune smiled upon them; while they revelled in the rewards of successful villany, retributive justice came upon them in a shape they had not anticipated. jealousy and mistrust sprang up between the two confederates, and led to such violent and frequent quarrels, that dee was in constant fear of exposure. kelly imagined himself a much greater personage than dee; measuring, most likely, by the standard of impudent roguery; and was displeased that on all occasions, and from all persons, dee received the greater share of honour and consideration. he often threatened to leave dee to shift for himself; and the latter, who had degenerated into the mere tool of his more daring associate, was distressed beyond measure at the prospect of his desertion. his mind was so deeply imbued with superstition, that he believed the rhapsodies of kelly to be, in a great measure, derived from his intercourse with angels; and he knew not where, in the whole world, to look for a man of depth and wisdom enough to succeed him. as their quarrels every day became more and more frequent, dee wrote letters to queen elizabeth, to secure a favourable reception on his return to england; whither he intended to proceed, if kelly forsook him. he also sent her a round piece of silver, which he pretended he had made of a portion of brass cut out of a warming-pan. he afterwards sent her the warming-pan also, that she might convince herself that the piece of silver corresponded exactly with the hole which was cut into the brass. while thus preparing for the worst, his chief desire was to remain in bohemia with count rosenberg, who treated him well, and reposed much confidence in him. neither had kelly any great objection to remain; but a new passion had taken possession of his breast, and he was laying deep schemes to gratify it. his own wife was ill-favoured and ill-natured; dee's was comely and agreeable: and he longed to make an exchange of partners, without exciting the jealousy or shocking the morality of dee. this was a difficult matter; but, to a man like kelly, who was as deficient in rectitude and right feeling as he was full of impudence and ingenuity, the difficulty was not insurmountable. he had also deeply studied the character and the foibles of dee; and he took his measures accordingly. the next time they consulted the spirits, kelly pretended to be shocked at their language, and refused to tell dee what they had said. dee insisted, and was informed that they were henceforth to have their wives in common. dee, a little startled, inquired whether the spirits might not mean that they were to live in common harmony and good-will? kelly tried again, with apparent reluctance, and said the spirits insisted upon the literal interpretation. the poor fanatic, dee, resigned himself to their will; but it suited kelly's purpose to appear coy a little longer. he declared that the spirits must be spirits, not of good, but of evil; and refused to consult them any more. he thereupon took his departure, saying that he would never return. dee, thus left to himself, was in sore trouble and distress of mind. he knew not on whom to fix as the successor to kelly for consulting the spirits; but at last chose his son arthur, a boy of eight years of age. he consecrated him to this service with great ceremony, and impressed upon the child's mind the dignified and awful nature of the duties he was called upon to perform; but the poor boy had neither the imagination, the faith, nor the artifice of kelly. he looked intently upon the crystal, as he was told; but could see nothing and hear nothing. at last, when his eyes ached, he said he could see a vague indistinct shadow; but nothing more. dee was in despair. the deception had been carried on so long, that he was never so happy as when he fancied he was holding converse with superior beings; and he cursed the day that had put estrangement between him and his dear friend kelly. this was exactly what kelly had foreseen; and, when he thought the doctor had grieved sufficiently for his absence, he returned unexpectedly, and entered the room where the little arthur was in vain endeavouring to distinguish something in the crystal. dee, in entering this circumstance in his journal, ascribes this sudden return to a "miraculous fortune," and a "divine fate;" and goes on to record that kelly immediately saw the spirits, which had remained invisible to little arthur. one of these spirits reiterated the previous command, that they should have their wives in common. kelly bowed his head, and submitted; and dee, in all humility, consented to the arrangement. this was the extreme depth of the wretched man's degradation. in this manner they continued to live for three or four months, when, new quarrels breaking out, they separated once more. this time their separation was final. kelly, taking the elixir which he had found in glastonbury abbey, proceeded to prague, forgetful of the abrupt mode in which he had previously been expelled from that city. almost immediately after his arrival, he was seized by order of the emperor rudolph, and thrown into prison. he was released after some months' confinement, and continued for five years to lead a vagabond life in germany, telling fortunes at one place, and pretending to make gold at another. he was a second time thrown into prison, on a charge of heresy and sorcery; and he then resolved, if ever he obtained his liberty, to return to england. he soon discovered that there was no prospect of this, and that his imprisonment was likely to be for life. he twisted his bed-clothes into a rope, one stormy night in february , and let himself down from the window of his dungeon, situated at the top of a very high tower. being a corpulent man, the rope gave way, and he was precipitated to the ground. he broke two of his ribs, and both his legs; and was otherwise so much injured, that he expired a few days afterwards. dee, for a while, had more prosperous fortune. the warming-pan he had sent to queen elizabeth was not without effect. he was rewarded, soon after kelly had left him, with an invitation to return to england. his pride, which had been sorely humbled, sprang up again to its pristine dimensions; and he set out for bohemia with a train of attendants becoming an ambassador. how he procured the money does not appear, unless from the liberality of the rich bohemian rosenberg, or perhaps from his plunder. he travelled with three coaches for himself and family, and three waggons to carry his baggage. each coach had four horses, and the whole train was protected by a guard of four and twenty soldiers. this statement may be doubted; but it is on the authority of dee himself, who made it on oath before the commissioners appointed by elizabeth to inquire into his circumstances. on his arrival in england he had an audience of the queen, who received him kindly as far as words went, and gave orders that he should not be molested in his pursuits of chemistry and philosophy. a man who boasted of the power to turn baser metals into gold, could not, thought elizabeth, be in want of money; and she, therefore, gave him no more substantial marks of her approbation than her countenance and protection. thrown thus unexpectedly upon his own resources, dee began in earnest the search for the philosopher's stone. he worked incessantly among his furnaces, retorts, and crucibles, and almost poisoned himself with deleterious fumes. he also consulted his miraculous crystal; but the spirits appeared not to him. he tried one bartholomew to supply the place of the invaluable kelly; but he being a man of some little probity, and of no imagination at all, the spirits would not hold any communication with him. dee then tried another pretender to philosophy, of the name of hickman; but had no better fortune. the crystal had lost its power since the departure of its great high-priest. from this quarter then dee could get no information on the stone or elixir of the alchymists, and all his efforts to discover them by other means were not only fruitless but expensive. he was soon reduced to great distress, and wrote piteous letters to the queen, praying relief. he represented that, after he left england with count laski, the mob had pillaged his house at mortlake, accusing him of being a necromancer and a wizard; and had broken all his furniture, burned his library, consisting of four thousand rare volumes, and destroyed all the philosophical instruments and curiosities in his museum. for this damage he claimed compensation; and furthermore stated, that, as he had come to england by the queen's command, she ought to pay the expenses of his journey. elizabeth sent him small sums of money at various times; but, dee still continuing his complaints, a commission was appointed to inquire into his circumstances. he finally obtained a small appointment as chancellor of st. paul's cathedral, which he exchanged, in , for the wardenship of the college at manchester. he remained in this capacity till or , when, his strength and intellect beginning to fail him, he was compelled to resign. he retired to his old dwelling at mortlake, in a state not far removed from actual want, supporting himself as a common fortune-teller, and being often obliged to sell or pawn his books to procure a dinner. james i. was often applied to on his behalf, but he refused to do anything for him. it may be said to the discredit of this king, that the only reward he would grant the indefatigable stowe, in his days of old age and want, was the royal permission to beg; but no one will blame him for neglecting such a quack as john dee. he died in , in the eighty-first year of his age, and was buried at mortlake. the cosmopolite. many disputes have arisen as to the real name of the alchymist who wrote several works under the above designation. the general opinion is that he was a scotsman, named seton; and that by a fate very common to alchymists, who boasted too loudly of their powers of transmutation, he ended his days miserably in a dungeon, into which he was thrown by a german potentate until he made a million of gold to pay his ransom. by some he has been confounded with michael sendivog, or sendivogius, a pole, a professor of the same art, who made a great noise in europe at the commencement of the seventeenth century. lenglet du fresnoy, who is in general well-informed with respect to the alchymists, inclines to the belief that these personages were distinct; and gives the following particulars of the cosmopolite, extracted from george morhoff, in his "epistola ad langelottum," and other writers. about the year , one jacob haussen, a dutch pilot, was shipwrecked on the coast of scotland. a gentleman, named alexander seton, put off in a boat, and saved him from drowning, and afterwards entertained him hospitably for many weeks at his house on the shore. haussen saw that he was addicted to the pursuits of chemistry, but no conversation on the subject passed between them at the time. about a year and a half afterwards, haussen being then at home at enkhuysen, in holland, received a visit from his former host. he endeavoured to repay the kindness that had been shown him; and so great a friendship arose between them, that seton, on his departure, offered to make him acquainted with the great secret of the philosopher's stone. in his presence the scotsman transmuted a great quantity of base metal into pure gold, and gave it him as a mark of his esteem. seton then took leave of his friend, and travelled into germany. at dresden he made no secret of his wonderful powers; having, it is said, performed transmutation successfully before a great assemblage of the learned men of that city. the circumstance coming to the ears of the duke or elector of saxony, he gave orders for the arrest of the alchymist. he caused him to be imprisoned in a high tower, and set a guard of forty men to watch that he did not escape, and that no strangers were admitted to his presence. the unfortunate seton received several visits from the elector, who used every art of persuasion to make him divulge his secret. seton obstinately refused either to communicate his secret, or to make any gold for the tyrant; on which he was stretched upon the rack, to see if the argument of torture would render him more tractable. the result was still the same,--neither hope of reward nor fear of anguish could shake him. for several months he remained in prison, subjected alternately to a sedative and a violent regimen, till his health broke, and he wasted away almost to a skeleton. there happened at that time to be in dresden a learned pole, named michael sendivogius, who had wasted a good deal of his time and substance in the unprofitable pursuits of alchymy. he was touched with pity for the hard fate, and admiration for the intrepidity of seton; and determined, if possible, to aid him in escaping from the clutch of his oppressor. he requested the elector's permission to see the alchymist, and obtained it with some difficulty. he found him in a state of great wretchedness,--shut up from the light of day in a noisome dungeon, and with no better couch or fare than those allotted to the worst of criminals. seton listened eagerly to the proposal of escape, and promised the generous pole that he would make him richer than an eastern monarch if by his means he were liberated. sendivogius immediately commenced operations. he sold some property which he possessed near cracow, and with the proceeds led a merry life at dresden. he gave the most elegant suppers, to which he regularly invited the officers of the guard, and especially those who did duty at the prison of the alchymist. he insinuated himself at last into their confidence, and obtained free ingress to his friend as often as he pleased; pretending that he was using his utmost endeavours to conquer his obstinacy and worm his secret out of him. when their project was ripe, a day was fixed upon for the grand attempt; and sendivogius was ready with a postchariot to convey him with all speed into poland. by drugging some wine which he presented to the guards of the prison, he rendered them so drowsy that he easily found means to scale a wall unobserved, with seton, and effect his escape. seton's wife was in the chariot awaiting him, having safely in her possession a small packet of a black powder, which was, in fact, the philosopher's stone, or ingredient for the transmutation of iron and copper into gold. they all arrived in safety at cracow; but the frame of seton was so wasted by torture of body and starvation, to say nothing of the anguish of mind he had endured, that he did not long survive. he died in cracow in or , and was buried under the cathedral church of that city. such is the story related of the author of the various works which bear the name of the cosmopolite. a list of them may be found in the third volume of the "history of the hermetic philosophy." sendivogius. on the death of seton, sendivogius married his widow, hoping to learn from her some of the secrets of her deceased lord in the art of transmutation. the ounce of black powder stood him, however, in better service; for the alchymists say that, by its means, he converted great quantities of quicksilver into the purest gold. it is also said that he performed this experiment successfully before the emperor rudolph ii, at prague; and that the emperor, to commemorate the circumstance, caused a marble tablet to be affixed to the wall of the room in which it was performed, bearing this inscription, "faciat hoc quispiam alius, quod fecit sendivogius polonus." m. desnoyers, secretary to the princess mary of gonzaga, queen of poland, writing from warsaw in , says that he saw this tablet, which existed at that time, and was often visited by the curious. the after-life of sendivogius is related in a latin memoir of him by one brodowski, his steward; and is inserted by pierre borel in his "treasure of gaulish antiquities." the emperor rudolph, according to this authority, was so well pleased with his success, that he made him one of his counsellors of state, and invited him to fill a station in the royal household and inhabit the palace. but sendivogius loved his liberty, and refused to become a courtier. he preferred to reside on his own patrimonial estate of gravarna, where, for many years, he exercised a princely hospitality. his philosophic powder, which, his steward says, was red, and not black, he kept in a little box of gold; and with one grain of it he could make five hundred ducats, or a thousand rix-dollars. he generally made his projection upon quicksilver. when he travelled, he gave this box to his steward, who hung it round his neck by a gold chain next his skin. but the greatest part of the powder he used to hide in a secret place cut into the step of his chariot. he thought that, if attacked at any time by robbers, they would not search such a place as that. when he anticipated any danger, he would dress himself in his valet's clothes, and, mounting the coach-box, put the valet inside. he was induced to take these precautions, because it was no secret that he possessed the philosopher's stone; and many unprincipled adventurers were on the watch for an opportunity to plunder him. a german prince, whose name brodowski has not thought fit to chronicle, served him a scurvy trick, which ever afterwards put him on his guard. this prince went on his knees to sendivogius, and entreated him in the most pressing terms to satisfy his curiosity by converting some quicksilver into gold before him. sendivogius, wearied by his importunity, consented, upon a promise of inviolable secrecy. after his departure, the prince called a german alchymist, named muhlenfels, who resided in his house, and told him all that had been done. muhlenfels entreated that he might have a dozen mounted horsemen at his command, that he might instantly ride after the philosopher, and either rob him of all his powder or force from him the secret of making it. the prince desired nothing better; and muhlenfels, being provided with twelve men well mounted and armed, pursued sendivogius in hot haste. he came up with him at a lonely inn by the road-side, just as he was sitting down to dinner. he at first endeavoured to persuade him to divulge the secret; but, finding this of no avail, he caused his accomplices to strip the unfortunate sendivogius and tie him naked to one of the pillars of the house. he then took from him his golden box, containing a small quantity of the powder; a manuscript book on the philosopher's stone; a golden medal with its chain, presented to him by the emperor rudolph; and a rich cap ornamented with diamonds, of the value of one hundred thousand rix-dollars. with this booty he decamped, leaving sendivogius still naked and firmly bound to the pillar. his servants had been treated in a similar manner; but the people of the inn released them all as soon as the robbers were out of sight. sendivogius proceeded to prague, and made his complaint to the emperor. an express was instantly sent off to the prince, with orders that he should deliver up muhlenfels and all his plunder. the prince, fearful of the emperor's wrath, caused three large gallows to be erected in his court-yard; on the highest of which he hanged muhlenfels, with another thief on each side of him. he thus propitiated the emperor, and got rid of an ugly witness against himself. he sent back, at the same time, the bejewelled hat, the medal and chain, and the treatise upon the philosopher's stone, which had been stolen from sendivogius. as regarded the powder, he said he had not seen it, and knew nothing about it. this adventure made sendivogius more prudent; he would no longer perform the process of transmutation before any strangers, however highly recommended. he pretended, also, to be very poor; and sometimes lay in bed for weeks together, that people might believe he was suffering from some dangerous malady, and could not therefore by any possibility be the owner of the philosopher's stone. he would occasionally coin false money, and pass it off as gold; preferring to be esteemed a cheat rather than a successful alchymist. many other extraordinary tales are told of this personage by his steward brodowski, but they are not worth repeating. he died in , aged upwards of eighty, and was buried in his own chapel at gravarna. several works upon alchymy have been published under his name. the rosicrucians. it was during the time of the last-mentioned author that the sect of the rosicrucians first began to create a sensation in europe. the influence which they exercised upon opinion during their brief career, and the permanent impression which they have left upon european literature, claim for them especial notice. before their time, alchymy was but a grovelling delusion; and theirs is the merit of having spiritualised and refined it. they also enlarged its sphere, and supposed the possession of the philosopher's stone to be, not only the means of wealth, but of health and happiness; and the instrument by which man could command the services of superior beings, control the elements to his will, defy the obstructions of time and space, and acquire the most intimate knowledge of all the secrets of the universe. wild and visionary as they were, they were not without their uses; if it were only for having purged the superstitions of europe of the dark and disgusting forms with which the monks had peopled it, and substituted, in their stead, a race of mild, graceful, and beneficent beings. they are said to have derived their name from christian rosencreutz, or "rose-cross," a german philosopher, who travelled in the holy land towards the close of the fourteenth century. while dangerously ill at a place called damcar, he was visited by some learned arabs, who claimed him as their brother in science, and unfolded to him, by inspiration, all the secrets of his past life, both of thought and of action. they restored him to health by means of the philosopher's stone, and afterwards instructed him in all their mysteries. he returned to europe in , being then only twenty-three years of age; and drew a chosen number of his friends around him, whom he initiated into the new science, and bound by solemn oaths to keep it secret for a century. he is said to have lived eighty-three years after this period, and to have died in . many have denied the existence of such a personage as rosencreutz, and have fixed the origin of this sect at a much later epoch. the first dawning of it, they say, is to be found in the theories of paracelsus, and the dreams of dr. dee, who, without intending it, became the actual, though never the recognised founders of the rosicrucian philosophy. it is now difficult, and indeed impossible, to determine whether dee and paracelsus obtained their ideas from the then obscure and unknown rosicrucians, or whether the rosicrucians did but follow and improve upon them. certain it is, that their existence was never suspected till the year , when they began to excite attention in germany. no sooner were their doctrines promulgated, than all the visionaries, paracelsists, and alchymists, flocked around their standard, and vaunted rosencreutz as the new regenerator of the human race. michael mayer, a celebrated physician of that day, and who had impaired his health and wasted his fortune in searching for the philosopher's stone, drew up a report of the tenets and ordinances of the new fraternity, which was published at cologne, in the year . they asserted, in the first place, "that the meditations of their founders surpassed everything that had ever been imagined since the creation of the world, without even excepting the revelations of the deity; that they were destined to accomplish the general peace and regeneration of man before the end of the world arrived; that they possessed all wisdom and piety in a supreme degree; that they possessed all the graces of nature, and could distribute them among the rest of mankind according to their pleasure; that they were subject to neither hunger, nor thirst, nor disease, nor old age, nor to any other inconvenience of nature; that they knew by inspiration, and at the first glance, every one who was worthy to be admitted into their society; that they had the same knowledge then which they would have possessed if they had lived from the beginning of the world, and had been always acquiring it; that they had a volume in which they could read all that ever was or ever would be written in other books till the end of time; that they could force to, and retain in their service the most powerful spirits and demons; that, by the virtue of their songs, they could attract pearls and precious stones from the depths of the sea or the bowels of the earth; that god had covered them with a thick cloud, by means of which they could shelter themselves from the malignity of their enemies, and that they could thus render themselves invisible from all eyes; that the eight first brethren of the "rose-cross had power to cure all maladies; that, by means of the fraternity, the triple diadem of the pope would be reduced into dust; that they only admitted two sacraments, with the ceremonies of the primitive church, renewed by them; that they recognised the fourth monarchy and the emperor of the romans as their chief and the chief of all christians; that they would provide him with more gold, their treasures being inexhaustible, than the king of spain had ever drawn from the golden regions of eastern and western ind." this was their confession of faith. their rules of conduct were six in number, and as follow:-- first. that, in their travels, they should gratuitously cure all diseases. secondly. that they should always dress in conformity to the fashion of the country in which they resided. thirdly. that they should, once every year, meet together in the place appointed by the fraternity, or send in writing an available excuse. fourthly. that every brother, whenever he felt inclined to die, should choose a person worthy to succeed him. fifthly. that the words "rose-cross" should be the marks by which they should recognise each other. sixthly. that their fraternity should be kept secret for six times twenty years. they asserted that these laws had been found inscribed in a golden book in the tomb of rosencreutz, and that the six times twenty years from his death expired in . they were consequently called upon, from that time forth, to promulgate their doctrine for the welfare of mankind. [the following legend of the tomb of rosencreutz, written by eustace budgell, appears in no. of the spectator:--"a certain person, having occasion to dig somewhat deep in the ground where this philosopher lay interred, met with a small door, having a wall on each side of it. his curiosity, and the hope of finding some hidden treasure, soon prompted him to force open the door. he was immediately surprised by a sudden blaze of light, and discovered a very fair vault. at the upper end of it was a statue of a man in armour, sitting by a table, and leaning on his left arm. he held a truncheon in his right hand, and had a lamp burning before him. the man had no sooner set one foot within the vault, than the statue, erecting itself from its leaning posture, stood bolt upright; and, upon the fellow's advancing another step, lifted up the truncheon in his right hand. the man still ventured a third step; when the statue, with a furious blow, broke the lamp into a thousand pieces, and left his guest in sudden darkness. upon the report of this adventure, the country people came with lights to the sepulchre, and discovered that the statue, which was made of brass, was nothing more than a piece of clock-work; that the floor of the vault was all loose, and underlaid with several springs, which, upon any man's entering, naturally produced that which had happened. rosicreucius, say his disciples, made use of this method to show the world that he had re-invented the ever-burning lamps of the ancients, though he was resolved no one should reap any advantage from the discovery."] for eight years these enthusiasts made converts in germany; but they excited little or no attention in other parts of europe. at last they made their appearance in paris, and threw all the learned, all the credulous, and all the lovers of the marvellous into commotion. in the beginning of march , the good folks of that city, when they arose one morning, were surprised to find all their walls placarded with the following singular manifesto:-- "we, the deputies of the principal college of the brethren of the rose-cross, have taken up our abode, visible and invisible, in this city, by the grace of the most high, towards whom are turned the hearts of the just. we show and teach without books or signs, and speak all sorts of languages in the countries where we dwell, to draw mankind, our fellows, from error and from death." for a long time this strange placard was the sole topic of conversation in all public places. some few wondered; but the greater number only laughed at it. in the course of a few weeks two books were published, which raised the first alarm respecting this mysterious society, whose dwelling-place no one knew, and no members of which had ever been seen. the first was called a history of "the frightful compacts entered into between the devil and the pretended 'invisibles;' with their damnable instructions, the deplorable ruin of their disciples, and their miserable end." the other was called an "examination of the new and unknown cabala of the brethren of the rose-cross, who have lately inhabited the city of paris; with the history of their manners, the wonders worked by them, and many other particulars." these books sold rapidly. every one was anxious to know something of this dreadful and secret brotherhood. the badauds of paris were so alarmed that they daily expected to see the arch-enemy walking in propria persona among them. it was said in these volumes, that the rosicrucian society consisted of six-and-thirty persons in all, who had renounced their baptism and hope of resurrection. that it was not by means of good angels, as they pretended, that they worked their prodigies; but that it was the devil who gave them power to transport themselves from one end of the world to the other with the rapidity of thought; to speak all languages; to have their purses always full of money, however much they might spend; to be invisible, and penetrate into the most secret places, in spite of fastenings of bolts and bars; and to be able to tell the past and future. these thirty-six brethren were divided into bands or companies:-- six of them only had been sent on the mission to paris, six to italy, six to spain, six to germany, four to sweden, and two into switzerland; two into flanders, two into lorraine, and two into franche comte. it was generally believed that the missionaries to france resided somewhere in the marais du temple. that quarter of paris soon acquired a bad name; and people were afraid to take houses in it, lest they should be turned out by the six invisibles of the rose-cross. it was believed by the populace, and by many others whose education should have taught them better, that persons of a mysterious aspect used to visit the inns and hotels of paris, and eat of the best meats and drink of the best wines, and then suddenly melt away into thin air when the landlord came with the reckoning. that gentle maidens, who went to bed alone, often awoke in the night and found men in bed with them, of shape more beautiful than the grecian apollo, who immediately became invisible when an alarm was raised. it was also said that many persons found large heaps of pure gold in their houses, without knowing from whence they came. all paris was in alarm. no man thought himself secure of his goods, no maiden of her virginity, or wife of her chastity, while these rosicrucians were abroad. in the midst of the commotion, a second placard was issued to the following effect:--"if any one desires to see the brethren of the rose-cross from curiosity only, he will never communicate with us. but if his will really induces him to inscribe his name in the register of our brotherhood, we, who can judge of the thoughts of all men, will convince him of the truth of our promises. for this reason we do not publish to the world the place of our abode. thought alone, in unison with the sincere will of those who desire to know us, is sufficient to make us known to them, and them to us." though the existence of such a society as that of the rose-cross was problematical, it was quite evident that somebody or other was concerned in the promulgation of these placards, which were stuck up on every wall in paris. the police endeavoured in vain to find out the offenders, and their want of success only served to increase the perplexity of the public. the church very soon took up the question; and the abbe gaultier, a jesuit, wrote a book to prove that, by their enmity to the pope, they could be no other than disciples of luther, sent to promulgate his heresy. their very name, he added, proved that they were heretics; a cross surmounted by a rose being the heraldic device of the arch-heretic luther. one garasse said they were a confraternity of drunken impostors; and that their name was derived from the garland of roses, in the form of a cross, hung over the tables of taverns in germany as the emblem of secrecy, and from whence was derived the common saying, when one man communicated a secret to another, that it was said "under the rose." others interpreted the letters f. r. c. to mean, not brethren of the rose-cross, but fratres roris cocti, or brothers of boiled dew; and explained this appellation by alleging that they collected large quantities of morning dew, and boiled it, in order to extract a very valuable ingredient in the composition of the philosopher's stone and the water of life. the fraternity thus attacked defended themselves as well as they were able. they denied that they used magic of any kind, or that they consulted the devil. they said they were all happy; that they had lived more than a century, and expected to live many centuries more; and that the intimate knowledge which they possessed of all nature was communicated to them by god himself as a reward for their piety and utter devotion to his service. those were in error who derived their name from a cross of roses, or called them drunkards. to set the world right on the first point, they reiterated that they derived their name from christian rosencreutz, their founder; and, to answer the latter charge, they repeated that they knew not what thirst was, and had higher pleasures than those of the palate. they did not desire to meddle with the politics or religion of any man or set of men, although they could not help denying the supremacy of the pope, and looking upon him as a tyrant. many slanders, they said, had been repeated respecting them; the most unjust of which was, that they indulged in carnal appetites, and, under the cloak of their invisibility, crept into the chambers of beautiful maidens. they asserted, on the contrary, that the first vow they took on entering the society was a vow of chastity; and that any one among them who transgressed in that particular would immediately lose all the advantages he enjoyed, and be exposed once more to hunger, woe, disease, and death, like other men. so strongly did they feel on the subject of chastity, that they attributed the fall of adam solely to his want of this virtue. besides defending themselves in this manner, they entered into a further confession of their faith. they discarded for ever all the old tales of sorcery and witchcraft, and communion with the devil. they said there were no such horrid, unnatural, and disgusting beings as the incubi and succubi, and the innumerable grotesque imps that men had believed in for so many ages. man was not surrounded with enemies like these, but with myriads of beautiful and beneficent beings, all anxious to do him service. the air was peopled with sylphs, the water with undines or naiads, the bowels of the earth with gnomes, and the fire with salamanders. all these beings were the friends of man, and desired nothing so much as that men should purge themselves of all uncleanness, and thus be enabled to see and converse with them. they possessed great power, and were unrestrained by the barriers of space or the obstructions of matter. but man was in one particular their superior. he had an immortal soul, and they had not. they might, however, become sharers in man's immortality, if they could inspire one of that race with the passion of love towards them. hence it was the constant endeavour of the female spirits to captivate the admiration of men; and of the male gnomes, sylphs, salamanders, and undines, to be beloved by a woman. the object of this passion, in returning their love, imparted a portion of that celestial fire the soul; and from that time forth the beloved became equal to the lover, and both, when their allotted course was run, entered together into the mansions of felicity. these spirits, they said, watched constantly over mankind by night and day. dreams, omens, and presentiments were all their works, and the means by which they gave warning of the approach of danger. but, though so well inclined to befriend man for their own sakes, the want of a soul rendered them at times capricious and revengeful: they took offence on slight causes, and heaped injuries instead of benefits on the heads of those who extinguished the light of reason that was in them, by gluttony, debauchery, and other appetites of the body. the excitement produced in paris by the placards of the brotherhood, and the attacks of the clergy, wore itself away after a few months. the stories circulated about them became at last too absurd even for that age of absurdity, and men began to laugh once more at those invisible gentlemen and their fantastic doctrines. gabriel naude at that conjuncture brought out his "avis a la france sur les freres de la rose-croix," in which he very successfully exposed the folly of the new sect. this work, though not well written, was well timed. it quite extinguished the rosicrucians of france; and, after that year, little more was heard of them. swindlers, in different parts of the country, assumed the name at times to cloak their depredations; and now and then one of them was caught, and hanged for his too great ingenuity in enticing pearls and precious stones from the pockets of other people into his own, or for passing off lumps of gilded brass for pure gold, made by the agency of the philosopher's stone. with these exceptions, oblivion shrouded them. the doctrine was not confined to a sphere so narrow as france alone; it still flourished in germany, and drew many converts in england. the latter countries produced two great masters, in the persons of jacob bohmen and robert fludd; pretended philosophers, of whom it is difficult to say which was the more absurd and extravagant. it would appear that the sect was divided into two classes,--the brothers roseae crucis, who devoted themselves to the wonders of this sublunary sphere; and the brothers aureae crucis, who were wholly occupied in the contemplation of things divine. fludd belonged to the first class, and bohmen to the second. fludd may be called the father of the english rosicrucians, and as such merits a conspicuous niche in the temple of folly. he was born in the year , at milgate, in kent; and was the son of sir thomas fludd, treasurer of war to queen elizabeth. he was originally intended for the army; but he was too fond of study, and of a disposition too quiet and retiring to shine in that sphere. his father would not, therefore, press him to adopt a course of life for which he was unsuited, and encouraged him in the study of medicine, for which he early manifested a partiality. at the age of twenty-five he proceeded to the continent; and being fond of the abstruse, the marvellous, and the incomprehensible, he became an ardent disciple of the school of paracelsus, whom he looked upon as the regenerator, not only of medicine, but of philosophy. he remained six years in italy, france, and germany; storing his mind with fantastic notions, and seeking the society of enthusiasts and visionaries. on his return to england, in , he received the degree of doctor of medicine from the university of oxford, and began to practice as a physician in london. he soon made himself conspicuous. he latinized his name from robert fludd into robertus a fluctibus, and began the promulgation of many strange doctrines. he avowed his belief in the philosopher's stone, the water of life, and the universal alkahest; and maintained that there were but two principles of all things,--which were, condensation, the boreal or northern virtue; and rarefaction, the southern or austral virtue. a number of demons, he said, ruled over the human frame, whom he arranged in their places in a rhomboid. every disease had its peculiar demon who produced it, which demon could only be combated by the aid of the demon whose place was directly opposite to his in the rhomboidal figure. of his medical notions we shall have further occasion to speak in another part of this book, when we consider him in his character as one of the first founders of the magnetic delusion, and its offshoot, animal magnetism, which has created so much sensation in our own day. as if the doctrines already mentioned were not wild enough, he joined the rosicrucians as soon as they began to make a sensation in europe, and succeeded in raising himself to high consideration among them. the fraternity having been violently attacked by several german authors, and among others by libavius, fludd volunteered a reply, and published, in , his defence of the rosicrucian philosophy, under the title of the "apologia, compendiaria, fraternitatem de rosea-cruce, suspicionis et infamiae maculis aspersam, abluens." this work immediately procured him great renown upon the continent, and he was henceforth looked upon as one of the high-priests of the sect. of so much importance was he considered, that keppler and gassendi thought it necessary to refute him; and the latter wrote a complete examination of his doctrine. mersenne also, the friend of descartes, and who had defended that philosopher when accused of having joined the rosicrucians, attacked dr. a fluctibus, as he preferred to be called, and showed the absurdity of the brothers of the rose-cross in general, and of dr. a fluctibus in particular. fluctibus wrote a long reply, in which he called mersenne an ignorant calumniator, and reiterated that alchymy was a profitable science, and the rosicrucians worthy to be the regenerators of the world. this book was published at frankfort, and was entitled "summum bonum, quod est magiae, cabalae, alchimiae, fratrum roseae-crucis verorum, et adversus mersenium calumniatorem." besides this, he wrote several other works upon alchymy, a second answer to libavius upon the rosicrucians, and many medical works. he died in london in . after his time there was some diminution of the sect in england. they excited but little attention, and made no effort to bring themselves into notice. occasionally, some obscure and almost incomprehensible work made its appearance, to show the world that the folly was not extinguished. eugenius philalethes, a noted alchymist, who has veiled his real name under this assumed one, translated "the fame and confession of the brethren of the rosie cross," which was published in london in . a few years afterwards, another enthusiast, named john heydon, wrote two works on the subject: the one entitled "the wise man's crown, or the glory of the rosie cross;" and the other, "the holy guide, leading the way to unite art and nature, with the rosie crosse uncovered." neither of these attracted much notice. a third book was somewhat more successful: it was called "a new method of rosicrucian physic; by john heydon, the servant of god and the secretary of nature." a few extracts will show the ideas of the english rosicrucians about this period. its author was an attorney, "practising (to use his own words) at westminster hall all term times as long as he lived, and in the vacations devoting himself to alchymical and rosicrucian meditation." in his preface, called by him an apologue for an epilogue, he enlightens the public upon the true history and tenets of his sect. moses, elias, and ezekiel were, he says, the most ancient masters of the rosicrucian philosophy. those few then existing in england and the rest of europe, were as the eyes and ears of the great king of the universe, seeing and hearing all things; seraphically illuminated; companions of the holy company of unbodied souls and immortal angels; turning themselves, proteus-like, into any shape, and having the power of working miracles. the most pious and abstracted brethren could slack the plague in cities, silence the violent winds and tempests, calm the rage of the sea and rivers, walk in the air, frustrate the malicious aspect of witches, cure all diseases, and turn all metals into gold. he had known in his time two famous brethren of the rosie cross, named walfourd and williams, who had worked miracles in his sight, and taught him many excellent predictions of astrology and earthquakes. "i desired one of these to tell me," says he, "whether my complexion were capable of the society of my good genius. 'when i see you again,' said he, (which was when he pleased to come to me, for i knew not where to go to him,) 'i will tell you.' when i saw him afterwards, he said, 'you should pray to god; for a good and holy man can offer no greater or more acceptable service to god than the oblation of himself--his soul.' he said, also, that the good genii were the benign eyes of god, running to and fro in the world, and with love and pity beholding the innocent endeavours of harmless and single-hearted men, ever ready to do them good and to help them." heydon held devoutly true that dogma of the rosicrucians which said that neither eating nor drinking was necessary to men. he maintained that any one might exist in the same manner as that singular people dwelling near the source of the ganges, of whom mention was made in the travels of his namesake, sir christopher heydon, who had no mouths, and therefore could not eat, but lived by the breath of their nostrils; except when they took a far journey, and then they mended their diet with the smell of flowers. he said that in really pure air "there was a fine foreign fatness," with which it was sprinkled by the sunbeams, and which was quite sufficient for the nourishment of the generality of mankind. those who had enormous appetites he had no objection to see take animal food, since they could not do without it; but he obstinately insisted that there was no necessity why they should eat it. if they put a plaster of nicely-cooked meat upon their epigastrium, it would be sufficient for the wants of the most robust and voracious! they would by that means let in no diseases, as they did at the broad and common gate, the mouth, as any one might see by example of drink; for, all the while a man sat in water, he was never athirst. he had known, he said, many rosicrucians, who, by applying wine in this manner, had fasted for years together. in fact, quoth heydon, we may easily fast all our life, though it be three hundred years, without any kind of meat, and so cut off all danger of disease. this "sage philosopher" further informed his wondering contemporaries that the chiefs of the doctrine always carried about with them to their place of meeting their symbol, called the r.c. which was an ebony cross, flourished and decked with roses of gold; the cross typifying christ's sufferings upon the cross for our sins, and the roses of gold the glory and beauty of his resurrection. this symbol was carried alternately to mecca, mount calvary, mount sinai, haran, and to three other places, which must have been in mid-air, called cascle, apamia, and chaulateau virissa caunuch, where the rosicrucian brethren met when they pleased, and made resolution of all their actions. they always took their pleasures in one of these places, where they resolved all questions of whatsoever had been done, was done, or should be done, in the world, from the beginning to the end thereof. "and these," he concludes, "are the men called rosicrucians." towards the end of the seventeenth century, more rational ideas took possession of the sect, which still continued to boast of a few members. they appear to have considered that contentment was the true philosopher's stone, and to have abandoned the insane search for a mere phantom of the imagination. addison, in "the spectator," [no. . friday, july th, .] gives an account of his conversation with a rosicrucian; from which it may be inferred that the sect had grown wiser in their deeds, though in their talk they were as foolish as ever. "i was once," says he, "engaged in discourse with a rosicrucian about the great secret. he talked of the secret as of a spirit which lived within an emerald, and converted everything that was near it to the highest perfection that it was capable of. 'it gives a lustre,' says he, 'to the sun, and water to the diamond. it irradiates every metal, and enriches lead with all the properties of gold. it heightens smoke into flame, flame into light, and light into glory.' he further added 'that a single ray of it dissipates pain, and care, and melancholy from the person on whom it falls. in short,' says he, 'its presence naturally changes every place into a kind of heaven.' after he had gone on for some time in this unintelligible cant, i found that he jumbled natural and moral ideas together into the same discourse, and that his great secret was nothing else but content." jacob bohmen. it is now time to speak of jacob bohmen, who thought he could discover the secret of the transmutation of metals in the bible, and who invented a strange heterogeneous doctrine of mingled alchymy and religion, and founded upon it the sect of the aurea-crucians. he was born at gorlitz, in upper lusatia, in ; and followed, till his thirtieth year, the occupation of a shoemaker. in this obscurity he remained, with the character of a visionary and a man of unsettled mind, until the promulgation of the rosicrucian philosophy in his part of germany, toward the year or . from that time he began to neglect his leather, and buried his brain under the rubbish of metaphysics. the works of paracelsus fell into his hands; and these, with the reveries of the rosicrucians, so completely engrossed his attention that be abandoned his trade altogether, sinking, at the same time, from a state of comparative independence into poverty and destitution. but he was nothing daunted by the miseries and privations of the flesh; his mind was fixed upon the beings of another sphere, and in thought he was already the new apostle of the human race. in the year , after a meditation of four years, he published his first work, entitled "aurora; or, the rising of the sun;" embodying the ridiculous notions of paracelsus, and worse confounding the confusion of that writer. the philosopher's stone might, he contended, be discovered by a diligent search of the old and new testaments, and more especially of the apocalypse, which alone contained all the secrets of alchymy. he contended that the divine grace operated by the same rules, and followed the same methods, that the divine providence observed in the natural world; and that the minds of men were purged from their vices and corruptions in the very same manner that metals were purified from their dross, namely, by fire. besides the sylphs, gnomes, undines, and salamanders, he acknowledged various ranks and orders of demons. he pretended to invisibility and absolute chastity. he also said that, if it pleased him, he could abstain for years from meat and drink, and all the necessities of the body. it is needless, however, to pursue his follies any further. he was reprimanded for writing this work by the magistrates of gorlitz, and commanded to leave the pen alone and stick to his wax, that his family might not become chargeable to the parish. he neglected this good advice, and continued his studies; burning minerals and purifying metals one day, and mystifying the word of god on the next. he afterwards wrote three other works, as sublimely ridiculous as the first. the one was entitled "metallurgia," and has the slight merit of being the least obscure of his compositions. another was called "the temporal mirror of eternity;" and the last his "theosophy revealed," full of allegories and metaphors, "all strange and geason, devoid of sense and ordinary reason." bohmen died in , leaving behind him a considerable number of admiring disciples. many of them became, during the seventeenth century, as distinguished for absurdity as their master; amongst whom may be mentioned gifftheil, wendenhagen, john jacob zimmermann, and abraham frankenberg. their heresy rendered them obnoxious to the church of rome; and many of them suffered long imprisonment and torture for their faith. one, named kuhlmann, was burned alive at moscow, in , on a charge of sorcery. bohmen's works were translated into english, and published, many years afterwards by an enthusiast, named william law. mormius. peter mormius, a notorious alchymist, and contemporary of bohmen, endeavoured, in , to introduce the rosicrucian philosophy into holland. he applied to the states-general to grant him a public audience, that he might explain the tenets of the sect, and disclose a plan for rendering holland the happiest and richest country on the earth, by means of the philosopher's' stone and the service of the elementary spirits. the states-general wisely resolved to have nothing to do with him. he thereupon determined to shame them by printing his book, which he did at leyden the same year. it was entitled "the book of the most hidden secrets of nature," and was divided into three parts; the first treating of "perpetual motion," the second of the "transmutation of metals," and the third of the "universal medicine." he also published some german works upon the rosicrucian philosophy, at frankfort, in . poetry and romance are deeply indebted to the rosicrucians for many a graceful creation. the literature of england, france, and germany contains hundreds of sweet fictions, whose machinery has been borrowed from their day-dreams. the "delicate ariel" of shakspeare stands pre-eminent among the number. from the same source pope drew the airy tenants of belinda's dressing-room, in his charming "rape of the lock;" and la motte fouque, the beautiful and capricious water-nymph, undine, around whom he has thrown more grace and loveliness, and for whose imaginary woes he has excited more sympathy, than ever were bestowed on a supernatural being. sir walter scott also endowed the white lady of avenel with many of the attributes of the undines, or water-sprites. german romance and lyrical poetry teem with allusions to sylphs, gnomes, undines, and salamanders; and the french have not been behind in substituting them, in works of fiction, for the more cumbrous mythology of greece and rome. the sylphs, more especially, have been the favourites of the bards, and have become so familiar to the popular mind as to be, in a manner, confounded with that other race of ideal beings, the fairies, who can boast of an antiquity much more venerable in the annals of superstition. having these obligations to the rosicrucians, no lover of poetry can wish, however absurd they were, that such a sect of philosophers had never existed. borri. just at the time that michael mayer was making known to the world the existence of such a body as the rosicrucians, there was born in italy a man who was afterwards destined to become the most conspicuous member of the fraternity. the alchymic mania never called forth the ingenuity of a more consummate or more successful impostor than joseph francis borri. he was born in according to some authorities, and in according to others, at milan; where his father, the signor branda borri, practised as a physician. at the age of sixteen, joseph was sent to finish his education at the jesuits' college in rome, where he distinguished himself by his extraordinary memory. he learned everything to which he applied himself with the utmost ease. in the most voluminous works no fact was too minute for his retention, and no study was so abstruse but that he could master it; but any advantages he might have derived from this facility, were neutralized by his ungovernable passions and his love of turmoil and debauchery. he was involved in continual difficulty, as well with the heads of the college as with the police of rome, and acquired so bad a character that years could not remove it. by the aid of his friends he established himself as a physician in rome, and also obtained some situation in the pope's household. in one of his fits of studiousness he grew enamoured of alchymy, and determined to devote his energies to the discovery of the philosopher's stone. of unfortunate propensities he had quite sufficient, besides this, to bring him to poverty. his pleasures were as expensive as his studies, and both were of a nature to destroy his health and ruin his fair fame. at the age of thirty-seven he found that he could not live by the practice of medicine, and began to look about for some other employment. he became, in , private secretary to the marquis di mirogli, the minister of the archduke of innspruk at the court of rome. he continued in this capacity for two years; leading, however, the same abandoned life as heretofore, frequenting the society of gamesters, debauchees, and loose women, involving himself in disgraceful street quarrels, and alienating the patrons who were desirous to befriend him. all at once a sudden change was observed in his conduct. the abandoned rake put on the outward sedateness of a philosopher; the scoffing sinner proclaimed that he had forsaken his evil ways, and would live thenceforth a model of virtue. to his friends this reformation was as pleasing as it was unexpected; and borri gave obscure hints that it had been brought about by some miraculous manifestation of a superior power. he pretended that he held converse with beneficent spirits; that the secrets of god and nature were revealed to him; and that he had obtained possession of the philosopher's stone. like his predecessor, jacob bohmen, he mixed up religious questions with his philosophical jargon, and took measures for declaring himself the founder of a new sect. this, at rome itself, and in the very palace of the pope, was a hazardous proceeding; and borri just awoke to a sense of it in time to save himself from the dungeons of the castle of st. angelo. he fled to innspruck, where he remained about a year, and then returned to his native city of milan. the reputation of his great sanctity had gone before him; and he found many persons ready to attach themselves to his fortunes. all who were desirous of entering into the new communion took an oath of poverty, and relinquished their possessions for the general good of the fraternity. borri told them that he had received from the archangel michael a heavenly sword, upon the hilt of which were engraven the names of the seven celestial intelligences. "whoever shall refuse," said he, "to enter into my new sheepfold, shall be destroyed by the papal armies, of whom god has predestined me to be the chief. to those who follow me, all joy shall be granted. i shall soon bring my chemical studies to a happy conclusion by the discovery of the philosopher's stone, and by this means we shall all have as much gold as we desire. i am assured of the aid of the angelic hosts, and more especially of the archangel michael's. when i began to walk in the way of the spirit, i had a vision of the night, and was assured by an angelic voice that i should become a prophet. in sign of it i saw a palm-tree, surrounded with all the glory of paradise. the angels come to me whenever i call, and reveal to me all the secrets of the universe. the sylphs and elementary spirits obey me, and fly to the uttermost ends of the world to serve me, and those whom i delight to honour." by force of continually repeating such stories as these, borri soon found himself at the head of a very considerable number of adherents. as he figures in these pages as an alchymist, and not as a religious sectarian, it will be unnecessary to repeat the doctrines which he taught with regard to some of the dogmas of the church of rome, and which exposed him to the fierce resentment of the papal authority. they were to the full as ridiculous as his philosophical pretensions. as the number of his followers increased, he appears to have cherished the idea of becoming one day a new mahomet, and of founding, in his native city of milan, a monarchy and religion of which he should be the king and the prophet. he had taken measures, in the year , for seizing the guards at all the gates of that city, and formally declaring himself the monarch of the milanese. just as he thought the plan ripe for execution, it was discovered. twenty of his followers were arrested, and he himself managed, with the utmost difficulty, to escape to the neutral territory of switzerland, where the papal displeasure could not reach him. the trial of his followers commenced forthwith, and the whole of them were sentenced to various terms of imprisonment. borri's trial proceeded in his absence, and lasted for upwards of two years. he was condemned to death as a heretic and sorcerer in , and was burned in effigy in rome by the common hangman. borri, in the mean time, lived quietly in switzerland, indulging himself in railing at the inquisition and its proceedings. he afterwards went to strasbourg, intending to fix his residence in that town. he was received with great cordiality, as a man persecuted for his religious opinions, and withal a great alchymist. he found that sphere too narrow for his aspiring genius, and retired in the same year to the more wealthy city of amsterdam. he there hired a magnificent house, established an equipage which eclipsed in brilliancy those of the richest merchants, and assumed the title of excellency. where he got the money to live in this expensive style was long a secret: the adepts in alchymy easily explained it, after their fashion. sensible people were of opinion that he had come by it in a less wonderful manner; for it was remembered that, among his unfortunate disciples in milan, there were many rich men, who, in conformity with one of the fundamental rules of the sect, had given up all their earthly wealth into the hands of their founder. in whatever manner the money was obtained, borri spent it in holland with an unsparing hand, and was looked up to by the people with no little respect and veneration. he performed several able cures, and increased his reputation so much that he was vaunted as a prodigy. he continued diligently the operations of alchymy, and was in daily expectation that he should succeed in turning the inferior metals into gold. this hope never abandoned him, even in the worst extremity of his fortunes; and in his prosperity it led him into the most foolish expenses: but he could not long continue to live so magnificently upon the funds he had brought from italy; and the philosopher's stone, though it promised all for the wants of the morrow, never brought anything for the necessities of to-day. he was obliged in a few months to retrench, by giving up his large house, his gilded coach, and valuable blood-horses, his liveried domestics, and his luxurious entertainments. with this diminution of splendour came a diminution of renown. his cures did not appear so miraculous, when he went out on foot to perform them, as they had seemed when "his excellency" had driven to a poor man's door in his carriage with six horses. he sank from a prodigy into an ordinary man. his great friends showed him the cold shoulder, and his humble flatterers carried their incense to some other shrine. borri now thought it high time to change his quarters. with this view he borrowed money wherever he could get it, and succeeded in obtaining two hundred thousand florins from a merchant, named de meer, to aid, as he said, in discovering the water of life. he also obtained six diamonds, of great value, on pretence that he could remove the flaws from them without diminishing their weight. with this booty he stole away secretly by night, and proceeded to hamburgh. on his arrival in that city, he found the celebrated christina, the ex-queen of sweden. he procured an introduction to her, and requested her patronage in his endeavour to discover the philosopher's stone. she gave him some encouragement; but borri, fearing that the merchants of amsterdam, who had connexions in hamburgh, might expose his delinquencies if he remained in the latter city, passed over to copenhagen, and sought the protection of frederic iii, the king of denmark. this prince was a firm believer in the transmutation of metals. being in want of money, he readily listened to the plans of an adventurer who had both eloquence and ability to recommend him. he provided borri with the means to make experiments, and took a great interest in the progress of his operations. he expected every month to possess riches that would buy peru; and, when he was disappointed, accepted patiently the excuses of borri who, upon every failure, was always ready with some plausible explanation. he became, in time, much attached to him; and defended him from the jealous attacks of his courtiers, and the indignation of those who were grieved to see their monarch the easy dupe of a charlatan. borri endeavoured, by every means in his power, to find aliment for this good opinion. his knowledge of medicine was useful to him in this respect, and often stood between him and disgrace. he lived six years in this manner at the court of frederic; but that monarch dying in , he was left without a protector. as he had made more enemies than friends in copenhagen, and had nothing to hope from the succeeding sovereign, he sought an asylum in another country. he went first to saxony; but met so little encouragement, and encountered so much danger from the emissaries of the inquisition, that he did not remain there many months. anticipating nothing but persecution in every country that acknowledged the spiritual authority of the pope, he appears to have taken the resolution to dwell in turkey, and turn mussulman. on his arrival at the hungarian frontier, on his way to constantinople, he was arrested on suspicion of being concerned in the conspiracy of the counts nadasdi and frangipani, which had just been discovered. in vain he protested his innocence, and divulged his real name and profession. he was detained in prison, and a letter despatched to the emperor leopold to know what should be done with him. the star of his fortunes was on the decline. the letter reached leopold at an unlucky moment. the pope's nuncio was closeted with his majesty; and he no sooner heard the name of joseph francis borri, than he demanded him as a prisoner of the holy see. the request was complied with; and borri, closely manacled, was sent under an escort of soldiers to the prison of the inquisition at rome. he was too much of an impostor to be deeply tinged with fanaticism, and was not unwilling to make a public recantation of his heresies if he could thereby save his life. when the proposition was made to him, he accepted it with eagerness. his punishment was to be commuted into the hardly less severe one of perpetual imprisonment; but he was too happy to escape the clutch of the executioner at any price, and he made the amende honorable in face of the assembled multitudes of rome on the th of october . he was then transferred to the prisons of the castle of st. angelo, where he remained till his death, twenty-three years afterwards. it is said that, towards the close of his life, considerable indulgence was granted him; that he was allowed to have a laboratory, and to cheer the solitude of his dungeon by searching for the philosopher's stone. queen christina, during her residence at rome, frequently visited the old man, to converse with him upon chemistry and the doctrines of the rosicrucians. she even obtained permission that he should leave his prison occasionally for a day or two, and reside in her palace, she being responsible for his return to captivity. she encouraged him to search for the great secret of the alchymists, and provided him with money for the purpose. it may well be supposed that borri benefited most by this acquaintance, and that christina got nothing but experience. it is not sure that she gained even that; for, until her dying day, she was convinced of the possibility of finding the philosopher's stone, and ready to assist any adventurer either zealous or impudent enough to pretend to it. after borri had been about eleven years in confinement, a small volume was published at cologne, entitled "the key of the cabinet of the chevalier joseph francis borri; in which are contained many curious letters upon chemistry and other sciences, written by him; together with a memoir of his life." this book contained a complete exposition of the rosicrucian philosophy, and afforded materials to the abbe de villars for his interesting "count de gabalis," which excited so much attention at the close of the seventeenth century. borri lingered in the prison of st. angelo till , when he died in his eightieth year. besides "the key of the cabinet," written originally in copenhagen, in , for the edification of king frederic iii, he published a work upon alchymy and the secret sciences, under the title of "the mission of romulus to the romans." inferior alchymists of the seventeenth century. besides the pretenders to the philosopher's stone whose lives have been already narrated, this and the preceding century produced a great number of writers, who inundated literature with their books upon the subject. in fact, most of the learned men of that age had some faith in it. van helmont, borrichius, kirchen, boerhaave, and a score of others, though not professed alchymists, were fond of the science, and countenanced its professors. helvetius, the grandfather of the celebrated philosopher of the same name, asserts that he saw an inferior metal turned into gold by a stranger, at the hague, in . he says that, sitting one day in his study, a man, who was dressed as a respectable burgher of north holland, and very modest and simple in his appearance, called upon him, with the intention of dispelling his doubts relative to the philosopher's stone. he asked helvetius if he thought he should know that rare gem if he saw it. to which helvetius replied, that he certainly should not. the burgher immediately drew from his pocket a small ivory box, containing three pieces of metal, of the colour of brimstone, and extremely heavy; and assured helvetius, that of them he could make as much as twenty tons of gold. helvetius informs us, that he examined them very attentively; and seeing that they were very brittle, he took the opportunity to scrape off a very small portion with his thumb-nail. he then returned them to the stranger, with an entreaty that he would perform the process of transmutation before him. the stranger replied, that he was not allowed to do so, and went away. after his departure, helvetius procured a crucible and a portion of lead, into which, when in a state of fusion, he threw the stolen grain from the philosopher's stone. he was disappointed to find that the grain evaporated altogether, leaving the lead in its original state. some weeks afterwards, when he had almost forgotten the subject, he received another visit from the stranger. he again entreated him to explain the processes by which he pretended to transmute lead. the stranger at last consented, and informed him, that one grain was sufficient; but that it was necessary to envelope it in a ball of wax before throwing it on the molten metal; otherwise its extreme volatility would cause it to go off in vapour. they tried the experiment, and succeeded to their heart's content. helvetius repeated the experiment alone, and converted six ounces of lead into very pure gold. the fame of this event spread all over the hague, and all the notable persons of the town flocked to the study of helvetius to convince themselves of the fact. helvetius performed the experiment again, in the presence of the prince of orange, and several times afterwards, until he exhausted the whole of the powder he had received from the stranger, from whom, it is necessary to state, he never received another visit; nor did he ever discover his name or condition. in the following year helvetius published his "golden calf," ["vitulus aureus quem mundus adorat et orat, in quo tractatur de naturae miraculo transmutandi metalla."--hagae, .] in which he detailed the above circumstances. about the same time, the celebrated father kircher published his "subterranean world," in which he called the alchymists a congregation of knaves and impostors, and their science a delusion. he admitted that he had himself been a diligent labourer in the field, and had only come to this conclusion after mature consideration and repeated fruitless experiments. all the alchymists were in arms immediately, to refute this formidable antagonist. one solomon de blauenstein was the first to grapple with him, and attempted to convict him of wilful misrepresentation, by recalling to his memory the transmutations by sendivogius, before the emperor frederic iii. and the elector of mayence; all performed within a recent period. zwelfer and glauber also entered into the dispute, and attributed the enmity of father kircher to spite and jealousy against adepts who had been more successful than himself. it was also pretended that gustavus adolphus transmuted a quantity of quicksilver into pure gold. the learned borrichius relates, that he saw coins which had been struck of this gold; and lenglet du fresnoy deposes to the same circumstance. in the travels of monconis the story is told in the following manner:--"a merchant of lubeck, who carried on but little trade, but who knew how to change lead into very good gold, gave the king of sweden a lingot which he had made, weighing, at least, one hundred pounds. the king immediately caused it to be coined into ducats; and because he knew positively that its origin was such as had been stated to him, he had his own arms graven upon the one side, and emblematical figures of mercury and venus on the other." "i," continued monconis, "have one of these ducats in my possession; and was credibly informed, that, after the death of the lubeck merchant, who had never appeared very rich, a sum of no less than one million seven hundred thousand crowns was found in his coffers." [voyages de monconis, tome ii. p. .] such stories as these, confidently related by men high in station, tended to keep up the infatuation of the alchymists in every country of europe. it is astonishing to see the number of works which were written upon the subject during the seventeenth century alone, and the number of clever men who sacrificed themselves to the delusion. gabriel de castaigne, a monk of the order of st. francis, attracted so much notice in the reign of louis xiii, that that monarch secured him in his household, and made him his grand almoner. he pretended to find the elixir of life; and louis expected, by his means, to have enjoyed the crown for a century. van helmont also pretended to have once performed with success the process of transmuting quicksilver; and was, in consequence, invited by the emperor rudolph ii. to fix his residence at the court of vienna. glauber, the inventor of the salts which still bear his name, and who practised as a physician at amsterdam about the middle of the seventeenth century, established a public school in that city for the study of alchymy, and gave lectures himself upon the science. john joachim becher, of spire, acquired great reputation at the same period; and was convinced that much gold might be made out of flint stones by a peculiar process, and the aid of that grand and incomprehensible substance, the philosopher's stone. he made a proposition to the emperor leopold of austria, to aid him in these experiments; but the hope of success was too remote, and the present expense too great to tempt that monarch; and he therefore gave becher much of his praise, but none of his money. becher afterwards tried the states-general of holland, with no better success. with regard to the innumerable tricks by which impostors persuaded the world that they had succeeded in making gold, and of which so many stories were current about this period, a very satisfactory report was read by m. geoffroy, the elder, at the sitting of the royal academy of sciences, at paris, on the th of april, . as it relates principally to the alchymic cheats of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the following abridgment of it may not be out of place in this portion of our history:--the instances of successful transmutation were so numerous, and apparently so well authenticated, that nothing short of so able an exposure as that of m. geoffroy could disabuse the public mind. the trick to which they oftenest had recourse, was to use a double-bottomed crucible, the under surface being of iron or copper, and the upper one of wax, painted to resemble the same metal. between the two they placed as much gold or silver dust as was necessary for their purpose. they then put in their lead, quicksilver, or other ingredients, and placed their pot upon the fire. of course, when the experiment was concluded, they never failed to find a lump of gold at the bottom. the same result was produced in many other ways. some of them used a hollow wand, filled with gold or silver dust, and stopped at the ends with wax or butter. with this they stirred the boiling metal in their crucibles, taking care to accompany the operation with many ceremonies, to divert attention from the real purpose of the manoeuvre. they also drilled holes in lumps of lead, into which they poured molten gold, and carefully closed the aperture with the original metal. sometimes they washed a piece of gold with quicksilver. when in this state they found no difficulty in palming it off upon the uninitiated as an inferior metal, and very easily transmuted it into fine sonorous gold again, with the aid of a little aquafortis. others imposed by means of nails, half iron and half gold or silver. they pretended that they really transmuted the precious half from iron, by dipping it in a strong alcohol. m. geoffroy produced several of these nails to the academy of sciences, and showed how nicely the two parts were soldered together. the golden or silver half was painted black to resemble iron, and the colour immediately disappeared when the nail was dipped into aquafortis. a nail of this description was, for a long time, in the cabinet of the grand duke of tuscany. such also, said m. geoffroy, was the knife presented by a monk to queen elizabeth of england; the blade of which was half gold and half steel. nothing at one time was more common than to see coins, half gold and half silver, which had been operated upon by alchymists, for the same purposes of trickery. in fact, says m. geoffroy, in concluding his long report, there is every reason to believe that all the famous histories which have been handed down to us, about the transmutation of metals into gold or silver, by means of the powder of projection, or philosophical elixirs, are founded upon some successful deception of the kind above narrated. these pretended philosophers invariably disappeared after the first or second experiment, or their powders or elixirs have failed to produce their effect, either because attention being excited they have found no opportunity to renew the trick without being discovered, or because they have not had sufficient gold dust for more than one trial. the disinterestedness of these would-be philosopher looked, at first sight, extremely imposing. instances were not rare, in which they generously abandoned all the profits of their transmutations--even the honour of the discovery! but this apparent disinterestedness was one of the most cunning of their manoeuvres. it served to keep up the popular expectation; it showed the possibility of discovering the philosopher's stone, and provided the means of future advantages, which they were never slow to lay hold of--such as entrances into royal households, maintenance at the public expense, and gifts from ambitious potentates, too greedy after the gold they so easily promised. it now only remains to trace the progress of the delusion from the commencement of the eighteenth century until the present day. it will be seen, that until a very recent period, there were but slight signs of a return to reason. jean delisle. in the year , there was much talk in france of a blacksmith, named delisle, who had discovered the philosopher's stone, and who went about the country turning lead into gold. he was a native of provence, from which place his fame soon spread to the capital. his early life is involved in obscurity; but longlet du fresnoy has industriously collected some particulars of his later career, which possess considerable interest. he was a man without any education, and had been servant in his youth to an alchymist, from whom he learned many of the tricks of the fraternity. the name of his master has never been discovered; but it is pretended that he rendered himself in some manner obnoxious to the government of louis xiv, and was obliged, in consequence, to take refuge in switzerland. delisle accompanied him as far as savoy, and there, it is said, set upon him in a solitary mountain-pass, and murdered and robbed him. he then disguised himself as a pilgrim, and returned to france. at a lonely inn, by the road-side, where he stopped for the night, he became acquainted with a woman, named aluys; and so sudden a passion was enkindled betwixt them, that she consented to leave all, follow him, and share his good or evil fortune wherever he went. they lived together for five or six years in provence, without exciting any attention, apparently possessed of a decent independence. at last, in , it was given out that he was the possessor of the philosopher's stone; and people, from far and near, came flocking to his residence, at the chateau de la palu, at sylanez, near barjaumont, to witness the wealth he could make out of pumps and fire shovels. the following account of his operations is given in a letter addressed by m. de cerisy, the prior of chateauneuf, in the diocese of riez, in provence, to the vicar of st. jacques du hautpas, at paris, and dated the th of november :-- "i have something to relate to you, my dear cousin, which will be interesting to you and your friends. the philosopher's stone, which so many persons have looked upon as a chimera, is at last found. it is a man named delisle, of the parish of sylanez, and residing within a quarter of a league of me, that has discovered this great secret. he turns lead into gold, and iron into silver, by merely heating these metals red hot, and pouring upon them, in that state, some oil and powder he is possessed of; so that it would not be impossible for any man to make a million a day, if he had sufficient of this wondrous mixture. some of the pale gold which he had made in this manner, he sent to the jewellers of lyons, to have their opinion on its quality. he also sold twenty pounds weight of it to a merchant of digne, named taxis. all the jewellers say they never saw such fine gold in their lives. he makes nails, part gold, part iron, and part silver. he promised to give me one of them, in a long conversation which i had with him the other day, by order of the bishop of sends, who saw his operations with his own eyes, and detailed all the circumstances to me. "the baron and baroness de rheinwald showed me a lingot of gold made out of pewter before their eyes by m. delisle. my brother-in-law sauveur, who has wasted fifty years of his life in this great study, brought me the other day a nail which he had seen changed into gold by delisle, and fully convinced me that all his previous experiments were founded on an erroneous principle. this excellent workman received, a short time ago, a very kind letter from the superintendent of the royal household, which i read. he offered to use all his influence with the ministers to prevent any attempts upon his liberty, which has twice been attacked by the agents of government. it is believed that the oil he makes use of, is gold or silver reduced to that state. he leaves it for a long time exposed to the rays of the sun. he told me that it generally took him six months to make all his preparations. i told him that, apparently, the king wanted to see him. he replied that he could not exercise his art in every place, as a certain climate and temperature were absolutely necessary to his success. the truth is, that this man appears to have no ambition. he only keeps two horses and two men-servants. besides, he loves his liberty, has no politeness, and speaks very bad french; but his judgment seems to be solid. he was formerly no more than a blacksmith, but excelled in that trade without having been taught it. all the great lords and seigneurs from far and near come to visit him, and pay such court to him, that it seems more like idolatry than anything else. happy would france be if this man would discover his secret to the king, to whom the superintendent has already sent some lingots! but the happiness is too great to be hoped for; for i fear that the workman and his secret will expire together. there is no doubt that this discovery will make a great noise in the kingdom, unless the character of the man, which i have just depicted to you, prevent it. at all events, posterity will hear of him." in another letter to the same person, dated the th of january , m. de cerisy says, "my dear cousin, i spoke to you in my last letter of the famous alchymist of provence, m. delisle. a good deal of that was only hearsay, but now i am enabled to speak from my own experience. i have in my possession a nail, half iron and half silver, which i made myself. that great and admirable workman also bestowed a still greater privilege upon me--he allowed me to turn a piece of lead which i had brought with me into pure gold, by means of his wonderful oil and powder. all the country have their eyes upon this gentleman: some deny loudly, others are incredulous; but those who have seen acknowledge the truth. i have read the passport that has been sent to him from court, with orders that he should present himself at paris early in the spring. he told me that he would go willingly, and that it was himself who fixed the spring for his departure; as he wanted to collect his materials, in order that, immediately on his introduction to the king, he might make an experiment worthy of his majesty, by converting a large quantity of lead into the finest gold. i sincerely hope that he will not allow his secret to die with him, but that he will communicate it to the king. as i had the honour to dine with him on thursday last, the th of this month, being seated at his side, i told him in a whisper that he could, if he liked, humble all the enemies of france. he did not deny it, but began to smile. in fact, this man is the miracle of art. sometimes he employs the oil and powder mixed, sometimes the powder only, but in so small a quantity that, when the lingot which i made was rubbed all over with it, it did not show at all." this soft-headed priest was by no means the only person in the neighbourhood who lost his wits in hopes of the boundless wealth held out by this clever impostor. another priest, named de lions, a chanter in the cathedral of grenoble, writing on the th january , says,--"m. mesnard, the curate of montier, has written to me, stating that there is a man, about thirty-five years of age, named delisle, who turns lead and iron into gold and silver; and that this transmutation is so veritable and so true, that the goldsmiths affirm that his gold and silver are the purest and finest they ever saw. for five years, this man was looked upon as a madman or a cheat; but the public mind is now disabused with respect to him. he now resides with m. de la palu, at the chateau of the same name. m. de la palu is not very easy in his circumstances, and wants money to portion his daughters, who have remained single till middle age, no man being willing to take them without a dowry. m. delisle has promised to make them the richest girls in the province before he goes to court, having been sent for by the king. he has asked for a little time before his departure, in order that he may collect powder enough to make several quintals of gold before the eyes of his majesty, to whom he intends to present them. the principal matter of his wonderful powder is composed of simples, principally the herbs lunaria major and minor. there is a good deal of the first planted by him in the gardens of la palu; and he gets the other from the mountains, that stretch about two leagues from montier. what i tell you now is not a mere story invented for your diversion: m. mesnard can bring forward many witnesses to its truth; among others, the bishop of senes, who saw these surprising operations performed; and m. de cerisy, whom you know well. delisle transmutes his metals in public. he rubs the lead or iron with his powder, and puts it over burning charcoal. in a short time it changes colour; the lead becomes yellow, and is found to be converted into excellent gold: the iron becomes white, and is found to be pure silver. delisle is altogether an illiterate person. m. de st. auban endeavoured to teach him to read and write, but he profited very little by his lessons. he is unpolite, fantastic, and a dreamer, and acts by fits and starts." delisle, it would appear, was afraid of venturing to paris. he knew that his sleight of hand would be too narrowly watched in the royal presence; and upon some pretence or other, he delayed the journey for more than two years. desmarets, the minister of finance to louis xiv, thinking the "philosopher" dreaded foul play, twice sent him a safe conduct under the king's seal; but delisle still refused. upon this, desmarets wrote to the bishop of sends for his real opinion as to these famous transmutations. the following was the answer of that prelate:-- "copy of a report addressed to m. desmarets, comptroller-general of the finances to his majesty louis xiv, by the bishop of senes, dated march . "sir, "a twelvemonth ago, or a little more, i expressed to you my joy at hearing of your elevation to the ministry; i have now the honour to write you my opinion of the sieur delisle, who has been working at the transmutation of metals in my diocese. i have, during the last two years, spoken of him several times to the count de pontchartrain, because he asked me; but i have not written to you, sir, or to m. de chamillart, because you neither of you requested my opinion upon the subject. now, however, that you have given me to understand that you wish to know my sentiments on the matter, i will unfold myself to you in all sincerity, for the interests of the king and the glory of your ministry. "there are two things about the sieur delisle which, in my opinion, should be examined without prejudice: the one relates to his secret; the other, to his person; that is to say, whether his transmutations are real, and whether his conduct has been regular. as regards the secret of the philosopher's stone, i deemed it impossible, for a long time; and for more than three years, i was more mistrustful of the pretensions of this sieur delisle than of any other person. during this period i afforded him no countenance; i even aided a person, who was highly recommended to me by an influential family of this province, to prosecute delisle for some offence or other which it was alleged he had committed. but this person, in his anger against him, having told me that he had himself been several times the bearer of gold and silver to the goldsmiths of nice, aix, and avignon, which had been transmuted by delisle from lead and iron, i began to waver a little in my opinions respecting him. i afterwards met delisle at the house of one of my friends. to please me, the family asked delisle to operate before me, to which he immediately consented. i offered him some iron nails, which he changed into silver in the chimney-place before six or seven credible witnesses. i took the nails thus transmuted, and sent them by my almoner to irabert, the jeweller of aix, who, having subjected them to the necessary trial, returned them to me, saying they were very good silver. still, however, i was not quite satisfied. m. de pontchartrain having hinted to me, two years previously, that i should do a thing agreeable to his majesty if i examined into this business of delisle, i resolved to do so now. i therefore summoned the alchymist to come to me at castellane. he came; and i had him escorted by eight or ten vigilant men, to whom i had given notice to watch his hands strictly. before all of us he changed two pieces of lead into gold and silver. i sent them both to m. de pontchartrain; and he afterwards informed me by a letter, now lying before me, that he had shown them to the most experienced goldsmiths of paris, who unanimously pronounced them to be gold and silver of the very purest quality, and without alloy. my former bad opinion of delisle was now indeed shaken. it was much more so when he performed transmutation five or six times before me at senes, and made me perform it myself before him without his putting his hand to anything. you have seen, sir, the letter of my nephew, the pere berard, of the oratoire at paris, on the experiment that he performed at castellane, and the truth of which i hereby attest. another nephew of mine, the sieur bourget, who was here three weeks ago, performed the same experiment in my presence, and will detail all the circumstances to you personally at paris. a hundred persons in my diocese have been witnesses of these things. i confess to you, sir, that, after the testimony of so many spectators and so many goldsmiths, and after the repeatedly successful experiments that i saw performed, all my prejudices vanished. my reason was convinced by my eyes; and the phantoms of impossibility which i had conjured up were dissipated by the work of my own hands. "it now only remains for me to speak to you on the subject of his person and conduct. three suspicions have been excited against him: the first, that he was implicated in some criminal proceeding at cisteron, and that he falsified the coin of the realm; the second, that the king sent him two safe-conducts without effect; and the third, that he still delays going to court to operate before the king. you may see, sir, that i do not hide or avoid anything. as regards the business at cisteron, the sieur delisle has repeatedly assured me that there was nothing against him which could reasonably draw him within the pale of justice, and that he had never carried on any calling injurious to the king's service. it was true that, six or seven years ago, he had been to cisteron to gather herbs necessary for his powder, and that he had lodged at the house of one pelouse, whom he thought an honest man. pelouse was accused of clipping louis d'ors; and as he had lodged with him, he was suspected of being his accomplice. this mere suspicion, without any proof whatever, had caused him to be condemned for contumacy; a common case enough with judges, who always proceed with much rigour against those who are absent. during my own sojourn at aix, it was well known that a man, named andre aluys, had spread about reports injurious to the character of delisle, because he hoped thereby to avoid paying him a sum of forty louis that he owed him. but permit me, sir, to go further, and to add that, even if there were well-founded suspicions against delisle, we should look with some little indulgence on the faults of a man who possesses a secret so useful to the state. as regards the two safe-conducts sent him by the king, i think i can answer certainly that it was through no fault of his that he paid so little attention to them. his year, strictly speaking, consists only of the four summer months; and when by any means he is prevented from making the proper use of them, he loses a whole year. thus the first safe-conduct became useless by the irruption of the duke of savoy in ; and the second had hardly been obtained, at the end of june , when the said delisle was insulted by a party of armed men, pretending to act under the authority of the count de grignan, to whom he wrote several letters of complaint, without receiving any answer, or promise that his safety would be attended to. what i have now told you, sir, removes the third objection, and is the reason why, at the present time, he cannot go to paris to the king, in fulfilment of his promises made two years ago. two, or even three, summers have been lost to him, owing to the continual inquietude he has laboured under. he has, in consequence, been unable to work, and has not collected a sufficient quantity of his oil and powder, or brought what he has got to the necessary degree of perfection. for this reason also he could not give the sieur de bourget the portion he promised him for your inspection. if the other day he changed some lead into gold with a few grains of his powder, they were assuredly all he had; for he told me that such was the fact long before he knew my nephew was coming. even if he had preserved this small quantity to operate before the king, i am sure that, on second thoughts, he would never have adventured with so little; because the slightest obstacles in the metals (their being too hard or too soft, which is only discovered in operating) would have caused him to be looked upon as an impostor, if, in case his first powder had proved ineffectual, he had not been possessed of more to renew the experiment and surmount the difficulty. "permit me, sir, in conclusion, to repeat that such an artist as this should not be driven to the last extremity, nor forced to seek an asylum offered to him in other countries, but which he has despised, as much from his own inclinations as from the advice i have given him. you risk nothing in giving him a little time, and in hurrying him you may lose a great deal. the genuineness of his gold can no longer be doubted, after the testimony of so many jewellers of aix, lyons, and paris in its favour. as it is not his fault that the previous safe-conducts sent to him have been of no service, it will be necessary to send him another; for the success of which i will be answerable, if you will confide the matter to me, and trust to my zeal for the service of his majesty, to whom i pray you to communicate this letter, that i may be spared the just reproaches he might one day heap upon me if he remained ignorant of the facts i have now written to you. assure him, if you please, that, if you send me such a safe-conduct, i will oblige the sieur delisle to depose with me such precious pledges of his fidelity, as shall enable me to be responsible myself to the king. these are my sentiments, and i submit them to your superior knowledge; and have the honour to remain, with much respect, &c. "john, bishop of senes." "to m. desmarets, minister of state, and "comptroller-general of the finances, at paris." that delisle was no ordinary impostor, but a man of consummate cunning and address, is very evident from this letter. the bishop was fairly taken in by his clever legerdemain, and when once his first distrust was conquered, appeared as anxious to deceive himself as even delisle could have wished. his faith was so abundant that he made the case of his protege his own, and would not suffer the breath of suspicion to be directed against him. both louis and his minister appear to have been dazzled by the brilliant hopes he had excited, and a third pass, or safe-conduct, was immediately sent to the alchymist, with a command from the king that he should forthwith present himself at versailles, and make public trial of his oil and powder. but this did not suit the plans of delisle: in the provinces he was regarded as a man of no small importance; the servile flattery that awaited him wherever he went was so grateful to his mind that he could not willingly relinquish it and run upon certain detection at the court of the monarch. upon one pretext or another he delayed his journey, notwithstanding the earnest solicitations of his good friend the bishop. the latter had given his word to the minister, and pledged his honour that he would induce delisle to go, and he began to be alarmed when he found he could not subdue the obstinacy of that individual. for more than two years he continued to remonstrate with him, and was always met by some excuse, that there was not sufficient powder, or that it had not been long enough exposed to the rays of the sun. at last his patience was exhausted; and fearful that he might suffer in the royal estimation by longer delay, he wrote to the king for a lettre de cachet, in virtue of which the alchymist was seized at the castle of la palu, in the month of june , and carried off to be imprisoned in the bastille. the gendarmes were aware that their prisoner was supposed to be the lucky possessor of the philosopher's stone, and on the road they conspired to rob and murder him. one of them pretended to be touched with pity for the misfortunes of the philosopher, and offered to give him an opportunity of escape whenever he could divert the attention of his companions. delisle was profuse in his thanks, little dreaming of the snare that was laid for him. his treacherous friend gave notice of the success of the stratagem so far; and it was agreed that delisle should be allowed to struggle with and overthrow one of them while the rest were at some distance. they were then to pursue him and shoot him through the heart; and after robbing the corpse of the philosopher's stone, convey it to paris on a cart, and tell m. desmarets that the prisoner had attempted to escape, and would have succeeded, if they had not fired after him and shot him through the body. at a convenient place the scheme was executed. at a given signal from the friendly gendarme delisle fled, while another gendarme took aim and shot him through the thigh. some peasants arriving at the instant, they were prevented from killing him as they intended; and he was transported to paris, maimed and bleeding. he was thrown into a dungeon in the bastille, and obstinately tore away the bandages which the surgeons applied to his wound. he never afterwards rose from his bed. the bishop of senes visited him in prison, and promised him his liberty if he would transmute a certain quantity of lead into gold before the king. the unhappy man had no longer the means of carrying on the deception; he had no gold, and no double-bottomed crucible or hollow wand to conceal it in, even if he had. he would not, however, confess that he was an impostor; but merely said he did not know how to make the powder of projection, but had received a quantity from an italian philosopher, and had used it all in his various transmutations in provence. he lingered for seven or eight months in the bastille, and died from the effects of his wound, in the forty-first year of his age. albert aluys. this pretender to the philosopher's stone, was the son, by a former husband, of the woman aluys, with whom delisle became acquainted at the commencement of his career, in the cabaret by the road side, and whom he afterwards married. delisle performed the part of a father towards him, and thought he could show no stronger proof of his regard, than by giving him the necessary instructions to carry on the deception which had raised himself to such a pitch of greatness. the young aluys was an apt scholar, and soon mastered all the jargon of the alchymists. he discoursed learnedly upon projections, cimentations, sublimations, the elixir of life, and the universal alkahest; and on the death of delisle gave out that the secret of that great adept had been communicated to him, and to him only. his mother aided in the fraud, with the hope they might both fasten themselves, in the true alchymical fashion, upon some rich dupe, who would entertain them magnificently while the operation was in progress. the fate of delisle was no inducement for them to stop in france. the provencals, it is true, entertained as high an opinion as ever of his skill, and were well inclined to believe the tales of the young adept on whom his mantle had fallen; but the dungeons of the bastille were yawning for their prey, and aluys and his mother decamped with all convenient expedition. they travelled about the continent for several years, sponging upon credulous rich men, and now and then performing successful transmutations by the aid of double-bottomed crucibles and the like. in the year , aluys, without his mother, who appears to have died in the interval, was at vienna, where he introduced himself to the duke de richelieu, at that time ambassador from the court of france. he completely deceived this nobleman; he turned lead into gold (apparently) on several occasions, and even made the ambassador himself turn an iron nail into a silver one. the duke afterwards boasted to lenglet du fresnoy of his achievements as an alchymist, and regretted that he had not been able to discover the secret of the precious powder by which he performed them. aluys soon found that, although he might make a dupe of the duke de richelieu, he could not get any money from him. on the contrary, the duke expected all his pokers and fire shovels to be made silver, and all his pewter utensils gold; and thought the honour of his acquaintance was reward sufficient for a roturier, who could not want wealth since he possessed so invaluable a secret. aluys seeing that so much was expected of him, bade adieu to his excellency, and proceeded to bohemia, accompanied by a pupil, and by a young girl who had fallen in love with him in vienna. some noblemen in bohemia received him kindly, and entertained him at their houses for months at a time. it was his usual practice to pretend that he possessed only a few grains of his powder, with which he would operate in any house where he intended to fix his quarters for the season. he would make the proprietor a present of the piece of gold thus transmuted, and promise him millions, if he could only be provided with leisure to gather his lunaria major and minor on their mountain tops, and board, lodging, and loose cash for himself, his wife, and his pupil in the interval. he exhausted in this manner the patience of some dozen of people, when, thinking that there was less danger for him in france, under the young king louis xv, than under his old and morose predecessor, he returned to provence. on his arrival at aix, he presented himself before m. le bret, the president of the province, a gentleman who was much attached to the pursuits of alchymy, and had great hopes of being himself able to find the philosopher's stone. m. le bret, contrary to his expectation, received him very coolly, in consequence of some rumours that were spread abroad respecting him; and told him to call upon him on the morrow. aluys did not like the tone of the voice, or the expression of the eye of the learned president, as that functionary looked down upon him. suspecting that all was not right, he left aix secretly the same evening, and proceeded to marseilles. but the police were on the watch for him; and he had not been there four-and-twenty hours, before he was arrested on a charge of coining, and thrown into prison. as the proofs against him were too convincing to leave him much hope of an acquittal, he planned an escape from durance. it so happened that the gaoler had a pretty daughter, and aluys soon discovered that she was tender-hearted. he endeavoured to gain her in his favour, and succeeded. the damsel, unaware that he was a married man, conceived and encouraged a passion for him, and generously provided him with the means of escape. after he had been nearly a year in prison he succeeded in getting free, leaving the poor girl behind, to learn that he was already married, and to lament in solitude that she had given her heart to an ungrateful vagabond. when he left marseilles, he had not a shoe to his foot, or a decent garment to his back, but was provided with some money and clothes by his wife in a neighbouring town. they then found their way to brussels, and by dint of excessive impudence, brought themselves into notice. he took a house, fitted up a splendid laboratory, and gave out that he knew the secret of transmutation. in vain did m. percel, the brother-in-law of lenglet du fresnoy, who resided in that city, expose his pretensions, and hold him up to contempt as an ignorant impostor: the world believed him not. they took the alchymist at his word, and besieged his doors, to see and wonder at the clever legerdemain by which he turned iron nails into gold and silver. a rich greffier paid him a large sum of money that he might be instructed in the art, and aluys gave him several lessons on the most common principles of chemistry. the greffier studied hard for a twelvemonth, and then discovered that his master was a quack. he demanded his money back again; but aluys was not inclined to give it him, and the affair was brought before the civil tribunal of the province. in the mean time, however, the greffier died suddenly; poisoned, according to the popular rumour, by his debtor, to avoid repayment. so great an outcry arose in the city, that aluys, who may have been innocent of the crime, was nevertheless afraid to remain and brave it. he withdrew secretly in the night, and retired to paris. here all trace of him is lost. he was never heard of again; but lenglet du fresnoy conjectures, that he ended his days in some obscure dungeon, into which he was cast for coining, or other malpractices. the count de st. germain this adventurer was of a higher grade than the last, and played a distinguished part at the court of louis xv. he pretended to have discovered the elixir of life, by means of which he could make any one live for centuries; and allowed it to be believed that his own age was upwards of two thousand years. he entertained many of the opinions of the rosicrucians; boasted of his intercourse with sylphs and salamanders; and of his power of drawing diamonds from the earth, and pearls from the sea, by the force of his incantations. he did not lay claim to the merit of having discovered the philosopher's stone; but devoted so much of his time to the operations of alchymy, that it was very generally believed, that, if such a thing as the philosopher's stone had ever existed, or could be called into existence, he was the man to succeed in finding it. it has never yet been discovered what was his real name, or in what country he was born. some believed, from the jewish cast of his handsome countenance, that he was the "wandering jew;" others asserted, that he was the issue of an arabian princess, and that his father was a salamander; while others, more reasonable, affirmed him to be the son of a portuguese jew, established at bourdeaux. he first carried on his imposture in germany, where he made considerable sums by selling an elixir to arrest the progress of old age. the marechal de belle-isle purchased a dose of it; and was so captivated with the wit, learning, and good manners of the charlatan, and so convinced of the justice of his most preposterous pretensions, that he induced him to fix his residence in paris. under the marshal's patronage, he first appeared in the gay circles of that capital. every one was delighted with the mysterious stranger; who, at this period of his life, appears to have been about seventy years of age, but did not look more than forty-five. his easy assurance imposed upon most people. his reading was extensive, and his memory extraordinarily tenacious of the slightest circumstances. his pretension to have lived for so many centuries naturally exposed him to some puzzling questions, as to the appearance, life, and conversation of the great men of former days; but he was never at a loss for an answer. many who questioned him for the purpose of scoffing at him, refrained in perplexity, quite bewildered by his presence of mind, his ready replies, and his astonishing accuracy on every point mentioned in history. to increase the mystery by which he was surrounded, he permitted no person to know how he lived. he dressed in a style of the greatest magnificence; sported valuable diamonds in his hat, on his fingers, and in his shoe-buckles; and sometimes made the most costly presents to the ladies of the court. it was suspected by many that he was a spy, in the pay of the english ministry; but there never was a tittle of evidence to support the charge. the king looked upon him with marked favour, was often closeted with him for hours together, and would not suffer anybody to speak disparagingly of him. voltaire constantly turned him into ridicule; and, in one of his letters to the king of prussia, mentions him as "un comte pour fire;" and states, that he pretended to have dined with the holy fathers, at the council of trent! in the "memoirs of madame du hausset," chamber-woman to madame du pompadour, there are some amusing anecdotes of this personage. very soon after his arrival in paris, he had the entree of her dressing-room; a favour only granted to the most powerful lords at the court of her royal lover. madame was fond of conversing with him; and, in her presence, he thought fit to lower his pretensions very considerably: but he often allowed her to believe that he had lived two or three hundred years, at least. "one day," says madame du hausset, "madame said to him, in my presence, 'what was the personal appearance of francis i? he was a king i should have liked.' 'he was, indeed, very captivating,' replied st. germain; and he proceeded to describe his face and person, as that of a man whom he had accurately observed. 'it is a pity he was too ardent. i could have given him some good advice, which would have saved him from all his misfortunes: but he would not have followed it; for it seems as if a fatality attended princes, forcing them to shut their ears to the wisest counsel.' 'was his court very brilliant?' inquired madame du pompadour. 'very,' replied the count; 'but those of his grandsons surpassed it. in the time of mary stuart and margaret of valois, it was a land of enchantment--a temple sacred to pleasures of every kind.' madame said, laughing, 'you seem to have seen all this.' 'i have an excellent memory,' said he, 'and have read the history of france with great care. i sometimes amuse myself, not by making, but by letting, it be believed that i lived in old times.' "'but you do not tell us your age,' said madame du pompadour to him on another occasion; 'and yet you pretend you are very old. the countess de gergy, who was, i believe, ambassadress at vienna some fifty years ago, says she saw you there, exactly the same as you now appear.' "'it is true, madam,' replied st. germain; 'i knew madame de gergy many years ago.' "'but, according to her account, you must be more than a hundred years old?' "'that is not impossible,' said he, laughing; 'but it is much more possible that the good lady is in her dotage.' "'you gave her an elixir, surprising for the effects it produced; for she says, that during a length of time, she only appeared to be eighty-four; the age at which she took it. why don't you give it to the king?' "'o madam!' he exclaimed, 'the physicians would have me broken on the wheel, were i to think of drugging his majesty.'" when the world begins to believe extraordinary things of an individual, there is no telling where its extravagance will stop. people, when once they have taken the start, vie with each other who shall believe most. at this period all paris resounded with the wonderful adventures of the count de st. germain; and a company of waggish young men tried the following experiment upon its credulity:-a clever mimic, who, on account of the amusement he afforded, was admitted into good society, was taken by them, dressed as the count de st. germain, into several houses in the rue du marais. he imitated the count's peculiarities admirably, and found his auditors open-mouthed to believe any absurdity he chose to utter. no fiction was too monstrous for their all-devouring credulity. he spoke of the saviour of the world in terms of the greatest familiarity; said he had supped with him at the marriage in canaan of galilee, where the water was miraculously turned into wine. in fact, he said he was an intimate friend of his, and had often warned him to be less romantic and imprudent, or he would finish his career miserably. this infamous blasphemy, strange to say, found believers; and, ere three days had elapsed, it was currently reported that st. germain was born soon after the deluge, and that he would never die! st. germain himself was too much a man of the world to assert anything so monstrous; but he took no pains to contradict the story. in all his conversations with persons of rank and education, he advanced his claims modestly, and as if by mere inadvertency; and seldom pretended to a longevity beyond three hundred years; except when he found he was in company with persons who would believe anything. he often spoke of henry viii, as if he had known him intimately; and of the emperor charles v, as if that monarch had delighted in his society. he would describe conversations which took place with such an apparent truthfulness, and be so exceedingly minute and particular as to the dress and appearance of the individuals, and even the weather at the time, and the furniture of the room, that three persons out of four were generally inclined to credit him. he had constant applications from rich old women for an elixir to make them young again; and, it would appear, gained large sums in this manner. to those whom he was pleased to call his friends, he said, his mode of living and plan of diet were far superior to any elixir; and that anybody might attain a patriarchal age, by refraining from drinking at meals, and very sparingly at any other time. the baron de gleichen followed this system, and took great quantities of senna leaves, expecting to live for two hundred years. he died, however, at seventy-three. the duchess de choiseul was desirous of following the same system; but the duke her husband, in much wrath, forbade her to follow any system prescribed by a man who had so equivocal a reputation as m. de st. germain. madame du hausset says, she saw st. germain, and conversed with him several times. he appeared to her to be about fifty years of age, was of the middle size, and had fine expressive features. his dress was always simple, but displayed much taste. he usually wore diamond rings of great value; and his watch and snuff-box were ornamented with a profusion of precious stones. one day, at madame du pompadour's apartments, where the principal courtiers were assembled, st. germain made his appearance in diamond knee and shoe buckles, of so fine a water, that madame said, she did not think the king had any equal to them. he was entreated to pass into the antechamber, and undo them; which he did, and brought them to madame, for closer inspection. m. de gontant, who was present, said their value could not be less than two hundred thousand livres, or upwards of eight thousand pounds sterling. the baron de gleichen, in his "memoirs," relates, that the count one day showed him so many diamonds, that he thought he saw before him all the treasures of aladdin's lamp; and adds, that he had had great experience in precious stones, and was convinced that all those possessed by the count were genuine. on another occasion, st. germain showed madame du pompadour a small box, containing topazes, emeralds, and diamonds, worth half a million of livres. he affected to despise all this wealth, to make the world more easily believe that he could, like the rosicrucians, draw precious stones out of the earth by the magic of his song. he gave away a great number of these jewels to the ladies of the court; and madame du pompadour was so charmed with his generosity, that she gave him a richly-enamelled snuff-box, as a token of her regard; on the lid of which was beautifully painted a portrait of socrates, or some other greek sage, to whom she compared him. he was not only lavish to the mistresses, but to the maids. madame du hausset says,--"the count came to see madame du pompadour, who was very ill, and lay on the sofa. he showed her diamonds enough to furnish a king's treasury. madame sent for me to see all those beautiful things. i looked at them with an air of the utmost astonishment; but i made signs to her, that i thought them all false. the count felt for something in a pocket-book about twice as large as a spectacle-case; and, at length, drew out two or three little paper packets, which he unfolded, and exhibited a superb ruby. he threw on the table, with a contumptuous air, a little cross of green and white stones. i looked at it, and said it was not to be despised. i then put it on, and admired it greatly. the count begged me to accept it. i refused. he urged me to take it. at length, he pressed so warmly, that madame, seeing it could not be worth more than a thousand livres, made me a sign to accept it. i took the cross, much pleased with the count's politeness." how the adventurer obtained his wealth remains a secret. he could not have made it all by the sale of his elixir vitae in germany; though, no doubt, some portion of it was derived from that source. voltaire positively says, he was in the pay of foreign governments; and in his letter to the king of prussia, dated the th of april , says, that he was initiated in all the secrets of choiseul, kaunitz, and pitt. of what use he could be to any of those ministers, and to choiseul especially, is a mystery of mysteries. there appears no doubt that he possessed the secret of removing spots from diamonds; and, in all probability, he gained considerable sums by buying, at inferior prices, such as had flaws in them, and afterwards disposing of them at a profit of cent. per cent. madame du hausset relates the following anecdote on this particular:--"the king," says she, "ordered a middling-sized diamond, which had a flaw in it, to be brought to him. after having it weighed, his majesty said to the count, 'the value of this diamond, as it is, and with the flaw in it, is six thousand livres; without the flaw, it would be worth, at least, ten thousand. will you undertake to make me a gainer of four thousand livres?' st. germain examined it very attentively, and said, 'it is possible; it may be done. i will bring it you again in a month.' at the time appointed, the count brought back the diamond, without a spot, and gave it to the king. it was wrapped in a cloth of amianthos, which he took off. the king had it weighed immediately, and found it very little diminished. his majesty then sent it to his jeweller, by m. de gonrant, without telling him of anything that had passed. the jeweller gave nine thousand six hundred livres for it. the king, however, sent for the diamond back again, and said he would keep it as a curiosity. he could not overcome his surprise; and said m. de st. germain must be worth millions; especially if he possessed the secret of making large diamonds out of small ones. the count neither said that he could, or could not; but positively asserted, that he knew how to make pearls grow, and give them the finest water. the king paid him great attention, and so did madame du pompadour. m. du quesnoy once said, that st. germain was a quack; but the king reprimanded him. in fact, his majesty appears infatuated by him; and sometimes talks of him as if his descent were illustrious." st. germain had a most amusing vagabond for a servant, to whom he would often appeal for corroboration, when relating some wonderful event that happened centuries before. the fellow, who was not without ability, generally corroborated him in a most satisfactory manner. upon one occasion, his master was telling a party of ladies and gentlemen, at dinner, some conversation he had had in palestine, with king richard i. of england, whom he described as a very particular friend of his. signs of astonishment and incredulity were visible on the faces of the company; upon which st. germain very coolly turned to his servant, who stood behind his chair, and asked him if he had not spoken truth? "i really cannot say," replied the man, without moving a muscle; "you forget, sir, i have only been five hundred years in your service!" "ah! true," said his master; "i remember now; it was a little before your time!" occasionally, when with men whom he could not so easily dupe, he gave utterance to the contempt with which he could scarcely avoid regarding such gaping credulity. "these fools of parisians," said he, to the baron de gleichen, "believe me to be more than five hundred years old; and, since they will have it so, i confirm them in their idea. not but that i really am much older than i appear." many other stories are related of this strange impostor; but enough have been quoted to show his character and pretensions. it appears that he endeavoured to find the philosopher's stone; but never boasted of possessing it. the prince of hesse cassel, whom he had known years before, in germany, wrote urgent letters to him, entreating him to quit paris, and reside with him. st. germain at last consented. nothing further is known of his career. there were no gossipping memoir-writers at the court of hesse cassel to chronicle his sayings and doings. he died at sleswig, under the roof of his friend the prince, in the year . cagliostro, this famous charlatan, the friend and successor of st. germain, ran a career still more extraordinary. he was the arch-quack of his age, the last of the great pretenders to the philosopher's stone and the water of life, and during his brief season of prosperity one of the most conspicuous characters of europe. his real name was joseph balsamo. he was born at palermo about the year , of humble parentage. he had the misfortune to lose his father during his infancy, and his education was left in consequence to some relatives of his mother, the latter being too poor to afford him any instruction beyond mere reading and writing. he was sent in his fifteenth year to a monastery, to be taught the elements of chemistry and physic; but his temper was so impetuous, his indolence so invincible, and his vicious habits so deeply rooted, that he made no progress. after remaining some years, he left it with the character of an uninformed and dissipated young man, with good natural talents but a bad disposition. when he became of age, he abandoned himself to a life of riot and debauchery, and entered himself, in fact, into that celebrated fraternity, known in france and italy as the "knights of industry," and in england as the "swell mob." he was far from being an idle or unwilling member of the corps. the first way in which he distinguished himself was by forging orders of admission to the theatres. he afterwards robbed his uncle, and counterfeited a will. for acts like these, he paid frequent compulsory visits to the prisons of palermo. somehow or other he acquired the character of a sorcerer--of a man who had failed in discovering the secrets of alchymy, and had sold his soul to the devil for the gold which he was not able to make by means of transmutation. he took no pains to disabuse the popular mind on this particular, but rather encouraged the belief than otherwise. he at last made use of it to cheat a silversmith, named marano, of about sixty ounces of gold, and was in consequence obliged to leave palermo. he persuaded this man that he could show him a treasure hidden in a cave, for which service he was to receive the sixty ounces of gold, while the silversmith was to have all the treasure for the mere trouble of digging it up. they went together at midnight to an excavation in the vicinity of palermo, where balsamo drew a magic circle, and invoked the devil to show his treasures. suddenly there appeared half a dozen fellows, the accomplices of the swindler, dressed to represent devils, with horns on their heads, claws to their fingers, and vomiting apparently red and blue flame. they were armed with pitchforks, with which they belaboured poor marano till he was almost dead, and robbed him of his sixty ounces of gold and all the valuables he carried about his person. they then made off, accompanied by balsamo, leaving the unlucky silversmith to recover or die at his leisure. nature chose the former course; and soon after daylight he was restored to his senses, smarting in body from his blows and in spirit for the deception of which he had been the victim. his first impulse was to denounce balsamo to the magistrates of the town; but on further reflection he was afraid of the ridicule that a full exposure of all the circumstances would draw upon him: he therefore took the truly italian resolution of being revenged on balsamo by murdering him at the first convenient opportunity. having given utterance to this threat in the hearing of a friend of balsamo, it was reported to the latter, who immediately packed up his valuables and quitted europe. he chose medina, in arabia, for his future dwelling-place, and there became acquainted with a greek named altotas, a man exceedingly well versed in all the languages of the east, and an indefatigable student of alchymy. he possessed an invaluable collection of arabian manuscripts on his favourite science, and studied them with such unremitting industry that he found he had not sufficient time to attend to his crucibles and furnaces without neglecting his books. he was looking about for an assistant when balsamo opportunely presented himself, and made so favourable an impression that he was at once engaged in that capacity. but the relation of master and servant did not long subsist between them; balsamo was too ambitious and too clever to play a secondary part, and within fifteen days of their first acquaintance they were bound together as friends and partners. altotas, in the course of a long life devoted to alchymy, had stumbled upon some valuable discoveries in chemistry, one of which was an ingredient for improving the manufacture of flax, and imparting to goods of that material a gloss and softness almost equal to silk. balsamo gave him the good advice to leave the philosopher's stone for the present undiscovered, and make gold out of their flax. the advice was taken, and they proceeded together to alexandria to trade, with a large stock of that article. they stayed forty days in alexandria, and gained a considerable sum by their venture. they afterwards visited other cities in egypt, and were equally successful. they also visited turkey, where they sold drugs and amulets. on their return to europe, they were driven by stress of weather into malta, and were hospitably received by pinto, the grand master of the knights, and a famous alchymist. they worked in his laboratory for some months, and tried hard to change a pewter-platter into a silver one. balsamo, having less faith than his companions, was sooner wearied; and obtaining from his host many letters of introduction to rome and naples, he left him and altotas to find the philosopher's stone and transmute the pewter-platter without him. he had long since dropped the name of balsamo on account of the many ugly associations that clung to it; and during his travels had assumed at least half a score others, with titles annexed to them. he called himself sometimes the chevalier de fischio, the marquis de melissa, the baron de belmonte, de pelligrini, d'anna, de fenix, de harat, but most commonly the count de cagliostro. under the latter title he entered rome, and never afterwards changed it. in this city he gave himself out as the restorer of the rosicrucian philosophy; said he could transmute all metals into gold; that he could render himself invisible, cure all diseases, and administer an elixir against old age and decay. his letters from the grand master pinto procured him an introduction into the best families. he made money rapidly by the sale of his elixir vitae; and, like other quacks, performed many remarkable cures by inspiring his patients with the most complete faith and reliance upon his powers; an advantage which the most impudent charlatans often possess over the regular practitioner. while thus in a fair way of making his fortune he became acquainted with the beautiful lorenza feliciana, a young lady of noble birth, but without fortune. cagliostro soon discovered that she possessed accomplishments that were invaluable. besides her ravishing beauty, she had the readiest wit, the most engaging manners, the most fertile imagination, and the least principle of any of the maidens of rome. she was just the wife for cagliostro, who proposed himself to her, and was accepted. after their marriage, he instructed his fair lorenza in all the secrets of his calling--taught her pretty lips to invoke angels, and genii, sylphs, salamanders, and undines, and, when need required, devils and evil spirits. lorenza was an apt scholar: she soon learned all the jargon of the alchymists and all the spells of the enchanters; and thus accomplished the hopeful pair set out on their travels, to levy contributions on the superstitious and the credulous. they first went to sleswig on a visit to the count de st. germain, their great predecessor in the art of making dupes, and were received by him in the most magnificent manner. they no doubt fortified their minds for the career they had chosen, by the sage discourse of that worshipful gentleman; for immediately after they left him, they began their operations. they travelled for three or four years in russia, poland, and germany, transmuting metals, telling fortunes, raising spirits, and selling the elixir vitae wherever they went; but there is no record of their doings from whence to draw a more particular detail. it was not until they made their appearance in england in , that the names of the count and countess di cagliostro began to acquire a european reputation. they arrived in london in the july of that year, possessed of property in plate, jewels, and specie to the amount of about three thousand pounds. they hired apartments in whitcombe-street, and lived for some months quietly. in the same house there lodged a portuguese woman named blavary, who, being in necessitous circumstances, was engaged by the count as interpreter. she was constantly admitted into his laboratory, where he spent much of his time in search of the philosopher's stone. she spread abroad the fame of her entertainer in return for his hospitality, and laboured hard to impress everybody with as full a belief in his extraordinary powers as she felt herself. but as a female interpreter of the rank and appearance of madame blavary did not exactly correspond with the count's notions either of dignity or decorum, he hired a person named vitellini, a teacher of languages, to act in that capacity. vitellini was a desperate gambler; a man who had tried almost every resource to repair his ruined fortunes, including among the rest the search for the philosopher's stone. immediately that he saw the count's operations, he was convinced that the great secret was his, and that the golden gates of the palace of fortune were open to let him in. with still more enthusiasm than madame blavary, he held forth to his acquaintance, and in all public places, that the count was an extraordinary man, a true adept, whose fortune was immense, and who could transmute into pure and solid gold, as much lead, iron, and copper as he pleased. the consequence was, that the house of cagliostro was besieged by crowds of the idle, the credulous, and the avaricious, all eager to obtain a sight of the "philosopher," or to share in the boundless wealth which he could call into existence. unfortunately for cagliostro, he had fallen into evil hands; instead of duping the people of england as he might have done, he became himself the victim of a gang of swindlers, who, with the fullest reliance on his occult powers, only sought to make money of him. vitellini introduced to him a ruined gambler like himself, named scot, whom he represented as a scottish nobleman, attracted to london solely by his desire to see and converse with the extraordinary man whose fame had spread to the distant mountains of the north. cagliostro received him with great kindness and cordiality; and "lord" scot thereupon introduced a woman named fry, as lady scot, who was to act as chaperone to the countess di cagliostro, and make her acquainted with all the noble families of britain. thus things went swimmingly. "his lordship," whose effects had not arrived from scotland, and who had no banker in london, borrowed two hundred pounds of the count; they were lent without scruple, so flattered was cagliostro by the attentions they paid him, the respect, nay, veneration they pretended to feel for him, and the complete deference with which they listened to every word that fell from his lips. superstitious, like all desperate gamesters, scot had often tried magical and cabalistic numbers, in the hope of discovering lucky numbers in the lottery, or at the roulette tables. he had in his possession a cabalistic manuscript, containing various arithmetical combinations of the kind, which he submitted to cagliostro, with an urgent request that he would select a number. cagliostro took the manuscript and studied it; but, as he himself informs us, with no confidence in its truth. he however predicted twenty as the successful number for the th of november following. scot ventured a small sum upon this number, out of the two hundred pounds he had borrowed, and won. cagliostro, incited by this success, prognosticated number twenty-five for the next drawing. scot tried again, and won a hundred guineas. the numbers fifty-five and fifty-seven were announced with equal success for the th of the same month, to the no small astonishment and delight of cagliostro, who thereupon resolved to try fortune for himself, and not for others. to all the entreaties of scot and his lady that he would predict more numbers for them, he turned a deaf ear, even while he still thought him a lord and a man of honour. but when he discovered that he was a mere swindler, and the pretended lady scot an artful woman of the town, he closed his door upon them and on all their gang. having complete faith in the supernatural powers of the count, they were in the deepest distress at having lost his countenance. they tried by every means their ingenuity could suggest, to propitiate him again; they implored, they threatened, and endeavoured to bribe him. but all was vain. cagliostro would neither see nor correspond with them. in the mean time they lived extravagantly; and in the hope of future, exhausted all their present gains. they were reduced to the last extremity, when miss fry obtained access to the countess, and received a guinea from her on the representation that she was starving. miss fry, not contented with this, begged her to intercede with her husband, that for the last time he would point out a lucky number in the lottery. the countess promised to exert her influence, and cagliostro thus entreated, named the number eight, at the same time reiterating his determination to have no more to do with any of them. by an extraordinary hazard, which filled cagliostro with surprise and pleasure, number eight was the greatest prize in the lottery. miss fry and her associates cleared fifteen hundred guineas by the adventure; and became more than ever convinced of the occult powers of cagliostro, and strengthened in their determination never to quit him until they had made their fortunes. out of the proceeds, miss fry bought a handsome necklace at a pawnbrokers for ninety guineas. she then ordered a richly chased gold box, having two compartments, to be made at a jeweller's, and putting the necklace in the one, filled the other with a fine aromatic snuff. she then sought another interview with madame di cagliostro, and urged her to accept the box as a small token of her esteem and gratitude, without mentioning the valuable necklace that was concealed in it. madame di cagliostro accepted the present, and was from that hour exposed to the most incessant persecution from all the confederates, blavary, vitellini, and the pretended lord and lady scot. they flattered themselves they had regained their lost footing in the house, and came day after day to know lucky numbers in the lottery; sometimes forcing themselves up the stairs, and into the count's laboratory, in spite of the efforts of the servants to prevent them. cagliostro, exasperated at their pertinacity, threatened to call in the assistance of the magistrates; and taking miss fry by the shoulders, pushed her into the street. from that time may be dated the misfortunes of cagliostro. miss fry, at the instigation of her paramour, determined on vengeance. her first act was to swear a debt of two hundred pounds against cagliostro, and to cause him to be arrested for that sum. while he was in custody in a sponging house, scot, accompanied by a low attorney, broke into his laboratory, and carried off a small box, containing, as they believed, the powder of transmutation, and a number of cabalistic manuscripts and treatises upon alchymy. they also brought an action against him for the recovery of the necklace; and miss fry accused both him and his countess of sorcery and witchcraft, and of foretelling numbers in the lottery by the aid of the devil. this latter charge was actually heard before mr. justice miller. the action of trover for the necklace was tried before the lord chief justice of the common pleas, who recommended the parties to submit to arbitration. in the mean time cagliostro remained in prison for several weeks, till having procured bail, he was liberated. he was soon after waited upon by an attorney named reynolds, also deep in the plot, who offered to compromise all the actions upon certain conditions. scot, who had accompanied him, concealed himself behind the door, and suddenly rushing out, presented a pistol at the heart of cagliostro, swearing he would shoot him instantly, if he would not tell him truly the art of predicting lucky numbers, and of transmuting metals. reynolds pretending to be very angry, disarmed his accomplice, and entreated the count to satisfy them by fair means, and disclose his secrets, promising that if he would do so, they would discharge all the actions, and offer him no further molestation. cagliostro replied, that threats and entreaties were alike useless; that he knew no secrets; and that the powder of transmutation of which they had robbed him, was of no value to anybody but himself. he offered, however, if they would discharge the actions, and return the powder and the manuscripts, he would forgive them all the money they had swindled him out of. these conditions were refused; and scot and reynolds departed, swearing vengeance against him. cagliostro appears to have been quite ignorant of the forms of law in england, and to have been without a friend to advise him as to the best course he should pursue. while he was conversing with his countess on the difficulties that beset them, one of his bail called, and invited him to ride in a hackney coach to the house of a person who would see him righted. cagliostro consented, and was driven to the king's bench prison, where his friend left him. he did not discover for several hours that he was a prisoner, or in fact understand the process of being surrendered by one's bail. he regained his liberty in a few weeks; and the arbitrators between him and miss fry, made their award against him. he was ordered to pay the two hundred pounds she had sworn against him, and to restore the necklace and gold box which had been presented to the countess. cagliostro was so disgusted, that he determined to quit england. his pretensions, besides, had been unmercifully exposed by a frenchman, named morande, the editor of the courier de l'europe, published in london. to add to his distress, he was recognised in westminster hall, as joseph balsamo, the swindler of palermo. such a complication of disgrace was not to be borne. he and his countess packed up their small effects, and left england with no more than fifty pounds, out of the three thousand they had brought with them. they first proceeded to brussels, where fortune was more auspicious. they sold considerable quantities of the elixir of life, performed many cures, and recruited their finances. they then took their course through germany to russia, and always with the same success. gold flowed into their coffers faster than they could count it. they quite forgot all the woes they had endured in england, and learned to be more circumspect in the choice of their acquaintance. in the year , they made their appearance in strasbourg. their fame had reached that city before them. they took a magnificent hotel, and invited all the principal persons of the place to their table. their wealth appeared to be boundless, and their hospitality equal to it. both the count and countess acted as physicians, and gave money, advice, and medicine to all the necessitous and suffering of the town. many of the cures they performed, astonished those regular practitioners who did not make sufficient allowance for the wonderful influence of imagination in certain cases. the countess, who at this time was not more than five-and-twenty, and all radiant with grace, beauty, and cheerfulness, spoke openly of her eldest son as a fine young man of eight-and-twenty, who had been for some years a captain in the dutch service. the trick succeeded to admiration. all the ugly old women in strasbourg, and for miles around, thronged the saloon of the countess to purchase the liquid which was to make them as blooming as their daughters; the young women came in equal abundance that they might preserve their charms, and when twice as old as ninon de l'enclos, be more captivating than she; while men were not wanting fools enough to imagine, that they might keep off the inevitable stroke of the grim foe, by a few drops of the same incomparable elixir. the countess, sooth to say, looked like an incarnation of immortal loveliness, a very goddess of youth and beauty; and it is possible that the crowds of young men and old, who at all convenient seasons haunted the perfumed chambers of this enchantress, were attracted less by their belief in her occult powers than from admiration of her languishing bright eyes and sparkling conversation. but amid all the incense that was offered at her shrine, madame di cagliostro was ever faithful to her spouse. she encouraged hopes, it is true, but she never realised them; she excited admiration, yet kept it within bounds; and made men her slaves, without ever granting a favour of which the vainest might boast. in this city they made the acquaintance of many eminent persons, and among others, of the cardinal prince de rohan, who was destined afterwards to exercise so untoward an influence over their fate. the cardinal, who seems to have had great faith in him as a philosopher, persuaded him to visit paris in his company, which he did, but remained only thirteen days. he preferred the society of strasbourg, and returned thither, with the intention of fixing his residence far from the capital. but he soon found that the first excitement of his arrival had passed away. people began to reason with themselves, and to be ashamed of their own admiration. the populace, among whom he had lavished his charity with a bountiful hand, accused him of being the antichrist, the wandering jew, the man of fourteen hundred years of age, a demon in human shape, sent to lure the ignorant to their destruction; while the more opulent and better informed called him a spy in the pay of foreign governments, an agent of the police, a swindler, and a man of evil life. the outcry grew at last so strong, that he deemed it prudent to try his fortune elsewhere. he went first to naples, but that city was too near palermo; he dreaded recognition from some of his early friends, and after a short stay, returned to france. he chose bordeaux as his next dwelling-place, and created as great a sensation there as he had done in strasbourg. he announced himself as the founder of a new school of medicine and philosophy, boasted of his ability to cure all diseases, and invited the poor and suffering to visit him, and he would relieve the distress of the one class, and cure the ailings of the other. all day long the street opposite his magnificent hotel was crowded by the populace; the halt and the blind, women with sick babes in their arms, and persons suffering under every species of human infirmity flocked to this wonderful doctor. the relief he afforded in money more than counterbalanced the failure of his nostrums; and the affluence of people from all the surrounding country became so great, that the jurats of the city granted him a military guard, to be stationed day and night before his door, to keep order. the anticipations of cagliostro were realised. the rich were struck with admiration of his charity and benevolence, and impressed with a full conviction of his marvellous powers. the sale of the elixir went on admirably. his saloons were thronged with wealthy dupes who came to purchase immortality. beauty, that would endure for centuries, was the attraction for the fair sex; health and strength for the same period were the baits held out to the other. his charming countess in the meantime brought grist to the mill, by telling fortunes and casting nativities, or granting attendant sylphs to any ladies who would pay sufficiently for their services. what was still better, as tending to keep up the credit of her husband, she gave the most magnificent parties in bordeaux. but as at strasbourg the popular delusion lasted for a few months only, and burned itself out; cagliostro forgot, in the intoxication of success, that there was a limit to quackery, which once passed, inspired distrust. when he pretended to call spirits from the tomb, people became incredulous. he was accused of being an enemy to religion--of denying christ, and of being the wandering jew. he despised these rumours as long as they were confined to a few; but when they spread over the town--when he received no more fees--when his parties were abandoned, and his acquaintance turned away when they met him in the street, he thought it high time to shift his quarters. he was by this time wearied of the provinces, and turned his thoughts to the capital. on his arrival, he announced himself as the restorer of egyptian freemasonry and the founder of a new philosophy. he immediately made his way into the best society by means of his friend the cardinal de rohan. his success as a magician was quite extraordinary: the most considerable persons of the time visited him. he boasted of being able, like the rosicrucians, to converse with the elementary spirits; to invoke the mighty dead from the grave, to transmute metals, and to discover occult things, by means of the special protection of god towards him. like dr. dee, he summoned the angels to reveal the future; and they appeared, and conversed with him in crystals and under glass bells. [see the abbe fiard, and "anecdotes of the reign of louis xvi." p. .] "there was hardly," says the biographie des contemporains, "a fine lady in paris who would not sup with the shade of lucretius in the apartments of cagliostro--a military officer who would not discuss the art of war with cesar, hannibal, or alexander; or an advocate or counsellor who would not argue legal points with the ghost of cicero." these interviews with the departed were very expensive; for, as cagliostro said, the dead would not rise for nothing. the countess, as usual, exercised all her ingenuity to support her husband's credit. she was a great favourite with her own sex; to many a delighted and wondering auditory of whom she detailed the marvellous powers of cagliostro. she said he could render himself invisible, traverse the world with the rapidity of thought, and be in several places at the same time. ["biographie des contemporains," article "cagliostro." see also "histoire de la magie en france," par m. jules garinet, p. .] he had not been long at paris before he became involved in the celebrated affair of the queen's necklace. his friend, the cardinal de rohan, enamoured of the charms of marie antoinette, was in sore distress at her coldness, and the displeasure she had so often manifested against him. there was at that time a lady, named la motte, in the service of the queen, of whom the cardinal was foolish enough to make a confidant. madame de la motte, in return, endeavoured to make a tool of the cardinal, and succeeded but too well in her projects. in her capacity of chamber-woman, or lady of honour to the queen, she was present at an interview between her majesty and m. boehmer, a wealthy jeweller of paris, when the latter offered for sale a magnificent diamond necklace, valued at , , francs, or about , pounds sterling. the queen admired it greatly, but dismissed the jeweller, with the expression of her regret that she was too poor to purchase it. madame de la motte formed a plan to get this costly ornament into her own possession, and determined to make the cardinal de rohan the instrument by which to effect it. she therefore sought an interview with him, and pretending to sympathise in his grief for the queen's displeasure, told him she knew a way by which he might be restored to favour. she then mentioned the necklace, and the sorrow of the queen that she could not afford to buy it. the cardinal, who was as wealthy as he was foolish, immediately offered to purchase the necklace, and make a present of it to the queen. madame de la motte told him by no means to do so, as he would thereby offend her majesty. his plan would be to induce the jeweller to give her majesty credit, and accept her promissory note for the amount at a certain date, to be hereafter agreed upon. the cardinal readily agreed to the proposal, and instructed the jeweller to draw up an agreement, and he would procure the queen's signature. he placed this in the hands of madame de la motte, who returned it shortly afterwards, with the words, "bon, bon--approuve--marie antoinette," written in the margin. she told him at the same time that the queen was highly pleased with his conduct in the matter, and would appoint a meeting with him in the gardens of versailles, when she would present him with a flower, as a token of her regard. the cardinal showed the forged document to the jeweller, obtained the necklace, and delivered it into the hands of madame de la motte. so far all was well. her next object was to satisfy the cardinal, who awaited impatiently the promised interview with his royal mistress. there was at that time in paris a young woman named d'oliva, noted for her resemblance to the queen; and madame de la motte, on the promise of a handsome reward, found no difficulty in persuading her to personate marie antoinette, and meet the cardinal de rohan at the evening twilight in the gardens of versailles. the meeting took place accordingly. the cardinal was deceived by the uncertain light, the great resemblance of the counterfeit, and his own hopes; and having received the flower from mademoiselle d'oliva, went home with a lighter heart than had beat in his bosom for many a day. [the enemies of the unfortunate queen of france, when the progress of the revolution embittered their animosity against her, maintained that she was really a party in this transaction; that she, and not mademoiselle d'oliva, met the cardinal and rewarded him with the flower; and that the story above related was merely concocted between her, la motte, and others to cheat the jeweller of his , , francs.] in the course of time the forgery of the queen's signature was discovered. boehmer the jeweller immediately named the cardinal de rohan and madame de la motte as the persons with whom he had negotiated, and they were both arrested and thrown into the bastille. la motte was subjected to a rigorous examination, and the disclosures she made implicating cagliostro, he was seized, along with his wife, and also sent to the bastille, a story involving so much scandal necessarily excited great curiosity. nothing was to be heard of in paris but the queen's necklace, with surmises of the guilt or innocence of the several parties implicated. the husband of madame de la motte escaped to england, and in the opinion of many took the necklace with him, and there disposed of it to different jewellers in small quantities at a time. but madame de la motte insisted that she had entrusted it to cagliostro, who had seized and taken it to pieces, to "swell the treasures of his immense unequalled fortune." she spoke of him as "an empiric, a mean alchymist, a dreamer on the philosopher's stone, a false prophet, a profaner of the true worship, the self-dubbed count cagliostro!" she further said that he originally conceived the project of ruining the cardinal de rohan; that he persuaded her, by the exercise of some magic influence over her mind, to aid and abet the scheme; and that he was a robber, a swindler, and a sorcerer! after all the accused parties had remained for upwards of six months in the bastille, the trial commenced. the depositions of the witnesses having been heard, cagliostro, as the principal culprit, was first called upon for his defence. he was listened to with the most breathless attention. he put himself into a theatrical attitude, and thus began:--"i am oppressed!--i am accused!--i am calumniated! have i deserved this fate? i descend into my conscience, and i there find the peace that men refuse me! i have travelled a great deal--i am known over all europe, and a great part of asia and africa. i have everywhere shown myself the friend of my fellow-creatures. my knowledge, my time, my fortune have ever been employed in the relief of distress! i have studied and practised medicine, but i have never degraded that most noble and most consoling of arts by mercenary speculations of any kind. though always giving, and never receiving, i have preserved my independence. i have even carried my delicacy so far as to refuse the favours of kings. i have given gratuitously my remedies and my advice to the rich: the poor have received from me both remedies and money. i have never contracted any debts, and my manners are pure and uncorrupted." after much more self-laudation of the same kind, he went on to complain of the great hardships he had endured in being separated for so many months from his innocent and loving wife, who, as he was given to understand, had been detained in the bastille, and perhaps chained in an unwholesome dungeon. he denied unequivocally that he had the necklace, or that he had ever seen it; and to silence the rumours and accusations against him, which his own secrecy with regard to the events of his life had perhaps originated, he expressed himself ready to satisfy the curiosity of the public, and to give a plain and full account of his career. he then told a romantic and incredible tale, which imposed upon no one. he said he neither knew the place of his birth nor the name of his parents, but that he spent his infancy in medina in arabia, and was brought up under the name of acharat. he lived in the palace of the great muphti in that city, and always had three servants to wait upon him, besides his preceptor, named althotas. this althotas was very fond of him, and told him that his father and mother, who were christians and nobles, died when he was three months old, and left him in the care of the muphti. he could never, he said, ascertain their names, for whenever he asked althotas the question, he was told that it would be dangerous for him to know. some incautious expressions dropped by his preceptor gave him reason to think they were from malta. at the age of twelve he began his travels, and learned the various languages of the east. he remained three years in mecca, where the cherif, or governor, showed him so much kindness, and spoke to him so tenderly and affectionately, that he sometimes thought that personage was his father. he quitted this good man with tears in his eyes, and never saw him afterwards; but he was convinced that he was, even at that moment, indebted to his care for all the advantages he enjoyed. whenever he arrived in any city, either of europe or asia, he found an account opened for him at the principal bankers' or merchants'. he could draw upon them to the amount of thousands and hundreds of thousands; and no questions were ever asked beyond his name. he had only to mention the word acharat, and all his wants were supplied. he firmly believed that the cherif of mecca was the friend to whom all was owing. this was the secret of his wealth, and he had no occasion to resort to swindling for a livelihood. it was not worth his while to steal a diamond necklace when he had wealth enough to purchase as many as he pleased, and more magnificent ones than had ever been worn by a queen of france. as to the other charges brought against him by madame de la motte, he had but a short answer to give. she had called him an empiric. he was not unfamiliar with the word. if it meant a man who, without being a physician, had some knowledge of medicine, and took no fees--who cured both rich and poor, and took no money from either, he confessed that he was such a man, that he was an empiric. she had also called him a mean alchymist. whether he were an alchymist or not, the epithet mean could only be applied to those who begged and cringed, and he had never done either. as regarded his being a dreamer about the philosopher's stone, whatever his opinions upon that subject might be, he had been silent, and had never troubled the public with his dreams. then, as to his being a false prophet, he had not always been so; for he had prophesied to the cardinal de rohan that madame de la motte would prove a dangerous woman, and the result had verified the prediction. he denied that he was a profaner of the true worship, or that he had ever striven to bring religion into contempt; on the contrary, he respected every man's religion, and never meddled with it. he also denied that he was a rosicrucian, or that he had ever pretended to be three hundred years of age, or to have had one man in his service for a hundred and fifty years. in conclusion, he said every statement that madame de la motte had made regarding him was false, and that she was mentiris impudentissime, which two words he begged her counsel to translate for her, as it was not polite to tell her so in french. such was the substance of his extraordinary answer to the charges against him; an answer which convinced those who were before doubtful that he was one of the most impudent impostors that had ever run the career of deception. counsel were then heard on behalf of the cardinal de rohan and madame de la motte. it appearing clearly that the cardinal was himself the dupe of a vile conspiracy; and there being no evidence against cagliostro, they were both acquitted. madame de la motte was found guilty, and sentenced to be publicly whipped, and branded with a hot iron on the back. cagliostro and his wife were then discharged from custody. on applying to the officers of the bastille for the papers and effects which had been seized at his lodgings, he found that many of them had been abstracted. he thereupon brought an action against them for the recovery of his mss. and a small portion of the powder of transmutation. before the affair could be decided, he received orders to quit paris within four-and-twenty hours. fearing that if he were once more inclosed in the dungeons of the bastille he should never see daylight again, he took his departure immediately and proceeded to england. on his arrival in london he made the acquaintance of the notorious lord george gordon, who espoused his cause warmly, and inserted a letter in the public papers, animadverting upon the conduct of the queen of france in the affair of the necklace, and asserting that she was really the guilty party. for this letter lord george was exposed to a prosecution at the instance of the french ambassador--found guilty of libel, and sentenced to fine and a long imprisonment. cagliostro and the countess afterwards travelled in italy, where they were arrested by the papal government in , and condemned to death. the charges against him were, that he was a freemason, a heretic, and a sorcerer. this unjustifiable sentence was afterwards commuted into one of perpetual imprisonment in the castle of st. angelo. his wife was allowed to escape severer punishment by immuring herself in a nunnery. cagliostro did not long survive. the loss of liberty preyed upon his mind--accumulated misfortunes had injured his health and broken his spirit, and he died early in . his fate may have been no better than he deserved, but it is impossible not to feel that his sentence for the crimes assigned was utterly disgraceful to the government that pronounced it. present state of alchymy. we have now finished the list of the persons who have most distinguished themselves in this foolish and unprofitable pursuit. among them are men of all ranks, characters, and conditions; the truthseeking, but erring philosopher; the ambitious prince and the needy noble, who have believed in it; as well as the designing charlatan, who has not believed in it, but has merely made the pretension to it the means of cheating his fellows, and living upon their credulity. one or more of all these classes will be found in the foregoing pages. it will be seen, from the record of their lives, that the delusion, humiliating as it was to human intellect, was not altogether without its uses. men, in striving to gain too much, do not always overreach themselves: if they cannot arrive at the inaccessible mountain-top, they may, perhaps, get half way towards it, and pick up some scraps of wisdom and knowledge on the road. the useful science of chemistry is not a little indebted to its spurious brother of alchymy. many valuable discoveries have been made in that search for the impossible, which might otherwise have been hidden for centuries yet to come. roger bacon, in searching for the philosopher's stone, discovered gunpowder, a still more extraordinary substance. van helmont, in the same pursuit, discovered the properties of gas; geber made discoveries in chemistry which were equally important; and paracelsus, amidst his perpetual visions of the transmutation of metals, found that mercury was a remedy for one of the most odious and excruciating of all the diseases that afflict humanity. in our day, no mention is made in europe of any new devotees of the science. the belief in witchcraft, which is scarcely more absurd, still lingers in the popular mind: but none are so credulous as to believe that any elixir could make man live for centuries, or turn all our iron and pewter into gold. alchymy, in europe, may be said to be wholly exploded; but in the east it still flourishes in as great repute as ever. recent travellers make constant mention of it, especially in china, hindostan, persia, tartary, egypt, and arabia. book ii.--fortune telling. and men still grope t' anticipate the cabinet designs of fate; apply to wizards to foresee what shall and what shall never be. hudibras, part iii. canto . in accordance with the plan laid down in the introduction to this volume, we proceed to the consideration of the follies into which men have been led by their eager desire to pierce the thick darkness of futurity. god himself, for his own wise purposes, has more than once undrawn the impenetrable veil which shrouds those awful secrets; and, for purposes just as wise, he has decreed that, except in these instances, ignorance shall be our lot for ever. it is happy for man that he does not know what the morrow is to bring forth; but, unaware of this great blessing, he has, in all ages of the world, presumptuously endeavoured to trace the events of unborn centuries, and anticipate the march of time. he has reduced this presumption into a study. he has divided it into sciences and systems without number, employing his whole life in the vain pursuit. upon no subject has it been so easy to deceive the world as upon this. in every breast the curiosity exists in a greater or less degree, and can only be conquered by a long course of self-examination, and a firm reliance that the future would not be hidden from our sight, if it were right that we should be acquainted with it. an undue opinion of our own importance in the scale of creation is at the bottom of all our unwarrantable notions in this respect. how flattering to the pride of man to think that the stars in their courses watch over him, and typify, by their movements and aspects, the joys or the sorrows that await him! he, less in proportion to the universe than the all but invisible insects that feed in myriads on a summer's leaf, are to this great globe itself, fondly imagines that eternal worlds were chiefly created to prognosticate his fate. how we should pity the arrogance of the worm that crawls at our feet, if we knew that it also desired to know the secrets of futurity, and imagined that meteors shot athwart the sky to warn it that a tom-tit was hovering near to gobble it up; that storms and earthquakes, the revolutions of empires, or the fall of mighty monarchs, only happened to, predict its birth, its progress, and its decay! not a whit less presuming has man shown himself; not a whit less arrogant are the sciences, so called, of astrology, augury, necromancy, geomancy, palmistry, and divination of every kind. leaving out of view the oracles of pagan antiquity and religious predictions in general, and confining ourselves solely to the persons who, in modern times, have made themselves most conspicuous in foretelling the future, we shall find that the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries were the golden age of these impostors. many of them have been already mentioned in their character of alchymists. the union of the two pretensions is not at all surprising. it was to be expected that those who assumed a power so preposterous as that of prolonging the life of man for several centuries, should pretend, at the same time, to foretell the events which were to mark that preternatural span of existence. the world would as readily believe that they had discovered all secrets, as that they had only discovered one. the most celebrated astrologers of europe, three centuries ago, were alchymists. agrippa, paracelsus, dr. dee, and the rosicrucians, all laid as much stress upon their knowledge of the days to come, as upon their pretended possession of the philosopher's stone and the elixir of life. in their time, ideas of the wonderful, the diabolical, and the supernatural, were rifer than ever they were before. the devil or the stars were universally believed to meddle constantly in the affairs of men; and both were to be consulted with proper ceremonies. those who were of a melancholy and gloomy temperament betook themselves to necromancy and sorcery; those more cheerful and aspiring, devoted themselves to astrology. the latter science was encouraged by all the monarchs and governments of that age. in england, from the time of elizabeth to that of william and mary, judicial astrology was in high repute. during that period flourished drs. dee, lamb, and forman; with lilly, booker, gadbury, evans, and scores of nameless impostors in every considerable town and village in the country, who made it their business to cast nativities, aid in the recovery of stolen goods, prognosticate happy or unhappy marriages, predict whether journeys would be prosperous, and note lucky moments for the commencement of any enterprise, from the setting up of a cobler's shop to the marching of an army. men who, to use the words of butler, did "deal in destiny's dark counsel, and sage opinion of the moon sell; to whom all people far and near on deep importance did repair, when brass and pewter pots did stray, and linen slunk out of the way." in lilly's memoirs of his life and times, there are many notices of the inferior quacks who then abounded, and upon whom he pretended to look down with supreme contempt; not because they were astrologers, but because they debased that noble art by taking fees for the recovery of stolen property. from butler's hudibras and its curious notes, we may learn what immense numbers of these fellows lived upon the credulity of mankind in that age of witchcraft and diablerie. even in our day how great is the reputation enjoyed by the almanac-makers, who assume the name of francis moore. but in the time of charles i. and the commonwealth, the most learned, the most noble, and the most conspicuous characters did not hesitate to consult astrologers in the most open manner. lilly, whom butler has immortalized under the name of sydrophel, relates, that he proposed to write a work called "an introduction to astrology," in which he would satisfy the whole kingdom of the lawfulness of that art. many of the soldiers were for it, he says, and many of the independent party, and abundance of worthy men in the house of commons, his assured friends, and able to take his part against the presbyterians, who would have silenced his predictions if they could. he afterwards carried his plan into execution, and when his book was published, went with another astrologer named booker to the headquarters of the parliamentary army at windsor, where they were welcomed and feasted in the garden where general fairfax lodged. they were afterwards introduced to the general, who received them very kindly, and made allusion to some of their predictions. he hoped their art was lawful and agreeable to god's word; but he did not understand it himself. he did not doubt, however, that the two astrologers feared god, and therefore he had a good opinion of them. lilly assured him that the art of astrology was quite consonant to the scriptures; and confidently predicted from his knowledge of the stars, that the parliamentary army would overthrow all its enemies. in oliver's protectorate, this quack informs us that he wrote freely enough. he became an independent, and all the soldiery were his friends. when he went to scotland, he saw a soldier standing in front of the army, with a book of prophecies in his hand, exclaiming to the several companies as they passed by him, "lo! hear what lilly saith: you are in this month promised victory! fight it out, brave boys! and then read that month's prediction!" after the great fire of london, which lilly said he had foretold, he was sent for by the committee of the house of commons appointed to inquire into the causes of the calamity. in his "monarchy or no monarchy," published in , he had inserted an hieroglyphical plate, representing on one side persons in winding sheets digging graves; and on the other a large city in flames. after the great fire some sapient member of the legislature bethought him of lilly's book, and having mentioned it in the house, it was agreed that the astrologer should be summoned. lilly attended accordingly, when sir robert brooke told him the reason of his summons, and called upon him to declare what he knew. this was a rare opportunity for the vain-glorious lilly to vaunt his abilities; and he began a long speech in praise of himself and his pretended science. he said, that after the execution of charles i, he was extremely desirous to know what might from that time forth happen to the parliament and to the nation in general. he, therefore, consulted the stars and satisfied himself. the result of his judgment he put into emblems and hieroglyphics, without any commentary, so that the true meaning might be concealed from the vulgar, and made manifest only to the wise; imitating in this the example of many wise philosophers who had done the like. "did you foresee the year of the fire?" said a member. "no!" quoth lilly, "nor was i desirous: of that i made no scrutiny." after some further parley the house found they could make nothing of the astrologer, and dismissed him with great civility. one specimen of the explanation of a prophecy given by lilly, and related by him with much complacency, will be sufficient to show the sort of trash by which he imposed upon the million. "in the year ," says he, "there was a prophecy printed in greek characters, exactly deciphering the long troubles of the english nation from to ;" and it ended thus:--"and after him shall come a dreadful dead man, and with him a royal g, of the best blood in the world, and he shall have the crown, and shall set england on the right way, and put out all heresies." the following is the explanation of this oracular absurdity:-- "monkery being extinguished above eighty or ninety years, and the lord general's name being monk, is the dead man. the royal g. or c, [it is gamma in the greek, intending c. in the latin, being the third letter in the alphabet] is charles ii, who for his extraction may be said to be of the best blood of the world." in france and germany astrologers met even more encouragement than they received in england. in very early ages, charlemagne and his successors fulminated their wrath against them in common with sorcerers. louis xi, that most superstitious of men, entertained great numbers of them at his court; and catherine de medicis, that most superstitious of women, hardly ever took any affair of importance without consulting them. she chiefly favoured her own countrymen; and during the time she governed france, the land was overrun by italian conjurors, necromancers, and fortune-tellers of every kind. but the chief astrologer of that day, beyond all doubt, was the celebrated nostradamus, physician to her husband, king henry ii. he was born in , at the town of st. remi, in provence, where his father was a notary. he did not acquire much fame till he was past his fiftieth year, when his famous "centuries," a collection of verses, written in obscure and almost unintelligible language, began to excite attention. they were so much spoken of in , that henry ii. resolved to attach so skilful a man to his service, and appointed him his physician. in a biographical notice of him prefixed to the edition of his "vraies centuries," published at amsterdam in , we are informed that he often discoursed with his royal master on the secrets of futurity, and received many great presents as his reward, besides his usual allowance for medical attendance. after the death of henry, he retired to his native place, where charles ix. paid him a visit in , and was so impressed with veneration for his wondrous knowledge of the things that were to be, not in france only, but in the whole world for hundreds of years to come, that he made him a counsellor of state, and his own physician, besides treating him in other matters with a royal liberality. "in fine," continues his biographer, "i should be too prolix were i to tell all the honours conferred upon him, and all the great nobles and learned men that arrived at his house, from the very ends of the earth, to see and converse with him as if he had been an oracle. many strangers, in fact, came to france for no other purpose than to consult him." the prophecies of nostradamus consist of upwards of a thousand stanzas, each of four lines, and are to the full as obscure as the oracles of they take so great a latitude, both as to time and space, that they are almost sure to be fulfilled somewhere or other in the course of a few centuries; a little ingenuity like that evinced by lilly, in his explanation about general monk and the dreadful dead man, might easily make events to fit some of them. let us try. in his second century, prediction , he says,--' "from great dangers the captive is escaped. a little time, great fortune changed. in the palace the people are caught. by good augury the city is besieged." "what is this," a believer might exclaim, "but the escape of napoleon from elba--his changed fortune, and the occupation of paris by the allied armies?"--let us try again. in his third century, prediction , he says,-- "two royal brothers will make fierce war on each other; so mortal shall be the strife between them, that each one shall occupy a fort against the other; for their reign and life shall be the quarrel." some lillius redivivus would find no difficulty in this prediction. to use a vulgar phrase, it is as clear as a pikestaff. had not the astrologer in view don miguel and don pedro when he penned this stanza, so much less obscure and oracular than the rest? he is to this day extremely popular in france and the walloon country of belgium, where old farmer-wives consult him with great confidence and assiduity. catherine di medicis was not the only member of her illustrious house who entertained astrologers. at the beginning of the fifteenth century, there was a man named basil, residing in florence, who was noted over all italy for his skill in piercing the darkness of futurity. it is said that he foretold to cosmo di medicis, then a private citizen, that he would attain high dignity, inasmuch as the ascendant of his nativity was adorned with the same propitious aspects as those of augustus caesar and the emperor charles v. [hermippus redivivus, p. .] another astrologer foretold the death of prince alexander di medicis; and so very minute and particular was he in all the circumstances, that he was suspected of being chiefly instrumental in fulfilling his own prophecy; a very common resource with these fellows, to keep up their credit. he foretold confidently that the prince should die by the hand of his own familiar friend, a person of a slender habit of body, a small face, a swarthy complexion, and of most remarkable taciturnity. so it afterwards happened; alexander having been murdered in his chamber by his cousin lorenzo, who corresponded exactly with the above description. [jovii elog. p. .] the author of hermippus redivivus, in relating this story, inclines to the belief that the astrologer was guiltless of any participation in the crime, but was employed by some friend of prince alexander, to warn him of his danger. a much more remarkable story is told of an astrologer, who lived in romagna, in the fifteenth century, and whose name was antiochus tibertus. [les anecdotes de florence ou l'histoire secrete de la maison di medicis, p. .] at that time nearly all the petty sovereigns of italy retained such men in their service; and tibertus having studied the mathematics with great success at paris, and delivered many predictions, some of which, for guesses, were not deficient in shrewdness, was taken into the household of pandolfo di malatesta, the sovereign of rimini. his reputation was so great, that his study was continually thronged, either with visitors who were persons of distinction, or with clients who came to him for advice, and in a short time he acquired a considerable fortune. notwithstanding all these advantages he passed his life miserably, and ended it on the scaffold. the following story afterwards got into circulation, and has been often triumphantly cited by succeeding astrologers as an irrefragable proof of the truth of their science. it was said, that long before he died he uttered three remarkable prophecies; one relating to himself, another to his friend, and the third to his patron, pandolfo di malatesta. the first delivered was that relating to his friend, guido di bogni, one of the greatest captains of the time. guido was exceedingly desirous to know his fortune, and so importuned tibertus, that the latter consulted the stars, and the lines on his palm, to satisfy him. he afterwards told him with a sorrowful face, that according to all the rules of astrology and palmistry, he should be falsely suspected by his best friend, and should lose his life in consequence. guido then asked the astrologer if he could foretell his own fate; upon which tibertus again consulted the stars, and found that it was decreed from all eternity that he should end his days on the scaffold. malatesta, when he heard these predictions, so unlikely, to all present appearance, to prove true, desired his astrologer to predict his fate also; and to hide nothing from him, however unfavourable it might be. tibertus complied, and told his patron, at that time one of the most flourishing and powerful princes of italy, that he should suffer great want, and die at last, like a beggar, in the common hospital of bologna: and so it happened in all three cases. guido di bogni was accused by his own father-in-law, the count di bentivoglio, of a treasonable design to deliver up the city of rimini to the papal forces, and was assassinated afterwards, by order of the tyrant malatesta, as he sat at the supper-table, to which he had been invited in all apparent friendship. the astrologer was, at the same time, thrown into prison, as being concerned in the treason of his friend. he attempted to escape, and had succeeded in letting himself down from his dungeon window into a moat, when he was discovered by the sentinels. this being reported to malatesta, he gave orders for his execution on the following morning. malatesta had, at this time, no remembrance of the prophecy; and his own fate gave him no uneasiness: but events were silently working its fulfilment. a conspiracy had been formed, though guido di bogni was innocent of it, to deliver up rimini to the pope; and all the necessary measures having been taken, the city was seized by the count de valentinois. in the confusion, malatesta had barely time to escape from his palace in disguise. he was pursued from place to place by his enemies, abandoned by all his former friends, and, finally, by his own children. he at last fell ill of a languishing disease, at bologna; and, nobody caring to afford him shelter, he was carried to the hospital, where he died. the only thing that detracts from the interest of this remarkable story is the fact, that the prophecy was made after the event. for some weeks before the birth of louis xiv, an astrologer from germany, who had been sent for by the marshal de bassompierre and other noblemen of the court, had taken up his residence in the palace, to be ready, at a moment's notice, to draw the horoscope of the future sovereign of france. when the queen was taken in labour, he was ushered into a contiguous apartment, that he might receive notice of the very instant the child was born. the result of his observations were the three words, diu, dure, feliciter; meaning, that the new-born prince should live and reign long, with much labour, and with great glory. no prediction less favourable could have been expected from an astrologer, who had his bread to get, and who was at the same time a courtier. a medal was afterwards struck in commemoration of the event; upon one side of which was figured the nativity of the prince, representing him as driving the chariot of apollo, with the inscription "ortus solis gallici,"--the rising of the gallic sun. the best excuse ever made for astrology was that offered by the great astronomer, keppler, himself an unwilling practiser of the art. he had many applications from his friends to cast nativities for them, and generally gave a positive refusal to such as he was not afraid of offending by his frankness. in other cases he accommodated himself to the prevailing delusion. in sending a copy of his "ephemerides" to professor gerlach, he wrote that they were nothing but worthless conjectures; but he was obliged to devote himself to them, or he would have starved. "ye overwise philosophers," he exclaimed, in his "tertius interveniens;" "ye censure this daughter of astronomy beyond her deserts! know ye not that she must support her mother by her charms? the scanty reward of an astronomer would not provide him with bread, if men did not entertain hopes of reading the future in the heavens." necromancy was, next to astrology, the pretended science most resorted to, by those who wished to pry into the future. the earliest instance upon record is that of the witch of endor and the spirit of samuel. nearly all the nations of antiquity believed in the possibility of summoning departed ghosts to disclose the awful secrets that god made clear to the disembodied. many passages in allusion to this subject, will at once suggest themselves to the classical reader; but this art was never carried on openly in any country. all governments looked upon it as a crime of the deepest dye. while astrology was encouraged, and its professors courted and rewarded, necromancers were universally condemned to the stake or the gallows. roger bacon, albertus magnus, arnold of villeneuve, and many others, were accused, by the public opinion of many centuries, of meddling in these unhallowed matters. so deep-rooted has always been the popular delusion with respect to accusations of this kind, that no crime was ever disproved with such toil and difficulty. that it met great encouragement, nevertheless, is evident from the vast numbers of pretenders to it; who, in spite of the danger, have existed in all ages and countries. geomancy, or the art of foretelling the future by means of lines and circles, and other mathematical figures drawn on the earth, is still extensively practised in asiatic countries, but is almost unknown in europe. augury, from the flight or entrails of birds, so favourite a study among the romans, is, in like manner, exploded in europe. its most assiduous professors, at the present day, are the abominable thugs of india. divination, of which there are many kinds, boasts a more enduring reputation. it has held an empire over the minds of men from the earliest periods of recorded history, and is, in all probability, coeval with time itself. it was practised alike by the jews, the egyptians, the chaldeans, the persians, the greeks, and the romans; is equally known to all modern nations, in every part of the world; and is not unfamiliar to the untutored tribes that roam in the wilds of africa and america. divination, as practised in civilized europe at the present day, is chiefly from cards, the tea-cup, and the lines on the palm of the hand. gipsies alone make a profession of it; but there are thousands and tens of thousands of humble families in which the good-wife, and even the good-man, resort to the grounds at the bottom of their teacups, to know whether the next harvest will be abundant, or their sow bring forth a numerous litter; and in which the young maidens look to the same place to know when they are to be married, and whether the man of their choice is to be dark or fair, rich or poor, kind or cruel. divination by cards, so great a favourite among the moderns, is, of course, a modern science; as cards do not yet boast an antiquity of much more than four hundred years. divination by the palm, so confidently believed in by half the village lasses in europe, is of older date, and seems to have been known to the egyptians in the time of the patriarchs; as well as divination by the cup, which, as we are informed in genesis, was practised by joseph. divination by the rod was also practised by the egyptians. in comparatively recent times, it was pretended that by this means hidden treasures could be discovered. it now appears to be altogether exploded in europe. onomancy, or the foretelling a man's fate by the letters of his name, and the various transpositions of which they are capable, is a more modern sort of divination; but it reckons comparatively few believers. the following list of the various species of divination formerly in use, is given by gaule, in his "magastromancer," and quoted in hone's "year book," p. . stareomancy, or divining by the elements. aeromancy, or divining by the air. pyromancy, by fire. hydromancy, by water. geomancy, by earth. theomancy, pretending to divine by the revelation of the spirit, and by the scriptures, or word of god. demonomancy, by the aid of devils and evil spirits. idolomancy, by idols, images, and figures. psychomancy, by the soul, affections, or dispositions of men. antinopomancy, by the entrails of human beings. theriomancy, by beasts. ornithomancy, by birds. icthyomancy, by fishes. botanomancy, by herbs. lithomancy, by stones. kleromancy, by lots. oneiromancy, by dreams. onomancy, by names. arithmancy, by numbers. logarithmancy, by logarithms. sternomancy, by the marks from the breast to the belly. gastromancy, by the sound of, or marks upon, the belly. omphelomancy, by the navel. chiromancy, by the hands. paedomancy, by thee feet. onchyomancy, by the nails. cephaleonomancy, by asses' heads. tuphramancy, by ashes. kapnomancy, by smoke. livanomancy, by the burning of incense. keromancy, by the melting of wax. lecanomancy, by basins of water. katoxtromancy, by looking-glasses. chartomancy, by writing in papers, and by valentines. macharomancy, by knives and swords. crystallomancy, by crystals. dactylomancy, by rings. koseinomancy, by sieves. axinomancy, by saws. kaltabomancy, by vessels of brass, or other metal. spatalamancy, by skins, bones, &c. roadomancy, by stars. sciomancy, by shadows. astragalomancy, by dice. oinomancy, by the lees of wine. sycomancy, by figs. tyromancy, by cheese. alphitomancy, by meal, flour, or bran. krithomancy, by corn or grain. alectromancy, by cocks. gyromancy, by circles. lampadomancy, by candles and lamps. oneiro-criticism, or the art of interpreting dreams, is a relic of the most remote ages, which has subsisted through all the changes that moral or physical revolutions have operated in the world. the records of five thousand years bear abundant testimony to the universal diffusion of the belief, that the skilful could read the future in dreams. the rules of the art, if any existed in ancient times, are not known; but in our day, one simple rule opens the whole secret. dreams, say all the wiseacres in christendom, are to be interpreted by contraries. thus, if you dream of filth, you will acquire something valuable; if you dream of the dead, you will hear news of the living; if you dream of gold and silver, you run a risk of being without either; and if you dream you have many friends, you will be persecuted by many enemies. the rule, however, does not hold good in all cases. it is fortunate to dream of little pigs, but unfortunate to dream of big bullocks. if you dream you have lost a tooth, you may be sure that you will shortly lose a friend; and if you dream that your house is on fire, you will receive news from a far country. if you dream of vermin, it is a sign that there will be sickness in your family; and if you dream of serpents, you will have friends who, in the course of time, will prove your bitterest enemies; but, of all dreams, it is most fortunate if you dream that you are wallowing up to your neck in mud and mire. clear water is a sign of grief; and great troubles, distress, and perplexity are predicted, if you dream that you stand naked in the public streets, and know not where to find a garment to shield you from the gaze of the multitude. in many parts of great britain, and the continents of europe and america, there are to be found elderly women in the villages and country-places whose interpretations of dreams are looked upon with as much reverence as if they were oracles. in districts remote from towns it is not uncommon to find the members of a family regularly every morning narrating their dreams at the breakfast-table, and becoming happy or miserable for the day according to their interpretation. there is not a flower that blossoms, or fruit that ripens, that, dreamed of, is not ominous of either good or evil to such people. every tree of the field or the forest is endowed with a similar influence over the fate of mortals, if seen in the night-visions. to dream of the ash, is the sign of a long journey; and of an oak, prognosticates long life and prosperity. to dream you strip the bark off any tree, is a sign to a maiden of an approaching loss of a character; to a married woman, of a family bereavement; and to a man, of an accession of fortune. to dream of a leafless tree, is a sign of great sorrow; and of a branchless trunk, a sign of despair and suicide. the elder-tree is more auspicious to the sleeper; while the fir-tree, better still, betokens all manner of comfort and prosperity. the lime-tree predicts a voyage across the ocean; while the yew and the alder are ominous of sickness to the young and of death to the old. it is quite astonishing to see the great demand there is, both in england and france, for dream-books, and other trash of the same kind. two books in england enjoy an extraordinary popularity, and have run through upwards of fifty editions in as many years in london alone, besides being reprinted in manchester, edinburgh, glasgow, and dublin. one is "mother bridget's dream-book and oracle of fate;" the other is the "norwood gipsy." it is stated on the authority of one who, is curious in these matters, that there is a demand for these works, which are sold at sums varying from a penny to sixpence, chiefly to servant-girls and imperfectly-educated people, all over the country, of upwards of eleven thousand annually; and that at no period during the last thirty years has the average number sold been less than this. the total number during this period would thus amount to , . among the flowers and fruits charged with messages for the future, the following is a list of the most important, arranged from approved sources, in alphabetical order:-- asparagus, gathered and tied up in bundles, is an omen of tears. if you see it growing in your dreams, it is a sign of good fortune. aloes, without a flower, betoken long life: in flower, betoken a legacy. artichokes. this vegetable is a sign that you will receive, in a short time, a favour from the hands of those from whom you would least expect it. agrimony. this herb denotes that there will be sickness in your house. anemone, predicts love. auriculas, in beds, denote luck; in pots, marriage: while to gather them, foretells widowhood. bilberries, predict a pleasant excursion. broom-flowers, an increase of family. cauliflowers, predict that all your friends will slight you, or that you will fall into poverty and find no one to pity you. dock-leaves, a present from the country. daffodils. any maiden who dreams of daffodils is warned by her good angel to avoid going into a wood with her lover, or into any dark or retired place where she might not be able to make people hear her if she cried out. alas! for her if she pay no attention to the warning! she shall be rifled of the precious flower of chastity, and shall never again have right to wear the garland of virginity. "never again shall she put garland on; instead of it, she'll wear sad cypress now, and bitter elder broken from the bough." figs, if green, betoken embarrassment; if dried, money to the poor and mirth to the rich. heart's-ease, betokens heart's pain. lilies, predict joy; water-lilies, danger from the sea. lemons, betoken a separation. pomegranates, predict happy wedlock to those who are single, and reconciliation to those who are married and have disagreed. quinces, prognosticate pleasant company. roses, denote happy love, not unmixed with sorrow from other sources. sorrel, to dream of this herb is a sign that you will shortly have occasion to exert all your prudence to overcome some great calamity. sunflowers, show that your pride will be deeply wounded. violets, predict evil to the single and joy to the married. yellow-flowers of any kind predict jealousy. yew-berries, predict loss of character to both sexes. it should be observed that the rules for the interpretation of dreams are far from being universal. the cheeks of the peasant girl of england glow with pleasure in the morning after she has dreamed of a rose, while the paysanne of normandy dreads disappointment and vexation for the very same reason. the switzer who dreams of an oaktree does not share in the englishman's joy; for he imagines that the vision was a warning to him that, from some trifling cause, an overwhelming calamity will burst over him. thus do the ignorant and the credulous torment themselves; thus do they spread their nets to catch vexation, and pass their lives between hopes which are of no value and fears which are a positive evil. omens.--among the other means of self-annoyance upon which men have stumbled, in their vain hope of discovering the future, signs and omens hold a conspicuous place. there is scarcely an occurrence in nature which, happening at a certain time, is not looked upon by some persons as a prognosticator either of good or evil. the latter are in the greatest number, so much more ingenious are we in tormenting ourselves than in discovering reasons for enjoyment in the things that surround us. we go out of our course to make ourselves uncomfortable; the cup of life is not bitter enough to our palate, and we distil superfluous poison to put into it, or conjure up hideous things to frighten ourselves at, which would never exist if we did not make them. "we suffer," says addison, ["spectator," no. , march th, - .] "as much from trifling accidents as from real evils. i have known the shooting of a star spoil a night's rest, and have seen a man in love grow pale and lose his appetite upon the plucking of a merrythought. a screech-owl at midnight has alarmed a family more than a band of robbers; nay, the voice of a cricket has struck more terror than the roaring of a lion. there is nothing so inconsiderable which may not appear dreadful to an imagination that is filled with omens and prognostics. a rusty nail or a crooked pin shoot up into prodigies." the century and a quarter that has passed away since addison wrote has seen the fall of many errors. many fallacies and delusions have been crushed under the foot of time since then; but this has been left unscathed, to frighten the weakminded and embitter their existence. a belief in omens is not confined to the humble and uninformed. a general, who led an army with credit, has been known to feel alarmed at a winding-sheet in the candle; and learned men, who had honourably and fairly earned the highest honours of literature, have been seen to gather their little ones around them, and fear that one would be snatched away, because, "when stole upon the time the dead of night, and heavy sleep had closed up mortal eyes," a dog in the street was howling at the moon. persons who would acknowledge freely that the belief in omens was unworthy of a man of sense, have yet confessed at the same time that, in spite of their reason, they have been unable to conquer their fears of death when they heard the harmless insect called the death-watch ticking in the wall, or saw an oblong hollow coal fly out of the fire. many other evil omens besides those mentioned above alarm the vulgar and the weak. if a sudden shivering comes over such people, they believe that, at that instant, an enemy is treading over the spot that will one day be their grave. if they meet a sow when they first walk abroad in the morning, it is an omen of evil for that day. to meet an ass, is in like manner unlucky. it is also very unfortunate to walk under a ladder; to forget to eat goose on the festival of st. michael; to tread upon a beetle, or to eat the twin nuts that are sometimes found in one shell. woe, in like manner, is predicted to that wight who inadvertently upsets the salt; each grain that is overthrown will bring to him a day of sorrow. if thirteen persons sit at table, one of them will die within the year; and all of them will be unhappy. of all evil omens, this is the worst. the facetious dr. kitchener used to observe that there was one case in which he believed that it was really unlucky for thirteen persons to sit down to dinner, and that was when there was only dinner enough for twelve. unfortunately for their peace of mind, the great majority of people do not take this wise view of the matter. in almost every country of europe the same superstition prevails, and some carry it so far as to look upon the number thirteen as in every way ominous of evil; and if they find thirteen coins in their purse, cast away the odd one like a polluted thing. the philosophic beranger, in his exquisite song, "thirteen at table," has taken a poetical view of this humiliating superstition, and mingled, as is his wont, a lesson of genuine wisdom in his lay. being at dinner, he overthrows the salt, and, looking round the room, discovers that he is the thirteenth guest. while he is mourning his unhappy fate, and conjuring up visions of disease and suffering, and the grave, he is suddenly startled by the apparition of death herself, not in the shape of a grim foe, with skeleton ribs and menacing dart, but of an angel of light, who shows the folly of tormenting ourselves with the dread of her approach, when she is the friend, rather than the enemy, of man, and frees us from the fetters which bind us to the dust. if men could bring themselves to look upon death in this manner, living well and wisely till her inevitable approach, how vast a store of grief and vexation would they spare themselves! among good omens, one of the most conspicuous is to meet a piebald horse. to meet two of these animals is still more fortunate; and if on such an occasion you spit thrice, and form any reasonable wish, it will be gratified within three days. it is also a sign of good fortune if you inadvertently put on your stocking wrong side out. if you wilfully wear your stocking in this fashion, no good will come of it. it is very lucky to sneeze twice; but if you sneeze a third time, the omen loses its power, and your good fortune will be nipped in the bud. if a strange dog follow you, and fawn on you, and wish to attach itself to you, it is a sign of very great prosperity. just as fortunate is it if a strange male cat comes to your house and manifests friendly intentions towards your family. if a she eat, it is an omen, on the contrary, of very great misfortune. if a swarm of bees alight in your garden, some very high honour and great joys await you. besides these glimpses of the future, you may know something of your fate by a diligent attention to every itching that you may feel in your body. thus, if the eye or the nose itches, it is a sign you will be shortly vexed; if the foot itches you will tread upon strange ground; and if the elbow itches, you will change your bedfellow. itching of the right-hand prognosticates that you will soon have a sum of money; and of the left, that you will be called upon to disburse it. these are but a few of the omens which are generally credited in modern europe. a complete list of them would fatigue from its length, and sicken from its absurdity. it would be still more unprofitable to attempt to specify the various delusions of the same kind which are believed among oriental nations. every reader will remember the comprehensive formula of cursing preserved in "tristram shandy:"--curse a man after any fashion you remember or can invent, you will be sure to find it there. the oriental creed of omens is not less comprehensive. every movement of the body, every emotion of the mind, is at certain times an omen. every form and object in nature, even the shape of the clouds and the changes of the weather; every colour, every sound, whether of men or animals, or birds or insects, or inanimate things, is an omen. nothing is too trifling or inconsiderable to inspire a hope which is not worth cherishing, or a fear which is sufficient to embitter existence. from the belief in omens springs the superstition that has, from very early ages, set apart certain days, as more favourable than others, for prying into the secrets of futurity. the following, copied verbatim from the popular "dream and omen book" of mother bridget, will show the belief of the people of england at the present day. those who are curious as to the ancient history of these observances, will find abundant aliment in the "every-day book." "the st of january.--if a young maiden drink, on going to bed, a pint of cold spring-water, in which is beat up an amulet, composed of the yolk of a pullet's egg, the legs of a spider, and the skin of an eel pounded, her future destiny will be revealed to her in a dream. this charm fails of its effect if tried any other day of the year. "valentine day.--let a single woman go out of her own door very early in the morning, and if the first person she meets be a woman, she will not be married that year: if she meet a man, she will be married within three months. "lady day.--the following charm may be tried this day with certain success:--string thirty-one nuts on a string, composed of red worsted mixed with blue silk, and tie it round your neck on going to bed, repeating these lines-- 'oh, i wish! oh, i wish to see who my true love is to be!' shortly after midnight, you will see your lover in a dream, and be informed at the same time of all the principal events of your future life. "st. swithin's eve.--select three things you most wish to know; write them down with a new pen and red ink on a sheet of fine-wove paper, from which you must previously cut off all the corners and burn them. fold the paper into a true-lover's knot, and wrap round it three hairs from your head. place the paper under your pillow for three successive nights, and your curiosity to know the future will be satisfied. "st. mark's eve.--repair to the nearest churchyard as the clock strikes twelve, and take from a grave on the south-side of the church three tufts of grass (the longer and ranker the better), and on going to bed place them under your pillow, repeating earnestly three several times, 'the eve of st. mark by prediction is blest, set therefore my hopes and my fears all to rest: let me know my fate, whether weal or woe; whether my rank's to be high or low; whether to live single, or be a bride, and the destiny my star doth provide.' should you have no dream that night, you will be single and miserable all your life. if you dream of thunder and lightning, your life will be one of great difficulty and sorrow. "candlemas eve.--on this night (which is the purification of the virgin mary), let three, five, seven, or nine, young maidens assemble together in a square chamber. hang in each corner a bundle of sweet herbs, mixed with rue and rosemary. then mix a cake of flour, olive-oil, and white sugar; every maiden having an equal share in the making and the expense of it. afterwards, it must be cut into equal pieces, each one marking the piece as she cuts it with the initials of her name. it is then to be baked one hour before the fire, not a word being spoken the whole time, and the maidens sitting with their arms and knees across. each piece of cake is then to be wrapped up in a sheet of paper, on which each maiden shall write the love part of solomon's songs. if she put this under her pillow, she will dream true. she will see her future husband and every one of her children, and will know, besides, whether her family will be poor or prosperous--a comfort to her, or the contrary. "midsummer.--take three roses, smoke them with sulphur, and exactly at three in the day, bury one of the roses under a yew tree; the second in a newly-made grave, and put the third under your pillow for three nights, and at the end of that period burn it in a fire of charcoal. your dreams during that time will be prophetic of your future destiny, and, what is still more curious and valuable (mother bridget loquitur), the man whom you are to wed, will know no peace till he comes and visits you. besides this, you will perpetually haunt his dreams. "st. john's eve.--make a new pincushion of the very best black velvet (no inferior quality will answer the purpose), and on one side stick your name in full length with the very smallest pins that can be bought (none other will do). on the other side, make a cross with some very large pins, and surround it with a circle. put this into your stocking when you take it off at night, and hang it up at the foot of the bed. all your future life will pass before you in a dream. "first new moon of the year.--on the first new moon in the year, take a pint of clear springwater and infuse into it the white of an egg laid by a white hen, a glass of white wine, three almonds peeled white, and a tablespoonful of white rose-water. drink this on going to bed, not making more nor less than three draughts of it; repeating the following verses three several times in a clear distinct voice, but not so loud as to be overheard by anybody:-- 'if i dream of water pure before the coming morn, 'tis a sign i shall be poor, and unto wealth not born. if i dream of tasting beer, middling then will be my cheer-- chequer'd with the good and bad, sometimes joyful, sometimes sad; but should i dream of drinking wine, wealth and pleasure will be mine. the stronger the drink, the better the cheer-- dreams of my destiny, appear, appear!' "twenty-ninth of february.--this day, as it only occurs once in four years, is peculiarly auspicious to those who desire to have a glance at futurity, especially to young maidens burning with anxiety to know the appearance and complexion of their future lords. the charm to be adopted is the following: stick twenty-seven of the smallest pins that are made, three by three, into a tallow candle. light it up at the wrong end, and then place it in a candlestick made out of clay, which must be drawn from a virgin's grave. place this on the chimney-place, in the left-hand corner, exactly as the clock strikes twelve, and go to bed immediately. when the candle is burnt out, take the pins and put them into your left-shoe; and before nine nights have elapsed your fate will be revealed to you." we have now taken a hasty review of the various modes of seeking to discover the future, especially as practised in modern times. the main features of the folly appear essentially the same in all countries. national character and peculiarities operate some difference of interpretation. the mountaineer makes the natural phenomena which he most frequently witnesses prognosticative of the future. the dweller in the plains, in a similar manner, seeks to know his fate among the signs of the things that surround him, and tints his superstition with the hues of his own clime. the same spirit animates them all--the same desire to know that which infinite mercy has concealed. there is but little probability that the curiosity of mankind in this respect will ever be wholly eradicated. death and ill-fortune are continual bugbears to the weak-minded, the irreligious, and the ignorant; and while such exist in the world, divines will preach upon its impiety and philosophers discourse upon its absurdity in vain. still, it is evident that these follies have greatly diminished. soothsayers and prophets have lost the credit they formerly enjoyed, and skulk in secret now where they once showed their faces in the blaze of day. so far there is manifest improvement. book iii.--the magnetisers. some deemed them wondrous wise, and some believed them mad. --beattie's minstrel. the wonderful influence of imagination in the cure of diseases is well known. a motion of the hand, or a glance of the eye, will throw a weak and credulous patient into a fit; and a pill made of bread, if taken with sufficient faith, will operate a cure better than all the drugs in the pharmacopoeia. the prince of orange, at the siege of breda, in , cured all his soldiers who were dying of the scurvy, by a philanthropic piece of quackery, which he played upon them with the knowledge of the physicians, when all other means had failed. [see van der mye's account of the siege of breda. the garrison, being afflicted with scurvy, the prince of orange sent the physicians two or three small phials, containing a decoction of camomile, wormwood, and camphor, telling them to pretend that it was a medicine of the greatest value and extremest rarity, which had been procured with very much danger and difficulty from the east; and so strong, that two or three drops would impart a healing virtue to a gallon of water. the soldiers had faith in their commander; they took the medicine with cheerful faces, and grew well rapidly. they afterwards thronged about the prince in groups of twenty and thirty at a time, praising his skill, and loading him with protestations of gratitude.] many hundreds of instances, of a similar kind, might be related, especially from the history of witchcraft. the mummeries, strange gesticulations, and barbarous jargon of witches and sorcerers, which frightened credulous and nervous women, brought on all those symptoms of hysteria and other similar diseases, so well understood now, but which were then supposed to be the work of the devil, not only by the victims and the public in general, but by the operators themselves. in the age when alchymy began to fall into some disrepute, and learning to lift up its voice against it, a new delusion, based upon this power of imagination, suddenly arose, and found apostles among all the alchymists. numbers of them, forsaking their old pursuits, made themselves magnetisers. it appeared first in the shape of mineral, and afterwards of animal, magnetism, under which latter name it survives to this day, and numbers its dupes by thousands. the mineral magnetisers claim the first notice, as the worthy predecessors of the quacks of the present day. the honour claimed for paracelsus of being the first of the rosicrucians has been disputed; but his claim to be considered the first of the magnetisers can scarcely be challenged. it has been already mentioned of him, in the part of this work which treats of alchymy, that, like nearly all the distinguished adepts, he was a physician; and pretended, not only to make gold and confer immortality, but to cure all diseases. he was the first who, with the latter view, attributed occult and miraculous powers to the magnet. animated apparently by a sincere conviction that the magnet was the philosopher's stone, which, if it could not transmute metals, could soothe all human suffering and arrest the progress of decay, he travelled for many years in persia and arabia, in search of the mountain of adamant, so famed in oriental fables. when he practised as a physician at basle, he called one of his nostrums by the name of azoth--a stone or crystal, which, he said, contained magnetic properties, and cured epilepsy, hysteria, and spasmodic affections. he soon found imitators. his fame spread far and near; and thus were sown the first seeds of that error which has since taken root and flourished so widely. in spite of the denial of modern practitioners, this must be considered the origin of magnetism; for we find that, beginning with paracelsus, there was a regular succession of mineral magnetisers until mesmer appeared, and gave a new feature to the delusion. paracelsus boasted of being able to transplant diseases from the human frame into the earth, by means of the magnet. he said there were six ways by which this might be effected. one of them will be quite sufficient, as a specimen. "if a person suffer from disease, either local or general, let the following remedy be tried. take a magnet, impregnated with mummy [mummies were of several kinds, and were all of great use in magnetic medicines. paracelsus enumerates six kinds of mummies; the first four only differing in the composition used by different people for preserving their dead, are the egyptian, arabian, pisasphaltos, and lybian. the fifth mummy of peculiar power was made from criminals that had been hanged; "for from such there is a gentle siccation, that expungeth the watery humour, without destroying the oil and spirituall, which is cherished by the heavenly luminaries, and strengthened continually by the affluence and impulses of the celestial spirits; whence it may be properly called by the name of constellated or celestial mummie." the sixth kind of mummy was made of corpuscles, or spiritual effluences, radiated from the living body; though we cannot get very clear ideas on this head, or respecting the manner in which they were caught.--"medicina diatastica; or, sympathetical mummie, abstracted from the works of paracelsus, and translated out of the latin, by fernando parkhurst, gent." london, . pp. . . quoted by the "foreign quarterly review," vol. xii. p. .] and mixed with rich earth. in this earth sow some seeds that have a congruity or homogeneity with the disease: then let this earth, well sifted and mixed with mummy, be laid in an earthen vessel; and let the seeds committed to it be watered daily with a lotion in which the diseased limb or body has been washed. thus will the disease be transplanted from the human body to the seeds which are in the earth. having done this, transplant the seeds from the earthen vessel to the ground, and wait till they begin to sprout into herbs: as they increase, the disease will diminish; and when they have arrived at their full growth, it will disappear altogether." kircher the jesuit, whose quarrel with the alchymists was the means of exposing many of their impostures, was a firm believer in the efficacy of the magnet. having been applied to by a patient afflicted with hernia, he directed the man to swallow a small magnet reduced to powder, while he applied, at the same time, to the external swelling a poultice, made of filings of iron. he expected that by this means the magnet, when it got to the corresponding place inside, would draw in the iron, and with it the tumour; which would thus, he said, be safely and expeditiously reduced. as this new doctrine of magnetism spread, it was found that wounds inflicted with any metallic substance could be cured by the magnet. in process of time the delusion so increased, that it was deemed sufficient to magnetise a sword, to cure any hurt which that sword might have inflicted! this was the origin of the celebrated "weapon-salve," which excited so much attention about the middle of the seventeenth century. the following was the recipe given by paracelsus for the cure of any wounds inflicted by a sharp weapon, except such as had penetrated the heart, the brain, or the arteries. "take of moss growing on the head of a thief who has been hanged and left in the air; of real mummy; of human blood, still warm--of each, one ounce; of human suet, two ounces; of linseed oil, turpentine, and armenian bole--of each, two drachms. mix all well in a mortar, and keep the salve in an oblong, narrow urn." with this salve the weapon, after being dipped in the blood from the wound, was to be carefully anointed, and then laid by in a cool place. in the mean time, the wound was to be duly washed with fair clean water, covered with a clean, soft, linen rag, and opened once a day to cleanse off purulent or other matter. of the success of this treatment, says the writer of the able article on animal magnetism, in the twelfth volume of the "foreign quarterly review," there cannot be the least doubt; "for surgeons at this moment follow exactly the same method, except anointing the weapon! the weapon salve continued to be much spoken of on the continent, and many eager claimants appeared for the honour of the invention. dr. fludd, or a fluctibus, the rosicrucian, who has been already mentioned in a previous part of this volume, was very zealous in introducing it into england. he tried it with great success in several cases; and no wonder; for, while he kept up the spirits of his patients by boasting of the great efficacy of the salve, he never neglected those common, but much more important remedies, of washing, bandaging, &c. which the experience of all ages had declared sufficient for the purpose. fludd, moreover, declared, that the magnet was a remedy for all diseases, if properly applied; but that man having, like the earth, a north and a south pole, magnetism could only take place when his body was in a boreal position! in the midst of his popularity, an attack was made upon him and his favourite remedy, the salve; which, however, did little or nothing to diminish the belief in its efficacy. one "parson foster" wrote a pamphlet, entitled "hyplocrisma spongus; or, a spunge to wipe away the weapon-salve;" in which he declared, that it was as bad as witchcraft to use or recommend such an unguent; that it was invented by the devil, who, at the last day, would seize upon every person who had given it the slightest encouragement. "in fact," said parson foster, "the devil himself gave it to paracelsus; paracelsus to the emperor; the emperor to the courtier; the courtier to baptista porta; and baptista porta to dr. fludd, a doctor of physic, yet living and practising in the famous city of london, who now stands tooth and nail for it." dr. fludd, thus assailed, took up the pen in defence of his unguent, in a reply called "the squeezing of parson foster's spunge; wherein the spunge-bearer's immodest carriage and behaviour towards his brethren is detected; the bitter flames of his slanderous reports are, by the sharp vinegar of truth, corrected and quite extinguished; and, lastly, the virtuous validity of his spunge in wiping away the weapon-salve, is crushed out and clean abolished." shortly after this dispute a more distinguished believer in the weapon-salve made his appearance, in the person of sir kenelm digby, the son of sir everard digby, who was executed for his participation in the gunpowder plot. this gentleman, who, in other respects, was an accomplished scholar and an able man, was imbued with all the extravagant notions of the alchymists. he believed in the philosopher's stone, and wished to engage descartes to devote his energies to the discovery of the elixir of life, or some other means by which the existence of man might be prolonged to an indefinite period. he gave his wife, the beautiful venetia anastasia stanley, a dish of capons, fed upon vipers, according to the plan supposed to have been laid down by arnold of villeneuve, in the hope that she might thereby preserve her loveliness for a century. if such a man once took up the idea of the weapon-salve, it was to be expected that he would make the most of it. in his hands, however, it was changed from an unguent into a powder, and was called the powder of sympathy. he pretended that he had acquired the knowledge of it from a carmelite friar, who had learned it in persia or armenia, from an oriental philosopher of great renown. king james, the prince of wales, the duke of buckingham, and many other noble personages, believed in its efficacy. the following remarkable instance of his mode of cure was read by sir kenelm to a society of learned men at montpellier. mr. james howell, the well-known author of the "dendrologia," and of various letters, coming by chance as two of his best friends were fighting a duel, rushed between them, and endeavoured to part them. he seized the sword of one of the combatants by the hilt, while, at the same time, he grasped the other by the blade. being transported with fury one against the other, they struggled to rid themselves of the hindrance caused by their friend; and in so doing, the one whose sword was held by the blade by mr. howell, drew it away roughly, and nearly cut his hand off, severing the nerves and muscles, and penetrating to the bone. the other, almost at the same instant, disengaged his sword, and aimed a blow at the head of his antagonist, which mr. howell observing, raised his wounded hand with the rapidity of thought, to prevent the blow. the sword fell on the back of his already wounded hand, and cut it severely. "it seemed," said sir kenelm digby, "as if some unlucky star raged over them, that they should have both shed the blood of that dear friend, for whose life they would have given their own, if they had been in their proper mind at the time." seeing mr. howell's face all besmeared with blood from his wounded hand, they both threw down their swords and embraced him, and bound up his hand with a garter, to close the veins, which were cut, and bled profusely. they then conveyed him home, and sent for a surgeon. king james, who was much attached to mr. howell, afterwards sent his own surgeon to attend him. we must continue the narrative in the words of sir kenelm digby:-- "it was my chance," says he, "to be lodged hard by him: and, four or five days after, as i was making myself ready, he came to my house, and prayed me to view his wounds; 'for i understand,' said he, 'that you have extraordinary remedies on such occasions; and my surgeons apprehend some fear, that it may grow to a gangrene, and so the hand must be cut off.' in effect, his countenance discovered that he was in much pain, which, he said, was insupportable, in regard of the extreme inflammation. i told him i would willingly serve him; but if, haply, he knew the manner how i could cure him, without touching or seeing him, it might be that he would not expose himself to my manner of curing; because he would think it, peradventure, either ineffectual or superstitious. he replied, 'the many wonderful things which people have related unto me of your way of medicinement, makes me nothing doubt at all of its efficacy; and all that i have to say unto you is comprehended in the spanish proverb, hagase el milagro y hagalo mahoma--let the miracle be done, though mahomet do it.' "i asked him then for anything that had the blood upon it: so he presently sent for his garter, wherewith his hand was first bound; and, as i called for a basin of water, as if i would wash my hands, i took a handful of powder of vitriol, which i had in my study, and presently dissolved it. as soon as the bloody garter was brought me, i put it in the basin, observing, in the interim, what mr. howell did, who stood talking with a gentleman in a corner of my chamber, not regarding at all what i was doing. he started suddenly, as if he had found some strange alteration in himself. i asked him what he ailed? 'i know not what ails me; but i find that i feel no more pain. methinks that a pleasing kind of freshness, as it were a wet cold napkin, did spread over my hand, which hath taken away the inflammation that tormented me before.' i replied, 'since, then, you feel already so much good of my medicament, i advise you to cast away all your plasters; only keep the wound clean, and in a moderate temper, betwixt heat and cold.' this was presently reported to the duke of buckingham, and a little after, to the king, who were both very curious to know the circumstances of the business; which was, that after dinner, i took the garter out of the water, and put it to dry before a great fire. it was scarce dry before mr. howell's servant came running, and saying that his master felt as much burning as ever he had done, if not more; for the heat was such as if his hand were betwixt coals of fire. i answered, that although that had happened at present, yet he should find ease in a short time; for i knew the reason of this new accident, and would provide accordingly; for his master should be free from that inflammation, it might be, before he could possibly return to him: but, in case he found no ease, i wished him to come presently back again; if not, he might forbear coming. thereupon he went; and, at the instant, i did put the garter again into the water; thereupon he found his master without any pain at all. to be brief, there was no sense of pain afterwards; but within five or six days, the wounds were cicatrised and entirely healed." such is the marvellous story of sir kenelm digby. other practitioners of that age were not behind him in absurdity. it was not always necessary to use either the powder of sympathy, or the weapon-salve, to effect a cure. it was sufficient to magnetise the sword with the hand (the first faint dawn of the animal theory), to relieve any pain the same weapon had caused. they pretended, that if they stroked the sword upwards with their fingers, the wounded person would feel immediate relief; but if they stroked it downwards, he would feel intolerable pain.[reginald scott, quoted by sir walter scott, in the notes to the "lay of the last minstrel," c. iii. v. xxiii.] another very strange notion of the power and capabilities of magnetism was entertained at the same time. it was believed that a sympathetic alphabet could be made on the flesh, by means of which persons could correspond with each other, and communicate all their ideas with the rapidity of volition, although thousands of miles apart. from the arms of two persons a piece of flesh was cut, and mutually transplanted, while still warm and bleeding. the piece so severed grew to the new arm on which it was placed; but still retained so close a sympathy with its native limb, that its old possessor was always sensible of any injury done to it. upon these transplanted pieces were tattooed the letters of the alphabet; so that, when a communication was to be made, either of the persons, though the wide atlantic rolled between them, had only to prick his arm with a magnetic needle, and straightway his friend received intimation that the telegraph was at work. whatever letter he pricked on his own arm pained the same letter on the arm of his correspondent. ["foreign quarterly review," vol. xii. p. .] who knows but this system, if it had received proper encouragement, might not have rendered the post-office unnecessary, and even obviated much of the necessity for railroads? let modern magnetisers try and bring it to perfection. it is not more preposterous than many of their present notions; and, if carried into effect, with the improvement of some stenographical expedient for diminishing the number of punctures, would be much more useful than their plan of causing persons to read with their great toes, [wirth's "theorie des somnambulismes," p. .] or seeing, with their eyes shut, into other people's bodies, and counting the number of arteries therein. ["report of the academic royale de medicine,"--case of mademoiselle celine sauvage, p. .] contemporary with sir kenelm digby, was the no less famous mr. valentine greatraks who, without mentioning magnetism, or laying claim to any theory, practised upon himself and others a deception much more akin to the animal magnetism of the present day, than the mineral magnetism it was then so much the fashion to study. he was the son of an irish gentleman, of good education and property, in the county of cork. he fell, at an early age, into a sort of melancholy derangement. after some time, he had an impulse, or strange persuasion in his mind, which continued to present itself, whether he were sleeping or waking, that god had given him the power of curing the king's evil. he mentioned this persuasion to his wife, who very candidly told him that he was a fool! he was not quite sure of this, notwithstanding the high authority from which it came, and determined to make trial of the power that was in him. a few days afterwards, he went to one william maher, of saltersbridge, in the parish of lismore, who was grievously afflicted with the king's evil in his eyes, cheek, and throat. upon this man, who was of abundant faith, he laid his hands, stroked him, and prayed fervently. he had the satisfaction to see him heal considerably in the course of a few days; and, finally, with the aid of other remedies, to be quite cured. this success encouraged him in the belief that he had a divine mission. day after day he had further impulses from on high, that he was called upon to cure the ague also. in the course of time he extended his powers to the curing of epilepsy, ulcers, aches, and lameness. all the county of cork was in a commotion to see this extraordinary physician, who certainly operated some very great benefit in cases where the disease was heightened by hypochondria and depression of spirits. according to his own account, [greatraks' account of himself, in a letter to the honourable robert boyle.] such great multitudes resorted to him from divers places, that he had no time to follow his own business, or enjoy the company of his family and friends. he was obliged to set aside three days in the week, from six in the morning till six at night, during which time only he laid hands upon all that came. still the crowds which thronged around him were so great, that the neighbouring towns were not able to accommodate them. he thereupon left his house in the country, and went to youghal, where the resort of sick people, not only from all parts of ireland, but from england, continued so great, that the magistrates were afraid they would infect the place by their diseases. several of these poor credulous people no sooner saw him than they fell into fits, and he restored them by waving his hand in their faces, and praying over them. nay, he affirmed, that the touch of his glove had driven pains away, and, on one occasion, cast out from a woman several devils, or evil spirits, who tormented her day and night. "every one of these devils," says greatraks, "was like to choke her, when it came up into her throat." it is evident, from this, that the woman's complaint was nothing but hysteria. the clergy of the diocese of lismore, who seem to have had much clearer notions of greatraks' pretensions than their parishioners, set their faces against the new prophet and worker of miracles. he was cited to appear in the dean's court, and prohibited from laying on his hands for the future: but he cared nothing for the church. he imagined that he derived his powers direct from heaven, and continued to throw people into fits, and bring them to their senses again, as usual, almost exactly after the fashion of modern magnetisers. his reputation became, at last, so great, that lord conway sent to him from london, begging-that he would come over immediately, to cure a grievous head-ache which his lady had suffered for several years, and which the principal physicians of england had been unable to relieve. greatraks accepted the invitation, and tried his manipulations and prayers upon lady conway. he failed, however, in affording any relief. the poor lady's head-ache was excited by causes too serious to allow her any help, even from faith and a lively imagination. he lived for some months in lord conway's house, at ragley, in warwickshire, operating cures similar to those he had performed in ireland. he afterwards removed to london, and took a house in lincoln's inn fields, which soon became the daily resort of all the nervous and credulous women of the metropolis. a very amusing account of greatraks at this time ( ), is given in the second volume of the "miscellanies of st. evremond," under the title of the irish prophet. it is the most graphic sketch ever made of this early magnetiser. whether his pretensions were more or less absurd than those of some of his successors, who have lately made their appearance among us, would be hard to say. "when m. de comminges," says st. evremond, "was ambassador from his most christian majesty to the king of great britain, there came to london an irish prophet, who passed himself off as a great worker of miracles. some persons of quality having begged m. de comminges to invite him to his house, that they might be witnesses of some of his miracles, the ambassador promised to satisfy them, as much from his own curiosity as from courtesy to his friends; and gave notice to greatraks that he would be glad to see him. "a rumour of the prophet's coming soon spread all over the town, and the hotel of m. de comminges was crowded by sick persons, who came full of confidence in their speedy cure. the irishman made them wait a considerable time for him, but came at last, in the midst of their impatience, with a grave and simple countenance, that showed no signs of his being a cheat. monsieur de comminges prepared to question him strictly, hoping to discourse with him on the matters that he had read of in van helmont and bodinus; but he was not able to do so, much to his regret, for the crowd became so great, and cripples and others pressed around so impatiently to be the first cured, that the servants were obliged to use threats, and even force, before they could establish order among them, or place them in proper ranks. "the prophet affirmed that all diseases were caused by evil spirits. every infirmity was with him a case of diabolical possession. the first that was presented to him was a man suffering from gout and rheumatism, and so severely that the physicians had been unable to cure him. 'ah,' said the miracle-worker, 'i have seen a good deal of this sort of spirits when i was in ireland. they are watery spirits, who bring on cold shivering, and excite an overflow of aqueous humours in our poor bodies.' then addressing the man, he said, 'evil spirit, who hast quitted thy dwelling in the waters to come and afflict this miserable body, i command thee to quit thy new abode, and to return to thine ancient habitation!' this said, the sick man was ordered to withdraw, and another was brought forward in his place. this new comer said he was tormented by the melancholy vapours. in fact, he looked like a hypochondriac; one of those persons diseased in imagination, and who but too often become so in reality. 'aerial spirit,' said the irishman, 'return, i command thee, into the air!--exercise thy natural vocation of raising tempests, and do not excite any more wind in this sad unlucky body!' this man was immediately turned away to make room for a third patient, who, in the irishman's opinion, was only tormented by a little bit of a sprite, who could not withstand his command for an instant. he pretended that he recognized this sprite by some marks which were invisible to the company, to whom he turned with a smile, and said, 'this sort of spirit does not often do much harm, and is always very diverting.' to hear him talk, one would have imagined that he knew all about spirits--their names, their rank, their numbers, their employment, and all the functions they were destined to; and he boasted of being much better acquainted with the intrigues of demons than he was with the affairs of men. you can hardly imagine what a reputation he gained in a short time. catholics and protestants visited him from every part, all believing that power from heaven was in his hands." after relating a rather equivocal adventure of a husband and wife, who implored greatraks to cast out the devil of dissension which had crept in between them, st. evremond thus sums up the effect he produced on the popular mind:--"so great was the confidence in him, that the blind fancied they saw the light which they did not see--the deaf imagined that they heard--the lame that they walked straight, and the paralytic that they had recovered the use of their limbs. an idea of health made the sick forget for a while their maladies; and imagination, which was not less active in those merely drawn by curiosity than in the sick, gave a false view to the one class, from the desire of seeing, as it operated a false cure on the other from the strong desire of being healed. such was the power of the irishman over the mind, and such was the influence of the mind upon the body. nothing was spoken of in london but his prodigies; and these prodigies were supported by such great authorities, that the bewildered multitude believed them almost without examination, while more enlightened people did not dare to reject them from their own knowledge. the public opinion, timid and enslaved, respected this imperious and, apparently, well-authenticated error. those who saw through the delusion kept their opinion to themselves, knowing how useless it was to declare their disbelief to a people filled with prejudice and admiration." about the same time that valentine greatraks was thus magnetising the people of london, an italian enthusiast, named francisco bagnone, was performing the same tricks in italy, and with as great success. he had only to touch weak women with his hands, or sometimes (for the sake of working more effectively upon their fanaticism) with a relic, to make them fall into fits and manifest all the symptoms of magnetism. besides these, several learned men, in different parts of europe, directed their attention to the study of the magnet, believing it might be rendered efficacious in many diseases. van helmont, in particular, published a work on the effects of magnetism on the human frame; and balthazar gracian, a spaniard, rendered himself famous for the boldness of his views on the subject. "the magnet," said the latter, "attracts iron; iron is found everywhere; everything, therefore, is under the influence of magnetism. it is only a modification of the general principle, which establishes harmony or foments divisions among men. it is the same agent which gives rise to sympathy, antipathy, and the passions." ["introduction to the study of animal magnetism," by baron dupotet de sennevoy, p. .] baptista porta, who, in the whimsical genealogy of the weapon-salve, given by parson foster in his attack upon dr. a fluctibus, is mentioned as one of its fathers, had also great faith in the efficacy of the magnet, and operated upon the imagination of his patients in a manner which was then considered so extraordinary that he was accused of being a magician, and prohibited from practising by the court of rome. among others who distinguished themselves by their faith in magnetism, sebastian wirdig and william maxwell claim especial notice. wirdig was professor of medicine at the university of rostock in mecklenburgh, and wrote a treatise called "the new medicine of the spirits," which he presented to the royal society of london. an edition of this work was printed in , in which the author maintained that a magnetic influence took place, not only between the celestial and terrestrial bodies, but between all living things. the whole world, he said, was under the influence of magnetism: life was preserved by magnetism; death was the consequence of magnetism! maxwell, the other enthusiast, was an admiring disciple of paracelsus, and boasted that he had irradiated the obscurity in which too many of the wonder-working recipes of that great philosopher were enveloped. his works were printed at frankfort, in . it would seem, from the following passage, that he was aware of the great influence of imagination, as well in the production as in the cure of diseases. "if you wish to work prodigies," says he, "abstract from the materiality of beings--increase the sum of spirituality in bodies--rouse the spirit from its slumbers. unless you do one or other of these things--unless you can bind the idea, you can never perform anything good or great." here, in fact, lies the whole secret of magnetism, and all delusions of a similar kind: increase the spirituality--rouse the spirit from its slumbers, or in other words, work upon the imagination--induce belief and blind confidence, and you may do anything. this passage, which is quoted with approbation by m. dupotet in a recent work ["introduction to the study of animal magnetism," p. .] as strongly corroborative of the theory now advanced by the animal-magnetists, is just the reverse. if they believe they can work all their wonders by the means so dimly shadowed forth by maxwell, what becomes of the universal fluid pervading all nature, and which they pretend to pour into weak and diseased bodies from the tips of their fingers? early in the eighteenth century, the attention of europe was directed to a very remarkable instance of fanaticism, which has been claimed by the animal magnetists, as a proof of their science. the convulsionaries of st. medard, as they were called, assembled in great numbers round the tomb of their favourite saint, the jansenist priest paris, and taught one another how to fall into convulsions. they believed that st. paris would cure all their infirmities; and the number of hysterical women and weak-minded persons of all descriptions that flocked to the tomb from far and near was so great, as daily to block up all the avenues leading to the spot. working themselves up to a pitch of excitement, they went off one after the other into fits, while some of them, still in apparent possession of all their faculties, voluntarily exposed themselves to sufferings, which on ordinary occasions would have been sufficient to deprive them of life. the scenes that occurred were a scandal to civilization and to religion--a strange mixture of obscenity, absurdity, and superstition. while some were praying on bended knees at the shrine of st. paris, others were shrieking and making the most hideous noises. the women especially exerted themselves. on one side of the chapel there might be seen a score of them, all in convulsions, while at another as many more, excited to a sort of frenzy, yielded themselves up to gross indecencies. some of them took an insane delight in being beaten and trampled upon. one in particular, according to montegre, whose account we quote [dictionnaire des sciences medicales--article "convulsionnaires," par montegre.] was so enraptured with this ill usage, that nothing but the hardest blows would satisfy her. while a fellow of herculean strength was beating her with all his might with a heavy bar of iron, she kept continually urging him to renewed exertion. the harder he struck the better she liked it, exclaiming all the while, "well done, brother; well done; oh, how pleasant it is! what good you are doing me! courage, my brother, courage; strike harder; strike harder still!" another of these fanatics had, if possible, a still greater love for a beating. carre de montgeron, who relates the circumstance, was unable to satisfy her with sixty blows of a large sledge hammer. he afterwards used the same weapon, with the same degree of strength, for the sake of experiment, and succeeded in battering a hole in a stone wall at the twenty-fifth stroke. another woman, named sonnet, laid herself down on a red-hot brazier without flinching, and acquired for herself the nickname of the salamander; while others, desirous of a more illustrious martyrdom, attempted to crucify themselves. m. deleuze, in his critical history of animal magnetism, attempts to prove that this fanatical frenzy was produced by magnetism, and that these mad enthusiasts magnetised each other without being aware of it. as well might he insist that the fanaticism which tempts the hindoo bigot to keep his arms stretched in a horizontal position till the sinews wither, or his fingers closed upon his palms till the nails grow out of the backs of his hands, is also an effect of magnetism! for a period of sixty or seventy years, magnetism was almost wholly confined to germany. men of sense and learning devoted their attention to the properties of the loadstone; and one father hell, a jesuit, and professor of astronomy at the university of vienna, rendered himself famous by his magnetic cures. about the year or , he invented steel plates of a peculiar form, which he applied to the naked body, as a cure for several diseases. in the year , he communicated his system to anthony mesmer. the latter improved upon the ideas of father hell, constructed a new theory of his own, and became the founder of animal magnetism. it has been the fashion among the enemies of the new delusion to decry mesmer as an unprincipled adventurer, while his disciples have extolled him to the skies as a regenerator of the human race. in nearly the same words, as the rosicrucians applied to their founders, he has been called the discoverer of the secret which brings man into more intimate connexion with his creator; the deliverer of the soul from the debasing trammels of the flesh; the man who enables us to set time at defiance, and conquer the obstructions of space. a careful sifting of his pretensions--and examination of the evidence brought forward to sustain them, will soon show which opinion is the more correct. that the writer of these pages considers him in the light of a man, who deluding himself, was the means of deluding others, may be inferred from his finding a place in these volumes, and figuring among the flamels, the agrippas, the borris, the boehmens, and the cagliostros. he was born in may , at mersburg, in swabia, and studied medicine at the university of vienna. he took his degrees in , and chose the influence of the planets on the human body as the subject of his inaugural dissertation. having treated the matter quite in the style of the old astrological physicians, he was exposed to some ridicule both then and afterwards. even at this early period some faint ideas of his great theory were germinating in his mind. he maintained in his dissertation, "that the sun, moon, and fixed stars mutually affect each other in their orbits; that they cause and direct in our earth a flux and reflux not only in the sea, but in the atmosphere, and affect in a similar manner all organized bodies through the medium of a subtile and mobile fluid, which pervades the universe and associates all things together in mutual intercourse and harmony." this influence, he said, was particularly exercised on the nervous system, and produced two states which he called intension and remission, which seemed to him to account for the different periodical revolutions observable in several maladies. when in after-life he met with father hell, he was confirmed by that person's observations in the truth of many of his own ideas. having caused hell to make him some magnetic plates, he determined to try experiments with them himself for his further satisfaction. he tried accordingly, and was astonished at his success. the faith of their wearers operated wonders with the metallic plates. mesmer made due reports to father hell of all he had done, and the latter published them as the results of his own happy invention, and speaking of mesmer as a physician whom he had employed to work under him. mesmer took offence at being thus treated, considering himself a far greater personage than father hell. he claimed the invention as his own, accused hell of a breach of confidence, and stigmatized him as a mean person, anxious to turn the discoveries of others to his own account. hell replied, and a very pretty quarrel was the result, which afforded small talk for months to the literati of vienna. hell ultimately gained the victory. mesmer, nothing daunted, continued to promulgate his views, till he stumbled at last upon the animal theory. one of his patients was a young lady named oesterline, who suffered under a convulsive malady. her attacks were periodical, and attended by a rush of blood to the head, followed by delirium and syncope. these symptoms he soon succeeded in reducing under his system of planetary influence, and imagined he could foretell the periods of accession and remission. having thus accounted satisfactorily to himself for the origin of the disease, the idea struck him that he could operate a certain cure, if he could ascertain beyond doubt what he had long believed, that there existed between the bodies which compose our globe, an action equally reciprocal and similar to that of the heavenly bodies, by means of which he could imitate artificially the periodical revolutions of the flux and reflux beforementioned. he soon convinced himself that this action did exist. when trying the metallic plates of father hell, he thought their efficacy depended on their form; but he found afterwards that he could produce the same effects without using them at all, merely by passing his hands downwards towards the feet of the patient--even when at a considerable distance. this completed the theory of mesmer. he wrote an account of his discovery to all the learned societies of europe, soliciting their investigation. the academy of sciences at berlin was the only one that answered him, and their answer was anything but favourable to his system or flattering to himself. still he was not discouraged. he maintained to all who would listen to him that the magnetic matter, or fluid, pervaded all the universe--that every human body contained it, and could communicate the superabundance of it to another by an exertion of the will. writing to a friend from vienna, he said, "i have observed that the magnetic is almost the same thing as the electric fluid, and that it may be propagated in the same manner, by means of intermediate bodies. steel is not the only substance adapted to this purpose. i have rendered paper, bread, wool, silk, stones, leather, glass, wood, men, and dogs--in short, everything i touched, magnetic to such a degree that these substances produced the same effects as the loadstone on diseased persons. i have charged jars with magnetic matter in the same way as is done with electricity." mesmer did not long find his residence at vienna as agreeable as he wished. his pretensions were looked upon with contempt or indifference, and the case of mademoiselle oesterline brought him less fame than notoriety. he determined to change his sphere of action, and travelled into swabia and switzerland. in the latter country he met with the celebrated father gassner, who, like valentine greatraks, amused himself by casting out devils, and healing the sick by merely laying hands upon them. at his approach puling girls fell into convulsions, and the hypochondriac fancied themselves cured. his house was daily besieged by the lame, the blind, and the hysteric. mesmer at once acknowledged the efficacy of his cures, and declared that they were the obvious result of his own newly-discovered power of magnetism. a few of the father's patients were forthwith subjected to the manipulations of mesmer, and the same symptoms were induced. he then tried his hand upon some paupers in the hospitals of berne and zurich, and succeeded, according to his own account, but no other person's, in curing an opththalmia and a gutta serena. with memorials of these achievements he returned to vienna, in the hope of silencing his enemies, or at least forcing them to respect his newly-acquired reputation, and to examine his system more attentively. his second appearance in that capital was not more auspicious than the first. he undertook to cure a mademoiselle paradis, who was quite blind, and subject to convulsions. he magnetised her several times, and then declared that she was cured; at least, if she was not, it was her fault, and not his. an eminent oculist of that day, named birth, went to visit her, and declared that she was as blind as ever; while her family said she was as much subject to convulsions as before. mesmer persisted that she was cured. like the french philosopher, he would not allow facts to interfere with his theory. [an enthusiastic philosopher, of whose name we are not informed, had constructed a very satisfactory theory on some subject or other, and was not a little proud of it. "but the facts, my dear fellow," said his friend, "the facts do not agree with your theory."--"don't they," replied the philosopher, shrugging his shoulders, "then, taut pis pour les faits;"--so much the worse for the facts.] he declared that there was a conspiracy against him; and that mademoiselle paradis, at the instigation of her family, feigned blindness in order to injure his reputation! the consequences of this pretended cure taught mesmer that vienna was not the sphere for him. paris, the idle, the debauched, the pleasure-hunting, the novelty-loving, was the scene for a philosopher like him, and thither he repaired accordingly. he arrived at paris in , and began modestly, by making himself and his theory known to the principal physicians. at first, his encouragement was but slight; he found people more inclined to laugh at than to patronise him. but he was a man who had great confidence in himself, and of a perseverance which no difficulties could overcome. he hired a sumptuous apartment, which he opened to all comers who chose to make trial of the new power of nature. m. d'eslon, a physician of great reputation, became a convert; and from that time, animal magnetism, or, as some called it, mesmerism, became the fashion in paris. the women were quite enthusiastic about it, and their admiring tattle wafted its fame through every grade of society. mesmer was the rage; and high and low, rich and poor, credulous and unbelieving, all hastened to convince themselves of the power of this mighty magician, who made such magnificent promises. mesmer, who knew as well as any man living the influence of the imagination, determined that, on that score, nothing should be wanting to heighten the effect of the magnetic charm. in all paris, there was not a house so charmingly furnished as monsieur mesmer's. richly-stained glass shed a dim religious light on his spacious saloons, which were almost covered with mirrors. orange blossoms scented all the air of his corridors; incense of the most expensive kinds burned in antique vases on his chimney-pieces; aeolian harps sighed melodious music from distant chambers; while sometimes a sweet female voice, from above or below, stole softly upon the mysterious silence that was kept in the house, and insisted upon from all visitors. "was ever anything so delightful?" cried all the mrs. wittitterley's of paris, as they thronged to his house in search of pleasant excitement; "so wonderful!" said the pseudo-philosophers, who would believe anything if it were the fashion; "so amusing!" said the worn-out debauchees, who had drained the cup of sensuality to its dregs, and who longed to see lovely women in convulsions, with the hope that they might gain some new emotions from the sight. the following was the mode of operation:--in the centre of the saloon was placed an oval vessel, about four feet in its longest diameter, and one foot deep. in this were laid a number of wine-bottles, filled with magnetised water, well corked-up, and disposed in radii, with their necks outwards. water was then poured into the vessel so as just to cover the bottles, and filings of iron were thrown in occasionally to heighten the magnetic effect. the vessel was then covered with an iron cover, pierced through with many holes, and was called the baquet. from each hole issued a long moveable rod of iron, which the patients were to apply to such parts of their bodies as were afflicted. around this baquet the patients were directed to sit, holding each other by the hand, and pressing their knees together as closely as possible to facilitate the passage of the magnetic fluid from one to the other. then came in the assistant magnetisers, generally strong, handsome young men, to pour into the patient from their finger-tips fresh streams of the wondrous fluid. they embraced the patients between the knees, rubbed them gently down the spine and the course of the nerves, using gentle pressure upon the breasts of the ladies, and staring them out of countenance to magnetise them by the eye! all this time the most rigorous silence was maintained, with the exception of a few wild notes on the harmonica or the piano-forte, or the melodious voice of a hidden opera-singer swelling softly at long intervals. gradually the cheeks of the ladies began to glow, their imaginations to become inflamed; and off they went, one after the other, in convulsive fits. some of them sobbed and tore their hair, others laughed till the tears ran from their eyes, while others shrieked and screamed and yelled till they became insensible altogether. this was the crisis of the delirium. in the midst of it, the chief actor made his appearance, waving his wand, like prospero, to work new wonders. dressed in a long robe of lilac-coloured silk, richly embroidered with gold flowers, bearing in his hand a white magnetic rod; and, with a look of dignity which would have sat well on an eastern caliph, he marched with solemn strides into the room. he awed the still sensible by his eye, and the violence of their symptoms diminished. he stroked the insensible with his hands upon the eyebrows and down the spine; traced figures upon their breast and abdomen with his long white wand, and they were restored to consciousness. they became calm, acknowledged his power, and said they felt streams of cold or burning vapour passing through their frames, according as he waved his wand or his fingers before them. "it is impossible," says m. dupotet, "to conceive the sensation which mesmer's experiments created in paris. no theological controversy, in the earlier ages of the catholic church, was ever conducted with greater bitterness." his adversaries denied the discovery; some calling him a quack, others a fool, and others, again, like the abbe fiard, a man who had sold himself to the devil! his friends were as extravagant in their praise, as his foes were in their censure. paris was inundated with pamphlets upon the subject, as many defending as attacking the doctrine. at court, the queen expressed herself in favour of it, and nothing else was to be heard of in society. by the advice of m. d'eslon, mesmer challenged an examination of his doctrine by the faculty of medicine. he proposed to select twenty-four patients, twelve of whom he would treat magnetically, leaving the other twelve to be treated by the faculty according to the old and approved methods. he also stipulated, that to prevent disputes, the government should nominate certain persons who were not physicians, to be present at the experiments; and that the object of the inquiry should be, not how these effects were produced, but whether they were really efficacious in the cure of any disease. the faculty objected to limit the inquiry in this manner, and the proposition fell to the ground. mesmer now wrote to marie antoinette, with the view of securing her influence in obtaining for him the protection of government. he wished to have a chateau and its lands given to him, with a handsome yearly income, that he might be enabled to continue his experiments at leisure, untroubled by the persecution of his enemies. he hinted the duty of governments to support men of science, and expressed his fear, that if he met no more encouragement, he should be compelled to carry his great discovery to some other land more willing to appreciate him. "in the eyes of your majesty," said he, "four or five hundred thousand francs, applied to a good purpose, are of no account. the welfare and happiness of your people are everything. my discovery ought to be received and rewarded with a munificence worthy of the monarch to whom i shall attach myself." the government at last offered him a pension of twenty thousand francs, and the cross of the order of st. michael, if he had made any discovery in medicine, and would communicate it to physicians nominated by the king. the latter part of the proposition was not agreeable to mesmer. he feared the unfavourable report of the king's physicians; and, breaking off the negotiation, spoke of his disregard of money, and his wish to have his discovery at once recognised by the government. he then retired to spa, in a fit of disgust, upon pretence of drinking the waters for the benefit of his health. after he had left paris, the faculty of medicine called upon m. d'eslon, for the third and last time, to renounce the doctrine of animal magnetism, or be expelled from their body. m. d'eslon, so far from doing this, declared that he had discovered new secrets, and solicited further examination. a royal commission of the faculty of medicine was, in consequence, appointed on the th of march , seconded by another commission of the academie des sciences, to investigate the phenomena and report upon them. the first commission was composed of the principal physicians of paris; while, among the eminent men comprised in the latter, were benjamin franklin, lavoisier, and bailly, the historian of astronomy. mesmer was formally invited to appear before this body, but absented himself from day to day, upon one pretence or another. m. d'eslon was more honest, because he thoroughly believed in the phenomena, which it is to be questioned if mesmer ever did, and regularly attended the sittings and performed experiments. bailly has thus described the scenes of which he was a witness in the course of this investigation. "the sick persons, arranged in great numbers and in several rows around the baquet, receive the magnetism by all these means: by the iron rods which convey it to them from the baquet--by the cords wound round their bodies--by the connection of the thumb, which conveys to them the magnetism of their neighbours--and by the sounds of a pianoforte, or of an agreeable voice, diffusing the magnetism in the air. the patients were also directly magnetised by means of the finger and wand of the magnetiser moved slowly before their faces, above or behind their heads, and on the diseased parts, always observing the direction of the holes. the magnetiser acts by fixing his eyes on them. but above all, they are magnetised by the application of his hands and the pressure of his fingers on the hypochondres and on the regions of the abdomen; an application often continued for a long time-sometimes for several hours. "meanwhile the patients in their different conditions present a very varied picture. some are calm, tranquil, and experience no effect. others cough, spit, feel slight pains, local or general heat, and have sweatings. others again are agitated and tormented with convulsions. these convulsions are remarkable in regard to the number affected with them, to their duration and force. as soon as one begins to be convulsed, several others are affected. the commissioners have observed some of these convulsions last more than three hours. they are accompanied with expectorations of a muddy viscous water, brought away by violent efforts. sometimes streaks of blood have been observed in this fluid. these convulsions are characterized by the precipitous, involuntary motion of all the limbs, and of the whole body: by the construction of the throat--by the leaping motions of the hypochondria and the epigastrium--by the dimness and wandering of the eyes--by piercing shrieks, tears, sobbing, and immoderate laughter. they are preceded or followed by a state of languor or reverie, a kind of depression, and sometimes drowsiness. the smallest sudden noise occasions a shuddering; and it was remarked, that the change of measure in the airs played on the piano-forte had a great influence on the patients. a quicker motion, a livelier melody, agitated them more, and renewed the vivacity of their convulsions. "nothing is more astonishing than the spectacle of these convulsions. one who has not seen them can form no idea of them. the spectator is as much astonished at the profound repose of one portion of the patients as at the agitation of the rest--at the various accidents which are repeated, and at the sympathies which are exhibited. some of the patients may be seen devoting their attention exclusively to one another, rushing towards each other with open arms, smiling, soothing, and manifesting every symptom of attachment and affection. all are under the power of the magnetiser; it matters not in what state of drowsiness they may be, the sound of his voice--a look, a motion of his hand--brings them out of it. among the patients in convulsions there are always observed a great many women, and very few men." [rapport des commissaires, redige par m. bailly.--paris, .] these experiments lasted for about five months. they had hardly commenced, before mesmer, alarmed at the loss both of fame and profit, determined to return to paris. some patients of rank and fortune, enthusiastic believers in his doctrine, had followed him to spa. one of them named bergasse, proposed to open a subscription for him, of one hundred shares, at one hundred louis each, on condition that he would disclose his secret to the subscribers, who were to be permitted to make whatever use they pleased of it. mesmer readily embraced the proposal; and such was the infatuation, that the subscription was not only filled in a few days, but exceeded by no less a sum than one hundred and forty thousand francs. with this fortune he returned to paris, and recommenced his experiments, while the royal commission continued theirs. his admiring pupils, who had paid him so handsomely for his instructions, spread the delusion over the country, and established in all the principal towns of france, "societies of harmony," for trying experiments and curing all diseases by means of magnetism. some of these societies were a scandal to morality, being joined by profligate men of depraved appetites, who took a disgusting delight in witnessing young girls in convulsions. many of the pretended magnetisers were notorious libertines, who took that opportunity of gratifying their passions. an illegal increase of the number of french citizens was anything but a rare consequence in strasburg, nantes, bourdeaux, lyons, and other towns, where these societies were established. at last the commissioners published their report, which was drawn up by the illustrious and unfortunate bailly. for clearness of reasoning and strict impartiality it has never been surpassed. after detailing the various experiments made, and their results, they came to the conclusion that the only proof advanced in support of animal magnetism was the effects it produced on the human body--that those effects could be produced without passes or other magnetic manipulations--that all these manipulations, and passes, and ceremonies never produce any effect at all if employed without the patient's knowledge; and that therefore imagination did, and animal magnetism did not, account for the phenomena. this report was the ruin of mesmer's reputation in france. he quitted paris shortly after, with the three hundred and forty thousand francs which had been subscribed by his admirers, and retired to his own country, where he died in , at the advanced age of eighty-one. but the seeds he had sown fructified of themselves, nourished and brought to maturity by the kindly warmth of popular credulity. imitators sprang up in france, germany, and england, more extravagant than their master, and claiming powers for the new science which its founder had never dreamt of. among others, cagliostro made good use of the delusion in extending his claims to be considered a master of the occult sciences. but he made no discoveries worthy to be compared to those of the marquis de puysegur and the chevalier barbarin, honest men, who began by deceiving themselves before they deceived others. the marquis de puysegur, the owner of a considerable estate at busancy, was one of those who had entered into the subscription for mesmer. after that individual had quitted france, he retired to busancy with his brother to try animal magnetism upon his tenants, and cure the country people of all manner of diseases. he was a man of great simplicity and much benevolence, and not only magnetised but fed the sick that flocked around him. in all the neighbourhood, and indeed within a circumference of twenty miles, he was looked upon as endowed with a power almost divine. his great discovery, as he called it, was made by chance. one day he had magnetised his gardener; and observing him to fall into a deep sleep, it occurred to him that he would address a question to him, as he would have done to a natural somnambulist. he did so, and the man replied with much clearness and precision. m. de puysegur was agreeably surprised: he continued his experiments, and found that, in this state of magnetic somnambulism, the soul of the sleeper was enlarged, and brought into more intimate communion with all nature, and more especially with him, m. de puysegur. he found that all further manipulations were unnecessary; that, without speaking or making any sign, he could convey his will to the patient; that he could, in fact, converse with him, soul to soul, without the employment of any physical operation whatever! simultaneously with this marvellous discovery he made another, which reflects equal credit upon his understanding. like valentine greatraks, he found it hard work to magnetise all that came--that he had not even time to take the repose and relaxation which were necessary for his health. in this emergency he hit upon a clever expedient. he had heard mesmer say that he could magnetise bits of wood--why should he not be able to magnetise a whole tree? it was no sooner thought than done. there was a large elm on the village green at busancy, under which the peasant girls used to dance on festive occasions, and the old men to sit, drinking their vin du pays on the fine summer evenings. m. de puysegur proceeded to this tree and magnetised it, by first touching it with his hands and then retiring a few steps from it; all the while directing streams of the magnetic fluid from the branches toward the trunk, and from the trunk toward the root. this done, he caused circular seats to be erected round it, and cords suspended from it in all directions. when the patients had seated themselves, they twisted the cords round the diseased parts of their bodies, and held one another firmly by their thumbs to form a direct channel of communication for the passage of the fluid. m. de puysegur had now two hobbies--the man with the enlarged soul, and the magnetic elm. the infatuation of himself and his patients cannot be better expressed than in his own words. writing to his brother, on the th of may , he says, "if you do not come, my dear friend, you will not see my extraordinary man, for his health is now almost quite restored. i continue to make use of the happy power for which i am indebted to m. mesmer. every day i bless his name; for i am very useful, and produce many salutary effects on all the sick poor in the neighbourhood. they flock around my tree; there were more than one hundred and thirty of them this morning. it is the best baquet possible; not a leaf of it but communicates health! all feel, more or less, the good effects of it. you will be delighted to see the charming picture of humanity which this presents. i have only one regret--it is, that i cannot touch all who come. but my magnetised man--my intelligence--sets me at ease. he teaches me what conduct i should adopt. according to him, it is not at all necessary that i should touch every one; a look, a gesture, even a wish, is sufficient. and it is one of the most ignorant peasants of the country that teaches me this! when he is in a crisis, i know of nothing more profound, more prudent, more clearsighted (clairvoyant) than he is." in another letter, describing his first experiment with the magnetic tree, he says, "yester evening i brought my first patient to it. as soon as i had put the cord round him he gazed at the tree; and, with an air of astonishment which i cannot describe, exclaimed, 'what is it that i see there?' his head then sunk down, and he fell into a perfect fit of somnambulism. at the end of an hour, i took him home to his house again, when i restored him to his senses. several men and women came to tell him what he had been doing. he maintained it was not true; that, weak as he was, and scarcely able to walk, it would have been scarcely possible for him to have gone down stairs and walked to the tree. to-day i have repeated the experiment on him, and with the same success. i own to you that my head turns round with pleasure to think of the good i do. madame de puysegur, the friends she has with her, my servants, and, in fact, all who are near me, feel an amazement, mingled with admiration, which cannot be described; but they do not experience the half of my sensations. without my tree, which gives me rest, and which will give me still more, i should be in a state of agitation, inconsistent, i believe, with my health. i exist too much, if i may be allowed to use the expression." in another letter, he descants still more poetically upon his gardener with the enlarged soul. he says, "it is from this simple man, this tall and stout rustic, twenty-three years of age, enfeebled by disease, or rather by sorrow, and therefore the more predisposed to be affected by any great natural agent,--it is from this man, i repeat, that i derive instruction and knowledge. when in the magnetic state, he is no longer a peasant who can hardly utter a single sentence; he is a being, to describe whom i cannot find a name. i need not speak; i have only to think before him, when he instantly understands and answers me. should anybody come into the room, he sees him, if i desire it (but not else), and addresses him, and says what i wish him to say; not indeed exactly as i dictate to him, but as truth requires. when he wants to add more than i deem it prudent strangers should hear, i stop the flow of his ideas, and of his conversation in the middle of a word, and give it quite a different turn!" among other persons attracted to busancy by the report of these extraordinary occurrences was m. cloquet, the receiver of finance. his appetite for the marvellous being somewhat insatiable, he readily believed all that was told him by m. de puysegur. he also has left a record of what he saw, and what he credited, which throws a still clearer light upon the progress of the delusion. ["introduction to the study of animal magnetism," by baron dupotet, p. .] he says that the patients he saw in the magnetic state had an appearance of deep sleep, during which all the physical faculties were suspended, to the advantage of the intellectual faculties. the eyes of the patients were closed; the sense of hearing was abolished, and they awoke only at the voice of their magnetiser. "if any one touched a patient during a crisis, or even the chair on which he was seated," says m. cloquet, "it would cause him much pain and suffering, and throw him into convulsions. during the crisis, they possess an extraordinary and supernatural power, by which, on touching a patient presented to them, they can feel what part of his body is diseased, even by merely passing their hand over the clothes." another singularity was, that these sleepers who could thus discover diseases--see into the interior of other men's stomachs, and point out remedies, remembered absolutely nothing after the magnetiser thought proper to disenchant them. the time that elapsed between their entering the crisis and their coming out of it was obliterated. not only had the magnetiser the power of making himself heard by the somnambulists, but he could make them follow him by merely pointing his finger at them from a distance, though they had their eyes the whole time completely closed. such was animal magnetism under the auspices of the marquis de puysegur. while he was hibiting these fooleries around his elm-tree, a magnetiser of another class appeared in lyons, in the person of the chevalier de barbarin. this person thought the effort of the will, without any of the paraphernalia of wands or baquets, was sufficient to throw patients into the magnetic sleep. he tried it and succeeded. by sitting at the bedside of his patients, and praying that they might be magnetised, they went off into a state very similar to that of the persons who fell under the notice of m. de puysegur. in the course of time, a very considerable number of magnetisers, acknowledging barbarin for their model, and called after him barbarinists, appeared in different parts, and were believed to have effected some remarkable cures. in sweden and germany, this sect of fanatics increased rapidly, and were called spiritualists, to distinguish them from the followers of m. de puysegur, who were called experimentalists. they maintained that all the effects of animal magnetism, which mesmer believed to be producible by a magnetic fluid dispersed through nature, were produced by the mere effort of one human soul acting upon another; that when a connexion had once been established between a magnetiser and his patient, the former could communicate his influence to the latter from any distance, even hundreds of miles, by the will! one of them thus described the blessed state of a magnetic patient:--"in such a man animal instinct ascends to the highest degree admissible in this world. the clairvoyant is then a pure animal, without any admixture of matter. his observations are those of a spirit. he is similar to god. his eye penetrates all the secrets of nature. when his attention is fixed on any of the objects of this world--on his disease, his death, his well-beloved, his friends, his relations, his enemies,--in spirit he sees them acting; he penetrates into the causes and the consequences of their actions; he becomes a physician, a prophet, a divine!" [see "foreign review, continental miscellany," vol. v. .] let us now see what progress these mysteries made in england. in the year , dr. mainauduc, who had been a pupil, first of mesmer, and afterwards of d'eslon, arrived in bristol, and gave public lectures upon magnetism. his success was quite extraordinary. people of rank and fortune hastened from london to bristol to be magnetised, or to place themselves under his tuition. dr. george winter, in his history of animal magnetism, gives the following list of them:--"they amounted to one hundred and twenty-seven, among whom there were one duke, one duchess, one marchioness, two countesses, one earl, one baron, three baronesses, one bishop, five right honourable gentlemen and ladies, two baronets, seven members of parliament, one clergyman, two physicians, seven surgeons, besides ninety-two gentlemen and ladies of respectability." he afterwards established himself in london, where he performed with equal success. he began by publishing proposals to the ladies for the formation of a hygeian society. in this paper he vaunted highly the curative effects of animal magnetism, and took great credit to himself for being the first person to introduce it into england, and thus concluded:--"as this method of cure is not confined to sex, or college education, and the fair sex being in general the most sympathising part of the creation, and most immediately concerned in the health and care of its offspring, i think myself bound in gratitude to you, ladies, for the partiality you have shown me in midwifery, to contribute, as far as lies in my power, to render you additionally useful and valuable to the community. with this view, i propose forming my hygeian society, to be incorporated with that of paris. as soon as twenty ladies have given in their names, the day shall be appointed for the first meeting at my house, when they are to pay fifteen guineas, which will include the whole expense." hannah more, in a letter addressed to horace walpole, in september , speaks of the "demoniacal mummeries" of dr. mainauduc, and says he was in a fair way of gaining a hundred thousand pounds by them, as mesmer had done by his exhibitions in paris. so much curiosity was excited by the subject that, about the same time, a man, named holloway, gave a course of lectures on animal magnetism in london, at the rate of five guineas for each pupil, and realised a considerable fortune. loutherbourg, the painter, and his wife followed the same profitable trade; and such was the infatuation of the people to be witnesses of their strange manipulations, that, at times, upwards of three thousand persons crowded around their house at hammersmith, unable to gain admission. the tickets sold at prices varying from one to three guineas. loutherbourg performed his cures by the touch, after the manner of valentine greatraks, and finally pretended to a divine mission. an account of his miracles, as they were called, was published in , entitled "a list of new cures performed by mr. and mrs. de loutherbourg of hammersmith terrace, without medicine; by a lover of the lamb of god. dedicated to his grace the archbishop of canterbury." this "lover of the lamb of god" was a half-crazy old woman, named mary pratt, who conceived for mr. and mrs. de loutherbourg a veneration which almost prompted her to worship them. she chose for the motto of her pamphlet a verse in the thirteenth chapter of the acts of the apostles: "behold, ye despisers, and wonder and perish! for i will work a work in your days which ye shall not believe though a man declare it unto you." attempting to give a religious character to the cures of the painter, she thought a woman was the proper person to make them known, since the apostle had declared that a man should not be able to conquer the incredulity of the people. she stated that, from christmas to july , de loutherbourg and his wife had cured two thousand people, "having been made proper recipients to receive divine manuductions; which heavenly and divine influx, coming from the radix god, his divine majesty had most graciously bestowed upon them to diffuse healing to all, be they deaf, dumb, blind, lame, or halt." in her dedication to the archbishop of canterbury, she implored him to compose a new form of prayer to be used in all churches and chapels, that nothing might impede this inestimable gift from having its due course. she further entreated all the magistrates and men of authority in the land to wait on mr. and mrs. de loutherbourg, to consult with them on the immediate erection of a large hospital, with a pool of bethesda attached to it. all the magnetisers were scandalised at the preposterous jabber of this old woman, and de loutherbourg appears to have left london to avoid her; continuing, however, in conjunction with his wife, the fantastic tricks which had turned the brain of this poor fanatic, and deluded many others who pretended to more sense than she had. from this period until , magnetism excited little or no attention in england. an attempt to revive the doctrine was made in that year, but it was in the shape of mineral rather than of animal magnetism. one benjamin douglas perkins, an american, practising as a surgeon in leicestersquare, invented and took out a patent for the celebrated "metallic tractors." he pretended that these tractors, which were two small pieces of metal strongly magnetised, something resembling the steel plates which were first brought into notice by father hell, would cure gout, rheumatism, palsy, and in fact, almost every disease the human frame was subject to, if applied externally to the afflicted part, and moved about gently, touching the surface only. the most wonderful stories soon obtained general circulation, and the press groaned with pamphlets, all vaunting the curative effects of the tractors, which were sold at five guineas the pair. perkins gained money rapidly. gouty subjects forgot their pains in the presence of this new remedy; the rheumatism fled at its approach; and toothache, which is often cured by the mere sight of a dentist, vanished before perkins and his marvellous steel plates. the benevolent quakers, of whose body he was a member, warmly patronised the invention. desirous that the poor, who could not afford to pay mr. perkins five guineas, or even five shillings, for his tractors, should also share in the benefits of that sublime discovery, they subscribed a large sum, and built an hospital, called the "perkinean institution," in which all comers might be magnetised free of cost. in the course of a few months they were in very general use, and their lucky inventor in possession of five thousand pounds. dr. haygarth, an eminent physician at bath, recollecting the influence of imagination in the cure of disease, hit upon an expedient to try the real value of the tractors. perkins's cures were too well established to be doubted; and dr. haygarth, without gainsaying them, quietly, but in the face of numerous witnesses, exposed the delusion under which people laboured with respect to the curative medium. he suggested to dr. falconer that they should make wooden tractors, paint them to resemble the steel ones, and see if the very same effects would not be produced. five patients were chosen from the hospital in bath, upon whom to operate. four of them suffered severely from chronic rheumatism in the ankle, knee, wrist, and hip; and the fifth had been afflicted for several months with the gout. on the day appointed for the experiments, dr. haygarth and his friends assembled at the hospital, and with much solemnity brought forth the fictitious tractors. four out of the five patients said their pains were immediately relieved; and three of them said they were not only relieved, but very much benefited. one felt his knee warmer, and said he could walk across the room. he tried and succeeded, although on the previous day he had not been able to stir. the gouty man felt his pains diminish rapidly, and was quite easy for nine hours, until he went to bed, when the twitching began again. on the following day the real tractors were applied to all the patients, when they described their symptoms in nearly the same terms. to make still more sure, the experiment was tried in the bristol infirmary, a few weeks afterwards, on a man who had a rheumatic affection in the shoulder, so severe as to incapacitate him from lifting his hand from his knee. the fictitious tractors were brought and applied to the afflicted part, one of the physicians, to add solemnity to the scene, drawing a stop-watch from his pocket to calculate the time exactly, while another, with a pen in his hand, sat down to write the change of symptoms from minute to minute as they occurred. in less than four minutes the man felt so much relieved, that he lifted his hand several inches without any pain in the shoulder! an account of these matters was published by dr. haygarth, in a small volume entitled, "of the imagination, as a cause and cure of disorders, exemplified by fictitious tractors." the exposure was a coup de grace to the system of mr. perkins. his friends and patrons, still unwilling to confess that they had been deceived, tried the tractors upon sheep, cows, and horses, alleging that the animals received benefit from the metallic plates, but none at all from the wooden ones. but they found nobody to believe them; the perkinean institution fell into neglect; and perkins made his exit from england, carrying with him about ten thousand pounds, to soothe his declining years in the good city of pennsylvania. thus was magnetism laughed out of england for a time. in france, the revolution left men no leisure for such puerilities. the "societes de l'harmonie," of strasburg, and other great towns, lingered for a while, till sterner matters occupying men's attention, they were one after the other abandoned, both by pupils and professors. the system thus driven from the first two nations of europe, took refuge among the dreamy philosophers of germany. there the wonders of the magnetic sleep grew more and more wonderful every day; the patients acquired the gift of prophecy--their vision extended over all the surface of the globe--they could hear and see with their toes and fingers, and read unknown languages, and understand them too, by merely having the book placed on their bellies. ignorant clodpoles, when once entranced by the grand mesmeric fluid, could spout philosophy diviner than plato ever wrote, descant upon the mysteries of the mind with more eloquence and truth than the profoundest metaphysicians the world ever saw, and solve knotty points of divinity with as much ease as waking men could undo their shoe-buckles! during the first twelve years of the present century, little was heard of animal magnetism in any country of europe. even the germans forgot their airy fancies; recalled to the knowledge of this every-day world by the roar of napoleon's cannon and the fall or the establishment of kingdoms. during this period, a cloud of obscurity hung over the science, which was not dispersed until m. deleuze published, in , his "histoire critique du magnetisme animal." this work gave a new impulse to the half-forgotten delusion; newspapers, pamphlets, and books again waged war upon each other on the question of its truth or falsehood; and many eminent men in the profession of medicine recommenced inquiry, with an earnest design to discover the truth. the assertions made in the celebrated treatise of deleuze are thus summed up: [see the very calm, clear, and dispassionate article upon the subject in the fifth volume ( ) of "the foreign review," page , et seq.]--"there is a fluid continually escaping from the human body," and "forming an atmosphere around us," which, as "it has no determined current," produces no sensible effects on surrounding individuals. it is, however, "capable of being directed by the will;" and, when so directed, "is sent forth in currents," with a force corresponding to the energy we possess. its motion is "similar to that of the rays from burning bodies;" "it possesses different qualities in different individuals." it is capable of a high degree of concentration, "and exists also in trees." the will of the magnetiser, "guided by a motion of the hand, several times repeated in the same direction," can fill a tree with this fluid. most persons, when this fluid is poured into them, from the body and by the will of the magnetiser, "feel a sensation of heat or cold" when he passes his hand before them, without even touching them. some persons, when sufficiently charged with this fluid, fall into a state of somnambulism, or magnetic ecstasy; and, when in this state, "they see the fluid encircling the magnetiser like a halo of light, and issuing in luminous streams from his mouth and nostrils, his head, and hands; possessing a very agreeable smell, and communicating a particular taste to food and water." one would think that these absurdities were quite enough to be insisted upon by any physician who wished to be considered sane, but they only form a small portion of the wondrous things related by m. deleuze. he further said, "when magnetism produces somnambulism, the person who is in this state acquires a prodigious extension of all his faculties. several of his external organs, especially those of sight and hearing, become inactive; but the sensations which depend upon them take place internally. seeing and hearing are carried on by the magnetic fluid, which transmits the impressions immediately, and without the intervention of any nerves or organs directly to the brain. thus the somnambulist, though his eyes and ears are closed, not only sees and hears, but sees and hears much better than he does when awake. in all things he feels the will of the magnetiser, although that will be not expressed. he sees into the interior of his own body, and the most secret organization of the bodies of all those who may be put en rapport, or in magnetic connexion, with him. most commonly, he only sees those parts which are diseased and disordered, and intuitively prescribes a remedy for them. he has prophetic visions and sensations, which are generally true, but sometimes erroneous. he expresses himself with astonishing eloquence and facility. he is not free from vanity. he becomes a more perfect being of his own accord for a certain time, if guided wisely by the magnetiser, but wanders if he is ill-directed." according to m. deleuze, any person could become a magnetiser and produce these effects, by conforming to the following conditions, and acting upon the following rules:-- forget for a while all your knowledge of physics and metaphysics. remove from your mind all objections that may occur. imagine that it is in your power to take the malady in hand, and throw it on one side. never reason for six weeks after you have commenced the study. have an active desire to do good; a firm belief in the power of magnetism, and an entire confidence in employing it. in short, repel all doubts; desire success, and act with simplicity and attention. that is to say, "be very credulous; be very persevering; reject all past experience, and do not listen to reason," and you are a magnetiser after m. deleuze's own heart. having brought yourself into this edifying state of fanaticism, "remove from the patient all persons who might be troublesome to you: keep with you only the necessary witnesses--a single person, if need be; desire them not to occupy themselves in any way with the processes you employ and the effects which result from them, but to join with you in the desire of doing good to your patient. arrange yourself so as neither to be too hot nor too cold, and in such a manner that nothing may obstruct the freedom of your motions; and take precautions to prevent interruption during the sitting. make your patient then sit as commodiously as possible, and place yourself opposite to him, on a seat a little more elevated, in such a manner that his knees may be betwixt yours, and your feet at the side of his. first, request him to resign himself; to think of nothing; not to perplex himself by examining the effects which may be produced; to banish all fear; to surrender himself to hope, and not to be disturbed or discouraged if the action of magnetism should cause in him momentary pains. after having collected yourself, take his thumbs between your fingers in such a way that the internal part of your thumbs may be in contact with the internal part of his, and then fix your eyes upon him! you must remain from two to five minutes in this situation, or until you feel an equal heat between your thumbs and his. this done, you will withdraw your hands, removing them to the right and left; and at the same time turning them till their internal surface be outwards, and you will raise them to the height of the head. you will now place them upon the two shoulders, and let them remain there about a minute; afterwards drawing them gently along the arms to the extremities of the fingers, touching very slightly as you go. you will renew this pass five or six times, always turning your hands, and removing them a little from the body before you lift them. you will then place them above the head; and, after holding them there for an instant, lower them, passing them before the face, at the distance of one or two inches, down to the pit of the stomach. there you will stop them two minutes also, putting your thumbs upon the pit of the stomach and the rest of your fingers below the ribs. you will then descend slowly along the body to the knees, or rather, if you can do so without deranging yourself, to the extremity of the feet. you will repeat the same processes several times during the remainder of the sitting. you will also occasionally approach your patient, so as to place your hands behind his shoulders, in order to descend slowly along the spine of the back and the thighs, down to the knees or the feet. after the first passes, you may dispense with putting your hands upon the head, and may make the subsequent passes upon the arms, beginning at the shoulders, and upon the body, beginning at the stomach." such was the process of magnetising recommended by deleuze. that delicate, fanciful, and nervous women, when subjected to it, should have worked themselves into convulsions will be readily believed by the sturdiest opponent of animal magnetism. to sit in a constrained posture--be stared out of countenance by a fellow who enclosed her knees between his, while he made passes upon different parts of her body, was quite enough to throw any weak woman into a fit, especially if she were predisposed to hysteria, and believed in the efficacy of the treatment. it is just as evident that those of stronger minds and healthier bodies should be sent to sleep by the process. that these effects have been produced by these means there are thousands of instances to show. but are they testimony in favour of animal magnetism?--do they prove the existence of the magnetic fluid? every unprejudiced person must answer in the negative. it needs neither magnetism, nor ghost from the grave, to tell us that silence, monotony, and long recumbency in one position must produce sleep, or that excitement, imitation, and a strong imagination, acting upon a weak body, will bring on convulsions. it will be seen hereafter that magnetism produces no effects but these two; that the gift of prophecy--supernatural eloquence--the transfer of the senses, and the power of seeing through opaque substances, are pure fictions, that cannot be substantiated by anything like proof. m. deleuze's book produced quite a sensation in france; the study was resumed with redoubled vigour. in the following year, a journal was established devoted exclusively to the science, under the title of "annales du magnetisme animal;" and shortly afterwards appeared the "bibliotheque du magnetisme animal," and many others. about the same time, the abbe faria, "the man of wonders," began to magnetise; and the belief being that he had more of the mesmeric fluid about him, and a stronger will, than most men, he was very successful in his treatment. his experiments afford a convincing proof that imagination can operate all, and the supposed fluid none, of the resuits so confidently claimed as evidence of the new science. he placed his patients in an arm-chair; told them to shut their eyes; and then, in a loud commanding voice, pronounced the single word, "sleep!" he used no manipulations whatever--had no baquet, or conductor of the fluid; but he nevertheless succeeded in causing sleep in hundreds of patients. he boasted of having in his time produced five thousand somnambulists by this method. it was often necessary to repeat the command three or four times; and if the patient still remained awake, the abbe got out of the difficulty by dismissing him from the chair, and declaring that he was incapable of being acted on. and here it should be remarked that the magnetisers do not lay claim to a universal efficacy for their fluid; the strong and the healthy cannot be magnetised; the incredulous cannot be magnetised; those who reason upon it cannot be magnetised; those who firmly believe in it can be magnetised; the weak in body can be magnetised, and the weak in mind can be magnetised. and lest, from some cause or other, individuals of the latter classes should resist the magnetic charm, the apostles of the science declare that there are times when even they cannot be acted upon; the presence of one scorner or unbeliever may weaken the potency of the fluid and destroy its efficacy. in m. deleuze's instructions to a magnetiser, he expressly says, "never magnetise before inquisitive persons!" ["histoire critique du magnetisme animal," p. .] yet the followers of this delusion claim for it the rank of a science! the numerous writings that appeared between the years and show how much attention was excited in france. with every succeeding year some new discovery was put forth, until at last the magnetisers seemed to be very generally agreed that there were six separate and distinct degrees of magnetisation. they have been classed as follow:-- in the first stage, the skin of the patient becomes slightly reddened; and there is a feeling of heat, comfort, and lightness all over the body; but there is no visible action on the senses. in the second stage, the eye is gradually abstracted from the dominion of the will (or, in other words, the patient becomes sleepy). the drooping eyelids cannot be raised; the senses of hearing, smelling, feeling, and tasting are more than usually excited. in addition, a variety of nervous sensations are felt, such as spasms of the muscles and prickings of the skin, and involuntary twitchings in various parts of the body. in the third stage, which is that of magnetic sleep, all the senses are closed to external impressions; and sometimes fainting, and cataleptic or apoplectic attacks may occur. in the fourth stage, the patient is asleep to all the world; but he is awake within his own body, and consciousness returns. while in this state, all his senses are transferred to the skin. he is in the perfect crisis, or magnetic somnambulism; a being of soul and mind--seeing without eyes--hearing without ears, and deadened in body to all sense of feeling. in the fifth stage, which is that of lucid vision, the patient can see his own internal organisation, or that of others placed in magnetic communication with him. he becomes, at the same time, possessed of the instinct of remedies. the magnetic fluid, in this stage, unites him by powerful attraction to others, and establishes between them an impenetration of thought and feeling so intense as to blend their different natures into one. in the sixth stage, which is at the same time the rarest and the most perfect of all, the lucid vision is not obstructed by opaque matter, or subject to any barriers interposed by time or space. the magnetic fluid, which is universally spread in nature, unites the individual with all nature, and gives him cognizance of coming events by its universal lucidity. so much was said and written between the years and , and so many converts were made, that the magnetisers became clamorous for a new investigation. m. de foissac, a young physician, wrote to the academie royale du medicine a letter, calling for inquiry, in which he complained of the unfairness of the report of messrs. bailly and franklin in , and stating that, since that time, the science had wholly changed by the important discovery of magnetic somnambulism. he informed the academy that he had under his care a young woman, whose powers of divination when in the somnambulic state were of the most extraordinary character. he invited the members of that body to go into any hospital, and choose persons afflicted with any diseases, acute or chronic, simple or complex, and his somnambulist, on being put en rapport, or in magnetic connexion, with them, would infallibly point out their ailings and name the remedies. she, and other somnambulists, he said, could, by merely laying the hand successively on the head, the chest, and the abdomen of a stranger, immediately discover his maladies, with, the pains and different alterations thereby occasioned. they could indicate, besides, whether the cure were possible, and, if so, whether it were easy or difficult, near or remote, and what means should be employed to attain this result by the surest and readiest way. in this examination they never departed from the sound principles of medicine. "in fact," added m. de foissac, "i go further, and assert that their inspirations are allied to the genius which animated hippocrates!" in the mean time experiments were carried on in various hospitals of paris. the epileptic patients at the salpetriere were magnetised by permission of m. esquirol. at the bicetre also the same resuits were obtained. m. de foissac busied himself with the invalids at the hospice de la charite, and m. dupotet was equally successful in producing sleep or convulsions at val de grace. many members of the chamber of deputies became converts, and m. chardel, the comte de gestas, m. de laseases, and others, opened their saloons to those who were desirous of being instructed in animal magnetism. [dupotet's introduction to the study of animal magnetism, page .] other physicians united with m. de foissac in calling for an inquiry; and ultimately the academy nominated a preliminary committee of five of its members, namely, messrs adelon, burdin, marc, pariset, and husson, to investigate the alleged facts, and to report whether the academy, without any compromise of its dignity, could appoint a new commission. before this committee, m. de foissac produced his famous somnambulist; but she failed in exhibiting any one of the phenomena her physician had so confidently predicted: she was easily thrown into the state of sleep, by long habit and the monotony of the passes and manipulations of her magnetiser; but she could not tell the diseases of persons put en rapport with her. the committee of five framed excuses for this failure, by saying, that probably the magnetic fluid was obstructed, because they were "inexperienced, distrustful, and perhaps impatient." after this, what can be said for the judgment or the impartiality of such a committee? they gave at last their opinion, that it would be advisable to appoint a new commission. on the th of december , they presented themselves to the academie to deliver their report. a debate ensued, which occupied three days, and in which all the most distinguished members took part. it was finally decided by a majority of ten, that the commission should be appointed, and the following physicians were chosen its members:--they were eleven in number, viz. bourdois de la motte, the president; fouquier, gueneau de mussy, guersent, husson, itard, marc, j. j. leroux, thillay, double, and majendie. these gentlemen began their labours by publishing an address to all magnetisers, inviting them to come forward and exhibit in their presence the wonders of animal magnetism. m. dupotet says that very few answered this amicable appeal, because they were afraid of being ridiculed when the report should be published. four magnetisers, however, answered their appeal readily, and for five years were busily engaged in bringing proofs of the new science before the commission. these were m. de foissac, m. dupotet, m. chapelain, and m. de geslin. it would be but an unprofitable, and by no means a pleasant task to follow the commissioners in their erratic career, as they were led hither and thither by the four lights of magnetism above mentioned; the four "wills-o'-the-wisp" which dazzled the benighted and bewildered doctors on that wide and shadowy region of metaphysical inquiry--the influence of mind over matter. it will be better to state at once the conclusion they came to after so long and laborious an investigation, and then examine whether they were warranted in it by the evidence brought before them. the report, which is exceedingly voluminous, is classed under thirty different heads, and its general tenor is favourable to magnetism. the reporters expressly state their belief in the existence of the magnetic fluid, and sum up the result of their inquiries in the four assertions which follow:-- . magnetism has no effect upon persons in a sound state of health, nor upon some diseased persons. . in others its effects are slight. . these effects are sometimes produced by weariness or ennui, by monotony, and by the imagination. . we have seen these effects developed independently of the last causes, most probably as the effects of magnetism alone. it will be seen that the first and second of these sentences presuppose the existence of that magnetic power, which it is the object of the inquiry to discover. the reporters begin, by saying, that magnetism exists, when after detailing their proofs, they should have ended by affirming it. for the sake of lucidity, a favourite expression of their own, let us put the propositions into a new form and new words, without altering the sense. . certain effects, such as convulsions, somnambulism, &c. are producible in the human frame, by the will of others, by the will of the patient himself, or by both combined, or by some unknown means, we wish to discover, perhaps by magnetism. . these effects are not producible upon all bodies. they cannot be produced upon persons in a sound state of health, nor upon some diseased persons; while in other eases, the effects are very slight. . these effects were produced in many cases that fell under our notice, in which the persons operated on were in a weak state of health, by weariness or ennui, by monotony, and by the power of imagination. . but in many other eases these effects were produced, and were clearly not the result of weariness or ennui, of monotony, or of the power of the imagination. they were, therefore, produced by the magnetic processes we employed:--ergo--animal magnetism exists. every one, whether a believer or disbeliever in the doctrine, must see that the whole gist of the argument will be destroyed, if it be proved that the effects which the reporters claimed as resulting from a power independent of weariness, monotony, and the imagination, did, in fact, result from them, and from nothing else. the following are among the proofs brought forward to support the existence of the magnetic fluid, as producing those phenomena:-- "a child, twenty-eight months old, was magnetised by m. foissac, at the house of m. bourdois. the child, as well as its father, was subject to attacks of epilepsy. almost immediately after m. foissac had begun his manipulations and passes, the child rubbed its eyes, bent its head to one side, supported it on one of the cushions of the sofa where it was sitting, yawned, moved itself about, scratched its head and its ears, appeared to strive against the approach of sleep, and then rose, if we may be allowed the expression, grumbling. being taken away to satisfy a necessity of nature, it was again placed on the sofa, and magnetised for a few moments. but as there appeared no decided symptoms of somnolency this time, we terminated the experiment." and this in all seriousness and sobriety was called a proof of the existence of the magnetic fluid! that these effects were not produced by the imagination may be granted; but that they were not produced by weariness and monotony is not so clear. a child is seated upon a sofa, a solemn looking gentleman, surrounded by several others equally grave, begins to play various strange antics before it, moving his hands mysteriously, pointing at his head, all the while preserving a most provoking silence. and what does the child? it rubs its eyes, appears restless, yawns, scratches its head, grumbles, and makes an excuse to get away. magnetism, forsooth! 'twas a decided case of botheration! the next proof (so called), though not so amusing, is equally decisive of the mystification of the commissioners. a deaf and dumb lad, eighteen years of age, and subject to attacks of epilepsy, was magnetised fifteen times by m. foissac. the phenomena exhibited during the treatment were a heaviness of the eyelids, a general numbness, a desire to sleep, and sometimes vertigo:--the epileptic attacks were entirely suspended, and did not return till eight months afterwards. upon this case and the first mentioned, the committee reasoned thus:--"these cases appear to us altogether worthy of remark. the two individuals who formed the subject of the experiment, were ignorant of what was done to them. the one, indeed, was not in a state capable of knowing it; and the other never had the slightest idea of magnetism. both, however, were insensible of its influence; and most certainly it is impossible in either case to attribute this sensibility to the imagination." the first case has been already disposed of. with regard to the second, it is very possible to attribute all the results to imagination. it cannot be contended, that because the lad was deaf and dumb he had no understanding, that he could not see the strange manipulations of the magnetiser, and that he was unaware that his cure was the object of the experiments that were thus made upon him. had he no fancy merely because he was dumb? and could he, for the same reason, avoid feeling a heaviness in his eyelids, a numbness, and a sleepiness, when he was forced to sit for two or three hours while m. foissac pointed his fingers at him? as for the amelioration in his health, no argument can be adduced to prove that he was devoid of faith in the remedy; and that, having faith, he should not feel the benefit of it as well as thousands of others who have been cured by means wholly as imaginary. the third case is brought forward with a still greater show of authority. having magnetised the child and the dumb youth with results so extraordinary, m. foissac next tried his hand upon a commissioner. m. itard was subjected to a course of manipulations; the consequences were a flow of saliva, a metallic savour in the mouth, and a severe headach. these symptoms, say the reporters, cannot be accounted for by the influence of imagination. m. itard, it should be remarked, was a confirmed valetudinarian; and a believer, before the investigation commenced, in the truth of magnetism. he was a man, therefore, whose testimony cannot be received with implicit credence upon this subject. he may have repeated, and so may his brother commissioners, that the results above stated were not produced by the power of the imagination. the patients of perkins, of valentine greatraks, of sir kenelm digby, of father gassner, were all equally positive: but what availed their assertions? experience soon made it manifest, that no other power than that of imagination worked the wonders in their case. m. itard's is not half so extraordinary; the only wonder is, that it should ever have been insisted upon. the commissioners having, as they thought, established beyond doubt the existence of the magnetic fluid, (and these are all their proofs,) next proceeded to investigate the more marvellous phenomena of the science; such as the transfer of the senses; the capability of seeing into one's own or other people's insides, and of divining remedies; and the power of prophecy. a few examples will suffice. m. petit was magnetised by m. dupotet, who asserted that the somnambulist would be able to choose, with his eyes shut, a mesmerised coin out of twelve others. the experiment was tried, and the somnambulist chose the wrong one. [report of the commissioners, p. .] baptiste chamet was also magnetised by m. dupotet, and fell into the somnambulic state after eight minutes. as he appeared to be suffering great pain, he was asked what ailed him, when he pointed to his breast, and said he felt pain there. being asked what part of his body that was, he said his liver. [ibid, p. .] mademoiselle martineau was magnetised by m. dupotet, and it was expected that her case would prove not only the transfer of the senses, but the power of divining remedies. her eyes having been bandaged, she was asked if she could not see all the persons present? she replied, no; but she could hear them talking. no one was speaking at the time. she said she would awake after five or ten minutes sleep. she did not awake for sixteen or seventeen minutes. she announced that on a certain day she would be able to tell exactly the nature of her complaint, and prescribe the proper remedies. on the appointed day she was asked the question, and could not answer. [report of the commissioners, p. .] mademoiselle couturier, a patient of m. de geslin, was thrown into the state of somnambulism, and m. de geslin said she would execute his mental orders. one of the committee then wrote on a slip of paper the words "go and sit down on the stool in front of the piano." he handed the paper to m. de geslin, who having conceived the words mentally, turned to his patient, and told her to do as he required of her. she rose up, went to the clock, and said it was twenty minutes past nine. she was tried nine times more, and made as many mistakes. [idem, p. .] pierre cazot was an epileptic patient, and was said to have the power of prophecy. being magnetised on the nd of april, he said that in nine weeks he should have a fit, in three weeks afterwards go mad, abuse his wife, murder some one, and finally recover in the month of august. after which he should never have an attack again. [idem, p. ] in two days after uttering this prophecy, he was run over by a cabriolet and killed. [foreign quarterly review, vol. xii. p. ] a post mortem examination was made of his body, when it was ascertained beyond doubt, that even had he not met with this accident, he could never have recovered. [at the extremity of the plexus choroides was found a substance, yellow within, and white without, containing small hydatids.--report oltre commissioners, p. .] the inquest which had been the means of eliciting these, along with many other facts, having sat for upwards of five years, the magnetisers became anxious that the report should be received by the solemn conclave of the academie. at length a day (the th of june ) was fixed for the reading. all the doctors of paris thronged around the hall to learn the result; the street in front of the building was crowded with medical students; the passages were obstructed by philosophers. "so great was the sensation," says m. dupotet, "that it might have been supposed the fate of the nation depended on the result." m. husson, the reporter, appeared at the bar and read the report, the substance of which we have just extracted. he was heard at first with great attention, but as he proceeded signs of impatience and dissent were manifested on all sides. the unreasonable inferences of the commissioners--their false conclusions--their too positive assertions, were received with repeated marks of disapprobation. some of the academicians started from their seats, and apostrophising the commissioners, accused them of partiality or stolidity. the commissioners replied; until, at last, the uproar became so violent that an adjournment of the sitting was moved and carried. on the following day the report was concluded. a stormy discussion immediately ensued, which certainly reflected no credit upon the opponents of animal magnetism. both sides lost temper--the anti-magnetists declaring that the whole was a fraud and a delusion; the pro-magnetists reminding the academy that it was too often the fate of truth to be scorned and disregarded for a while, but that eventually her cause would triumph. "we do not care for your disbelief," cried one, "for in this very hall your predecessors denied the circulation of the blood!"--"yes," cried another, "and they denied the falling of meteoric stones!" while a third exclaimed "grande est veritas et praevalebit!" some degree of order being at last restored, the question whether the report should be received and published was decided in the negative. it was afterwards agreed that a limited number of copies should be lithographed, for the private use of such members as wished to make further examination. as might have been expected, magnetism did not suffer from a discussion which its opponents had conducted with so much intemperance. the followers of magnetism were as loud as ever in vaunting its efficacy as a cure, and its value, not only to the science of medicine, but to philosophy in general. by force of repeated outcries against the decision of the academie, and assertions that new facts were discovered day after day, its friends, six years afterwards, prevailed upon that learned and influential body to institute another inquiry. the academie, in thus consenting to renew the investigation after it had twice solemnly decided (once in conjunction with, and once in opposition to a committee of its own appointment) that animal magnetism was a fraud or a chimera, gave the most striking proof of its own impartiality and sincere desire to arrive at the truth. the new commission was composed of m. roux, the president; and messieurs bouillard, cloquet, emery, pelletier, caventon, oudet, cornac, and dubois d'amiens. the chief magnetiser upon the occasion was m. berna, who had written to the academie on the th of february , offering to bring forward the most convincing proofs of the truth of the new "science." the commissioners met for the first time on the th of february, and delivered their report, which was drawn up by m. dubois d'amiens, on the nd of august following. after a careful examination of all the evidence, they decided, as messieurs bailly and franklin had done in , that the touchings, imagination, and the force of imitation would account satisfactorily for all the phenomena; that the supposed mesmeric fluid would not; that m. berna, the magnetiser, laboured under a delusion; and that the facts brought under their notice were anything but conclusive in favour of the doctrine of animal magnetism, and could have no relation either with physiology or with therapeutics. the following abridgment of the report will show that the commissioners did not thus decide without abundant reason. on the rd of march they met at the house of m. roux, the president, when m. berna introduced his patient, a young girl of seventeen, of a constitution apparently nervous and delicate, but with an air sufficiently cool and self-sufficient. m. berna offered eight proofs of animal magnetism, which he would elicit in her case, and which he classed as follow:-- . he would throw her into the state of somnambulism. . he would render her quite insensible to bodily pain. . he would restore her to sensibility by his mere will, without any visible or audible manifestation of it. . his mental order should deprive her of motion. . he would cause her, by a mental order, to cease answering in the midst of a conversation, and by a second mental order would make her begin again. . he would repeat the same experiment, separated from his patient by a door. . he would awake her. . he would throw her again into the somnambulic state, and by his will successively cause her to lose and recover the sensibility of any part of her body. before any attempt at magnetisation was made by m. berna, the commissioners determined to ascertain how far, in her ordinary state, she was sensible to pricking. needles of a moderate size were stuck into her hands and neck, to the depth of half a line, and she was asked by messieurs roux and caventon whether she felt any pain. she replied that she felt nothing; neither did her countenance express any pain. the commissioners, somewhat surprised at this, repeated their question, and inquired whether she was absolutely insensible. being thus pressed, she acknowledged that she felt a little pain. these preliminaries having been completed, m. berna made her sit close by him. he looked steadfastly at her, but made no movements or passes whatever. after the lapse of about two minutes she fell back asleep, and m. berna told the commissioners that she was now in the state of magnetic somnambulism. he then arose, and again looking steadfastly at her from a short distance, declared, after another minute, that she was struck with general insensibility. to ascertain this, the girl's eyes having been previously bandaged, messieurs bouillard, emery, and dubois pricked her one after the other with needles. by word she complained of no pain; and her features, where the bandage allowed them to be seen, appeared calm and unmoved. but m. dubois having stuck his needle rather deep under her chin, she immediately made with much vivacity a movement of deglutition. this experiment having failed, m. berna tried another, saying that he would, by the sole and tacit intervention of his will, paralyze any part of the girl's body the commissioners might mention. to avoid the possibility of collusion, m. dubois drew up the following conditions:-- "that m. berna should maintain the most perfect silence, and should receive from the hands of the commissioners papers, on which should be written the parts to be deprived of motion and sensibility, and that m. berna should let them know when he had done it by closing one of his eyes, that they might verify it. the parts to be deprived of sensibility were the chin, the right thumb, the region of the left deltoid, and that of the right patella." m. berna would not accept these conditions, giving for his reason that the parts pointed out by the commissioners were too limited; that, besides, all this was out of his programme, and he did not understand why such precautions should be taken against him. m. berna had written in his programme that he would deprive the whole body of sensibility, and then a part only. he would afterwards deprive the two arms of motion--then the two legs--then a leg and an arm--then the neck, and lastly the tongue. all the evidence he wished the commissioners to have was after a very unsatisfactory fashion. he would tell the somnambulist to raise her arm, and if she did not raise it, the limb was to be considered paralyzed. besides this, the commissioners were to make haste with their observations. if the first trials did not succeed, they were to be repeated till paralysis was produced. "these," as the commissioners very justly remarked, "were not such conditions as men of science, who were to give an account of their commission, could exactly comply with." after some time spent in a friendly discussion of the point, m. berna said he could do no more at that meeting. then placing himself opposite the girl, he twice exclaimed, "wake!" she awakened accordingly, and the sitting terminated. at the second meeting, m. berna was requested to paralyze the right arm only of the girl by the tacit intervention of his will, as he had confidently assured the commissioners he could. m. berna, after a few moments, made a sign with his eye that he had done so, when m. bouillard proceeded to verify the fact. being requested to move her left arm, she did so. being then requested to move her right leg, she said the whole of her right side was paralyzed--she could neither move arm nor leg. on this experiment the commissioners remark: "m. berna's programme stated that he had the power of paralyzing either a single limb or two limbs at once, we chose a single limb, and there resulted, in spite of his will, a paralysis of two limbs." some other experiments, equally unsatisfactory, were tried with the same girl. m. berna was soon convinced that she had not studied her part well, or was not clever enough to reflect any honour upon the science, and he therefore dismissed her. her place was filled by a woman, aged about thirty, also of very delicate health; and the following conclusive experiments were tried upon her:-- the patient was thrown into the somnambulic state, and her eyes covered with a bandage. at the invitation of the magnetiser, m. dubois d'amiens wrote several words upon a card, that the somnambule might read them through her bandages, or through her occiput. m. dubois wrote the word pantagruel, in perfectly distinct roman characters; then placing himself behind the somnambule, he presented the card close to her occiput. the magnetiser was seated in front of the woman and of m. dubois, and could not see the writing upon the card. being asked by her magnetiser what was behind her head, she answered, after some hesitation, that she saw something white--something resembling a card--a visiting-card. it should be remembered that m. berna had requested m. dubois aloud to take a card and write upon it, and that the patient must have heard it, as it was said in her presence. she was next asked if she could distinguish what there was on this card. she replied "yes; there was writing on it."--"is it small or large, this writing?" inquired the magnetiser. "pretty large," replied she. "what is written on it?" continued the magnetiser. "wait a little-i cannot see very plain. ah! there is first an m. yes, it is a word beginning with an m." [the woman thought it was a visiting-card, and guessed that doubtless it would begin with the words monsieur or madame.] m. cornac, unknown to the magnetiser, who alone put the questions, passed a perfectly blank card to m. dubois, who substituted it quietly for the one on which he had written the word pantagruel. the somnambule still persisted that she saw a word beginning with an m. at last, after some efforts, she added doubtingly that she thought she could see two lines of writing. she was still thinking of the visiting-card, with a name in one line and the address on the other. many other experiments of the same kind, and with a similar result, were tried with blank cards; and it was then determined to try her with playing-cards. m. berna had a pack of them on his table, and addressing m. dubois aloud, he asked him to take one of them and place it at the occiput of the somnambule. m. dubois asked him aloud whether he should take a court card. "as you please," replied the magnetiser. as m. dubois went towards the table, the idea struck him that he would not take either a court or a common card, but a perfectly blank card of the same size. neither m. berna nor the somnambule was aware of the substitution. he then placed himself behind her as before, and held the card to her occiput so that m. berna could not see it. m. berna then began to magnetise her with all his force, that he might sublimate her into the stage of extreme lucidity, and effectually transfer the power of vision to her occiput. she was interrogated as to what she could see. she hesitated; appeared to struggle with herself, and at last said she saw a card. "but what do you see on the card?" after a little hesitation, she said she could see black and red (thinking of the court card). the commissioners allowed m. berna to continue the examination in his own way. after some fruitless efforts to get a more satisfactory answer from the somnambule, he invited m. dubois to pass his card before her head, close against the bandage covering her eyes. this having been done, the somnambule said she could see better. m. berna then began to put some leading questions, and she replied that she could see a figure. hereupon, there were renewed solicitations from m. berna. the somnambule, on her part, appeared to be making great efforts to glean some information from her magnetiser, and at last said that she could distinguish the knave. but this was not all; it remained for her to say which of the four knaves. in answer to further inquiries, she said there was black by the side of it. not being contradicted at all, she imagined that she was in the right track; and made, after much pressing, her final guess, that it was the knave of clubs. m. berna, thinking the experiment finished, took the card from the hands of m. dubois, and in presence of all the commissioners saw that it was entirely blank. blank was his own dismay. as a last experiment, she was tried with a silver medal. it was with very great difficulty that any answers could be elicited from her. m. cornac held the object firmly closed in his hand close before the bandage over her eyes. she first said she saw something round; she then said it was flesh-coloured--then yellow--then the colour of gold. it was as thick as an onion: and, in answer to incessant questions, she said it was yellow on one side, white on the other, and had black above it. she was thinking, apparently, of a gold watch, with its white dial and black figures for the hours. solicited, for the last time, to explain herself clearly--to say, at least, the use of the object and its name, she appeared to be anxious to collect all her energies, and then uttered only the word "hour." then, at last, as if suddenly illumined, she cried out that "it was to tell the hour." thus ended the sitting. some difficulties afterwards arose between the commissioners and m. berna, who wished that a copy of the proces verbal should be given him. the commissioners would not agree; and m. berna, in his turn, refused to make any fresh experiments. it was impossible that any investigation could have been conducted more satisfactorily than this. the report of the commissioners was quite conclusive; and animal magnetism since that day lost much of its repute in france. m. dupotet, with a perseverance and ingenuity worthy a better cause, has found a satisfactory excuse for the failure of m. berna. having taken care in his work not to publish the particulars, he merely mentions, in three lines, that m. berna failed before a committee of the royal academy of medicine in an endeavour to produce some of the higher magnetic phenomena. "there are a variety of incidental circumstances," says that shining light of magnetism, "which it is difficult even to enumerate. an over-anxiety to produce the effects, or any incidental suggestions that may disturb the attention of the magnetiser, will often be sufficient to mar the successful issue of the experiment." ["introduction to the study of animal magnetism," by baron dupotet de sennevoy, london, , p. .] such are the miserable shifts to which error reduces its votaries! while dupotet thus conveniently forbears to dwell upon the unfavourable decision of the committee of , let us hear how he dilates upon the favourable report of the previous committee of , and how he praises the judgment and the impartiality of its members. "the academie royale de medicine," says he, "put upon record clear and authenticated evidence in favour of animal magnetism. the commissioners detailed circumstantially the facts which they witnessed, and the methods they adopted to detect every possible source of deception. many of the commissioners, when they entered on the investigation, were not only unfavourable to magnetism, but avowedly unbelievers; so that their evidence in any court of justice would be esteemed the most unexceptionable that could possibly be desired. they were inquiring too, not into any speculative or occult theory, upon which there might be a chance of their being led away by sophistical representations, but they were inquiring into the existence of facts only--plain demonstrable facts, which were in their own nature palpable to every observer." ["introduction to the study of animal magnetism," p. .] m. dupotet might not unreasonably be asked whether the very same arguments ought not to be applied to the unfavourable report drawn up by the able m. dubois d'amiens and his coadjutors in the last inquiry. if the question were asked, we should, in all probability, meet some such a reply as this:--"true, they might; but then you must consider the variety of incidental circumstances, too numerous to mention! m. berna may have been over anxious; in fact, the experiments must have been spoiled by an incidental suggestion!" a man with a faith so lively as m. dupotet was just the person to undertake the difficult mission of converting the english to a belief in magnetism. accordingly we find that, very shortly after the last decision of the academie, m. dupotet turned his back upon his native soil and arrived in england, loaded with the magnetic fluid, and ready to re-enact all the fooleries of his great predecessors, mesmer and puysegur. since the days of perkinism and metallic tractors, until , magnetism had made no progress, and excited no attention in england. mr. colquhoun, an advocate at the scottish bar, published in that year the, till then, inedited report of the french commission of , together with a history of the science, under the title of "isis revelata; or, an inquiry into the origin, progress, and present state of animal magnetism." mr. colquhoun was a devout believer, and his work was full of enthusiasm. it succeeded in awakening some interest upon a subject certainly very curious, but it made few or no converts. an interesting article, exposing the delusion, appeared in the same year in the "foreign quarterly review;" and one or two medical works noticed the subject afterwards, to scout it and turn it into ridicule. the arrival of m. dupotet, in , worked quite a revolution, and raised animal magnetism to a height of favour, as great as it had ever attained even in france. he began by addressing letters of invitation to the principal philosophers and men of science, physicians, editors of newspapers, and others, to witness the experiments, which were at first carried on at his own residence, in wigmore-street, cavendish-square. many of them accepted the invitation; and, though not convinced, were surprised and confounded at the singular influence which he exercised over the imagination of his patients. still, at first, his success was not flattering. to quote his own words, in the dedication of his work to earl stanhope, "he spent several months in fruitless attempts to induce the wise men of the country to study the phenomena of magnetism. his incessant appeals for an examination of these novel facts remained unanswered, and the press began to declare against him." with a saddened heart, he was about to renounce the design he had formed of spreading magnetism in england, and carry to some more credulous people the important doctrines of which he had made himself the apostle. earl stanhope, however, encouraged him to remain; telling him to hope for a favourable change in public opinion, and the eventual triumph of that truth of which he was the defender. m. dupotet remained. he was not so cruel as to refuse the english people a sight of his wonders. although they might be ungrateful, his kindness and patience should be long enduring. in the course of time his perseverance met its reward. ladies in search of emotions--the hysteric, the idle, the puling, and the ultra-sentimental crowded to his saloons, as ladies similarly predisposed had crowded to mesmer's sixty years before. peers, members of the house of commons, philosophers, men of letters, and physicians came in great numbers--some to believe, some to doubt, and a few to scoff. m. dupotet continued his experiments, and at last made several important converts. most important of all for a second mesmer, he found a second d'eslon. dr. elliotson, the most conspicuous among the converts of dupotet, was, like d'eslon, a physician in extensive practice--a thoroughly honest man, but with a little too much enthusiasm. the parallel holds good between them in every particular; for, as d'eslon had done before him, dr. elliotson soon threw his master into the shade, and attracted all the notice of the public upon himself. he was at that time professor of the principles and practice of medicine at the university college, london, and physician to the hospital. in conjunction with m. dupotet, he commenced a course of experiments upon some of the patients in that institution. the reports which were published from time to time, partook so largely of the marvellous, and were corroborated by the evidence of men whose learning, judgment, and integrity it was impossible to call in question, that the public opinion was staggered. men were ashamed to believe, and yet afraid to doubt; and the subject at last became so engrossing that a committee of some of the most distinguished members of the medical profession undertook to investigate the phenomena, and report upon them. in the mean time, dr. elliotson and m. dupotet continued the public exhibition at the hospital; while the credulous gaped with wonder, and only some few daring spirits had temerity enough to hint about quackery and delusion on the part of the doctors, and imposture on the part of the patients. the phenomena induced in two young women, sisters, named elizabeth and jane okey, were so extraordinary that they became at last the chief, if not the only proofs of the science in london. we have not been able to meet with any reports of these experiments from the pen of an unbeliever, and are therefore compelled to rely solely upon the reports published under the authority of the magnetisers themselves, and given to the world in "the lancet" and other medical journals. elizabeth okey was an intelligent girl, aged about seventeen, and was admitted into the university college hospital, suffering under attacks of epilepsy. she was magnetised repeatedly by m. dupotet in the autumn of , and afterwards by dr. elliotson at the hospital, during the spring and summer of . by the usual process, she was very easily thrown into a state of deep unconscious sleep, from which she was aroused into somnambulism and delirium. in her waking state she was a modest well-behaved girl, and spoke but little. in the somnambulic state, she appeared quite another being; evinced considerable powers of mimicry; sang comic songs; was obedient to every motion of her magnetiser; and was believed to have the power of prophesying the return of her illness--the means of cure, and even the death or recovery of other patients in the ward. mesmer had often pretended in his day that he could impart the magnetic power to pieces of metal or wood, strings of silk or cord, &c. the reader will remember his famous battery, and the no less famous tree of m. de puysegur. during the experiments upon okey, it was soon discovered that all the phenomena could be produced in her, if she touched any object that had been previously mesmerised by the will or the touch of her magnetiser. at a sitting, on the th of july , it was mentioned that okey, some short time previously, and while in the state of magnetic lucidity, had prophesied that, if mesmerised tea were placed in each of her hands, no power in nature would be able to awake her until after the lapse of a quarter of an hour. the experiment was tried accordingly. tea which had been touched by the magnetiser was placed in each hand, and she immediately fell asleep. after ten minutes, the customary means to awaken her were tried, but without effect. she was quite insensible to all external impressions. in a quarter of an hour, they were tried with redoubled energy, but still in vain. she was left alone for six minutes longer; but she still slept, and it was found quite impossible to wake her. at last some one present remarked that this wonderful sleep would, in all probability, last till the tea was removed from her bands. the suggestion was acted upon, the tea was taken away, and she awoke in a few seconds. ["lancet," vol. ii. - , p. .] on the th of july, just a week afterwards, numerous experiments as to the capability of different substances for conveying the magnetic influence were tried upon her. a slip of crumpled paper, magnetised by being held in the hand, produced no effect. a penknife magnetised her immediately. a piece of oilskin had no influence. a watch placed on her palm sent her to sleep immediately, if the metal part were first placed in contact with her; the glass did not affect her so quickly. as she was leaving the room, a sleeve-cuff made of brown-holland, which had been accidentally magnetised by a spectator, stopped her in mid career, and sent her fast to sleep. it was also found that, on placing the point of her finger on a sovereign which had been magnetised, she was immediately stupified. a pile of sovereigns produced sleep; but if they were so placed that she could touch the surface of each coin, the sleep became intense and protracted. still more extraordinary circumstances were related of this patient. in her state of magnetic sleep, she said that a tall black man, or negro, attended her, and prompted the answers she was to give to the various perplexing questions that were put to her. it was also asserted that she could use the back of her hand as an organ of vision. the first time this remarkable phenomenon was said to have been exhibited was a few days prior to the th of july. on the latter day, being in what was called a state of loquacious somnambulism, she was asked by dr. elliotson's assistant whether she had an eye in her hand. she replied that "it was a light there, and not an eye." "have you got a light anywhere else?"--"no, none anywhere else."--"can you see with the inside as well as the out?"--"yes; but very little with the inside." on the th of july bread with butter was given to her, and while eating it she drank some magnetised water, and falling into a stupor dropped her food from her hand and frowned. the eyes, partially closed, had the abstracted aspect that always accompanies stupefaction. the right-hand was open, the palm upwards; the left, with its back presented anteriorly, was relaxed and curved. the bread being lost, she moved her left-hand about convulsively until right over the bread, when a clear view being obtained, the hand turned suddenly round and clutched it eagerly. her hand was afterwards wrapped in a handkerchief; but then she could not see with it, and laid it on her lap with an expression of despair. these are a few only of the wonderful feats of elizabeth okey. jane was not quite so clever; but she nevertheless managed to bewilder the learned men almost as much as her sister. a magnetised sovereign having been placed on the floor, jane, then in the state of delirium, was directed to stoop and pick it up. she stooped, and having raised it about three inches, was fixed in a sound sleep in that constrained position. dr. elliotson pointed his finger at her, to discharge some more of the mesmeric fluid into her, when her hand immediately relaxed its grasp of the coin, and she re-awoke into the state of delirium, exclaiming, "god bless my soul!" it is now time to mention the famous gold-chain experiment which was performed at the hospital upon elizabeth okey, in the presence of count flahault, dr. lardner, mr. knatchbull the professor of arabic in the university of oxford, and many other gentlemen. the object of the experiment was to demonstrate that, when okey held one end of a gold chain, and dr. elliotson, or any other magnetiser, the other, the magnetic fluid would travel through the chain, and, after the lapse of a minute, stupify the patient. a long gold chain having been twice placed around her neck, dr. elliotson at once threw her into a state of stupor. it was then found that, if the intermediate part of the chain were twisted around a piece of wood, or a roll of paper, the passage of the fluid would be checked, and stupor would not so speedily ensue. if the chain were removed, she might be easily thrown into the state of delirium; when she would sing at the request of her magnetiser; and, if the chain were then unrolled, her voice would be arrested in the most gradual manner; its loudness first diminishing--the tune then becoming confused, and finally lost altogether. the operations of her intellect could be checked, while the organs of sound would still continue to exert themselves. for instance, while her thoughts were occupied on the poetry and air of lord byron's song, "the maid of athens," the chain was unrolled; and when she had reached the line, "my life, i love you!" the stupor had increased; a cold statue-like aspect crept over the face--the voice sank--the limbs became rigid--the memory was gone--the faculty of forecasting the thoughts had departed, and but one portion of capacity remained--that of repeating again and again, perhaps twenty times, the line and music which had last issued from her lips, without pause, and in the proper time, until the magnetiser stopped her voice altogether, by further unrolling the chain and stupifying her. on another trial, she was stopped in the comic song, "sir frog he would a wooing go," when she came to the line, "whether his mother would let him or no;" while her left hand outstretched, with the chain in it, was moving up and down, and the right toe was tapping the time on the floor; and with these words and actions she persevered for fifty repetitions, until the winding of the chain re-opened her faculties, when she finished the song. ["lancet," vol. ii. - , p. .] the report from which we have extracted the above passage further informed the public and the medical profession, and expected them to believe, that, when this species of stupefaction was produced while she was employed in any action, the action was repeated as long as the mesmeric influence lasted. for instance, it was asserted that she was once deprived of the motion of every part of her body, except the right forefinger, with which she was rubbing her chin; and that, when thrown into the trance, she continued rubbing her chin for several minutes, until she was unmagnetised, when she ceased. a similar result was obtained when she was smoothing down her hair; and at another time when she was imitating the laughter of the spectators, excited beyond control by her clever mimicry. at another time she was suddenly thrown into the state of delirious stupor while pronouncing the word "you," of which she kept prolonging the sound for several minutes, with a sort of vibrating noise, until she was awakened. at another time, when a magnetised sovereign was given to her, wrapped up in paper, she caught it in her hand, and turned it round flatwise between her fingers, saying that it was wrapped up "very neatly indeed." the mesmeric influence caught her in the remark, which she kept repeating over and over again, all the while twirling the sovereign round and round until the influence in the coin had evaporated. we are also told of a remarkable instance of the force of the magnetic power. while elizabeth okey was one day employed in writing, a sovereign which had been imbued with the fluid was placed upon her boot. in half a minute her leg was paralyzed--rooted to the floor--perfectly immovable at the joints, and visited, apparently, with pain so intense that the girl writhed in agony. "the muscles of the leg were found," says the report, "as rigid and stiff as if they had been carved in wood. when the sovereign was removed, the pain left her in a quarter of a minute. on a subsequent day, a mesmerised sovereign was placed in her left hand as it hung at her side, with the palm turned slightly outwards. the hand and arm were immediately paralyzed--fixed with marble-like firmness." no general stupor having occurred, she was requested to move her arm; but she could not lift it a hair's-breadth from her side. on another occasion, when in a state of delirium, in which she had remained three hours, she was asked to describe her feelings when she handled any magnetised object and went off into the stupor. she had never before, although several times asked, given any information upon the subject. she now replied that, at the moment of losing her senses through any manipulations, she experienced a sensation of opening in the crown of her head; that she never knew when it closed again; but that her eyes seemed to become exceedingly large;--three times as big as before. on recovering from this state, she remembered nothing that had taken place in the interval, whether that interval were hours or days; her only sensation was that of awakening, and of something being lifted from her eyes. the regular publication of these marvellous experiments, authenticated as they were by many eminent names, naturally excited the public attention in an extreme degree. animal magnetism became the topic of discussion in every circle--politics and literature were for a time thrown into the shade, so strange were the facts, or so wonderful was the delusion. the public journals contented themselves in many instances with a mere relation of the results, without giving any opinion as to the cause. one of them which gave a series of reports upon the subject, thus described the girl, and avowed its readiness to believe all that was related of her. [morning post, march , .] "her appearance as she sits, as pale and almost as still as a corpse, is strangely awful. she whistles to oblige dr. elliotson: an incredulous bystander presses his fingers upon her lips; she does not appear conscious of the nature of the interruption; but when asked to continue, replies in childish surprise, 'it can't.' this state of magnetic semi-existence will continue we know not how long. she has continued in it for twelve days at a time, and when awakened to real life forgets all that has occurred in the magnetic one. can this be deception? we have conversed with the poor child her ordinary state as she sat by the fire in her ward, suffering from the headach, which persecutes her almost continually when not under the soothing fluence of the magnetic operation, and we confess we never beheld anybody less likely to prove an impostor. we have seen professor faraday exerting his acute and sagacious powers for an hour together, in the endeavour to detect some physical discrepancy in her performance, or elicit some blush of mental confusion by his naive and startling remarks. but there was nothing which could be detected, and the professor candidly confessed that the matter was beyond his philosophy to unravel." notwithstanding this sincere, and on the point of integrity, unimpeachable evidence in her favour; notwithstanding that she appeared to have no motives for carrying on so extraordinary and long-continued a deception, the girl was an impostor, and all these wise, learned, and contemplative men her dupes. it was some time, however, before this fact was clearly established, and the delusion dissipated by the clear light of truth. in the mean time various other experiments on the efficacy of the supposed magnetic power were tried in various parts of england; but the country did not furnish another epileptic girl so clever as elizabeth okey. an exhibition of the kind was performed on a girl named sarah overton, at the workhouse of the parish of st. martin's-in-the-fields. the magnetiser on this occasion was mr. bainbridge, the parish surgeon. it is but justice to him to state, that he conducted the experiments with the utmost fairness, and did not pretend to produce any of the wondrous and incredible phenomena of other practitioners. this girl, whose age was about twenty, had long been subject to epileptic fits, and appeared remarkably simple and modest in her manners and appearance. she was brought into the room and placed in a chair. about twenty gentlemen were present. mr. bainbridge stationed himself behind, and pointed his fingers at her brain, while his assistant in front made the magnetic passes before her eyes, and over her body. it cannot be said that her imagination was not at work; for she had been previously magnetised, and was brought in with her eyes open, and in complete possession of all her faculties. no means had been taken to prevent interruption during the sitting; new visiters continually arrived, and the noise of the opening and shutting of the door repeatedly called from mr. bainbridge a request that all should be kept silent. the girl herself constantly raised her head to see who was coming in; but still, in direct contradiction to m. dupotet, and, indeed, all the magnetisers, who have repeated over and over again, that interruption destroys the magnetic power, she fell into a deep sleep at the end of about twelve minutes. in this state, which is that called "mesmeric coma," she was quite insensible. though pulled violently by the hair, and pricked on the arm with a pin, she showed no signs of consciousness or feeling. in a short time afterwards, she was awakened into the somnambulic or delirious state, when she began to converse freely with the persons around her, but more especially with her magnetiser. she would sing if required, and even dance in obedience to his command, and pretended to see him although her eyes were closely blindfolded with a handkerchief. she seemed to have a constant tendency to fall back into the state of coma, and had to be aroused with violence every two or three minutes to prevent a relapse. a motion of the hand before her face was sufficient to throw her, in the middle of a song, into this insensible state; but it was observed particularly that she fell at regular intervals, whether any magnetic passes were made at her or not. it was hinted aloud to a person present that he should merely bend his body before her, and she would become insensible, and fall to the ground. the pass was made, and she fell accordingly into the arms of a medical gentleman, who stood behind ready to receive her. the girl having been again aroused into the state of delirium, another person, still audibly, was requested to do the same. he did not; but the girl fell as before. the experiments were sufficient to convince the author that one human being could indubitably exercise a very wonderful influence over another; but that imagination only, and not the mesmeric fluid, was the great agent by which these phenomena could be produced in persons of strong faith and weak bodies. some gentlemen present were desirous of trying whether any of the higher mesmeric states, such as that of lucidity and clairvoyance could be produced. mr. bainbridge was willing to allow the experiment to be made, but previously expressed his own doubts upon the subject. a watch was then put into her bosom, the dial plate and glass against her skin, to ascertain whether she could see without the intervention of the organs of sight. she was asked what hour it was; and was promised a shilling if she would tell by the watch which had been placed in her bosom. she held out her hand for the shilling, and received it with great delight. she was then asked if she could see the watch? she said "no--not a watch; she could see something--something that was very pretty indeed." "come, come, sally," said mr. bainbridge, "you must not be so stupid; rouse up, girl, and tell us what o'clock it is, and i'll give you another shilling!" the girl at this time seemed to be relapsing into a deep sleep; but on being shaken, aroused herself with a convulsive start. in reply to further questions, she said, "she could see a clock, a very pretty clock, indeed!" she was again asked, five or six times, what the hour was: she at last replied that "it was ten minutes to two." the watch being then taken out of her bosom, it was found to be on the stroke of two. every one present, including the magnetiser, confessed that there was nothing wonderful in the conjecture she had hazarded. she knew perfectly well what hour it was before she was brought into the ward, as there was a large clock in the workhouse, and a bell which rang at dinner time; she calculated mentally the interval that had since elapsed, and guessed accordingly. the same watch was afterwards advanced four or five hours, and put into her bosom without a word being said in her hearing. on being again asked what o'clock it was by that watch, and promised another shilling if she would tell, she still replied that it was near two--the actual time. thus, as mr. bainbridge had predicted, the experiment came to nothing. the whole case of this girl offered a striking instance of the power of imagination, but no proof whatever of the supposed existence of the magnetic fluid. the medical committee of the university college hospital took alarm at a very early period at the injury which might be done to that institution, by the exhibitions of okey and her magnetisers. a meeting was held in june , at which dr. elliotson was not present, to take into consideration the reports of the experiments that had been published in the medical journals. resolutions were then passed to the effect, that dr. elliotson should be requested to refrain from further public exhibitions of mesmerism; and, at the same time, stating the wish of the committee not to interfere with its private employment as a remedial agent, if he thought it would be efficacious upon any of the patients of the institution. dr. elliotson replied, that no consideration should prevent him from pursuing the investigation of animal magnetism; but that he had no desire to make a public exhibition of it. he had only given lectures and demonstrations when numbers of scientific gentlemen were present; he still continued to receive numerous letters from learned and eminent men, entreating permission to witness the phenomena; but if the committee willed it, he should admit no person without their sanction. he shortly afterwards sent a list of the names of individuals who were anxious to witness the experiments. the committee returned it to him unread, with the reply that they could not sanction any exhibition that was so entirely foreign to the objects of the hospital. in answer to this, dr. elliotson reiterated his full belief in the doctrines of animal magnetism, and his conviction that his experiments would ultimately throw a light upon the operations of nature, which would equal, if not exceed, that elicited by the greatest discoveries of by-gone ages. the correspondence dropped here; and the experiments continued as usual. the scene, however, was drawing to a close. on the th of august, a notice was published in the lancet, to the effect, that some experiments had been performed on the girls elizabeth and jane okey, at the house of mr. wakley, a report of which was only withheld in the hope that the committee of members of the medical profession, then sitting to investigate the phenomena of mesmerism, would publish their report of what they had witnessed. it was further stated, that whether that committee did or did not publish their report, the result of the experiments at mr. wakley's house should certainly be made known in the next number of that journal. accordingly, on the st of september appeared a statement, which overthrew, in the most complete manner, the delusion of mesmerism. nothing could have been better conducted than these experiments; nothing could be more decisive of the fact, that all the phenomena were purely the results of the excited imaginations of the girls, aided in no slight degree by their wilful deception. the first experiments were performed on the th of august, in the presence of mr. wakley, m. dupotet, dr. elliotson, dr. richardson, mr. herring, mr. clarke, and mr. g. mills the writer of the published reports of the experiments at the university college hospital. dr. elliotson had said, that nickel was capable of retaining and transmitting the magnetic fluid in an extraordinary degree; but that lead possessed no such virtues. the effects of the nickel, he was confident, would be quite astounding; but that lead might always be applied with impunity. a piece of nickel was produced by the doctor, about three quarters of an ounce in weight, together with a piece of lead of the same shape and smoothness, but somewhat larger. elizabeth okey was seated in a chair; and, by a few passes and manipulations, was thrown into the state of "ecstatic delirium." a piece of thick pasteboard was then placed in front of her face, and held in that situation by two of the spectators, so that she could not see what was passing either below or in front of her. mr. wakley having received both the nickel and the lead, seated himself opposite the girl, and applied the lead to each hand alternately, but in such a manner as to lead her to believe that both metals had been used. no effect was produced. the nickel magnetised by dr. elliotson was, after a pause, applied in a similar manner. no results followed. after another pause, the lead was several times applied, and then again the nickel. after the last application of the nickel, the face of the patient became violently flushed, the eyes were convulsed into a startling squint, she fell back in the chair, her breathing was hurried, her limbs rigid, and her back bent in the form of a bow. she remained in this state for a quarter of an hour. this experiment was not considered a satisfactory proof of the magnetic powers of the nickel; and dr. elliotson suggested that, in the second experiment, that metal should alone be tried. mr. wakley was again the operator; but, before commencing, he stated privately to mr. clarke, that instead of using nickel only, he would not employ the nickel at all. mr. clarke, unseen by any person present, took the piece of nickel; put it into his waistcoat pocket; and walked to the window, where he remained during the whole of the experiment. mr. wakley again sat down, employing both hands, but placing his fingers in such a manner, that it was impossible for any person to see what substance he held. presently, on applying his left hand, the girl's vision being still obstructed by the pasteboard, mr. herring, who was standing near, said in a whisper, and with much sincerity, "take care, don't apply the nickel too strongly." immediately the face of the girl became violently red, her eyes were fixed in an intense squint, she fell back convulsively in her chair, and all the previous symptoms were produced more powerfully than before. dr. elliotson observed that the effects were most extraordinary; that no other metal than nickel could produce them, and that they presented a beautiful series of phenomena. this paroxysm lasted half an hour. mr. wakley retired with dr. elliotson and the other gentlemen into an adjoining room, and convinced them that he had used no nickel at all, but a piece of lead and a farthing. this experiment was twice repeated with the same results. a third trial was made with the nickel, but no effect was produced. on the succeeding day the experiments were repeated upon both the sisters, chiefly with mesmerised water and sovereigns. the investigation occupied about five hours, and the following were the results:-- . six wine glasses, filled with water unmesmerised, were placed on a table, and jane okey being called in, was requested to drink from each of them successively. she did so, and no effect was produced. . the same six glasses stood on the table, the water in the fourth having been subjected for a long time to the supposed magnetic influence. she was requested in like manner to drink of these. she did so, and again no effect was produced, although, according to the doctrine of the magnetisers, she ought to have been immediately fixed on drinking of the fourth. . in this experiment the position of the glasses was changed. there was no result. . was a repetition of the foregoing. no result. . the water in all the glasses was subjected to the supposed magnetic influence from the fingers of dr. elliotson, until, in his opinion, it was strongly magnetised. still no result. . the glasses were filled up with fresh water unmesmerised. no result. . the water was strongly magnetised in each glass, and the girl emptied them all. no result. it would be needless to go through the whole series of experiments. the results may be briefly stated. sovereigns unmesmerised threw the girls into convulsions, or fixed them. mesmerised sovereigns sometimes did and sometimes did not produce these symptoms. elizabeth okey became repeatedly fixed when drinking unmagnetised water; while that which had been subjected to the powers of a supposed magnetic battery, produced no results. altogether twenty-nine experiments were tried, which convinced every one present, except dr. elliotson, that animal magnetism was a delusion, that the girls were of very exciteable imaginations, and arrant impostors. their motives for carrying on so extraordinary a deception have often been asked. the question is easily answered. poor girls, unknown and unnoticed, or, if noticed, perhaps despised, they found themselves all at once the observed of all observers, by the really remarkable symptoms of their disease, which it required no aid from magnetism to produce. flattered by the oft-repeated experiments and constant attentions of doctors and learned men, who had begun by deluding themselves, they imagined themselves persons of vast importance, and encouraged by degrees the whims of their physicians, as the means of prolonging the consideration they so unexpectedly enjoyed. constant practice made them at last all but perfect in the parts they were performing; and they failed at last, not from a want of ingenuity, or of a most wonderful power over their own minds, and by their minds upon their bodies, but from the physical impossibility of seeing through a thick pasteboard, or into the closed hands of mr. wakley. the exposure that was made was complete and decisive. from that day forth, magnetism in england has hid its diminished head, and affronted no longer the common sense of the age. m. dupotet is no more heard of, the girls okey afford no more either wonder or amusement by their clever acting, and reason has resumed her sway in the public mind. a few more circumstances remain to be stated. elizabeth okey left the hospital; but was re-admitted some weeks afterwards, labouring under ischuria, a fresh complaint, unconnected with her former malady. as experiments in magnetism were still tried upon her privately, notwithstanding the recent exposure and the all but universal derision of the public, the house committee of the hospital, early in december, met to consider the expediency of expelling the girl. dr. elliotson, on that occasion, expressed his opinion that it was necessary to retain her in the hospital, as she was too ill to be discharged. it was then elicited from the nurse, who was examined by the committee, that okey, when in the state of "magnetic delirium," was in the habit of prophesying the death or recovery of the patients in the ward; that, with the consent of dr. elliotson, she had been led in the twilight into the men's ward, and had prophesied in a similar manner; her predictions being taken down in writing, and given in a sealed paper to the apothecary, to be opened after a certain time, that it might be seen whether they were verified. dr. elliotson did not deny the fact. the nurse also stated more particularly the manner in which the prophecies were delivered. she said that, on approaching the bed of a certain patient, okey gave a convulsive shudder, exclaiming that "great jacky was sitting on the bedclothes!" on being asked to explain herself, she said that great jacky was the angel of death. at the bedside of another patient she shuddered slightly, and said "little jacky was there!" dr. elliotson did not altogether discredit the predictions; but imagined they might ultimately be verified by the death or recovery of the patient. upon the minds of the patients themselves, enfeebled as they were by disease and suffering, the worst effects were produced. one man's death was accelerated by the despondency it occasioned, and the recovery of others was seriously impeded. when these facts became known, the council of the college requested the medical committee to discharge okey and prevent any further exhibitions of animal magnetism in the wards. the latter part of this request having been communicated to dr. elliotson, he immediately sent in his resignation. a successor was afterwards appointed in the person of dr. copland. at his inaugural lecture the students of the college manifested a riotous disposition, called repeatedly for their old instructor, and refused to allow the lecture to proceed; but it appears the disturbance was caused by their respect and affection for dr. elliotson individually, and not from any participation in his ideas about magnetism. extravagant as the vagaries of the english professors of magnetism may appear, they are actual common sense in comparison with the aberrations of the germans. the latter have revived all the exploded doctrines of the rosicrucians; and in an age which is called enlightened, have disinterred from the rubbish of antiquity, the wildest superstitions of their predecessors, and built upon them theories more wild and startling than anything before attempted or witnessed among mankind. paracelsus and bohmen, borri and meyer, with their strange heterogeneous mixture of alchymy and religion, but paved the way for the stranger, and even more extravagant mixture of magnetism and religion, as now practised in germany. magnetism, it is believed, is the key of all knowledge, and opens the door to those forbidden regions where all the wonders of god's works are made clear to the mind of man. the magnetic patient is possessed of all gifts--can converse with myriads of spirits, and even with god himself--be transported with greater rapidity than the lightning's flash to the moon or the stars, and see their inhabitants, and hold converse with them on the wonders and beauties of their separate spheres, and the power and goodness of the god who made them. time and space are to them as if annihilated--nothing is hidden from them--past, present, or future. they divine the laws by which the universe is upheld, and snatch the secrets of the creator from the darkness in which, to all other men, it is enveloped. for the last twenty or thirty years these daring and blasphemous notions have flourished in rank luxuriance; and men of station in society, learning, and apparent good sense in all the usual affairs of life, have publicly given in their adhesion, and encouraged the doctrine by their example, or spread it abroad by their precepts. that the above summary of their tenets may not be deemed an exaggeration we enter into particulars, and refer the incredulous that human folly in the present age could ever be pushed so far, to chapter and verse for every allegation. in a work published in germany in , by j. a. l. richter, entitled "considerations on animal magnetism," the author states that in magnetism is to be found the solution of the enigmas of human existence, and particularly the enigmas of christianity, on the mystic and obscure parts of which it throws a light which permits us to gaze clearly on the secrets of the mystery. wolfart's "annals of animal magnetism" abound with similar passages; and kluge's celebrated work is written in the same spirit. "such is the wonderful sympathy," says the latter, "between the magnetiser and the somnambulist that he has known the latter to vomit and be purged in consequence of medicine which the former had taken. whenever he put pepper on his tongue, or drank wine, the patient could taste these things distinctly on her palate." but kerner's history of the case of madame hauffe, the famous magnetic woman, "seer" or "prophetess of prevorst," will give a more complete and melancholy proof of the sad wanderings of these german "men of science," than any random selections we might make from their voluminous works. this work was published in two volumes, and the authenticity of its details supported by gorres, eschenmeyer, and other men of character and reputation in germany: it is said to have had an immense sale. she resided in the house of kerner, at weinsberg; and being weak and sickly, was very easily thrown into a state of somnambulism. "she belonged," says kerner, "to a world of spirits; she was half spirit herself; she belonged to the region beyond death, in which she already half existed. * * * her body clothed her spirit like a thin veil. * * * she was small and slightly made, had an oriental expression of countenance, and the piercing eyes of a prophet, the gleams of which were increased in their power and beauty by her long dark eyebrows and eyelashes. she was a flower of light, living upon sunbeams. * * * her spirit often seemed to be separated from her frame. the spirits of all things, of which mankind in general have no perception, were perceptible to and operated upon her, more particularly the spirits of metals, herbs, men, and animals. all imponderable matters, even the rays of light, had an effect upon her when she was magnetised." the smell of flint was very agreeable to her. salt laid on her hand caused a flow of saliva: rock crystal laid on the pit of her stomach produced rigidity of the whole body. red grapes produced certain effects, if placed in her hands; white grapes produced different effects. the bone of an elk would throw her into an epileptic fit. the tooth of a mammoth produced a feeling of sluggishness. a spider's web rolled into a ball produced a prickly feeling in the hands, and a restlessness in the whole body. glow-worms threw her into the magnetic sleep. music somnambulised her. when she wanted to be cheerful, she requested kerner to magnetise the water she drank, by playing the jew's-harp. she used to say in her sleep, "magnetise the water by seven vibrations of the harp." if she drank water magnetised in this manner, she was constrained involuntarily to pour forth her soul in song. the eyes of many men threw her into the state of somnambulism. she said that in those eyes there was a spiritual spark, which was the mirror of the soul. if a magnetised rod were laid on her right eye, every object on which she gazed appeared magnified. it was by this means that she was enabled to see the inhabitants of the moon. she said, that on the left side of the moon, the inhabitants were great builders, and much happier than those on the right side. "i often see," said she to her magnetiser, "many spirits with whom i do not come into contact. others come to me, and i speak to them; and they often spend months in my company. i hear and see other things at the same time; but i cannot turn my eyes from the spirits; they are in magnetic rapport with me. they look like clouds, thin, but not transparent; though, at first, they seem so. still, i never saw one which cast a shadow. their form is similar to that which they possessed when alive; but colourless, or grey. they wear clothing; and it appears as if made of clouds, also colourless and misty grey. the brighter and better spirits wear long garments, which hang in graceful folds, with belts around their waists. the expression of their features is sad and solemn. their eyes are bright, like fire; but none of them that i ever saw had hair upon their heads. they make noises when they wish to excite the attention of those who have not the gift of seeing them. these noises consist of sounds in the air, sometimes sudden and sharp, and causing a shock. sometimes the sounds are plaintive and musical; at other times they resemble the rustling of silk, the falling of sand, or the rolling of a ball. the better spirits are brighter than the bad ones, and their voice is not so strong. many, particularly the dark, sad spirits, when i uttered words of religious consolation, sucked them in, as it were; and i saw them become brighter and quite glorious in consequence: but i became weaker. most of the spirits who come to me are of the lowest regions of the spiritual world, which are situated just above our atmosphere. they were, in their life, grovelling and low-minded people, or such as did not die in the faith of jesus; or else such as, in expiring, clung to some earthly thought or affection, which now presses upon them, and prevents them from soaring up to heaven. i once asked a spirit whether children grew after death? 'yes,' replied the spirit,' the soul gradually expands, until it becomes as large as it would have been on earth. i cannot effect the salvation of these spirits; i am only their mediator. i pray ardently with them, and so lead them by degrees to the great saviour of the world. it costs an infinity of trouble before such a soul turns again to the lord.'" it would, however, serve no good purpose to extend to greater length the reveries of this mad woman, or to set down one after the other the names of the magnetisers who encouraged her in her delusions--being themselves deluded. to wade through these volumes of german mysticism is a task both painful and disgusting--and happily not necessary. enough has been stated to show how gross is the superstition even of the learned; and that errors, like comets, run in one eternal cycle--at their apogee in one age, at their perigee in the next, but returning in one phase or another for men to wonder at. in england the delusion of magnetism may for the present be considered as fairly exploded. taking its history from the commencement, and tracing it to our own day, it can hardly be said, delusion though it was, that it has been wholly without its uses. to quote the words of bailly, in , "magnetism has not been altogether unavailing to the philosophy which condemns it: it is an additional fact to record among the errors of the human mind, and a great experiment on the strength of the imagination." over that vast inquiry of the influence of mind over matter,--an inquiry which the embodied intellect of mankind will never be able to fathom completely,--it will, at least, have thrown a feeble and imperfect light. it will have afforded an additional proof of the strength of the unconquerable will, and the weakness of matter as compared with it; another illustration of the words of the inspired psalmist, that "we are fearfully and wonderfully made." if it serve no other purpose than this, its history will prove useful. truth ere now has been elicited by means of error; and animal magnetism, like other errors, may yet contribute its quota towards the instruction and improvement of mankind. the end. 'farewell, nikola' [illustration: "he swept his fingers over the strings ... and commenced to sing." (page .)] 'farewell, nikola' by guy boothby author of 'dr. nikola,' 'the beautiful white devil,' 'pharos, the egyptian,' etc. illustrated by harold piffard london ward, lock & co., limited new york and melbourne list of illustrations page he swept his fingers over the strings ... and commenced to sing _frontispiece_ he pressed a spring in the wall presently a picture shaped itself in the cloud throwing open the secret door ... he confronted them he laid his hand upon her forehead "put down your pistols," said nikola he crawled upon the floor like a dog she knelt, with arms outstretched, in supplication 'farewell, nikola' chapter i we were in venice; venice the silent and mysterious; the one european city of which i never tire. my wife had not enjoyed good health for some months past, and for this reason we had been wintering in southern italy. after that we had come slowly north, spending a month in florence, and a fortnight in rome _en route_, until we found ourselves in venice, occupying a suite of apartments at galaghetti's famous hotel overlooking the grand canal. our party was a small one; it consisted of my wife, her friend, gertrude trevor, and myself, richard hatteras, once of the south sea islands, but now of the new forest, hampshire, england. it may account for our fondness of venice when i say that four years previous we had spent the greater part of our honeymoon there. whatever the cause may have been, however, there could be no sort of doubt that the grand old city, with its palaces and churches, its associations stretching back to long-forgotten centuries, and its silent waterways, possessed a great fascination for us. we were never tired of exploring it, finding something to interest us in even the most out-of-the-way corners. in miss trevor we possessed a charming companion, a vital necessity, as you will admit, when people travel together. she was an uncommon girl in more ways than one; a girl, so it seems to me, england alone is able to produce. she could not be described as a pretty girl, but then the word "pretty" is one that sometimes comes perilously near carrying contempt with it; one does not speak of venus de medici as pretty, nor would one describe the apollo belvedere as very nice-looking. that miss trevor was exceedingly handsome would, i fancy, be generally admitted. at any rate she would command attention wherever she might go, and that is an advantage which few of us possess. should a more detailed description of her be necessary, i might add that she was tall and dark, with black hair and large luminous eyes that haunted one, and were suggestive of a southern ancestor. she was the daughter, and indeed the only child, of the well-known dean of bedminster, and this was the first time she had visited italy, or that she had been abroad. the wonders of the art country were all new to her, and in consequence our wanderings were one long succession of delight. every day added some new pleasure to her experiences, while each night saw a life desire gratified. in my humble opinion, to understand italy properly one should not presume to visit her until after the first blush of youth has departed, and then only when one has prepared oneself to properly appreciate her many beauties. venice, above all others, is a city that must be taken seriously. to come at a proper spirit of the place one must be in a reverent mood. cheap jokes and cockney laughter are as unsuited to the place, where falieri yielded his life, as a downcast face would be in nice at carnival time. on the afternoon of the particular day from which i date my story, we had been to the island of murano to pay a visit to the famous glass factories of which it is the home. by the time we reached venice once more it was nearly sunset. having something like an hour to spare we made our way, at my wife's suggestion, to the florian _café_ on the piazza of saint mark in order to watch the people. as usual the place was crowded, and at first glance it looked as if we should be unable to find sufficient vacant chairs. fortune favoured us, however, and when we had seated ourselves and i had ordered coffee, we gave ourselves up to the enjoyment of what is perhaps one of the most amusing scenes in venice. to a thoughtful mind the great square must at all times be an object of absorbing interest. i have seen it at every hour, and under almost every aspect: at break of day, when one has it to oneself and is able to enjoy its beauty undisturbed; at midday, when the importunate shop-keepers endeavour to seduce one into entering their doors (by tales of the marvels therein); at sunset, when the _cafés_ are crowded, the band plays, and all is merriment; and last, but not least, at midnight, when the moon is sailing above saint mark's, the square is full of strange shadows, and the only sound to be heard is the cry of a gull on the lagoon, or the "_sa premi_" of some belated gondolier. "this is the moment to which i have looked forward all my life," said miss trevor, as she sat back in her chair and watched the animated crowd before her. "look at that pretty little boy with the pigeons flocking round him. what a picture he would make if one only had a camera." "if you care to have a photo of him one can easily be obtained," i remarked. "any one of these enterprising photographers would be only too pleased to take one for you for a few centissimi. i regret to say that many of our countrymen have a weakness for being taken in that way." "fancy septimus brown, of tooting," my wife remarked, "a typical english paterfamilias, with a green veil, blue spectacles, and white umbrella, daring to ask the sun to record his image with the pigeons of st. mark's clustering about his venerable head. can't you picture the pride of that worthy gentleman's family when they produce the album on sunday afternoons and show it to their friends? 'this is pa,' the eldest girl will probably remark, 'when he was travelling in venice' (as if venice were a country in which one must be perpetually moving on), 'and that's how the pigeons came down to him to be fed. isn't it splendid of him?' papa, who has never ventured beyond brighton beach before, will be a person of importance from that moment." "you forget one circumstance, however," miss trevor replied, who enjoyed an argument, and for this reason contradicted my wife on principle, "that in allowing himself to be taken at all, brown of tooting has advanced a step. for the moment he dared to throw off his insularity, as the picture at which you are laughing is indisputable testimony. do you think he would dare to be photographed in a similar fashion in his own market-place, standing outside his shop-door with his assistants watching him from behind the counter? i am quite sure he would not!" "a very excellent argument," i answered. "unfortunately, however, it carries with it its own refutation. the mere fact that brown takes the photograph home to show to his friends goes a long way towards proving that he is still as insular as when he set out. if he did not consider himself of sufficient importance to shut out a portion of saint mark's with his voluminous personality, he would not have employed the photographer at all, in which case we are no further advanced than before." these little sparring-matches were a source of great amusement to us. the cockney tourist was miss trevor's _bête noir_. and upon this failing my wife and i loved to twit her. on the whole i rather fancy she liked being teased by us. we had finished our coffee and were still idly watching the people about us when i noticed that my wife had turned a little pale. i was about to remark upon it, when she uttered an exclamation as if something had startled her. "good gracious! dick," she cried, "surely it is not possible. it must be a mistake." "what is it cannot be possible?" i inquired. "what do you think you see?" i glanced in the direction she indicated, but could recognize no one with whom i was acquainted. an english clergyman and his daughter were sitting near the entrance to the _café_, and some officers in uniform were on the other side of them again, but still my wife was looking in the same direction and with an equally startled face. i placed my hand upon her arm. it was a long time since i had seen her so agitated. "come, darling," i said, "tell me what it is that troubles you." "look," she answered, "can you see the table a little to the right of that at which those officers are seated?" i was about to reply in the affirmative, but the shock i received deprived me of speech. the person to whom my wife referred had risen from his chair, and was in the act of walking towards us. i looked at him, looked away, and then looked again. no! there was no room for doubt; the likeness was unmistakable. i should have known him anywhere. _he was doctor nikola_; the man who had played such an important part in our life's drama. five years had elapsed since i had last seen him, but in that time he was scarcely changed at all. it was the same tall, thin figure; the same sallow, clean-shaven face; the same piercing black eyes. as he drew nearer i noticed that his hair was a little more grey, that he looked slightly older; otherwise he was unchanged. but why was he coming to us? surely he did not mean to speak to us? after the manner in which he had treated us in by-gone days i scarcely knew how to receive him. he on his side, however, was quite self-possessed. raising his hat with that easy grace that always distinguished him, he advanced and held out his hand to my wife. "my dear lady hatteras," he began in his most conciliatory tone, "i felt sure you would recognize me. observing that you had not forgotten me, i took the liberty of coming to pay my respects to you." then before my wife could reply he had turned to me and was holding out his hand. for a moment i had half determined not to take it, but when his glittering eyes looked into mine i changed my mind and shook hands with him more cordially than i should ever have thought it possible for me to do. having thus broken the ice, and as we had to all intents and purposes permitted him to derive the impression that we were prepared to forgive the past, nothing remained for us but to introduce him to miss trevor. from the moment that he had approached us she had been watching him covertly, and that he had produced a decided impression upon her was easily seen. for the first time since we had known her she, usually so staid and unimpressionable, was nervous and ill at ease. the introduction effected she drew back a little, and pretended to be absorbed in watching a party of our fellow-countrymen who had taken their places at a table a short distance from us. for my part i do not mind confessing that i was by no means comfortable. i remembered my bitter hatred of nikola in days gone by. i recalled that terrible house in port said, and thought of the night on the island when i had rescued my wife from his clutches. in my estimation then he had been a villain of the deepest dye, and yet here he was sitting beside me as calm and collected, and apparently as interested in the _résumé_ of our travels in italy that my wife was giving him, as if we had been bosom friends throughout our lives. in any one else it would have been a piece of marvellous effrontery; in nikola's case, however, it did not strike one in the same light. as i have so often remarked, he seemed incapable of acting like any other human being. his extraordinary personality lent a glamour to his simplest actions, and demanded for them an attention they would scarcely have received had he been less endowed. "have you been long in venice?" my wife inquired when she had completed the record of our doings, feeling that she must say something. "i seldom remain anywhere for very long," he answered, with one of his curious smiles. "i come and go like a will-o'-the-wisp; i am here to-day and gone to-morrow." it may have been an unfortunate remark, but i could not help uttering it. "for instance, you are in london to-day," i said, "in port said next week, and in the south sea islands a couple of months later." he was not in the least disconcerted. "ah! i see you have not forgotten our south sea adventure," he replied cheerfully. "how long ago it seems, does it not? to me it is like a chapter out of another life." then, turning to miss trevor, who of course had heard the story of our dealings with him sufficiently often to be weary of it, he added, "i hope you are not altogether disposed to think ill of me. perhaps some day you will be able to persuade lady hatteras to forgive me, that is to say if she has not already done so. yet i do not know why i should plead for pardon, seeing that i am far from being in a repentant mood. as a matter of fact i am very much afraid that, should the necessity arise, i should be compelled to act as i did then." "then let us pray most fervently that the necessity may never arise," i answered. "i for one do not entertain a very pleasant recollection of that time." i spoke so seriously that my wife looked sharply up at me. fearing, i suppose, that i might commit myself, she added quickly-- "i trust it may not. for i can assure you, doctor nikola, that my inclinations lie much nearer bond street than the south sea islands." all this time miss trevor said nothing, but i could tell from the expression upon her face that nikola interested her more than she would have been willing to admit. "is it permissible to ask where you are staying?" he inquired, breaking the silence and speaking as if it were a point upon which he was most anxious to be assured. "at galaghetti's," i answered. "while in venice we always make it our home." "ah! the good galaghetti," said nikola softly. "it is a long time since i last had the pleasure of seeing him. i fancy, however, he would remember me. i was able to do him a slight service some time ago, and i have always understood that he possesses a retentive memory." then, doubtless feeling that he had stayed long enough, he rose and prepared to take leave of us. "perhaps, lady hatteras, you will permit me to do myself the honour of calling upon you?" he said. "we shall be very pleased to see you," my wife replied, though with no real cordiality. he then bowed to miss trevor, and shook hands with myself. "good-bye, hatteras," he continued. "i shall hope soon to see you again. i expect we have lots of news for each other, and doubtless you will be interested to learn the history and subsequent adventures of that peculiar little stick which caused you so much anxiety, and myself so much trouble, five years ago. my address is the palace revecce, in the rio del consiglio, where, needless to say, i shall be delighted to see you if you care to pay me a visit." i thanked him for his invitation, and promised that i would call upon him. then with a bow he took his departure, leaving behind him a sensation of something missing, something that could not be replaced. to sit down and continue the conversation where he had broken into it was out of the question. we accordingly rose, and after i had discharged the bill, strolled across the piazza towards the lagoon. observing that miss trevor was still very silent, i inquired the cause. "if you really want me to tell you, i can only account for it by saying that your friend, doctor nikola, has occasioned it," she answered. "i don't know why it should be so, but that man has made a curious impression upon me." "he seems to affect every one in a different manner," i said, and for some reason made no further comment upon her speech. when we had called a gondola, and were on our way back to our hotel, she referred to the subject again. "i think i ought to tell you that it is not the first time i have seen doctor nikola," she said. "you may remember that yesterday, while phyllis was lying down, i went out to do some shopping. i cannot describe exactly which direction i took, save that i went towards the rialto. it is sufficient that in the end i reached a chemist's shop. it was only a small place, and very dark, so dark indeed that i did not see that it contained another customer until i was really inside. then i noticed a tall man busily engaged in conversation with the shopman. he was declaiming against some drugs he had purchased there on the previous day, and demanding that for the future they should be of better quality, otherwise he would be compelled to take his patronage elsewhere. in the middle of this harangue he turned round, and i was permitted an opportunity of seeing his face. he was none other than your friend, doctor nikola." "but, my dear gertrude," said phyllis, "with all due respect to your narrative, i do not see that the mere fact of your having met doctor nikola in a chemist's shop yesterday, and your having been introduced to him to-day, should have caused you so much concern." "i do not know why it should," she answered, "but it is a fact, nevertheless. ever since i saw him yesterday, his face, with its terrible eyes, has haunted me. i dreamt of it last night. all day long i have had it before me, and now, as if to add to the strangeness of the coincidence, he proves to be the man of whom you have so often told me--your demoniacal, fascinating nikola. you must admit that it is very strange." "a coincidence, a mere coincidence, that is all," i replied. "nikola possesses an extraordinary face, and it must have impressed itself more deeply upon you than the average countenance is happy enough to do." whether my explanation satisfied her or not, she said no more upon the subject. but that our strange meeting with nikola had had an extraordinary effect upon her was plainly observable. as a rule she was as bright and merry a companion as one could wish to have; on this particular evening, however, she was not herself at all. it was the more annoying for the reason that i was anxious that she should shine on this occasion, as i was expecting an old friend, who was going to spend a few days with us in venice. that friend was none other than the duke of glenbarth, who previous to his succession to the dukedom had been known as the marquis of beckenham, and who, as the readers of the history of my adventures with doctor nikola may remember, figured as a very important factor in that strange affair. ever since the day when i had the good fortune to render him a signal service in the bay of a certain south-coast watering-place, and from the time that he had accepted my invitation to join us in venice, i had looked forward to his coming with the greatest possible eagerness. as it happened it was well-nigh seven o'clock by the time we reached our hotel. without pausing in the hall further than to examine the letter-rack, we ascended to our rooms on the floor above. my wife and miss trevor had gone to their apartments, and i was about to follow their example as soon as i had obtained something from the sitting-room. "a nice sort of host, a very nice host," said a laughing voice as i entered. "he invites me to stay with him, and is not at home to bid me welcome. my dear old dick, how are you?" "my dear fellow," i cried, hastening forward to greet him, "i must beg your pardon ten thousand times. i had not the least idea that you would be here so early. we have been sitting on the piazza, and did not hurry home." "you needn't apologize," he answered. "for once an italian train was before its time. and now tell me about yourself. how is your wife, how are you, and what sort of holiday are you having?" i answered his questions to the best of my ability, keeping back my most important item as a surprise for him. "and now," i said, "it is time to dress for dinner. but before you do so, i have some important news for you. who do you think is in venice?" needless to say he mentioned every one but the right person. "you had better give it up, you will never guess," i said. "who is the most unlikely person you would expect to see in venice at the present moment?" "old macpherson, my solicitor," he replied promptly. "the rascal would no more think of crossing the channel than he would contemplate standing on his head in the middle of the strand. it must be macpherson." "nonsense," i cried. "i don't know macpherson in the first place, and i doubt if he would interest me in the second. no! no! this man is neither a scotchman nor a lawyer. he is an individual bearing the name of nikola." i had quite expected to surprise him, but i scarcely looked for such an outbreak of astonishment. "what?" he cried, in amazement. "you must be joking. you don't mean to say that you have seen nikola again?" "i not only mean that i have seen him," i replied, "but i will go further than that, and say that he was sitting on the piazza with us not more than half-an-hour ago. what do you think his appearance in venice means?" "i don't know what to think," he replied, with an expression of almost comic bewilderment upon his face. "it seems impossible, and yet you don't look as if you were joking." "i tell you the news in all sober earnestness," i answered, dropping my bantering tone. "it is a fact that nikola is in venice, and, what is more, that he has given me his address. he has invited me to call upon him, and if you like we will go together. what do you say?" "i shall have to take time to think about it," glenbarth replied seriously. "i don't suppose for a moment he has any intention of abducting me again; nevertheless, i am not going to give him the opportunity. by jove, how that fellow's face comes back to me. it haunts me!" "miss trevor has been complaining of the same thing," i said. "miss trevor?" the duke repeated. "and pray who may miss trevor be?" "a friend of my wife's," i answered. "she has been travelling with us for the last few months. i think you will like her. and now come along with me and i'll show you your room. i suppose your man has discovered it by this time?" "stevens would find it if this hotel were constructed on the same principle as the maze at hampton court," he answered. "he has the virtue of persistence, and when he wants to find a thing he secures the person who would be the most likely to tell him, and sticks to him until his desire has been gratified." it turned out as he had predicted, and three-quarters of an hour later our quartet sat down to dinner. my wife and glenbarth, by virtue of an old friendship, agreed remarkably well, while miss trevor, now somewhat recovered from her nikola indisposition, was more like her old self. it was a beautiful night, and after dinner it was proposed, seconded, and carried unanimously, that we should charter a gondola and go for a row upon the canal. on our homeward voyage the gondolier, by some strange chance, turned into the rio del consiglio. "perhaps you can tell me which is the palace revecce?" i said to the man. he pointed to a building we were in the act of approaching. "there it is, signor," he said. "at one time it was a very great palace but now--" here he shrugged his shoulders to enable us to understand that its glory had departed from it. not another word was said upon the subject, but i noticed that all our faces turned in the direction of the building. with the exception of one solitary window it was in total darkness. as i looked at the latter i wondered whether nikola were in the room, and if so, what he was doing? was he poring over some of his curious books, trying some new experiment in chemistry, or putting to the test some theory such as i had found him at work upon in that curious house in port said? a few minutes later we had left the rio del consiglio behind us, had turned to the right, and were making our way back by another watery thoroughfare towards the grand canal. "thanks to your proposition we have had a delightful evening," miss trevor said, as we paused to say good-night at the foot of the staircase a quarter of an hour or so later. "i have enjoyed myself immensely." "you should not tell him that, dear," said my wife. "you know how conceited he is already. he will take all the credit, and be unbearable for days afterwards." then turning to me, she added, "you are going to smoke, i suppose?" "i had thought of doing so," i replied; and then added with mock humility, "if you do not wish it of course i will not do so. i was only going to keep glenbarth company." they laughed and bade us good-night, and when we had seen them depart in the direction of their rooms we lit our cigars and passed into the balcony outside. at this hour of the night the grand canal looked very still and beautiful, and we both felt in the humour for confidences. "do you know, hatteras," said glenbarth, after the few moments' pause that followed our arrival in the open air, "that nikola's turning up in venice at this particular juncture savours to me a little of the uncanny. what his mission may be, of course i cannot tell, but that it is some diabolical thing or another i haven't a doubt." "one thing is quite certain," i answered, "he would hardly be here without an object, and, after our dealings with him in the past, i am prepared to admit that i don't trust him any more than you do." "and now that he has asked you to call upon him what are you going to do?" i paused before i replied. the question involved greater responsibilities than were at first glance apparent. knowing nikola so well, i had not the least desire or intention to be drawn into any of the plots or machinations he was so fond of working against other people. i must confess, nevertheless, that i could not help feeling a large amount of curiosity as to the subsequent history of that little stick, to obtain which he had spent so much money, and had risked so many lives. "yes, i think i shall call upon him," i said reflectively, as if i had not quite made up my mind. "surely to see him once more could do no harm? good heavens! what an extraordinary fellow he is! fancy you or i being afraid of any other man as we are afraid of him, for mind you, i know that you stand quite as much in awe of him as i do. why, do you know when my eyes fell upon him this afternoon i felt a return of the old dread his presence used to cause in me five years ago! the effect he had upon miss trevor was also very singular, when you come to think of it." "by the way, hatteras, talking of miss trevor, what an awfully nice girl she is. i don't know when i have ever met a nicer. who is she?" "she is the daughter of the dean of bedminster," i answered; "a splendid old fellow." "i like his daughter," the duke remarked. "yes, i must say that i like her very much." i was glad to hear this, for i had my own little dreams, and my wife, who, by the way, is a born matchmaker, had long ago come to a similar conclusion. "she is a very nice girl," i replied, "and what is more, she is as good as she is nice." then i continued, "he will be indeed a lucky man who wins gertrude trevor for his wife. and now, since our cigars are finished, what do you say to bed? it is growing late, and i expect you are tired after your journey." "i am quite ready," he answered. "i shall sleep like a top. i only hope and pray that i shall not dream of nikola." chapter ii whether it was our excursion upon the canal that was responsible for it i cannot say; the fact, however, remains, that next morning every member of our party was late for breakfast. my wife and i were the first to put in an appearance, glenbarth followed shortly after, and miss trevor was last of all. it struck me that the girl looked a little pale as she approached the window to bid me good-morning, and as she prided herself upon her punctuality, i jestingly reproved her for her late rising. "i am afraid your gondola excursion proved too much for you," i said, in a bantering tone, "or perhaps you dreamt of doctor nikola." i expected her to declare in her usual vehement fashion that she would not waste her time dreaming of any man, but to my combined astonishment and horror her eyes filled with tears, until she was compelled to turn her head away in order to hide them from me. it was all so unexpected that i did not know what to think. as may be supposed, i had not the slightest intention of giving her pain, nor could i quite see how i managed to do so. it was plain, however, that my thoughtless speech had been the means of upsetting her, and i was heartily sorry for my indiscretion. fortunately my wife had not overheard what had passed between us. "is he teasing you again, gertrude?" she said, as she slipped her arm through her friend's. "take my advice and have nothing to do with him. treat him with contempt. besides, the coffee is getting cold, and that is a very much more important matter. let us sit down to breakfast." nothing could have been more opportune. we took our places at the table, and by the time the servant had handed the first dishes miss trevor had recovered herself sufficiently to be able to look me in the face, and to join in the conversation without the likelihood of a catastrophe. still there could be no doubt that she was far from being in a happy frame of mind. i said as much to my wife afterwards, when we were alone together. "she told me she had had a very bad night," the little woman replied. "our meeting with doctor nikola yesterday on the piazza upset her for some reason or another. she said that she had dreamt of nothing else. as you know she is very highly strung, and when you think of the descriptions we have given her of him, it is scarcely to be wondered at that she should attach an exaggerated importance to our unexpected meeting with him. that is the real explanation of the mystery. one thing, however, is quite certain; in her present state of mind she must see no more of him than can be helped. it might upset her altogether. oh, why did he come here to spoil our holiday?" "i cannot see that he has spoilt it, my dear," i returned, putting my arm round her waist and leading her to the window. "the girl will very soon recover from her fit of depression, and afterwards will be as merry as a marriage-bell. by the way, i don't know why i should think of it just now, but talking of marriage-bells reminds me that glenbarth told me last night that he thought gertrude one of the nicest girls he had ever met." "i am delighted to hear it," my wife answered. "and still more delighted to think that he has such good sense. do you know, i have set my heart upon that coming to something. no! you needn't shake your head. for very many reasons it would be a most desirable match." "for my own part i believe it was for no other reason that you bothered me into inviting him to join our party here. you are a matchmaker. i challenge you to refute the accusation." "i shall not attempt to do so," she retorted with considerable hauteur. "it is always a waste of time to argue with you. at any rate you must agree with me that gertrude would make an ideal duchess." "so you have travelled as far as that, have you?" i inquired. "i must say that you jump to conclusions very quickly. because glenbarth happens to have said in confidence to me (a confidence i am willing to admit i have shamefully abused) that he considers gertrude trevor a very charming girl, it does not follow that he has the very slightest intention of asking her to be his wife. why should he?" "if he doesn't he is not fit to sit in the house of lords," she answered, as if that ought to clinch the argument. "fancy a man posing as one of our hereditary legislators who doesn't know how to seize such a golden opportunity. as a good churchwoman i pray for the nobility every sunday morning; and if not knowing where to look for the best wife in the world may be taken as a weakness, and it undoubtedly is, then all i can say is, that they require all the praying for they can get!" "but i should like to know, how is he going to marry the best wife in the world?" i asked. "by asking her," she retorted. "he doesn't surely suppose she is going to ask him?" "if he values his life he'd better not do that!" i said savagely. "he will have to answer for it to me if he does!" "ah," she answered, her lips curling, "i thought as much. you are jealous of him. you don't want him to ask her because you fancy that if he does your reign will be over. a nice admission for a married man, i must say!" "i presume you mean because i refuse to allow him to flirt with my wife?" "i mean nothing of the kind, and you know it. how dare you say, dick, that i flirt with the duke?" "because you have confessed it," i answered with a grin of triumph, for i had got her cornered at last. "did you not say, only a moment ago, that if he did not know where to find the best wife in the world he was unfit to sit in the house of lords? did you not say that he ought to be ashamed of himself if he did not ask her to be his wife? answer that, my lady." "i admit that i did say it; but you know very well that i referred to gertrude trevor!" "gertrude trevor is not yet a wife. the best wife in the world is beside me now; and since you are already proved to be in the wrong you must perforce pay the penalty." she was in the act of doing so when gertrude entered the room. "oh, dear," she began, hesitating in pretended consternation, "is there never to be an end of it?" "an end of what?" demanded my wife with some little asperity, for she does not like her little endearments to be witnessed by other people. "of this billing and cooing," the other replied. "you two insane creatures have been married more than four years, and yet a third person can never enter the room without finding you love-making. i declare it upsets all one's theories of marriage. one of my most cherished ideas was that this sort of thing ceased with the honeymoon, and that the couple invariably lead a cat-and-dog life for the remainder of their existence." "so they do," my wife answered unblushingly. "and what can you expect when one is a great silly creature who will not learn to jump away and be looking innocently out of the window when he hears the handle turned? never marry, gertrude. mark my words: you will repent it if you do!" "well, for ingratitude and cool impudence, that surpasses everything!" i said in astonishment. "why, you audacious creature, not more than five minutes ago you were inviting me to co-operate in the noble task of finding a husband for miss trevor!" "richard, how can you stand there and say such things?" she ejaculated. "gertrude, my dear, i insist that you come away at once. i don't know what he will say next." miss trevor laughed. "i like to hear you two squabbling," she said. "please go on, it amuses me!" "yes, i will certainly go on," i returned. "perhaps you heard her declare that she fears what i may say next. of course she does. allow me to tell you, lady hatteras, that you are a coward. if the truth were known, it would be found that you are trembling in your shoes at this moment. for two centimes, paid down, i would turn queen's evidence, and reveal the whole plot." "you had better not, sir," she replied, shaking a warning finger at me. "in that case the letters from home shall be withheld from you, and you will not know how your son and heir is progressing." "i capitulate," i answered. "threatened by such awful punishment i dare say no more. miss gertrude, will you not intercede for me?" "i think that you scarcely deserve it," she retorted. "even now you are keeping something back from me." "never mind, my dear, we'll let him off this time with a caution," said my wife, "provided he promises not to offend again. and now let us settle what we are going to do to-day." when this important matter had been arranged, it was reported to us that the ladies were to spend the morning shopping, leaving the duke and myself free to follow our own inclinations. accordingly, when we had seen them safely on their way to the merceria, we held a smoking council to arrange how we should pass the hours until lunch-time. as we discovered afterwards, we both had a certain thought in our minds, which for some reason we scarcely liked to broach to each other. it was settled, however, just as we desired, but in a fashion we least expected. we were seated in the balcony outside our room, watching the animated traffic on the grand canal below, when a servant came in search of us and handed me a note. one glance at the characteristic writing was sufficient to show me that it was from doctor nikola. i opened it with an eagerness that i did not attempt to conceal, and read as follows-- "dear hatteras, "if you have nothing more important on hand this morning, can you spare the time to come and see me? as i understand the duke of glenbarth is with you, will you not bring him also? it will be very pleasant to have a chat upon by-gone days, and, what is more, i fancy this old house will interest you. "yours very truly, "nikola." "what do you say?" i inquired, when i had finished reading, "shall we go?" "let us do so by all means," the duke replied. "it will be very interesting to meet nikola once more. there is one thing, however, that puzzles me; how did he become aware of my arrival in venice? you say he was with you on the piazza last night, so that he could not have been at the railway station, and as i haven't been outside since i came, except for the row after dinner, i confess it puzzles me." "you should know by this time that it is useless to wonder how nikola acquires his knowledge," i replied. "for my own part i should like to discover _his_ reason for being in venice. i am very curious on that point." glenbarth shook his head solemnly. "if nikola does not want us to know," he argued, "we shall leave his house as wise as we entered it. if he _does_ let us know, i shall begin to grow suspicious, for in that case it is a thousand pounds to this half-smoked cigar that we shall be called upon to render him assistance. however, if you are prepared to run the risk i will do so also." "in that case," i said, rising from my chair and tossing what remained of my cigar into the water below, "let us get ready and be off. we may change our minds." ten minutes later we had chartered a gondola and were on our way to the palace revecce. as a general rule when one sets out to pay a morning call one is not the victim of any particular nervousness; on this occasion however both glenbarth and i, as we confessed to each other afterwards, were distinctly conscious of being in a condition which would be described by persons of mature years as an unpleasant state of expectancy, but which by school-boys is denominated "funk." the duke, i noticed, fidgeted with his cigar, allowed it to go out, and then sat with it in his mouth unlighted. there was a far-away look on his handsome face that told me that he was recalling some of the events connected with the time when he had been in nikola's company. this proved to be the case, for as we turned from the grand canal into the street in which the palace is situated, he said-- "by the way, hatteras, i wonder what became of baxter, prendergrast, and those other fellows?" "nikola may be able to tell us," i answered. then i added after a short pause, "by jove, what strange times those were." "not half so strange to my thinking as our finding nikola in venice," glenbarth replied. "that is the coincidence that astonishes me. but see, here we are." as he spoke the gondola drew up at the steps of the palace revecce, and we prepared to step ashore. as we did so i noticed that the armorial bearings of the family still decorated the posts on either side of the door, but by the light of day the palace did not look nearly so imposing as it had done by moonlight the night before. one thing about it was certainly peculiar. when we ordered the gondolier to wait for us he shook his head. not for anything would he remain there longer than was necessary to set us down. i accordingly paid him off, and when we had ascended the steps we entered the building. on pushing open the door we found ourselves standing in a handsome courtyard, in the centre of which was a well, its coping elegantly carved with a design of fruit and flowers. a broad stone staircase at the further end led up to the floor above, but this, as was the case with everything else, showed unmistakable signs of having been allowed to fall to decay. as no concierge was to be seen, and there was no one in sight of whom we might make inquiries, we scarcely knew how to proceed. indeed, we were just wondering whether we should take our chance and explore the lower regions in search of nikola, when he appeared at the head of the staircase and greeted us. "good-morning," he said, "pray come up. i must apologize for not having been down-stairs to receive you." by the time he had finished speaking he had reached us, and was shaking hands with glenbarth with the heartiness of an old friend. "let me offer you a hearty welcome to venice," he said to glenbarth after he had shaken hands with myself. then looking at him once more, he added, "if you will permit me to say so, you have changed a great deal since we last saw each other." "and you, scarcely at all," glenbarth replied. "it is strange that i should not have done so," nikola answered, i thought a little sadly, "for i think i may say without any fear of boasting that, since we parted at pipa lannu, i have passed through sufficient to change a dozen men. but we will not talk of that here. let us come up to my room, which is the only place in this great house that is in the least degree comfortable." so saying he led the way up the stairs, and then along a corridor, which had once been beautifully frescoed, but which was now sadly given over to damp and decay. at last, reaching a room in the front of the building, he threw open the door and invited us to enter. and here i might digress for a moment to remark, that of all the men i have ever met, nikola possessed the faculty of being able to make himself comfortable wherever he might be, in the greatest degree. he would have been at home anywhere. as a matter of fact this particular apartment was furnished in a style that caused me considerable surprise. the room itself was large and lofty, while the walls were beautifully frescoed, the work of one andrea bunopelli, of whom i shall have more to say anon. the furniture was simple, but extremely good; a massive oak writing-table stood beside one wall, another covered with books and papers was opposite it, several easy-chairs were placed here and there, another table in the centre of the room supported various chemical paraphernalia, while books of all sorts and descriptions, in all languages and bindings, were to be discovered in every direction. "after what you have seen of the rest of the house, this strikes you as being more homelike, does it not?" nikola inquired, as he noticed the look of astonishment upon our faces. "it is a queer old place, and the more i see of it the stranger it becomes. some time ago, and quite by chance, i became acquainted with its history; i do not mean the political history of the respective families that have occupied it; you can find that in any guide-book. i mean the real, inner history of the house itself, embracing not a few of the deeds which have taken place inside its walls. i wonder if you would be interested if i were to tell you that in this very room, in the year fifteen hundred and eleven, one of the most repellent and cold-blooded murders of the middle ages took place. perhaps now that you have the scene before you you would like to hear the story. you would? in that case pray sit down. let me offer you this chair, duke," he continued, and as he spoke he wheeled forward a handsomely carved chair from beside his writing-table. "here, hatteras, is one for you. i myself will take up my position here, so that i may be better able to retain your attention for my narrative." so saying he stood between us on the strip of polished floor which showed between two heavy oriental rugs. "for some reasons," he began, "i regret that the story i have to tell should run upon such familiar lines. i fancy, however, that the _dénouement_ will prove sufficiently original to merit your attention. the year fifteen hundred and nine, the same which found the french victorious at agnadello, and the venetian republic at the commencement of that decline from which it has never recovered, saw this house in its glory. the owner, the illustrious francesco del revecce, was a sailor, and had the honour of commanding one of the many fleets of the republic. he was an ambitious man, a good fighter, and as such twice defeated the fleet of the league of camberi. it was after the last of these victories that he married the beautiful daughter of the duke of levano, one of the most bitter enemies of the council of ten. the husband being rich, famous, and still young enough to be admired for his personal attractions; the bride one of the wealthiest, as well as one of the most beautiful women in the republic, it appeared as if all must be well with them for the remainder of their lives. a series of dazzling _fêtes_, to which all the noblest and most distinguished of the city were invited, celebrated their nuptials and their possession of this house. yet with it all the woman was perhaps the most unhappy individual in the universe. unknown to her husband and her father she had long since given her love elsewhere; she was passionately attached to young andrea bunopelli, the man by whom the frescoes of this room were painted. finding that fate demanded her renunciation of bunopelli, and her marriage to revecce, she resolved to see no more of the man to whom she had given her heart. love, however, proved stronger than her sense of duty, and while her husband, by order of the senate, had put to sea once more in order to drive back the french, who were threatening the adriatic, bunopelli put into operation the scheme that was ultimately to prove their mutual undoing. unfortunately for revecce he was not successful in his venture, and by and by news reached venice that his fleet had been destroyed, and that he himself had been taken prisoner. 'now,' said the astute bunopelli, 'is the time to act.' he accordingly took pens, paper, and his ink-horn, and in this very room concocted a letter which purported to bear the signature of the commander of the french forces, into whose hands the venetian admiral had fallen and then was. its meaning was plain enough. it proved that for a large sum of money revecce had agreed to surrender the venetian fleet, and, in order to secure his own safety, in case the republic should lay hands on him afterwards, it was to be supposed that he himself had only been taken prisoner after a desperate resistance, as had really been the case. the letter was written, and that night the painter himself dropped it into the lion's mouth. revecce might return now as soon as he pleased. his fate was prepared for him. meanwhile the guilty pair spent the time as happily as was possible under the circumstances, knowing full well that should the man against whom they had plotted return to venice, it would only be to find himself arrested, and with the certainty, on the evidence of the incriminating letter, of being immediately condemned to death. weeks and months went by. at last revecce, worn almost to a skeleton by reason of his long imprisonment, _did_ manage to escape. in the guise of a common fisherman he returned to venice; reached his own house, where a faithful servant recognized him and admitted him to the palace. from the latter's lips he learnt all that had transpired during his absence, and was informed of the villainous plot that had been prepared against him. his wrath knew no bounds; but with it all he was prudent. he was aware that if his presence in the city were discovered, nothing could save him from arrest. he accordingly hid himself in his own house and watched the course of events. what he saw was sufficient to confirm his worst suspicion. his wife was unfaithful to him, and her paramour was the man to whom he had been so kind a friend, and so generous a benefactor. then when the time was ripe, assisted only by his servant, the same who had admitted him to his house, he descended upon the unhappy couple. under threats of instant death he extorted from them a written confession of their treachery. after having made them secure, he departed for the council-chamber and demanded to be heard. he was the victim of a conspiracy, he declared, and to prove that what he said was true he produced the confession he had that day obtained. he had many powerful friends, and by their influence an immediate pardon was granted him, while permission was also given him to deal with his enemies as he might consider most desirable. he accordingly returned to this house with a scheme he was prepared to put into instant execution. it is not a pretty story, but it certainly lends an interest to this room. the painter he imprisoned here." [illustration: "he pressed a spring in the wall."] so saying nikola stooped and drew back one of the rugs to which i have already referred. the square outline of a trap-door showed itself in the floor. he pressed a spring in the wall behind him, and the lid shot back, swung round, and disappeared, showing the black abyss below. a smell of damp vaults came up to us. then, when he had closed the trap-door again, nikola drew the carpet back to its old position. "the wretched man died slowly of starvation in that hole, and the woman, living in this room above, was compelled to listen to his agony without being permitted the means of saving him. can you imagine the scene? the dying wretch below, doing his best to die like a man in order not to distress the woman he loved, and the outraged husband calmly pursuing his studies, regardless of both." he looked from one to the other of us and his eyes burnt like living coals. "it was brutish, it was hellish," cried glenbarth, upon whom either the story, or nikola's manner of narrating it, had produced an extraordinary effect. "why did the woman allow it to continue? was she mad that she did not summon assistance? surely the authorities of a state which prided itself upon its enlightenment, even in those dark ages, would not have tolerated such a thing?" "you must bear in mind the fact that the republic had given the husband permission to avenge his wrongs," said nikola very quietly. "besides, the woman could not cry out for the reason that her tongue had been torn out at the roots. when both were dead their bodies were tied together and thrown into the canal, and the same day revecce set sail again, to ultimately perish in a storm off the coast of sicily. now you know one of the many stories connected with this old room. there are others in which that trap-door has played an equally important part. i fear, however, none of them can boast so dramatic a setting as that i have just narrated to you." "how, knowing all this, you can live in the house passes my comprehension," gasped glenbarth. "i don't think i am a coward, but i tell you candidly that i would not spend a night here, after what you have told me, for anything the world could give me." "but surely you don't suppose that what happened in this room upwards of three hundred years ago could have any effect upon a living being to-day?" said nikola, with what i could not help thinking was a double meaning. "let me tell you, that far from being unpleasant it has decided advantages. as a matter of fact it gives me the opportunity of being free to do what i like. that is my greatest safeguard. i can go away for five years, if i please, and leave the most valuable of my things lying about, and come back to the discovery that nothing is missing. i am not pestered by tourists who ask to see the frescoes, for the simple reason that the guides take very good care not to tell them the legend of the house, lest they may be called upon to take them over it. many of the gondoliers will not stop here after nightfall, and the few who are brave enough to do so, invariably cross themselves before reaching, and after leaving it." "i do not wonder at it," i said. "taken altogether it is the most dismal dwelling i have ever set foot in. do you mean to tell me that you live alone in it?" "not entirely," he replied. "i have companions: an old man who comes in once a day to attend to my simple wants, and my ever-faithful friend----" "apollyon," i cried, forestalling what he was about to say. "exactly, apollyon. i am glad to see that you remember him." he uttered a low whistle, and a moment later the great beast that i remembered so well stalked solemnly into the room, and began to rub himself against the leg of his master's chair. "poor old fellow," continued nikola, picking him up and gently stroking him, "he is growing very feeble. perhaps it is not to be wondered at, for he is already far past the average age of the feline race. he has been in many strange places, and has seen many queer things since last we met, but never anything much stranger than he has witnessed in this room." "what do you mean?" i inquired. "what has the cat seen in this room that is so strange?" "objects that we are not yet permitted to see," nikola answered gravely. "when all is quiet at night, and i am working at that table, he lies curled up in yonder chair. for a time he will sleep contentedly, then i see him lift his head and watch something, or somebody, i cannot say which, moving about in the room. at first i came to the conclusion that it must be a bat, or some night bird, but that theory exploded. bats do not remain at the same exact distance from the floor, nor do they stand stationary behind a man's chair for any length of time. the hour will come, however, when it will be possible for us to see these things; i am on the track even now." had i not known nikola, and if i had not remembered some very curious experiments he had performed for my special benefit two years before, i should have inclined to the belief that he was boasting. i knew him too well, however, to deem it possible that he would waste his time in such an idle fashion. "do you mean to say," i asked, "that you really think that in time it will be possible for us to see things which at present we have no notion of? that we shall be able to look into the world we have always been taught to consider unknowable?" "i do mean it," he replied. "and though you may scarcely believe it, it was for the sake of the information necessary to that end that i pestered mr. wetherall in sydney, imprisoned you in port said, and carried the lady, who is now your wife, away to the island in the south seas." "this is most interesting," i said, while glenbarth drew his chair a little closer. "pray tell us some of your adventures since we last saw you," he put in. "you may imagine how eager we are to hear." thereupon nikola furnished us with a detailed description of all that he had been through since that momentous day when he had obtained possession of the stick that had been bequeathed to mr. wetherall by china pete. he told us how, armed with this talisman, he had set out for china, where he engaged a man named bruce, who must have been as plucky as nikola himself, and together they started off in search of an almost unknown monastery in thibet. he described with a wealth of exciting detail the perilous adventures they had passed through, and how near they had been to losing their lives in attempting to obtain possession of a certain curious book in which were set forth the most wonderful secrets relating to the laws of life and death. he told us of their hair-breadth escapes on the journey back to civilization, and showed how they were followed to england by a mysterious chinaman, whose undoubted mission was to avenge the robbery, and to obtain possession of the book. at this moment he paused, and i found an opportunity of asking him whether he had the book in his possession now. "would you care to see it?" he inquired. "if so, i will show it to you." on our answering in the affirmative he crossed to his writing-table, unlocked a drawer, and took from it a small curiously bound book, the pages of which were yellow with age, and the writing so faded that it was almost impossible to decipher it. "and now that you have plotted and planned, and suffered so much to obtain possession of this book, what use has it been to you?" i inquired, with almost a feeling of awe, for it seemed impossible that a man could have endured so much for so trifling a return. "in dabbling with such matters," nikola returned, "one of the first lessons one learns is not to expect immediate results. there is the collected wisdom of untold ages in that little volume, and when i have mastered the secret it contains, i shall, like the eaters of the forbidden fruit, possess a knowledge of all things, good and evil." replacing the book in the drawer he continued his narrative, told us of his great attempt to probe the secret of existence, and explained to us his endeavour to put new life into a body already worn out by age. "i was unsuccessful in what i set out to accomplish," he said, "but i advanced so far that i was able to restore the man his youth again. what i failed to do was to give him the power of thought or will. it was the brain that was too much for me, that vital part of man without which he is nothing. when i have mastered that secret i shall try again, and then, perhaps, i shall succeed. but there is much to be accomplished first. only i know how much!" i looked at him in amazement. was he jesting, or did he really suppose that it was possible for him, or any other son of man, to restore youth, and by so doing to prolong life perpetually? yet he spoke with all his usual earnestness, and seemed as convinced of the truth of what he said as if he were narrating some well-known fact. i did not know what to think. at last, seeing the bewilderment on our faces, i suppose, he smiled, and rising from his chair reminded us that if we had been bored we had only ourselves to thank for it. he accordingly changed the conversation by inquiring whether we had made any arrangements for that evening. i replied that so far as i knew we had not, whereupon he came forward with a proposition. "in that case," said he, "if you will allow me to act as your guide to venice, i think i could show you a side of the city you have never seen before. i know her as thoroughly as any man living, and i think i may safely promise that your party will spend an interesting couple of hours. what have you to say to my proposal?" "i am quite sure we shall be delighted," i replied, though not without certain misgivings. "but i think i had better not decide until i have seen my wife. if she has made no other arrangements, at what hour shall we start?" "at what time do you dine?" he inquired. "at seven o'clock," i replied. "perhaps we might be able to persuade you to give us the pleasure of your company?" "i thank you," he answered. "i fear i must decline, however. i am hermit-like in my habits so far as meals are concerned. if you will allow me i will call for you, shall we say at half-past eight? the moon will have risen by that time, and we should spend a most enjoyable evening." "at half-past eight," i said, "unless you hear to the contrary," and then rose from my chair. glenbarth followed my example, and we accordingly bade nikola good-bye. despite our protest, he insisted on accompanying us down the great staircase to the courtyard below, his terrible cat following close upon his heels. hailing a gondola, we bade the man take us back to our hotel. for some minutes after we had said good-bye to nikola we sat in silence as the boat skimmed over the placid water. "well, what is your opinion of nikola now?" i said, as we turned from the rio del consiglio into the grand canal once more. "has he grown any more commonplace, think you, since you last saw him?" "on the contrary, he is stranger than ever," glenbarth replied. "i have never met any other man who resembled him in the slightest degree. what a ghastly story that was! his dramatic telling of it made it appear so real that towards the end of it i was almost convinced that i could hear the groans of the poor wretch in the pit below, and see the woman wringing her hands and moaning in the room in which we were sitting. why he should have told it to us is what i cannot understand, neither can i make out what his reasons can be for living in that house." "nikola's actions are like himself, entirely inexplicable," he answered. "but that he has some motive beyond the desire he expressed for peace and quiet, i have not the shadow of a doubt." "and now with regard to to-night," said the duke, i am afraid a little pettishly. "i was surprised when you accepted his offer. do you think lady hatteras and miss trevor will care about such an excursion?" "that is a question i cannot answer at present," i replied. "we must leave it to them to decide. for my own part, i can scarcely imagine anything more interesting." when we reached galaghetti's i informed my wife and miss trevor of nikola's offer, half expecting that the latter, from the manner in which she had behaved at the mere mention of his name that morning, would decline to accompany us, and, therefore, that the excursion would fall through. to my surprise, however, she did nothing of the kind. she fell in with the idea at once, and, so far as we could see, without reluctance of any kind. there was nothing for it, therefore, under these circumstances, but for me to fall back upon the old commonplace, and declare that women are difficult creatures to understand. chapter iii in the previous chapter i recorded the surprise i felt at miss trevor's acceptance of doctor nikola's invitation to a gondola excursion. almost as suddenly as she had shown her fear of him, she had recovered her tranquillity, and the result, as i have stated, was complete perplexity on my part. with a united desire to reserve our energies for the evening, we did not arrange a long excursion for that afternoon, but contented ourselves with a visit to the church of ss. giovanni e paolo. miss trevor was quite recovered by this time, and in very good spirits. she and glenbarth were on the most friendly terms, consequently my wife was a most happy woman. "isn't it nice to see them together?" she whispered, as we crossed the hall and went down the steps to our gondola. "they are suited to each other almost as--well, if i really wanted to pay you a compliment, which you don't deserve, i should say as we are. do you notice how prettily she gives him her hand so that he may help her into the boat?" "i do," i answered grimly. "and it only shows the wickedness of the girl. she is as capable of getting into the boat without assistance as he is." "and yet you help her yourself every time you get the chance," my wife retorted. "i have observed you take the greatest care that she should not fall, even when the step has been one of only a few inches, and i have been left to get down by myself. perhaps you cannot recall that day at capri?" "i have the happiest recollections of it," i replied. "i helped her quite half-a-dozen times." "and yet you grudge that poor boy the opportunities that you yourself were once so eager to enjoy. you cannot deny it." "i am not going to attempt to deny it," i returned. "i _do_ grudge him his chances. and why shouldn't i? has she not the second prettiest hands, and the second neatest ankle, in all europe?" my wife looked up at me with a suspicion of a smile hovering round her mouth. when she does that her dimples are charming. "and the neatest?" she inquired, as if she had not guessed. women can do that sort of thing with excellent effect. "lady hatteras, may i help you into the gondola?" i said politely, and for some reason, best known to herself, the reply appeared to satisfy her. of one thing there could be no sort of doubt. miss trevor had taken a decided liking to glenbarth, and the young fellow's delight in her company was more than equal to it. by my wife's orders i left them together as much as possible during the afternoon, that is to say as far as was consistent with the duties of an observant chaperon. for instance, while we were in the right aisle of the church, examining the mausoleum of the doge, pietro mocenningo, and the statues of lombardi, they were in the choir proper, before the famous tomb of andrea vendramin, considered by many to be the finest of its kind in venice. as we entered the choir, they departed into the left transept. i fancy, however, glenbarth must have been a little chagrined when she, playing her hand according to the recognized rules, suggested that they should turn back in search of us. back they came accordingly, to be received by my wife with a speech that still further revealed to me the duplicity of women. "you are two naughty children," she said, with fairly simulated wrath. "where on earth have you been? we have been looking for you everywhere!" "you are so slow," put in miss trevor, and then she added, without a quaver in her voice or blush upon her cheek, "we dawdled about in order to let you catch us up." i thought it was time for me to interfere. "perhaps i should remind you young people that at the present moment you are in a church," i said. "would it not be as well, do you think, for you to preserve those pretty little prevarications until you are in the gondola? you will be able to quarrel in greater comfort there. it will also give phyllis time to collect her thoughts, and to prepare a new indictment." my wife treated me to a look that would have annihilated another man. after that i washed my hands of them and turned to the copy of titian's _martyrdom of saint peter_, which victor emmanuel had presented to the church in place of the original, which had been destroyed. later on we made our way, by a long series of tortuous thoroughfares, to the piazza of saint mark, where we intended to sit in front of florian's _café_ and watch the people until it was time for us to return and dress for dinner. as i have already said, miss trevor had all the afternoon been in the best of spirits. nothing could have been happier than her demeanour when we left the church, yet when we reached the piazza everything was changed. apparently she was not really unhappy, nor did she look about her in the frightened way that had struck me so unpleasantly on the previous evening. it was only her manner that was strange. at first she was silent, then, as if she were afraid we might notice it, she set herself to talk as if she were so doing for mere talking's sake. then, without any apparent reason, she became as silent as a mouse once more. remembering what had happened that morning before breakfast, i did not question her, nor did i attempt to rally her upon the subject. to have done either would have been to have risked a recurrence of the catastrophe we had so narrowly escaped earlier in the day. i accordingly left her alone, and my wife, in the hope of distracting her attention, entered upon an amusing argument with glenbarth upon the evils attendant upon excessive smoking, which was the young man's one, and, so far as i knew, only failing. unable to combat her assertions he appealed to me for protection. "take my part, there's a good fellow," he said pathetically. "i am not strong enough to stand against lady hatteras alone." "no," i returned; "you must fight your own battles. when i see a chance of having a little peace i like to grasp it. i am going to take miss trevor to maya's shop on the other side of the piazza, in search of new photographs. we will leave you to quarrel in comfort here." so saying miss trevor and i left them and made our way to the famous shop, where i purchased for her a number of photographs, of which she had expressed her admiration a few days before. after that we rejoined my wife and glenbarth and returned to our hotel for dinner. nikola, as you may remember, had arranged to call for us with his gondola at half-past eight, and ten minutes before that time i suggested that the ladies should prepare themselves for the excursion. i bade them wrap up well, for i knew by experience that it is seldom warm upon the water at night. when they had left us the duke and i strolled into the balcony. "i hope to goodness nikola won't frighten miss trevor this evening," said my companion, after we had been there a few moments. (i noticed that he spoke with an anxiety that was by no means usual with him.) "she is awfully sensitive, you know, and when he likes he can curdle the very marrow in your bones. i shouldn't have liked her to have heard that story he told us this morning. i suppose there is no fear of his repeating it to-night?" "i should not think so," i returned. "nikola has more tact in his little finger than you and i have in our whole bodies. he would be scarcely likely to make such a mistake. no, i rather fancy that to-night we shall see a new side of his character. for my own part i am prepared to confess that i am looking forward to the excursion with a good deal of pleasure." "i am glad to hear it," glenbarth replied, as i thought with a savour of sarcasm in his voice. "i only hope you won't have reason to regret it." this little speech set me thinking. was it possible that glenbarth was jealous of nikola? surely he could not be foolish enough for that. that miss trevor had made an impression upon him was apparent, but it was full early for him to grow jealous, and particularly of such a man. while i was thinking of this the ladies entered the room, and at the same moment we heard nikola's gondola draw up at the steps. i thought miss trevor looked a little pale, but though still very quiet she was more cheerful than she had been before dinner. "our guide has arrived," i remarked, as i closed the windows behind us. "we had better go down to the hall. miss trevor, if you will accompany me, the duke will bring phyllis. we must not keep nikola waiting." we accordingly left our apartments and proceeded down-stairs. "i trust you are looking forward to your excursion, miss trevor?" i said as we descended the stairs. "if i am not mistaken you will see venice to-night under circumstances such as you could never have dreamed of before." "i do not doubt it," she answered simply. "it will be a night to remember." little did she guess how true her prophecy was destined to be. it was indeed a night that every member of the party would remember all his, or her, life long. when we had reached the hall, nikola had just entered it, and was in the act of sending up a servant to announce his arrival. he shook hands with my wife, then with miss trevor, afterwards with glenbarth and myself. his hand was, as usual, as cold as ice and his face was deathly pale. his tall, lithe figure was concealed by his voluminous coat, but what was lost in one direction was compensated for by the mystery that it imparted to his personality. for some reason i thought of mephistopheles as i looked at him, and in many ways the illustration does not seem an altogether inapt one. "permit me to express the gratification i feel that you have consented to allow me to be your guide this evening, lady hatteras," he said as he conducted my wife towards the boat. "while it is an impertinence on my part to imagine that i can add to your enjoyment of venice, i fancy it is, nevertheless, in my power to show you a side of the city with which you are not as yet acquainted. the night being so beautiful, and believing that you would wish to see all you can, i have brought a gondola without a cabin. i trust i did not do wrong." "i am sure it will be delightful," my wife answered. "it would have been unendurable on such a beautiful evening to be cooped up in a close cabin. besides, we should have seen nothing." by this time we were on the steps, at the foot of which the gondola in question, a large one of its class, was lying. as soon as we had boarded her the gondolier bent to his oar, the boat shot out into the stream, and the excursion, which, as i have said, we were each of us to remember all our lives, had commenced. if i shut my eyes now i can recall the whole scene: the still moonlit waters of the canal, the houses on one side of which were brilliantly illuminated by the moon, the other being entirely in the shadow. when we were in mid-stream a boat decorated with lanterns passed us. it contained a merry party, whose progress was enlivened by the strains of the invariable _finiculi finicula_. the words and the tune ring in my memory even now. years before we had grown heartily sick of the song, now however it possessed a charm that was quite its own. "how pretty it is," remarked my wife and miss trevor almost simultaneously. and the former added, "i could never have believed that it possessed such a wealth of tenderness." "might it not be the association that is responsible?" put in nikola gravely. "you have probably heard that song at some time when you have been so happy that all the world has seemed the same. hearing it to-night has unconsciously recalled that association, and _finiculi finicula_, once so despised, immediately becomes a melody that touches your heart-strings, and so wins for itself a place in your regard that it can never altogether lose." we had crossed the canal by this time; the gondola with the singers proceeding towards the rialto bridge. the echo of the music still lingered in our ears, and seemed the sweeter by the reason of the distance that separated us from it. turning to the gondolier, who in the moonlight presented a picturesque figure in the stern of the boat, nikola said something in italian. the boat's head was immediately turned in the direction of a side-street, and a moment later we entered it. it is not my intention, nor would it be possible for me, to attempt to furnish you with a definite description of the route we followed. in the daytime i flatter myself that i have a knowledge of the venice of the tourist; if you were to give me a pencil and paper i believe i should be able to draw a rough outline of the city, and to place st. mark's cathedral, galaghetti's hotel, the rialto bridge, the arsenal, and certainly the railway station, in something like their proper positions. but at night, when i have left the grand canal, the city becomes a sealed book to me. on this particular evening every street, when once we had left the fashionable quarter behind us, seemed alike. there was the same darkness, the same silence, and the same reflection of the lights in the water. occasionally we happened upon places where business was still being transacted, and where the noise of voices smote the air with a vehemence that was like sacrilege. a few moments would then elapse, and then we were plunged into a silence that was almost unearthly. all this time nikola kept us continually interested. here was a house with a history as old as venice itself; there the home of a famous painter; yonder the birthplace of a poet or a soldier, who had fought his way to fame by pen or by sword. on one side of the street was the first dwelling of one who had been a plebeian and had died a doge; while on the other side was that of a man who had given his life to save his friend. nor were nikola's illustrations confined to the past alone. men whose names were household words to us had preceded us, and had seen venice as we were seeing it now. of each he could tell us something we had never heard before. it was the perfect mastery of his subject, like that of a man who plays upon an instrument of which he has made a lifelong study, that astonished us. he could rouse in our hearts such emotions as he pleased; could induce us to pity at one moment, and to loathing at the next; could make us see the city with his eyes, and in a measure to love it with his own love. that nikola _did_ entertain a deep affection for it was as certain as his knowledge of its history. "i think i may say now," he said, when we had been absent from the hotel for upwards of an hour, "that i have furnished you with a superficial idea of the city. let me attempt after this to show you something of its inner life. that it will repay you i think you will admit when you have seen it." once more he gave the gondolier an order. without a word the man entered a narrow street on the right, then turned to the left, after which to the right again. what were we going to see next? that it would be something interesting i had not the least doubt. presently the gondolier made an indescribable movement with his oar, the first signal that he was about to stop. with two strokes he brought the boat alongside the steps, and nikola, who was the first to spring out, assisted the ladies to alight. we were now in a portion of venice with which i was entirely unacquainted. the houses were old and lofty, though sadly fallen to decay. where shops existed business was still being carried on, but the majority of the owners of the houses in the neighbourhood appeared to be early birds, for no lights were visible in their dwellings. once or twice men approached us and stared insolently at the ladies of our party. one of these, more impertinent than his companions, placed his hand upon miss trevor's arm. in a second, without any apparent effort, nikola had laid him upon his back. "do not be afraid, miss trevor," he said; "the fellow has only forgotten himself for a moment." so saying he approached the man, who scrambled to his feet, and addressed him in a low voice. "no, no, your excellency," the rascal whined; "for the pity of the blessed saints. had i known it was you i would not have dared." nikola said something in a whisper to him; what it was i have not the least idea, but its effect was certainly excellent, for the man slunk away without another word. after this little incident we continued our walk without further opposition, took several turnings, and at last found ourselves standing before a low doorway. that it was closely barred on the inside was evident from the sounds that followed when, in response to nikola's knocks, some one commenced to open it. presently an old man looked out. at first he seemed surprised to see us, but when his eyes fell upon nikola all was changed. with a low bow he invited him, in russian, to enter. crossing the threshold we found ourselves in a church of the smallest possible description. by the dim light a priest could be seen officiating at the high altar, and there were possibly a dozen worshippers present. there was an air of secrecy about it all, the light, the voices, and the precautions taken to prevent a stranger entering, that appealed to my curiosity. as we turned to leave the building the little man who had admitted us crept up to nikola's side and said something in a low voice to him. nikola replied, and at the same time patted the man affectionately upon the shoulder. then with the same obsequious respect the latter opened the door once more, and permitted us to pass out, quickly barring it behind us afterwards however. "you have seen many churches during your stay in venice, lady hatteras," nikola remarked, as we made our way back towards the gondola, "i doubt very much, however, whether you have ever entered a stranger place of worship than that." "i know that i have not," my wife replied. "pray who were the people we saw there? and why was so much secrecy observed?" "because nearly all the poor souls you saw there are either suspected or wanted by the russian government. they are fugitives from injustice, if i may so express it, and it is for that reason that they are compelled to worship, as well as live, in hiding." "but who are they?" "nihilists," nikola answered. "a poor, hot-headed lot of people, who, seeing their country drifting in a wrong direction, have taken it into their heads to try and remedy matters by drastic measures. finding their efforts hopeless, their properties confiscated, and they themselves in danger of death, or exile, which is worse, they have fled from russia. some of them, the richest, manage to get to england, some come to venice, but knowing that the italian police will turn them out _sans cérémonie_ if they discover them, they are compelled to remain in hiding until they are in a position to proceed elsewhere." "and you help them?" asked miss trevor in a strange voice, as if his answer were a foregone conclusion. "what makes you think that?" nikola inquired. "because the doorkeeper knew you, and you spoke so kindly to him." "the poor fellow has a son," nikola replied; "a hot-headed young rascal who has got into trouble in moscow. if he is caught he will without doubt go to siberia for the rest of his life. but he will _not_ be caught." once more miss trevor spoke as if with authority, and in the same hushed voice. "you have saved him?" "he _has_ been saved," nikola replied. "he left for america this morning. the old fellow was merely expressing to me the gratification he felt at having got him out of such a difficulty. now, here is our gondola. let us get into it. we still have much to see, and time is not standing still with us." once more we took our places, and once more the gondola proceeded on its way. to furnish you with a complete _résumé_ of all we saw would take too long, and would occupy too great a space. let it suffice that we visited places, the mere existence of which i had never heard of before. one thing impressed me throughout. wherever we went nikola was known, and not only known, but feared and respected. his face was a key that opened every lock, and in his company the ladies were as safe, in the roughest parts of venice, as if they had been surrounded by a troop of soldiery. when we had seen all that he was able to show us it was nearly midnight, and time for us to be getting back to our hotel. "i trust i have not tired you?" he said, as the ladies took their places in the gondola for the last time. "not in the least," both answered at once, and i fancy my wife spoke not only for herself but also for miss trevor when she continued, "we have spent a most delightful evening." "you must not praise the performance until the epilogue is spoken," nikola answered. "i have still one more item on my programme." as he said this the gondola drew up at some steps, where a solitary figure was standing, apparently waiting for us. he wore a cloak and carried a somewhat bulky object in his hand. as soon as the boat came alongside nikola sprang out and approached him. to our surprise he helped him into the gondola and placed him in the stern. "to-night, luigi," he said, "you must sing your best for the honour of the city." the young man replied in an undertone, and then the gondola passed down a by-street and a moment later we were back in the grand canal. there was not a breath of air, and the moon shone full and clear upon the placid water. never had venice appeared more beautiful. away to the right was the piazza, with the cathedral of saint mark; on our left were the shadows of the islands. the silence of venice, and there is no silence in the world like it, lay upon everything. the only sound to be heard was the dripping of the water from the gondolier's oar as it rose and fell in rhythmic motion. then the musician drew his fingers across the strings of his guitar, and after a little prelude commenced to sing. the song he had chosen was the _salve d'amora_ from _faust_, surely one of the most delightful melodies that has ever occurred to the brain of a musician. before he had sung a dozen bars we were entranced. though not a strong tenor his voice was one of the most perfect i have ever heard. it was of the purest quality, so rich and sweet that the greatest connoisseur could not tire of it. the beauty of the evening, the silence of the lagoon, and the perfectness of the surroundings, helped it to appeal to us as no music had ever done before. it was a significant proof of the effect produced upon us, that when he ceased not one of us spoke for some moments. our hearts were too full for words. by the time we had recovered ourselves the gondola had drawn up at the steps of the hotel, and we had disembarked. the duke and i desired to reward the musician; nikola however begged us to do nothing of the kind. "he sings to-night to please me," he said. "it would hurt him beyond words were you to offer him any other reward." after that there was nothing more to be said, except to thank him in the best italian we could muster for the treat he had given us. "why on earth does he not try his fortune upon the stage?" asked my wife, when we had disembarked from the gondola and had assembled on the steps. "with such a voice he might achieve a european reputation." "alas," answered nikola, "he will never do that. did you notice his infirmity?" phyllis replied that she had not observed anything extraordinary about him. "the poor fellow is blind," nikola answered very quietly. "he is a singing-bird shut up always in the dark. and now, good-night. i have trespassed too long upon your time already." he bowed low to the ladies, shook hands with the duke and myself, and then, before we had time to thank him for the delightful evening he had given us, was in his gondola once more and out in mid-stream. we watched him until he had disappeared in the direction of the rio del consiglio, after we entered the hotel and made our way to our own sitting-room. "i cannot say when i have enjoyed myself so much," said my wife, as we stood talking together before bidding each other good-night. "it has been delightful," said glenbarth, whose little attack of jealousy seemed to have quite left him. "have you enjoyed it, hatteras?" i said something in reply, i cannot remember what, but i recollect that, as i did so, i glanced at miss trevor's face. it was still very pale, but her eyes shone with extraordinary brilliance. "i hope you have had a pleasant evening," i said to her a few moments later, when we were alone together. "yes, i think i can say that i have," she answered, with a far-away look upon her face. "the music was exquisite. the thought of it haunts me still." then, having bade me good-night, she went off with my wife, leaving me to attempt to understand why she had replied as she had done. "and what do you think of it, my friend?" i inquired of glenbarth, when we had taken our cigars out into the balcony. "i am extremely glad we went," he returned quickly. "there can be no doubt that you were right when you said that it would show us nikola's character in a new light. did you notice with what respect he was treated by everybody we met, and how anxious they were not to run the risk of offending him?" "of course i noticed it, and you may be sure i drew my own conclusions from it," i replied. "and those conclusions were?" "that nikola's character is even more inexplicable than before." after that we smoked in silence for some time. at last i rose and tossed what remained of my cigar over the rails into the dark waters below. "it is getting late," i said. "don't you think we had better bid each other good-night?" "perhaps we had, and yet i don't feel a bit tired." "are you quite sure that you have had a pleasant day?" "quite sure," he said, with a laugh. "the only thing i regret is having heard that wretched story this morning. do you recall the gusto with which nikola related it?" i replied in the affirmative, and asked him his reason for referring to it now. "because i could not help thinking of it this evening, when his voice was so pleasant and his manner so kind. when i picture him going back to that house to-night, to that dreadful room, to sleep alone in that great building, it fairly makes me shudder. good-night, old fellow. you have treated me royally to-day; i could scarcely have had more sensations compressed into my waking hours if i'd been a king." chapter iv after our excursion through venice with nikola by night, an interval of a week elapsed before we saw anything of him. during that time matters, so far as our party was concerned, progressed with the smoothness of a well-regulated clock. in my own mind i had not the shadow of a doubt that glenbarth was head over ears in love with gertrude trevor. he followed her about wherever she went; seemed never to tire of paying her attention, and whenever we were alone together, endeavoured to inveigle me into a discussion of her merits. that she had faults nothing would convince him. whether she reciprocated his good-feeling was a matter which, to my mind, there existed a considerable amount of doubt. women are proverbially more secretive in these affairs than men, and if miss trevor entertained a warmer feeling than friendship for the young duke, she certainly managed to conceal it admirably. more than once, i believe, my wife endeavoured to sound her upon the subject. she had to confess herself beaten, however. miss trevor liked the duke of glenbarth very much; she was quite agreed that he had not an atom of conceit in his constitution; he gave himself no airs; moreover, she was prepared to meet my wife half-way, and to say that she thought it a pity he did not marry. no, she had never heard that there was an american millionaire girl, extremely beautiful, and accomplished beyond the average, who was pining to throw her millions and herself at his feet! "and then," added my wife, in a tone that seemed to suggest that she considered it my fault that the matter had not been brought to a successful conclusion long since, "what do you think she said? 'why on earth doesn't he marry this american? so many men of title do now-a-days.' what do you think of that? i can tell you, dick, i could have shaken her!" "my dear little woman," i said in reply, "will nothing convince you that you are playing with fire? if you are not very careful you will burn your fingers. gertrude is almost as clever as you are. she sees that you are trying to pump her, and very naturally declines to be pumped. you would feel as she does were you in her position." "i do not know why you should say i am trying to pump her," she answered with considerable dignity. "i consider it a very uncalled-for expression." "well, my dear," i answered, "if you are going to attempt to improve your position by splitting straws, then i must stop." the episode i have just described had taken place after we had retired for the night, and at a time when i am far from being at my best. my wife, on the other hand, as i have repeatedly noticed, is invariably wide-awake at that hour. moreover she has an established belief that it would be an impossibility for her to obtain any rest until she has cleared up all matters of mystery that may have attracted her attention during the day. i generally fall asleep before she is half-way through, and for this reason i am told that i lack interest in what most nearly concerns our welfare. "one would at least imagine that you could remain awake to discuss events of so much importance to us and to those about us," i have known her say. "i have observed that you can talk about horses, hunting, and shooting, with your bachelor friends until two or three o'clock in the morning without falling asleep, but when your wife is anxious to ask your opinion about something that does not concern your amusements, then you must needs go to sleep." "my dear," i replied, "when all is said and done we are but human. you know as well as i do, that if a man were to come to me when i had settled down for the night, and were to tell me that he knew where to lay his hand upon the finest horse in england, and where he could put me on to ten coveys of partridges within a couple of hundred yards of my own front door, that he could even tell me the winner of the derby, i should answer him as i am now answering you." "and your reply would be?" i am afraid the pains i had been at to illustrate my own argument must have proved too much for me, for i was informed in the morning that i had talked a vast amount of nonsense about seeing nikola concerning a new pigeon-trap, and had then resigned myself to the arms of morpheus. if there should be any husbands whose experience have run on similar lines, i should be glad to hear from them. but to return to my story. one evening, exactly a week after glenbarth's arrival in venice, i was dressing for dinner when a letter was brought to me. much to my surprise i found it was from nikola, and in it he inquired whether it would be possible for me to spare the time to come and see him that evening. it appeared that he was anxious to discuss a certain important matter with me. i noticed, however, that he did not mention what that matter was. in a postscript he asked me, as a favour to himself, to come alone. having read the letter i stood for a few moments with it in my hand, wondering what i should do. i was not altogether anxious to go out that evening; on the other hand i had a strange craving to see nikola once more. the suggestion that he desired to consult me upon a matter of importance flattered my vanity, particularly as it was of such a nature that he did not desire the presence of a third person. "yes," i thought, "after all i will go." accordingly i wrote a note to him saying that, if the hour would suit him, i hoped to be with him at half-past nine o'clock. then i continued my dressing and presently went down to dinner. during the progress of the meal i mentioned the fact that i had received the letter in question, and asked my friends if they would excuse me if i went round in the course of the evening to find out what it was that nikola had to say to me. perhaps by virtue of my early training, perhaps by natural instinct, i am a keen observer of trifles. on this occasion i noticed that from the moment i mentioned the fact of my having received a letter from nikola, miss trevor ate scarcely any more dinner. upon my mentioning his name she had looked at me with a startled expression upon her face. she said nothing, however, but i observed that her left hand, which she had a trick of keeping below the table as much as possible, was for some moments busily engaged in picking pieces from the roll beside her plate. for some reason she had suddenly grown nervous again, but why she should have done so passes my comprehension. when the ladies had retired, and we were sitting together over our wine, glenbarth returned to the subject of my visit that evening. "by jove, my dear fellow," he said, "i don't envy you your excursion to that house. don't you feel a bit nervous about it yourself?" i shook my head. "why should i?" i asked. "if the truth must be told i am a good deal more afraid of nikola than i am of his house. i don't fancy on the present occasion, however, i have any reason to dread either." "well," said the duke with a laugh, "if you are not home by breakfast-time to-morrow morning i shall bring the police round, and look down that trap-door. you'll take a revolver with you of course?" "i shall do nothing of the kind," i replied. "i am quite able to take care of myself without having recourse to fire-arms." nevertheless, when i went up to my room to change my coat, prior to leaving the house, i took a small revolver from my dressing-case and weighed it in my hand. "shall i take it or shall i not?" was the question i asked myself. eventually i shook my head and replaced it in its hiding-place. then, switching off the electric light, i made for the door, only to return, re-open the dressing-case, and take out the revolver. without further argument i slipped it into the pocket of my coat and then left the room. a quarter of an hour later my gondolier had turned into the rio del consiglio, and was approaching the palace revecce. the house was in deep shadow, and looked very dark and lonesome. the gondolier seemed to be of the same opinion, for he was anxious to set me down, to collect his fare, and to get away again as soon as possible. standing in the porch i rang the great bell which nikola had pointed out to me, and which we had not observed on the morning of our first visit. it clanged and echoed somewhere in the rearmost portion of the house, intensifying the loneliness of the situation and adding a new element of mystery to that abominable dwelling. in spite of my boast to glenbarth i was not altogether at my ease. it was one thing to pretend that i had no objection to the place when i was seated in a well-lighted room, with a glass of port at my hand, and a stalwart friend opposite; it was quite another, however, to be standing in the dark at that ancient portal, with the black water of the canal at my feet and the anticipation of that sombre room ahead. then i heard the sound of footsteps crossing the courtyard, and a moment later nikola himself stood before me and invited me to enter. a solitary lamp had been placed upon the coping of the wall, and its fitful light illuminated the courtyard, throwing long shadows across the pavement and making it look even drearier and more unwholesome than when i had last seen it. after we had shaken hands we made our way in silence up the great staircase, our steps echoing along the stone corridors with startling reverberations. how thankful i was at last to reach the warm, well-lit room, despite the story nikola had told us about it, i must leave you to imagine. "please sit down," said nikola, pushing a chair forward for my occupation. "it is exceedingly kind of you to have complied with my request. i trust lady hatteras and miss trevor are well?" "thank you, they are both well," i replied. "they both begged to be remembered to you." nikola bowed his thanks, and then, when he had placed a box of excellent cigars at my elbow, prepared and lighted a cigarette for himself. all this time i was occupying myself wondering why he had asked me to come to him that evening, and what the upshot of the interview was to be. knowing him as i did, i was aware that his actions were never motiveless. everything he did was to be accounted for by some very good reason. after he had tendered his thanks to me for coming to see him, he was silent for some minutes, for so long indeed that i began to wonder whether he had forgotten my presence. in order to attract his attention i commented upon the fact that we had not seen him for more than a week. "i have been away," he answered, with what was plainly an attempt to pull himself together. "business of a most important nature called me to the south of italy, to naples in fact, and i only returned this morning." once more he was silent. then leaning towards me and speaking with even greater impressiveness than he had yet done, he continued-- "hatteras, i am going to ask you a question, and then, with your permission, i should like to tell you a story." not knowing what else to do i simply bowed. i was more than ever convinced that nikola was going to make use of me. "have you ever wondered," he began, still looking me straight in the face, and speaking with great earnestness, "what it was first made me the man i am?" i replied to the effect that i had often wondered, but naturally had never been able to come to a satisfactory conclusion. "some day you shall know the history of my life," he answered. "but not just yet. there is much to be done before then. and now i am going to give you the story i promised you. you will see why i have told it to you when i have finished." he rose from his chair and began to pace the room. i had never seen nikola so agitated before. when he turned and faced me again his eyes shone like diamonds, while his body quivered with suppressed excitement. "hatteras," he went on, when he had somewhat mastered his emotion, "i doubt very much if ever in this world's history there has been a man who has suffered more than i have done. as i said just now, the whole story i cannot tell you at present. some day it will come in its proper place and you will know everything. in the meantime----" he paused for a few moments and then continued abruptly-- "the story concerns a woman, a native of this city; the last of an impoverished, but ancient family. she married a man many years her senior, whom she did not love. when they had been married just over four years her husband died, leaving her with one child to fight the battles of the world alone. the boy was nearly three years old, a sturdy, clever little urchin, who, up to that time, had never known the meaning of the word trouble. then there came to venice a man, a spaniard, as handsome as a serpent, and as cruel. after a while he made the woman believe that he loved her. she returned his affection, and in due time they were married. a month later he was appointed governor of one of the spanish islands off the american coast--a post he had long been eager to obtain. when he departed to take up his position it was arranged that, as soon as all was prepared, the woman and her child should follow him. they did so, and at length reached the island and took up their abode, not at the palace, as the woman had expected, but in the native city. for the governor feared, or pretended to fear, that, as his marriage had not been made public at first, it might compromise his position. the woman, however, who loved him, was content, for her one thought was to promote his happiness. at first the man made believe to be overjoyed at having her with him once again, then, little by little, he showed that he was tired of her. another woman had attracted his fancy, and he had transferred his affections to her. the other heard of it. her southern blood was roused, for though she had been poor, she was, as i have said, the descendant of one of the oldest venetian families. as his wife she endeavoured to defend herself, then came the crushing blow, delivered with all the brutality of a savage nature. "'you are not my wife,' he said. 'i had already a wife living when i married you.' "she left him without another word and went away to hide her shame. six months later the fever took her and she died. thus the boy was left, at five years old, without a friend or protector in the world. happily, however, a humble couple took compassion on him, and, after a time, determined to bring him up as their own. the old man was a great scholar, and had devoted all his life to the exhaustive study of the occult sciences. to educate the boy, when he grew old enough to understand, was his one delight. he was never weary of teaching him, nor did the boy ever tire of learning. it was a mutual labour of love. seven years later saw both the lad's benefactors at rest in the little churchyard beneath the palms, and the boy himself homeless once more. but he was not destined to remain so for very long; the priest, who had buried his adopted parents, spoke to the governor, little dreaming what he was doing, of the boy's pitiable condition. it was as if the devil had prompted him, for the spaniard was anxious to find a playfellow for his son, a lad two years the other's junior. it struck him that the waif would fill the position admirably. he was accordingly deported to the palace to enter upon the most miserable period of his life. his likeness to his mother was unmistakable, and when he noticed it, the governor, who had learned the secret, hated him for it, as only those hate who are conscious of their wrong-doing. from that moment his cruelty knew no bounds. the boy was powerless to defend himself. all that he could do was to loathe his oppressor with all the intensity of his fiery nature, and to pray that the day might come when he should be able to repay. to his own son the governor was passionately attached. in his eyes the latter could do no wrong. for any of his misdeeds it was the stranger who bore the punishment. on the least excuse he was stripped and beaten like a slave. the governor's son, knowing his power, and the other's inordinate sensitiveness, derived his chief pleasure in inventing new cruelties for him. to describe all that followed would be impossible. when nothing else would rouse him, it was easy to bring him to an ungovernable pitch of fury by insulting his mother's name, with whose history the servants had, by this time, made their master's son acquainted. once, driven into a paroxysm of fury by the other's insults, the lad picked up a knife and rushed at his tormentor with the intention of stabbing him. his attempt, however, failed, and the boy, foaming at the mouth, was carried before the governor. i will spare you a description of the punishment that was meted out for his offence. let it suffice that there are times even now, when the mere thought of it is sufficient to bring--but there--why should i continue in this strain? all that i am telling you happened many years ago, but the memory remains clear and distinct, while the desire for vengeance is as keen as if it had happened but yesterday. what is more, the end is coming, as surely as the lad once hoped and prophesied it would." nikola paused for a moment and sank into his chair. i had never seen him so affected. his face was deathly pale, while his eyes blazed like living coals. "what became of the boy at last?" i inquired, knowing all the while that he had been speaking of himself. "he escaped from the island, and went out into the world. the governor is dead; he has gone to meet the woman, or women, he has so cruelly wronged. his son has climbed the ladder of fame, but he has never lost, as his record shows, the cruel heart he possessed as a boy. do you remember the story of the revolution in the republic of equinata?" i shook my head. "the republics of south america indulge so constantly in their little amusements that it is difficult for an outsider to remember every particular one," i answered. "well, let me tell you about it. when the republic of equinata suffered from its first revolution, this man was its president. but for his tyranny and injustice it would not have taken place. he it was who, finding that the rebellion was spreading, captured a certain town, and bade the eldest son of each of the influential families wait upon him at his headquarters on the morning following its capitulation. his excuse was that he desired them as hostages for their parents' good behaviour. as it was, however, to wreak his vengeance on the city, which had opposed him, instead of siding with him, he placed them against a wall and shot them down by the half-dozen. but he was not destined to succeed. gradually he was driven back upon his capital, his troops deserting day by day. then, one night he boarded a ship that was waiting for him in the harbour, and from that moment equinata saw him no more. it was not until some days afterwards that it was discovered that he had despatched vast sums of money, which he had misappropriated, out of the country, ahead of him. where he is now hiding i am the only man who knows. i have tracked him to his lair, and i am waiting--waiting--waiting--for the moment to arrive when the innocent blood that has so long cried to heaven will be avenged. let him look to himself when that day arrives. for as there is a god above us, he will be punished as man was never punished before." the expression upon his face as he said this was little short of devilish; the ghastly pallor of his skin, the dark, glittering eyes, and his jet-black hair made up a picture that will never fade from my memory. "god help his enemy if they should meet," i said to myself. then his mood suddenly changed, and he was once more the quiet, suave nikola to whom i had become accustomed. every sign of passion had vanished from his face. a transformation more complete could scarcely have been imagined. "my dear fellow," he said, without a trace of emotion in his voice, "you must really forgive me for having bored you with my long story. i cannot think what made me do so, unless it is that i have been brooding over it all day, and felt the need of a confidant. you will make an allowance for me, will you not?" "most willingly," i answered. "if the story you have told me concerns yourself, you have my most heartfelt sympathy. you have suffered indeed." he stopped for a moment in his restless walk up and down the room, and eyed me carefully as if he were trying to read my thoughts. "suffered?" he said at last, and then paused. "yes, i have suffered--but others have suffered more. but do not let us talk of it. i was foolish to have touched upon it, for i know by experience the effect it produces upon me." as he spoke he crossed to the window, which he threw open. it was a glorious night, and the sound of women's voices singing reached us from the grand canal. on the other side of the watery highway the houses looked strangely mysterious in the weird light. at that moment i felt more drawn towards nikola than i had ever done before. the man's loneliness, his sufferings, had a note of singular pathos for me. i forgot the injuries he had done me, and before i knew what i was doing, i had placed my hand upon his shoulder. "nikola," i said, "if i were to try i could not make you understand how truly sorry i am for you. the life you lead is so unlike that of any other man. you see only the worst side of human nature. why not leave this terrible gloom? give up these experiments upon which you are always engaged, and live only in the pure air of the commonplace every-day world. your very surroundings--this house, for instance--are not like those of other men. believe me, there are other things worth living for besides the science which binds you in its chains. if you could learn to love a good woman----" "my dear hatteras," he put in, more softly than i had ever heard him speak, "woman's love is not for me. as you say, i am lonely in the world, god knows how lonely, yet lonely i must be content to remain." then leaning his hands upon the window-sill, he looked out upon the silent night, and i heard him mutter to himself, "yes, lonely to the end." after that he closed the window abruptly, and turning to me, asked how long we contemplated remaining in venice. "i cannot say yet," i answered, "the change is doing my wife so much good that i am anxious to prolong our stay. at first we thought of going to the south of france, but that idea has been abandoned, and we may be here another month." "a month," he said to himself, as if he were reflecting upon something; then he added somewhat inconsequently, "you should be able to see a great deal of venice in a month." "and how long will you be here?" i asked. he shook his head. "it is impossible to say," he answered. "i never know my own mind for two days together. i may be here another week, or i may be here a year. somehow, i have a conviction, i cannot say why, that this will prove to be my last visit to venice. i should be sorry never to see it again, yet what must be, must. destiny will have its way, whatever we may say or do to the contrary." at that moment there was the sound of a bell clanging in the courtyard below. at such an hour it had an awe-inspiring sound, and i know that i shuddered as i heard it. "who can it be?" said nikola, turning towards the door. "this is somewhat late for calling hours. will you excuse me if i go down and find out the meaning of it?" "do so, by all means," i answered. "i think i must be going also. it is getting late." "no, no," he said, "stay a little longer. if it is as i suspect, i fancy i shall be able to show you something that may interest you. endeavour to make yourself comfortable until i return. i shall not be away many minutes." so saying, he left me, closing the door behind him. when i was alone, i lit a cigar and strolled to the window, which i opened. my worst enemy could not call me a coward, but i must confess that i derived no pleasure from being in that room alone. the memory of what lay under that oriental rug was vividly impressed upon my memory. in my mind i could smell the vaults below, and it would have required only a very small stretch of the imagination to have fancied i could hear the groans of the dying man proceeding from it. then a feeling of curiosity came over me to see who nikola's visitor was. by leaning well out of the window, i could look down on the great door below. at the foot of the steps a gondola was drawn up, but i was unable to see whether there was any one in it or not. who was nikola's mysterious caller, and what made him come at such an hour? knowing the superstitious horror in which the house was held by the populace of venice, i felt that whoever he was, he must have had an imperative reason for his visit. i was still turning the subject over in my mind, when the door opened and nikola entered, followed by two men. one was tall and swarthy, wore a short black beard, and had a crafty expression upon his face. the other was about middle height, very broad, and was the possessor of a bullet-head covered with close-cropped hair. both were of the lower class, and their nationality was unmistakable. turning to me, nikola said in english-- "it is as i expected. now, if you care to study character, here is your opportunity. the taller man is a police agent, the other the chief of a notorious secret society. i should first explain that within the last two or three days i have been helping a young italian of rather advanced views, not to put too fine a point upon it, to leave the country for america. this dog has dared to try to upset my plans. immediately i heard of it i sent word to him, by means of our friend here, that he was to present himself here before twelve o'clock to-night without fail. from his action it would appear that he is more frightened of me than he is of the secret society. that is as it should be; for i intend to teach him a little lesson which will prevent him from interfering with my plans in the future. you were talking of my science just now, and advising me to abandon it. could the life you offer me give me the power i possess now? could the respectability of clapham recompense me for the knowledge with which the east can furnish me?" then turning to the police agent he addressed him in italian, speaking so fast that it was impossible for me to follow him. from what little i could make out, however, i gathered that he was rating him for daring to interfere with his concerns. when, at the end of three or four minutes, he paused and spoke more slowly, this was the gist of his speech-- "you know me and the power i control. you are aware that those who thwart me, or who interfere with me and my concerns, do so at their own risk. since no harm has come of it, thanks to certain good friends, i will forgive on this occasion, but let it happen again and this is what your end will be." [illustration: "presently a picture shaped itself in the cloud."] as he spoke he took from his pocket a small glass bottle with a gold top, not unlike a vinaigrette, and emptied some of the white powder it contained into the palm of his hand. turning down the lamp he dropped this into the chimney. a green flame shot up for a moment, which was succeeded by a cloud of perfumed smoke that filled the room so completely that for a moment it was impossible for us to see each other. presently a picture shaped itself in the cloud and held my attention spell-bound. little by little it developed until i was able to make out a room, or rather i should say a vault, in which upwards of a dozen men were seated at a long table. they were all masked, and without exception were clad in long monkish robes with cowls of black cloth. presently a sign was made by the man at the head of the table, an individual with a venerable grey beard, and two more black figures entered, who led a man between them. their prisoner was none other than the police agent whom nikola had warned. he looked thinner, however, and was evidently much frightened by his position. once more the man at the head of the table raised his hand, and there entered at the other side an old man, with white hair and a long beard of the same colour. unlike the others he wore no cowl, nor was he masked. from his gestures i could see that he was addressing those seated at the table, and, as he pointed to the prisoner, a look of undying hatred spread over his face. then the man at the head of the table rose, and though i could hear nothing of what he said, i gathered that he was addressing his brethren concerning the case. when he had finished, and each of the assembly had voted by holding up his hand, he turned to the prisoner. as he did so the scene vanished instantly and another took its place. it was a small room that i looked upon now, furnished only with a bed, a table, and a chair. at the door was a man who had figured as a prisoner in the previous picture, but now sadly changed. he seemed to have shrunk to half his former size, his face was pinched by starvation, his eyes were sunken, but there was an even greater look of terror in them than had been there before. opening the door of the room he listened, and then shut and locked it again. it was as if he were afraid to go out, and yet knew that if he remained where he was, he must perish of starvation. gradually the room began to grow dark, and the terrified wretch paced restlessly up and down, listening at the door every now and then. once more the picture vanished as its companion had done, and a third took its place. this proved to be a narrow street-scene by moonlight. on either side the houses towered up towards the sky, and since there was no one about, it was plain that the night was far advanced. presently, creeping along in the shadow, on the left-hand side, searching among the refuse and garbage of the street for food, came the man i had seen afraid to leave his attic. times out of number he looked swiftly behind him, as if he thought it possible that he might be followed. he was but little more than half-way up the street, and was stooping to pick up something, when two dark figures emerged from a passage on the left, and swiftly approached him. before he had time to defend himself, they were upon him, and a moment later he was lying stretched out upon his back in the middle of the street, a dead man. the moon shone down full and clear upon his face, the memory of which makes me shudder even now. then the picture faded away and the room was light once more. instinctively i looked at the police agent. his usually swarthy face was deathly pale, and from the great beads of perspiration that stood upon his forehead, i gathered that he had seen the picture too. "now," said nikola, addressing him, "you have seen what is in store for you if you persist in pitting yourself against me. you recognized that grey-haired man, who had appealed to the council against you. then, rest assured of this! so surely as you continue your present conduct, so surely will the doom i have just revealed to you overtake you. now go, and remember what i have said." turning to the smaller man, nikola placed his hand in a kindly fashion upon his shoulder. "you have done well, tomasso," he said, "and i am pleased with you. drop our friend here at the usual place, and see that some one keeps an eye on him. i don't think, however, he will dare to offend again." on hearing this, the two men left the room and descended to the courtyard together, and i could easily imagine with what delight one of them would leave the house. when they had gone, nikola, who was standing at the window, turned to me, saying-- "what do you think of my conjuring?" i knew not what answer to make that would satisfy him. the whole thing seemed so impossible that, had it not been for the pungent odour that still lingered in the room, i could have believed i had fallen asleep and dreamed it all. "you can give me no explanation, then?" said nikola, with one of his inscrutable smiles. "and yet, having accumulated this power, this knowledge, call it what you will, you would still bid me give up science. come, my friend, you have seen something of what i can do; would you be brave enough to try, with my help, to look into what is called the great unknown, and see what the future has in store for you? i fancy it could be done. are you to be tempted to see your own end?" "no, no," i cried, "i will have nothing to do with such an unholy thing. good heavens, man! from that moment life would be unendurable!" "you think so, do you?" he said slowly, still keeping his eyes fixed on me. "and yet i have tried it myself." "my god, nikola!" i answered in amazement, for i knew him well enough to feel sure that he was not talking idly, "you don't mean to tell me that you know what your own end is going to be?" "exactly," he answered. "i have seen it all. it is not pleasant; but i think i may say without vanity that it will be an end worthy of myself." "but now that you know it, can you not avert it?" "nothing can be averted," he answered solemnly. "as i said before these men entered, what must be, must. what does schiller say? '_noch niemand entfloh dem verhangten geschick._'" "and you were brave enough to look?" "does it require so much bravery, do you think? believe me, there are things which require more." "what do you mean?" "ah! i cannot tell you now," he answered, shaking his head. "some day you will know." then there was a silence for a few seconds, during which we both stood looking down at the moonlit water below. at last, having consulted my watch and seeing how late it was, i told him that it was time for me to bid him good-night. "i am very grateful to you for coming, hatteras," he said. "it has cheered me up. it does me good to see you. through you i get a whiff of that other life of which you spoke a while back. i want to make you like me, and i fancy i am succeeding." then we left the room together, and went down the stairs to the courtyard below. side by side we stood upon the steps waiting for a gondola to put in an appearance. it was some time before one came in sight, but when it did so i hailed it, and then shook nikola by the hand and bade him good-night. "good-night," he answered. "pray remember me kindly to lady hatteras and to--miss trevor." the little pause before miss trevor's name caused me to look at him in some surprise. he noticed it and spoke at once. "you may think it strange of me to say so," he said, "but i cannot help feeling interested in that young lady. impossible though it may seem, i have a well-founded conviction that in some way her star is destined to cross mine, and before very long. i have only seen her twice in my life in the flesh; but many years ago her presence on the earth was revealed to me, and i was warned that some day we should meet. what that meeting will mean to me it is impossible to say, but in its own good time fate will doubtless tell me. and now, once more, good-night." "good-night," i answered mechanically, for i was too much surprised by his words to think what i was saying. then i entered the gondola and bade the man take me back to my hotel. "surely nikola has taken leave of his senses," i said to myself as i was rowed along. "gertrude trevor was the very last person in the world that i should have expected nikola to make such a statement about." at this point, however, i remembered how curiously she had been affected by their first meeting, and my mind began to be troubled concerning her. "let us hope and pray that nikola doesn't take it into his head to imagine himself in love with her," i continued to myself. "if he were to do so i scarcely know what the consequences would be." then, with a touch of the absurd, i wondered what her father, the eminently respected dean, would say to having nikola for a son-in-law. by the time i had reached this point in my reverie the gondola had drawn up at the steps of the hotel. my wife and miss trevor had gone to bed, but glenbarth was sitting up for me. "well, you have paid him a long visit, in all conscience," he said a little reproachfully. then he added, with what was intended to be a touch of sarcasm, "i hope you have spent a pleasant evening?" "i am not quite so certain about that," i replied. "indeed. then what have you discovered?" "one thing of importance," i answered; "that nikola grows more and more inscrutable every day." chapter v the more i thought upon my strange visit to the palace revecce that evening, the more puzzled i was by it. it had so many sides, and each so complex, that i scarcely knew which presented the most curious feature. what nikola's real reason had been for inviting me to call upon him, and why he should have told me the story, which i felt quite certain was that of his own life, was more than i could understand. moreover, why, having told it me, he should have so suddenly requested me to think no more about it, only added to my bewilderment. the incident of the two men, and the extraordinary conjuring trick, for conjuring trick it certainly was in the real meaning of the word, he had shown us, did not help to elucidate matters. if the truth must be told it rather added to the mystery than detracted from it. to sum it all up, i found, when i endeavoured to fit the pieces of the puzzle together, remembering also his strange remark concerning miss trevor, that i was as far from coming to any conclusion as i had been at the beginning. "you can have no idea how nervous i have been on your account to-night," said my wife, when i reached her room. "after dinner the duke gave us a description of doctor nikola's room, and told us its history. when i thought of your being there alone with him, i must confess i felt almost inclined to send a message to you imploring you to come home." "that would have been a great mistake, my dear," i answered. "you would have offended nikola, and we don't want to do that. i am sorry the duke told you that terrible story. he should not have frightened you with it. what did gertrude trevor think of it?" "she did not say anything about it," my wife replied. "but i could see that she was as frightened as i was. i am quite sure you would not get either of us to go there, however pressing doctor nikola's invitation might be. now tell me what he wanted to see you about." "he felt lonely and wanted some society," i answered, having resolved that on no account would i tell her all the truth concerning my visit to the palace revecce. "he also wanted me to witness something connected with a scheme he has originated for enabling people to get out of the country unobserved by the police. before i left he gave me a good example of the power he possessed." i then described to her the arrival of the two men and the lesson nikola had read to the police agent. the portion dealing with the conjuring trick i omitted. no good could have accrued from frightening her, and i knew that the sort of description i should be able to give of it would not be sufficiently impressive to enable her to see it in the light i desired. in any other way it would have struck her as ridiculous. "the man grows more and more extraordinary every day," she said. "and not the least extraordinary thing about him is the way he affects other people. for my own part i must confess that, while i fear him, i like him; the duke is frankly afraid of him; you are interested and repelled in turn; while gertrude, i fancy, regards him as a sort of supernatural being, who may turn one into a horse or a dog at a moment's notice, while senor galaghetti, with whom i had a short conversation to-day concerning him, was so enthusiastic in his praises that for once words failed him. he had never met any one so wonderful, he declared. he would lay down his life for him. it would appear that, on one occasion, when nikola was staying at the hotel, he cured galaghetti's eldest child of diphtheria. the child was at the last gasp and the doctors had given her up, when nikola made his appearance upon the scene. what he did, or how he did it, galaghetti did not tell me, but it must have been something decidedly irregular, for the other doctors were aghast and left the house in a body. the child, however, rallied from that moment, and, as galaghetti proudly informed me, 'is now de artiste of great repute upon de pianoforte in paris.' i have never heard of her, but it would appear that galaghetti not only attributes her life, but also her musical success, to the fact that nikola was staying in the hotel at the time when the child was taken ill. the duke was with me when galaghetti told me this, and, when he heard it, he turned away with an exclamation that sounded very like 'humbug!' i do hope that doctor nikola and the duke won't quarrel?" as she put this in the form of a question, i felt inclined to reply with the expression the duke had used. i did not do so, however, but contented myself with assuring her that she need have no fears upon that score. a surprise, however, was in store for me. "what have they to quarrel about?" i asked. "they have nothing in common." "that only proves how blind you are to what goes on around you," my wife replied. "have you not noticed that they _both admire gertrude trevor_?" falling so pat upon my own thoughts, this gave me food for serious reflection. "how do you know that nikola admires her?" i asked, a little sharply, i fear, for when one has uncomfortable suspicions one is not always best pleased to find that another shares them. a double suspicion might be described as almost amounting to a certainty. "i am confident of it," she replied. "did you not notice his manner towards her on the night of our excursion? it was most marked." "my dear girl," i said irritably, "if you are going to begin this sort of thing, you don't know where you will find yourself in the end. nikola has been a wanderer all his life. he has met people of every nationality, of every rank and description. it is scarcely probable, charming though i am prepared to admit she is, that he would be attracted by our friend. besides, i had it from his own lips this morning that he will never marry." "you may be just as certain as you please," she answered. "nevertheless, i adhere to my opinion." knowing what was in my own mind, and feeling that if the argument continued i might let something slip that i should regret, i withdrew from the field, and, having questioned her concerning certain news she had received from england that day, bade her good-night. next morning we paid a visit to the palace of the doges, and spent a pleasant and instructive couple of hours in the various rooms. whatever _nikola's_ feelings may have been, there was by this time not the least doubt that the duke admired miss trevor. though the lad had known her for so short a time he was already head over ears in love. i think gertrude was aware of the fact, and i feel sure that she liked him, but whether the time was not yet ripe, or her feminine instinct warned her to play her fish for a while before attempting to land him, i cannot say; at any rate she more than once availed herself of an opportunity and moved away from him to take her place at my side. as you may suppose, glenbarth was not rendered any the happier by these manoeuvres; indeed, by the time we left the palace, he was as miserable a human being as could have been found in all venice. before lunch, however, she relented a little towards him, and when we sat down to the meal in question our friend had in some measure recovered his former spirits. not so my wife, however; though i did not guess it, i was in for a wigging. "how could you treat the poor fellow so badly?" she said indignantly, when we were alone together afterwards. "if you are not very careful you'll spoil everything." "spoil what?" i inquired, as if i did not understand to what she alluded. "you have lately developed a habit of speaking in riddles." "fiddle-de-dee!" she answered scornfully, "you know very well to what i allude. i think your conduct at the palace this morning was disgraceful. you, a married man and a father, to try and spoil the pleasure of that poor young man." "but she began it," i answered in self-defence. "did you not see that she preferred my company to his?" "of course that was only make-believe," my wife replied. "you are as well aware of that as i am." "i know nothing of the kind," i returned. "if the girl does not know her own mind, then it is safer that she should pretend, as she did to-day." "she was not pretending. you know that gertrude trevor is as honest as the day." "then you admit that she was only playing her fish?" i said. "if you are going to be vulgar i shall leave you," she retorted; "i don't know what you mean by 'playing her fish.' gertrude only came to you because she did not want to allow her liking for the duke to appear too conspicuous." "it's the same thing in the end," i answered. "believe me it is! you describe it as not making her conduct appear too conspicuous, while i call it 'playing her fish.' i have the best possible recollection of a young lady who used to play quoits with me on the deck of the _orotava_ a good many years ago. one day--we were approaching naples at the time--she played game after game with the doctor, and snubbed me unmercifully." "you know very well that i didn't mean it," she answered, with a stamp of her foot. "you know i had to act as i did." "i don't mind admitting that," i replied. "nevertheless, you were playing your fish. that night after dinner you forgave me and----" she slipped her arm through mine and gave it a hug. i could afford to be generous. "those were dear old days, were they not? i, for one, am not going to quarrel about them. now let us go and find the others." we discovered them in the balcony, listening to some musicians in a gondola below. miss trevor plainly hailed our coming with delight; the duke, however, was by no means so well pleased. he did his best, however, to conceal his chagrin. going to the edge of the balcony i looked down at the boat. the musicians were four in number, two men and two girls, and, at the moment of our putting in an appearance, one of them was singing the "ave maria" from the _cavalleria rusticana_, in a manner that i had seldom heard it sung before. she was a handsome girl, and knew the value of her good looks. beside her stood a man with a guitar, and i gave a start as i looked at him. did my eyes deceive me, or was this the man who had accompanied the police agent to nikola's residence on the previous evening? i looked again and felt sure that i could not be mistaken. he possessed the same bullet-head with the close-cropped hair, the same clean-shaven face, and the same peculiarly square shoulders. no! i felt sure that he was the man. but if so, what was he doing here under our windows? one thing was quite apparent; if he recognized me, he did not give me evidence of the fact. he played and looked up at us without the slightest sign of recognition. to all intents and purposes he was the picture of indifference. while they were performing i recalled the scene of the previous night, and wondered what had become of the police officer, and what the man below me had thought of the curious trick nikola had performed? it was only when they had finished their entertainment and, having received our reward, were about to move away that i received any information to the effect that the man had recognized me. "illustrious senora, senorita, and senors, i thank you," he said, politely lifting his hat as he spoke. "our performance has been successful, and the obstacle which threatened it at one time has been removed." the gondola then passed on, and i turned to the duke as if for an explanation. "at first the hall-porter was not inclined to let them sing here," the duke remarked, "but miss trevor wanted to hear them, so i sent word down that i wished them to remain." in spite of the explanation i understood to what the man had referred, but for the life of me i could not arrive at his reason for visiting our hotel that day. i argued that it might have been all a matter of chance, but i soon put that idea aside as absurd. the coincidence was too remarkable. at lunch my wife announced that she had heard that morning that lady beltringham, the wife of our neighbour in the forest, was in venice, and staying at a certain hotel further along the grand canal. "gertrude and i are going to call upon her this afternoon," she said, "so that you two gentlemen must amuse yourselves as best you can without us." "that is very easily done," i answered; "the duke is going to have his hair cut, and i am going to witness the atrocity. you may expect to see him return not unlike that man with the guitar in the boat this morning." "by the way," said glenbarth, "that reminds me that i was going to point out a curious thing to you concerning that man. did you notice, miss trevor, that when we were alone together in the balcony he did not once touch his instrument, but directly hatteras and lady hatteras arrived, he jumped up and began to play?" this confirmed my suspicions. i had quite come to the conclusion by this time that the man had only made his appearance before the hotel in order to be certain of my address. yet, i had to ask myself, if he were in nikola's employ, why should he have been anxious to do so? an hour later the ladies departed on their polite errand, and the duke and i were left together. he was not what i should call a good companion. he was in an irritable mood, and nothing i could do or say seemed to comfort him. i knew very well what was the matter, and when we had exhausted english politics, the rise and fall of venice, ruskin, and the advantages of foreign travel, i mentioned incidentally the name of miss trevor. the frown vanished from his face, and he answered like a coherent mortal. "look here, hatteras," he said, with a fine burst of confidence, "you and i have been friends for a good many years, and i think we know each other about as well as two men can do." "that is so," i answered, wondering what he was driving at; "we have been through some strange adventures together, and should certainly know each other. i hope that you are not going to propose that we should depart on some harum-scarum expedition like that you wanted me to join you in last year, to the pamirs, was it not? if so, i can tell you once and for all that my lady won't hear of it." "confound the pamirs!" he replied angrily. "is it likely that i should think of going there just now? you misunderstand my meaning entirely. what i want is a sympathetic friend, who can enter into my troubles, and if possible help me out of them." for the life of me i could not forbear from teasing him for a little longer. "my dear old fellow," i said, "you know that i will do anything i possibly can to help you. take my advice and get rid of the man at once. as i told you in my letter to you before you left england, it is only misplaced kindness to keep him on. you know very well that he has been unfaithful to you for some years past. then why allow him to continue in his wrong-doing? the smash will come sooner or later." "what do you mean?" he asked. "well, i suppose your trouble is connected with the agent you were telling me of yesterday. the man who, it was discovered, had been cooking the accounts, selling your game, pocketing the proceeds, and generally feathering his own nest at your expense." an ominous frown gathered upon my friend's forehead. "upon my word," he said, "i really believe you are taking leave of your senses. do you think i am bothering myself at such a time about that wretched mitchell? let him sell every beast upon the farms, every head of game, and, in point of fact, let him swindle me as he likes, and i wouldn't give a second thought to him." "i am very sorry," i answered penitently, rolling the leaf of my cigar. "then it was the yacht you were thinking about? you have had what i consider a very good offer for her. let her go! you are rich enough to be able to build another, and the work will amuse you. you want employment of some sort." "i am not thinking of the yacht either," he growled. "you know that as well as i do." "how should i know it?" i answered. "i am not able to tell what is in your mind. i do not happen to be like nikola." "you are singularly obtuse to-day," he asserted, throwing what remained of his cigar into the canal and taking another from his case. "look here," i said, "you're pitching into me because i can't appreciate your position. now how am i likely to be able to do so, considering that you've told me nothing about it? before we left london you informed me that the place you had purchased in warwickshire was going to prove your chief worry in life. i said, 'sell it again.' then you found that your agent in yorkshire was not what he might be. i advised you to get rid of him. you would not do so because of his family. then you confessed in a most lugubrious fashion that your yacht was practically becoming unseaworthy by reason of her age. i suggested that you should sell her to deeside, who likes her, or part with her for a junk. you vowed you would not do so because she was a favourite. now you are unhappy, and i naturally suppose that it must be one of those things which is causing you uneasiness. you scout the idea. what, therefore, am i to believe? upon my word, my friend, if i did not remember that you have always declared your abhorrence of the sex, i should begin to think you must be in love." he looked at me out of the corner of his eye. i pretended not to notice it, however, and still rolled the leaf of my cigar. "would it be such a very mad thing if i did fall in love?" he asked at last. "my father did so before me, and i believe my grandfather did also. you, yourself, committed the same indiscretion." "and you have seen the miserable result?" "i have observed one of the happiest couples in the world," he replied. "but, joking apart, hatteras, i want to talk the matter over with you seriously. i don't mind telling you at once, as between friend and friend, that i want to marry miss trevor." i endeavoured to look surprised, but i fear the attempt was a failure. "may i remind you," i said, "that you have known her barely a week? i don't want to discourage you, but is not your affection of rather quick growth?" "it is, but it does not mean that i am any the less sincere. i tell you candidly, dick, i have never seen such a girl in my life. she would make any man happy." "very likely, but would any man make her happy?" his face fell, and he shifted uneasily in his chair. "confound you," he said, "you put everything in a new light. why should i not be able to make her happy? there are lots of women who would give their lives to be a duchess!" "i admit that," i answered. "i don't fancy, however, your rank will make much difference with miss trevor. when a woman is a lady, and in love, she doesn't mind very much whether the object of her affections is a duke or a chimney-sweep. don't make the mistake of believing that a dukedom counts for everything where the heart is concerned. we outsiders should have no chance at all if that were the case." "but, hatteras," he said, "i didn't mean that. i'm not such a cad as to imagine that miss trevor would marry me simply because i happen to have a handle to my name. i want to put the matter plainly before you. i have told you that i love her, do you think there is any chance of her taking a liking to me?" "now that you have told me what is in your mind," i answered, "i can safely state my opinion. mind you, i know nothing about the young lady's ideas, but if i were a young woman, and an exceedingly presentable young man--you may thank me for the compliment afterwards--were to lay his heart at my feet, especially when that heart is served up on strawberry leaves and five-pound notes, i fancy i should be inclined to think twice before i discouraged his advances. whether miss trevor will do so, however, is quite another matter." "then you are not able to give me any encouragement?" "i will wish you god-speed upon your enterprise," i said, "if that is any satisfaction to you. i cannot do more." as i said it i held out my hand, which he took and shook. "god bless you, old man," he said, "you don't know what all this means to me. i've suffered agonies these last two days. i believe i should go mad if it continued. yesterday she was kindness itself. to-day she will scarcely speak to me. i believe lady hatteras takes my side?" i was not to be caught napping. "you must remember that lady hatteras herself is an impressionable young woman," i answered. "she likes you and believes in you, and because she does she thinks her friend ought to do so also. now look here, your grace----" "you needn't put on any side of that kind," he answered reproachfully. "i believe i am talking to the duke of glenbarth," i returned. "you are talking to your old friend, the man who went round the world with you, if that's what you mean," he answered. "what is it you have to say?" "i want you to plainly understand that miss trevor is my guest. i want you also to try to realize, however difficult it may be, that you have only known her a very short time. she is a particularly nice girl, as you yourself have admitted. it would be scarcely fair, therefore, if i were to permit you to give her the impression that you were in love with her until you have really made up your mind. think it well over. take another week, or shall we say a fortnight? a month would be better still." he groaned in despair. "you might as well say a year while you are about it. what is the use of my waiting even a week when i know my own mind already?" "because you must give your affection time to set. take a week. if at the end of that time you are still as much in earnest as you are now, well, the matter will be worth thinking about. you can then speak to the young lady or not, as you please. on the other hand, should your opinion have changed, then i have been your only confidant, and no harm has been done. if she accepts you, i can honestly say that no one will be more delighted than myself. if not, you must look elsewhere, and then she must marry the man she likes better. do you agree?" "as i can't help myself i suppose i must," he answered. "but my position during the next week is not likely to be a very cheerful one." "i don't at all see why," i replied. "lots of others have been compelled to do their courting under harder auspices. myself for instance. here you are staying in the same house as the object of your affections. you meet her almost every hour of the day; you have innumerable opportunities of paying your court to her, and yet with all these advantages you abuse your lot." "i know i am an ungrateful beast," he said. "but, by jove, dick, when one is as much in love as i am, and with the most adorable woman in the world, and matters don't seem to go right, one ought to be excused if one feels inclined to quarrel with somebody." "quarrel away with all your heart," i answered. "and now i am going down with you to the hairdresser. after that we'll go to the piazza." "i suppose i must," he said, rising from his chair with a fine air of resignation. "though what fun you can discover in that crowd i cannot for the life of me imagine." i did not remind him that on the previous afternoon he had declared it to be the most amusing sight in europe. that would have been an unfair advantage to have taken, particularly as i had punished him enough already. we accordingly procured our hats and sticks, and having secured a gondola, set off. it was a lovely afternoon, and the grand canal was crowded. as we passed the entrance to the rio del consiglio, i stole a glance at the palace revecce. no gondola was at the door, so whether nikola was at home or abroad i could not say. when glenbarth had been operated upon we proceeded to the piazza of saint mark, which we reached somewhat before the usual afternoon promenade. the band had not commenced to play, and the idlers were few in number. having engaged two chairs at one of the tables we sat down and ordered coffee. the duke was plainly ill at ease. he fretted and fidgeted continually. his eyes scarcely wandered from the steps of the lagoon, and every gondola that drew up received his scrutinizing attention. when at last two ladies disembarked and made their way across the stones towards florian's _café_, where we were seated, i thought he would have made an exhibition of himself. lady beltringham, it would appear, had arrived, but was so fatigued by her long journey that she was unable to receive visitors. "we returned almost immediately to the hotel," said my wife reproachfully. "we thought you would have waited for us there." glenbarth looked at me as if nothing i could ever do would make up for the enormity of my offence. he then described to miss trevor some wonderful photographs he had discovered that morning in a certain shop on the other side of the piazza. she questioned him concerning them, and i suggested that they should go off and overhaul them. this they did, and when they had departed my wife produced some letters for me she had taken from the rack at the hotel. i looked at the writing upon the envelope of the first, but for a moment could not recall where or when i had seen it before. then i opened it and withdrew the contents. "why, it's from george anstruther," i exclaimed when i had examined the signature. "he is in algiers." "but what is the letter about?" my wife inquired. "you have not heard from him for so long." "i'll read it," i said, and began as follows-- "my dear hatteras, "here i am in the most charming place on the whole mediterranean, and i ought to know, for i've seen and loathed all the others. my villa overlooks the sea, and my yacht rides at anchor in the bay. there are many nice people here, and not the least pleasant is my very good friend, don josè de martinos, who is leaving to-day for his first visit to venice, _viâ_ nice, and i understand from him that he is to stay at your hotel. he is a delightful creature; has seen much of the world, and if you will admit him to the circle of your acquaintance, i don't think you will regret it. i need not bore either myself or you by repeating the hackneyed phrase to the effect that any civility you show him will be considered a kindness to myself, etc., etc. remember me most kindly to lady hatteras, and "believe me to be, "ever sincerely yours, "george anstruther." my wife uttered a little cry of vexation. "pleasant though he may prove, i cannot help saying that i am sorry don josè martinos is coming," she said. "our little party of four was so happily arranged, and who knows but that a fifth may upset its peace altogether?" "but he is anstruther's friend," i said in expostulation. "one must be civil to one's friends' friends." "i do not at all see why," she answered. "because we like mr. anstruther it does not follow that we shall like his friend." at that moment the young couple were to be observed crossing the piazza in our direction. glenbarth carried a parcel under his arm. "i don't think there is much doubt about that affair," said my wife, as she regarded them approvingly. "don't be too sure," i answered. "there is many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip, and there is another old saying to the effect that those who live longest see most." one is sometimes oracular even in jest. chapter vi on the following day, having sent my servant to inquire, i was informed that the don josè de martinos had arrived at the hotel, and had engaged rooms on the floor above our own. accordingly, after luncheon i ascended to the rooms in question, and asked whether he would receive me. i had scarcely waited more than a minute before he made his appearance. he paused on the threshold to give an order to his man, and while he did so, i was permitted an opportunity of taking stock of him. he was a tall, muscular man of between thirty-five and forty years of age. his appearance did not betray so much of his spanish origin as i had expected. indeed, it would have been difficult to have given him a nationality. i noticed that his beard, which he wore closely clipped, was not innocent of the touch of time. his face was a powerful one, but at first glance i was not altogether prepossessed in its favour. his hands and feet were small, the former particularly so for a man of his size and build. moreover, he was faultlessly dressed, and carried himself with the air of a man of the world and of good breeding. "sir richard hatteras," he said, as he crossed the room to greet me, "this is kind of you indeed. my friend, anstruther, informed me that you were in venice, and was good enough to take upon himself the responsibility of introducing me to you." his voice was strong and musical, and he pronounced every word (he spoke excellent english) as if it had a value of its own. i inquired after anstruther's health, which for some time past had been precarious, and it was with satisfaction that i learnt of the improvement that had taken place in it. "you would scarcely know him now," said martinos. "he looks quite strong again. but permit me to offer you a cigar. we spaniards say that we cannot talk unless we smoke; you english that you cannot smoke if you talk." as he said this he handed me a box of cigars. "i fancy you will like them," he said. "the tobacco was grown upon my own estate in cuba; for that reason i can guarantee their purity." the weed i selected was excellent, in fact one of the best cigars i had ever smoked. while he was lighting his i stole another glance at him. decidedly he was a handsome man, but--here was the stumbling-block--there was something, i cannot say what, about him that i did not altogether like. it was not a crafty face, far from it. the eyes were well placed; the mouth from what one could see of it under his black moustache was well moulded, with white, even teeth; the nose was slightly aquiline; and the chin large, firm, and square. nevertheless, there was something about it that did not suit my fancy. once i told myself it was a cruel face, yet the singularly winning smile that followed a remark of mine a moment later went some way towards disabusing my mind upon that point. "lady hatteras, i understood from senor anstruther, is with you," he said, after we had talked of other things. "she is down-stairs at this moment," i answered. "we are a party of four--miss trevor (the daughter of the dean of bedminster), the duke of glenbarth, my wife, and myself. i hope you will permit me the pleasure of introducing you to them at an early date." "i shall be most happy," he replied. "i am particularly fond of venice, but, when all is said and done, one must have companions to enjoy it thoroughly." i had been given to understand that this was his first visit to the queen of the adriatic, but i did not comment upon the fact. "one is inclined to believe that adam would have enjoyed the garden of eden if it had not been for eve," i remarked, with a smile. "poor adam," he answered, "i have always thought him a much-abused man. unlike ourselves, he was without experience; he had a companion forced upon him who worked his ruin, and his loss on the transaction was not only physical but financial." "how long do you contemplate remaining in venice?" i asked, after the little pause that followed his last speech. "i scarcely know," he answered. "my movements are most erratic. i am that most unfortunate of god's creatures, a wanderer on the face of the earth. i have no relations and few friends. i roam about as the fancy takes me, remain in a place as long as it pleases me, and then, like the arab in the poem, silently take up my tent and move on as soon as the city i happen to be in at the time has lost its charm. i possess a _pied-à-terre_ of four rooms in cairo, i have lived amongst the khabyles in the desert, and with the armenians in the mountains. to sum it up, i have the instincts of the wandering jew, and fortunately the means of gratifying them." what it was i cannot say, but there was something in his speech that grated upon my feelings. whether what he had said were true or not, i am not in a position to affirm, but the impression i received was that he was talking for effect, and every one will know what that means. "as you are such a globe-trotter," i said, "i suppose there is scarcely a portion of the world that you have not visited?" "i have perhaps had more than my share of travelling," he answered. "i think i can safely say that, with the exception of south america, i have visited every portion of the known globe." "you have never been in south america then?" i asked in some surprise. "never," he replied, and immediately changed the conversation by inquiring whether i had met certain of anstruther's friends who were supposed to be on their way to venice. a few minutes later, after having given him an invitation to dinner on the next evening, i bade him good-bye and left him. on my return my wife was eager to question me concerning him, but as things stood i did not feel capable of giving her a detailed reply. there are some acquaintances who, one feels, will prove friends from the outset; there are others who fill one from the first with a vague distrust. not that i altogether distrusted martinos, i had not seen enough of him to do that; at the same time, however, i could not conscientiously say, as i have already observed, that i was altogether prepossessed in his favour. the following morning he accepted my invitation for that evening, and punctually at half-past seven he made his appearance in the drawing-room. i introduced him to my wife, and also to miss trevor when she joined us. "my husband tells me that you are a great traveller," said phyllis, after they had seated themselves. "he says you know the world as we know london." "your husband does me too much honour," he answered modestly. "from what i have heard of you, you must know the world almost as well as i do. my friend, anstruther, has told me a romantic story about you. something connected with a south sea island, and a mysterious personage named----" he paused for a moment as if to remember the name. "nikola," i said; "you do not happen to have met him, i suppose?" "to my knowledge, never," he answered. "it is a strange surname." at that moment glenbarth entered the room, and i introduced the two men to each other. for some reason of my own i was quite prepared to find that the duke would not take a fancy to our new acquaintance, nor was i destined to be disappointed. before dinner was half over i could see that he had a great difficulty in being civil to the stranger. had martinos not been our guest, i doubt very much whether he would have been able to control himself. and yet the spaniard laid himself out in every way to please. his attentions were paid chiefly to my wife, i do not believe that he addressed miss trevor more than a dozen times throughout the meal. notwithstanding this fact, glenbarth regarded him with evident animosity, insomuch that miss trevor more than once looked at him with an expression of positive alarm upon her face. she had not seen him in this humour before, and though she may have had her suspicions as to the reason of it, it was plain that she was far from approving of his line of action. when the ladies withdrew, and the wine was being circulated, i endeavoured to draw the two men into greater harmony with each other. the attempt, however, was unsuccessful. more than once glenbarth said things which bordered on rudeness, until i began to feel angry with him. on one occasion, happening to look up suddenly from the cigar which i was cutting, i detected a look upon the spaniard's face that startled me. it however showed me one thing, and that was the fact that despite his genial behaviour, martinos had not been blind to the young man's treatment of himself, and also that, should a time ever arrive when he would have a chance of doing glenbarth a mischief, he would not be forgetful of the debt he owed him. matters were not much better when we adjourned to the drawing-room. glenbarth, according to custom, seated himself beside miss trevor, and studiously ignored the spaniard. i was more sorry for this than i could say. it was the behaviour of a school-boy, not that of a man of the world; and the worst part of it was, that it was doing glenbarth no sort of good in the eyes of the person with whom he wished to stand best. the truth was the poor lad was far from being himself. he was suffering from an acute attack of a disease which has not yet received the proper attention of science--the disease of first love. so overwhelmed was he by his passion, that he could not bear any stranger even to look upon the object of his adoration. later in the evening matters reached their climax, when my wife asked the don to sing. "i feel sure that you _do_ sing," she said in that artless way which women often affect. "i try sometimes to amuse my friends," said he, and begging us to excuse him he retired to his own rooms, to presently return with a large spanish guitar. having taken a seat near the window, and when he had swept his fingers over the strings in a few preliminary chords, he commenced to sing. he was the possessor of a rich baritone, which he used with excellent effect. my wife was delighted, and asked him to sing again. miss trevor also expressed her delight, and seconded my wife's proposal. this was altogether too much for glenbarth. muttering something about a severe headache he hurriedly left the room. my wife and i exchanged glances, but martinos and miss trevor did not appear to notice his absence. this time he sang a spanish fishing-song, but i did not pay much attention to it. a little later the don, having thanked us for our hospitality, took his departure, and when miss trevor had said good-night to us, and had retired to her own room, my wife and i were left alone together. "what could have made the duke behave like that?" she said. "he is madly in love, my dear, and also madly jealous," i answered. "i hope and trust, however, that he is not going to repeat this performance." "if he does he will imperil any chance he has of winning gertrude's love," she replied. "he will also place us in a decidedly awkward position." "let this be a lesson to you, my dear, never to play with fire again," i replied. "you bring two inflammable people together, and wonder that there should be an explosion." "well, i'm really very angry with him. i don't know what the don josè must have thought." "probably he thought nothing about it," i replied. "you mustn't be too angry with glenbarth, however. leave him to me, and i'll talk to him. to-morrow, i promise you, he'll be sorry for himself. if i know anything of women, gertrude will make him wish he had acted differently." "i don't think she will bother about the matter. she has too much sense." "very well; we shall see." i then bade her go to bed, promising myself to sit up for glenbarth, who, i discovered, had gone out. it was nearly midnight when he returned. i noticed that every trace of ill-humour had vanished from his face, and that he was quite himself once more. "my dear dick," he said, "i don't know how to apologize for my ridiculous and rude behaviour of to-night. i am more ashamed of myself than i can say. i behaved like a child." because he happened to be in a repentant mood i was not going to let him off the chastising i felt that i ought to give him. "a nice sort of young fellow you are, upon my word," i said, putting down the paper i had been reading as i spoke. "i've a very good mind to tell you exactly what i think of you." "it would be only wasting your time," he returned. "for you can't think half as badly of me as i do of myself. i can't imagine what made me do it." "can't you?" i said. "well, i can, and as you are pretty certain to catch it in one particular quarter to-morrow, i fancy, on mature reflection, that i can afford to forgive you. the man had done you no harm; he not only did not interfere with you, but he was not trespassing upon your----" "don't speak of him," said the young fellow, flaring up at once. "if i think of him i shall get angry again. i can't bear the look of the beggar." "steady, my young friend, steady," i returned. "you mustn't call other people's friends by that name." "he is not your friend," said glenbarth excitedly. "you've never seen him until to-night, and you've known me ever since i was about so high." "i began to imagine you only 'so high' this evening," i said. "it's a good thing for you that the wife has gone to bed, or i fancy you would have heard something that would have made your ears tingle. after the foolish manner of women, she has come to the conclusion that she would like you to marry miss trevor." "god bless her!" he said fervently. "i knew that she was my friend." "in that case you would probably have enjoyed a friend's privilege, had you been here to-night before she retired, and have received a dressing-down that is usually reserved for her husband. i live in hopes that you may get it to-morrow." "bosh!" he answered. "and now, if you have forgiven me, i think i will go to bed. i've had enough of myself for one day." with that we shook hands, and bade each other good-night. at his bedroom door he stopped me. "do you think she will forgive me?" he asked, as humbly as would a boy who had been caught stealing sugar-plums. "my wife," i answered. "yes, i think it is very probable that she will." "no, no; how dense you are; i mean----" here he nodded his head in the direction of the room occupied by miss trevor. "you'll have to find out that for yourself," i replied, and then went on to my dressing-room. "that will give your grace something to think about all night," i said, as i took off my coat. as it turned out, i was destined to be fairly accurate in the prophecy i had made concerning miss trevor's treatment of glenbarth on the morrow. at breakfast she did not altogether ignore him, but when i say that she devoted the larger share of her attention to myself, those of my readers who are married, and have probably had the same experience, will understand. my wife, on the other hand, was affability itself, and from her behaviour toward him appeared to be quite willing to forgive and forget the unfortunate episode of the previous evening. i chuckled to myself, but said nothing. he was not at the end of his punishment yet. all that day we saw nothing of martinos. whether he remained at home or went abroad we could not say. on returning to the hotel to lunch, however, we discovered a basket of roses in the drawing-room, with the don's card tied to the handle. "oh, what lovely flowers!" cried my wife in an ecstasy. "look, gertrude, are they not beautiful?" miss trevor cordially admired them; and in order, i suppose, that glenbarth's punishment might be the more complete, begged for a bud to wear herself. one was given her, while i watched glenbarth's face over the top of the letter i was reading at the moment. my heart was touched by his miserable face, and when he and my wife had left the room to prepare for lunch, i determined to put in a good word for him. "miss gertrude," i said, "as an old friend i have a favour to ask of you. do you think you can grant it?" "you must first tell me what it is," she said, with a smile upon her face. "i know from experience that you are not to be trusted." "a nice sort of character for a family man," i protested. "lady hatteras has been telling tales, i can see." "your wife would never tell a tale of any one, particularly of you," she asserted. "but what would you ask of me?" "only a plea for human happiness," i said with mock gravity. "i have seen absolute despair written indelibly on a certain human countenance to-day, and the sight has troubled me ever since. are you aware that there is a poor young man in this hotel, whose face opens like a daisy to the sun when you smile upon him, and closes in the darkness of your neglect?" "how absurd you are!" "why am i absurd?" "because you talk in this fashion." "will you smile upon him again? he has suffered a great deal these last two days." "really you are too ridiculous. i don't know what you mean." "that is not the truth, miss trevor, and you know it." "but what have i done wrong?" "that business with the rose just now, for instance, was cruel, to say the least of it." "really, sir richard, you _do_ say such foolish things. if i want a rose to wear surely i may have one. but i must not stay talking to you, it's five-and-twenty minutes past one. i must go and get ready for lunch." i held open the door for her, and as she passed i said-- "you will do what i ask? just to please me?" "i don't know what you mean, but i will think it over," she replied, and then departed to her room. she must have done as she promised, for the rose was absent from her dress when she sat down to lunch. glenbarth noticed it, and from that moment his drooping spirits revived. that afternoon my wife and i went down to meet the p. and o. mail-boat, in order to discover some friends who were on their way to egypt. as neither the duke of glenbarth nor miss trevor were acquainted with them they were excused from attendance. when we joined them it was plain that all traces of trouble had been removed, and in consequence the duke was basking in the seventh heaven of happiness. had i asked the young man at that moment for half his estates i believe he would willingly have given them to me. he would have done so even more willingly had he known that it was to my agency that he owed the wondrous change in his affairs. for some reason of her own miss trevor was also in the best of spirits. my wife was happy because her turtle-doves were happy, and i beamed upon them all with the complacency of the god out of the machine. all this time i had been wondering as to the reason why we had not heard or seen anything of nikola. why i should have expected to do so i cannot say, but after the events of three evenings ago, i had entertained a vague hope that i should have seen him, or that he would have communicated with me in some form or another. we were to see him, however, before very long. we had arranged to visit the academy on our return from the mail-boat, where my wife was anxious to renew her acquaintance with the titans. for my own part i am prepared to admit that my knowledge of the pictures is not sufficiently cultivated to enable me to derive any pleasure from the constant perusal of these masters. phyllis and miss trevor, however, managed to discover a source of considerable satisfaction in them. when we left the gallery, we made our way, according to custom, in the direction of the piazza of saint mark. we had not advanced very far upon our walk, however, before i chanced to turn round, to discover, striding after us, no less a person than our new acquaintance, don josè martinos. he bowed to the ladies, shook hands with myself, and nodded to the duke. "if you are proceeding in the direction of the piazza, will you permit me to accompany you?" he asked, and that permission having been given by my wife, we continued our walk. what glenbarth thought of it i do not know, but as he had miss trevor to himself, i do not see that he had anything to complain of. on reaching florian's _café_, we took our customary seats, the don placing himself next to my wife, and laying himself out to be agreeable. once he addressed glenbarth, and i was astonished to see the conciliatory manner that the other adopted towards him. "now that he sees that he has nothing to fear, perhaps he will not be so jealous," i said to myself, and indeed it appeared as if this were likely to be the case. i was more relieved by this discovery than i could say. as we should probably be some time in venice, and the don had arrived with the same intention, and we were to be located in the same hotel, it was of the utmost importance to our mutual comforts that there should be no friction between the two men. but enough of this subject for the present. there are other matters to be considered. in the first place i must put on record a curious circumstance. in the light of after events it bears a strange significance, and he would be a courageous man who would dare to say that he could explain it. it must be borne in mind, in order that the importance of what i am now about to describe may be plainly understood, that miss trevor was seated facing me, that is to say, with her back towards the cathedral of st. mark. she was in the best of spirits, and at the moment was engaged in an animated discussion with my wife on the effect of ancient art upon her _bête noir_, the cockney tourist. suddenly, without any apparent reason, her face grew deathly pale, and she came to a sudden stop in the middle of a sentence. fortunately no one noticed it but my wife and myself, and as she was herself again in a moment, we neither of us called attention to it. a moment later i glanced across the square, and to my amazement saw no less a person than doctor nikola approaching us. was it possible that miss trevor, in some extraordinary manner, had become aware of his proximity to her, or was it only one of those strange coincidences that are so difficult to explain away? i did not know what to think then, nor, as a matter of fact, do i now. reaching our party, nikola raised his hat to the ladies. "i fear, lady hatteras," he said, "that i must have incurred your displeasure for keeping your husband so long away from you the other night. if so, i hope you will forgive me." "i will endeavour to do so," said my wife with a smile, "but you must be very careful how you offend again." then turning to miss trevor, he said, "i hope you will grant me your gracious intercession, miss trevor?" "i will do my best for you," she answered, with a seriousness that made my wife and i look at her. then nikola shook hands with glenbarth, and glanced at the don. "permit me to introduce you to don josè de martinos, doctor nikola," i said; "he has lately arrived from algiers." the two men bowed gravely to each other. "you are fond of travelling, i presume, senor," said nikola, fixing his eyes upon the don. "i have seen a considerable portion of the world," the other answered. "i have seen the midnight sun at cape north and the drift ice off the horn." "and have not found it all barren," nikola remarked gravely. from that moment the conversation flowed smoothly. miss trevor had quite recovered herself, and i could see that the don was intensely interested in nikola. and indeed on this particular occasion the latter exerted himself to the utmost to please. i will admit, however, that something not unlike a shudder passed over me as i contrasted his present affability with his manner when he had threatened the unfortunate police agent a few nights before. now he was a suave, pleasant-mannered man of the world, then he figured almost as an avenging angel; now he discussed modern literature, then i had heard him threaten a human being with the direst penalties that it was possible for man to inflict. when it was time for us to return to our hotel, nikola rose and bade us good-bye. "i hope you will permit me the pleasure of seeing more of you while you are in venice," said nikola, addressing the don. "if you are an admirer of the old palaces of this wonderful city, and our friends will accompany you, i shall be delighted to show you my own poor abode. it possesses points of interest that many of the other palaces lack, and, though it has fallen somewhat to decay, i fancy you will admit that the fact does not altogether detract from its interest." "i shall hasten to avail myself of the opportunity you are kind enough to offer me," the other replied, after which they bowed ceremoniously to each other and parted. "your friend is an extraordinary man," said the don as we walked towards the steps. "i have never met a more interesting person. does he altogether reside in venice?" "oh dear, no," i replied. "if one were asked to say where nikola had his abode it would be almost necessary to say 'in the world.' i myself met him first in london, afterwards in egypt, then in australia, and later on in the south sea islands. now we are together again in venice. i have good reason for knowing that he is also familiar with china and thibet. he himself confesses to a knowledge of africa and central america." "to central america?" said the don quickly. "pray what part of central america does he know?" "that i am unable to say," i replied. "i have never questioned him upon the subject." from that moment the don almost exclusively addressed himself to my wife, and did not refer to nikola again. we parted in the hall of the hotel. next morning we saw him for a few moments at the post-office, but at no other time during the day. on the following day he accompanied us on an excursion to chioggia, and dined with us afterwards. though i knew that glenbarth still disliked him, his hostility was so veiled as to be scarcely noticeable. towards the end of the evening a note was brought to me. one glance at the handwriting upon the envelope was sufficient to show me that it was from nikola. it ran as follows-- "my dear hatteras, "remembering your friend don martinos' desire to see my poor palace, i have written to ask him if he will dine with me to-morrow evening at eight o'clock. if i can persuade you and the duke of glenbarth to give me the pleasure of your society, i need scarcely say that you will be adding to my delight. "sincerely yours, "nikola." "you have not of course received your letter yet," i said, addressing the don. "what do you say to the invitation?" "i shall accept it only too willingly," he answered without delay. "provided, of course, you will go too." "have you any objection to raise, duke?" i asked, addressing glenbarth. i could see that he was not very anxious to go, but under the circumstances he could not very well refuse. "i shall be very happy," he answered. and for once in his life he deliberately said what he knew to be untrue. chapter vii "you surely are not going to dine with doctor nikola in that strange house?" said my wife, when we were alone together that night. "after what the duke has told us, i wonder that you can be so foolish." "my dear girl," i answered, "i don't see the force of your argument. i shan't be the first who has eaten a meal in the house in question, and i don't suppose i shall be the last. what do you think will happen to me? do you think that we have returned to the times of the borgias, and that nikola will poison us? no, i am looking forward to a very enjoyable and instructive evening." "while we are sitting at home, wondering if the table is disappearing bodily into the vaults and taking you with it, or whether nikola is charging the side-dishes with some of his abominable chemistry, by which you will be put to sleep for three months, or otherwise experimenting upon you in the interests of what he calls science. i don't think it is at all kind of you to go." "dear girl," i answered, "are you not a little unreasonable? knowing that de martinos has but lately arrived in venice, also that he is a friend of ours--for did he not meet him when in our company?--it is only natural that nikola should desire to show him some courtesy. in spite of its decay, the palace revecce is an exceedingly beautiful building, and when he heard that martinos would like to visit it, he invited him to dinner. what could be more natural? this is the nineteenth century!" "i am sure i don't mind what century it is," she replied. "still i adhere to what i said just now. i am sorry you are going." "in that case i am sorry also," i answered, "but as the matter stands i fail to see how i can get out of it. i could not let the duke and martinos go alone, so what can i do?" "i suppose you will have to go," she replied ruefully. "i have a presentiment, however, that trouble will result from it." with that the subject was dropped, and it was not until the following morning, when i was smoking with glenbarth after breakfast, that it cropped up again. "look here, dick," said my companion then. "what about this dinner at nikola's house to-night? you seemed to be very keen on going last night; are you of the same mind this morning?" "why not?" i answered. "my wife does not like the notion, but i am looking forward to seeing nikola play the host. the last time i dined with him, you must remember, was in port said, and then the banquet could scarcely be described as a pleasant one. what is more, i am anxious to see what effect nikola and his house will produce upon our friend the don." "i wish he'd get rid of him altogether," my companion replied. "i dislike the fellow more and more every time i see him." "why should you? he does you no harm!" "it's not that," said glenbarth. "my dislike to him is instinctive; just as one shudders when one looks into the face of a snake, or as one is repelled by a toad or a rat. in spite of his present apparent respectability, i should not be at all surprised to hear that at some period of his career he had committed murders innumerable." "nonsense, nonsense," i replied, "you must not imagine such things as that. you were jealous when you first saw him, because you thought he was going to come between you and miss trevor. you have never been able to overcome the feeling, and this continued dislike is the result. you must fight against it. doubtless, when you have seen more of him, you will like him better." "i shall never like him better than i do now," he answered, with conviction. "as they say in the plays, 'my gorge rises at him!' if you saw him in the light i do, you would not let lady hatteras----" "my dear fellow," i began, rising from my chair and interrupting him, "this is theatrical and very ridiculous, and i assume the right of an old friend to tell you so. if you prefer not to go to-night, i'll make some excuse for you, but don't, for goodness' sake, go and make things unpleasant for us all while you're there." "i have no desire to do so," he replied stiffly. "what is more, i am not going to let you go alone. write your letter and accept for us both. bother nikola and martinos as well, i wish they were both on the other side of the world." i thereupon wrote a note to nikola accepting, on glenbarth's behalf and my own, his invitation to dinner for that evening. then i dismissed the matter from my mind for the time being. an hour or so later my wife came to me with a serious face. "i am afraid, dick, that there is something the matter with gertrude," she said. "she has gone to her room to lie down, complaining of a very bad headache and a numbness in all her limbs. i have done what i can for her, but if she does not get better by lunch-time, i think i shall send for a doctor." as, by lunch-time, she was no better, the services of an english doctor were called in. his report to my wife was certainly a puzzling one. he declared he could discover nothing the matter with the girl, nor anything to account for the mysterious symptoms. "is she usually of an excitable disposition?" he inquired, when we discussed the matter together in the drawing-room. "not in the least," i replied. "i should say she is what might be called a very evenly-dispositioned woman." he asked one or two other questions and then took leave of us, promising to call again next day. "i cannot understand it at all," said my wife when he had gone; "gertrude seemed so well last night. now she lies upon her bed and complains of this continued pain in her head and the numbness in all her limbs. her hands and feet are as cold as ice, and her face is as white as a sheet of note-paper." during the afternoon miss trevor determined to get up, only to be compelled to return to bed again. her headache had left her, but the strange numbness still remained. she seemed incapable, so my wife informed me, of using her limbs. the effect upon the duke may be better imagined than described. his face was the picture of desolation, and his anxiety was all the greater inasmuch as he was precluded from giving vent to it in speech. i am afraid that, at this period of his life, the young gentleman's temper was by no means as placid as we were accustomed to consider it. he was given to flaring up without the slightest warning, and to looking upon himself and his own little world in a light that was very far removed from cheerful. realizing that we could do no good at home, i took him out in the afternoon, and was given to understand that i was quite without heart, because, when we had been an hour abroad, i refused to return to the hotel. "i wonder if there is anything that miss trevor would like," he said, as we crossed the piazza of saint mark. "it could be sent up to her, you know, in your name." "you might send her some flowers," i answered. "you could then send them from yourself." "by jove, that's the very thing. you do have some good ideas sometimes." "thank you," i said quietly. "approbation from sir hubert stanley is praise indeed." "bother your silly quotations!" he retorted. "let's get back to that flower-shop." we did so, and thereupon that reckless youth spent upon flowers what would have kept me in cigars for a month. having paid for them and given orders that they should be sent to the hotel galaghetti at once, we left the shop. when we stood outside, i had to answer all sorts of questions as to whether i thought she would like them, whether it would not have been better to have chosen more of one sort than another, and whether the scent would not be too strong for a sick-room. after that he felt doubtful whether the shopkeeper would send them in time, and felt half inclined to return in order to impress this fact upon the man. let it be counted to me for righteousness that i bore with him patiently, remembering my own feeling at a similar stage in my career. when we reached the hotel on our return, we discovered that the patient was somewhat better. she had had a short sleep, and it had refreshed her. my wife was going to sit with her during the evening, and knowing this, i felt that we might go out with clear consciences. at a quarter to seven we retired to our rooms to dress, and at a quarter past the hour were ready to start. when we reached the hall, we found the don awaiting us there. he was dressed with the greatest care, and presented a not unhandsome figure. he shook hands cordially with me and bowed to glenbarth, who had made no sign of offering him his hand. previous to setting out, i had extorted from that young man his promise that he would behave with courtesy towards the other during the evening. "you can't expect me to treat the fellow as a friend," he had said in reply, "but i will give you my word that i'll be civil to him--if that's what you want." and with this assurance i was perforce compelled to be content. having taken our places in the gondola which was waiting for us, we set off. "i had the pleasure of seeing doctor nikola this morning," said martinos, as we turned into the rio del consiglio. "he did me the honour of calling upon me." i gave a start of surprise on hearing this. "indeed," i replied. "and at what hour was that?" "exactly at eleven o'clock," the don answered. "i remember the time because i was in the act of going out, and we encountered each other in the hall." now it is a singular thing, a coincidence if you like, but it was almost on the stroke of eleven that miss trevor had been seized with her mysterious illness. at a quarter past the hour she felt so poorly as to be compelled to retire to her room. of course there could be no connection between the two affairs, but it was certainly a coincidence of a nature calculated to afford me ample food for reflection. a few moments later the gondola drew up at the steps of the palace revecce. almost at the same instant the door opened and we entered the house. the courtyard had been lighted in preparation for our coming, and, following the man who had admitted us, we ascended the stone staircase to the corridor above. though not so dismal as when i had last seen it, lighted only by nikola's lantern, it was still sufficiently awesome to create a decided impression upon the don. "you were certainly not wrong when you described it as a lonely building," he said, as we passed along the corridor to nikola's room. as he said this the door opened, and nikola stood before us. he shook hands with the duke first, afterwards with the don, and then with myself. "let me offer you a hearty welcome," he began. "pray enter." we followed him into the room i have already described, and the door was closed behind us. it was in this apartment that i had expected we should dine, but i discovered that this was not to be the case. the tables were still littered with papers, books, and scientific apparatus, just as when i had last seen it. glenbarth seated himself in a chair by the window, but i noticed that his eyes wandered continually to the oriental rug upon the floor by the fireplace. he was doubtless thinking of the vaults below, and, as i could easily imagine, wishing himself anywhere else than where he was. the black cat, apollyon, which was curled up in an arm-chair, regarded us for a few seconds with attentive eyes, as if to make sure of our identities, and then returned to his slumbers. the windows were open, i remember, and the moon was just rising above the house-tops opposite. i had just gone to the casement, and was looking down upon the still waters below, when the tapestry of the wall on the right hand was drawn aside by the man who had admitted us to the house, who informed nikola in italian that dinner was upon the table. "in that case let us go in to it," said our host. "perhaps your grace will be kind enough to lead the way." glenbarth did as he was requested, and we followed him, to find ourselves in a large, handsome apartment, which had once been richly frescoed, but was now, like the rest of the palace, sadly fallen to decay. in the centre of the room was a small oval table, well illuminated by a silver lamp, which diffused a soft light upon the board, the remainder of the room being in heavy shadow. the decorations, the napery, and the glass and silver, were, as i could see at one glance, unique. three men-servants awaited our coming, though where they hailed from and how nikola had induced them to enter the palace, i could not understand. nikola, as our host, occupied one end of the table; glenbarth, being the principal guest of the evening, was given the chair on his left; the don took that on the right, while i faced him at the further end. how, or by whom, the dinner was cooked was another mystery. nikola had told us on the occasion of our first visit, that he possessed no servants, and that such cooking as he required was done for him by an old man who came in once every day. yet the dinner he gave us on this particular occasion was worthy of the finest _chef_ in europe. it was perfect in every particular. though nikola scarcely touched anything, he did the honours of his table royally, and with a grace that was quite in keeping with the situation. had my wife and miss trevor been present, they might, for all the terrors they had anticipated for us, very well have imagined themselves in the dining-room of some old english country mansion, waited upon by the family butler, and taken in to dinner by the bishop and rural dean. the nikola i had seen when i had last visited the house was as distant from our present host as if he had never existed. when i looked at him, i could scarcely believe that he had ever been anything else but the most delightful man of my acquaintance. "as a great traveller, don josè," he said, addressing the guest on his right hand, "you have of course dined in a great number of countries, and i expect under a variety of startling circumstances. now tell me, what is your most pleasant recollection of a meal?" "that which i managed to obtain after the fall of valparaiso," said martinos. "we had been without food for two days, that is to say, without a decent meal, when i chanced upon a house where breakfast had been abandoned without being touched. i can see it now. ye gods! it was delightful. and not the less so because the old rascal we were after had managed to make his escape." "you were in opposition to balmaceda, then?" said nikola quietly. martinos paused for a moment before he answered. "yes, against balmaceda," he replied. "i wonder whether the old villain really died, and if so what became of his money." "that is a question one would like to have settled concerning a good many people," glenbarth put in. "there was that man up in the central states, the republic of--ah! what was its name?--equinata," said nikola. "i don't know whether you remember the story." "do you mean the fellow who shot those unfortunate young men?" i asked. "the man you were telling me of the other night." "the same," nikola replied. "well, he managed to fly his country, taking with him something like two million dollars. from that moment he has never been heard of, and as a matter of fact i do not suppose he ever will be. after all, luck has a great deal to do with things in this world." "permit me to pour out a libation to the god of chance," said martinos. "he has served me well." "i think we can all subscribe to that," said nikola. "you, sir richard, would not be the happy man you are had it not been for a stroke of good fortune which shipwrecked you on one island in the pacific instead of another. you, my dear duke, would certainly have been drowned in bournemouth bay had not our friend hatteras chanced to be an early riser, and to have taken a certain cruise before breakfast; while you, don martinos, would in all probability not be my guest to-night had not----" the spaniard looked sharply at him as if he feared what he was about to hear. "had not what happened?" he asked. "had president balmaceda won his day," was the quiet reply. "he did not do so, however, and so we four sit here to-night. certainly, a libation to the god of chance." at last the dinner came to an end, and the servants withdrew, having placed the wine upon the table. the conversation drifted from one subject to another until it reached the history of the palace in which we were then the guests. for the spaniard's information nikola related it in detail. he did not lay any particular emphasis upon it, however, as he had done upon the story he had told the duke and myself concerning the room in which he had received us. he merely narrated it in a matter-of-fact way, as if it were one in which he was only remotely interested. yet i could not help thinking that he fixed his eyes more keenly than usual on the spaniard, who sat sipping his wine and listening with an expression of polite attention upon his sallow face. when the wine had been circulated for the last time, nikola suggested that we should leave the dining-room and return to his own sitting-room. "i do not feel at home in this room," he said by way of explanation; "for that reason i never use it. i usually partake of such food as i need in the next, and allow the rest of the house to fall undisturbed into that decay which you see about you." with that we rose from the table and returned to the room in which he had received us. a box of cigars was produced and handed round; nikola made coffee with his own hands at a table in the corner, and then i awaited the further developments that i knew would come. presently nikola began to speak of the history of venice. as i had already had good reason to know, he had made a perfect study of it, particularly of the part played in it by the revecce family. he dealt with particular emphasis upon the betrayal through the lion's mouth, and then, with an apology to glenbarth and myself for boring us with it again, referred to the tragedy of the vaults below the room in which we were then seated. once more he drew back the carpet and the murderous trap-door opened. a cold draught, suggestive of unspeakable horrors, came up to us. "and there the starving wretch died with the moans of the woman he loved sounding in his ears from the room above," said nikola. "does it not seem that you can hear them now? for my part, i think they will echo through all eternity." if he had been an actor what a wonderful tragedian he would have made! as he stood before us pointing down into the abyss he held us spell-bound. as for martinos, all the accumulated superstition of the centuries seemed to be concentrated in him, and he watched nikola's face as if he were fascinated beyond the power of movement. "come," nikola began at last, closing the trap-door and placing the rug upon it as he spoke, "you have heard the history of the house. you shall now do more than that! you shall see it!" fixing his eyes upon us he made two or three passes in the air with his long white hands. meanwhile, it seemed to me as if he were looking into my brain. i tried to avert my eyes, but without success. they were chained to his face, and i could not remove them. then an overwhelming feeling of drowsiness took possession of me, and i must have lost consciousness, for i have no recollection of anything until i found myself in a place i thought for a moment i had never seen before. and yet after a time i recognized it. it was a bright day in the early spring, the fresh breeze coming over the islands from the open sea was rippling the water of the lagoons. i looked at my surroundings. i was in venice, and yet it was not the venice with which i was familiar. i was standing with nikola upon the steps of a house, the building of which was well-nigh completed. it was a magnificent edifice, and i could easily understand the pride of the owner as he stood in his gondola and surveyed it from the stretch of open water opposite. he was a tall and handsome man, and wore a doublet and hose, shoes with large bows, and a cloak trimmed with fur. there was also a chain of gold suspended round his neck. beside him was a man whom i rightly guessed to be the architect, for presently the taller man placed his hand upon his shoulder and praised him for the work he had done, vowing that it was admirable. then, at a signal, the gondolier gave a stroke of his oar and the little vessel shot across to the steps, where they landed close to where i was standing. i stepped back in order that they might pass, but they took no sort of notice of my presence. passing on, they entered the house. "they do not see us," said nikola, who was beside me. "let us enter and hear what the famous admiral francesco del revecce thinks of his property." we accordingly did so to find ourselves in a magnificent courtyard. in the centre of this courtyard was a well, upon which a carver in stone was putting the finishing touches to a design of leaves and fruit. from here led a staircase, and this we ascended. in the different rooms artists were to be observed at work upon the walls, depicting sea-fights, episodes in the history of the republic, and of the famous master of the house. before each the owner paused, bestowing approval, giving advice, or suggesting such alteration or improvement as he considered needful. in his company we visited the kitchens, the pantler's offices, and penetrated even to the dungeons below the water-level. then we once more ascended to the courtyard, and stood at the great doors while the owner took his departure in his barge, pleased beyond measure with his new abode. then the scene changed. once more i stood before the house with nikola. it was night, but it was not dark, for great cressets flared on either side of the door, and a hundred torches helped to illuminate the scene. all the great world of venice was making its way to the palace revecce that night. the first of the series of gorgeous _fêtes_ given to celebrate the nuptials of francesco del revecce, the most famous sailor of the republic, who had twice defeated the french fleet, and who had that day married the daughter of the duke of levano, was in progress. the bridegroom was still comparatively young, he was also rich and powerful; the bride was one of the greatest heiresses of venice, besides being one of its fairest daughters. their new home was as beautiful as money and the taste of the period could make it. small wonder was it, therefore, that the world hastened to pay court to them. "let us once more enter and look about us," said nikola. "one moment," i answered, drawing him back a step as he was in the act of coming into collision with a beautiful girl who had just disembarked from her gondola upon the arm of a grey-haired man. "you need have no fear," he replied. "you forget that we are spirits in a spirit world, and that they are not conscious of our presence." and indeed this appeared to be the case, for no one recognized us, and more than once i saw people approach nikola, and, scarcely believable though it may seem, walk through him without being the least aware of the fact. on this occasion the great courtyard was brilliantly illuminated. scores of beautiful figures were ascending the stairs continually, while strains of music sounded from the rooms above. "let us ascend," said nikola, "and see the pageant there." it was indeed a sumptuous entertainment, and when we entered the great reception-rooms, no fairer scene could have been witnessed in venice. i looked upon the bridegroom and his bride, and recognized the former as being the man i had seen praising the architect on the skill he had displayed in the building of the palace. he was more bravely attired now, however, than on that occasion, and did the honours of his house with the ease and assurance of one accustomed to uphold the dignity of his name and position in the world. his bride was a beautiful girl, with a pale, sweet face, and eyes that haunted one long after they had looked at them. she was doing her best to appear happy before her guests, but in my own heart i knew that such was not the case. knowing what was before her, i realized something of the misery that was weighing so heavily upon her heart. surrounding her were the proudest citizens of the proudest republic of all time. there was not one who did not do her honour, and among the women who were her guests that night, how many were there who envied her good fortune? then the scene once more changed. this time the room was that with which i was best acquainted, the same in which nikola had taken up his abode. the frescoes upon the walls and ceilings were barely dry, and revecce was at sea again, opposing his old enemy the french, who once more threatened an attack upon the city. it was towards evening, and the red glow of the sunset shone upon a woman's face, as she stood beside the table at which a man was writing. i at once recognized her as revecce's bride. the man himself was young and handsome, and when he looked up at the woman and smiled, the love-light shone in her eyes, as it had not done when she had looked upon revecce. there was no need for nikola to tell me that he was andrea bunopelli, the artist to whose skill the room owed its paintings. "art thou sure 'twill be safe, love?" asked the woman in a low voice, as she placed her hand upon his shoulder. "remember 'tis death to bring a false accusation against a citizen of the republic, and 'twill be worse when 'tis against the great revecce." "i have borne that in mind," the man answered. "but there is nought to fear, dear love. the writing will not be suspected, and i will drop it in the lion's mouth myself,--and then?" her only answer was to bend over him and kiss him. he scattered the sand upon the letter he had written, and when it was dry, folded it up and placed it in his bosom. then he kissed the woman once more and prepared to leave the room. the whole scene was so real that i could have sworn that he saw me as i stood watching him. "do not linger," she said in farewell. "i shall know no peace till you return." drawing aside the curtain he disappeared, and then once more the scene changed. a cold wind blew across the lagoon, and there was a suspicion of coming thunder in the air. a haggard, ragged tatterdemalion was standing on the steps of a small door of the palace. presently it was opened to him by an ancient servant, who asked his business, and would have driven him away. when he had whispered something to him, however, the other realized that it was his master, whom he thought to be a prisoner in the hands of the french. then, amazed beyond measure, the man admitted him. having before me the discovery he was about to make, i looked at him with pity, and when he stumbled and almost fell, i hastened forward to pick him up, but only clasped air. at last, when his servant had told him everything, he followed him to a distant portion of the palace, where he was destined to remain hidden for some days, taking advantage of the many secret passages the palace contained, and by so doing confirming his suspicions. his wife was unfaithful to him, and the man who had wrought his dishonour was the man to whom he had been so kind and generous a benefactor. i seemed to crouch by his side time after time in the narrow passage behind the arras, watching through a secret opening the love-making going on within. i could see the figure beside me quiver with rage and hate, until i thought he would burst in upon them, and then the old servant would lead him away, his finger upon his lips. how many times i stood with him there i cannot say, it is sufficient that at last he could bear the pain no longer, and, throwing open the secret door, entered the room and confronted the man and woman. as i write, i can recall the trembling figures of the guilty pair, and the woman's shriek rings in my ears even now. i can see bunopelli rising from the table, at which he had been seated, with the death-look in his face. within an hour the confession of the crime they had perpetrated against revecce had been written and signed, and they were separated and made secure until the time for punishment should arrive. then, for the first time since he had arrived in venice, he ordered his barge and set off for the council chamber to look his accusers in the face and to demand the right to punish those who had betrayed him. [illustration: "throwing open the secret door ... he confronted them."] when he returned his face was grim and set, and there was a look in his eyes that had not been there before. he ascended to the room in which there was the trap-door in the floor, and presently the wretched couple were brought before him. in vain bunopelli pleaded for mercy for the woman. there was no mercy to be obtained there. i would have pleaded for them too, but i was powerless to make myself heard. i saw the great beads of perspiration that stood upon the man's brow, the look of agonizing entreaty in the woman's face, and the relentless decision on her husband's countenance. nothing could save them now. the man was torn, crying to the last for mercy for her, from the woman's side, the trap-door gave a click, and he disappeared. then they laid hands upon the woman, and i saw them force open her mouth--but i cannot set down the rest. my tongue clove to the roof of my mouth, and though i rushed forward in the hope of preventing their horrible task, my efforts were as useless as before. then, with the pitiless smile still upon the husband's face, and the moans ascending from the vault below, and the woman with.... the scene changed. when i saw it again a stream of bright sunshine was flooding the room. it was still the same apartment, and yet in a sense not the same. the frescoes were faded upon the walls, there was a vast difference in the shape and make of the furniture, and in certain other things, but it was nevertheless the room in which francesco del revecce had taken his terrible revenge. a tall and beautiful woman, some thirty years of age, was standing beside the window holding a letter in her hand. she had finished the perusal of it and was lingering with it in her hand, looking lovingly upon the signature. at last she raised it to her lips and kissed it passionately. then, crossing to a cradle at the further end of the room, she knelt beside it and looked down at the child it contained. she had bent her head in prayer, and was still praying, when with a start i awoke to find myself sitting beside glenbarth and the don in the room in which we had been smoking after dinner. nikola was standing before the fireplace, and there was a look like that of death upon his face. it was not until afterwards that the spaniard and glenbarth informed me that they had witnessed exactly what i had seen. both, however, were at a loss to understand the meaning of the last picture, and, having my own thoughts in my mind, i was not to be tempted into explaining it to them. that it was nikola's own mother, and that this house was her property, and the same in which the infamous governor of the spanish colony had made his love known to her, i could now see. and if anything were wanting to confirm my suspicions, nikola's face, when my senses returned to me, was sufficient to do so. "let me get out of this house," cried the duke thickly. "i cannot breathe while i am in it. take me away, hatteras; for god's sake take me away!" i had already risen to my feet and had hastened to his side. "i think it would be better that we should be going, doctor nikola," i said, turning to our host. the spaniard, on his side, did not utter a word. he was so dazed as to be beyond the power of speech. but nikola did not seem to comprehend what i said. never before had i seen such a look upon his face. his complexion was always white, now, however, it was scarcely human. for my own part i knew what was passing in his mind, but i could give no utterance to it. "come," i said to my companions, "let us return to our hotel." they rose and began to move mechanically towards the door. the duke had scarcely reached it, however, before nikola, with what i could see was a violent effort, recovered his self-possession. "you must forgive me," he said in almost his usual voice. "i had for the moment forgotten my duties as host. i fear you have had but a poor evening." when we had donned our hats and cloaks, we accompanied him down-stairs through the house, which was now as silent as the grave, to the great doors upon the steps. having hailed a gondola we entered it, after wishing nikola "good-night." he shook hands with glenbarth and myself, but i noticed that he did not offer to do so with the don. then we shot out into the middle of the canal and had presently turned the corner and were making our way towards our hotel. i am perfectly certain that during the journey not one of us spoke. the events of the evening had proved too much for us, and conversation was impossible. we bade martinos "good-night" in the hall, and then the duke and i ascended to our own apartments. spirits had been placed upon the table, and i noticed that the duke helped himself to almost twice his usual quantity. he looked as if he needed it. "my god, dick," he said, "did you see what happened in that room? did you see that woman kneeling with the----" he put down his glass hurriedly and walked to the window. i could sympathize with him, for had i not seen the same thing myself? "it's certain, dick," he said, when he returned a few moments later, "that, were i to see much more of nikola in that house, i should go mad. but why did he let me see it? why? why? for heaven's sake answer me." how could i tell him the thought that was in my own mind? how could i reveal to him the awful fear that was slowly but surely taking possession of me? why had nikola invited the don to his house? why had he shown him the picture of that terrible crime? like glenbarth i could only ask the same question--why? why? why? chapter viii before glenbarth and i parted on the terrible evening described in the previous chapter, we had made a contract with each other to say nothing about what we had seen to the ladies. for this reason, when my wife endeavoured to interrogate me concerning our entertainment, i furnished her with an elaborate description of the dinner itself; spoke of the marvellous cooking, and i hope gave her a fairly accurate account of the _menu_, or rather so much of it as i could remember. "i suppose i must confess to defeat then," she said, when i had exhausted my powers of narration. "i had a settled conviction that something out of the common would have occurred. you seem simply to have had a good dinner, to have smoked some excellent cigars, and the rest to have been bounded merely by the commonplace. for once i fear doctor nikola has not acted up to his reputation." if she had known the truth, i wonder what she would have said? long after she had bade me good-night i lay awake ruminating on the different events of the evening. the memory of what i had seen in that awful room was still as fresh with me as if i were still watching it. and yet, i asked myself, why should i worry so much about it? nikola had willed that his audience should see certain things. we had done so. it was no more concerned with the supernatural than i was myself. any man who had the power could have impressed us in the same way. but though i told myself all this, i must confess that i was by no means convinced. i knew in my heart that the whole thing had been too real to be merely a matter of make-believe. no human brain could have invented the ghastly horrors of that room in such complete detail. even to think of it now, is to bring the scene almost too vividly before me; and when i lay awake at night i seem to hear the shrieks of the wretched woman, and the moans of the man perishing in the vaults below. on my retiring to rest my wife had informed me that she fancied miss trevor had been slightly better that evening. she had slept peacefully for upwards of an hour, and seemed much refreshed by it. "her maid is going to spend the night in her room," said phyllis; "i have told her that, if she sees any change in gertrude's condition, she is to let me know at once. i do hope that she may be herself again to-morrow." this, however, was unhappily not destined to be the case; for a little before three o'clock, there was a tapping upon our bedroom door. guessing who it would be, my wife went to it, and, having opened it a little, was informed that miss trevor was worse. "i must go to her at once," said phyllis, and, having clothed herself warmly, for the night was cold, she departed to our guest's room. "i am really afraid that there is something very serious the matter with her," she said, when she returned after about a quarter of an hour's absence. "she is in a high state of fever, and is inclined to be delirious. don't you think we had better send for the doctor?" "i will have a messenger despatched to him at once if you think it necessary," i returned. "poor girl, i wonder what on earth it can be?" "perhaps the doctor will be able to tell us now," said my wife. "the symptoms are more fully developed, and he should surely be able to make his diagnosis. but i must not stay here talking. i must go back to her." when she had departed, i dressed myself and went down to the hall in search of the night watchman. he undertook to find a messenger to go and fetch the doctor, and, when i had seen him despatched on his errand, i returned to the drawing-room, switched on the electric light, and tried to interest myself in a book until the medico should arrive. i was not very successful, however, for interesting though i was given to understand the book was, i found my thoughts continually leaving it and returning to the house in the rio del consiglio. i wondered what nikola was doing at that moment, and fancied i could picture him still at work, late though the hour was. at last, tiring of the book and wanting something else to occupy my thoughts, i went to the window and drew back the shutters. it was a beautiful morning, and the myriad stars overhead were reflected in the black waters of the canal like the lamps of a large town. not a sound was to be heard; it might have been a city of the dead, so still was it. as i stood looking across the water, i thought of the city's past history, of her ancient grandeur, of her wondrous art, and of the great men who had been her children. there was a tremendous lesson to be learnt from her fall if one could only master it. i was interrupted in my reverie by the entrance of the doctor, whom i had told the night watchman to conduct to my presence immediately upon his arrival. "i am sorry to bring you out at this time of the night, doctor," i said; "but the fact is, miss trevor is much worse. my wife spent the greater part of the evening with her, and informed me on my return from a dinner that she was better. three-quarters of an hour ago, however, her maid, who had been sleeping in her room, came to us with the news that a change for the worse had set in. this being the case, i thought it better to send for you at once." "you did quite right, my dear sir, quite right," the medico replied. "there is nothing like promptness in these matters. perhaps i had better see her without further delay." with that i conducted him to the door of miss trevor's room. he knocked upon it, was admitted by my wife, and then disappeared from my gaze. something like half-an-hour elapsed before he returned to me in the drawing-room. when he did so his face looked grave and troubled. "what do you think of her condition now, doctor?" i asked. "she is certainly in a state of high fever," he answered. "her pulse is very high, and she is inclined to be delirious. at the same time i am bound to confess to you that i am at a loss to understand the reason of it. the case puzzled me considerably yesterday, but i am even more puzzled by it now. there are various symptoms that i can neither account for nor explain. one thing, however, is quite certain--the young lady must have a trained nurse, and, with your permission, i will see that one comes in after breakfast. lady hatteras is not strong enough for the task." "i am quite with you there," i answered. "and i am vastly obliged to you for putting your foot down. at the same time, will you tell me whether you deem it necessary for me to summon her father from england?" "so far as i can see at present, i do not think there is any immediate need," he replied. "should i see any reason for so doing, i would at once tell you. i have given a prescription to lady hatteras, and furnished her with the name of a reliable chemist. i shall return between nine and ten o'clock, and shall hope to have better news for you then." "i sincerely trust you may," i said. "as you may suppose, her illness has been a great shock to us." i then escorted him down-stairs and afterwards returned to my bedroom. the news which he had given me of miss trevor's condition was most distressing, and made me feel more anxious than i cared to admit. at seven o'clock i saw my wife for a few minutes, but, as before, she had no good news to give me. "she is quite delirious now," she said, "and talks continually of some great trouble which she fears is going to befall her; implores me to help her to escape from it, but will not say definitely what it is. it goes to my heart to hear her, and to know that i cannot comfort her." "you must be careful what you are doing," i replied. "the doctor has promised to bring a trained nurse with him after breakfast, who will relieve you of the responsibility. i inquired whether he thought we had better send for her father, and it is in a way encouraging to know that, so far, he does not think there is any necessity for such an extreme step. in the meantime, however, i think i will write to the dean and tell him how matters stand. it will prepare him, but i am afraid it will give the poor old gentleman a sad fright." "it could not give him a greater fright than it has done us," said phyllis. "i do not know why i should do so, but i cannot help thinking that i am to blame in some way." "what nonsense, my dear girl," i replied. "i am sure you have nothing whatsoever to reproach yourself with. far from it. you must not worry yourself about it, or we shall be having you upon our hands before long. you must remember that you are yourself far from strong." "i am quite myself again now," she answered. "it is only on account of your anxiety that i treat myself as an invalid." then she added, "i wonder what the duke will say when he hears the news?" "he was very nearly off his head yesterday," i answered. "he will be neither to hold nor to bind to-day." she was silent for a few moments, then she said thoughtfully-- "do you know, dick, it may seem strange to you, but i do not mind saying that i attribute all this trouble to nikola." "good gracious," i cried, in well-simulated amazement, "why on earth to nikola?" "because, as was the case five years ago, it has been all trouble since we met him. you remember how he affected gertrude at the outset. she was far from being herself on the night of our tour through the city, and now in her delirium she talks continually of his dreadful house, and from what she says, and the way she behaves, i cannot help feeling inclined to believe that she imagines herself to be seeing some of the dreadful events which have occurred or are occurring in it." "god help her," i said to myself. and then i continued aloud to my wife, "doubtless nikola's extraordinary personality has affected her in some measure, as it does other people, but you are surely not going to jump to the conclusion that because she has spoken to him he is necessarily responsible for her illness? that would be the wildest flight of fancy." "and yet, do you know," she continued, "i have made a curious discovery." "what is that?" i asked, not without some asperity, for, having so much on my mind, i was not in the humour for fresh discoveries. she paused for a moment before she replied. doubtless she expected that i would receive it with scepticism, if not with laughter; and phyllis, ever since i have known her, has a distinct fear of ridicule. "you may laugh at me if you please," she said, "yet the coincidence is too extraordinary to be left unnoticed. do you happen to be aware, dick, that doctor nikola called at this hotel at exactly eleven o'clock?" i almost betrayed myself in my surprise. this was the last question i expected her to put to me. "yes," i answered, with an endeavour to appear calm, "i do happen to be aware of that fact. he merely paid a visit of courtesy to the don, prior to the other's accepting his hospitality. i see nothing remarkable in that. i did the same myself, if you remember." "of course i know that," she replied, "but there is more to come. are you also aware that it was at the very moment of his arrival in the house that gertrude was taken ill? what do you think of that?" she put this question to me with an air of triumph, as if it were one that no argument on my part could refute. at any rate, i did not attempt the task. "i think nothing of it," i replied. "you may remember that you once fell down in a dead faint within a few minutes of the vicar's arrival at our house at home. would you therefore have me suppose that it was on account of his arrival that you were taken ill? why should you attribute miss trevor's illness to nikola's courtesy to our friend the don?" "i beg that you will not call him our friend," said phyllis with considerable dignity. "i do not like the man." i did not tell her that the duke was equally outspoken concerning our companion. i could see that they would put their heads together, and that trouble would be the inevitable result. like a wise husband i held my peace, knowing that whatever i might say would not better the situation. half-an-hour later it was my unhappy lot to have to inform glenbarth of miss trevor's condition. "i told you yesterday that it was a matter not to be trifled with," he said, as if i were personally responsible for her grave condition. "the doctor evidently doesn't understand the case, and what you ought to do, if you have any regard for her life, is to send a telegram at once to london, ordering competent advice." "the dean of bedminster has a salary of eight hundred pounds per annum," i answered quietly. "such a man as you would want me to send for would require a fee of some hundreds of guineas to make such a journey." "and you would allow her to die for the sake of a few paltry pounds?" he cried. "good heavens, dick, i never thought you were a money-grabber." "i am glad you did not," i answered. "it is of her father i am thinking. besides, i do not know that the doctor here is as ignorant as you say. he has a most complicated and unusual case to deal with, and i honour him for admitting the fact that he does not understand it. many men in his profession would have thrown dust in our eyes, and have pretended to a perfect knowledge of the case." the young man did not see it in the same light as i did, and was plainly of the opinion that we were not doing what we might for the woman he loved. my wife, however, took him in hand after breakfast, and talked quietly but firmly to him. she succeeded where i had failed, and when i returned from an excursion to the chemist's, where i had the prescriptions made up, i found him in a tolerably reasonable frame of mind. at a quarter to ten the doctor put in an appearance once more, and, after a careful inspection of his patient, informed me that it was his opinion that a consultant should be called in. this was done, and to our dismay the result came no nearer elucidating the mystery than before. the case was such a one as had never entered into the experience of either man. to all intents and purposes there was nothing that would in any way account for the patient's condition. the fever had left her, and she complained of no pain, while her mind, save for occasional relapses, was clear enough. they were certain it was not a case of paralysis, yet she was incapable of moving, or of doing anything to help herself. the duration of her illness was not sufficient to justify her extreme weakness, nor to account for the presence of certain other symptoms. there was nothing for it, therefore, but for us to possess our souls in patience and to wait the turn of events. when the doctors had departed i went in search of glenbarth, and gave him their report. the poor fellow was far from being consoled by it. he had hoped to receive good news, and their inability to give a satisfactory decision only confirmed his belief in their incompetency. had i permitted him to do so, he would have telegraphed at once for the best medical advice in europe, and would have expended half his own princely revenues in an attempt to make her herself once more. it was difficult to convince him that he had not the right to heap liabilities on the old gentleman's shoulder, which, in honour bound, he would feel he must repay. i will not bore my readers with the abusive arguments against society, and social etiquette, with which he favoured me in reply to my speech. the poor fellow was beside himself with anxiety, and it was difficult to make him understand that, because he had not placed a narrow band of gold upon a certain pretty finger, he was debarred from saving the life of the owner of that self-same finger. towards nightfall it was certain that miss trevor's condition was gradually going from bad to worse. with the closing of the day the delirium had returned, and the fever had also come with it. we spent a wretchedly anxious night, and in the morning, at the conclusion of his first visit, the doctor informed me that, in his opinion, it would be advisable that i should telegraph to the young lady's father. this was an extreme step, and, needless to say, it caused me great alarm. it was all so sudden that it was scarcely possible to realize the extent of the calamity. only two days before miss trevor had been as well as any of us, and certainly in stronger health than my wife. now she was lying, if not at death's door, at least at no great distance from that grim portal. immediately this sad intelligence was made known to me i hastened to the telegraph-office, and despatched a message to the dean, asking him to come to us with all possible speed. before luncheon i received a reply to the effect that he had already started. then we sat ourselves down to wait and to watch, hoping almost against hope that this beautiful, happy young life might be spared to us. all this time we had seen nothing of the don or of nikola. the former, however, had heard of miss trevor's illness, and sent polite messages as to her condition. i did not tell glenbarth of this, for the young man had sufficient to think of just then without my adding to his worries. i must pass on now to describe to you the arrival of the dean of bedminster in venice. feeling that he would be anxious to question me concerning his daughter's condition, i made a point of going to meet him alone. needless to say he was much agitated on seeing me, and implored me to give him the latest bulletin. "god's will be done," he said quietly, when he had heard all i had to tell him. "i did not receive your letter," he remarked, as we made our way from the station in the direction of galaghetti's hotel, "so that you will understand that i know nothing of the nature of poor gertrude's illness. what does the doctor say is the matter with her?" i then informed him how the case stood, and of the uncertainty felt by the two members of the medical profession i had called in. "surely that is very singular, is it not?" he asked, when i had finished. "there are not many diseases left that they are unable to diagnose." "in this case, however, i fear they are at a loss to assign a name to it," i said. "however, you will be able very soon to see her for yourself, and to draw your own conclusions." the meeting between the worthy old gentleman and his daughter was on his side affecting in the extreme. she did not recognize him, nor did she know my wife. when he joined me in the drawing-room a quarter of an hour or so later his grief was pitiful to witness. while we were talking glenbarth entered, and i introduced them to each other. the dean knew nothing of the latter's infatuation for his daughter, but i fancy, after a time, he must have guessed that there was something in the wind from the other's extraordinary sympathy with him in his trial. as it happened the old gentleman had not arrived any too soon. that afternoon miss trevor was decidedly worse, and the medical men expressed their gravest fears for her safety. all that day and the next we waited in suspense, but there was no material change. nature was fighting her battle stubbornly, inch by inch. the girl did not seem any worse, nor was there any visible improvement. on the doctor's advice a third physician was called in, but with no greater success than before. then on one never-to-be-forgotten afternoon the first doctor took me on one side and informed me that in his opinion, and those of his colleagues, it would not be wise to cherish any further hopes. the patient was undeniably weaker, and was growing more so every hour. with a heart surcharged with sorrow i went to the dean's room and broke the news to him. the poor old man heard me out in silence, and then walked to the window and looked down upon the grand canal. after a while he turned, and coming back to me once more laid his hand upon my arm. "if it is the lord's will that i lose her, what can i do but submit?" he said. "when shall i be allowed to see her?" "i will make inquiries," i answered, and hastened away in search of the doctor. as i passed along the passage i met galaghetti. the little man had been deeply grieved to hear the sad intelligence, and hastened in search of me at once. "m'lord," said he, for do what i would i could never cure him of the habit, "believe me it is not so hopeless, though they say so, if you will but listen to me. there is doctor nikola, your friend! he could cure her if you went to him. did he not cure my child?" i gave a start of surprise. i will confess that the idea had occurred to me, but i had never given the probability of putting it into execution a thought. why should it not be done? galaghetti had reminded me how nikola had cured his child when she lay at the point of death, and the other doctors of venice had given her up. he was so enthusiastic in his praises of the doctor that i felt almost inclined to risk it. when i reached the drawing-room glenbarth hastened towards me. "what news?" he inquired, his anxiety showing itself plainly upon his face. i shook my head. "for god's sake don't trifle with me," he cried. "you can have no idea what i am suffering." feeling that it would be better if i told him everything, i made a clean breast of it. he heard me out before he spoke. "she must not die," he said, with the fierceness of despair. "if there is any power on earth that can be invoked, it shall be brought to bear. can you not think of anything? try! remember that every second is of importance." "would it be safe to try nikola?" i inquired, looking him steadfastly in the face. "galaghetti is wild for me to do so." in spite of his dislike to nikola, glenbarth jumped at the suggestion as a drowning man clutches at a straw. "let us find him at once," he cried, seizing me by the arm. "if any one can save her he is the man. let us go to him without a moment's delay." "no, no," i answered, "that will never do. even in a case of such gravity the proprieties must be observed. i must consult the doctors before calling in another." i regret very much to say that here the duke made use of some language that was neither parliamentary nor courteous to those amiable gentlemen. i sought them out and placed the matter before them. to the idea of calling in a fourth consultant they had not the least objection, though they were all of the opinion that it could do no good. when, however, i mentioned the fact that that consultant's name was nikola, i could plainly see that a storm was rising. "gentlemen," i said, "you must forgive me if i speak plainly and to the point. you have given us to understand that your patient's case is hopeless. now i have had considerable experience of doctor nikola's skill, and i feel that we should not be justified in withholding him from our counsel, if he will consent to be called in. i have no desire to act contrary to medical etiquette, but we must remember that the patient's life comes before aught else." one doctor looked at the other, and all shook their heads. "i fear," said the tallest of them, who invariably acted as spokesman, "that if the services of the gentleman in question are called in, it will be necessary for my colleagues and myself to abandon our interest in the case. i do not of course know how far your knowledge extends, but i hope you will allow me to say, sir, that the most curious stories are circulated both as to the behaviour and the attainments of this doctor nikola." though i knew it to be true, his words nettled me. and yet i had such a deeply-rooted belief in nikola that, although they were determined to give up the case, i felt we should still be equally, if not more, powerful without them. "i sincerely hope, gentlemen," i said, "that you will not do as you propose. nevertheless, i feel that i should not be myself acting rightly if i were to allow your professional prejudices to stand in the way of my friend's recovery." "in that case i fear there is nothing left to us but to most reluctantly withdraw," said one of the men. "you are determined?" "quite determined," they replied together. then the tallest added, "we much regret it, but our decision is irrevocable." ten minutes later they had left the hotel in a huff, and i found myself seated upon the horns of a serious dilemma. what would my position be if nikola's presence should exercise a bad effect upon the patient, or if he should decline to render us assistance? in that case i should have offended the best doctors in venice, and should in all probability have killed her. it was a nice position to be placed in. one thing, however, was as certain as anything could be, and that was the fact that there was no time to lose. my wife was seriously alarmed when i informed her of my decision, but both glenbarth and i felt that we were acting for the best, and the dean sided with us. "since you deem it necessary, go in search of doctor nikola at once," said my wife, when the latter had left us. "implore him to come without delay; in another hour it may be too late." then in a heart-broken whisper she added, "she is growing weaker every moment. oh, dick, heaven grant that we are not acting wrongly, and that he may be able to save her." "i feel convinced that we are doing right," i answered. "and now i will go in search of nikola, and if possible bring him back with me." "god grant you may be successful in your search," said glenbarth, wringing my hand. "if nikola saves her i will do anything he may ask, and still be grateful to him all the days of my life." then i set off upon my errand. chapter ix with a heart as heavy as lead i made my way down-stairs, and having chartered a gondola, bade the man take me to the palace revecce with all possible haste. old galaghetti, who stood upon the steps, nodded vehement approval, and rubbed his hands with delight as he thought of the triumph his great doctor must inevitably achieve. as i left the hotel i looked back at it with a feeling of genuine sorrow. only a few days before our party had all been so happy together, and now one was stricken down with a mysterious malady that, so far as i could see, was likely to end in her death. whether the gondolier had been admonished by galaghetti to make haste, and was anxious to do so in sympathy with my trouble, i cannot say; the fact, however, remains that we accomplished the distance that separated the hotel from the palace in what could have been little more than half the time usually taken. my star was still in the ascendant when we reached the palace, for when i had disembarked at the steps, the old man who did menial service for nikola, had just opened it and looked out. i inquired whether his master was at home, and, if so, whether i could see him? he evidently realized that my italian was of the most rudimentary description, for it was necessary for me to repeat my question three or four times before he could comprehend my meaning. when at last he did so, he pointed up the stairs to signify that nikola _was_ at home, and also that, if i desired to see him, i had better go in search of him. i immediately did so, and hastened up the stairs to the room i have already described, and of which i entertained such ghastly recollections. i knocked upon the door, and a well-known voice bade me in english to "come in." i was in too great a haste to fulfil my mission to observe at the time the significance these words contained. it was not until afterwards that i remembered the fact that, as we approached the palace, i had looked up at nikola's window and had seen no sign of him there. as i had not rung the bell, but had been admitted by the old man-servant, how could he have become aware of my presence? but, as i say, i thought of all that afterwards. for the moment the only desire i had was to inform nikola of my errand. upon my entering the room i found nikola standing before a table on which were glasses, test-tubes, and various chemical paraphernalia. he was engaged in pouring some dark-coloured liquid into a graduating glass, and when he spoke it was without looking round at me. "i am very glad to see you, my dear hatteras," he said. "it is kind of you to take pity on my loneliness. if you don't mind sitting down for a few moments, and lighting a cigar--you'll find the box on the table--i shall have finished this, and then we can talk." "but i am afraid i can't wait," i answered. "i have come on the most important business. there is not a moment to lose." "in that case i am to suppose that miss trevor is worse," he said, putting down the bottle from which he had been pouring, and afterwards replacing the glass stopper with the same hand. "i was afraid it might be so." "how do you know that she is ill?" i asked, not a little surprised to hear that he was aware of our trouble. "i manage to know a good many things," he replied. "i was aware that she was ill, and have been wondering how long it would be before i was called in. the other doctors don't like my interference, i suppose?" "they certainly do not," i answered. "but they have done no good for her." "and you think i may be able to help you?" he inquired, looking at me over the graduating glass with his strange, dark eyes. "i certainly do," i replied. "i am your debtor for the compliment." "and you will come?" "you really wish it?" "i believe it is the only thing that will save her life," i answered. "but you must come quickly, or it will be too late. she was sinking when i left the hotel." with a hand that never shook he poured the contents of the glass into a small phial, and then placed the latter in his pocket. "i am at your disposal now," he answered. "we will set off as soon as you like. as you say, we must lose no time." "but will it not be necessary for you to take some drugs with you?" i asked. "i am taking this one," he replied, placing his hat upon his head as he spoke. i remembered that he had been making his prescription up as i entered the room. had he then intended calling to see her, even supposing i had not come to ask his assistance? i had no chance of putting the question to him, however. "have you a gondola below?" he asked, as we went down the stairs. i replied in the affirmative; and when we gained the hall door we descended the steps and took our places in it. on reaching the hotel i conducted him to the drawing-room, where we found the dean and glenbarth eagerly awaiting our coming. i presented the former to nikola, and then went off to inform my wife of his arrival. she accompanied me back to the drawing-room, and when she entered the room nikola crossed it to receive her. though she looked at him in a frightened way i thought his manner soon put her at her ease. "perhaps you will be kind enough to take me to my patient," he said, when they had greeted each other. "as the case is so serious, i had better lose no time in seeing her." he followed my wife from the room, and then we sat down to await his verdict, with what anxiety you may imagine. [illustration: "he laid his hand upon her forehead."] of all that transpired during his stay with miss trevor i can only speak from hearsay. my wife, however, was unfortunately too agitated to remember everything that occurred. she informed me that on entering the room he advanced very quietly towards the bed, and for a few moments stood looking down at the frail burden it supported. then he felt her pulse, lifted the lids of her eyes, and for a space during which a man might have counted fifty slowly, laid his hand upon her forehead. then, turning to the nurse, who had of course heard of the withdrawal of the other doctors, he bade her bring him a wine-glass of iced water. she disappeared, and while she was absent nikola sat by the bedside holding the sick girl's hand, and never for a moment taking his eyes from her face. presently the woman returned, bringing the water as directed. he took it from her, and going to the window poured from a phial, which he had taken from his pocket, some twenty drops of the dark liquid it contained. then with a spoon he gave her nearly half of the contents of the glass. this done he once more seated himself beside the bed, and waited patiently for the result. several times within the next half-hour he bent over the recumbent figure, and was evidently surprised at not seeing some change which he expected would take place. at the end of that time he gave her another spoonful of the liquid, and once more sat down to watch. when an hour had passed he permitted a sigh of satisfaction to escape him, then, turning to my wife, whose anxiety was plainly expressed upon her face, he said-- "i think, lady hatteras, that you may tell them that she will not die. there is still much to be done, but i pledge my word that she will live." the reaction was too much for my wife; she felt as if she were choking, then she turned giddy, and at last was possessed with a frantic desire to cry. softly leaving the room, she came in search of us. the moment that she opened the door of the drawing-room, and i looked upon her face, i knew that there was good news for us. "what does he say about her?" cried the duke, forgetting the dean's presence, while the latter rose and drew a step nearer, without speaking a word. "there is good news," she said, fumbling with her handkerchief in a suspicious manner. "doctor nikola says she will live." "thank god," we all said in one breath. and glenbarth murmured something more that i did not catch. so implicit was our belief in nikola that, as you have doubtless observed, we accepted his verdict without a second thought. i kissed my wife, and then shook hands solemnly with the dean. the duke had meanwhile vanished, presumably to his own apartment, where he could meditate on certain matters undisturbed. after that phyllis left us and returned to the sick-room, where she found nikola still seated beside the bed, just as she had left him. so far as she could judge, miss trevor did not appear to be any different, though perhaps she did not breathe as heavily as she had hitherto done. nikola, however, appeared to be well satisfied. he nodded approvingly to phyllis as she entered, and then returned to his contemplation of his patient once more. in this fashion hour after hour went by. once during each my wife would come to me with reassuring bulletins. "miss trevor was, if anything, a little better, she did not seem so restless as before." "the fever seemed to be abating;" and then, towards nine o'clock that night, "at last gertrude was sleeping peacefully." it was not, however, until nearly midnight that nikola himself made his appearance. "the worst is over," he said, approaching the dean; "your daughter is now asleep, and will only require watching for the next two hours. at the end of that time i shall return, and shall hope to find a decided improvement in her condition." "i can never thank you enough, my dear sir," said the worthy old clergyman, shaking the other by the hand while the tears ran down his wrinkled cheeks. "but for your wonderful skill there can be no sort of doubt that she would be lost to us now. she is my only child, my ewe lamb, and may heaven bless you for your goodness to me." i thought that nikola looked at him rather curiously as he said this. it was the first time i had seen nikola brought into the society of a dignitary of the english church, and i was anxious to see how the pair comported themselves under the circumstances. a couple more diametrically opposite could be scarcely imagined. they were as oil and water, and could scarcely be expected to assimilate. "sir, i should have been less than human if i had not done everything possible to save that beautiful young life," said nikola, with what was to me the suggestion of a double meaning in his speech. "and now you must permit me to bid you good-bye for the present. in two hours i shall return again." thinking he might prefer to remain near his patient, i pressed him to stay at the hotel, offering to do all that lay in my power to make him comfortable. but he would not hear of such a thing. "as you should be aware by this time, i never rest away from my own house," he answered, in a tone that settled the matter once and for all. "if anything should occur in the meantime, send for me and i will come at once. i do not apprehend any change, however." when he had gone i went in search of the duke and found him in his own room. "dick," he said, "look at me and tell me if you can see any difference. i feel as though i had passed through years of suffering. another week would have made an old man of me. how is she now?" "progressing famously," i answered. "you need not look so sceptical, for this must surely be the case, since nikola has gone home to take some rest and will not return for two hours." he wrung my hand on hearing this. "how little i dreamt," he said, "when we were confined in that wretched room in port said, and when he played that trick upon me in sydney, that some day he was destined to do me the greatest service any man has ever done me in my life. didn't i tell you that those other medicos did not know what they were doing, and that nikola is the greatest doctor in the world?" i admitted that he had given me the first assurance, but i was not quite so certain about the latter. then, realizing how he must be feeling, i proposed that we should row down the canal for a breath of fresh sea air. at first the duke was for refusing the invitation, eventually however he assented, and when we had induced the dean to accompany us we set off. when we reached the hotel once more it was to discover that nikola had returned, and that he had again taken up his watch in the sick-room. he remained there all night, passing hour after hour at the bedside, without, so my wife asserted, moving, save to give the medicine, and without apparently feeling the least fatigue. it was not until between seven and eight o'clock next morning that i caught a glimpse of him. he was in the dining-room then, partaking of a small cup of black coffee, into which he had poured some curious decoction of his own. for my part i have never yet been able to discover how nikola managed to keep body and soul together on his frugal fare. "how is the patient this morning?" i asked, when we had greeted each other. "out of danger," he replied, slowly stirring his coffee as he spoke. "she will continue to progress now. i hope you are satisfied that i have done all i can in her interests?" "i am more than satisfied," i answered. "i am deeply grateful. as her father said yesterday, if it had not been for you, nikola, she must inevitably have succumbed. she will have cause to bless your name for the remainder of her existence." he looked at me very curiously as i said this. "do you think she will do that?" he asked, with unusual emphasis. "do you think it will please her to remember that she owes her life to _me_?" "i am sure she will always be deeply grateful," i replied, somewhat ambiguously. "i fancy you know that yourself." "and your wife? what does she say?" "she thinks you are certainly the greatest of all doctors," i answered, with a laugh. "i feel that i ought to be jealous, but strangely enough i'm not." "and yet i have done nothing so very wonderful," he continued, almost as if he were talking to himself. "but that those other blind worms are content to go on digging in their mud, when they should be seeking the light in another direction, they could do as much as i have done. by the way, have you seen our friend, don martinos, since you dined together at my house?" i replied to the effect that i had not done so, but reported that the don had sent repeated messages of sympathy to us during miss trevor's illness. i then inquired whether nikola had seen him? "i saw him yesterday morning," he replied. "we devoted upwards of four hours to exploring the city together." i could not help wondering how the don had enjoyed the excursion, but, needless to remark, i did not say anything on this score to my companion. that night nikola was again in attendance upon his patient. next day she was decidedly better; she recognized her father and my wife, and every hour was becoming more and more like her former self. "was she surprised when she regained consciousness to find nikola at her bedside?" i inquired of phyllis when the great news was reported to me. "strangely enough she was not," phyllis replied. "i fully expected, remembering my previous suspicions, that it would have a bad effect upon her, but it did nothing of the kind. it was just as if she had expected to find him there." "and what were his first words to her?" "'i hope you are feeling better, miss trevor,' he said, and she replied, 'much better,' that was all. it was as commonplace as could be." next day nikola only looked in twice, the day after once, and at the end of the week informed me that she stood in no further need of his attention. "how shall we ever be able to reward you, nikola?" i asked, for about the hundredth time, as we stood together in the corridor outside the sick-room. "i have no desire to be rewarded," he answered. "it is enough for me to see miss trevor restored to health. endeavour, if you can, to recall a certain conversation we had together respecting the lady in question on the evening that i narrated to you the story concerning the boy, who was so badly treated by the spanish governor. did i not tell you then that our destinies were inextricably woven together? i informed you that it had been revealed to me many years ago that we should meet; should you feel surprised, therefore, if i told you that i had also been warned of this illness?" once more i found myself staring at him in amazement. "you are surprised? believe me, however astonishing it may seem, it is quite true. i knew that miss trevor would come into my life; i knew also that it would be my lot to save her from death. what is more, i know that in the end the one thing, which has seemed to me most desirable in life, will be taken from me by her hands." "i am afraid i cannot follow you," i said. "perhaps not, but you will be able to some day," he answered. "that moment has not yet arrived. in the meantime watch and wait, for before we know it it will be upon us." then, with a look that was destined to haunt me for many a long day, he bade me farewell, and left the hotel. chapter x to the joy of every one, by the thursday following miss trevor was sufficiently recovered to be able to leave her room. it was a happy day for every one concerned, particularly for the duke, who came nearer presenting the appearance of an amiable lunatic on that occasion than i had ever seen him before. why my wife should have encouraged him in his extravagance i cannot say, but the fact remains that she allowed him to go out with her that morning with the professed idea of purchasing a few flowers to decorate the drawing-room for the invalid's reception. so great was their extravagance that the room more resembled a hot-house, or a flower-show, than a civilized apartment. i pointed this out to my wife with a gentle remonstrance, and was informed that, being a mere husband, i knew nothing at all about the matter. i trust that i preserved my balance and lived up to my reputation for sanity in the midst of this general excitement, though i am prepared to confess that i was scarcely myself when the triumphal procession, consisting of my wife and the dean, set off to the invalid's apartment to escort her in. when she appeared it was like a ghost of her former self, and a poor wan ghost too. her father, of course, she had already seen, but neither i nor glenbarth had of course had the honour of meeting her since she was taken ill. she received him very graciously, and was kind enough to thank me for the little i had done for her. we seated her between us in a comfortable chair, placed a footstool under her feet, and then, in order that she should not have too much excitement, and that she might rest quietly, the dean, the duke, and myself were sent about our business for an hour. when we returned, a basket of exquisite roses stood on the table, and on examining it the card of don josè de martinos was found to be attached to it. it is some proof of the anxiety that glenbarth felt not to do anything that might worry her, when i say that he read the card and noted the giver without betraying the least trace of annoyance. it is true that he afterwards furnished me with his opinion of the giver for presuming to send them, but the casual observer would have declared, had he been present to observe the manner in which he behaved when he had first seen the gift, that he had taken no interest in the matter at all. next day miss trevor was permitted to get up a little earlier, and on the day following a little earlier still. in the meantime more flowers had arrived from the don, while he himself had twice made personal inquiries as to the progress she was making. it was not until the third day of her convalescence that nikola called to see his patient. i was sitting alone with her at the time, my wife and our other two guests having gone shopping in the merceria. i was idly cutting a copy of a tauchnitz publication that i had procured for her on the previous day. the weather was steadily growing warmer, and, for this reason, the windows were open and a flood of brilliant sunshine was streaming into the room. from the canal outside came the sounds of rippling laughter, then an unmistakably american voice called out, "say, girls, what do you think of venice now you're here?" then another voice replied, "plenty of water about, but they don't seem to wash their buildings much." miss trevor was about to speak, in fact she had opened her lips to do so, when a strange expression appeared upon her face. she closed her eyes for a moment, and i began to fear that she was ill. when she opened them again i was struck by a strange fact; the eyes were certainly there, but there was no sort of life in them. they were like those of a sleep-walker who, while his eyes are open, sees nothing of things about him. a moment later there was a knock at the door, and doctor nikola, escorted by a servant, entered the room. wishing us "good-morning," he crossed the room and shook hands with miss trevor, afterwards with myself. "you are certainly looking better," he said, addressing his patient, and placing his finger and thumb upon her wrist as he spoke. "i am much better," she answered, but for some reason without her usual animation. "in that case i think this will be the last visit i shall pay you in my professional capacity," he said. "you have been an excellent patient, and in the interests of what our friend sir richard here calls science, permit me to offer you my grateful thanks." "it is i who should thank you," she answered, as if she were repeating some lesson she had learnt by heart. "i trust then, on the principle that one seldom or never acts as one should, that you will not do it," he replied, with a smile. "i am amply rewarded by observing that the flush of health is returning to your cheeks." he then inquired after my wife's health, bade me be careful of her for the reason that, since i had behaved so outrageously towards them, no other doctors in venice would attend her, should she be taken ill, and then rose to bid us adieu. "this is a very short visit," i said. "cannot we persuade you to give us a little more of your society?" "i fear not," he answered. "i am developing quite a practice in venice, and my time is no longer my own." "you have other patients?" i asked, in some surprise, for i did not think he would condescend to such a thing. "i have your friend, don martinos, now upon my hands," he said. "the good galaghetti is so abominably grateful for what i did for his child, that he will insist on trying to draw me into experimenting upon other people." "would it be indiscreet to ask what is the matter with the don?" i said. "he does not look like a man who would be likely to be an invalid." "i do not think there is so very much wrong with him," nikola replied vaguely. "at any rate it is not anything that cannot be very easily put right." when he left the room i accompanied him down the corridor as far as the hall. "the fact of the matter is," he began, when we were alone together, "our friend the don has been running the machinery of life a little too fast of late. i am told that he lost no less a sum than fifty thousand pounds in english money last week, and certainly his nerves are not what they once were." "he is a gambler, then?" i said. "an inveterate gambler, i should say," nikola answered. "and when a spaniard takes to that sort of amusement, he generally does it most thoroughly." whatever the don's illness may have been, it certainly had made its mark upon his appearance. i chanced to meet him that afternoon on the rialto bridge, and was thunderstruck at the change. the man's face was white, and his eyes had dark rings under them, that to my thinking spoke for an enfeebled heart. when he stopped to speak to me, i noticed that his hands trembled as though he were afflicted with st. vitus's dance. "i hope miss trevor is better," he said, after i had commented upon the fact that i had not seen him of late. "much better," i answered. "in fact, she may now be said to be convalescent. i was sorry to hear from doctor nikola, however, that you yourself are not quite the thing." "nerves, only nerves," he answered, with what was almost a frightened look in his eyes. "doctor nikola will set me right in no time, i am sure of that. i have had a run of beastly luck lately, and it has upset me more than i can say." i knew to what he referred, but i did not betray my knowledge. after that he bade me farewell, and continued his walk. that evening another exquisite basket of flowers arrived for miss trevor. there was no card attached to it, but as the duke denied all knowledge of it, i felt certain as to whence it came. on the day following, for the first time since her illness, miss trevor was able to leave the house and to go for a short airing upon the canal. we were rejoiced to take her, and made arrangements for her comfort, but there was one young man who was more attentive than all the rest of the party put together. would miss trevor like another cushion? was she quite sure that she was comfortable? would she have preferred a gondola to a barca? i said nothing, but i wondered what the dean thought, for he is an observant old gentleman. as for the young lady herself, she accepted the other's attentions with the most charming good-humour, and thus all went merry as marriage-bells. on the day following she went out again, and on the afternoon of the next day felt so much stronger as to express a desire to walk for a short time on the piazza of st. mark. we accordingly landed at the well-known steps, and strolled slowly towards the cathedral. it was a lovely afternoon, the air being soft and warm, with a gentle breeze blowing in from the sea. it is needless for me to say that glenbarth was in the seventh heaven of delight, and was already beginning to drop sundry little confidences into my ear. her illness had ruined the opportunity he had hoped to have had, but he was going to make up for it now. indeed it looked very much as if she had at last made up her mind concerning him, but, having had one experience of the sex, i was not going to assure myself that all was satisfactory until a definite announcement was made by the lady herself. as it turned out it was just as well that i did so, for that afternoon, not altogether unexpectedly i must confess, was destined to prove the truth of the old saying that the course of true love never runs smooth. miss trevor, with the duke on one side and my wife on the other, was slowly passing across the great square, when a man suddenly appeared before us from one of the shops on our right. this individual was none other than the don josè de martinos, who raised his hat politely to the ladies and expressed his delight at seeing miss trevor abroad once more. as usual, he was faultlessly dressed, and on the whole looked somewhat better in health than he had done when i had last seen him. by some means, i scarcely know how it was done, he managed to slip in between my wife and miss trevor, and in this order we made our way towards our usual resting-place, florian's _café_. never, since we had known him, had the don exerted himself so much to please. the duke, however, did not seem satisfied. his high spirits had entirely left him, and, in consequence, he was now as quiet as he had been talkative before. it was plain to all of us that the don admired miss trevor, and that he wanted her to become aware of the fact. next morning he made an excuse and joined our party again. at this the duke's anger knew no bounds. personally i must confess that i was sorry for the young fellow. it was very hard upon him, just as he was progressing so favourably, that another should appear upon the scene and distract the lady's attention. yet there was only one way of ending it, if only he could summon up sufficient courage to do it. i fear, however, that he was either too uncertain as to the result, or that he dreaded his fate, should she consign him to the outer darkness, too much to put it into execution. for this reason he had to submit to sharing her smiles with the spaniard, which, if only he could have understood it, was an excellent thing for his patience, and a salutary trial for his character. meanwhile my wife looked on in despair. "i thought it was all settled," she said pathetically, on one occasion, "and now they are as far off as ever. why on earth does that troublesome man come between them?" "because he has quite as much right to be there as the other," i answered. "if the duke wants her, let him ask her, but that's just what he won't do. the whole matter should have been settled by now." "it's all very well for you to say that," she returned. "the poor boy would have done it before gertrude was taken ill, but that you opposed him." "and a very proper proceeding too," i answered. "miss trevor was under my charge, and i was certainly not going to let any young man, doubtless very desirable, but who had only known her two days, propose to her, get sent about his business, render it impossible for our party to continue together, and by so doing take all the pleasure out of our holiday." "so it was only of yourself you were thinking?" she returned, with that wonderful inconsistency that is such a marked trait in her character. "why do you urge him now to do it?" "because miss gertrude is no longer under my charge," i answered. "her father is here, and is able to look after her." then an idea occurred to me, and i acted upon it at once. "when you come to think of it, my dear," i said, as if i had been carefully considering the question, "why should the don not make gertrude as good a husband as glenbarth? he is rich, doubtless comes of a very good family, and would certainly make a very presentable figure in society." she stared at me aghast. "well," she said in astonishment, "i must say that i think you are a loyal friend. you know that the duke has set his heart on marrying her, and yet you are championing the cause of his rival. i should never have thought it of you, dick." i hastened to assure her that i was not in earnest, but for a moment i almost fancy she thought i was. "if you are on the duke's side i wonder that you encourage don martinos to continue his visits," she went on, after the other matter had been satisfactorily settled. "i cannot tell you how much i dislike him. i feel that i would rather see gertrude married to a crossing-sweeper than to that man. how she can even tolerate him, i do not know. i find it very difficult to do so." "poor don," i said, "he does not appear to have made a very good impression. in common justice i must admit that, so far as i am concerned, he has been invariably extremely civil." "because he wants your interest. you are the head of the house." "it is a pretty fiction--let it pass however." she pretended not to notice my gibe. "he is gambling away every halfpenny he possesses." i regarded her with unfeigned astonishment. how could she have become aware of this fact? i put the question to her. "some one connected with the hotel told my maid, phillipa," she answered. "they say he never returns to the hotel until between two and three in the morning." "he is not married," i retorted. she vouchsafed no remark to this speech, but, bidding me keep my eyes open, and beware lest there should be trouble between the two men, left me to my own thoughts. the warning she had given me was not a futile one, for it needed only half an eye to see that glenbarth and martinos were desperately jealous of one another. they eyed each other when they met as if, at any moment, they were prepared to fly at each other's throats. once the duke's behaviour was such as to warrant my speaking to him upon the subject when we were alone together. "my dear fellow," i said, "i must ask you to keep yourself in hand. i don't like having to talk to you, but i have to remember that there are ladies in the case." "then why on earth doesn't martinos keep out of my way?" he asked angrily. "you pitch into me for getting riled, but you don't see how villainously rude he is to me. he contradicts me as often as he can, and, for the rest of the time, treats me as if i were a child." "in return you treat him as if he were an outsider, and had no right to look at, much less to speak to, miss trevor. nevertheless he is our friend--or if he is not our friend, he has at least been introduced to us by a friend. now i have no desire that you should quarrel at all, but if you must do so, let it be when you are alone together, and also when you are out of the hotel." i had no idea how literally my words were to be taken. that night, according to a custom he had of late adopted, martinos put in an appearance after dinner, and brought his guitar with him. as he bade us "good-evening" i looked at the duke's face. it was pale and set as if he had at last come to an understanding with himself. presently my wife and i sang a duet together, in a fashion that pointed very plainly to the fact that our thoughts were elsewhere. miss trevor thanked us in a tone that showed me that she also had given but small attention to our performance. then gertrude sang a song of tosti's very prettily, and was rewarded with enthusiastic applause. after this the don was called upon to perform. he took up his guitar, and having tuned it, struck a few chords and began to sing. though i look back upon that moment now with real pain, i must confess that i do not think i had ever heard him sing better; the merry laughter of the song suited his voice to perfection. it was plainly a comic ditty with some absurd imitations of the farm-yard at the end of each verse. when he had finished, my wife politely asked him to give us a translation of the words. fate willed that she should ask, i suppose, and also that he should answer it. "it is a story of a foolish young man who loved a fair maid," he replied, speaking with the utmost deliberation. "unfortunately, however, he was afraid to tell her of his love. he pined to be with her, yet, whenever he was desirous of declaring his passion, his courage failed him at the last moment, and he was compelled to talk of the most commonplace things, such as the animals upon his father's farm. at last she, tiring of such a laggard, sent him away in disgust to learn how to woo. in the meantime she married a man who was better acquainted with his business." whether the song was exactly as he described it, i am not in a position to say; the fact, however, remains that at least four of our party saw the insinuation and bitterly resented it. i saw the duke's face flush and then go pale. i thought for a moment that he was going to say something, but he contented himself by picking up a book from the table at his side, and glancing carelessly at it. i could guess, by the way his hands gripped it, something of the storm that was raging in his breast. my wife, meanwhile, had turned the conversation into another channel by asking the dean what he had thought of a certain old church he had visited that morning. this gave a little relief, but not very much. ten minutes later the don rose and bade us "good-night." with a sneer on his face, he even extended his good wish to the duke, who bowed, but did not reply. when he had gone, my wife gave the signal for a general dispersal, and glenbarth and i were presently left in the drawing-room alone. i half expected an immediate outburst, but to my surprise he said nothing on the subject. i had no intention of referring to it unless he did, and so the matter remained for the time in abeyance. after a conversation on general topics, lasting perhaps a quarter of an hour, we wished each other "good-night," and retired to our respective rooms. when i entered my wife's room later, i was prepared for the discussion which i knew was inevitable. "what do you think of your friend now?" she asked, with a touch of sarcasm thrown into the word "friend." "you of course heard how he insulted the duke?" "i noticed that he did a very foolish thing, not only for his own interests with us, but also for several other reasons. you may rely upon it that if ever he had any chance with gertrude----" "he never had the remotest chance, i can promise you that," my wife interrupted. "i say if ever he had a chance with gertrude, he has lost it now. surely that should satisfy you." "it does not satisfy me that he should be rude to our guest at any time, but i am particularly averse to his insulting him in our presence." "you need not worry yourself," i said. "in all probability you will see no more of him. i shall convey a hint to him upon the subject. it will not be pleasant for anstruther's sake." "mr. anstruther should have known better than to have sent him to us," she replied. "there is one thing i am devoutly thankful for, and that is that the duke took it so beautifully. he might have been angry, and have made a scene. indeed i should not have blamed him, had he done so." i did not ask her, for reasons of my own, whether she was sure that his grace of glenbarth was not angry. i must confess that i was rendered more uneasy by the quiet way he had taken it, than if he had burst into an explosion. concealed fires are invariably more dangerous than open ones. next morning after breakfast, while we were smoking together in the balcony, a note was brought to glenbarth. he took it, opened it, and when he had read the contents, thrust it hastily into his pocket. "no answer," he said, as he lit a cigar, and i thought his hand trembled a little as he put the match to it. his face was certainly paler than usual, and there was a far-away look in his eyes that showed me that it was not the canal or the houses opposite that he was looking upon. "there is something behind all this, and i must find out what it is," i said to myself. "surely he can't be going to make a fool of himself." i knew, however, that my chance of getting anything satisfactory out of him lay in saying nothing about the matter just then. i must play my game in another fashion. "what do you say if we run down to rome next week?" i asked, after a little pause. "my wife and miss trevor seem to think they would enjoy it. there are lots of people we know there just now." "i shall be very pleased," he answered, but with a visible effort. at any other time he would have jumped eagerly at the suggestion. decidedly there was something wrong! at luncheon he was preoccupied, so much so that i could see miss trevor wondered what was the matter. had she known the terrible suspicion that was growing in my own mind, i wonder what she would have said, and also how she would have acted? that afternoon the ladies resolved to remain at home, and the dean decided to stay with them. in consequence, the duke and i went out together. he was still as quiet as he had been in the morning, but as yet i had not been able to screw up my courage to such a pitch as to be able to put the question to him. once, however, i asked the reason for his quietness, and received the evasive reply "that he was not feeling quite up to the mark that day." this time i came a little nearer the point. "you are not worrying about that wretched fellow's rudeness, i hope?" i said, looking him fairly and squarely in the face. "not in the least," he answered. "why should i be?" "well, because i know you are hot-tempered," i returned, rather puzzled to find an explanation for him. "oh, i'll have it out with him at some time or another, i have no doubt," he continued, and then changed the subject by referring to some letters he had had from home that day. when later we returned to the hotel for afternoon tea, we found the two ladies eagerly awaiting our coming. from the moment that he entered the room, miss trevor was graciousness itself to the young man. she smiled upon him, and encouraged him, until he scarcely knew whether he was standing upon his head or his heels. i fancy she was anxious to compensate him for the don's rudeness to him. that evening we all complained of feeling tired, and accordingly went to bed early. i was the latest of the party, and my own man had not left my dressing-room more than a minute before he returned with the information that the duke's valet would be glad if he could have a few words with me. "send him in," i said, and forthwith the man made his appearance. "what is it, henry?" i inquired. "is your master not well?" "i don't know what's wrong with his grace, sir," the man replied. "i'm very much frightened about him, and i thought i would come to you at once." "why, what is the matter? he seemed well enough when i bade him good-night, half-an-hour or so ago." "it isn't that, sir. he's well enough in his body," said the man. "there's something else behind it all. i know, sir, you won't mind my coming to you. i didn't know what else to do." "you had better tell me everything, then i shall know how to act. what do you think is the reason of it?" "well, sir, it's like this," henry went on. "his grace has been very quiet all day. he wrote a lot of letters this morning and put them in his dispatch-box. 'i'll tell you what to do with them later, henry,' he said when he had finished. well, i didn't think very much of that, but when to-night he asked me what i had made up my mind to do with myself if ever i should leave his service, and told me that he had put it down in his will that i was to have five hundred pounds if he should die before i left him, i began to think there was something the matter. well, sir, i took his things to-night, and was in the act of leaving the room, when he called me back. 'i'm going out early for a swim in the sea to-morrow morning,' he said, 'but i shan't say anything to sir richard hatteras about it, because i happen to know that he thinks the currents about here are dangerous. well, one never knows what may turn up,' he goes on to say, 'and if, by any chance, henry--though i hope such a thing will not happen--i should be caught, and should not return, i want you to give this letter to sir richard. but remember this, you are on no account to touch it until mid-day. do you understand?' i told him that i did, but i was so frightened, sir, by what he said, that i made up my mind to come and see you at once." this was disturbing intelligence indeed. from what he said there could be no doubt that the don and glenbarth contemplated fighting a duel. in that case what was to be done? to attempt to reason with the duke in his present humour would be absurd, besides his honour was at stake, and, though i am totally against duels, that counts for something. "i am glad you told me this, henry," i said, "for now i shall know how to act. don't worry about your master's safety. leave him to me. he is safe in my hands. he shall have his swim to-morrow morning, but i shall take very good care that he is watched. you may go to bed with an easy heart, and don't think about that letter. it will not be needed, for he will come to no harm." the man thanked me civilly and withdrew, considerably relieved in his mind by his interview with me. then i sat myself down to think the matter out. what was i to do? doubtless the don was an experienced duellist, while glenbarth, though a very fair shot with a rifle or fowling-piece, would have no chance against him with the pistol or the sword. it was by no means an enviable position for a man to be placed in, and i fully realized my responsibility in the matter. i felt that i needed help, but to whom should i apply for it? the dean would be worse than useless; while to go to the don and to ask him to sacrifice his honour to our friendship for glenbarth would be to run the risk of being shown the door. then i thought of nikola, and made up my mind to go to him at once. since the duke had spoken of leaving the hotel early in the morning, there could be no doubt as to the hour of the meeting. in that case there was no time to be lost. i thereupon went to explain matters to my wife. "i had a suspicion that this would happen," she said, when she had heard me out. "oh, dick! you must stop it without fail. i should never forgive myself if anything were to happen to him while he is our guest. go to doctor nikola at once and tell him everything, and implore him to help us as he has helped us before." thus encouraged, i left her, and went back to my dressing-room to complete my attire. this done i descended to the hall to endeavour to obtain a gondola. good fortune favoured me, for the american party who had but lately arrived at the hotel, had just returned from the theatre. i engaged the man who had brought them, and told him to take me to the palace revecce with all possible speed. "it's a late hour, senor," he replied, "and i'd rather go anywhere than to that house in the rio del consiglio." "you will be well paid for your trouble and also for your fear," i replied as i got into the boat. next moment we were on our way. a light was burning in nikola's room as we drew up at the palace steps. i bade the gondolier wait for me, and to ensure his doing so, refused to pay him until my return. then i rang the bell, and was rewarded in a few minutes by hearing nikola's footsteps on the flag-stones of the courtyard. when the door opened he was vastly surprised at seeing me; he soon recovered his equilibrium, however. it took more than a small surprise to upset nikola. he invited me to enter. "i hope there is nothing wrong," he said politely. "otherwise how am i to account for this late call?" "something is very wrong indeed," i said. "i have come to consult you, and to ask for your assistance." by this time he had reached his own room--that horrible room i remembered so well. "the fact of the matter is," i said, seating myself in the chair he offered me as i spoke, "the duke of glenbarth and don de martinos have arranged to fight a duel soon after daybreak." "to fight a duel?" nikola repeated. "so it has come to this, has it? well, what do you want me to do?" "surely it is needless for me to say," i replied. "i want you to help me to stop it. you like the duke, i know. surely you will not allow that brave young life to be sacrificed by that spaniard?" "from the way you speak it would appear that _you_ do not care for martinos?" nikola replied. "i frankly confess that i do not," i replied. "he was introduced to me by a personal friend, but none of my party care very much for him. and now this new affair only adds to our dislike. he insulted the duke most unwarrantably in my drawing-room last night, and this duel is the result." "always the same, always the same," nikola muttered to himself. "but the end is coming, and his evil deeds will bear their own fruit." then turning to me, he said aloud--"since you wish it, i will help you. don josè is a magnificent shot, and he would place a bullet in the duke's anatomy wherever he might choose to receive it. the issue would never for one moment be in doubt." "but how do you know the don is such a good shot?" i inquired with considerable surprise, for until the moment that i had introduced them to each other i had no idea that they had ever met. "i know more about him than you think," he answered, fixing his glittering eyes upon me. "but now to business. if they fight at daybreak there is not much time to be lost." he went to his writing-table at the other side of the room and wrote a few lines on a sheet of note-paper. placing it in an envelope he inquired whether i had told my gondolier to wait. upon my answering in the affirmative, he left me and went down-stairs. "what have you done?" i inquired when he returned. "i have sent word to an agent i sometimes employ," he said. "he will keep his eyes open. now you had better get back to your hotel and to bed. sleep secure on my promise that the two men shall not fight. when you are called, take the gondola you will find awaiting you outside the hotel, and i will meet you at a certain place. now let me wish you a good-night." he conducted me to the hall below and saw me into the gondola. then saying something to the gondolier that i did not catch, he bade me adieu, and i returned to the hotel. punctually at five o'clock i was awakened by a tapping at my bedroom door. i dressed, donned a cloak, for the morning was cold, and descended to the hall. the night watchman informed me that a gondola was awaiting me at the steps, and conducted me to it. without a word i got in, and the little craft shot out into the canal. we entered a narrow street on the other side, took two or three turnings to right and left, and at last came to a standstill at some steps that i had never noticed before. a tall figure, wrapped in a black cloak, was awaiting us there. it was nikola! entering the gondola he took his place at my side. then once more we set off. at the same moment, so nikola informed me, glenbarth was leaving the hotel. chapter xi when i had picked up nikola we continued our voyage. dawn was just breaking, and venice appeared very strange and uncanny in the weird morning light. a cold wind was blowing in from the sea, and when i experienced its sharpness, i could not help feeling thankful that i had the foresight to bring my cloak. "how do you know where the meeting is to take place?" i asked, after we had been travelling a few minutes. "because, when i am unable to find things out for myself, i have agents who can do it for me," he replied. "what would appear difficult, in reality is very simple. to reach the place in question it would be necessary for them to employ gondolas, and for the reason that, as you are aware, there are not many plying in the streets of venice at such an early hour, it would be incumbent upon them to bespeak them beforehand. a few inquiries among the gondoliers elicited the information i wanted. that point satisfactorily settled, the rest was easy." "and you think we shall be there in time to prevent the meeting?" i asked. "we shall be at the rendezvous before they are," he answered. "and i have promised you they shall not fight." comforted by this reassuring news, i settled myself down to watch the tortuous thoroughfares through which we were passing. presently we passed the church of st. maria del formosa, and later the ducal palace, thence out into the commencement of the grand canal itself. it was then that nikola urged the gondoliers, for we had two, to greater speed. under their powerful strokes the light little craft sped over the smooth bay, passed the island of st. georgio maggiore, and then turned almost due south. then i thought of glenbarth, and wondered what his feelings were at that moment. at last i began to have an inkling of our destination. we were proceeding in the direction of the lido, and it was upon the sandy beach that separates the lagoons and venice from the open sea that the duel was to be fought. presently we landed, and nikola said something to the gondoliers, who turned their craft and moved slowly away. after walking along the sands for some distance, we hid ourselves at a place where it was possible to see the strip of beach, while we ourselves remained hidden. "they will not be here before another ten minutes," said nikola, consulting his watch; "we had a good start of them." seating ourselves we awaited their arrival, and while we did so, nikola talked of the value set upon human life by the inhabitants of different countries. no one was more competent to speak on such a subject than he, for he had seen it in every clime and in every phase. he spoke with a bitterness and a greater scorn for the petty vanities and aims of men than i had ever noticed in him before. suddenly he stopped, and looking towards the left said-- "if i am not mistaken, the duke of glenbarth has arrived." i looked in the direction indicated, and was able to descry the tall figure of the duke coming along the sands. a little later two other persons made their appearance and followed him. one was undoubtedly the don, but who was the third? as they drew closer, i discovered that he was unknown to me; not so to nikola, however. "burmaceda," he said to himself, and there was an ugly sneer upon his face. the duke bowed ceremoniously to the two men, and the stranger, having returned his salute, knelt upon the sand, and proceeded to open a box he had brought with him. from it he produced a pair of pistols which he loaded with ostentatious care. this work finished, he took them by their barrels and gave glenbarth his choice. the spaniard, i noticed, was dressed entirely in black, not showing a particle of white; the duke was attired very much as usual. when each had taken a pistol, the stranger measured the distance upon the sands and allotted them their respective positions. by this time i was in such a fever of excitement that nikola laid his hand upon my arm to restrain me. "wait," he whispered. "have i not pledged you my word that your friend shall not be hurt? do not interrupt them yet. i have my suspicions, and am anxious to confirm them." [illustration: "'put down your pistols,' said nikola."] i accordingly waited, but though it was only for a few seconds it seemed to me an eternity. the two men were in position, and the stranger, i gathered, was giving them their final instructions. they were to stand with their faces turned from each other, and at the word of command were to wheel round and fire. in a flash i saw what nikola had in his mind. the stranger was favouring the don, for while glenbarth would have faithfully carried out his portion of the contract, the spaniard did not turn at all, a fact which his opponent was scarcely likely to become aware of, seeing that he would in all probability have a bullet in his heart before he would have had time to realize the trick that had been played upon him. the stranger had raised his hand above his head, and was about to give the signal, when nikola sprang from beside me, and in a loud voice called to them to "stop." i rose to my feet at the same instant, and followed him across the sands to where the men stood. "put down your pistols, gentlemen," said nikola in a voice that rang like a trumpet-call. "i forbid the duel. your grace, the challenge comes from you, i beg that you will apologize to don martinos for having sent it." "i shall do nothing of the kind," the duke returned. on learning this nikola took him on one side and talked earnestly with him for a few minutes. then, still with his hand upon the other's arm, he led him back to where we were standing. "i express my regret for having challenged you," said glenbarth, but with no good grace. "i thank you, your grace," said nikola. then turning to the don, he went on--"and now, don martinos, i hope you will apologize to the duke for the insults that occasioned the challenge." with an oath the spaniard vowed that he was the last man to do anything of the kind. he had never apologized to any man in his life, and he was not going to do so now, with more to the same effect. then nikola fixed his glittering eyes upon him. his voice, however, when he spoke was as conciliatory as ever. "to oblige _me_ you will do it," he said, and then drawing a little closer to him he murmured something that we could not hear. the effect upon the don was magical. his face turned a leaden hue, and for a moment i thought he would have fallen, but he recovered his self-possession with an effort, and muttered the apology nikola had demanded of him. "i thank you, gentlemen," said nikola. "now, with your permission, we will return to the city." here he wheeled round upon the stranger, and continued:--"this is not the first of these little affairs in which you have played a part. you have been warned before, profit by it, for the time may come when it will be too late. remember pietro sallomi." i do not know who pietro sallomi may have been, but i know that the mere mention of his name was sufficient to take all the swagger out of the stranger. he fell to pieces like a house of cards. "now, gentlemen, let us be moving," said nikola, and taking the don with him he set off quickly in the direction of the spot where we had disembarked from the gondola. i followed with the duke. "my dear boy," i said, as we walked along, "why on earth did you do it? is your life of so little value to yourself or to your friends, that you try to throw it away in this reckless fashion?" "i am the most miserable brute on the face of the earth," he replied. "i think it would have been far better for me had i been shot back there." "look here, glenbarth," i said with some anger, "if you talk nonsense in this manner, i shall begin to think that you are not accountable for your actions. what on earth have you to be so unhappy about?" "you know very well," he answered gloomily. "you are making yourself miserable because miss trevor will not marry you," i said. "you have not asked her, how therefore can you tell?" "but she seems to prefer don martinos," he went on. "fiddlesticks!" i answered. "i'm quite certain she hasn't thought of him in that way. now, i am going to talk plainly to you. i have made up my mind that we leave to-day for rome. we shall spend a fortnight there, and you should have a fair opportunity of putting the question to miss trevor. if you can't do it in that time, well, all i can say is, that you are not the man i took you for. you must remember one thing, however: i'll have no more of this nonsense. it's all very well for a spanish braggart to go swaggering about the world, endeavouring to put bullets into inoffensive people, but it's not the thing for an english gentleman." "i'm sorry, dick. try to forgive me. you won't tell lady hatteras, will you?" "she knows it already," i answered. "i don't fancy you would get much sympathy from her. try for a moment to picture what their feelings would have been--mine may be left out of the question--if you had been lying dead on the beach yonder. think of your relations at home. what would they have said and thought? and for what?" "because he insulted me," glenbarth replied. "was i to put up with that?" "you should have treated him with the contempt he merited. but there, do not let us discuss the matter any further. all's well that ends well; and i don't think we shall see much more of the don." when we reached the gondolas nikola took me aside. "you had better return to the city with the duke in one," he said; "i will take the don back in another." "and what about the other fellow?" i inquired. "let him swim if he likes," said nikola, with a shrug of his shoulders. "by the way, i suppose you saw what took place back yonder?" i nodded. "then say nothing about it," he replied. "such matters are best kept to one's self." it was a very sober-minded and reflective young man that sat down to breakfast with us that morning. my wife, seeing how matters stood, laid herself out to be especially kind to him. so affable indeed was she, that miss trevor regarded her with considerable surprise. during the meal the journey to rome was discussed, and it was decided that i should telegraph for our old rooms, and that we should leave venice at half-past two. this arrangement was duly carried out, and nightfall saw us well advanced on our journey to the capital. the journey is so well known that i need not attempt to describe it here. only one incident struck me as remarkable about it. no sooner had we crossed the railway-bridge that unites venice with the mainland, than miss trevor's lethargy, if i may so describe it, suddenly left her. she seemed to be her old self instantly. it was as though she had at last thrown off the load under which she had so long been staggering. she laughed and joked with my wife, teased her father, and was even inclined to be flippant with the head of the family. after the events of the morning the effect upon the duke was just what was wanted. in due course we reached rome, and installed ourselves at our old quarters in the piazza barberini. from that moment the time we had allowed ourselves sped by on lightning wings. we seemed scarcely to have got there before it was time to go back to venice. it was unfortunately necessary for the dean to return to england, at the end of our stay in rome, and though it was considerably out of his way, he proposed journeying thither by way of venice. the change had certainly done his daughter good. she was quite her old self once more, and the listless, preoccupied air that had taken such a hold upon her in venice had entirely disappeared. "make the most of the eternal city," my wife announced at dinner on the eve of our departure, "for to-morrow morning you will look your last upon it. the dragon who has us in his power has issued his decree, and, like the laws of the medes and persians, it changeth not." "a dragon?" i answered. "you should say the family scapegoat! i protest to you, my dear dean, that it is most unfair. if it is some disagreeable duty to be performed, then it is by my order; if it is something that will bestow happiness upon another, then it is my lady that gets the credit." "a very proper arrangement," said my wife, "as i am sure the dean will agree with me." "i agree with you in everything," replied the polite old gentleman. "could i do otherwise?" "i appeal to the duke, then. is it your grace's opinion that a husband should of necessity take upon himself the properties of a dragon?" even that wretched young man would not stand by an old friend. "i am not going to be drawn into an argument with you," he said. "if lady hatteras calls you a dragon, then a dragon you must remain until the end of the chapter, so far as i am concerned." "phyllis is always right," answered miss trevor unblushingly. "i give in," i said in mock despair. "if you are all against me, i am undone." it was a beautiful moonlight night when we rose from dinner, and it was arranged that our last evening in rome should be spent in a visit to the colosseum. a carriage was immediately ordered, and when the ladies had wrapped themselves up warmly we set off. to those unfortunate individuals who have not had an opportunity of visiting that ancient structure, i can only justify my incompetency by saying that it would be well-nigh impossible to furnish a description that would give them an adequate idea of the feeling of awe it inspires in one. by moonlight it presents a picture that for solemn grandeur is, to my thinking, without its equal in the world. pompeii by moonlight suggests reflections. the great square of st. mark's in venice seen by the same mellow light is a sight never to be forgotten; but in my humble opinion the colosseum eclipses them all. we entered it and stood in the great ring looking up at the tiers of seats, and recalling its past. the dean was profoundly impressed, and spoke of the men who had given up their lives in martyrdom within those great walls. "how many of the crowd gathered here to witness the agony of the tortured christians," he said, "believed that the very religion which they so heartily despised was destined to sway the world, and to see the mighty colosseum and the mightier power that built it, a ruin? it is a wonderful thought." after the dean's speech we crossed to a spot where a better view was obtainable. it was only then that we discovered that the duke and miss trevor were not of our party. when, however, it was time to return they emerged from the shadow and followed us out. both were unusually silent, and my wife, putting two and two together in her own fashion, came to the conclusion that they had quarrelled. when, later on, the duke and i were alone together, and the ladies and the dean had retired to their respective rooms, i was about to take him to task when he stopped me. "dick, old man," he said with a solemnity that could not have been greater had he been telling me of some great tragedy, "i want you to give me your congratulations. miss trevor has consented to become my wife." i was so surprised that i scarcely knew what to do or say. "good gracious, man!--then why are you so downcast?" i replied. "i had made up my mind that she had refused you!" "i am far from being downcast," he said as solemnly as before. "i am the happiest man in the world. can't you understand how i feel? somehow--now that it is over, and i have won her--it seems so great a thing that it almost overwhelms me. you don't know, dick, how proud i am that she should have taken me!" "and so you ought to be," i said enthusiastically. "you'll have a splendid wife, and i know you'll make a good husband." "i don't deserve it, dick," he continued in humiliating self-abasement. "she is too good for me, much too good." "i remember that i said the same thing myself," i replied. "come to me in five years' time and let me hear what you have to say then." "confound you," he answered; "why do you talk like that?" "because it's the way of the world, my lad," i answered. "but there, you'll learn all for yourself soon enough. now let me order a whisky-and-potash for you, and then off you go to bed." "a whisky-and-potash?" he cried, with horror depicted on his face. "do you think i'm going to drink whisky on the night that she has accepted me? you must be mad." "well, have your own way," i answered. "for my own part, i have no such scruples. i have been married too long." i rang the bell, and, when my refreshment was brought to me, drank it slowly, as became a philosopher. it would appear that miss trevor had already told my wife, for i was destined to listen to a considerable amount of information concerning it before i was allowed to close my eyes that night. "i always said that they were suited to each other," she observed. "she will make an ideal duchess, and i think he may consider himself a very lucky fellow. what did he say about it?" "he admitted that he was not nearly good enough for her." "that was nice of him. and what did you say?" "i told him to come to me in five years' time and let me hear what he had to say then," i answered with a yawn. i had an idea that i should get into trouble over that remark, and i was not mistaken. i was told that it was an unfeeling thing to have said, that it was not the sort of idea to put into a young man's head at such a time, and that if every one had such a good wife as some other people she could name, they would have reason to thank their good fortune. "if i am not mistaken, you told me you were not good enough for me when i accepted you," she retorted. "what do you say now?" "exactly what i said then," i answered diplomatically. "i am not good enough for you. you should have married the dean." "don't be absurd. the dean is a dear old thing, but is old enough to be my father." "he will be glenbarth's father-in-law directly," i said with a chuckle, "and then that young man will have to drink his claret and listen to his sermons. in consideration of that i will forgive him all his sins against me." then i fell asleep, to dream that i was a rival of st. george chasing a dragon over the seats of the colosseum; to find, when i had run him to earth, that he had assumed human shape, and was no other than my old friend the dean of bedminster. next morning the young couple's behaviour at breakfast was circumspection itself. the worthy old dean ate his breakfast unconscious of the shell that was to be dropped into his camp an hour later, while my wife purred approval over the teapot. meanwhile i wondered what nikola would have to say when he heard of the engagement. after the meal was over we left the duke and dean together. somehow, i don't think glenbarth was exactly at his ease, but when he reappeared half-an-hour later and shook me by the hand, he vowed that the old gentleman was the biggest trump in the world, and that i was the next. from this i gathered that the matter had been satisfactorily settled, and that, so far as parental consent was concerned, miss gertrude trevor was likely to become the duchess of glenbarth without any unnecessary delay. though there was not much time to spare before our train started, there was still sufficient for the lovers to make a journey to the piazza di trevi, where a magnificent diamond ring was purchased to celebrate the engagement. a bracelet that would have made any woman's mouth water was also dedicated to the same purpose. a memorial bracelet on the etruscan model was next purchased for my wife, and was handed to her later on by her grateful friends. "you did so much for us," said the duke simply, when miss trevor made the presentation. my lady thereupon kissed miss trevor and thanked the duke, while i looked on in amazement. "come, now," i said, "i call that scarcely fair. is the poor dragon to receive nothing? i was under the impression that i had done more than any one to bring about this happy result." "you shall have our gratitude," miss trevor replied. "that would be so nice, wouldn't it?" "we'll see what the duke says in five years," i answered, and with this parthian shot i left them. next morning we reached venice. the journey had been a very pleasant one, but i must say that i was not sorry when it was over. the picture of two young lovers, gazing with devotion into each other's eyes hour after hour, is apt to pall upon one. we had left mestre behind us, and were approaching the bridge i have described before as connecting venice with the mainland, when i noticed that gertrude trevor had suddenly become silent and preoccupied. she had a headache, she declared to my wife, but thought it would soon pass off. on reaching the railway-station we chartered a barca to take us to our hotel. when we reached it, galaghetti was on the steps to receive us. his honest face beamed with satisfaction, and the compliments he paid my wife when she set foot upon the steps, were such as to cover her with confusion. i directed my party to go up-stairs, and then drew the old man on one side. "don josè de martinos?" i asked, knowing that it was sufficient merely to mention his name. "he is gone, my lord," galaghetti replied. "since he was a friend of yours, i am sorry i could keep him no longer. perhaps your lordship does not know that he has gambled all his money away, and that he has not even enough left to discharge his indebtedness to me." "i certainly did not know it," i replied. "and i am sorry to hear it. where is he now?" "i could not say," galaghetti replied. "but doubtless i could find out if your lordship desires to know." "you need not do that," i answered. "i merely asked out of curiosity. don martinos was no friend of mine." then, bidding him good-day, i made my way up-stairs, turning over in my mind what i had heard. i was not at all surprised to hear that the don had come to grief, though i had not expected that the catastrophe would happen in so short a time. it was satisfactory to know, however, that in all probability he would never trouble us again. that afternoon, according to custom, we spent an hour at florian's _café_. the duke and gertrude strolled up and down, while my wife drew my attention to their happiness. i had on several occasions sang glenbarth's praises to the dean, and as a result the old gentleman was charmed with his future son-in-law, and seemed to think that the summit of his ambition had been achieved. during our sojourn on the piazza i kept my eyes open, for i was in hopes of seeing nikola, but i saw nothing of him. if i was not successful in that way, however, i was more so in another. i had found a budget of letters awaiting me on my return from rome, and as two of them necessitated my sending telegrams to england, i allowed the rest of the party to return to hotel by boat, while i made my way to the telegraph-office. having sent them off, i walked on to the rio del barcaroli, engaged a gondola there, and was about to step into it, when i became aware of a man watching me. he proved to be none other than the spaniard, don martinos, but so great was the change in him that for a moment i scarcely recognized him. though only a fortnight had elapsed since i had last seen him, he had shrunk to what was only a shadow of his former self. his face was of a pasty, fishy whiteness, and his eyes had a light in them that i had not seen there before. for the moment i thought he had been drinking, and that his unnatural appearance was the result. remembering his murderous intention on the morning of the frustrated duel, i felt inclined not to speak to him. my pity, however, got the better of me, and i bade him good-day. he did not return my salutation, however, but looked at me as if i were some one he had seen before, but could not remember where. i then addressed him by name. in reply he beckoned to me to follow him out of earshot of the gondolier. "i cannot remember your name," he said, gripping me by the arm, "but i know that i have met you before. i cannot remember anything now because--because----" here he paused and put his hand to his forehead as if he were in pain. i endeavoured to make him understand who i was, but without success. he shook his head and looked at me, talking for a moment in italian, then in spanish, with interludes of english. a more pitiable condition for a man to get into could scarcely be imagined. at last i tried him with a question i thought might have some effect upon him. "have you met doctor nikola lately?" i inquired. the effect it produced upon him was instantaneous. he shrunk from me as if he had been struck, and, leaning against the wall of the house behind him, trembled like an aspen leaf. for a man usually so self-assertive--one might almost say so aggressive--here was a terrible change. i was more than ever at a loss to account for it. he was the last man i should have thought would have been taken in such a way. "don't tell him; you must not tell him, promise me that you will not do so," he whispered in english. "he would punish me if he knew, and--and----" here he fell to whimpering like a child who feared chastisement. it was not a pretty exhibition, and i was more shocked by it than i can say. at this juncture i remembered the fact that he was without means, and as my heart had been touched by his pathetic condition, i was anxious to render him such assistance as was in my power. for this reason i endeavoured to press a loan upon him, telling him that he could repay me when things brightened. "no, no," he answered, with a flash of his old spirit; then he added in a whisper, "he would know of it!" "who would know of it?" i asked. "doctor nikola," he answered. then laying his hand upon my arm again, and placing his mouth close to my ear as if he were anxious to make sure that no one else should hear, he went on, "i would rather die of starvation in the streets than fall into his hands. look at me," he continued, after a moment's pause. "look what i am! i tell you he has got me body and soul. i cannot escape from him. i have no will but his, and he is killing me inch by inch. i have tried to escape, but it is impossible. if i were on the other side of the world and he wanted me i should be obliged to come." then with another change as swift as thought he began to defy nikola, vowing that he _would_ go away, and that nothing should ever induce him to see him again. but a moment later he was back in his old condition once more. "farewell, senor," he whispered. "i must be going. there is no time to lose. he is awaiting me." "but you have not told me where you are living now?" "cannot you guess?" he answered, still in the same curious voice. "my home is the palace revecce in the rio del consiglio." here was surprise indeed! the don had gone to live with nikola. was it kindness that had induced the latter to take him in? if not, what were his reasons for so doing? chapter xii as may be supposed my meeting with the don afforded me abundant food for reflection. was it true, as he had said, that in his hour of distress nikola had afforded him an asylum? and if so, why was the latter doing so? i knew nikola too well by this time to doubt that he had some good and sufficient reason for his action. lurking at the back of my mind was a hideous suspicion that, although i tried my hardest not to think of it, would not allow itself to be banished altogether. i could not but remember the story nikola had told me on that eventful evening concerning his early life, and the chance remark he had let fall one day that he knew more about the man, don martinos, than i supposed, only tended to confirm it. if that were so, and he still cherished, as i had not the least doubt he did--for nikola was one who never forgave or forgot,--the same undying hatred and desire for vengeance against his old enemy, the son of his mother's betrayer, then there was--but here i was compelled to stop. i could not go on. the death-like face of the man i had just left rose before my mind's eye like an accusing angel, whereupon i made a resolution that i would think no more of him nor would i say anything to any member of our party concerning my meeting with him that afternoon. it is superfluous to remark that the latter resolve was more easily kept than the former. the first dinner in venice after our return was far from being a success. miss gertrude's headache, instead of leaving her, had become so bad that she was compelled to go forthwith to bed, leaving glenbarth in despair, and the rest of our party as low-spirited as possible. next morning she declared she was a little better, though she complained of having passed a wretched night. "i had such horrible dreams," she told my wife, "that when i woke up i scarcely dared close my eyes again." "i cannot remember quite what she said she dreamt," said phyllis when she told me the story; "but i know that it had something to do with doctor nikola and his dreadful house, and that it frightened her terribly." the girl certainly looked pale and haggard, and not a bit like the happy creature who had stepped into the train at rome. "heaven grant that there is not more trouble ahead," i said to myself, as i smoked my pipe and thought over the matter. "i am beginning to wish we had not come to venice at all. in that case we should not have seen nikola or the don, miss trevor would not have been in this state, and i should not have been haunted day and night with this horrible suspicion of foul play." it was no use, however, talking of what might or might not have happened. it was sufficient that the things i have narrated _had_ come to pass, and i must endeavour to derive what satisfaction i could from the reflection that i had done all that was possible under the circumstances. on the day following our return to venice, the dean of bedminster set off for england. i fancy he was sorry to go, and of one thing i am quite sure, and that was that we regretted losing him. it was arranged that, as soon as we returned to england, we should pay him a visit at bedminster, and that the duke should accompany us. transparently honest though he was in all things, i fancy the old gentleman had a touch of vanity in his composition, and i could quite understand that he would be anxious to show off his future son-in-law before the society of his quiet cathedral town. on the night following his departure, i had the most terrible dream i have had in my life. though some time has elapsed since then, i can still recall the fright it gave me. my wife declares that she could see the effect of it upon my face for more than a day afterwards. but this, i think, is going a little too far. i am willing, however, to admit that it made a very great impression upon me at the time--the more so for the reason that it touched my thought, and i was quite at a loss to understand it. it was night, i remember, and i had just entered the palace revecce. i must have been invisible, for, though i stood in the room with nikola, he did not appear to be aware of my presence. as usual he was at work upon some of his chemical experiments. then i looked at his face, and saw that it wore an expression that i had never seen there before. i can describe it best by saying that it was one of absolute cruelty, unrelieved by even the smallest gleam of pity. and yet it was not cruelty in the accepted meaning of the word, so much as an overwhelming desire to punish and avenge. i am quite aware, on reading over what i have just written, that my inability to convey the exact impression renders my meaning obscure. yet i can do no more. it was a look beyond the power of my pen to describe. presently he put down the glass he held in his hand, and looked up with his head a little on one side, as if he were listening for some sound in the adjoining room. there was a shuffling footstep in the corridor outside, and then the door opened and there entered a figure so awful that i shrank back from it appalled. it was don martinos, and yet it was not the don. the face and the height were perhaps the same, but the man himself was--oh, so different. on seeing nikola he shambled forward, rather than walked, and dropped in a heap at his feet, clutching at his knees, and making a feeble whining noise, not unlike that of an animal in pain. "get up," said nikola sternly, and as he said it he pointed to a couch on the further side of the room. [illustration: "he crawled upon the floor like a dog."] the man went and stretched himself out upon it as if in obedience to some unspoken command. nikola followed him, and having exposed the other's chest, took from the table what looked like a hypodermic syringe, filled it from one of the graduated glasses upon the table, and injected the contents beneath the prostrate man's skin. an immediate and violent fit of trembling was the result, followed by awful contortions of the face. then suddenly he stiffened himself out and lay like one dead. taking his watch from his pocket nikola made a careful note of the time. so vivid was my dream that i can even remember hearing the ticking of the watch. minute after minute went by, until at last the don opened his eyes. then i realized that the man was no longer a human being, but an animal. he uttered horrible noises in his throat, that were not unlike the short, sharp bark of a wolf, and when nikola bade him move he crawled upon the floor like a dog. after that he retreated to a corner, where he crouched and glowered upon his master, as if he were prepared at any moment to spring upon him and drag him down. as one throws a bone to a dog so did nikola toss him food. he devoured it ravenously, as would a starving cur. there was foam at the corners of his mouth, and the light of madness in his eyes. nikola returned to the table and began to pour some liquid into a glass. so busily occupied was he, that he did not see the thing, i cannot call it a man, in the corner, get on to his feet. he had taken up a small tube and was stirring the contents of the glass with it, when the other was less than a couple of feet from him. i tried to warn him of his danger, only to find that i could not utter a word. then the object sprang upon him and clawed at his throat. he turned, and, a moment later, the madman was lying, whining feebly, upon the floor, and nikola was wiping the blood from a scratch on the left-hand side of his throat. at that moment i awoke to find myself sitting up in bed, with the perspiration streaming down my face. "i have had such an awful dream!" i said, in answer to my wife's startled inquiry as to what was the matter. "i don't know that i have ever been so frightened before." "you are trembling now," said my wife. "try not to think of it, dear. remember it was only a dream." that it was something more than a mere dream i felt certain. it was so complete and dovetailed so exactly with my horrible suspicions that i could not altogether consign it to the realms of fancy. fearing a repetition if i attempted to go to sleep again, i switched on the electric light and endeavoured to interest myself in a book, but it was of no use. the face of the poor brute i had seen crouching in the corner haunted me continually, and would not be dispelled. never in my life before had i been so thankful to see the dawn. at breakfast my wife commented upon my dream. miss trevor, however, said nothing. she became quieter and more distracted every day. towards the evening glenbarth spoke to me concerning her. "i don't know what to make of it all," he said anxiously. "she assures me that she is perfectly well and happy, but seeing the condition she is in, i can scarcely believe that. it is as much as i can do to get a word out of her. if i didn't know that she loves me i should begin to imagine that she regretted having promised to be my wife." "i don't think you need be afraid of that," i answered. "one has only to look at her face to see how deeply attached she is to you. the truth of the whole matter is, my dear fellow, i have come to the conclusion that we have had enough of venice. nikola is at the bottom of our troubles, and the sooner we see the last of him the better it will be for all parties concerned." "hear, hear, to that," he answered fervently. "deeply grateful though i am to him for what he did when gertrude was ill, i can honestly say that i never want to see him again." at luncheon that day i accordingly broached the subject of our return to england. it was received by my wife and the duke with unfeigned satisfaction, and by miss trevor with what appeared to be approval. it struck me, however, that she did not seem so anxious to leave as i expected she would be. this somewhat puzzled me, but i was not destined to remain very long in ignorance of the reason. that afternoon i happened to be left alone with her for some little time. we talked for a while on a variety of topics, but i could see all the time that there was something she was desirous of saying to me, though she could not quite make up her mind how to commence. at last she rose, and crossing the room took a chair by my side. "sir richard, i am going to ask a favour of you," she said, with a far-away look in her eyes. "let me assure you that it is granted before you ask it," i replied. "will you tell me what it is?" "it may appear strange to you," she said, "but i have a conviction, absurd, superstitious, or whatever you may term it, that some great misfortune will befall me if i leave venice just yet. i am not my own mistress, and must stay. i want you to arrange it." this was a nice sort of shell to have dropped into one's camp, particularly at such a time and under such circumstances, and i scarcely knew what reply to make. "but what possible misfortune could befall you?" i asked. "i cannot say," she replied. "i am only certain that i must remain for a little while longer. you can have no idea what i have suffered lately. bear with me, sir richard." here she lifted a face of piteous entreaty to me, which i was powerless to resist, adding, "i implore you not to be angry with me." "is it likely that i should be angry with you, miss gertrude?" i replied. "why should i be? if you really desire to remain for a little longer there is nothing to prevent it. but you must not allow yourself to become ill again. believe me it is only your imagination that is playing tricks with you." "ah! you do not know everything," she answered. "every night i have such terrible dreams that i have come to dread going to bed." i thought of my own dream on the previous night, and could well understand how she felt. after her last remark she was silent for some moments. that there was something still to come, i could see, but what it was i had no more idea than a child. at last she spoke. "sir richard," she said, "would you mind very much if i were to ask you a most important question? i scarcely like to do so, but i know that you are my friend, and that you will give me good advice." "i will endeavour to do so," i replied. "what is the question you wish to ask me?" "it is about my engagement," she replied. "you know how good and unselfish the duke is, and how truly he believes in me. i could not bear to bring trouble upon him, but in love there should be no secrets--nothing should be hidden one from the other. yet i feel that i am hiding so much--can you understand what i mean?" "in a great measure," i answered, "but i should like to do so thoroughly. miss gertrude, if i may hazard a guess, i should say that you have been dreaming about doctor nikola again?" "yes," she answered after a moment's hesitation. "absurd though it may be, i can think of no one else. he weighs upon my spirits like lead, and yet i know that i should be grateful to him for all he did for me when i was so ill. but for him i should not be alive now." "i am afraid that you have been allowing the thought of your recent danger to lie too heavily upon your mind," i continued. "remember that this is the nineteenth century, and that there are no such things as you think nikola would have you believe." "when i know that there are?" she asked, looking at me reproachfully. "ah, sir richard," she continued, "if you knew all that i do you would pity me. but no one will ever know, and i cannot tell them. but one thing is quite certain. i must stay in venice for the present--happen what may. something tells me so, day and night. and when i think of the duke my heart well-nigh breaks for fear i should bring trouble upon him." i did my best to comfort her; promised that if she really desired to remain in venice i would arrange it for her, and by so doing committed myself to a policy that i very well knew, when i came to consider it later, was not expedient, and very far from being judicious. regarded seriously in a sober commonplace light, the whole affair seems too absurd, and yet at the time nothing could possibly have been more real or earnest. when she had heard me out, she thanked me very prettily for the interest i had taken, and then with a little sigh, that went to my heart, left the room. later in the afternoon i broke the news to my wife, and told her of the promise i had given gertrude. "but what does it all mean, dick?" she asked, looking at me with startled eyes. "what is it she fears will happen if she goes away from venice?" "that is what i cannot get her to say," i replied. "indeed i am not altogether certain that she knows herself. it's a most perplexing business, and i wish to goodness i had never had anything to do with it. the better plan, i think, would be to humour her, keep her as cheerful as we can, and when the proper time arrives, get her away from venice and home to england as quickly as we can." my wife agreed with me on this point, and our course of action was thereupon settled. later in the afternoon i made a resolution. my own suspicions concerning the wretched martinos were growing so intolerable that i could bear them no longer. the memory of the dream i had had on the previous night was never absent from my thoughts, and i felt that unless i could set matters right once and for all, and convince myself that they were not as i suspected with anstruther's friend, i should be unable to close my eyes when next i went to bed. for this reason i determined to set off to the palace revecce at once, and to have an interview with nikola in the hope of being able to extort some information from him. "perhaps after all," i argued, "i am worrying myself unnecessarily. there may be no connection between martinos and that south american." i determined, however, to set the matter at rest that afternoon. accordingly at four o'clock i made an excuse and departed for the rio del consiglio. it was a dark, cloudy afternoon, and the house, as i approached it, looked drearier, if such a thing were possible, than i had ever seen it. i disembarked from my gondola at the steps, and having bade the man wait for me, which he did on the other side of the street, i rang the bell. the same old servant whom i remembered having seen on a previous occasion answered it, and informed me that his master was not at home, but that he expected him every minute. i determined to wait for him and ascended the stairs to his room. the windows were open, and from where i stood i could watch the gondolier placidly eating his bread and onions on the other side of the street. so far as i could see there was no change in the room itself. the centre table as usual was littered with papers and books, that near the window was covered with chemical apparatus, while the old black cat was fast asleep upon the couch on the other side. the oriental rug, described in another place, covered the ominous trap-door so that no portion of it could be seen. i was still standing at the window looking down upon the canal below, when the door at the further end softly opened and a face looked in at me. good heavens! i can even now feel the horror which swept over me. it was the countenance of don martinos, but so changed, even from what it had been when i had seen him in the rio del barcaroli, that i scarcely recognized it. it was like the face of an animal and of a madman, if such could be combined. he looked at me and then withdrew, closing the door behind him, only to re-open it a few moments later. having apparently made sure that i was alone, he crept in, and, crossing the room, approached me. for a moment i was at a loss how to act. i was not afraid that the poor wretch might do me any mischief, but my whole being shrank from him with a physical revulsion beyond all description in words. i can understand now something of the dislike my wife and the duke declared they entertained for him. on tip-toe, with his finger to his lips, as if to enjoin silence, he crept towards me, muttering something in spanish that i could not understand; then in english he continued-- "hush, senor, cannot you see them?" he pointed his hand in various directions as if he could see the figures of men and women moving about the apartment. once he bowed low as if to some imaginary dignitary, drawing back at the same time, as if to permit him to pass. then turning to me he continued, "do you know who that is? no! then i will tell you. senor, that is the most noble admiral revecce, the owner of this house." then for a short time he stood silent, picking feebly at his fingers and regarding me ever and anon from the corner of his eye. suddenly there was a sharp quick step in the corridor outside, the handle of the door turned, and nikola entered the room. as his glance fell upon the wretched being at my side a look not unlike that i had seen in my dream flashed into his countenance. it was gone again, however, as suddenly as it had come, and he was advancing to greet me with all his old politeness. it was then that the folly of my errand was borne in upon me. even if my suspicions were correct what could i do, and what chance could i hope to have of being able to induce nikola to confide in me? meanwhile he had pointed to the door, and martinos, trembling in every limb, was slinking towards it like a whipped hound. at that moment i made a discovery that i confess came near to depriving me of my presence of mind altogether. you can judge of its value for yourself when i say, that extending to the lobe of nikola's left ear half-way down and across his throat was a newly-made scar, just such an one, in fact, as would be made by a hand with sharp finger-nails clutching at it. could my dream have been true, after all? "i cannot tell you how delighted i am to see you, my dear sir richard," said nikola as he seated himself. "i understood that you had returned to venice." having out-grown the desire to learn how nikola had become aware of anything, i merely agreed that we had returned, and then took the chair he offered me. when all the circumstances are taken into consideration, i really think that that moment was certainly the most embarrassing of my life. nikola's eyes were fixed steadily upon mine, and i could see in them what was almost an expression of malicious amusement. as usual he was making capital out of my awkwardness, and as i knew that i could do no good, i felt that there was nothing for it but for me to submit. then the miserable spaniard's face rose before my mind's eye, and i felt that i could not abandon him, without an effort, to what i knew would be his fate. nikola brought me up to the mark even quicker than i expected. "it is very plain," he said, with a satirical smile playing round his thin lips, "that you have come with the intention of saying something important to me. what is it?" at this i rose from my chair and went across the room to where he was sitting. placing my hand upon his shoulder i looked down into his face, took courage, and began. "doctor nikola," i said, "you and i have known each other for many years now. we have seen some strange things together, one of us perhaps less willingly than the other. but i venture to think, however, that we have never stood on stranger or more dangerous ground than we do to-night." "i am afraid i am scarcely able to follow your meaning," he replied. i knew that this was not the case, but i was equally convinced that to argue the question with him would be worse than useless. "do you remember the night on which you told me that story concerning the woman who lived in this house, who was betrayed by the spaniard, and who died on that spanish island?" i asked. he rose hurriedly from his chair and went to the window. i heard him catch his breath, and knew that i had moved him at last. "what of it?" he inquired, turning on me sharply as he spoke. "only that i have come to see you concerning the _dénouement_ of that story," i answered. "i have come because i cannot possibly stay away. you have no idea how deeply i have been thinking over this matter. do you think i cannot see through it and read between the lines? you told it to me because in some inscrutable fashion of your own you had become aware that don martinos would bring a letter of introduction to me from my friend anstruther. remember it was i who introduced him to you! do you think that i did not notice the expression that came into your face whenever you looked at him? later my suspicions were aroused. the don was a spaniard, he was rich, and he had made the mistake of admitting that while he had been in chili he had never been in equinata. you persuaded me to bring him to this house, and here you obtained your first influence over him." "my dear hatteras," said nikola, "you are presupposing a great deal. and you get beyond my depth. don't you think it would be wiser if you were to stick to plain facts?" "my suppositions are stronger than my facts," i answered. "you laid yourself out to meet him, and your influence over him became greater every day. it could be seen in his face. he was fascinated, and could not escape. then he began to gamble, and found his money slipping through his fingers like water through a sieve." "you have come to the conclusion, then, that i am responsible for that also?" "i do not say that it was your doing exactly," i said, gathering courage from the calmness of his manner and the attention he was giving me. "but it fits in too well with the whole scheme to free you entirely from responsibility. then look at the change that began to come over the man himself. his faculties were leaving him one by one, being wiped out, just as a school-boy wipes his lesson from a slate. if he had been an old man i should have said that it was the commencement of his second childhood; but he is still a comparatively young man." "you forget that while he had been gambling he had also been drinking heavily. may not debauchery tell its own tale?" "it is not debauchery that has brought about this terrible change. who knows that better than yourself? after the duel, which you providentially prevented, we went to rome for a fortnight. on the afternoon of our return i met him near the telegraph-office. at first glance i scarcely recognized him, so terrible was the change in his appearance. if ever a poor wretch was on the verge of idiotcy he was that one. moreover, he informed me that he was living with you. why should the fact that he was so doing produce such a result? i cannot say! i dare not try to understand it! but, for pity's sake, nikola, by all you hold dear i implore you to solve the riddle. last night i had a dream!" "you are perhaps a believer in dreams?" he remarked very quietly, as if the question scarcely interested him. "this dream was of a description such as i have never had in my life before," i answered, disregarding the sneer, and then told it to him, increasing rather than lessening the abominable details. he heard me out without moving a muscle of his face, and it was only when i had reached the climax and paused that he spoke. "this is a strange rigmarole you tell me," he said. "fortunately you confess that it was only a dream." "doctor nikola," i cried, "it was more than a dream. to prove it, let me ask you how you received that long scratch that shows upon your neck and throat?" i pointed my finger at it, but nikola returned my gaze still without a flicker of his eyelids. "what if i do admit it?" he began. "what if your dream were correct? what difference would it make?" i looked at him in amazement. to tell the truth i was more astonished by his admission of the correctness of my suspicions than i should have been had he denied them altogether. as it was, i was too much overcome to be able to answer him for a few moments. "come," he said, "answer my question. what if i do admit the truth of all you say?" "you confess then that the whole business has been one long scheme to entrap this wretched man, and to get him into your power?" "'tis," he answered, still keeping his eyes fixed upon me. "you see i am candid! go on!" my brain began to reel under the strain placed upon it. since he had owned to it, what was i to do? what could i say? "sir richard hatteras," said nikola, approaching a little nearer to me, resting one hand upon the table and speaking very impressively, "i wonder if it has struck you that you are a brave man to come to me to-day and to say this to me? in the whole circle of the men i know i may declare with truth that i am not aware of one other who would do so much. what is this man to you that you should befriend him? he would have robbed you of your dearest friend without a second thought, as he would rob you of your wife if the idea occurred to him. he is without bowels of compassion; the blood of thousands stains his hands and cries aloud for vengeance. he is a fugitive from justice, a thief, a liar, and a traitor to the country he swore to govern as an honest man. on a certain little island on the other side of the world there is a lonely churchyard, and in that churchyard a still lonelier grave. in it lies the body of a woman--my mother. in this very room that woman was betrayed by his father. so in this room also shall that betrayal be avenged. i have waited all my life; the opportunity has been long in coming. now, however, it has arrived, and i am decreed by fate to be the instrument of vengeance!" i am a tall man, but as he said this nikola seemed to tower over me, his face set hard as a rock, his eyes blazing like living coals, and his voice trembling under the influence of his passion. little by little i was growing to think as he did, and to look upon martinos as he saw him. "but this cannot go--it cannot go on," i repeated, in a last feeble protest against the horror of the thing. "surely you could not find it in your heart to treat a fellow-creature so?" "he is no fellow-creature of yours or mine," nikola retorted sternly, as if he were rebuking a childish mistake. "would you call the man who shot down those innocent young men of equinata, before their mothers' eyes, a fellow-creature? is it possible that the son of the man who so cruelly wronged and betrayed the trusting woman he first saw in this room, who led her across the seas to desert her, and to send her to her grave, could be called a man? i will give you one more instance of his barbarity." so saying, he threw off the black velvet coat he was wearing, and drawing up his right shirt-sleeve, bade me examine his arm. i saw that from the shoulder to the elbow it was covered with the scars of old wounds, strange white marks, in pairs, and each about half-an-inch long. "those scars," he went on, "were made by his orders, and with hot pincers, when i was a boy. and as his negro servants made them he laughed and taunted me with my mother's shame. no! no! this is no man--rather a dangerous animal, that were best out of the way. it has been told me that you and i shall only meet twice more. let those meetings lead you to think better of me. the time is not far distant when i must leave the world! when that hour arrives there is a lonely monastery in a range of eastern mountains, upon which no englishman has ever set his foot. of that monastery i shall become an inmate. no one outside its walls will ever look upon my face again. there i shall work out my destiny, and, if i have sinned, be sure i shall receive my punishment at those hands that alone can bestow it. now leave me!" god help me for the coward i am, but the fact remains that i left him without another word. chapter xiii if i were offered my heart's desire in return for so doing, i could not tell you how i got home after my interview with nikola at the palace revecce. i was unconscious of everything save that i had gone to nikola's house in the hope of being able to save the life of a man, whom i had the best of reasons for hating, and that at the last moment i had turned coward and fled the field. no humiliation could have been more complete. nikola had won a victory, and i knew it, and despaired of retrieving it. on reaching the hotel i was about to disembark from my gondola, when a voice hailed me from another craft, proceeding in the direction i had come. "dick hatteras, as i'm a sinner!" it cried. "don't you know me, dick?" i turned to see a face i well remembered smiling at me from the gondola. i immediately bade my own man put me out into the stream, which he did, and presently the two gondolas lay side by side. the man who had hailed me was none other than george beckworth, a queensland sugar-planter, with whom i had been on terms of the most intimate friendship in bygone days. and as there was a lady seated beside him, i derived the impression that he had married since i had last seen him. "this is indeed a surprise," he said, as we shook hands. "by the way, let me introduce you to my wife, dick." he said this with all the pride of a newly-married man. "my dear, this is my old friend, dick hatteras, of whom i have so often spoken to you. what are you doing in venice, dick?" "i have my wife and some friends travelling with me," i answered. "we are staying at galaghetti's hotel yonder. cannot you and your wife dine with us to-night?" "impossible, i am afraid," he answered. "we sail to-night in the p. and o. boat. won't you come and dine with us?" "that is equally impossible," i replied. "we have friends with us. but i should like to see something more of you before you go, and if you will allow me i'll run down after dinner for a chat about old times." "i shall be delighted," he answered. "be sure that you do not forget it." having assured him that i would not permit it to escape my memory, i bade him "good-bye," and then returned to my hotel. a more fortunate meeting could scarcely have occurred, for now i was furnished with an excellent excuse for leaving my party, and for being alone for a time. once more i felt that i was a coward for not daring to face my fellow-men. under the circumstances, however, i knew that it was impossible. i could no more have spent the evening listening to glenbarth's happy laughter than i could have jumped the grand canal. for the time being the society of my fellow-creatures was absolutely distasteful to me. on ascending to my rooms i discovered my wife and the duke in the drawing-room, and was informed by the latter that miss trevor had again been compelled to retire to her room with a severe headache. "in that case i am afraid you will only be a small party for dinner," i said. "i am going to ask you to excuse me. you have often heard me speak, my dear, of george beckworth, the queensland sugar-planter, with whom i used to be on such friendly terms in the old days?" my wife admitted that she remembered hearing me speak of the gentleman in question. "well, he is in venice," i replied, "and he sails to-night by the p. and o. boat for colombo. as it is the last time i shall be likely to see him for many years, i feel sure you will not mind my accepting his invitation?" "of course not, if the duke will excuse you," she said, and, when the question was put to him, glenbarth willingly consented to do so. i accordingly went to my room to make my toilet. then, having bade my wife "good-bye," i chartered a gondola and ordered the man to row me to the piazza of saint mark. thence i set off for a walk through the city, caring little in which way i went. it was growing dark by this time, and i knew there was little chance of my being recognized, or of my recognizing any one else. all the time, however, my memory was haunted by the recollection of that room at the palace revecce, and of what was in all probability going on in it. my gorge rose at the idea--all my manhood revolted from it. a loathing of nikola, such as i had never known before, was succeeded by a deathly chill, as i realized how impotent i was to avert the catastrophe. what could i do? to have attempted to stay him in his course would have been worse than useless, while to have appealed to the authorities would only have had the effect of putting myself in direct opposition to him, and who knew what would happen then? i looked at it from another point of view. why should i be so anxious to interfere on the wretched spaniard's behalf? i had seen his murderous intention on the morning of the frustrated duel; i had heard from nikola of the assassination of those unfortunate lads in equinata; moreover, i was well aware that he was a thief, and also a traitor to his country. why should he not be punished as he deserved, and why should not nikola be his executioner? i endeavoured to convince myself that this was only fit and proper retribution, but this argument was no more successful than the last had been. arguing in this way i walked on and on, turning to right or left, just as the fancy took me. presently i found myself in a portion of the town into which i had never hitherto penetrated. at the moment of which i am about to write, i was standing in a narrow lane, paved with large stones, having high dismal houses on either hand. suddenly an old man turned the corner and approached me. as he passed, i saw his face, and recognized an individual to whom nikola had spoken in the little church on that memorable evening when he had taken us on a tour of inspection through the city. he was visibly agitated, and was moreover in hot haste. for some reason that i cannot explain, nor, i suppose, shall i ever be able to do so, an intense desire to follow him took possession of me. it must have been more than a desire, for i felt that i must go with him whether i wished to or not. i accordingly dived into the house after him, and followed him along the passage and up the rickety flight of stairs that ascended from it. having attained one floor we continued our ascent; the sounds of voices reached us from the different rooms, but we saw no one. on the second landing the old man paused before a door, opened it very softly, and entered. i followed him, and looked about me. it was a pathetic scene that met my eyes. the room was a poor one, and scantily furnished. a rough table and a narrow bed were its only furniture. on the latter a young man was lying, and kneeling on the floor beside him, holding the thin hands in his own, was no less a person than doctor nikola himself. i saw that he was aware of my presence, but he took no more notice of me than if i had not existed. "you called me too late, my poor antonio," he said, addressing the old man i had followed. "nothing can save him now. he was dying when i arrived." on hearing this the old man fell on his knees beside the bed and burst into a flood of weeping. nikola placed his hand with a kindly gesture upon the other's shoulder, and at the moment that he did so the man upon the bed expired. "do not grieve for him, my friend," said nikola. "believe me, it was hopeless from the first. he is better as it is." then, with all the gentleness of a woman, he proceeded to comfort the old man, whose only son lay dead upon the bed. i knew no more of the story than what i had seen, nor have i heard more of it since, but i had been permitted to see another side of his character, and one which, in the light of existing circumstances, was not to be denied. he had scarcely finished his kindly offices before there was a heavy step outside, and a black-browed priest entered the room. he looked from nikola to myself, and then at the dead man upon the bed. "farewell, my good antonio," said nikola. "have no fear. remember that your future is my care." then, having said something in an undertone to the priest, he placed his hand upon my arm and led me from the room. when we had left them he murmured in a voice not unlike that in which he had addressed the old man, "hatteras, this is another lesson. is it so difficult to learn?" i do not pretend that i made any answer. we passed down the stairs together, and, when we reached the street, stood for a moment at the house-door. "you will not be able to understand me," he said; "nevertheless, i tell you that the end is brought nearer by that one scene. it will not be long before it comes now. all things considered, i do not know that i shall regret it." then, without another word, he strode away into the darkness, leaving me to place what construction i pleased upon his last speech. for some moments i stood where he had left me, pondering over his words, and then set off in the direction i had come. as may be imagined, i felt even less inclined than before for the happy, jovial party i knew i should find on board the steamer, but i had given my promise, and could not get out of it. when i reached the piazza of st. mark once more i went to the steps and hailed a gondola, telling the man to take me to the p. and o. vessel then lying at anchor in the harbour. he did so, and i made my way up the accommodation-ladder to the deck above, to find that the passengers in the first saloon had just finished their dinner, and were making their appearance on the promenade deck. i inquired of the steward for mr. beckworth, and discovered him in the act of lighting a cigar at the smoking-room door. he greeted me effusively, and begged me to remain where i was while he went in search of his wife. when she arrived, i found her to be a pretty little woman, with big brown eyes, and a sympathetic manner. she was good enough to say that she had heard such a lot concerning me from her husband, and had always looked forward to making my acquaintance. i accepted a cigar from beckworth's case, and we then adjourned to the smoking-room for a long talk together. when we had comfortably installed ourselves, my friend's flow of conversation commenced, and i was made aware of all the principal events that had occurred in queensland since my departure, was favoured with his opinion of england, which he had never before visited, and was furnished with the details as to how he had met his wife, and of the happy event with which their courtship had been concluded. "altogether," he said, "taking one thing with another, i don't know that you'd be able to find a much happier fellow in the world than i am at this moment." i said i was glad to hear it, and as i did so contrasted his breezy, happy-go-lucky manner with those of certain other people i had been brought in contact with that day. my interview with him must have done me good, for i stayed on, and the hour was consequently late when i left the ship. indeed, it wanted only a few minutes of eleven o'clock as i went down the accommodation-ladder to the gondola, which i had ordered to come for me at ten. "galaghetti's hotel," i said to the man, "and as quickly as you can." when i had bade my friends "good-bye" and left the ship, i felt comparatively cheerful, but no sooner had the silence of venice closed in upon me again than all my old despondency returned to me. a foreboding of coming misfortune settled upon me, and do what i would i could not shake it off. when i reached the hotel i found that my party had retired to rest. my wife was sleeping quietly, and not feeling inclined for bed, and dreading lest if i did go i might be assailed by more dreams of a similar description to that i had had on the previous night, i resolved to go back to the drawing-room and read there for a time. this plan i carried into execution, and taking up a new book in which i was very much interested, seated myself in an easy-chair and determined to peruse it. i found some difficulty, however, in concentrating my attention upon it. my thoughts continually reverted to my interview that afternoon with nikola, and also to the scene i had witnessed in the poorer quarter after dark. i suppose eventually i must have fallen asleep, for i remember nothing else until i awoke to find myself sitting up and listening to a light step in the corridor outside. i looked at my watch to discover that the time was exactly a quarter to one. in that case, as we monopolized the whole of the corridor, who could it be? in order to find out i went to the door, and softly opened it. a dim light was always left in the passage throughout the night, and by it i was able to see a tall and graceful figure, which i instantly recognized, making for the secondary stairs at the further end. now these stairs, so i had been given to understand, led to another portion of the hotel into which i had never penetrated. why, therefore, miss trevor was using them at such an hour, and, above all, dressed for going out, i could not for the life of me determine. i could see that, if i was anxious to find out, i must be quick; so, turning swiftly into the room again, i picked up my hat and set off in pursuit. as the sequel will prove, it was, perhaps, as well that i did so. by the time i reached the top of the stairs she was at the bottom, and was speeding along another passage to the right. at the end of this was a door, the fastenings of which she undid, with an ease and assurance that bewildered me. so certain was she of her whereabouts, and so easily did she manipulate the heavy door, that i felt inclined to believe that she must have used that passage many times before. at last she opened it and passed out into the darkness, drawing it to after her. i had paused to watch her; now i hastened on even faster than before, fearing that, if i were not careful, i might lose her outside. having passed the door i found myself in a narrow lane, bounded on either side by high walls, and some fifty or sixty yards in extent. the lane, in its turn, opened into a small square, out of which led two or three other narrow streets. she turned to the left and passed down one of these; i followed close upon her heels. of all the strange experiences to which our stay in venice had given rise, this was certainly one of the most remarkable. that gertrude trevor, the honest english girl, the daughter of a dignitary of the church and a prospective bishop, should leave her hotel in the middle of the night in order to wander about streets with which she was most imperfectly acquainted, was a mystery i found difficult to solve. when she had crossed a bridge, which spanned a small canal, she once more turned to the left, passed along the footway before a dilapidated palace, and then entered a narrow passage on the right. the buildings hereabouts were all large, and, as a natural consequence, the streets were so dark that i had some difficulty in keeping her in sight. as a matter of fact she had stopped, and i was almost upon her before i became aware of it. even then she did not seem to realize my presence. she was standing before a small door, which she was endeavouring to push open. at last she succeeded, and without hesitation began to descend some steps inside. once more i took up the chase, though where we were, and what we were going to do there, i had not the least idea. the small yard in which we found ourselves was stone-paved, and for this reason i wondered that she did not hear my footsteps. it is certain, however, that she did not, for she made for a door i could just discern on the opposite side to that by which we had entered, without turning her head. it was at this point that i began to wish i had brought a revolver or some weapon with me. when she was about to open the door i have just mentioned, i called her softly by name, and implored her to wait for me, but still she took no notice. could she be a somnambulist? i asked myself. but if this were so, why had she chosen this particular house? having passed the door we stood in a second and larger courtyard, and it was then that the whole mystery became apparent to me. _the house to which i had followed her was the palace revecce, and she was on her way to nikola!_ but for what reason? was this a trick of nikola's, or had her terrible dreams taken such a hold upon her that she was not responsible for her actions? either alternative was bad enough. pausing for a moment in the courtyard beside the well, she turned quickly to her right hand and began to ascend the stairs towards that awful room, which, so far as i knew, she had never visited before. when she reached it i scarcely knew how to act. should i enter behind her and accuse nikola of having enticed her there, or should i wait outside and overhear what transpired between them? at last i made up my mind to adopt the latter course, and, when she had entered, i accordingly remained outside and waited for her. through the half-open door i could see nikola, stooping over what looked like a microscope at a side-table. he looked up as miss trevor entered, and uttered a cry of surprise. as i heard this a sigh of relief escaped me, for his action proved to me that her visit had not been anticipated. "miss trevor!" he said, moving forward to greet her, "what does this mean? how did you get here?" "i have come to you," she faltered, "because i could not remain away. i have come to you that i may beg of you that wretched man's life. doctor nikola, i implore you to spare him!" "my dear young lady," said nikola, with a softness in his voice that reminded me of that i had heard in the death-chamber a few hours before, "you cannot understand what you are doing. you must let me take you back to your friends. you should not be here at this hour of the night." "but i was bound to come--don't i tell you i could not remain away? spare him! oh! for god's sake, spare him!" "you do not know what you are asking. you are not yourself to-night." "i only know that i am thinking of you," she answered. "you must not do it! you are so great, so powerful, that you can afford to forgive. take my life rather than harm him. i will yield it gladly to save you from this sin." "to--save--me," i heard him mutter to himself. "she would save me!" "god would never forgive," she continued, still in the same dreamy voice. he moved away from her, and from where i stood i could see how agitated he was. for some moments she knelt, looking up at him, with arms outstretched in supplication; then he said something to her in a low voice, which i could not catch. her answer, however, was plain to me. "yes, i have known it always in my dreams," she said. "and knowing that, you would still wish me to pardon him?" [illustration: "she knelt, with arms outstretched, in supplication."] "in the name of god i would urge you to do so," she answered. "the safety of your soul depends upon it." once more nikola turned away and paced the room. "are you aware that sir richard hatteras was here on the same errand this afternoon?" he asked. "i know it," she replied, though how she could have done so i could not conceive, nor have i been able to do so since. "and does he know that you have come to me now asking me to forgive?" "he knows it," she answered, as before. "he followed me here." as she had never looked behind her, how had she known this also? then nikola approached the door and threw it open. "come in, hatteras," he said. "your presence is discovered." "for heaven's sake, nikola, tell me what this means," i cried, seeing that the girl did not turn towards me. "is she asleep, or have you brought your diabolical influence upon her?" "she is not asleep, and yet she is not conscious of her actions," he answered. "there is something in this that passes our philosophy. had i any idea that she contemplated such a thing, i would have used every effort to prevent it. miss trevor, believe me, you must go home with sir richard," he continued, tenderly raising the girl to her feet as he spoke. "i cannot go until you have sworn to forgive," was her reply. "i must have time to think," he answered. "in the morning you will know everything. trust me until then, and remember always that while nikola lives he will be grateful." then he assisted me to conduct her down-stairs, and across the two courtyards, to the little postern door through which we had entered the palace. "have no fear for her," he said, addressing me. "she will go home as she came. and in the morning she will remember nothing of what has transpired." then taking her hand in his he raised it to his lips, and a moment later had bade me farewell, and had vanished into the palace once more. as i tracked her from the hotel, so i followed her back to it again. i was none the less anxious, however. if only nikola would abandon his purpose, and release his enemy, her action and my anxiety would not be in vain. but would he do so, and in the event of his doing this, would his prophecy that miss trevor would, in the morning, remember nothing of what had transpired, prove true? turning, twisting as before, we proceeded on our way. my chief fear was that the door through which we had made our exit would be found to be shut on our return. happily, however, this did not prove to be the case. i saw miss trevor enter, and then swiftly followed her. she hastened down the passage, ascended the stairs, passed along the corridor, and made her way to her own room. as soon as i had made certain that she was safely there, i went on to my own dressing-room, and on entering my wife's apartment had the good fortune to find her still asleep. i was still more thankful in the morning when i discovered she had not missed me, and being satisfied on this point, i decided to say nothing whatsoever concerning our adventure. miss trevor was the last to put in an appearance at breakfast, and, as you may suppose, i scanned her face with some anxiety. she looked pale and worn, but it was evident from her manner when she greeted me, that she had not the least idea what she had done during the night. nikola's promise had proved to be true, and for that reason i was more determined than ever to keep my information to myself. events could not have turned out more fortunately for all parties concerned. shortly after breakfast a letter was handed to me, and, glancing at the writing, i saw that it was from nikola. i was alone at the time of receiving it, a fact for which i was grateful. i will leave you to imagine with what impatience i opened it. it was short, and merely contained a request that i would call at the palace revecce before noon that day, if i could spare the hour. i decided to do so, and i reached the palace twenty minutes or so before the appointed time. the old servitor, who by this time had become familiar with my face, opened the door and permitted me to enter. i inquired if doctor nikola were at home, and to my surprise was informed that he was not. "perhaps your excellency would like to see the other senor?" the old man asked, pointing up the stairs. i was about to decline this invitation with all possible haste, when a voice i recognized as that of the don greeted me from the gallery above. "won't you come up-stairs, sir richard?" it said. "i have a letter for you, from my friend, doctor nikola!" i could scarcely believe the evidence of my eyes and ears, and when i reached the room of which i had such terrible recollections, my surprise was intensified rather than lessened. martinos had undergone a complete metamorphosis. in outward appearance he was no longer the same person, who only the day before had filled me with such terrible repulsions. if such a thing could be believed, he was more like his old self--as i had first seen him. "where is doctor nikola?" i inquired, when i had looked round the room and noticed the absence of the chemical paraphernalia, the multitude of books, and the general change in it. "he went away early this morning," the don replied. "he left a letter for you, and requested me to give it you as soon as you should call. i have much pleasure in doing so now." i took it and placed it almost mechanically in my pocket. "are you aware when he will return?" i asked. "he will never do so," martinos replied. "i heard the old man below wailing this morning, because he had lost the best master he had ever had." "and you?" "i am ruined, as you know," he said, without any reference to his illness, "but the good doctor has been good enough to place twenty thousand lira to my credit, and i shall go elsewhere and attempt to double it." he must have been much better, for he smiled in the old deceitful way as he said this. remembering what i knew of him, i turned from the man in disgust, and bidding him good-day, left the room which i hoped never to see again as long as i might live. in the courtyard i encountered the old caretaker once more. "so the senor nikola has gone away never to return?" i said. "that is so, senor," said the old man with a heavy sigh. "he has left me a rich man, but i do not like to think that i shall never see him again." sitting down upon the edge of the well i took from my pocket the letter the don had handed me. "farewell, friend hatteras," it began. "by the time you receive this i shall have left venice, never more to set foot in it. we shall not meet again. i go to the fate which claims me, and of which i told you. think of me sometimes, and, if it be possible, with kindness, "nikola." i rose and moved towards the door, placing a gold piece in the old man's hand as i passed him. then, with a last look at the courtyard, i went down the steps and took my place in the gondola, with a feeling of sadness in my heart for the sad destiny of the most wonderful man i had ever known. chapter xiv next day, much to galaghetti's sorrow, we suddenly brought our stay in venice to a conclusion, and set off for paris. the queen of the adriatic had lost her charm for us, and for once in our lives we were not sorry to say good-bye to her. the train left the station, crossed the bridge to the mainland, and was presently speeding on her way across europe. ever since the morning miss trevor's spirits had been steadily improving. she seemed to have become her old self in a few hours, and glenbarth's delight was beautiful to witness. he had been through a good deal, poor fellow, and deserved some recompense for it. we had been upwards of an hour upon our way, when my wife made a curious remark. "good gracious!" she said, "in our hurry to get away we have quite forgotten to say good-bye to doctor nikola!" i saw miss trevor give a little shudder. "do you know," she said, "i had such a curious dream about him last night. i dreamt that i saw him standing in the courtyard of a great building on a mountain-side. he was dressed in a strange sort of yellow gown, not unlike that worn by the buddhist priests, and was worn almost to a shadow and looked very old. he approached me, and taking my hands, said something that, in the commonplace light of day, doesn't seem to have much sense in it. but i know it affected me very much at the time." "what was it?" i asked, trying to keep my voice steady. "it was this," she answered--"'_remember that i have forgiven; it is for you to forget._' what could he have meant?" "since it is only a dream, it is impossible to say," observed my wife, and thus saved me the danger of attempting a solution. to bring my long narrative to a conclusion i might say that the duke and miss trevor were married last may. they spent their honeymoon yachting to the west indies. some one proposed that they should visit venice; indeed, the earl of sellingbourne, who had lately purchased the palace revecce, and had furnished it, by the way, from the tottenham court road, placed it at their disposal. from what i have been told i gather that he was somewhat ill-pleased because his offer was not accepted. * * * * * when the wind howls round the house at night and the world seems very lonely, i sometimes try to picture a monastery on a mountain-side, and then, in my fancy, i see a yellow-robed, mysterious figure, whose dark, searching eyes look into mine with a light that is no longer of this world. to him i cry-- "farewell, nikola!" the end richard clay & sons, limited, london & bungay. novels by guy boothby. special and original designs. each volume attractively illustrated by stanley l. wood and others. _crown vo_, _cloth gilt_, _trimmed edges_, = s.= =mr. rudyard kipling says=: "mr. guy boothby has come to great honours now. his name is large upon hoardings, his books sell like hot cakes, and he keeps a level head through it all. i've met him several times in england, and he added to my already large respect for him." farewell, nikola! sheilah mcleod my indian queen long live the king! a sailor's bride a prince of swindlers a maker of nations the red rat's daughter love made manifest pharos, the egyptian across the world for a wife the lust of hate bushigrams the fascination of the king dr. nikola the beautiful white devil a bid for fortune; or, dr. nikola's vendetta in strange company: a story of chili and the southern seas the marriage of esther: a torres straits sketch london: ward, lock & co., ltd. _new complete library edition_ of g. j. whyte = 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waller =tilbury nogo.= illustrated by stanley l. wood =uncle john.= illustrated by s. e. waller =contraband.= illustrated by stanley l. wood =m. or n.= illustrated by adolf thiede =the queen's maries.= illustrated by lucy e. kemp-welch =general bounce.= illustrated by frances ewan =digby grand.= illustrated by j. ambrose walton =the interpreter.= illustrated by lucy e. kemp-welch =good for nothing.= illustrated by g. p. jacomb hood =bones and i.= illustrated by a. forestier london: ward, lock & co., ltd. novels by joseph hocking. _crown vo_, _cloth gilt_, = / = _each_. _each volume uniform._ though mr. joseph hocking's novels have been (by the _spectator_) compared to mr. baring-gould's, and (by the _star_) to mr. thomas hardy's--next to whom it placed him as a writer of country life--and by other journals to mr. hall caine's and mr. robert buchanan's, they are, one and all, stamped with striking and original individuality. bold in conception, pure in tone, strenuously high and earnest in purpose, daring in thought, picturesque and lifelike in description, worked out with singular power and in nervous and vigorous language, it is not to be wondered at that mr. hocking's novels are eagerly awaited by a large and ever-increasing public. =lest we forget.= illustrated by j. barnard davis. =the purple robe.= illustrated by j. barnard davis. =the scarlet woman.= illustrated by sydney cowell. =the birthright.= illustrated by harold piffard. =mistress nancy molesworth.= illustrated by f. h. townsend. =fields of fair renown.= with frontispiece and vignette by j. barnard davis. =all men are liars.= with frontispiece and vignette by gordon browne. =ishmael pengelly: an outcast.= with frontispiece and vignette by w. s. stacey. =the story of andrew fairfax.= with frontispiece and vignette by geo. hutchinson. =and shall trelawney die?= illustrated by lancelot speed. =jabez easterbrook.= with frontispiece and vignette by stanley l. wood. =weapons of mystery.= with frontispiece and vignette. =zillah.= with frontispiece by powell chase. =the monk of mar-saba.= with frontispiece and vignette by w. s. stacey. london: ward, lock & co., ltd. you cannot beat the best. the windsor magazine ... always contains the ... best work by the ... best authors ... and best artists. it has eclipsed every other sixpenny magazine, and has achieved the most brilliant success of the day. holds the record for giving the =best serial story of the year=. holds the record for giving =splendid exclusive articles= by recognised specialists. holds the record for being the =most varied=, the =most entertaining=, and the =most instructive= of magazines. the "times" calls it "wonderful." london: ward, lock & co., ltd. transcriber's note: inconsistencies in the author's spelling, use of hyphens and other punctuation have been retained as in the original publication. obvious typos and printer errors have been corrected without comment. illustrations have been moved to the nearest paragraph break. the white spark [illustration] a new book, giving out a new philosophy and the mysteries of the universe the handbook of the millennium and the new dispensation synopsis of contents this book is called the white spark as the white spark or vacuum cell in nature is the right hand of god--it is a ubiquitous principle of the universe and is the cause and parent of electricity, combustion, radium, snow-flakes, flowers, trees, leaves, crystallization, wireless telegraphy, animal forms and even life itself. this book is the key to every department of human endeavor, as it enunciates the basic principle and the prime mover of the universe. it tells the road to health, the cause and cure of disease, the truth about the germ humbug and drug treatments, serums and antitoxins. it shows why luminosity is produced on the flesh of various organisms, why a slice of pollock when first iced, then heated to degrees and then thrust into a temperature of degrees becomes luminous. it shows the farmer that he can become a magician of agriculture--tells that the nitrogen of the air is only a dust of quartz rocks, like the invisible moisture of the air is "a dust of water"--that the nodules on the roots of the clover and legumes do not abstract nitrogen from the air, for if they did nature would have placed these bacteriological growths on the vine and not the root, the scientists have the cart before the horse in this case and the nodular cells form the proteids from sand or silica, this book tells how it is done. it tells what a trance is and how the soul can leave the body temporarily. how jesus christ is carrying out the biblical prophesy by telepathy. gives the truths about the ideal society, alcohol, drunkenness, causes of crime, longevity and law. it shows why milk from the cow at degrees of temperature if suddenly cooled to degrees by the small stream process will keep long and remain free from bacteria--how radioactivity kills the germs of fermentation and prevents ptomaine poisoning and why out door livers or moderately working farmers are the centennarians. gives the statistics to prove the evils of alcohol and fast living. shows that all force even gravity is a radioactive emanation from the white sparks and that universal gravitation is a vagary, that the planets move on orbits which are ribbons of force like the gulf stream. the author is the man who converted the great scientists to the idea that matter was simply "a hole in the ether" and that the ether was the real and only element in the universe. this proves the truth of the biblical statement, that god made the world out of nothing, and that matter is simply spirit in motion. this book shows how all the conditions of crime react upon us, that physiology and rectitude are interdependent and although you do not go to hell, yet hell will come to you if you transgress the laws of god and nature. it shows the power of mind over the body and that the religion of jesus is not a fluke to satisfy a whim but is a great commercial like business. there is no vicarious atonement in nature, she does not bandy and has no favorites, you get what you pay for, she keeps no books but has an automatic adjustment which regulates accounts as you go along and marks your soul for the future as well. this book advocates churches and pastors or teachers who are god's noblemen and it advocates theocratic democracy for if you love god and your neighbor you are the correct law. but you can never overrule the law that your temper, rage, cruelty and vindictiveness will be uncontrollable as long as you use tobacco, alcohol and meats, and war will not be annihilated until you reform your diet and habits. "abstinence begets spirituality--dissipation crime", and yourself, your wife, children, associates, animals and humanity suffer--you have misapprehensions, moroseness and misery. war is the result of selfishness, greed, graft, ignorance and animalism and it advocates education of the individual to the end that he shall combine and amalgamate his power with his fellow citizen, when he can control war and government. this book shows that diffusion of light and the freezing of water into ice is from one white spark radiating "high frequency" straight cold rays against its warm neighboring molecule and causing it to become a white spark itself, it gives "contagion," it shows that the ether or spirit gives "contagious transmission of ideas." it explains monism as being correct and that there is but one god. it explains that all of the material of a combustive nature naturally is censored by going to the intestines, and here it is emulsified and coated with an incombustive coat of albumen, if an oil and if starch is turned into sugar which in turn is changed to an oily substance in the liver later and this is subsequently emulsified for eligibility to the blood, but alcohol, essential oils and the organic bases sneak into the blood surreptitiously, therefore "medicine" is not food, there may be times when a stimulant is a pathological aid and the germs often make a stimulant in the body to help over a bad condition, as when the system contains useless material which is a load on the organs or when minerals or "humors" embalm the system, but only a limited amount is a medicine, any more is a poison, these cases are anomalies and under proper conditions are transgressions of nature. this book shows that we can live upon a few cents per day and be stronger and better in every way--it shows why many who gave up eating meat failed and how they can discard the evil and cease to make graveyards of their stomachs--the author has experimented with dogs and cats and found that by feeding milk and well cooked oat-meal from the weaning period till maturity they throve and were happier gentler and more active and vivacious. meat causes man to be peevish, ill tempered and criminal, like tobacco, alcohol and drugs. the differentation of animal bodies can be met by the cooking of the cereals, the short intestines and other conditions of carnivorous animals are not inhibitions to the discarding of meat as a food. man and animals require pure soft water, hard and polluted water is a cause of much unsuspected poisoning and the hidden cause of "epidemics" and diseases--all water should be analyzed before being accepted as satisfactory. mineralized waters are not desirable and the waters from some wells and springs are fit for plants but will disorder the liver and constipate the bowels--many farms are in the grip of misfortune and losses from having bad water for the use of the home and the animals. all of the unused elements which are thrown into the large intestine as waste should be discharged regularly and in cases of constipation a mild laxative like cascara sagrada or senna should be taken to help nature. the great category of medicines of the doctors is a farce and there is no mysterious "selective affinity" for certain drugs, but all elements have either one of two actions--a stimulating process or a refrigerating or embalming process, some remedies go to the liver and counteract the embalming action and aid the flow of bile and some may be of a resinous nature and saponify in the alkalies of the intestines and aid their action. it will be seen that the book simplifies medicine to two principles, one counteracting the other like heat and cold but these actions are unnatural and undesirable; it is only by avoiding discrepancies and ameliorations that we follow nature. the book explains that the differentations and forms in the universe are the results of two forces, the curved force and the straight force, just the same as every word in english language is made up of letters having only two kinds of lines, the straight and the curved lines. the book tells just what occurs in the life cells and protoplasm; this is a remarkable discovery and to show how much so, we quote from le bon the great scientist, he says: "the scholar capable of solving by his intelligence the problems solved every moment by the cells of the lowest creature would be so much higher than other men that he might be considered by them as a god." (from evolution of forces, p. ). haeckel declared that a cell did not go to the bottom of the secret of life and that we must allow that the naked protoplasm itself held the secret of life, this book proves that protoplasm is composed of molecules with centers of sulphur and phosphorus which conformed into white sparks by the alternations of heat and cold, the sparks contain spirit and each spark has a quiet center or consciousness and a potential of radiation of force. this book is terse and compact, is printed on good paper and bound with red cloth with gold letters. [illustration: read it!] [illustration: then tell your neighbors about it] the white spark by orville livingston leach [illustration] printed by the oxford press providence, r. i. the white spark part first. this work is an exposition of a new philosophy, and although it has been taught to a number of highly educated men,--in a technical way, we have had many suggestions made to us to publish a work which the "work-a-day" people can understand,--some have said: "it is too far above me," and "why don't you explain it so everybody may understand it." in this section we have especially planned to overcome all such incongruities. first of all we want to say that nature is a strict economist of time, material and energy--her acts and laws are the simplest possible. when you see any philosophy that is complicated, it is wrong, but if it teaches simplicity it is right--the orthodox creeds have maintained that the universe contained two distinct and eternal elements--material and spirit--but this is complication--can be reduced,--we are monists and "pantheists" and we are right,--there is only one element in the universe, and that is the pristine spirit. this is all that is needed to form the universe, and we will show that matter is simply an enclosure of space or nothing, having an outline of spirit which is in such swift motion that it holds the outline--water can be sent through the air so swiftly that it will turn aside a steel bar. to better illustrate the fact we will take a blackboard and paint it all over with whitewash, then we take a wet sponge and wipe out round figures--these will show as black spaces outlined by the white--these black spaces represent space or nothing, while the white represent spirit--the black spots then represent matter. they are really nothing, only a form outlined and held by motion of spirit or "ether." the statement in catechisms that "god made the world out of nothing" is then correct, although the statement has been called impossible by many scientists. our philosophy was the first to enunciate the true nature of matter, atoms, molecules and electrons. previous to this atoms were considered as solid indivisible particles. later the scientists said matter was condensed spirit or ether. i imagined so myself once, but upon reflection i said, "the ether can pass through everything, so what could hold it or compress it?" and spirit or ether could not compress ether, as ether is all alike. to show our part in teaching the world the truth we will go into a little history. as the readers of this work have probably never read the latch key, i will reprint two paragraphs verbatim, numbers and . paragraph will require some explanation. count rumford claimed that heat was nothing but a motion, and in some cases this is so, a motion of the atoms in a body, but a line of spirit from the sun will cause atoms on the earth to move, and thus is the real cause of heat, and so radiation of force or spirit from burning wood will create heat. perhaps we have in this paragraph used the nature of spirit rather vaguely in saying heat is the "prime mover," but heat in one way is spirit, or analogous to spirit. . matter is only space or nothing, with a wall of spirit. fire was held in sublime awe by the egyptians and the sun was worshipped as the source of divine power. the wonderful pyramids are supposed to have been erected for the glorification of these subtile forces in nature. modern thought reverts to ancient ideas. fire is simply spirit in motion. heat is a circular or circumscribed motion or =direction= in which spirit is moving--it is the "prime mover" of organization, the creator of matter and the parent of the universe! a centrifugal act occurring from the intellectual fiat of spirit--leaving a center, a whirling away of spirit to a certain circumference or distance from a center leaving space in the center--this is materialization, a creating of matter, the formation of an atom, from nothing! . the point of a pin illustrates the annihilation of matter. a point continued to an absolute end must end in spirit! matter is cut down to something beyond our senses; the absolute end of a point may contain an atom, but matter ends here--here where one single whirl of spirit surrounds the smallest amount of space possible. beyond there is no whirl or motion of spirit, consequently no matter, yet there is now unparticled spirit. if electricity had been studied correctly no scientist would ever have imagined that matter was condensed ether. in maxwell's elementary treatise on electricity on page he says: "we know absolutely nothing with respect to the distance through which any particular portion of electricity is displaced from its original position." * * * "the actual velocity of electricity in a telegraph wire may be very small, less, say, than the hundredths of an inch in an hour, though the signals which it transmits may be propagated with great velocity." it is the very fact that the ether is not compressible that allows a wireless signal to be given a thousand miles away instantly. it is just the same as if you had a long stick and punched a bell feet away. i sent my work, "the latch key," to sir oliver lodge and sir william crookes in . its philosophy was buried for three years before the ideas were presented to the british association for the advancement of science. sir william crookes wrote to me in stating that he had received my pamphlet, but he was just leaving home for a vacation of two weeks and when he returned he would give it his attention. in sir oliver's great work, called "life and matter," he wrote: "but it appears now that an atom may break up into electric charges, and these again may some day be found capable of resolving themselves into pristine ether. in that case the ether alone persists. it is the most fundamental entity." in another book called "modern views of electricity" he said: "ether is somehow affected by the immediate neighborhood of gross matter, and it appears to be =concentrated= inside it to an extent depending on the =density= of the matter." so it is seen that sir oliver at this time believed that matter was compressed or condensed ether. in my pamphlets i explained that the ether could not be compressed, as it was capable of passing through all substance, and that matter was not =more= of the ether, but instead was =less=, and that atoms were simply spots of pure space or "nothing," and that the ether or its moving lines or sheets simply whirled around on empty space while what was called a vacuum was really the habitat of real material, or the ether. in sir oliver accepted this new version of the nature of matter, and it was the cause of much excitement in the british association, so much so that the report reached america and prof. serviss wrote an article about it in the boston sunday american in october, , in which he says: "the answer as recently given by sir oliver lodge is amazing beyond belief. the solidest thing in existence, he avers, is the very thing which for generations has been universally regarded as the lightest, the most imperceptible, the most utterly tenuous and evanescent beyond all definition or computation--the ether!" and in the same article he says: "matter, prof. osborne reynolds has asserted, instead of being, as we innocently believe on the evidence of our senses, the only real and solid thing in nature is, in fact, the absence or deficiency of mass." the following is an article by sir oliver lodge in regard to spirits: "though for many years, ever since the eighties, i have tried all sorts of other methods of explaining these things, they have gradually been eliminated one after the other, and now no explanations remain except the simple one that the people who communicate are really the individuals they claim to be. not always, of course. one has to prove them in every case. but still the conclusion is that survival of existence can be scientifically proved by actual psychical investigation. "that all leads to a perception of the unity running through all states of existence. that is why i say that man is not alone; that is why i say that i know he is surrounded by other intelligences. if you once step over the boundary beyond man, there is no limit to higher and higher intelligences up to the infinite intelligence himself. there is no stopping; you go on and must go on until you come to god. "it is no strange land to which i am leading you. the cosmos is one. we here on this planet are limited in certain ways and are blind to much that is going on; but i tell you we are surrounded by beings working with us, cooperating, helping such as people in visions have had some perception of. and that which religion tells us, that saints and angels are with us, that the master himself is helping us, is, i believe, literally true." in presenting this work to the public we claim no right to inject any fallacies into the mind of the reader, and as far as we can discover there is no cause for any misapprehension in regard to our statements. there is only one truth to any question, and all we base our claims upon is our ability to present facts pertaining to our enunciations. fallacies are very short lived among persons who use their brains, and the only credit which any philosophy earns is from the good precepts which it inculcates, the value which it proves to the world and the truth which it holds. it is usually the case that a careless person resents any philosophy which conflicts with their habits, no matter how many facts you present to them or how much history you cite to them in proof of your statements. the use of tobacco and liquor deadens the users' alertness to safeguarding their own welfare, and in many cases with poisons and also diet the only thing we can do is to try to have you learn the truth, and if the end of the rope has been reached and you are at the ebb of life and hope, you will have more willingness to conform to the laws of life. if you don't need our philosophy as a "missionary," some time, you may want it as a doctor. learn it, anyway. the greatest field for fruitful efforts is with the children. if we can prevent their using improper articles of food and drink and teach them the nature of their effects, then we may find better soil for the seeds of rectitude. of course a little dissipation may not always cause great trouble. there is but one god and we may tell about saviours, "sons of god" and the trinity, but there is only one saviour and that is a teacher--either a spirit or a human being--and the only salvation is in the following of natural laws which are god's bible. there are natural laws which are occult laws, and these sometimes contravene what we may call "laws of matter." a teacher of the truths of natural science is god's nobleman, and knowledge is our only salvation. the use of stimulants is just the same as if you should use a volt electric lamp on a current with volts. it would be burnt out; and so your nerves which are the wires of the body are wasted away by stimulants. they are all alike practically. alcohol and essential oils act as a kindler to the natural combustives in the tissues and the alkaloids or organic bases, as nicotine, morphine, etc., act like radium. quinine is an alkaloid also, and i will here reprint a selection from the original latch key which explains the manner in which the organic bases become dangerous. they all contain nitrogen, which may account for their affinity for the nerve substance. . light and heat from radium are from the absorption of ether. the emission of light from a substance spontaneously, as in the case of "radium," is not a new phenomenon. nearly forty years ago prof. stokes enunciated the fact. he filled a glass tube with a solution of sulphate of quinine and then moved it through the spectrum, entering at the red ray. when it had passed through all the colors and entered the region of the ultra violet, or where the invisible magnetic rays were, the tube lighted up. a solution of horse chestnut acted in the same way, so also did glass stained with oxide of uranium. paragraph was sort of a mysterious alchemical article explaining a secret of life. life comes from the formation of white sparks or vacuo in matter, and therefore bioplasmic elements must be liquid, soluble or mobile. they must be capable of conforming into round globules. then the second feature must come in--heat and cold to expand the molecule and cool the outside and allow the inside to later contract and form a vacuum in the center, the home of spirit. "decay" generates life as it makes solid substances soluble. of course, excessive decay creates a gas and then this evaporates. . secrets of silicon. moses was a great alchemist, skilled in all the arts and sciences of the egyptians. the works or writings of moses are called books of the old testament and not works on alchemy, but tradition tells us that his sister miriam wrote an extensive work on alchemy--(the catholic bible has the name miriam translated as mary). in genesis chap. , verse , we read, "till thou return unto the ground, for out of it thou was taken; for dust thou art and unto dust shalt thou return." some scientists scoff at the idea of moses and some scoff at the idea of "spontaneous generation," but we can prove that both are true. life can be produced from mineral elements alone. silicon has always been a source of dispute among chemists in regard to its classification. some consider it a regular metal, but it is usually called a "hyalogen" or glass former like boron. silicon is never found in its pure metallic state in nature, but is in combination with oxygen, as is then called by various names as silica, silex, silicic acid and sand, which is the most abundant of mineral substances. the most important and useful elements as air, water and sand god gives free to all, they are found everywhere. sand is at one time a crystallized substance and at another time it may be a colloid substance and thus become the same nature as an "organized substance," as albumen. sand is insoluble in pure water, but it is dissolved by alkaline solutions. natural waters which contain alkaline carbonates always have some sand in solution. sand from its two fold nature seems to be the bond between death and life or the solution to the theory of "from dust to life." sand when in solution is a colloid. if or parts of carbonate of soda or potash are mixed with or parts of sand and part of charcoal on being heated they melt and form a mass resembling ordinary glass, but it entirely dissolves in =hot water=. if now chlorohydric acid be added to the solution it neutralizes the alkali and the silica or sand separates as a transparent jelly. a colloid! it is "hydrate of silica," but it is now fixed like albumen or an organized substance and is insoluble in water or acid. if it is kept moist it remains a colloid, but by drying it and separating it from its partner, water, the colloid making alchemical mysterious water, the sand turns to dust again--a gritty powder! at common temperatures carbonic acid is stronger than silica, and upon many of the combinations of silica the air acts as a destructive agent, its carbonic acid slowly uniting with bases or alkali and liberating the silica, and at the moment of its liberation the sand is soluble in water. sand, it will be seen, acts both as an acid and combines with an alkali and as a base and combines with acids. sand in solution enters the roots of plants and from its transforming nature or transmutation, it performs great wonders in nature, it performs miracles in the animal body and in water itself. it is the ideal agent for the generation of =vacuo spaces= or life cells, from its being in one state when warm and in another when cold, from its being capable of forming soft cell walls and then concreting around a quantity of ether or spirit upon cooling. it proves itself the "philosopher's stone." hot and cold and silicon! what a wonderful combination! it explains the mysteries of the universe, radio-activity and life. it may be well to here state that there is no chemical difference between a dead man's brain and nerves and a live man's brain and nerves. this in itself shows that the cause of life and intelligence is simply from some conformation of matter which allows the presence of spirit. this is the invisible process of the formation of white sparks or the making of a hollow center to molecules. life is not a principle per se of organic matter, but organic matter is arranged into round molecules with cell center of silicon phosphorus, sulphur or iron. the hard and fast nature of the elements is an imagination and it is only a short step of nature from quartz or silicon to carbon and i may also say to nitrogen the gas of the atmosphere. the farmer can become a magician by intellect. we once proved that by the use of lime or an alkali vegetables can be made to grow in sand. a tomato plant was planted in a mixture of sand and plasterer's mortar (a mixture of quick lime and sand) and a bushel of tomatoes were gathered from this one plant. the lime makes the sand soluble and acts the same as manure which produces carbonic acid which at the moment of its formation acts as a solvent of sand and this gives growth. water is the great element of life and growth--with the heating effect of the sun and the alternations of temperature or cooling after heating we augment the life and growth. i will reprint some more of the articles which were in the latch key, as they seemed to strike the readers more impressibly than anything which i ever wrote, and in fact the latch key seemed to have hypnotic influence. first of all it was anonymous and no author's name appeared and further it was given away. one lady in later years found out the author and wrote to me for a few copies, saying she could not help crying when she read paragraph . perhaps the paragraph took on the "poetical" and thus reached her sentiments. . the secret of life! the little chapel peacefully resting under the overhanging trees, with the solemn graveyard beside it, tells the story of life's longings and miseries. yet within the little chapel, however humble, can be learned the secret of life's joy and success and the eternal happiness of the soul! life's sentiments are fragrant, space only is fraught with pain! spirit fledges space, unlocks the caverns of misery and sheds the light in the gloom. man grovels in the dark mid the skulls of despair till he lists to the whisper of spirit. the lisping pines, the rustling oaks, the sunshine in the meadow and the moonlight on the hill speak in accents calm and clear. our motto: "spiritus excello." water is the great agent of life or conformation as it is mobile. molecules which are round when whirled or heated take to orbits, but the metallic substances having molecules of a disc shape whirl on their axes. i herewith give articles and of the latch key: . why ashes or water do not burn. fire is the action of atoms or molecules in separating farther apart. to be sure, ashes have atoms, but for atoms to whirl apart their motion must be so that they can separate. if the heat causes them to whirl on their axis only, the substance may get red hot, but will not burn. and some substances do not burn because the heat and motion applied whirls the molecules or groups of atoms apart and wastes its motion in that way. water acts this way (steam). crystallization is the result of the formation of vaco cells or white sparks, and i reprint paragraph to explain this fact: . annealing and malleability of metals. crystallization has been considered in paragraph , but when matter is cooled very slowly through long periods of time, vacuo spaces are not formed. ordinary cast iron is crystallized, but when it is heated in a furnace and gradually cooled through several days or weeks, it becomes "malleable iron." the iron which is used as an electro-magnet for a telegraphic machine will not work unless the iron is annealed very soft by being heated and allowed to cool in the ashes as the fire gradually dies out. crystallization is the most wonderful dovetailing process conceivable. when a liquid is cooled the molecules become radio active and radiate lines of force. these lines are nearly straight, unlike heat lines, and therefore they are cold lines. they drive matter in planes and straight lines or surfaces instead of into globules or liquids which move. the discs of ice cannot move or roll about like the globules of water, and ice is hard like quartz or a form of flint or silica. all objects are formed by the action of two forces, either a curling force or a straight force. plants form leaves in the air, and where there is more obstruction and curving influence they form roots. all cells are alike in their first state, but are changed in the process of growth or from influences. a slip from a geranium when stuck into the earth will form roots. it seems to me that each cell in an egg contains a counterpart of the whole body of a chicken--that is, it contains electrons or occult matter which, once having passed through all parts of a fowl's body, in the blood photographs these parts. we can account for the various parts of the egg yolk turning its cells into different forms by the location which the particular cell occupies--as cells in various parts,--at the center,--or at the surface,--would be subject to curling forces or straight forces. at the center forces would be obstructed and curled, and at the surface just the opposite, and a hundred variations, according to the location and surroundings. how many times i have wished that a social condition could be instituted by which every living being in the world or the universe could be happy and free from fear, worriment, hunger, and exposure--where peace, plenty and pleasure existed for all--where all could have a horse, automobile, golf link or any correct thing which their ideas called for to make them enjoy themselves. four hours' labor per day is enough for any one and there is enough in the world to give every one happiness and plenty if the social condition was arranged correctly. while there are many unfeeling capitalists, yet the poor are not always right. they don't know how to act for their own welfare. they may know what they want, but don't know how to get it. an ignorant poor man will often sell his vote or he is too ignorant to learn that he should obey correct laws. the london spectator recently gave a biography of former secretary of state john hay and i give an excerpt from the same: "it was natural that hay should despise the arts of the demagogue. he speaks with scorn of what he calls 'gutter ciceros,' and of the practice adopted during a sharp electoral campaign of 'hiring dirty orators by the dozen to blather on street corners.' he very rightly held that it was the special duty of statesmen in democratic countries to have the courage of their opinions. he himself wrote a novel, entitled 'the bread winners,' which was widely read, and which was really an elaborate defence of capital against the attacks of labor; and in he wrote to president roosevelt: 'it is a comfort to see the most popular man in america telling the truth to our masters, the people. it requires no courage to attack wealth and power, but to remind the masses that they too are subject to the law is something few public men dare to do.' "america at her best can produce men of a very high type. such a man was john hay." part second spirits and the spirit land. . reveries in the country. it was a day in january. the desultory snow-flakes were skudding here and there and a white mantle was becoming visible on the fence tops and pine trees, and as i gazed dreamily from the window of my study i heard the church bell in the belfry of the village church peal out its glad tidings of love; and as its decadence faded away, a thought peaceful and quiet captured my soul,--it seemed as if the reverberating voice of the holy bell had told me a story--a secret of happiness and peace. . redemption of the world. and as i settled back in my broad wicker arm chair before the blazing hearth fire i said to my inner soul: "how beautiful is this moment! can i perpetuate the sentiments which give me joy on this sabbath day, can i delve into the laws of comfort and rest and emerge with a trophy to redeem the world?" . spirit and matter. the scintillating sparks in the fireplace rose up on the wings of a golden glow, paused for a moment and then i saw a flash of pure white light gleam like the star of bethlehem. i had seen the wild, red coals changed to peaceful, redeemed souls of light. . a truism of nature an eternal principle. the church bell, emblematic of religion, and the "white spark," a ubiquitous principle of the universe; visions of the superstructure of the millennium, rose up before me--religion and science hand in hand, science the fact and religion the herald or harbinger. . matter only the wake of spirit. i had seen that from out the depths of the base matter come forth a substance pure and glorious. transmutation then had proved that there is no vile, low or corrupt matter in the universe, and the idea is a relic of the ignorance inculcated in the dim vistas of the past. all matter is simply a figure sculptured by the pencil of spirit, vortices which use space as a playground, speed which holds the lines stiff and refractory against ultra intrusion. . science of the white spark. now i see two visions--two houses in the precinct of nature--the first a structure of spirit for the abode of space or nothing; second, a structure of space for the abode of spirit, the all, the great, the powerful, and the conscious; the first, a minute affair, an atom; the second, a collocation of atoms forming a shell or larger structure for the abode of spirit, and this is formed by a heated or mobile, molecule conforming substance, suddenly cooled by oxygen or a cold temperature, when a shell is formed and indurated, and a hollow center made. . symbol of the white spark. i introduce a new symbol ° the emblem which will represent the white spark, the circle or hollow globe, for this is what the white spark is, and this spark prevails throughout the universe. it is a hollow molecule, holding an air-tight reservoir, excluding everything but spirit or the ether. . the spark is a receptacle of mind and a potential of force. the white spark is alive. it has a shell formed of rotating atoms which roll in the spirit or magnetic lines of force. the lines converge to a common center. here they must halt for an instant. force cannot be lost, so it is transmuted into consciousness. this mind can now radiate lines of force from the center out again. . mathematics of the spark. if you take a silver dime and lay it on the table you will find that it always takes just six dimes to form a ring around it. this leaves six spaces between the dimes, and it is the same with atoms, and a molecule seen from the side if radio-active, and if we could see the lines of force, would show six streams of force, and the snow-flake always has six points. . crumbling sparks and permanent sparks. the sparks of combustion explode from the inner force, but the "sparks" of a magnet and radium do not, and the sparks formed in protoplasm or in the nerves and brain last longer than the sparks of combustion, and the sparks in the spiritual bodies of departed souls are like radium. . location of the spirit land. in paragraph i refer to two visions of houses in the precinct of nature. now i refer to a third, the greatest, most beautiful and wonderful abode in the universe. this house has no interior of simple space or nothing, and again it has no outer wall of matter. it is the pristine spirit and it is in the interstellar spaces outside of the planets. . conditions in the spirit land. in this land there is no gravity or obstruction. what is built and placed there is free from destruction and decay. living spirits can move by a thought and build by their desires; spirits can outstrip the earth in its flight in its orbit, can come to earth and leave at any time or part of its orbit. this is a home of joy. . attributes of spirit. the soul is kept in our body by the magnetism of our blood. when a person goes into a trance there is an embargo on the blood and the soul can leave the spark cells of the nerve substance of the brain and occupy a spiritual body or electrical vapor in the atmosphere or ether. during sleep or failing powers of the mind, the soul is drowned out by matter, the permanent spiritual center of the spark is overflowed with matter and consciousness is temporarily turned to motion. spirit always, in any amount, has the attributes of intelligence and power; the ether transmits intelligences. . superiority of spirit. when our soul leaves our body it enters its own, it becomes clear and bright as in childhood; there is no fear, pain or dimness of thought and mind. we meet our friends, we remember and visit our earthly friends in the human body, we strive for their uplift and happiness, we live in happiness and peace, yet our earthly career affects our degree of spiritual advancement, and the truths which you can learn at the little country chapel and the emulation of the "sermon on the mount" will prove to be your "wand of hope." . the pope says the advent of the saviour is near. in a decree of pope benedict sent out from rome on january , , he says: "those days which christ predicted seem in fact to have come, 'you shall hear of wars and rumors of wars. for nation shall rise against nation and kingdom against kingdom'." christ can return to earth in spirit. there is no need for him to come otherwise. he can talk to a person adapted to receive telepathic instructions and give the world his message. some readers may be averse to the claims that jesus christ is anything but an imaginary person from the inventions of the priests of the early ages, and others may claim that contemporary with the dates applied to the fictitious legend there was a great teacher and the teachings recorded were from this teacher. but what difference does a name make? the only issue of any value is what is taught. no great teacher cares a whit about what the people think about his personality if they accept his works. the name jesus has been applied to the teacher of the good things in the new testament for so long a time now that we can well afford to grant the application, whatever might have been his acceded name. all the ether in interstellar space is intelligent, and if we connect our mind with it we gain power and intuition by a "sixth sense," but to do this we must not throw the blanket of too much blood about the brain. "prophets" have to diet and fast. part third how to generate the white spark or "vaco-cells" in our body. all the life and thought on this earth and in any material and on any other earth or body in the universe comes from a peculiar transaction by which all matter is cleared away and a space left wherein there is nothing but the invisible ether or spirit. the origination of all tangible matter was from the degradation of spirit and the transmutation of thought into motion, and it is by the motion of spirit that matter is formed from spirit. therefore to regain the conditions of thought and to regulate the adjustment of material or matter conditions must be instituted which simulate the original state, and evade the decadence from contiguosity of matter and generate spirit in vaco-cells with life and power. this great principle is the keynote of all that we hope for in existence. it is the most vital science and yet it has remained totally hidden from the ken of mankind. this new science opens up a field in the new order which holds the greatest hopes for utopian success ever given to man. it is not gold, power, notoriety or glamor that make for this great process of joy and health. it is not the costly foods and luxuries which bring us within reach of this coveted condition. when we learn the facts we find that the great part of mankind are very much misinformed and that human knowledge is upside down. we find that peace and happiness like air and water are not under a ban, but that god is on the side of the unostentatious and simple living people, and that what has been considered by some as poverty is really greatness in disguise. nature never places any premium on truth and like all good things should be free of access. among the things which we give, you will find new methods of combatting disease, a means of economic freedom and of rising above misfortune. we will show that most diseases are caused by the food and drink which is used. the theories of the "howling germ doctors" are all insane emanations from an ignorant mind. we will prove that there are two distinct types of disease with an admixture of these two types. the first type is malarial and is caused by a mal-assimilation of sugar and grease, fat or oil in the system. the second type is "small-pox" and is caused by the non-assimilation of the nitrogenized element of meat, or gelatinous elements. when you know the cause you can avoid the disease. germs or microbes are not the cause of disease, but are beneficent provisions of nature to reduce meat proteids, etc., which are blocking the system, to a state in which they can be eliminated from the blood, and therefore we always find the poisonous uric acid in all cases of small-pox, etc. even an excess of vegetable proteid is injurious. in malarial diseases we always find an excess of carbonic acid or other acidulous products of decaying or germ inhabited sugars or glycerines (from grease, etc.). a diet of skim-milk and white bread will cure malaria, and a diet of skim-milk and oat-meal will cure kidney disease. during health the blood is always alkaline, while the tissues or nerves and ganglia or brain are always acidulous. now this is what i want to impress upon the mind, for it relates to my discovery of the white spark principle. an acid acts like heat, while an alkali acts like cold. the molecules in an acid are rotating in orbits, while the molecules of an alkali rotate on an axis, so we can see how when the blood becomes acidulous as in disease white spark cells of life cannot be formed. sugar has proven itself a bane to humanity. it is a modern product and was not used by the ancients. honey had a limited field as a luxury, and here i will say the high cost of luxuries has been a protective principle for poor people. sugar has no limit of solution. water will absorb it until an immobile syrup is formed, and glycerine, a product of grease, acts similar to sugar in the system. syrup has a great affinity for lime, and children who eat candy and sweet foods have bad teeth, as the lime required for the teeth is absorbed from the blood by the sugar. any chemist knows the great affinity of syrup for lime, and this is why he makes the syrup of lime which is used in prescriptions where lime is required. sugar acts as an acid, chemically, forming saccarites with the bases or alkalis. sugar destroys the natural alkaline state of the blood. there has been a great scare around boston about a "new disease." the doctors have various ideas about its nature and treatment. it is generally called acidosis and is supposed to be the result of eating too much sugar; but some doctors say it is an epidemic and is not caused by sugar. in the disease the blood has been found to be acidulous. sugar will fill the system with an embalming element, and thus the tissues are saturated with an element which acts on the system like ashes thrown on a fire. they extinguish it, and as sugar prevents oxidation in the system, the vaco-cells or "white sparks" cannot form. there are times when electrical machines will produce only a few weak sparks and at other times powerful sparks are produced, and it has been proved that this state of non-electrical atmosphere is the cause of epidemics when the system is loaded with either sugar or gelatinous products of a meat diet. fasting is often necessary in disease, for disease is usually a congestion of the blood and a distention of the blood vessels, and when we lessen the quantity of blood or the excessive pressure from the effects of stimulants, etc., we allow the blood vessels to get a grip on the blood and force it along. a dog or horse will never eat when he is sick. an invalid for a time may do best on a little toasted white bread and skim-milk, as oat-meal, etc., may contain too much gluten, which is not needed in the system at this time. there is a difference in proteids. gluten is more like gelatine and is used where toughness is required as in the skin, tendons and muscle. the vital proteids are required in the nerves and brain. it is not well to eat eggs for breakfast in all kinds of sickness, but a soft boiled egg for dinner may be good for some. the excessive use of meat is a cause of cancer, and it is the gelatine which is to blame. there are two factors, however, which should be considered. we may eat gelatine, sugar or grease, and if we work hard in the open air we overcome the disease in a measure. it has been proved that carnivorous fishes have cancers if the fishes are crowded in a pool, but removal to running water cures them, as running water contains more air and oxygen which gives more nerve power and eliminates the useless material. it is the same with malaria. work in the pure air burns off the hydro-carbons better and the blood becomes more mobile. when we use oat-meal, mush, etc., with skim-milk we don't get much solid food, for we fool ourselves by taking lots of water which we would not use otherwise. in winter stabled horses are seen to excrete dark heavy urine, as they are fed on grain or proteids and drink little water. vegetables contain much water and are useful. the air in closed rooms is dead, but out-door air is in motion. decay and filth fills the air with gasses and oxygen is displaced, which means death to "the white spark" of the nerves, the generators of power. if you have money and leisure you can dissipate more with less inconvenience than as if you had no money or time. it has been proved that the use of alcohol, tobacco, etc., wastes the tissues and nourishment the same as hard work and overworks the liver, kidneys and lungs; but work is the poor man's bulwark, and thus it is that the abstemious person is always a better, wiser, more reasonable and industrious employe than the other. the "sport" has a debauch and then a "loaf" or else he soon goes to the sanitarium. stimulants always lessen your powers after each dose or after the first effects are worn out. we can show you how to overcome poverty without a labor union propaganda, or a lodge benefit, for you can live on a few cents per day and become better off thereby, if you follow the right method. many have tried to live on boiled potatoes, beans, skim-milk and vegetables, but have failed; but the trouble was this: the system had been adapted to the stimulation of creatinin, the stimulant of meat, and when this was withdrawn there was a slack action to the stomach and general system. but i have proved that if you use some onions or celery or some mild condiment like pepper or the like you can avoid meat without trouble. many reformers have failed because they drop stimulants, yet still eat soups and meats or cakes and rich dishes. you must drop these things when you drop alcohol and drugs, for meat gelatines, grease and sugar make a heavy refractory blood and nature calls for an increased nerve action, but this stimulation is a first stage of inflammation with its weakening reaction. starch is transformed into grape sugar in the intestines, yet nature regulates this better than when sugar is taken directly into the stomach, as this goes directly to the liver. the simple living person gets up earlier, works easier and gets more enjoyment from the sunshine, the open fireplace and all the beauties of nature. a fine cigar may stimulate the brain, but like emerson you may decline when you should be in your prime, and perhaps, like him, lose your memory. emerson in his last years attended the funeral of his old friend, longfellow the poet, but could not remember this man's name at his last rites. i believe it is utterly impossible for any person to live a real safe moral life, according to the christian code, and subsist upon the ordinary food and drink of the times. for instance, the use of coffee will often create immoral feelings which a saint could not overcome. tobacco creates sensations in a like manner. anything which creates undue nerve action causes a congestion of the inner organs. i might as well tell you to place a torch in a powder magazine and then prevent an explosion as to tell you to become a true christian and live upon highly exciting foods or drugs. there was never a true saint which did not practice self-restraint in regard to foods, drinks and habits. you will see that i am an advocate of the simple life, yet i want to say that i am not trying to drive anyone against their will, and i also want to say that i do not say you will go to immediate destruction, always, by diverging from my creed. some persons from the nature of their ordinarily proper habits withstand much that is taboed by science, yet this does not change the facts that correct physiological habits are the only ones to be condoned. the use of some fruit sauce may not always prove serious, of course, and the farmer who eats baked apples and milk may plod along in his own way and retain good health, yet an invalid who can barely keep alive had better be fed on easily assimilated concentrated life building food. as explained elsewhere, a person who does not use alcohol or tobacco, etc., can use some fruit sauces, etc., and as the poisons have not weakened the nerves which govern the liver and vital organs, the liver can take care of the acids and sugars. stimulants create wastes in excess and overpower the kidneys and liver, and when they are discarded there is loss of required nerve power. when a nation has any serious business on hand or when arctic explorers want to get to their goal they abolish the use of alcohol. russia has been under prohibition for the short time of the war, and the decrease of crime has already proved what a monster drink has been. in precincts of moscow for the first half year of there was an average of criminal cases a month, while for the first temperance month there were only . crime was reduced . per cent. within two weeks after the closing of the wine shops of russia she felt as if resurected, and it was proved that perfect temperance was possible and that alcohol was not a necessity. this is only the working out of a natural law and is the enactment of one branch of codes, and it holds true of drugs and all of the many branches of physiological requisites. individual freedom many times is a menace to a person's welfare. this is proved by the "freedom" with which persons can get drunk. if the monarch was a wise and conscientious ruler, an absolute monarchy would be a blessing. god is an absolute monarch and his law is absolute. nature has no favorites and we must obey the law or pay the penalty. society is to blame for crime. if municipalities would enact ordinances preventing the dispensing of injurious foods and drinks, and otherwise control the prevention of a person's dissipation, it would necessarily vanish. but we see the evils of giving legislatures power to enact coercive medical laws when ignorance controls the legislators. the forcing of citizens to submit to the inoculation of virus or serum in themselves or their animals is equal to the monstrosities of the medieval ages. the recent epidemic of hoof and mouth disease, the germ doctors themselves admit, was caused by a hog cholera serum which was tested by the government bacteriologists and pronounced clean and was sold by a chicago firm. the hoof and mouth disease has never been proved to be a generator of specific "germs," as no microscope has ever detected any such germ, and the poison will pass through a porcelain filter. so how can the virus be "tested?" there is an epidemic of "grip" about now, and a health doctor, dr. chapin of providence, r. i., says: "persons with mild attacks continue at their work and thus rapidly spread the disease. it is for this reason that isolation and official control have never been able to check an outbreak. the epidemics run out themselves after a few weeks." well, then, we are safe! let them run out instead of poisoning thousands of healthy persons with typhoid and other serums. every german soldier, it is claimed, is given the three inoculations of typhoid serum before going to the front, but recent medical reports say the typhoid fever has been malignant in the men in the trenches. there has recently been a great amount of study about the ductless glands of the animal body. it has been variously claimed this thing and the other for their uses, but i am going to tell what nature made them for, they are for the reduction or "decay" of proteids which makes them very soluble and ready for the feeding of the nerves and cells. the elements which go into them never come out, but are reabsorbed. with one exception, the male sacs eject the nerve food for the propagation of the species, but it is a cause of disease and weakness. it is proved that the ductless glands (or sacs) take in proteids which become formed into granules and gradually decay or are broken down enough to be reabsorbed. the loss of the fluids of these glands is the loss of an alkaline nerve food, and many diseases would be avoided if chastity had been preserved. they prevent the acidity of the blood, which is the cause of many diseases. the bacteriologists must learn that they cannot fool nature. if your system holds substances which nature must remove by germs it is of no use to kill the germs, because this does not remove the cause. if we kill all the specific germs of one disease, then nature will give some other germs in place of them. there has been a great cry that consumption has decreased. perhaps it has, but nature still gives just as much action with her required eliminating process as ever. here is what dr. hutchinson writes in the boston american, january , : "although, in the main, the march of modern medicine has been a series of triumphs, at certain points its progress has been checked, if not actually defeated. "while we have been steadily beating back typhoid, tuberculosis and diphtheria, most of the diseases which have baffled us have been either maladies of later life, like cancer and arterial sclerosis, or conditions depending upon long continued action of a variety of imperfectly known causes, like heart disease, bright's disease and insanity. "but there is also one disease among the pure infections whose germ has been identified, whose active cause known for nearly thirty years past, which still defies us, and that is pneumonia. "in fact, for some ten or fifteen years past, we have been faced with the singular and disquieting paradox, that of the two greatest and most fatal diseases of the lungs, while tuberculosis has been steadily declining, pneumonia has been rapidly increasing in deadliness. "twenty years ago tuberculosis caused about one-seventh of all the deaths in the united states; pneumonia, about one-fifteenth. to-day tuberculosis has fallen to about one-twelfth of the deaths, while pneumonia has risen to one-tenth. "one reason why pneumonia so baffled medical skill was that, although the germ, or rather germs--for there are at least four varieties of them, each producing a different type of the disease--were well known, the infection seldom naturally spreads to other human beings, and it was for a long time rather difficult to transmit it experimentally to animals. "further than that, the pneumococcus which produced the most serious types of the disease was, if not identical with, quite hard to distinguish from two or three types of streptococci which were found in abundance in the human mouth, about the roots of the teeth and in the tonsils, even in conditions of perfect health. "so that we were driven to the discouraged conclusion that some 'state of the system,' or lowered resisting power or other unknown factor, was necessary in order to allow the pneumonia coccus to get a foothold in the lungs and produce the disease; and there the case hung for a number of years. the open air cure. "considerable improvement in all but the most virulent type of cases was produced by the introduction of the open air treatment, with abundant feeding similar to that relied upon in tuberculosis. but we could not honestly say that we knew of any drug or remedy which appeared to have a directly curative effect upon the disease." can't you see that the product is in either case? and don't you see that the "germ doctors" have not fooled nature? there is a great epidemic of "grip" and pneumonia sweeping the country--one of the worst ever known. in providence, r. i., the disease has been the cause of more deaths in a given time than was ever known. here is what the evening bulletin says in the issue of january , : "fifteen persons in providence died of pneumonia or grip during the second half of last week, making lives claimed here by the epidemic in the first eight days of january. "this is the largest number of deaths from these diseases which the city has ever had in a similar period. physicians report that there is no indication of a let-up in the epidemic as yet, and that a continuance of the unusually high death rate may be expected. "there were nine deaths from pneumonia last thursday, friday and saturday, and six fatalities from grip. the deaths for the first eight days of the month are as follows: pneumonia , grip , acute bronchitis ." at the rhode island state institutions there are nearly cases of the disease-- at the state prison alone--but at the state reform school for girls there is not one case, as this school gives better hygienic care to the inmates. but the great reason is the girls are not dissipated and nature does not have to produce the germs in their systems. reformers are often bombarded with statistics by brewery owners, distillers and those whose ideas are regulated by personal benefits. the favorite weapon is the story of the man who lived to be old and always drank or smoked. here is a reprint of such a story: hale and hearty at . new jerseyman chews tobacco as preventive of disease. newton, n. j., dec. .--charles ashford shafer, sushex county's oldest resident, celebrated his one hundred and second birthday at the home of his son, george shafer, to-day. mr. shafer is still active, hale and hearty, and walks several miles a day. he was born a few miles from here and has spent all his life in this section. for many years he conducted a distillery. the centenarian declares that chewing tobacco is a means of preventing disease, and he has been chewing it since a boy. mr. shafer reads without the aid of glasses. but wait a minute--here is a better one: teetotaler dead at . west virginian never tasted liquor or tobacco in his life. wheeling, w. va., nov. .--henderson cremeans, known to be the oldest man in west virginia and probably the oldest in the united states, died to-day at the home of his grandson, clark cremeans, near point pleasant, mason county, aged years. he never tasted liquor or tobacco in his life. and when we study statistics of the insurance business we may rest assured that they are correct, for an insurance company gets a premium on every policy and regulates its action upon the correct statistics. here is another reprint: says prohibition in russia will save , men insurance expert claims that if czar carries out present intention, loss of half million in war will be made up in decade. new york, dec. .--results of an investigation in which an entirely new set of statistics had been gathered were put before the association of life insurance presidents at their annual meeting at the hotel astor yesterday and threw a new light on the influence of alcoholism, overeating, undereating, and other factors in shortening lives. the investigation, which has just been completed, concerned the causes of premature deaths in the last years among the , , policy holders of leading insurance companies. the object of the investigation was to determine which types of persons could be insured safely at regular rates, which ones should pay extra premiums, and which ones should be refused. the results were given by arthur hunter, chairman of the bureau that made the investigation. "if the government of russia carries out its present intention to abolish permanently all forms of alcoholic beverages, the saving in human life will be enormous," said mr. hunter. "the loss of , men as the result of the present warfare could be made good in less than ten years through complete abstinence from alcoholic beverages by all the inhabitants of russia. "among saloon proprietors, whether they attended the bar or not, there was an extra mortality of per cent., and the causes of death indicated that a free use of alcoholic beverages had caused many of the deaths. the hotel proprietors who attended the bar, either occasionally or regularly, had as high a mortality as the saloon keepers. "among the men who admitted that they had taken alcohol occasionally to excess in the past, but whose habits were considered satisfactory when they were insured, there were deaths, while there would have been only deaths had this group been made up of insured lives in general. the extra mortality was, therefore, over per cent." cardinal gibbons says: "reform must come from within," and he opposes prohibition; but there is no question but what prohibition is the right thing as has been proved, for in some persons the only thing "within" is alcohol and ignorance. society is about our only hope. lord bacon wrote the first half of a book on this subject of an ideal society or community, and he described as a first requisite his "solomon's house," a college or school where natural science was taught. thomas more portrayed the same ideas in his "utopia," a beautiful island where ideal laws and conditions prevailed. campanella also had an idea in his "city of the sun." where temptation is removed better conditions exist, for human nature always wavers and no one is permanently wise. the lad in the country is healthier than the one in the city. why? because there are less temptations in the country. what is it that perfects animals but forcing proper rules upon them? i have experimented with fowl and found that you can perfect them by proper treatment. i raised pullets one spring, and that winter i had eggs galore. the fowl were healthy and happy. i fed them only two meals a day on cracked corn and wheat or the regular "scratch feed" of the market in the morning, and at night gave them scalded meal, seasoned with some salt, pepper and onions; sometimes cooked potato parings, etc., were used. i supplied the fowl with fresh ground bone which held some fat, of course. i always had gravel and ground oyster shells before them, also plenty of fresh water. they had their run and found grass both in summer and winter, and had a dry, roomy house. meat is not only unnecessary to animal life, but is injurious. my hens laid more eggs than any others about and were bright, active and healthy, yet they had no meat during all the winter. the bone was not necessary, for i had at times fed poultry a little fat or oil instead of the ground bone, and they did just as well. the mind has a great effect on the digestion, and it is necessary in selecting our food and drink to have it agreeable. of course, this does not mean that because something tastes good we should use it, for poisons often taste pleasant. we mean that from a variety of salutary food we should select what we like, and again any combination, adjustment or preparation which enhances the food is very useful. for instance: potatoes mashed, mixed with eggs, flour, pepper and salt and other articles which are not injurious, and then fried in a little butter are very agreeable, and many such manipulations of foods are wise. but spices, coffee, tea and such condiments contain tannin and poisons and should be eschewed. if a person should suddenly change his diet from a liberal one to mush and skim-milk it might give him indigestion and disgust, for the organs try to adapt themselves to certain kinds of food; and if the persons cannot take a vacation while reforming their diet, it might be better to wait until they can. after a fit of sickness one can start with the right kind of food and drink and improve by it. people who are raised on simple food relish it and keep happy and healthy. here is a reprint which proves this to be true: "according to census reports, persons who live years or more are very scarce. the united states, with a population of more than , , , is given credit for only . germany's population is , , and its quota of centenarians is . great britain, with a population of , , , has . france, with , , , claims . bulgaria, with , , inhabitants, boasts of , , and roumania, with , , people, has , centenarians. the last named little countries eat little meat and use a great deal of milk and dark bread." the persons who used tobacco, etc., and lived to be old might have lived much longer if they had been abstemious. william smellie in his "philosophy of natural history" records cases where persons have lived to be over years old, and some of the oldest people, for instance, capt. diamond, was a simple living man and lived to be (when i last heard from him). he never even used sugar and was an old bachelor, showing that simple life allows continence. it has been proved that meat allows an alkaloid condition in the intestines which generates poison producing germs, while vegetable food, like oat-meal, etc., produces an acid condition which, it is claimed, "prevents the generation of microbes and poisons which produce premature old age." the large intestine when retaining the elements from the bowels too long becomes a "filth reservoir." prof. metchnikoff says that animals having a greater length to the large intestines do not live as long as those with shorter large intestines, which cannot breed the poisonous bacteria so well, yet he is puzzled by the long life proportionately of the squirrel, which has a long intestine, and he says he has found few of the "dreaded bacteria" in the intestine of the squirrel. (this is because the squirrel has not the noisome elements here which harbor germs.) the recent discoveries that vegetable food inhibits the generation of the microbes or renders them unnecessary is an object lesson which tells us to live upon the foods as i recommend, for the squirrel lives upon vegetable food or nuts, which are seeds with vaco-cell forming molecules. we need not discard the use of a few condiments of a mild nature from our food, and a little salt, pepper or onion, etc., may not be prohibited. it has been found that a good regime is made up of a breakfast of skim-milk and well cooked oat-meal; a dinner of boiled potatoes, eggs or fish and boiled rice and skim-milk, and a supper of skim-milk, rice and perhaps boiled beans. if you are not a hard worker you should not use too many beans or any excess of proteid foods, and a few boiled onions, etc., may be added to the dinner if desired. a little butter may be used with food if skim-milk is used, but the use of an excess of rich milk loads the blood with too much grease. the outside hull of grains, beans, peas, etc., contain cellulin, an indigestible woody fibre which acts as a mechanical laxative to the bowels and aids health if you can use coarse food. of course, invalids could not always use such food, as their stomach can hardly digest milk or eggs. fruit and acids should not be used as foods by invalids. the germ of grain and seeds in general is a great nerve food or "spark generator," but as it is highly organized it changes easily and so is not used in fine flour. my theory is that the whole universe is interdependent and that there can be no separation of its component parts. we and all things are joined together the same as a knitted sock--joined by invisible lines of force; and as all matter is simply a peculiar aspect or motion of spirit or the ether, and as no part of the ether can be separated or absolutely isolated, it is an axiom that the universe is one. nothing can be moved except there is a fulcrum. it may be infinitesimal or like an isthmus though. the great scientists are now admitting this to be a fact. prof. edgar lucien larkin says: "in the ultimate, what distinction can be drawn between organic and inorganic matter, since mind is matter or force? therefore, is it not but matter or force under a different aspect or relation to surrounding appearances, or, in other words, are not all things a unit?" this scientist further says: "the ultimate distinction between inorganic and organic matter is the inscrutable mystery." and here is where i am able to explain this great mystery. life is spirit and i have discovered a process in nature, which we explain in other works more extensively, by which she forms invisible "vacuum cells" in matter, which are conscious and with a potential of radio-activity, and this is the principle of all life and form in organic bodies and in the snow-flake, etc. the process is simple and is from alternations of heat and cold. in the bioplasmic foods of nature the germ of seeds, for instance, we find a peculiar arrangement of the molecules. they contain a cell center of soluble sulphur, silicon or phosphorus. this arrangement facilitates the formation of the white spark, and the formation of this wonderful food in plants depends upon the soil. alkali, and carbonic acid gas, in the nascent state, makes sulphur, silicon, phosphorus and iron soluble. i have evaporated five gallons of spring water and obtained the solid residue and found out the wonderful nature of the cell center elements. these minerals are hydrated and at a temperature of degrees they are liquids, and at degrees they are solids. this explains the reason why certain proteid foods are "bioplasmic" and how easily the white sparks are generated in the nerves and brain. the bodily or tissue temperature when life is active is degrees and the oxygenized blood and evaporation from the lungs and skin reduces the temperature of the molecules to and the life vacuo are formed. oxygenized blood cells are discs rotating on an axis like an alkali. i have in other publications explained that meat was a second-hand food, in which many life molecules were exploded (gelatine), and that the proteid portions of milk, eggs and vegetable foods contained "cartridges of life and power," that is, molecules having sulphur or phosphorus centers which under proper conditions formed vaco-cells, especially the germ of all seeds which is absent in fine flour usually. i discovered the paradox of temperatures by accident. i had been in correspondence with sir william crookes, president of the british association for the advancement of science in england, and in connection with a scientific matter he had advised me to evaporate the water of a certain spring, and it was in following out his directions that i found "the center forming molecular elements," which nature uses in forming foods. there have been many changes in the ideas of scientists within a few years. several years ago i was taken to task for stating that the wave lengths of a line of force could be shortened or increased by the nature of the substance which it passed through, but one of the great professors--garrett p. serviss--has just stated: "so the waves of radiant energy sent out from the sun are not heat, but have been set going by heat in the sun and can be transformed into heat again on encountering the earth." anyone may perform two interesting experiments which prove the statements which i make in regard to "the white spark." when the soldering compound which is sold to fill up holes in marbleized iron ware is melted and dropped into cold water, peculiar little bodies are formed--little rubber bags or cells filled with powdered sulphur at the center; the compound being composed of sulphur, rubber and quicksilver in this experiment follows the natural laws, and the opposite features of heat conduction causes the sulphur to be encased with the more organic rubber. the other experiment is dropping melted tinsmith's solder into water at a temperature of degrees when hollow balls are formed, if care is taken in dropping the metal in a globule. the great provisions of nature are so sufficient and magnificent that it is proved that the worriments of mankind are imaginary, and it is a fact that they are the result of physical disorders brought about by improper food, drink and habits. when i see the beautiful sunshine pouring life-giving rays upon everyone and every atom in the world, when i see the grandeur and stable travel of the bodies of the sidereal system, when i see the unperturbed growth of the trees, plants and grains, the gentle rain and the whispering winds, i can say surely the human acts of greed, malice and crime are the results of a distorted mind. judge swann says fifty per cent. of those who are brought to trial in the criminal courts of new york city are addicted to the use of narcotics. judge collins says that since the "boylan law" allows the sale of medicines containing a certain percentage of narcotics, the health department cannot pass laws restricting such sales without contradicting the state statutes. coffee, tea and other insidious poisons are agents of the "devil" also. chocolate and roasted wheat, peanuts, etc., are poisonous. roasting often creates empyrean oil. it is the ascetics or those who live upon vegetable foods, milk and eggs with some fish, or those who do not overeat and live the "simple life," who look upon the grandeur of nature properly and ignore the contingencies of life which others commit suicide over or ply the cry of incongruity in nature. consider the religious martyrs of the medieval ages and see how the little "jap" with his ration of rice went to battle without fear and endured hardships and put the russian army beneath his feet. it is the same with the abstemious prize fighter. he has more coolness and endurance than the beef steak eater and libertine, as proved by freddy welsh, the world's champion lightweight. the harvard football squad had a number of men stricken with appendicitis after training upon a meat diet, supposing that meat was a requisite to hard work, a fallacy too often disproved. jess willard, the world's champion pugilist, says he never smoked nor drank liquor in his life, and at the end of the battle with johnson he felt as if he could fight "a thousand rounds." we all wish peace, happiness, health, strength and success. the only differences between us are how to obtain these desires, and yet a little candid observation will show us the truth. the first transaction must be a determination and an agreement to become independent of all other codes and methods except those by which the above objects can be attained. there are many habits which appeal to us as being a means of personal well being, and yet they are insidious enemies. it is the regime which has a reaction for our health and happiness which we should follow, and we must have sense enough to eschew the methods which are sure to bring a subsequent disaster to us, even if they may induce a temporary pleasure, for there can be but one correct path which leads to elysian joys. nature is wiser than we are and we must not set ourselves up as her superiors, for if we do we are sure to fall. we must not make use of her productions until she has finished them, and we must not use things for food or drink which she has arranged for some other purpose. sugar is an unfinished product of nature, and leaves, barks, etc., containing poisons are not intended for our consumption, and we should not breathe smoke into our lungs when it is intended that only pure air should pass into them. we should not entertain passion for passion's sake when it was intended only for reproduction. secretions in ductless and sac filling glands are for reabsorption. if i take the finished products of nature and undo them again, i am as unwise as if i used them before nature finished them. the breweries take the beautiful grains and degenerate them and people use the liquid poisons and do not realize that they are insulting nature and ruining themselves. we take grains, etc., and roast or burn them into poisons and seduce ourselves with the mistaken idea that we are using harmless and innocent food or drink. we steal the property of others, we extort from them, we are jealous of them with the delusion that we are the benefitted parties, but nothing is more untrue than this idea. all of the mental, social and physical effects of greed, malice and immorality are indelibly disastrous to us, and we have a mistaken idea of our needs and of the things which make happiness. what the european war has demonstrated. we have previously stated that four hours labor per day was enough for any one, and this would carry on the world's industry adequately and to prove this we give an excerpt from an article by the great english divine--rev. r. j. campbell, his statistics prove that poverty is unnecessary and that wage earners can be paid enough to buy what they wish to make happiness--, pianos and other so-called luxuries, and automobiles could of course be substituted for pianos if their desires should require such. at the present price of automobiles they are within reach of the man who will give up drinking and using tobacco or other narcotics and i want to say that i believe riding in one of the new type steel bodied automobiles with a magneto ignition is a great health augmenter as these cars when running become charged with electricity and i quite often get a shock from one of my automobiles if i happen to touch part of my hand to the body of the car while the other part has hold of the side shift lever. this statical electricity has been proved by dr. w. j. morton, of new york city, to be a wonderful therapeutical agency. when properly supplied to the body it causes the blood discs to take up more oxygen from the air and augments the power of the vital apparatus. (see his address published in the november, , transactions of the american institute of electrical engineers.) riding in a carriage or car will aid the circulation of the body fluids without waste of our own energy, the motions massage the body, the same as muscular action. work is a benefit to us but how much do we need is a question,--a sick person can not work and a person's training and condition must regulate this,--too much work draws the vital force from the vital organs and mental work is absolutely injurious in sickness, the brain draws on the vitality to the detriment of the vital organs of the body, yet again the cultivated mind has a power to govern the base faculties which debilitate the body. part of the english divine's article which we have referred to: "one of the strangest paradoxes about this period of destructiveness through which we are passing is that there is very little dire poverty about. it has taught me a lesson, a lesson which probably the workers as a class are assimilating too, namely, that destitution and the degradation which so generously accompanies it =could be got rid of in a month= in time of peace if we were only in earnest to do it. "it is caused simply by an unfair distribution of wealth. we always knew that, but what we did not know was that it could be so speedily remedied. we thought it would take a long time even if the nation were willing to tackle the problem seriously, which it has not yet shown any anxiety to do. we were afraid of drastic experiments of a social nature, with the consequent displacement of capital, the shock given to that very delicate entity, the national credit, and so on. "go more slowly, was the universal cry. give us breathing space. these drastic changes one after the other--all in the direction of making the rich pay more into the pockets of the poor--are very dangerous. you are impairing public confidence; do wait awhile before you attempt anything further. you are imposing a tax on industry which is certain to hinder productiveness. "and we were wrong, the whole lot of us--kaiser, german bureau, british tories, hesitant liberals, landowners, bankers, manufacturers, shopkeepers, taxpayers generally, and probably the proletariat, too. it is nothing short of amazing. here we are hurling our accumulated stores of wealth into hell, the hell of war, and the workers as a whole were never so well off. "we are able to pay, and we do pay, without complaining. we are doing it without suffering very greatly, without hearing the cry of hunger going up from our congested areas as it has too often done in time of peace, and without the slightest apprehension that we are drawing near to the end of our strength. "we shall be able to go on doing it for years if need be. the savings of the working classes have hardly yet been touched for national purposes, and if report speaks true there has been a not too creditable increase in the purchase of cheap luxuries--and luxuries not commonly accounted cheap, too, such as pianos--among a section of these, unskilled laborers especially. they are not unpatriotic, but is it to be wondered at that they should suddenly feel themselves well-to-do and fail to realize that war is economic wastage as well as wholesale murder? "'three pounds a week, and no 'usband!' a lady engaged in munition work is credited with saying--'wy, it's 'eaven!' there is humor in the sentiment, one must confess, though it was not complimentary to the absent husband. "we have withdrawn not less than four million men from productive occupations and set them to smash and kill instead. "think of it! and then remember that those men have to be equipped and maintained somehow or other by the rest of us, and that most of them are the very pick of the country's early manhood. and we can afford to do it! we can do it, and in the process make an end of destitution for the time being and secure to wage-earners a higher standard of comfort than they have ever enjoyed before. "will the electors of great britain, rich and poor, try to digest that fact and grasp its implications? the logic of it is that we can if and when we choose get rid forever of the crying disgrace of starvation and misery at one end of the social scale and senseless ostentation at the other. "the thing is demonstrated now. "the army as it exists to-day is a fine all-around leveller. a good many artificial prejudices and social distinctions are being swept away by the power of actual daily comradeship in the face of death. these four million citizen soldiers have votes. how will they use them when they come home? "let the lesson be driven well home. we can do all that is required if we want to do it. behold the economic miracle of to-day, and consider what is possible to-morrow. there need never be another hungry mouth. no honest man ought to have to dread the loss of a job or to lower his self-respect by seeking the aid of the poor law. "it is all nonsense to say that the problem of destitution is unsolvable or that our resources will not bear the institution of a standard living wage for everybody and not for the aristocracy of labor only. "after the debacle of france was apparently ground to powder, her manhood decimated, her trade ruined, her treasury empty, and an enormous indemnity to pay to her triumphant foe. she recovered so quickly and completely, to the surprise of everybody, that in bismarck, like the bully he was, wanted to hit her again, and would have done so but for queen victoria and the british government." i have shown how to rise above poverty even when the capitalists grind the worker down to a wage inadequate to his service, yet this is not a just condition, and when the war in europe is over many workers will be back to their countries, to work. there may be lack of employment then, but let the four hours per day schedule be put in operation and let the pay be proper and all will be well. let the capitalist adjust himself to the fact that the worker is his brother and that theocratic democracy is god's law. the air, the water and all necessities are one man's as much as another's. the kaiser, king george or the president of france must drink the same water which his lowly brother has once drank and breathe the same air which he has breathed. a king has water brought to him--it may be that this water,--the very identical molecules, were once in the blood and body of a lowly tiller of the soil; he may have drank it, excreted it, it went to the river, to the ocean, then evaporated to the mountain top, and was again precipitated to the earth and leached into the king's well. the voters have the power to adjust the law; if they belie themselves who is to blame? let them institute the initiative and referendum and the recall of judges first, then make the proper laws to raise man to the social position where he belongs. it is well known that much of the poverty and misery of the world has been caused by alcohol, and the use of narcotics is also not far behind in the cause of degradation and misery. the prohibition laws which have been instituted in russia prove these statements to be correct and to show the wonderful prosperity which ensues from temperance. i give a statement from russian minister of finance bark. he says: "on the other hand, there is nothing illusory or specious about the russians' prosperity. it rests upon the incontrovertible fact of the russian people's increased earnings and savings. "when, a year ago, the savings banks showed a monthly increase of , , rubles, it was regarded as phenomenal. but that was only the beginning. during the month of january the savings banks alone showed an increase in deposits of , , rubles. this is accounted for principally by the growing thrift and economy of the peasants since the enforcement of prohibition, by their greater earning power and the higher wages they command. this marvellous prosperity makes russia capable of raising large numbers of successful internal loans, and it is by this means chiefly that we hope to defray the expenses of the war, which have now reached , , , rubles monthly." blessings often come to us masquerading as evil; this terrible war has its benefits. while death must come to everyone sometime, it may be that we put too much stress on the fact that so many lives have been sent to the better shore within such a short space of time, and it is best to believe in the axiom that what is--is right. there probably will never be another war, and perhaps, it must be that this one is the lever to throw the "devil" into oblivion. the germans have seen the revelations as well as the other belligerents. here is what a writer in berlin says: "on tuesday and friday there is no meat to be had. on monday and thursday the consumption of fats is forbidden. some alcoholic drinks are forbidden to be sold after o'clock at night. they are mostly liqueurs. "the enforced abstinence from meat on two days of the week has been accepted everywhere with personal satisfaction. you agree with the german when he tells you that he has eaten too much meat all his life, and is glad the government has made him reform. so on these days he eats fish, oysters and vegetables, and declares he feels the better for it." this item from augustus baech is illuminating and instructive. grease is not a colloid; it does not absorb the gastric juice like a better organized element, and thus the stomach is irritated. there is a law of nature by which the molecules affect matter; crystalline substances in solution are readily drawn into colloids. a system of symbols helps understanding in the matter--let us represent an acid by a perpendicular line, an alkali by a horizontal line, a crystal by a pyramid and a colloid by a globule; flat surfaces oppose round ones and a confusion of straight forces would produce a spiral force. there is a great law of human brotherhood, yes, more than that--a law of the brotherhood of all animal life. the hatred of the english, germans and russians in this flaming war of passion is wrong--let us remember st. peter's vision of the basket let down from heaven with all kinds of men in it. the reform of diet and habits will relieve the tension of malice, hatred and jealousy, the lessened rage of sexual passion will curtail the undue birth rate, the nations will not need to conquer more territory and the social conditions will be adjusted. how beautiful would it be to see all men living in peace, harmony, prosperity and happiness. let us regain our reason and settle down to truth and common sense and have peace and correct understanding between individuals and nations. it can be done, and this will be the millennium. transcriber's notes minor punctuation typos have been silently corrected. page : possible typo: "differentations" for "differentiations." (orig: the differentations and forms in the universe) page : changed "scientis" to "scientist." (orig: le bon the great scientis,) page : changed "conciousness" to "consciousness." (orig: each spark has a quiet center or conciousness) page : changed "miscrocope" to "microscope." (orig: as no miscrocope has ever detected) page : changed "cartirdges" to "cartridges." (orig: vegetable foods contained "cartirdges of life and power,") page : changed "debiliate" to "debilitate." (orig: base faculties which debiliate the body.) page : changed "axion" to "axiom." (orig: believe in the axion that what is--is right.) none modern magic. by m. schele de vere. _non fumum ex fulgore, sed ex fumo dare lucem cogitat, ut speciosa dehinc miracula promat._ horace. [illustration] new york: g. p. putnam's sons, fourth avenue and twenty-third street. . entered according to act of congress, in the year , by g. p. putnam's sons, in the office of the librarian of congress, at washington. lange, little & hillman, printers, electrotypers and stereotypers, to wooster street, n. y. preface. the main purpose of our existence on earth--aside from the sacred and paramount duty of securing our salvation--is undoubtedly to make ourselves masters of the tangible world around us, as it stands revealed to our senses, and as it was expressly made subject to our will by the creator. we are, however, at the same time, not left without information about the existence of certain laws and the occurrence of certain phenomena, which belong to a world not accessible to us by means of our ordinary senses, and which yet affect seriously our intercourse with nature and our personal welfare. this knowledge we obtain sometimes, by special favor, as direct revelation, and at other times, for reasons as yet unknown, at the expense of our health and much suffering. by whatever means it may reach us, it cannot be rejected; to treat it with ridicule or to decline examining it, would be as unwise as unprofitable. the least that we can do is to ascertain the precise nature of these laws, and, after stripping these phenomena of all that can be proved to be merely incidental or delusive, to compare them with each other, and to arrange them carefully according to some standard of classification. the main interest in such a task lies in the discovery of the grain of truth which is often found concealed in a mass of rubbish, and which, when thus brought to light, serves to enlarge our knowledge and to increase our power. the difficulty lies in the absence of all scientific investigation, and in the innate tendency of man to give way, wantonly or unconsciously, to mental as well as to sensual delusion. the aim of this little work is, therefore, limited to the gathering of such facts and phenomena as may serve to throw light upon the nature of the magic powers with which man is undoubtedly endowed. its end will be attained if it succeeds in showing that he actually does possess powers which are not subject to the general laws of nature, but more or less independent of space and time, and which yet make themselves known partly by appeals to the ordinary senses and partly by peculiar phenomena, the result of their activity. these higher powers, operating exclusively through the spirit of man, are part of his nature, which has much in common with that of the deity, since he was created by god "in his own image," and the lord "breathed into his nostrils the breath of life and man became a living _soul_." this soul is not, as materialists maintain, merely the sum of all perceptions obtained by the collective activity of bodily organs--a conclusion which would finally make it the product of mere material atoms, subject to constant physical and chemical changes. even if it were possible--which we deny--to reduce our whole inner life, including memory, imagination, and reason, to a system of purely physical laws, and thus to admit its destruction at the moment of death, there would still remain the _living soul_, coming directly from the most high, and destined to continue throughout eternity. this soul is, hence, independent of time. nor is it bound by space, except so far as it can commune with the outer world only by means of the body, with which it is united in this life. the nature of this union is a mystery as yet unfathomed, but precisely because it is such a mystery, we have no right to assume that it is altogether indissoluble during life; or, that it ceases entirely at the moment of death. there is, on the contrary, overwhelming evidence that the soul may, at times, act independently of the body, and the forces developed on such occasions we have, for the sake of convenience rather than on account of the special fitness of the term, preferred to call _magic_ powers. there is no evidence whatever before us as to the mutual relations of soul and body after death. here, necessarily, all must be mere speculation. nothing more, therefore, will be claimed for the following suggestions. when the body becomes unfit to serve any longer as an abode and an instrument to the soul, the tie which was formed before or at the moment of birth is gradually loosened. the soul no longer receives impressions from the outer world such as the body heretofore conveyed to it, and with this cessation of mutual action ends, also, the community of sensation. the living soul--in all probability--becomes conscious of its separation from the dead body and from the world; it continues to exist, but in loneliness and self-dependence. its life, however, becomes only the more active and the more self-conscious as it is no longer consumed by intercourse with the world, nor disturbed by bodily disorders and infirmities. the soul recalls with ease all long-forgotten or much-dimmed sensations. what it feels most deeply at first is, we may presume, the double grief at being separated from the body, with which it has so long been closely connected, and at the sins it has committed during life. this repentance will be naturally all the heartier, as it is no longer interrupted by sensual impressions. after a while this grief, like all sorrows, begins to moderate, and the soul returns to a state of peace: sooner, of course, in the case of persons who in their earthly life already had secured peace by the only means revealed to man; later, by those who had given themselves entirely up to the world and their passions. at the same time the living soul enters into communion with other souls, retaining, however, its individuality in sex, character, and temper, and, possibly, proceeds on a course of gradual purification, till it reaches the desired haven in perfect reconciliation with god. during this intermediate time there is nothing known to us which would absolutely forbid the idea that these living souls continue to maintain some kind of intercourse with the souls of men on earth, with whom they share all that constitutes their essential nature, save only the one fact of bondage to the body. nor is there any reason why the soul in man should not be able, by its higher powers, to perceive and to consort with souls detached from mortal bodies, although this intercourse must needs be limited and imperfect because of the vast difference between a free soul and one bound to an earthly, sinful body. for man, when he dies, leaves behind in this world the body, dead and powerless, a corpse. he continues, however, to live, a soul, with all the peculiar powers which make up our spiritual organism; that is to say, the true man, in the higher sense of the word, exists still, though he dwell in another world. this soul has now no longer earthly organs of sense to do its bidding, but it still controls nature which was made subject to its will; it has, moreover, a new set of powers which represent in the higher world its higher body, and the character of its new active life will be all the more elevated, as these organs are more spiritual. man cannot but continue to develop, to grow, and to ripen, in the next world as he did in this; his nature and his destiny are alike incompatible with sudden transitions and with absolute rest. the soul must become purer and more useful; its organs more subtle and more powerful, and it is of this life of gradual improvement and purification that we may occasionally obtain glimpses by that communion which no doubt still exists between earth-bound souls and souls freed from such bondage. there are, it is well known, many theologians who sternly deny any such further development of man's spiritual part, and insist upon looking at this life as the only time of probation accorded to him, at the end of which immediate and eternal judgment is rendered. their views are entitled to the utmost consideration and respect. but different opinions are entertained by some of their brethren, not less eminent in piety, profound learning, and critical acumen, and hence at least equally deserving of being attentively listened to and carefully regarded. so it is also with the belief in the possibility of holding intercourse with disembodied spirits. superficial observers are ready to doubt or to deny, to sneer haughtily, or to scoff contemptuously. but men of great eminence have, from time immemorial, treated the question with great attention and deep interest. melanchthon wrote: "i have myself seen ghosts, and know many trustworthy people who affirm that they have not only seen them, but even carried on conversations with them" (de anima recogn.: wittemb. , p. ), and luther said nearly the same; calvin and knox also expressed similar convictions. a faith which has lasted through all ages of man's history, and has such supporters, cannot but have some foundation, and deserves full investigation. alchemy, with its visionary hopes, contained, nevertheless, the germ of modern chemistry, and astrology taught already much that constitutes the astronomy of our day. the same is, no doubt, the case with modern magic, and here, also, we may safely expect to find that "out of darkness cometh light." contents. i. witchcraft ii. black and white magic iii. dreams iv. visions v. ghosts vi. divination vii. possession viii. magnetism ix. miraculous cures x. mysticism modern magic. i. witchcraft. "witchcraft is an illegitimate miracle; a miracle is legitimate witchcraft." --jacob boehme. perhaps in no direction has the human mind ever shown greater weakness than in the opinions entertained of witchcraft. if hecate, the oldest patroness of witches, wandered about at night with a gruesome following, and frightened lovers at their stealthy meeting, or lonely wanderers on open heaths and in dark forests, her appearance was at least in keeping with the whole system of greek mythology. tacitus does not frighten us by telling us that witches used to meet at salt springs (ann. xiii. ), nor the edda when speaking of the "bearers of witches' kettles," against whom even the salic law warns all good christians. but when the council of ancyra, in the fifth century, fulminates its edicts against women riding at night upon weird animals in company with diana and herodias, the strange combination of names and the dread penalties threatened, make us almost think of witches as of real and most marvelous beings. and when wise councillors of french parliaments and gray dignitaries of the holy german empire sit in judgment over a handful of poor old women, when great english bishops and zealous new england divines condemn little children to death, because they have made pacts with the devil, attended his sabbaths, and bewitched their peaceful neighbors--then we stand amazed at the delusions, to which the wisest and best among us are liable. christianity, it is true, shed for a time such a bright light over the earth, that the works of darkness were abhorred and the power of the evil one seemed to be broken, according to the sacred promises that the seed of woman should bruise the serpent's head. thus charlemagne, in his fierce edict issued after the defeat of the saxons, ordered that death should be inflicted on all who after pagan manner gave way to devilish delusions, and believed that men or women could be witches, persecuted and killed them; or, even went so far as to consume their flesh and give it to others for like purposes! but almost at the same time the belief in the devil, distinctly maintained in holy writ, spread far and wide, and as early as the fourth century diseases were ascribed not to organic causes, but to demoniac influences, and the devil was once more seen bodily walking to and fro on the earth, accompanied by a host of smaller demons. it was but rarely that a truly enlightened man dared to combat the universal superstition. thus agobard, archbishop of lyons, shines like a bright star on the dark sky of the ninth century by his open denunciation of all belief in possession, in the control of the weather or the decision of difficulties by ordeal. for like reasons we ought to revere the memory of john of salisbury, who in the twelfth century declared the stories of nightly assemblies of witches, with all their attending circumstances, to be mere delusions of poor women and simple men, who fancied they saw bodily what existed only in their imagination. the church hesitated, now requiring her children to believe in a devil and demons, and now denouncing all faith in supernatural beings. the thirteenth century, by leibnitz called the darkest of all, developed the worship of the evil one to its fullest perfection; the writings of st. augustine were quoted as confirming the fact that demons and men could and did intermarry, and the djinns of the east were mentioned as spirits who "sought the daughters of men for wives." the first trace of a witches' dance is found in the records of a fearful auto-da-fè held in toulouse in the year , and about a century later the dominican monk, jaquier, published the first complete work on witches and witchcraft. he represented them as organised--after the prevailing fashion of the day--in a regular guild, with apprentices, companions, and masters, who practised a special art for a definite purpose. it is certainly most remarkable that the same opinion, in all its details, has been entertained in this century even, and by one of the most famous german philosophers, eschenmayer. while the zeal and madness of devil-worshippers were growing on one side, persecution became more violent and cruel on the other side, till the trials of witches assumed gigantic proportions and the proceedings were carried on according to a regular method. these trials originated, invariably, with theologians, and although the system was not begun by the papal government it obtained soon the pope's legal sanction by the famous bull of innocent viii., _summis desiderantes_, dated december , , and decreeing the relentless persecution of all heretical witches. the far-famed _malleus maleficatum_ (cologne, ), written by the two celebrated judges of witches, sprenger and gremper, and full of the most extraordinary views and statements, reduced the whole to a regular method, and obtained a vast influence over the minds of that age. the rules and forms it prescribed were not only observed in almost all parts of christendom, but actually retained their force and legality till the end of the seventeenth century. nor were these views and practices confined to catholic countries; a hundred and fifty years after the reformation, a great german jurist and a protestant, carpzon, published his _praxis criminalis_, in which precisely the same opinions were taught and the same measures were prescribed. the puritans, it is well-known, pursued a similar plan, and the new world has not been more fortunate in avoiding these errors than the old world. a curious feature in the above-mentioned works is the fact that both abound in expressions of hatred against the female sex, and still more curious, though disgraceful in the extreme, that the special animosity shown by judges of witchcraft against women is solely based upon the weight which they attached to the purport of the mosaic inhibition: "thou shalt not suffer a _witch_ to live" (exodus xii. ). these are dark pages in the history of christendom, blackened by the smoke of funeral piles and stained with the blood of countless victims of cruel superstition. for here the peculiarity was that in the majority of cases not the humble sufferers whose lives were sacrificed, but the haughty judges were the true criminals. the madness seems to have been contagious, for protestant authorities were as bloodthirsty as catholics; the inquisition waged for generations unceasing war against this new class of heretics among the nations of the romanic race. germany saw great numbers sacrificed in a short space of time, and in sober england, even, three thousand lost their lives during the long parliament alone, while, according to barrington, the whole number who perished amounted to not less than thirty thousand! if only few were sacrificed in new england, the exception was due more to the sparse population than to moderation; in south america, on the contrary, the persecution was carried on with relentless cruelty. and all this happened while fierce war was raging almost everywhere, so that, while the sword destroyed the men, the fire consumed the women! occasionally most startling contrasts would be exhibited by different governments. in the north, james i., claiming to be as wise as solomon, and more learned than any man in christendom, imagined that he was persecuted by the evil one on account of his great religious zeal, and saw in every catholic an instrument of his adversary. his wild fancy was cunningly encouraged by those who profited by his tyranny, and catholics were represented as being, one and all, given up to the devil, the mass and witchcraft, the three unholy allies opposed to the trinity! in the south, the republic of venice, with all its petty tyranny and proverbial political cruelty, stood almost alone in all christendom as opposed to persecutions of wizards and witches, and fought the battle manfully on the side of enlightenment and christian charity. the horrors of witch-trials soon reached a height which makes us blush for humanity. the accused were tortured till they confessed their guilt, so that they might lose not only life upon earth, but also hope for eternity. if, under torture, they declared themselves innocent, but ready to confess their guilt and to die, they were told that in such a case they would die with a falsehood on their lips, and thus forfeit salvation. some of the sufferers were found to have a stigma on their bodies, a place where the nerves had been paralysed, and no pain was consequently felt--this was a sure sign of their being witches, and they were forthwith burnt; if they had no such stigma, the judge decided that the devil marked only his doubtful adherents, and left his trusty followers unmarked! the terror became so great that in the seventeenth century repentant "witches abounded, because it had become customary" merely to hang or to decapitate those who confessed, while all others were burned alive. hundreds suffering of painful diseases or succumbing to unbearable privations, forthwith fancied themselves bewitched, or actually sought relief from the ills of this life by voluntarily appearing before the numerous tribunals for the trial of witchcraft. the minds of men were so thoroughly blinded, that even when husbands testified the impossibility of their wives having attended the witches' sabbath, because they had been lying all night by their side in bed, they were told, and quite ready to believe, that a phantom had taken the place of their absent wives! in one of the most famous trials five women confessed, after suffering unspeakable torture, that they had disinterred an infant, the child of one of their number, and supped upon it with the devil; the father of the child persevered till the grave was opened, and behold, the child's body was there unharmed! but the judges declared it to be a phantom sent by the evil one, since the confession of the criminals was worth more than mere ocular proof, and the women were burnt accordingly. (horst. demonomagie, i. p. .) the most signal proof of the absurdity of all such charges was obtained in our own country. here the number of those who complained of being plagued and injured by demoniac agencies became larger in precise proportion as trials increased and condemnations succeeded. but when nineteen of the accused had been executed, and the judges becoming appalled at the daily growing number of complaints, set some of the prisoners free, and declined to arrest others, there was suddenly an end of these grievances, no more accounts of enchantment and witchcraft were heard, and soon the evil disappeared entirely. it was a similar return to reason which at last led in europe also to a reaction. the doge of venice and the great council appealed to the pope, leo x., to put a curb upon the intemperate zeal of his ministers, and he saw himself forced to check the merciless persecution. occasionally voices had been raised, already before that public appeal, condemning such wholesale slaughter; among these were men like bacon of verulam, reginald scotus, and, marvel of marvels, two famous jesuits, tanner and spee. and yet even these merciful and enlightened men never, for a moment, doubted the genuineness of witchcraft and its fatal effects. father spee, a most learned man, writing against the ceaseless persecutions of pretended witches, nevertheless declared, in , in his renowned _cautio criminalis_, by far the best work written on that side of the question, that "there are in the world some few wizards and enchanters, which could not be denied by any body without frivolity and great ignorance," and even bayle, while condemning the cruelty of witches' trials, seriously proposes to punish witches for their "ill-will." vaudé, the well-known librarian of cardinal mazarin, wrote an able work as an apology of all the great men who had been suspected of witchcraft, including even clemens v., sylvester ii., and other popes, and a renowned capuchin monk, d'autun, pursued the same subject with infinite subtlety of thought and great happiness of diction in his _l'incrédulité savante et la crédulité ignorante_. a witch was, however, still condemned to be burned in , in germany; fortunately the judge, a distinguished jurist of the university of halle, was remonstrated with by an esteemed colleague, and thus induced to examine himself as well as the whole grievous subject with unsparing candor. this led him to see clearly the error involved in trials of witchcraft, and he wrote, in , a most valuable and influential work against the crime of magic. he succeeded, especially, in destroying the enormous prestige heretofore enjoyed by del rio's great work _disquisitiones magicæ_, the favorite hand-book of judges of all lands, which was even adopted, though from the pen of a jesuit, by the protestants of germany. in no case, however, were the personal existence of the devil, and his activity upon earth, denied by these writers; on the contrary, it is well known that luther, melanchthon, and even calvin, continued always to speak of satan as having a corporeal existence and as being perceptible to human senses. the negation contended for applied only to his direct agency in the physical world; his moral influence was ever readily admitted. sporadic cases of witchcraft, and their trial by high courts of justice, have continued to occur down to our day. maria theresa was the first peremptorily to forbid any further persecutions on account of _veneficium_, as it had become the fashion to call the acts of magic by which men or beasts were said to be injured. there are, however, writers who maintain, in this century, and in our generation, even, the direct agency of the devil in daily life, and see in demoniac sufferings the punishment of the wicked in this life already. the question of how much truth there may have been in this belief in witchcraft, held by so many nations, and persevered in during so many centuries, has never yet been fully answered. it is hardly to be presumed that during this long period all men, even the wisest and subtlest, should have been completely blinded or utterly demented. many historians as well as philosophers have looked upon witchcraft as a mere creation of the inquisition. rome, they argue, was in great danger, she had no new dogma to proclaim which would give food to inquiring minds, and increase the prestige of her power; she was growing unpopular in many countries heretofore considered most faithful and submissive, and she was engaged in various dangerous conflicts with the secular powers. in this embarrassment her inquisitors looked around for some means of escape, and thought a remedy might be found in this new combination of the two traditional crimes of heresy and enchantment. witchcraft, as a crime, because of the deeds of violence with which it was almost invariably associated, belonged before the tribunal of the secular judge; as a sin it was to be punished by the bishop, but as heresy it fell, according to the custom of the day, to the share of neither judge nor bishop, but into the hands of the inquisition. the extreme uniformity of witchcraft from the tagus to the vistula, and in new england as in old england, is adduced as an additional evidence of its having been "manufactured" by the inquisition. nothing is gained, however, by looking upon it as a mere invention; nor would such an explanation apply to the wizards and witches who are repeatedly mentioned and condemned in holy writ. witchcraft was neither purely artificial, a mere delusion, nor can it be accounted for upon a purely natural basis. the essential part in it is the magic force, which does not belong to the natural but to the spiritual part of man. hence it is not so very surprising, as many authors have thought it, that thousands of poor women should have done their best to obtain visions which only led to imprisonment, torture, and death by fire, while they procured for them apparently neither comfort nor wealth, but only pain, horror, and disgrace. for there was mixed up with all this a sensation of pleasure, vague and wild, though it was in conformity with the rude and coarse habits of the age. it is the same with the opium eater and hasheesh smoker, only in a more moderate manner; the delight these pernicious drugs afford is not seen, but the disease, the suffering, and the wretched death they produce, are visible enough. the stories of witches' sabbaths taking place on certain days of the year, arose no doubt from the fact that the prevailing superstition of the times regarded some seasons as peculiarly favorable for the ceremony of anointing one's self with narcotic salves, and this led to a kind of spiritual community on such nights, which to the poor deluded people appeared as a real meeting at appointed places. in like manner there was nothing absolutely absurd or impossible in the idea of a compact with the devil. satan presented himself to the minds of men in those ages as the bodily incarnation of all that is evil and sinful, and hence when they fancied they made a league with him, they only aroused the evil principle within themselves to its fullest energy and activity. it was in fact the selfish, covetous nature of man, ever in arms against moral laws and the commandments of god, which in these cases became distinctly visible and presented itself in the form of a vision. this evil principle, now relieved from all constraint and able to develop its power against a feebly resisting soul, would naturally destroy the poor deluded victim, in body and in spirit. hence the trials of witchcraft had at least some justification, however unwise their form and however atrocious their abuses. the majority of the crimes with which the so-called witches were charged, were no doubt imaginary; but many of the accused also had taken real delight in their evil practices and in the grievous injury they had done to those they hated or envied. nor must it be forgotten that the age in which these trials mainly occurred was emphatically an age of superstition; from the prince on his throne to the clown in his hut, everybody learnt and practiced some kind of magic; the ablest statesmen and the subtlest philosophers, the wisest divines and the most learned physicians, all were more or less adepts of the black art, and many among them became eminently dangerous to their fellow-beings. others, ceaselessly meditating and brooding over charms and demoniac influences, finally came to believe in their own powers of enchantment, and confessed their guilt, although they had sinned only by volition, without ever being able really to call forth and command magic powers. still others labored under a regular panic and saw witchcraft in the simplest events as well as in all more unusual phenomena in nature. a violent tempest, a sudden hailstorm, or an unusual rise in rivers, all were at once attributed to magic influences, and the authorities urged and importuned to prevent a recurrence with all its disastrous consequences by punishing the guilty authors. has not the same insane fury been frequently shown in contagious diseases, when the common people believed their fountains poisoned and their daily bread infected by jews or other suspected classes, and promptly took justice into their own hands? it ought also to be borne in mind, as an apology for the horrible crimes committed by judges and priests in condemning witches, that in their eyes the crime was too enormous and the danger too pressing and universal to admit of delay in investigation, or mercy in judgment. the severe laws of those semi-barbarous times were immediately applied and all means considered fair in eliciting the truth. torture was by no means limited to trials of witches, for some of the greatest statesmen and the most exalted divines had alike to endure its terrors. moreover no age has been entirely free from similar delusions, although the form under which they appear and the power by which they may be supported, differ naturally according to the spirit of the times. science alone cannot protect us against fanaticism, if the heart is once led astray, and fearful crimes have been committed not only in the name of liberty but even under the sanction of the cross. basil the great already restored a slave _ad integrum_, who said he had made a pact with the devil, but the first authentic account of such a transaction occurs in connection with an imperial officer, theophilus of adana, in the days of justinian. his bishop had undeservedly humiliated him and thus aroused in the heart of the naturally meek man intense wrath and a boundless desire of revenge. while he was in this state of uncontrollable excitement, a jew appeared and offered to procure for him all he wanted, if he would pledge his soul to satan. the unhappy man consented, and was at once led to the circus where he saw a great number of torch-bearers in white robes, the costume of servants of the church, and satan seated in the midst of the assembly. he obeyed the order to renounce christ and certified his apostacy in a written document. the next day already the bishop repented of his injustice and restored theophilus in his office, whereupon the jew pointed out to him how promptly his master had come to his assistance. still, repentance comes to theophilus also, and in a new revelation the virgin appears to the despairing man after incessant prayer of forty days and nights--a fit preparation for such a vision. she directs him to perform certain atoning ceremonies and promises him restoration to his christian privileges, which he finally obtains by finding the certificate of his apostasy lying on his breast, and then dies in a state of happy relief. after that similar cases of a league being made with satan occur quite frequently in the history of saints and eminent men, till the belief in its efficacy gradually died out and recent efforts like those recorded by goerres (iii. p. ) have proved utterly fruitless. among the magic phenomena connected with witchcraft, none is more curious than the so-called witches' sabbath, the formal meeting of all who are in league with satan, for the purpose of swearing allegiance to him, to enjoy unholy delights, and to introduce neophytes. that no such meeting ever really took place, need hardly be stated. the so-called sabbaths were somnambulistic visions, appearing to poor deluded creatures while in a state of trance, which they had produced by narcotic ointments, vile decoctions, or even mere mental effort. for the most skillful among the witches could cause themselves to fall into the witches' sleep, as they called this trance, whenever they chose; others had to submit to tedious and often abominable ceremonies. the knowledge of simples, which was then very general, was of great service to cunning impostors; thus it was well known that certain herbs, like aconite, produce in sleep the sensation of flying, and they were, of course, diligently employed. hyosciamus and taxus, hypericum and asafoetida were great favorites, and physicians made experiments with these salves to try their effect upon the system. laguna, for instance, physician to pope julius iii., once applied an ointment which he had obtained from a wizard, to a woman, who thereupon fell into a sleep of thirty-six hours' duration, and upon being aroused, bitterly complained of his cruelty in tearing her from the embraces of her husband. the marquis d'agent tells us in his _lettres juifs_ (i. l. ), that the celebrated gassendi discovered a drug which a shepherd used to take whenever he wished to go to a witches' assembly. he won the man's confidence, and, pretending to join him in his journey, persuaded him to swallow the medicine in his presence. after a few minutes, the shepherd began to stagger like an intoxicated person, and then fell into profound sleep, during which he talked wildly. when he roused himself again many hours afterwards, he congratulated the physician on the good reception he had met at satan's court, and recalled with delight the pleasant things they had jointly seen and enjoyed! the symptoms of the witches' sleep differ, however; while the latter is, in some cases, deep and unbroken, in other cases the sleepers become rigid and icy cold, or they are subject to violent spasms and utter unnatural sounds in abundance. the sleep differs, moreover, from that of possessed people in the consciousness of bodily pain which bewitched people retain, while the possessed become insensible. invariably the impression is produced that they meet kindred spirits at some great assembly, but the manner of reaching it differs greatly. some go on foot; but as abaris already rode on a spear given to him by apollo (iamblichus de vita, pyth. c. ), others ride on goats. in germany a broomstick, a club, or a distaff, became suitable vehicles, provided they had been properly anointed. in scotland and sweden the chimney is the favorite road, in other countries no such preference is shown over doors and windows. the expedition, however joyous it may be, is always very fatiguing, and when the revellers awake they feel like people who have been dissipated. the meetings differ in locality according to size: whole provinces assemble on high, isolated mountains, among which the brocken, in the hartz mountains, is by far the most renowned; smaller companies meet near gloomy churches or under dark trees with wide-spreading branches. in the north of europe the favorite resort is the blue mountain, popularly known as blokulla, in sweden, and as blakalla in norway, an isolated rock in the sea between smoland and oland, which seems to have had some association in the minds of the people with the ancient sea-goddess blakylle. in italy the witches loved to assemble under the famous walnut tree near benevent, which was already to the longobards an object of superstitious veneration, since here, in ancient times, the old divinities were worshipped, and afterwards the _strighe_ were fond of meeting. in france they had a favorite resort on the puy de dôme, near clermont, and in spain on the sands near seville, where the _hechizeras_ held their sabbaths. the hekla, of iceland, also passes with the scandinavians for a great meeting-place of witches, although, strangely enough, the inhabitants of the island have no such tradition. it is, however, clear that in all countries where witchcraft prospered, the favorite places of meeting were always the same as those to which, in ancient times, the heathens had made pilgrimages in large numbers, in order to perform their sacrifices, and to enjoy their merry-makings. in precisely the same manner the favorite seasons for these ghastly meetings correspond almost invariably with the times of high festivals held in heathen days, and hence, they were generally adopted by the early christians, with the feast and saints' days of christendom. thus the old germans observed, when they were still pagans, the first of may for two reasons: as a day of solemn judgment, and as a season for rejoicing, during which prince and peasant joined in celebrating the return of summer with merry songs and gay dances around the may-pole. the witches were nothing loth to adopt the day for their own festivities also, and added it to the holidays of st. john the baptist and st. bartholomew, on which, in like manner, anciently the holding of public courts had brought together large assemblies. the meetings, however, must always fall upon a thursday, from a determined, though yet unexplained association of witchcraft with the old german god of thunder, donar, who was worshipped on the blocksberg, and to whom a goat was sacrificed--whence also the peculiar fondness of witches for that animal. the hours of meeting are invariably from eleven o'clock at night to one or two in the morning. the assembly consists, according to circumstances, of a few hundred or of several thousands, but the female sex always largely prevails. for this fact the famous text-book of judges of witchcraft, the _malleus_, assigned not less than four weighty reasons. women, it said, are more apt to be addicted to the fearful crime than men because, in the first place, they are more credulous; secondly, in their natural weakness they are more susceptible; thirdly, they are more imprudent and rash, and hence always ready to consult the devil, and fourthly and mainly, _femina_ comes from _fe_, faith and _minus_, less, hence they have less faith! the guests appear generally in their natural form, but at times they are represented as assuming the shape of various animals; the devil's followers having a decided preference for goats and for monkeys, although the latter is a passion of more recent date. the crowd is naturally in a state of incessant flowing and ebbing; the constant coming and going, crowding and pressing admits of not a moment's quiet and even here it is proven that the wicked have neither rest nor peace. among this crowd flocks are seen, consisting of toads and watched over by boys and girls; in the centre sits satan on a stone, draped in weird majesty, with terrible but indistinct features, and uttering short commands with an appalling voice of unnatural and unheard of music. a queen in great splendor may sit by his side, promoted to the throne from a place among the guests. countless demons, attending to all kinds of extraordinary duties, surround their master; or, dash through the crowd scattering indecent words and gestures in all directions. english witches meet, also, innumerable kittens on the sabbath and show the scars of wounds inflicted by the malicious animals. every visitor must pay his homage to the lord of the feast, which is done in an unmentionable manner; and yet they receive nothing in return--according to their unanimous confessions--except unfulfilled promises and delusive presents. even the dishes on the table are but shams; there is neither salt nor bread to be found there. they are bound, besides, to pledge themselves to the performance of a certain number of wicked works, which are distributed over the week, so that the first days are devoted to ordinary sins and the last to crimes of special horror. music of surpassing weirdness is heard on all sides, and countless couples whirl about in restless, obscene dances; the couples joining back to back and trying in vain to see each other's faces. very often young children are brought up by their mothers to be presented to the master; when this is done, they are set to attend the flocks of toads till the ninth year, when they are called up by the queen to abjure their christian faith and are regularly enrolled among witches. the descriptions of minor details vary, of course according to the individual dispositions of the accused, whose confessions are invariably uniform as to the facts stated heretofore. the coarser minds naturally see nothing but the grossest indecency and the vilest indulgences, while to more refined minds the apparent occurrences appear in a light of greater delicacy; they hear sweet music and witness nothing but gentle affection and brotherly love. but in all cases these witches' sabbaths become a passion with the poor deluded creatures; they enjoy there a paradise of delight,--whether they really indulge in sensual pleasure or surrender mind and will so completely to the unhallowed power that they cease to wish for anything else, and are plunged in vague, unspeakable pleasure. and yet not even the simple satisfaction of good looks is granted them; witches are as ugly as angels are fair; they emit an evil odor and inspire others with unconquerable repugnance. how exclusively all these descriptions of witches' sabbaths have their origin in the imagination of the deluded women is seen from the fact that they vary consistently with the prevailing notions of those by whom they are entertained; with coarse peasants, the meetings are rude feasts full of obscene enjoyments; with noble knights, they become the rovings of the wild huntsman, or a hellish court under the guise of a venus' mountain; with ascetic monks and nuns, a subterranean convent filled with vile blasphemies of god and the saints. this only is common to all such visions, that they are always conceived in a spirit of bitter antagonism to the church: all the doctrines not only but also the ceremonies of the latter are here travestied. the sabbath has its masses, but the host is desecrated, its holy water obtained from the lord of the feast; its host and its candles are black, and the _ite missa est_ of the dismissing priest is changed into: "go to the devil!" here, also, confession is required; but, the penitent confesses having omitted to do evil and being guilty of occasional acts of mercy and goodness; the penalty imposed is to neglect one or the other of the twelve commandments. when witches were brought to trial, one of the first measures was to search for special marks which were believed to betray their true character. these were especially the so-called witches' moles, spots of the size of a pea, on which for some reason or other the nerves had lost their sensibility, and where, in consequence, no pain was felt. these were supposed to have been formed by being punctured, the evil one performing the operation with a pin of false gold, with his claws or his horns. other evidences were found in the peculiar coloring of the eyes, which was said to represent the feet of toads; in the absence of tears when the little gland had been injured, and, above all, in the specific lightness of the body. in order to ascertain the latter the accused were bound hand and foot crosswise, tied loosely to a rope, and then, three times, dropped into the water. if they remained floating their guilt was established; for either they had been endowed by their master with safety from drowning, or the water refused to receive them because they had abjured their baptism! it need not be added that the executioners soon found out ways to let their prisoners float or sink as they chose--for a consideration. witches' trials began in the earliest days of christianity, for the emperor valens ordered, as we learn from ammianus marcellinus, all the wizards and enchanters to be held to account who had endeavored by magic art to ascertain his successor. several thousands were accused of witchcraft, but the charge was then, as in almost every later age, in most cases nothing more than a pretext for proceedings against obnoxious persons. the next monster process, as it began to be called already in those early days, was the persecution of witches in france under the merovingians. the child of chilperic's wife had died suddenly and under suspicious circumstances, which led to the imprisonment of a prefect, mummolus, whom the queen had long pursued with her hatred. he was accused of having caused her son's death by his charms, and was subjected to fearful tortures in company with a number of old women. still, he confessed nothing but that the latter had furnished him with certain drugs and ointments which were to secure to him the favor of the king and the queen. a later trial of this kind, in which for a time calm reason made a firm stand against superstition, but finally succumbed ingloriously, is known as the _vaudoisie_, and took place in arras in . it was begun by a count d'estampes, but was mainly conducted by a bishop and some eminent divines of his acquaintance, whose inordinate zeal and merciless cruelty have secured to the proceedings a peculiarly painful memory in the annals of the church. a large number of perfectly innocent men and women were tortured and disgracefully executed, but fortunately the death of the main persecutor, dublois, made a sudden end to the existence of witchcraft in that province. one of the most remarkable trials of this kind was caused by a number of little children, and led to most bloody proceedings. it seems that in the year several boys and girls in the parish of mora, one of the most beautiful parts of the swedish province of dalarne, and famous through the memory of gustavus vasa and gustavus iii., were affected by a nervous fever which left them, after their partial recovery, in a state of extreme irritability and sensitiveness. they fell into fainting fits and had convulsions--symptoms which the simple but superstitious mountaineers gradually began to think inexplicable, and hence to ascribe to magic influences. the report spread that the poor children were bewitched, and soon all the usual details of satanic possession were current. the mountain called blakulla, in bad repute from of old, was pointed out as the meeting-place of the witches, where the annual sabbath was celebrated, and these children were devoted to satan. church and state combined to bring their great power to bear upon the poor little ones, an enormous number of women, mostly the mothers of the young people, were involved in the charges, and finally fifty-two of the latter with fifteen children were publicly executed as witches, while fifty of the younger were condemned to severe punishment! more than three hundred unfortunate children under fourteen had made detailed confessions of the witches' sabbath and the ceremonies attending their initiation into its mysteries. a similar fearful delusion took hold of german children in würtemberg, when towards the end of the seventeenth century a large number of little boys and girls, none of whom were older than ten years, began to state that they were every night fetched away and carried to the witches' sabbath. many were all the time fast asleep and could easily be roused, but a few among them fell regularly into a trance, during which their little bodies became cold and rigid. a commission of great judges and experienced divines was sent to the village to investigate the matter, and found at last that there was no imposture attempted, but that the poor children firmly believed what they stated. it became, however, evident that a few among them had listened to old women's tales about witches, with eager ears, and, with inflamed imaginations, retailed the account to others, till a deep and painful nervous excitement took hold of their minds and rapidly spread through the community. many of the children were, as was natural at their age, led by vanity to say that they also had been at the sabbath, while others were afraid to deny what was so positively stated by their companions. fortunately the commission consisted, for once, of sensible men who took the right view of the matter, ordered a good whipping here and there, and thus saved the land from the crime of another witches' trial. our own experiences in new england, at the time when sir william phipps was governor of the colonies, have been forcibly reported by the great cotton mather. nearly every community had its young men and women who were addicted to the practices of magic; they loved to perform enchantments, to consult sieves and turning keys, and thus were gradually led to attempt more serious and more dangerous practices. in salem, men and women of high standing and unimpeached integrity, even pious members of the church, were suddenly plagued and tortured by unknown agencies, and at last a little black and yellow demon appeared to them, accompanied by a number of companions with human faces. these apparitions presented to them a book which they were summoned to sign or at least to touch, and if they refused they were fearfully twisted and turned about, pricked with pins, burnt as if with hot irons, bound hand and foot with invisible fetters, and carried away to great distances. some were left unable to touch food or drink for many days; others, attempting to defend themselves against the demons, snatched a distaff or tore a piece of cloth from them, and immediately these proofs of the real existence of the evil spirits became visible to the eyes of the bystanders. the magic phenomena attending the disease were of the most extraordinary character. several men stated that they had received poison because they declined to worship satan, and immediately all the usual sequences of such treatment appeared, from simple vomiting to most fearful suffering, till counteracting remedies were employed and began to take effect. in other cases the sufferers complained of burning rags being stuffed into their mouths, and although nothing was seen, burnt places and blisters appeared, and the odor and smoke of smouldering rags began to fill the room. when they reported that they were branded with hot irons, the marks showed themselves, suppuration took place, and scars were formed which never again disappeared during life--and all these phenomena were watched by the eager eyes of hundreds. the authorities, of course, took hold of the matter, and many persons of both sexes and all ages were brought to trial. while they were tortured they continued to have visions of demoniac beings and possessed men and women; when they were standing, blindfolded, in court, felt the approach of those by whom they pretended to be bewitched and plagued, and urgently prayed to be delivered of their presence. finally many were executed, not a few undoubtedly against all justice, but the better sense of the authorities soon saw the futility, if not the wickedness of such proceedings, and an end was made promptly, witchcraft disappearing as soon as persecution relaxed and the sensation subsided. similar trials have nevertheless continued to be held in various parts of europe during the whole of the last century, and many innocent lives have been forfeited to this apparently ineradicable belief in witchcraft. even after torture was abandoned in compliance with the wiser views of our age, long imprisonment with its attending sufferings and great anxiety as to the issue, proved fully sufficient to extort voluntary confessions, which were, of course, of no value in themselves, but served the purpose of keeping alive the popular superstition. in a specially fearful trial of this kind took place in hungary, during which nearly all the disgraceful scenes of mediæval barbarity were reënacted, and which ended in a number of cruel executions. the last witches' trial in germany took place in , when the mother-superior of a convent near würzburg, in bavaria, known as emma renata, was condemned to be burnt, but by the leniency of the authorities, was allowed to die by decapitation. switzerland was the scene of the last of these trials ever held, for with this act of justice, as it was called by the good people of glarus, the persecution ended. even in england, however, the feeling itself seems to have lingered long after actual trials had ceased. thus it is well known that the terrible trial of witches held at marlboro, under queen elizabeth, led to the establishment of a so-called witches' sermon to be delivered annually at huntingdon, and this custom was faithfully observed down to the latter part of the eighteenth century. nearly about the same time--in --an earnest effort was made in scotland to kindle once more the fire of fierce persecution. in the month of february of that year, the associate presbytery, in a public document addressed to the presbytery of the seceded churches, required for certain purposes a solemn acknowledgment of former sins, and a vow to renounce them forever. among these sins that austere body enumerated the "_abolition_ of the death penalty for witchcraft," since the latter was forbidden in holy writ, and the leniency which had taken the place of the former severity in punishing this crime, had given an opening to satan to tempt and actually to seduce others by means of the same old accursed and dangerous snares.--(_edinb. rev._, jan. .) ii. black and white magic. "peace!--the charm's wound up." --macbeth. the most startling of all scenes described in holy writ--as far as they represent incidents in human life--is, no doubt, the mysterious interview between unfortunate king saul and the spirit of his former patron, the prophet samuel. the poor monarch, abandoned by his friends and forsaken by his own heart, turns in his utter wretchedness to those whom he had but shortly before "put out of the land," those godless people who "had familiar spirits and the wizards." hard pressed by the ancient enemy of his people, the philistine, and unable to obtain an answer from the great god of his fathers, he stoops to consult a witch, a woman. it seems that sedecla, the daughter of the decemdiabite--for so philo calls her according to des mousseaux--had escaped by her cunning from the fate of her weird sisters, and, having a familiar spirit, foretold the future to curious enquirers at her dwelling in endor. at first she is unwilling to incur the penalty threatened in the king's decree, but when the disguised monarch, with a voice of authority promises her impunity, she consents to "bring up samuel." as soon as the fearful phantom of the dread prophet appears, she becomes instinctively aware of the true character of her visitor, and, far more afraid of the power of the living than of the appearance of the departed, she cries out trembling: "why hast thou deceived me? thou art saul!" then follows the appalling scene in which samuel reproves the miserable, self-despairing king, and foretells his death and that of his sons. there can be no doubt that we have here before us an instance of genuine magic. the woman was evidently capable of casting herself into a state of ecstasy, in which she could at once look back into the past and forward into the future. thus she beholds the great prophet, not sent by god from on high, as the holy fathers generally taught, but according to the then prevailing belief, rising from sheol, the place of departed spirits, and then she utters, unconsciously, his own words. for it must not be overlooked that samuel makes no revelations, but only repeats his former warnings. saul learns absolutely nothing new from him; he only hears the same threatenings which the prophet had pronounced twice before, when the reckless king had dared to sacrifice unto god with his own hand (i. sam. xiii.), and when he had failed to smite the amalekite, as he was bidden. possessed, as it were, by the spirit of the living samuel, the woman speaks as he had spoken in his lifetime, and it is only when her state of exaltation renders her capable of looking into the future also, that she assumes the part of a prophetess herself, and foretells the approaching doom of her royal visitor. that the whole dread scene was fore-ordained and could take place only by the will of the almighty, alters nothing in the character of the woman with the familiar spirit. it is a clear case of necromancy, or conjuring up of the spirits of departed persons, such as has been practised among men from time immemorial. among the chosen people of god persons were found from the beginning of their history who had familiar spirits, and moses already fulminates his severest anathemas against these wizards (lev. xx. ). they appear under various aspects, as charmers, as consulters of familiar spirits, as wizards, or as necromancers (deut. xviii. ); they are charged with passing their children through the fire, with observing times (astrologers); with using enchantments; or they are said in a general way to "use witchcraft" (ii. chron. xxxiii. ). that other nations were not less familiar with the art of evoking spirits, we see, for instance, in the "odyssey," which mentions numerous cases of such intercourse with another world, and speaks of necromancers as forming a kind of close guild. in the "persius" of Æschylus the spirit of darius, father of xerxes, is called up and foretells all the misfortunes that are to befall poor queen atossa. the greatest among the stern romans could not entirely shake off the belief in such magic, in spite of the matter-of-fact tendencies of the roman mind, and the vast superiority of their intelligence. a cato and a sylla, a cæsar and a vespasian, all admitted, with clear unfailing perception, the small grains of truth that lay concealed among the mass of rubbish then called magic. even christian theology has never absolutely denied the existence of such extraordinary powers over the spirits of the departed, although it has consistently attributed them to diabolic influences. in this point lies the main difference between ancient and modern magic. for the oldest magi whom we know were the wise men of persia, called, from _mah_ (great), mugh, the great men of the land. they were the philosophers of their day, and, if we believe the impartial evidence of greek writers--not generally apt to overestimate the merits of other nations--they were possessed of vast and varied information. their aim was the loftiest ever conceived by human ambition; it was, in fact, nothing less than the erection of an intellectual tower of babel. they devoted the labors of a lifetime, and the full, well-trained vigor of their intelligence to the study of the forces of nature, and the true character of all created beings. among the latter they included disembodied spirits as well as those still bound up with bodies made of earth, considering with a wisdom and boldness of conception never yet surpassed, both classes as one and the same eternal creation. the knowledge thus acquired they were, moreover, not disposed merely to store away in their memory, or to record in unattractive manuscripts; they were men of the world as well as philosophers, and looked for practical results. here the pagan spirit shone forth unrestrained; the end and aim of all their restless labors was power. their ambition was to control, by the superior prestige of their knowledge, not only the mechanical forces of nature, but also the lesser capacities of other created beings, and finally fate itself! truly a lofty and noble aim if we view it, as in equity we are bound to do, from their stand-point, as men possessing, with all the wisdom of the earth, as yet not a particle of revealed religion. it was only at a much later period that a distinction was made between white magic and black magic. this arose from the error which gradually overspread the minds of men, that such extraordinary powers--based, originally, only upon extraordinary knowledge--were not naturally given to men; but, could only be obtained by the special favor of higher beings, with whom the owner must needs enter into a perilous league. if these were benevolent deities, the results obtained by their assistance were called white magic; if they were gods of ill-repute, they granted the power to perform feats of black magic, acts of wickedness, and crimes. christianity, though it abolished the gods of paganism, maintained, nevertheless, the belief in extraordinary powers accorded by supernatural beings, and the same distinction continued to be made. pious men and women performed miracles by the aid of angels and saints; wicked sinners did as much by an unholy league with the evil one. the egyptian charmer, of apulejus, who declared that no miracle was too difficult for his art, since he exercised the blind power of deities who were subject to his will, only expressed what the lazzarone of naples feels in our day, when he whips his saint with a bundle of reeds, in order to compel him to do his bidding. magicians did not change their doctrine; they hardly even modified their ceremonies; their allegiance only was transferred from jupiter to jehovah, even as the same column that once bore the great thunderer on olympus, is now crowned by a statue of peter boanerges. nor has the race of magicians ever entirely died out; we find enough notices in classic authors, whose evidence is unimpeachable, to know that the greeks were apt scholars of the ancient magi and transferred the knowledge they had thus obtained and long jealously guarded, to the priests of egypt, who in their turn became the masters of the two mightiest nations on earth. first moses sat at their feet till, at the age of forty, he "was learned in all the wisdom of the egyptians," and could successfully cope with their "magicians and sorcerers." then the land of the nile fell into the hands of the romans, and poverty and neglect drove the wise men of egypt to seek refuge in the capital of the world, where they either lived upon the minor arts and cunning tricks of their false fate, or, being converted to christianity, infected the pure faith with their ill-applied knowledge. certain portions of true magic survived through all persecutions and revolutions; some precious secrets were preserved by the philosophers of later ages and have--if we believe the statements made by trustworthy writers of every century--ever since continued in the possession of freemasons and rosicrucians; others became mixed up with vile superstitions and impious practices, and only exist now as the black art of so-called magicians and witches. wherever magic found a fertile soil among the people, it became a science, handed down from father to son, and such we find it still in the east indies and the orient generally; when it fell into the hands of skeptics, or weak, feeble-minded men, it degenerated with amazing speed into imposture and common jugglery. what is evident about magic is the well-established fact that its ceremonies, forms, and all other accessories are almost infinite in variety since they are merely accidental vehicles for the will of man, and real magicians know very well that the importance of such external aids is not only overrated but altogether fallacious. the sole purpose of the burning of perfumes, of imposing ceremonies and awe-inspiring procedures, is to aid in producing the two conditions which are indispensable for all magic phenomena: the magician must be excited till his condition is one resembling mental intoxication or becomes a genuine trance, and the passive subject must be made susceptible to the control of the superior mind. for it need not be added, that the latter will all the more readily be affected, the feebler his will and the more imperfect his mental vision may be by nature or may have been rendered by training and careful preparation. hence it is that the magic table of the dervish; the enchanted drum of the shaman; the medicine-bag of the indian are all used for precisely the same purpose as the ring of hecate; the divining rod and the magic wand of the enchanter. legend and amulet, mummy and wax-figure, herb and stone, drug and elixir, incense and ointment, are all but the means, which the strong will of the gifted master uses in order to influence and finally to control the weaker mind. thus powerful perfumes, narcotic odors, and anæsthetic salves are employed to produce enervation and often actual and complete loss of self-control; in other cases the neophyte has to turn round and round within the magic circle, from east to west, till he becomes giddy and utterly exhausted. it is very curious to observe how, as far as these preparations go, in the most distant countries and among the most different forms of society the same means are employed for the same purpose: the whirling dance of the fanatic dervish is perfectly analogous to the wild raving of our indian medicine-man, who ties himself with a rope to a post and then whirls around it in fierce fury. thus, also, the oldest magicians speak with profound reverence of the powers of a little herb, known to botanists as _hypericum perforatum l._, and behold! in the year a german author of eminence, justinus kerner, still taught seriously, that the leaves of that plant were the best means to banish evil spirits! mandrake and elder have held their own in the false faith of nations from the oldest times to our day, and even now germans as well as slaves love to plant the latter everywhere in their graveyards, as suggestive of the realm of spirits! white magic, though strictly forbidden by the church in all ages, seems nevertheless to have had irresistible attractions for wise and learned men of every country. this charm it owes to the many elements of truth which are mixed up with the final error; for it aims at a thorough understanding of the mysteries of nature--and so far its purpose is legitimate and very tempting to superior minds--but only in order to obtain by such knowledge a power which holy writ expressly denies to man. when it prescribes the study of nature as being the outer temple of god and represents all the parts of this vast edifice, from the central sun of the universe to the minutest living creation, as bound up by a common sympathy, no objection can be made to its doctrines, and even the greatest minds may fairly enroll themselves here as its pupils. but when it ascribes to this sympathy an active power and attributes to secret names of the deity, to certain natural products, or to mechanically regulated combinations of the stars, a peculiar and supernatural effect, it sinks into contemptible superstition. hence the constant aim of all white magic, the successful summoning of superior spirits for the purpose of learning from them what is purposely kept concealed from the mind of man, has never yet been reached. for it is sin, the same sin that craved to eat from the tree of knowledge. hence, also, no beneficial end has ever yet been obtained by the practices of magic, although wise and learned men of every age have spent their lives and risked the salvation of their souls in restless efforts to lift the veil of isis. black magic, the kishuph of the hebrews, avows openly its purpose of forming a league with evil spirits in order to attain selfish ends, which are invariably fatal to others. and yet it is exactly here that we meet with great numbers of well-authenticated cases of success, which preclude all doubt and force us to admit the occasional efficiency of such sinful alliances. the art flourishes naturally best among the lowest races of mankind, where gross ignorance is allied with blind faith, and the absence of inspiration leaves the mind in natural darkness. we cannot help being struck here also with the fact that the means employed for such purposes have been the same in almost all ages. readers of classic writers are familiar with the drum of cybele--the laplanders have from time immemorial had the same drum, on which heaven, hell, and earth are painted in bright colors, and reproduce in pictorial writing the letters of the modern spiritualist. a ring is placed upon the tightly stretched skin, which slight blows with a hammer cause to vibrate, and according to the apparently erratic motions of the ring over the varied figures of gods, men, and beasts, the future is revealed. the consulting savage lies on his knees, and as the pendulum between our fingers and the pencil of planchette in our hand write apparently at haphazard, but in reality under the pressure of our muscles acting through the unconscious influence of our will, so here also the beats of the hammer only seem to be fortuitous, but, in reality, are guided by the ecstatic owner. for already olaf magnus ("hist. goth." l. , ch. ) tells us that the incessant beating of the drum, and the wild, exulting singing of the magician for hours before the actual ceremony begins, cause him to fall into a state of exaltation, without which he would be unable to see the future. that the drum is a mere accident in the ceremony was strikingly proved by a laplander, who delivered up his instrument of witchcraft to the pious missionary (tornaeus) by whom he had been converted, and who soon came to complain that even without his drum he could not help seeing hidden things--an assertion which he proved by reciting to the amazed minister all the minute details of his recent journey. who can help, while reading of these savage magicians, recalling the familiar ring and drumstick in the left hand of the roman isis--statues with a drum above the head, or the rarely missing ring and hammer in the hands of the egyptian isis? it need hardly be added that the indians of our continent have practised the art with more or less success from the day of discovery to our own times. already wafer in his "descr. of the isthmus of darien" ( ) describes how indian sorcerers, after careful preparation, were able to inform him of a number of future events, every one of which came to pass in the succeeding days. the prince of neu-wied again met a famous medicine-man among the crea indians, whose prophecies were readily accepted by the whites even, and of whose power he witnessed unmistakable evidence. bonduel, a well-known and generally perfectly trustworthy writer, affirms, from personal knowledge, that among the menomonees the medicine-men not only practise magic, but are able to produce most astounding results. after beating their drum, bonduel used to hear a heavy fall and a faint, inarticulate voice, whereupon the tent of the charmer though fifteen feet high, rose in the air and inclined first on one and then on the other side. this was the time of the interview between the medicine-man and the evil spirit. small doll-like figures of men also were used, barely two inches long, and tied to medicine-bags. they served mainly to inflame women with loving ardor, and when efficient could drive the poor creatures to pursue their beloved for days and nights through the wild forests. other missionaries also affirm that these medicine-men must have been able to read the signs and perhaps to feel in advance the effects of the weather with amazing accuracy, since they frequently engaged to procure storms for special purposes, and never failed. it is interesting to notice that according to the unanimous testimony of all writers on indian affairs, these medicine-men almost invariably find a violent and wretched death. it is not without interest to recall that the prevailing forms of the magic of our day, as far as they consist of table-moving, spirit-rapping, and the like, have their origin among the natives of our continent. the earliest notice of these strange performances appeared in the great journal of augsburg, in germany (_allgemeine zeitung_), where andree mentioned their occurrence among western indians. sargent gave us next a more detailed description of the manner in which many a wigwam or log-cabin in iowa became the scene of startling revelations by means of a clumsy table which hopped merrily about, or a half-drunk, red-skinned medium, from whose lips fell uncouth words. (spicer, "lights and sounds," p. .) it was only in that the famous fox family brought these phenomena within the pale of civilization: having rented a house in hydeville, n. y., already ill-reputed on account of mysterious noises, they reduced these knockings to a kind of system, and, by means of an alphabet, obtained the important information that they were the work of a "spirit," and that his name was charles ray. margaret fox transplanted the rappings to rochester; catherine, only twelve years old, to auburn, and from these two central places the new magic spread rapidly throughout the union. opposition and persecutions served, as they are apt to do, only to increase the interest of the public. a mrs. norman culver proved, it is true, that rappings could easily be produced by certain muscular movements of the knee and the ankle, and a committee of investigation, of which fenimore cooper was a member, obtained ample evidence of such a method being used; but the faith of the believers was not shaken. the moving of tables, especially, furnished to their minds new evidence of the actual presence of spirits, and soon circles were established in nearly all the northern and western states, formed by persons of education without regard to confession, who called themselves spiritualists or spiritists, and their most favored associates media. a number of men, whose intelligence and candor were alike unimpeachable, became members of the new sect, among them a judge, a governor of a state, and a professor of chemistry. they organized societies and circles, they published journals and several works of interest and value, and produced results which more and more strengthened their convictions. the new art met, naturally, with much opposition, especially among the ministers and members of the different churches. some of the opponents laughed at the whole as a clever jugglery, which deserved its great success on account of the "smartness" of the performers; others denounced it as a heresy and a crime; the former, of course, saw in it nothing but the hand of man, while the latter admitted the agency of spirits, but of spirits from below and not from above. an amusing feature connected with public opinion on this subject was, that when trade was prosperous and money abundant, spiritualism also flourished and found numerous adherents, but when business was slow, or a crisis took place, all minds turned away from the favorite pastime, and instinctively joined once more with the pious believers in the denunciation of the new magic. thus a kind of antagonism has gradually arisen between orthodox christians and enthusiastic spiritualists; the controversy is carried on with great energy on both sides, and, alas! to the eye of the general observer, magic is gaining ground every day, at least its adherents increase steadily in numbers, and even in social weight. (tuttle, "arena of nature.") not long ago the national convention of spiritualists, at their great meeting at rochester, n.y. (august, ), laid down nineteen fundamental principles of their new creed; their doctrines are based upon the fact that we are constantly surrounded by an invisible host of spirits, who desire to help us in returning once more to the father of all things, the great spirit. modern magic met with the same opposition in europe. the french academy, claiming, as usually, to be supreme authority in all matters of science, declined, nevertheless, to decide the question. arago, who read the official report before the august body, closed with the words: "i do not believe a word of it!" but his colleagues remembered, perhaps, that their predecessors had once or twice before committed themselves grievously. had not the same academy pronounced against the use of quinine and vaccination, against lightning-rods and steam-engines? had not réaumur suppressed peyssonel's "essay on corals," because he thought it was madness to maintain their animal nature; had not his learned brethren decreed, in , that there were no meteors, although a short time later two thousand fell in one department alone; and had they not, more recently still, received the news of ether being useful as an anæsthetic with scorn and unanimous condemnation? perhaps they recalled dr. hare's assertion that our own society for the advancement of useful knowledge had, in , refused to hear a report on spiritualism, preferring to discuss the important question: "why do roosters always crow between midnight and one o'clock?" at all events they heard the report and remained silent. in the same manner alexander von humboldt refused to examine the question. this indifference did not, however, check the growth of spiritualism in france, but its followers divided into two parties: spiritualists, under rivail, who called himself allan cardec, and spiritists, under piérard. the former died in , after having seen his _livre des esprits_ reappear in fifteen editions; to seal his mission, he sent, immediately after his death, his spirit to inform his eager pupils, who crowded around the dead body of their leader, of his first impressions in the spirit world. if the style is the man (_le style c'est l'homme_), no one could doubt that it was his spirit who spoke. perhaps the most estimable high-priest of this branch of modern magic is a well known professor of geneva, roessinger, a physician of great renown and much beloved by all who know him. he is, however, a rock of offense to american spiritualists, because he has ever remained firmly attached to his religious faith, and admits no spiritual revelations as genuine which do not entirely harmonize with the doctrines of christ and the statements of the bible. unfortunately this leads him to believe that his favorite medium, a young lady enjoying the mystic name of libna, speaks under the direct inspiration of god himself! in england the new magic has not only numerous but also influential adherents, like lord lytton and the darwinian wallace; papers like the _star_ and journals like the _cornhill magazine_, support it with ability, and names like home in former years and newton in our day, who not only reveal secrets but actually heal the sick, have given a new prestige to the young science. the works of howitt and dr. ashburner, of mrs. morgan and mrs. crossland have treated the subject under various aspects, and in the year , crookes, a well-known chemist, investigated the phenomena of home's revelations by means of an apparatus specially devised for the purpose. the result was the conviction that if not spiritual, they were at least not produced by any power now known to science.--_quart. journ. of science_, july, . in germany the new magic has been far less popular than elsewhere, but, in return, it has been there most thoroughly investigated. men of great eminence in science and in philosophy have published extensive works on the subject, which are, however, more remarkable for zeal and industry than for acute judgment. gerster in regensburg claimed to have invented the psychography, but szapary in paris and cohnfeld in berlin discovered at the same time the curious instrument known to us as planchette. the most practical measure taken in germany for the purpose of ascertaining the truth was probably the formation of a society for spirit studies, which met for the first time in dresden in , and purposes to obtain an insight into those laws of nature which are reported to make it possible to hold direct and constant intercourse with the world of spirits. here, as in the whole tendency of this branch of magic, we see the workings not merely of idle curiosity but of that ardent longing after a knowledge of the future and a certainty of personal eternity, which dwells in the hearts of all men. the phenomena of modern magic were first imperfect rappings against the wall, the legs of a table or a chair, accompanied by the motion of tables; then followed spirit-writing by the aid of a psychograph or a simple pencil, and finally came direct "spirit-writings," drawings by the media, together with musical and poetical inspirations, the whole reaching a climax in spirit-photographs. the ringing of bells, the dancing of detached hands in the air, the raising up of the entire body of a man, and musical performances without human aid were only accomplished in a few cases by specially favored individuals. two facts alone are fully established in connection with all these phenomena: one, that some of the latter at least are not produced by the ordinary forces of nature; and the other, that the performers are generally, and the medium always, in a more or less complete state of trance. in this condition they forget themselves, give their mind up entirely into the hands of others--the media--and candidly believe they see and hear what they are told by the latter is taking place in their presence. hence also the well-established fact that the spirits have never yet revealed a single secret, nor ever made known to us anything really new. their style is invariably the same as that in which ecstatic and somnambulistic persons are apt to speak. a famous german spiritualist, hornung, whose faith was well known, once laid his hands upon his planchette together with his wife, and then asked if there really was a world of spirits? to the utter astonishment of all present, the psychograph replied no! and when questioned again and again, became troublesome. the fact was simply that the would-be magician's wife did not believe in spirits, and as hers was the stronger will, the answer came from her mind and not from her husband's. on the other hand, it cannot be denied that media--most frequently delicate women of high nervous sensibility, and almost always leading lives of constant and wearying excitement--become on such occasions wrought up to a degree which resembles somnambulism and may really enable them, occasionally, in a state of clairvoyance, to see what is hidden to others. it is they who are "vitalized," as they call it, and not the knocking table, or the writing planchette, and hence arises the necessity of a medium for all such communications. that there are no spirits at work in these phenomena requires hardly to be stated; even the most ardent and enthusiastic adherents of the new magic cannot deny, that no original revelation concerning the world of spirits has yet been made, but that all that is told is but an echo of the more or less familiar views of men. it is far more interesting to notice, with coleman, the electric and hygroscopic condition of the atmosphere, which has evidently much to do with such exhibitions. the visions of hands, arms, and heads, which move about in the air and may occasionally even be felt, are either mere hallucinations or real objective appearances, due to a peculiar condition of the air, and favorably interpreted by the predisposed mind. hence, also, our own continent is, for its superior dryness of atmosphere, much more favorable to the development of such phenomena than that of europe. spiritualists in the old as in the new world are hopeful that the new magic will produce a new universal religion, and a better social order. in this direction, however, no substantial success has yet been obtained. outsiders had expected that at least an intercourse with departed spirits might be secured, and thus the immortality of man might be practically demonstrated. but this also has not yet been done. what then can we learn from modern magic? only this: that there are evidently forces in nature with whose character and precise intent we are not yet acquainted, and which yet deserve to be studied and carefully analyzed. modern magic exhibits certain phenomena in man which are not subject to the known laws of nature, and thus proves that man possesses certain powers which he fails or does not know how to exert in ordinary life. where these powers appear in consequence of special preparation or an exceptional condition of mind, they are comparatively worthless, because they are in such cases merely the result of physical or mental disease, and we can hope to profit only by powers employed by sound men. but where these powers become manifest by spontaneous action, apparently as the result of special endowment, they deserve careful study, and all the respect due to a new and unknown branch of knowledge. nor must it be overlooked, that, although modern magic as a science is new, most of the phenomena upon which it is based, were well known to the oldest nations. the chinese, who seem to have possessed all the knowledge of mankind, ages before it could be useful to them, or to others, and to have lost it as soon as there was a call for it, had, centuries ago, not only moving tables, but even writing spirits. their modern planchette is a small board, which they let float upon the water, with the legs upward; they rest their hands upon the latter, and watch the gyrations it makes in the water. or they hold a small basket with a camel's-hair brush attached to one end suspended over a table upon which they have strewn a layer of flour; the brush begins to move through the flour and to draw characters in it, which they interpret according to their alphabet. the priests of buddha in mongolia, also, have long since employed moving tables, and for a good purpose, usually to detect thieves. the lama, who is appealed to for the purpose, sits down before a small four-legged table, upon which he rests his hands, whilst reading a book of devotion. after perhaps half an hour, he rises, and as he does so, holding his hand steadily upon the table, the table also rises and follows his hand, which he raises till hand and table are both level with his eyes. then the priest advances, the table precedes him, and soon begins to move at such a rate that it seems to fly through the air, and the lama can hardly follow. sometimes it falls down upon the very spot where the stolen goods are hidden; at other times it only indicates the direction in which they are to be sought for; and not unfrequently it refuses altogether to move, in which event the priest abandons the case as hopeless. (_nord. biene_, april , .) here also it is evident that the table is not the controlling agent, but the will of the lama, whom it obeys by one of those mysterious powers which we call magic. it is the same force which acts in the divining rod, the pendulum, and similar phenomena. the name of medium is an american invention, and is based upon the assumption that only a few favored persons are able to enter into direct communication with spirits, who may then convey the revelations they receive to others. they are generally children and young persons, but among grown men also certain constitutions seem to be better adapted to such purposes than others. in almost all cases it has been observed, that the electric condition of the medium is a feature of greatest importance; the more electricity he possesses, the better is he able to produce magic phenomena, and when his supply is exhausted by a long session, his power also ceases. hence, perhaps, the peculiar qualification of children; while, on the other hand, the fact that they not unfrequently are able to answer questions, in languages, of which they are ignorant, proves that they also do not themselves give the reply, but only receive it from the questioner, and state it as it exists in the mind of the latter. hence, also, the utter absurdity of so-called spirit paintings, and, still worse, of poetical effusions like mr. harris' "lyric of the golden age," in eleven thousand four hundred and thirty wretched verses. for what the "circle" does not know individually or collectively, the medium also is not able to produce. this truth is made still more evident by the latest phenomena developed in spiritualistic circles, the so-called trance speaking, which may be heard occasionally in new york circles, and which requires no interposition of a medium. for here, also, we are struck by the utter absence of usefulness in all these revelations; the inspired believers speak, they recite poetry, but it remains literally _vox et præterea nihil_, and we are forcibly reminded of the words of Æschylus, who already said in his "agamemnon" (v. ), "did ever seers afford delight? the long practised art of all the seers whom ever the gods inspired, revealed naught but horrors and a wretched fate." among the media of our day, home is naturally _facile princeps_. a scotchman by birth, he claims that his mother already possessed the gift of second sight, and that in their home near edinburgh similar endowments were frequent among their neighbors. at the age of three years he saw the death of a cousin, who lived in a distant town, and named the persons who were standing around her couch; he conversed constantly in his childish way with spirits and heard heavenly music; his cradle was rocked by invisible hands, and his toys came unaided into his hands. when ten years old he was taken to an aunt in america, in whose house he had no sooner been installed than chairs and tables, beds and utensils, began to move about in wild disorder, till the terrified lady sent the unlucky boy away. attending once an exhibition of table-moving he fell into fits and suddenly became cataleptic; during the paroxysm he heard a summoning, then the spirits announced the wrecking of two sailors, the table began to rock as in a storm, the whistling of the wind through the tackle, the creaking of the vessel, and the dull, heavy thud of the waves against her bows, all were distinctly heard, and finally the table was upset, while the spirits announced the name and the age of the perishing seamen. from that day home carefully cultivated his strange gifts, and developed what he considered a decided talent for reading the future. as a young man he returned to europe and soon became famous. florence was, for a time, the principal stage of his successes; here he not only summoned the spirits of the departed, but was raised by invisible powers from the ground and hovered for some time above the heads of his visitors. the superstitious italians finally became excited and threatened him with death, from which a count branichi saved him at great personal peril. in naples the spirits suddenly declared their intention to leave him on february , , and to remain absent for a whole year; they did so, and during the interval home enjoyed better health than ever in his life! in rome he became a catholic, and good pio nono himself offered him his crucifix to kiss, with the words: "that is the only true magic wand!"--unfortunately this was not home's view always; at least we find him in in the same city in conflict with the papal police, who ordered him to cease all intercourse "with higher as well as with lower spirits," and finally compelled him to leave the eternal city. he then claimed publicly, what, it must not be forgotten, he had consistently maintained from the beginning of his marvelous career, that he was the unwilling agent of higher powers, which affected him at irregular times, independent of his will, and often contrary to his dearest wishes. it must be added that he gave the strongest proof of his sincerity by never accepting from the public pecuniary compensation for the exhibition of peculiar powers. his exterior is winning; he is of medium height, light-haired and light-complexioned, of slender figure; simple and well-bred in his manners, and of irreproachable morale. the highest circles of society have always been open to him, and his marriage with a daughter of the russian general stroll has given him wealth and an agreeable position in the world. as the spirits had predicted, they returned on the th of february, , and announced themselves by repeated gentle knockings--in other words, home's former nervous disease returned, and with it his exceptionable powers. he was then in paris, and soon excited the attention of the fair but superstitious empress, whose favor he speedily obtained by a revelation concerning the "empereur de l'avenir," as the spirits had the gallantry to call her infant son. napoleon also began to take an interest in the clever, talented man, whose special gifts did not prevent him from being a pliant courtier and a cunning observer. he showed himself grateful for the kindness with which eugenie provided for his sister's education by exerting his powers to the utmost at the tuileries, and by revealing to the emperor the secrets he had skillfully elicited during his spiritual sessions, from statesmen and generals. at the house of prince murat he performed, perhaps, the most surprising feats he has ever accomplished: seated quietly in his arm-chair, he caused tables to whirl around, the clocks in two rooms to stand still or to go at will, all the bells in the house to ring together or separately, and handkerchiefs to escape irresistibly from the hands and the pockets of several persons, the emperor included. then the floor seemed to sink, all the doors of the house were slammed to and opened again, the gaslights became extinct, and when they as suddenly blazed up again, home had disappeared without saying good-bye. the guests left the house quietly and in a state of great and painful excitement. at another exhibition in prince napoleon's house, a renowned juggler was present by invitation to watch home, but he declared, soon, that there was no jugglery, such as he knew, in what he saw, and the meeting, during which the most startling phenomena were exhibited, ended by home's falling into a state of fearful catalepsy. perhaps nothing can speak more clearly of the deep interest felt in the modern magician by the highest in the land, than the fact that more than once private sessions were held at the tuileries, at which, besides himself, the emperor and the empress, only one person was allowed to be present, the duke of montebello. it is said, though not by home himself, that at one of these meetings the sad fate of the empire was clearly predicted, and even the time of the emperor's death ascertained. one achievement of modern magic in which home is unique, is the raising of his body into the air; no other person having as yet even attempted the same exploit. he is lifted up in a horizontal position, sometimes only to a short distance from the floor, but not unfrequently, also, nearly to the ceiling; on one occasion, in bordeaux, he remained thus suspended in the sight of several persons for five minutes. another speciality of his, is the lengthening of his body. according to a statement deserving full credit ("human nature," dec. ), he can, when in a state of trance, add four inches to his stature! finally, he has been repeatedly seen passing in the air out of one window of the room in which his visitors were assembled, and returning through another window, an exhibition which almost always ended in the complete exhaustion and apparent illness of the magician. home himself maintains that he performs no miracles, and is not able to cause the laws of nature to be suspended for a moment, but that he is gifted with an exceptional power to employ faculties which he possesses in common with all his brethren. in him they are active; in the vast majority of men they lie dormant, because man is no longer conscious of the full and absolute control over nature, with which he has been endowed by the creator. he adds that it is faith alone, without the aid of spirits, which enables him to cause mysterious lights to be seen, or heavy pieces of furniture to move about in the air, and to produce strange sounds and peculiar visions in the mind of his friends. on the other hand, when he is lifted up into the air, or enabled to read the future, and to reveal what absent persons are doing at the moment, he professes to act as a willingless instrument of spirits, having neither the power to provoke his ability to perform these feats, nor to lay it aside at will. occasionally he professes to be conscious of an electric current, which he is able to produce at certain times and in a certain state of mind; this emanation protects his body against influences fatal to others, and enables him, for instance, to hold live coals in his hand, and to thrust his whole head into the chimney fire. this "certain state of mind," as he calls it, is simply a state of trance. hence the extremely variable nature of his performances, and his great reluctance to appear as a magician at the request of others. nor is he himself always quite sure of his own condition; thus, in the winter of , when he wished to exhibit some of the simplest phenomena in the presence of a number of savants in st. petersburg, he failed so completely in every effort, that the committee reported him virtually, though not in terms, an impostor. the same happened to him at a first examination held by mr. crookes, a well-known professor of chemistry, in company with messrs. cox and huggins; they did not abandon their purpose, however, and at the next meeting, when certain antipathic spectators were no longer present, home displayed the most remarkable phenomena. the committee came to the conclusion that he was enabled to perform these feats by means of a new "psychic force," which it was all-important for men of science to investigate thoroughly. the number of men and women who possess similar endowments, though generally in an inferior degree only, is very great, especially in the united states. only one feature is common to them all--the state of trance in which they are enabled to produce such startling phenomena--in all other respects they differ widely, both as to the nature of their performances and as to their credibility. for, from the first appearance of media in spiritualistic circles, in fact, probably already in the exhibitions of the fox family, delusion and willful deception have been mixed up with actual magic. tables have been moved by clever legerdemain; spirit rappings have been produced by cunning efforts of muscles and sinews; ventriloquists have used their art to cause extraordinary noises in the air, and pepper's famous ghosts have shown the facility with which the eye may be deceived and the other senses be taken captive. the most successful deception was practised by the so-called davenport brothers, whose well-known exhibitions excited universal interest, as long as the impression lasted that they were the work of invisible spirits, while they became even more popular and attractive when their true nature had been discovered, on account of the exquisite skill with which these juggling tricks were performed. the masters of physical science have amply proved that table-moving is a simple mechanical art. faraday and babinet already called attention to the fact that the smallest muscles of the human body can produce great effects, when judiciously employed, and cited, among other instances, the so-called electric girl, exhibited in paris, who hurled a chair on which she had been sitting, by muscular power alone, to a great distance. the same feat, it is well-known, has been repeatedly accomplished by other persons also. like muscular efforts are made--no doubt often quite unconsciously--by persons whose will acts energetically, and when several men co-operate the force of vibrations produced in a kind of rhythmical tact, becomes truly astounding. we need only remember, that the rolling of a heavily laden cart in the streets may shake a vast, well-built edifice from roof to cellar, and that the regular tramp of a detachment of men has more than once caused suspension bridges, of great and well-tried strength, to break and to bury hundreds of men under their ruins. thus a few children and delicate women alone can, by an hour's steady work and undivided attention, move tables of such weight that a number of strong men can lift them only with difficulty. the only really new force which has ever appeared in this branch of modern magic is the od of baron reichenbach; its presence and efficacy cannot be denied, although the manner in which it operates is still a mystery. in the summer of the german baron found himself in a company of table-movers at the house of lord william cowper, the son-in-law of lord palmerston. to prove his faith he crept under the heavy dining-table, resting with his full weight on one of the three solid feet and grasping the other two firmly with his hands. the wood began to emit low, electric sounds, then came louder noises as when furniture cracks in extremely dry weather, and finally the table began to move. reichenbach did his best to prevent the movement, but the table rushed down the room, dragging the unlucky baron with it, to the intense amusement of all the persons present. the german savant maintains that this power, possessed only by the privileged few who are peculiarly sensitive, emanates from the tips of the fingers, becomes luminous in the dark, and acts like a lever upon all obstacles that come in its way. as the existence of od is established beyond all doubt, and its effects are admitted by all who have studied the subject, we are forced to look upon it as at least one of the mysterious elements of modern magic. the od is, as far as we know, a magnetic force; for as soon as certain persons are magnetized they become conscious of peculiar sensations, heat or cold, headache or other pains, and, if predisposed, of a startling increase of power in all their senses. they see lights of every kind, can distinguish even minute objects in a dark room, and behold beautiful white flames upon the poles of magnets. reichenbach obtained, as he believed, two remarkable results from these first phenomena. he concluded that polar lights, aurora boreales, etc., were identical with the magnetic light of the earth, and he discovered that sensitive, sickly persons, who were peculiarly susceptible to magnetic influences, ought to lie with the head to the north, and the feet to the south in order to obtain refreshing sleep. the next step was an effort to identify the od with animal magnetism; reichenbach found that cataleptic patients who perceived the presence of magnets with exquisite accuracy, and followed them like mesmerized persons, were affected alike by his own hands or those of other perfectly sound, but strongly magnetic men. he could attract such unfortunate persons by his outstretched fingers, and force them to follow him in a state of unconsciousness wherever he led them. according to his theory, the two sides of man are of opposite electric nature and a magnetic current passes continually from one side to the other; sensitive persons though blind-folded, know perfectly well on which side they approach others. gradually baron reichenbach extended the range of his experiments, employing for that purpose, besides his own daughter, especially a miss nowotny, a sad sufferer from cataleptic attacks. she was able to distinguish, by the sensations which were excited in her whole system, more than six hundred chemicals, and arranged them, under his guidance, according to their electro-chemical force. another sick woman, miss maiss, felt a cool wind whenever certain substances were brought near her, and by these and similar efforts in which the baron was aided by many friends, he ascertained the fact, that there is in nature a force which passes through all substances, the human body included, and is inherent in the whole material world. this force he calls the od. like electricity and magnetism, this od is a polar force, and here also opposite poles attract, like poles repel each other. the whole subject, although as yet only in its infancy, is well deserving of careful study and thorough investigation. the manifestations of so-called spirits have naturally excited much attention, and given rise to the bitterest attacks. in england, especially, the learned world is all on one side and the spiritualists all on the other; nor do they hesitate to say very bitter things of each other. the _saturday review_, more forcibly than courteously, speaks of american spiritualists thus: "if this is the spirit world, and if this is spiritual intelligence, and if all the spirits can do, is to whisk about in dark rooms, and pinch people's legs under the table, and play 'home, sweet home,' on the accordeon, and kiss folks in the dark, and paint baby pictures, and write such sentimental, namby-pamby as mr. coleman copies out from their dictation--it is much better to be a respectable pig and accept annihilation than to be cursed with such an immortality as this." to which the _spiritual magazine_ (jan., ), does not hesitate to reply. "we shall not eat breakfast bacon for some time, for fear of getting a slice of the editor of the _saturday review_, in his self-sought appropriate metempsychosis." it must be borne in mind, however, that spiritualists everywhere appeal to their own reason as the highest tribunal before which such questions can be decided, and to the laws of nature, because as they say, they are identical with the laws of practical reason. they believe, as a body, neither in angels nor in demons. their spirits are simply the purified souls of departed men. protestant theologians, who admit of no purgatory, see in these exhibitions nothing but the deeds of satan. catholic divines, on the other hand, and protestant mystics, who, like the german, schubert, believe that there exist what they curiously enough call a "more peaceful infernal spirit," ascribe them to the agency of evil spirits. in the great majority of cases, however, the spirits have clearly shown themselves nothing else but the product of the media. the latter, invariably either of diseased mind by nature or over-excited for the occasion, believe they see and hear manifestations in the outer world, which in reality exist only in their own consciousness. a catholic medium is thus visited by spirits from heaven and hell, while the protestant medium never meets souls from purgatory. nothing has ever been revealed concerning the future state of man, that was not already well known upon earth. most diverting are the jealousies of great spirits, of solomon and socrates, moses and plato--when the media happen to be jealous of each other! a somewhat satirical writer on the subject explains even the fact that spirits so often contradict each other and say vile things of sacred subjects, by the inner wickedness of the media, which comes to light on such occasions, while they carefully conceal it in ordinary life! if these spirits are really the creations of the inner magic life, of which we are just learning to know the first elementary signs, then the powers which are hidden within us may well terrify us as they appear in such exhibitions, while we will not be surprised at the manner in which many an ordinary mortal appears here as a poet or a prophet--if not as a wicked demon. nor must it be overlooked that our memory holds vast treasures of knowledge of which we are utterly unconscious until, under certain circumstances, one or the other fact suddenly reappears before our mind's eye. the very fact that we can, by a great effort and continued appeals to our memory, recall at last what was apparently utterly forgotten, proves the presence of such knowledge. a state of intense excitement, of fever or of trance, is peculiarly favorable to the recovery of such hidden treasures, and there can be no doubt that many a medium honestly believes to receive a new revelation, when only old, long forgotten facts return to his consciousness. generally however, we repeat, nothing is in the spirit that is not in the medium. the american spiritualist conjures up only his own countrymen, and occasionally some world-renowned heroes like napoleon or cæsar, shakespeare or schiller, while the cosmopolitan german receives visits from men of all countries. finally it must be borne in mind that, according to an old proverb, we are ever ready to believe what we wish to see or hear, and hence the amazing credulity of the majority of spiritualists. even skeptics are not free from the influence of this tendency. when dr. bell, the eminent physician of somerville, mass., investigated these phenomena of modern magic, many years ago, he promptly noticed that the spirits never gave information which was not already in the possession of one or the other person present. only in a few cases he acknowledged with his usual candor, and at once, at the meeting itself, that a true answer was returned. but when he examined, after his return home, these few exceptional revelations, he discovered that he had been mistaken, and that these answers had been after all as illusory as the others. there can be no doubt therefore, that modern magic, as far as it consists in table-moving and spirit-rapping, with their usual accompaniments, is neither the work of mechanical jugglery exclusively, nor, on the other hand, the result of revelations made by spirits. in the mass of accumulated evidence there remain however, after sifting it carefully, many facts which cannot be explained according to the ordinary course of nature. the power which produces these phenomena must be classified with other well-known powers given to man under exceptional circumstances, such as the safety of somnambulists in dangerous places; the cures performed by faith, and the strange exhibitions made by diseased persons, suffering of catalepsy and similar affections. if men, under the influence of mesmerism, in a state of ecstatic fervor, or under the pressure of strong and long-continued excitement, show powers which are not possessed by man naturally, then modern magic also may well be admitted as one of the means by which such extraordinary, and as yet unexplored forces are brought to light. all that can be reasonably asked of those who so peremptorily challenge our admiration, and demand our respect for the new science, is that it shall be proved to be useful to man, and this proof is, as yet, altogether wanting. in mexico the preparation for acts of magic seems to have been downright intoxication; at least we learn from acosta, in his _hist. nat. y moral de los indias_ (lv.), that the priests, before sacrificing, inhaled powerful perfumes, rubbed themselves with ointments made of venomous animals, tobacco and hempseed, and finally drank chica mixed with various drugs. thus they reached a state of exaltation in which they not only butchered numbers of human beings in cold blood, and lost all fear of wild beasts, but were also able to reveal what was happening at a great distance, or even future events. we find similar practices, also, nearer home. the indians of martha's vineyard had, before they were converted, their skillful magicians, who stood in league with evil spirits, and as pawaws discovered stolen things, injured men at a distance, and clearly foretold the coming of the whites. the pious brainert gives us full accounts of some of the converted delawares, who, after baptism, felt the evil spirit depart from them, and lost the power of magic. one, a great and wicked magician, deplored bitterly his former condition, when he was a slave of the evil one, and became, in the good missionary's words: "an humble, devout, hearty, and loving christian." it is more difficult to explain the magic of the so-called archbishop beissel, the head of the brotherhood at ephrata, in pennsylvania, who, according to contemporary authorities "oppressed by his magic the father and steward of the convent, eckerling, to such a degree, that he left his brethren and sought refuge in a hermit's hut in the forest!" the spirits of departed brethren and sisters returned to the refectory at this bishop's bidding; they partook of bread and meat, and even conversed with their successors. there can be no doubt that beissel, abundantly and exceptionally gifted, possessed the power to put his unhappy subordinates, already exhausted by asceticism of every kind, into a state of ecstasy, in which they sincerely believed they saw these spirits, and were subjected to magic influences. that such power has by no means entirely departed from our continent, may be seen in the atrocities perpetrated at the command of the negroes' obee, of which well-authenticated records abound in florida and louisiana, as well as in cuba. the indo-germanic race has known and practised black magic from time immemorial, and the vendidad already explains it as an act which ahriman, the evil spirit, brought forth when overshadowed by death. in egypt it flourished for ages, and has never become entirely extinct. jannes and jambres, who led the priests in their opposition to moses ( . tim. iii. ), have their successors in our day, and the very miracles performed by these ancient charmers have been witnessed again and again by modern travelers. holy writ abounds with instances of every kind of magic; it speaks of astrology, and prophesying from arrows, from the entrails of animals, and from dreams; but, strangely enough, the charming of serpents and the evil eye are not mentioned, if we except balaam. the kabbalah, on the contrary, speaks more than once of the evil eye (ain hara), and all the southern nations of europe, as well as the slavic races, fear its weird power. the eye is, however, by no means employed only to work evil; by the side of their _mal occhio_ the italians have another gift, called _attrativa_, which enables man, apparently by the force of his eye only, to draw to himself all whom he wishes to attract. the well-known saint filippo neri thus not only won all whom he wished to gain over, by looking at them, but even dogs left their beloved masters and followed him everywhere. cotton mather tells us in his "magnolia" that quakers frequently by the eye only--though often, also, by anointing or breathing upon them--compelled others to accompany them, to join their communion, and to be in all things obedient to their bidding. tom case, himself a quaker, certainly possessed the power of overwhelming those at whom he looked fixedly for a while, to such a degree that they fell down as if struck with epilepsy; once, at least, he turned even a mad bull, by the force of his eye, till it approached him humbly and licked his hand like a pet dog. even in our own age goethe has admitted the power of certain men to attract others by the strength of their will, and mentions an instance in which he himself, ardently wishing to see his beloved one, forced her unconsciously to come and meet him halfway. (eckermann, iii. .) it avails nothing to stigmatize a faith so deeply rooted and so universal as mere superstition. among the mass of errors which in the course of ages have accumulated around the creed, the little grain of truth, the indubitable power of man's mind to act through the eye, ought not to be overlooked. it is the same with the magic known as such to the two great nations of antiquity. if the greeks saw in plato the son of apollo, who came to his mother perictione in the shape of a serpent, and in alexander the great the son of jupiter ammon, they probably intended merely to pay the same compliment to their countrymen which modern nations convey by calling their rulers kings and kaisers "by the grace of god." but the consistency with which higher beings came to visit earth-born man in the shape of favored animals, is more than an accident. the sons of god came to see the daughters of men, though it is not said in what form they appeared, and the suggestion that they were the "giants upon the earth," mentioned in holy writ, is not supported; but exactly as the gods came from olympus in the shape of bulls and rams, so the evil spirits of the middle ages appeared in the shape of rams and cats. a curious instance of the mixture of truth and falsehood appears in this connection. it is well-known that the italians of the south look upon virgil as one of the greatest magicians that ever lived, and ascribe to his tomb even now supernatural power. the poet himself had, of course, nothing whatever to do with magic; but his reputation as a magician arose from the fact that, next to the bible, his verses became, at an early period, a favorite means of consulting the future. _sortes virgilianæ_, the lines which upon accidentally opening the volume first met the eye, were a leading feature of the art known as stichomania. the story of the greatest magician mentioned in the new testament has been thoroughly examined, and the main features, at least, are well established. simon magus was a magician in the sense in which the ancients used that term; but he possessed evidently, in addition, all the powers claimed by better spiritualists, like home in our day. a native of gitton, a small village of samaria, he had early manifested superior intellectual gifts, accompanied by an almost marvelous control over the minds of others. by the aid of the former he produced a lofty gnostic system, which crumbled, however, to pieces as soon as it came into contact with the inspired system of christianity. his influence over others led him, in the arrogance which is inherent to natural man, to consider himself as the great divine power, which appeared in different forms as father, son, and spirit. he professed to be able to make himself invisible and to pass, unimpeded, through solid substances--precisely as was done in later ages by saint dominic and other saints (goerres. mystic, ii. )--to bind and to loosen others as well as himself at will; to open prison doors and to cause trees to grow out of the bare ground. before utterly rejecting his pretensions as mere lies and tricks, we must bear in mind two facts: first, that modern jugglers in india perform these very tricks in a manner as yet unexplained, and secondly, that he, in all probability, possessed merely the power of exciting others to a high state of exaltation, in which they candidly believed they saw all these things. at all events, his magic deeds were identical with the miracles of later saints, and as these are enthroned in shrine and statue in rome, so the eternal city erected to simon magus, also, a statue, and proclaimed him a god in the days of claudius! another celebrated magician of the same race, was sedechias (goerres. mystic, iv. ii. ), who lived in the days of saint louis, and who, once, in order to convince the skeptics of his day of the real existence of spirits, such as the kabbalah admits, ordered them to appear in human form before the eyes of the monarch. instantly the whole plain around the king's tent was alive with a vast army; long rows of bright-colored tents dotted the lowlands, and on the slopes around were encamped countless troops; whilst mounted squadrons appeared in the air, performing marvelous evolutions. this was probably the first instance of those airy hosts, which have ever since been seen in various countries. the christian era gave to magic phenomena a new and specific character; what was a miracle in apostolic times remained in the eyes of the multitude a miracle to our day, when performed by saints of the church--it became a crime and an abomination when the authors were laymen, and yet both differed in no single feature. the most remarkable representative of this dual nature of supernatural performances is, no doubt, dr. faust, whom the great and pious melanchthon states to have well known as a native of the little village of knittlingen, near his own birth-place, and as a man of dissolute habits, whom the devil carried off in person. his motto, which has been discovered under a portrait of his (hauber's "bibl. mag."), was characteristic of his faith: _omne bonum et perfectum a deo, imperfectum a diabolo_. his vast learning, his great power over the elements, and the popular story of his pact with the evil one, made him a hero among the germans, of whose national tendencies he was then the typical representative. unfortunately, however, nearly every christian land has had its own faust; such was, for instance, in spain the famous dr. toralba, who lived in the sixteenth century, and by the aid of a servile demon read the future, healed the sick, traveled through the air, and even when he fell into the hands of the inquisition, obtained his release through the great admiral of castile. gilles de laval, who was publicly burnt in , and lady fowlis, of scotland, are parallel cases. one of the most absurd ceremonies belonging to black magic, was the well-known taigheirm, of the scotch highlands, a demoniac sacrifice evidently handed down from pagan times. the so-called magician procured a large number of black cats, and devoted them, with solemn incantations, and while burning offensive incense of various kinds, to the evil spirits. then the poor victims were spitted and slowly roasted over a fire of coals, one after the other, but so that not a second's pause occurred between the death of one and the sufferings of the next. this horridly absurd sacrifice had to be continued for three days and nights, during which the magician was not allowed to take any food or drink. the consequence was, that if he did not drop down exhausted and perish miserably, he became fearfully excited, and finally saw demons in the shape of black cats who granted him all he desired (horst. "deuteroscopia," ii. ). it need hardly be added that in the state of clairvoyance which he had reached, he only asked for what he well knew was going to happen, and that all the fearful visions of hellish spirits existed only in his overwrought imagination. but it will surprise many to learn that such "taigheirms" were held as late as the last century, and that a place is still shown on the island of mull, where allan maclean with his assistant, lachlain maclean, sacrificed black cats for four days and nights in succession. the elder of the two passed for a kind of high-priest and chief magician with the superstitious islanders; the other was a young unmarried man of fine appearance, and more than ordinary intelligence. both survived the fearful ceremony, but sank utterly exhausted to the ground, unable to obtain the revelation which they had expected; nevertheless they retained the gift of second sight for their lives. it must not be imagined, finally, that the summoning of spirits is a lost art; even in our day men are found who are willing to call the departed from their resting-place, and to exhibit them to the eyes of living men. the best explanation of this branch of magic was once given by a learned professor, whom the prince elector of brandenburg, frederick ii., sent for from halle, in order to learn from him how spirits could be summoned. the savant declared that nothing was easier, and supported his assertion by a number of actual performances. first the spectator was prepared by strong beverages, such as the egyptian sorcerers already used to employ on similar occasions, and by the burning of incense. soon he fell into a kind of half-sleep, in which he could still understand what was said, but no longer reflect upon the sense of the words; gradually his brain became so disturbed, and his imagination so highly excited, that he pictured to himself images corresponding to the words which he heard, and called them up before his mind's eye as realities. the magician, protected against the effects of the incense by a sponge filled with an alcoholic mixture, then began to converse with his visitor, and tried to learn from him all he could concerning the person the latter wished to see, his shape, his clothes, etc. finally the victim was conducted into a dark room, where he was suddenly asked by a stern, imperious voice: "do you not see that woman in white?" (or whatever the person might be,) and at once his over-excited imagination led him to think that he really beheld what he expected or wished to see. this was allowed to go on till he sank down exhausted, or actually fainted away. when he recovered his consciousness, he naturally recollected but imperfectly what he had seen while in a state of great excitement, and his memory, impaired by the intermediate utter exhaustion and fainting, failed to recall the small errors or minute inaccuracies of his vision. all that was left of the whole proceeding was a terrifying impression on his mind that he had really seen the spirits of departed friends. such skillful manoeuvres were more than once employed for sinister purposes. thus it is a well-known historical fact that the men who obtained control over king frederick william ii., after his ascension to the throne, and held it for a time by the visions which they showed him, employed means like these to summon the spirits he wished to see. the master in this branch of black magic was undoubtedly joseph balsamo, the count cagliostro of french history. he was neither a magician in the true sense of the word, nor even a religious enthusiast, but merely an accomplished juggler and swindler, who had acquired, by natural endowment, patient study, and consummate art, a great power over the minds of others. he played upon the imagination of men as upon a familiar instrument, and the greatest philosophers were as easily victimized by him as the most clear-sighted women, in spite of the natural instinct which generally protects the latter against such imposition. his secret--as far as the summoning of the spirits of the departed is concerned--has died with him, but that enlightened, conscientious men candidly believed they had been shown disembodied spirits, is too well established by memories of french and dutch writers to be doubted. in the meetings of his "lodges of egyptian freemasons" he, as grand cophtha, or those whom he had qualified by breathing upon them, employed a boy or a girl, frequently called up at haphazard from the street, but at other times carefully prepared for the purpose, to look into the hand or a basin of water. the poor child was, however, first made half-unconscious, being anointed with the "oil of wisdom," no doubt an intoxicating compound, and after numerous ceremonies, carried into a recess called the tabernacle, and ordered to look into the hand or a basin of water. after the assembly had prayed for some time, the "dove," as they called the child, was asked what he saw. ordinarily he beheld first an angel or a priest--probably the image of cagliostro himself in his sacerdotal robes--but frequently also monkeys, the offspring of a skeptical imagination. then followed more or less interesting revelations, some utterly absurd, others of real interest, and at times actual predictions of future events. cagliostro himself, during his last trial before the inquisition of rome, while readily confessing a large number of impostures, stoutly maintained the genuineness of these communications and insisted that they were the effects of a special power granted by god. his assertion has some value, as the shrewd man knew very well how much more he was likely to gain by a prompt avowal than by such a denial; his wife, also, although his accomplice in former years, and now by no means disposed to spare her quasi-husband, always stated that this was a true mystery which she had never been able to fathom. if we add to these considerations the fact that numerous masters of lodges, even in holland and england, obtained the same results, and that they cannot all have been impostors or deluded victims, there remains enough in these well-established phenomena to ascribe them to a mysterious, magic power. (_compendio della vita, etc. di g. balsamo_, roma, .) it is in fact quite evident that the unfortunate juggler possessed in a very rare degree a power akin to that practised by a mesmer, a home, and other men of that class, without having the sense to understand its true nature or the ambition to employ it for other than the lowest selfish purposes. trials of magicians, who have conjured up the dead and compelled them to reveal the future, are still taking place every now and then; in the year not less than four men, together with their associates, were accused of this crime in enlightened germany, and the proceedings in one case, which occurred in munich, created no small sensation. black magic, therefore, must also be looked upon as by no means a mere illusion, much less as the work of evil spirits. the results it obtains at times are the work of man himself, and exist only within his own conscience. but if man can produce such marvelous effects, which lie apparently beyond the range of the material world, how much more must the creator and preserver of all things be able to call forth events which transcend--to our mind--the limits of the tangible world. such occurrences, when they have a higher moral or religious purpose in view, we call miracles, and they remain incomprehensible for all whose knowledge is confined to the physical world. above the laws of nature there rules the divine will, which can do what nature cannot do, and which we can only begin to understand when we bear in mind the fact that by the side of the visible order of the world or above it, there exist spiritual laws as well as spiritual beings. in a miracle, powers are rendered active which ordinarily remain inactive, but which exist none the less permanently in the world. hence all great thinkers have readily admitted the existence of miracles: a locke and a leibnitz as well as, more recently, a stahl and a schopenhauer. locke, in his "discourse of miracles," goes so far as to call them the very credentials of a messenger sent from god, and asserts that moses and christ have alike authenticated the truth and the divine character of their revelations by miracles. even their possible continuance is believed in by those who hope that men will ever continue among us who "have tasted the good word of god and _the powers of the world to come_." (hebrews vi. .) iii. dreams. "to sleep--perchance to dream." --hamlet. of the two parts of our being, one, spiritual and heaven-born, is always active, the other, the bodily, earth-born part, requires frequent and regular rest in sleep. during this time of repose, however, the mind also ceases apparently its operations, merely, however, because it has no longer servants at its command, who are willing and able to give expression to its activity. when the senses are asleep the mind is deprived of the usual means of communication with the outer world; but this does not necessarily condemn it to inaction. on the contrary, it has often been maintained that the mind is most active and capable of the highest achievements when released from its usual bondage to the senses. already Æschylus in his "eumenides" says: the mind of sleepers acts more cunningly; the glare of day conceals the fate of men. it seems, however, as if the intermediate state between the full activity of wakeful life and the complete repose of the senses in sound sleep, is most favorable to the development of such magic phenomena as occur in dreams. the fact that the susceptibility of the mind is at that time peculiarly great is intimately connected with the statement recorded in holy writ, that god frequently revealed his will to men in dreams. if we admit the antiquity of the book of job, we see there the earliest known announcement of this connection. "in a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men, in slumberings upon the bed; then he openeth the ears of men and sealeth their instruction" (xxxiii. ). next we are told that "god came to abimelech in a dream by night" (gen. xx. ), and from that time we hear of similar revelations made by night in dreams throughout the whole history of the chosen people. frequently, however, the dreams are called visions. thus balaam prophesied: "he hath said, which heard the words of god and knew the knowledge of the most high, which saw the vision of the almighty, falling into a trance, but having his eyes open." daniel had his secret "revealed in a night vision," but such favor was denied to saul, for "the lord answered him not, neither by dream nor by urim, nor by prophets." to solomon, on the contrary, "the lord appeared in a dream by night" many times; joel was promised that "old men should dream dreams and young men shall see visions," a pledge quoted by st. peter as having been amply fulfilled in his day (acts ii. ). for dreams did not lose their importance at the coming of christ. to his reputed father "the angel of the lord appeared in a dream," bidding him to take mary to his wife; again he was warned in a dream "not to return to herod," and the lord spake "to paul in the night by a vision" more than once, as he was by a dream also sent to macedonia. what in these and similar cases is accepted as divine inspiration, is in secular history generally looked upon as mysterious, magic revelation; but the phenomena remain the same in all instances, and those appearing in dreams are identical with the symptoms exhibited in revelations occurring during the day, when the favored recipient is wide awake. clairvoyance by night differs in no way from clairvoyance during the day; a state of ecstasy, a trance, is necessary in either case. that prophetic dreams generally remain unknown--outside of holy writ--must be ascribed to the fact that they leave no recollection behind, unless they are continued into a state of half-sleep, from which a sudden awakening takes place; and soon then they are invariably clothed in some allegoric form, and become liable to be erroneously or, at least, imperfectly interpreted. thus dreams, like trances, often prefigure death under the form of a journey, and represent the dying man as an uprooted tree, a withered flower, or a drowning swimmer. the early christians, foreseeing martyrdom, very frequently received in dreams an intimation of their impending fate under such symbolic forms, and, what was quite peculiar to their visions was that they often extended to the pagan jailors and keepers, whose minds had been excited by witnessing the sufferings and the constancy of their victims, and who, in many cases, became, in consequence of these dreams, converts to the new faith. the facility, however, with which such symbols can be misunderstood, has been as fatal to dreams in the estimation of most men, as the inaccurate manner in which the real revelation is often presented to the still half-sleeping mind. hence the popular belief that dreams "go by contraries," as vulgar slang expresses it. this faith is based upon the well-established fact that a genuine dream, in the act of impressing itself upon memory, often suffers not only mutilation but actual reversion. thus rogers saw, in a dream, hikey, a small, weak man, murder a powerful giant, caulfield--in the actual encounter, which he had really foreseen, the latter killed his puny antagonist. it is, therefore, as dangerous to "believe in dreams," as to deny their value altogether and to ascribe all realizations of dreams, with, macnish, to mere accident. ("sleep," p. .) men of cool judgment and clear mind have at all times been found on the side of believers, and even our great franklin, with his eminently practical mind and well-known aversion to every kind of superstition, firmly trusted in views which he believed to have come to him in dreams. antiquity believed in dreams, not only as means by which the gods revealed their will, but as special favors accorded to fortunate men. thus we are told that once two men were traveling together from arcadia to megara; when they reached the city, one of the two remained at an inn, while the other went to stay with a a friend. both, wearied by the journey, retired to rest; but the traveler who was at a private house dreamt in the night that his friend urged him to come to his assistance, as the innkeeper was about to murder him. terrified by the vivid dream, he jumped up; but, upon reflection, he concluded that the whole was but an idle fancy, and lay down again. thereupon the dream was repeated; but this time his friend added, that it was too late to come to his aid now, as he had been murdered, and his body would in the morning be carried out of the city, concealed under a load of manure. this second dream made such an impression upon the arcadian that he went at an early hour to the city gate, and to his amazement soon saw a wagon loaded with manure approaching the place where he stood. he stopped the driver and asked him what he had hidden in his wagon? the man fled, trembling; the body of the murdered friend was found, and the treacherous innkeeper paid with his life for his crime. (cicero, _de divin._) one of the oldest of well-authenticated dreams in christian times, revealed to st. basil the death of julian the apostate. it seemed to him in his sleep that he saw the martyr mercurius receive from god the order to kill the tyrant, and after a short time return and say: "o lord, julian is killed as thou hast commanded!" the saint was so firmly convinced of having received a direct revelation from heaven, that he immediately made the news known to the people, and thus gained new honor when the official information at last arrived. (_vita s. basil._, etc., p. .) here, also, the deep-seated hatred of the christian priest against the emperor, who dared to renew the worship of the ancient gods of the pagans, no doubt suggested the vivid dream, while, on the other hand, the transmission of the actual revelation was so imperfect as to change the real occurrence--julian's death by a persian lance--according to the familiar way of thinking of st. basil, into his execution at divine command by a holy martyr. there is no lack of renowned men of all ages who have had their remarkable dreams, and who have, fortunately for future investigation, recorded them carefully. thus melanchthon tells us that he was at a convent with a certain dr. jonas, when letters reached him requesting him to convey to his friend the sad news of his daughter's sudden death. the great reformer was at a loss how to discharge the painful duty, and driven by an instinctive impulse, asked dr. jonas whether he had ever had any remarkable dreams. the latter replied that he had dreamt, during the preceding night, of his return home, and of the joyful welcome he had met from all his family, except his oldest daughter, who had not appeared. thereupon melanchthon told him that his dream had been true, and that he would never see his daughter again, as she had been summoned to her eternal home. petrarch had a dream which was evidently also the reflex of his thoughts in the day-time, but accompanied by a direct revelation. he had been, for some days, very anxious about the health of his patron, a colonna, who was bishop of lombez, and one night saw himself in a dream walking by his friend's side, but unable to keep pace with him; the bishop walked faster and faster, bidding him stay behind, and when the poet insisted upon following him, he suddenly assumed a death-like appearance, and said, "no, i will not have you go with me now!" during the same night in which petrarch had this dream in parma, the bishop died at his palace in lombez. the well-known thomas wotton, also, dreamt a short time before his death, while residing in kent, that he saw five persons commit a robbery at oxford. on the following day he added a postscript to a letter which he had written to his son henry, then a student at that university, in which he mentioned his dream, and asked if such a robbery had really taken place. the letter reached the young man on the morning after the crime had been committed, when town and university were alike in a state of intense excitement. he made the letter immediately known to the authorities, who found in the account of the dream so accurate a description of the robbers, that they were enabled at once to ascertain who were the guilty persons, and to have them arrested before they could escape. (beaumont, p. .) the great german poet gustav schwab received the first intimation of the french revolution in through a remarkable dream which his daughter had in the night preceding the th of february. she had been attacked by a malignant fever, and was very restless and nervously excited; during that night she saw, in her feverish dreams, the streets of paris filled with excited crowds, and was forced to witness the most fearful scenes. when her father came to her bedside next morning, she gave him a minute description of the building of barricades, the bloody encounters between the troops and the citizens, and of a number of sad tragedies which she had seen enacted in the narrow and dark streets of the great city. the father, though deeply impressed by the vivid character of the dream, ascribed it to a reminiscence of the scenes enacted during the revolution of , and dismissed the subject, although his child insisted upon the thoroughly modern character of the buildings, and the costumes and manners of all she had seen. great was, therefore, the amazement of the poet and of all who had heard of the dream, when, several days afterwards, the first news reached them of the expulsion of the orleans family, and much greater still when the papers brought, one by one, descriptions of the scenes which the feverish dream had enabled the girl to see in minute detail, and yet with unerring accuracy. it is true that the poet, in whose biography the dream with all the attending circumstances is mentioned at full length, had for years anticipated such a revolution, and often, with a poet's graphic power, conjured up the scenes that were likely to happen whenever the day of the tempest should arrive. thus his daughter's mind had, no doubt, long been filled with images of this kind, and was in a state peculiarly susceptible for impressions connected with the subject. there remains, however, the magic phenomenon that she saw, not a poet's fiction, but actual occurrences with all their details, and saw them in the very night during which they happened. in the papers of sir robert peel was found a note concerning his journey from antibes to nice, in . he was on board the steamer erculano, which, on the th of april, so violently collided with another steamer, the sicilia, that it sank immediately, and two-thirds of the passengers perished. among those who were rescued were the great english statesman and the maid of two ladies, the wife and the daughter of a counselor of a french court of justice at dijon. the young girl had had a presentiment of impending evil, but her wish to postpone the journey had been overruled. the father, also, though knowing nothing of the precise whereabouts of his beloved ones, had been much troubled in mind about their safety, and in the very night in which the accident happened, saw the whole occurrence in a harassing dream. he distinctly beheld the vessel disappear in the waves, and a number of victims, among whom were his wife and his child, struggling for life, till they finally perished. he awoke in a state of great anguish, summoned his servants to keep him company, and told them what he had dreamt. a few hours later the telegraph informed him of the accident, and of his own grievous affliction. (_journ. de l'âme_, févr. , p. .) while in these dreams events were made known which happened at the same time, in other dreams the future itself is revealed. cicero, in his work on divination (i. , and ii. ), and valerius maximus have preserved a number of such dream-visions, which were famous already in the days of antiquity; a dream concerning the tyrant dionysius was especially well known. it seems that a woman, called himera, found herself in a dream among the gods on olympus, and there saw chained to the throne of jupiter a large man with red hair and spotted countenance. when she asked the divine messenger who had carried her to those regions, who that man was, he told her it was the scourge of italy and sicily, a man who, when unchained, would destroy many cities. she related her dream on the following morning to her friends, but found no explanation, till several years afterwards, when dionysius ascended the throne. she happened to be in the crowd which had assembled to witness the triumph of the new monarch, and when she saw the tyrant, she uttered a loud cry, for she had recognized in him the man in chains under jupiter's throne. the cry attracted attention; she was brought before dionysius, forced to relate her dream, and sent to be executed. equally well known was the remarkable dream which socrates had a short time before his death. his sentence had already been passed, but the day for its execution was not yet made known, when crito, one of his friends, came to him and informed him that it would probably be ordered for the next morning. the great philosopher replied with his usual calmness: "if such is the will of the gods, be it so; but i do not think it will be to-morrow. i had, just before you entered, a sweet dream. a woman of transcending beauty, and dressed in a long white robe, appeared to me, called me by name, and said, 'in three days you will return to your beloved phthia' (socrates' native place)." he did not die till the third day. alexander the great came more than once, during his remarkable career, in peculiar contact with prophetic dreams. he was thus informed of the coming of cassander long before he ever saw him, and even of the influence which the still unknown friend would have on his fate. when the latter at last appeared at court, alexander looked at him long and anxiously, and recognized in him the man he had so often seen in his dreams. it so happened, however, that before his suspicions assumed a positive form, a greek distich was mentioned to him, written to prove the utter worthlessness of all dreams, and the effect of these lines, combined with the discovery that cassander was the son of his beloved antipater, induced him to lay aside all apprehensions. nevertheless, his friend subsequently poisoned him in cold blood. not less famous was the dream which warned caius gracchus of his own sad fate. he saw in his sleep the shadow of his brother tiberius, and heard him announce in a clear voice, that caius also would share his tragic end, and be murdered like himself in the capitol. the great roman frequently related this dream, and the historian coelius records that he heard it repeated during gracchus' life-time. it is well known that the latter afterwards became a tribune, and was killed while he held that office, in the same manner as his brother. cicero also had his warning dream. he was escaping from his enemies, who had driven him out of rome, and seeking safety in his antium villa. here he dreamt, one night, that, as he was wandering through a waste, deserted country, the consul marius met him, accompanied by the usual retinue, and adorned with all the insignia of his rank, and asked him why he was so melancholy, and why he had fled from rome. when he had answered the question, marius took him by his right hand, and summoning his chief officer to his side, ordered him to carry the great orator to the temple of jupiter, built by marius himself, while he assured cicero he would there meet with new hopes. it was afterwards ascertained that at the very hour of the dream, the senate had been discussing in the temple of jupiter the speedy return of cicero. it would have been well for the great cæsar, also, if he had deigned to listen to the warning voice of dreams, for in the night before his murder, his wife, calphurnia, saw him, in a dream, fall wounded and copiously bleeding into her arms, and there end his life. she told him of her dream, and on her knees besought him not to go out on that day; but cæsar, fearing he might be suspected of giving undue weight to a woman's dreams, made light of her fears, went to the senate, and met his tragic fate. among later romans the emperor theodosius was most strikingly favored by dreams, if we may rely upon the statement of ammianus marcellinus (i. ). two courtiers, anxious to ascertain who should succeed the emperor valens on the throne, employed a kind of magic instrument, resembling the modern psychograph, and succeeded in deciphering the letters theod. their discovery became known to the jealous emperor, who ordered not only theodorus, his second secretary of state, to be executed, but with him a large number of eminent personages whose names began with the ominous five letters. for some unknown reasons, theodosius, then in spain, escaped his suspicions, and yet it was he, who, when valens fell in the war against the goths, was summoned home by the next emperor, gratianus, to save the empire and assume the supreme command of the army. when the successful general returned to byzantium to make his report to the emperor, he had himself a dream in which he saw the great patriarch of antioch, meletius, invest him with the purple, and place the imperial crown upon his head. gratianus, struck by the brilliancy of the victory obtained at the moment of supreme danger, made theodosius emperor of the east, and returned to rome. during the following year ( ) a great council was held in constantinople, and here, amid a crowd of assembled dignitaries of the church, theodosius instantly recognized the bishop of antioch, whom he had never seen except in his dream. it is not generally known that the prediction of future greatness which shakespeare causes the three witches to convey to macbeth, rests on an historic basis. the announcement came to him, however, probably not at an actual meeting, but by means of a prophetic dream, which presented to the ambitious chieftain the appearance of an encounter with unearthly agents. this presumption is strengthened by the first notice of the mysterious event, which occurs, it is believed, in "wyntownis cronykil," where macbeth is reported to have had a vivid dream of three weird women, who foretold him his fate. boethius derived his information from this source, and for unknown reasons added not only banquo as a witness of the scene, but described it, also, first of all chroniclers, as an actual meeting in a forest. the report that the discovery of the famous venus of milo was due to a dream, is not improbable, but is as yet without sufficient authentication. the french consul, brest, who was a resident of milo, dreamed, it is stated, two nights in succession, that he had caused diggings to be made at a certain place in the island and that his efforts had been rewarded by the discovery of a beautiful statue. he paid no attention to the dream; but it was repeated a third time, and now so distinctly that he not only saw clearly all the surroundings, but, also, the traces of a recent fire on the spot that had been pointed out to him before. when he went on the following day to the place, he instantly recognized the traces of fire, began his researches, and discovered not only the venus, now the glory of the louvre, but, also, several other most valuable statues. the well-known dream concerning major andré is open to the same objections, although it is quoted in good faith by mrs. crowe (i., p. ). we are told that the rev. mr. cunningham, the poet, saw in a dream a man who was captured by armed soldiers and hanged on a tree. to his utter consternation, he recognized on the following day, in major andré, who was then for the first time presented to him, the person he had seen in his dream. the latter was then just on the point of embarking for america, where he met with his sad fate. a large number of dreams which are looked upon as prophetic, are nothing more than the result of impressions made on the mind during sleep by some bodily sensation. a swelling or an inflammation, for instance, is frequently announced beforehand by pain in the affected part of the body; the mind receives through the nerves an impression of this pain and clothes it, during sleep and in a dream, into some familiar garb, the biting of a serpent, the sting of an insect, or, even, the stab of a dagger. an occasional coincidence serves to lend prestige to such simple and perfectly natural dreams. thus stilling ("jenseits," p. ) records the well-known story of a young man in padua, who dreamed one night that he was bitten by one of the marble lions which stand before the church of st. justina. passing by the place, on the following day, with some companions, he recalled the dream, and putting his hand into the mouth of one of the lions, he said, defiantly: "look at the fierce lion that bit me last night." but at the same moment he uttered a piercing cry and drew back his hand in great terror: a scorpion, hid in the lion's mouth, had stung him, and the poor youth died of the venom. the german poet conrad gessner dreamed, in a similar manner, that a snake bit him in his left breast; the matter was completely forgotten, when five days later a slight rising appeared on the spot, which speedily developed itself into a fatal ulcer, and caused his death in a short time. far more interesting, and occasionally productive of good results, are dreams which might be called retrospective, inasmuch as they reveal events of the past, which stand in some connection with present or impending necessities. many of these, no doubt, arise simply from the recovery of forgotten facts in our memory; others, however, cannot be thus explained. justinus tells us of dido's dream, in which she saw her departed husband, sichæus, who pointed out to her his concealed treasures and advised her to seek safety in flight. st. augustine also has an account of a father who after death appeared to his son and showed him a receipted account, the loss of which had caused his heir much anxiety. (_de cura pro mortuis_, ch. xi.) after dante's death the thirteenth canto of his paradise could nowhere be found, and the apparent loss filled all italy with grief and sorrow. his son, pietro alighieri, however, saw a long time afterwards, in a dream, his father, who came to his bedside and told him that the missing papers were concealed under a certain plank near the window at which he had been in the habit of writing. it was only when all other researches had proved vain, that, attention was paid to the dream; but when the plank was examined the canto was found in the precise place which the dream had indicated. a similar dream of quite recent occurrence was accidentally more thoroughly authenticated than is generally the case with such events. the beautiful wife of baron alphonse de rothschild of paris had lost a valuable ring while hunting in the woods near her castle of ferrières. it so happened that early associations made the jewel specially dear to her, and she felt the loss grievously; a reward of fifteen hundred francs was, therefore, offered at once for its recovery. the night after the hunt, the daughter of one of the keepers saw in a dream an unknown man of imposing appearance, who told her to go at daybreak to a certain crossroad in the forest, where she would find the ring at the foot of a beech-tree, close to the highway. she awakes, dresses herself at once, and goes to the place of which she has dreamed; after half an hour's walk she reaches the crossroads and almost at the same moment sees something glittering and shining like a firefly, picks it up, and behold! it is the ring. the girl had not even seen the hunt, nor did she know anything of the loss of the jewel; the whole occurrence, and the place where it was lost, all were pointed out to her in her dream. (_le monde illustré_, dec. , ). it has already been mentioned that the question has often been mooted whether the mind was really quite at rest during sleep, or still operative in dreams. some authors deny its activity altogether; others admit a partial activity. the philosopher kant went so far as to maintain that perceptions had during sleep were clearer and fuller than those of the day, because of the perfect rest of the other senses. recollection, alone, he added, was missing, because the mind acted in sleep without the coöperation of the body. there are, however, certain facts which seem to prove that the mind does, at least, not altogether cease its activity while the body is asleep. how else could we explain the power many persons undoubtedly possess to awake at a fixed hour, and the success with which, more than once, great mental efforts have been made during profound sleep? of the latter, tartini's famous sonata is a striking instance. he had endeavored in vain to finish this great work; inspiration would not come, and he had abandoned the task in despair. during the night he had a dream in which he once more tried his best, but in vain; at the moment of despair, however, the devil appeared to him and promised to finish the work in return for his soul. the composer, nothing loath, surrenders his soul and hears his magnificent work gloriously completed on the violin. he wakes up in perfect delight, goes to his desk, and at once writes down his "devil's sonata." even children are known occasionally to be able to give intelligent answers while fast asleep; the questions, however, must be in accordance with the current of their thoughts, otherwise they are apt to be aroused. a case is quoted by reil of two soldiers who used, at times, to keep up an uninterrupted conversation during a whole night, while they were to all appearances fast asleep. a lady, also, was unable to refuse answers to questions put to her at night, and had at last to lock herself in carefully whenever she went to sleep. hence it is that some of the most profound thinkers who have discussed the subject of dreams, like descartes and leibnitz, jouffroy and dugald stewart, richard and carus, with a number of others, assert the uninterrupted wakefulness of the mind. some authors believe that the spiritual part of man needs no sleep, but delights in the comfort of feeling that the body is in perfect repose, and of forgetting, by these means, for a time the troubles of daily life, and the responsibilities of our earthly existence. they base this view upon the fact, that, as far as we can judge, the mind is, during sleep, independent of the body and the outer world. thinking is quite possible during sleep without dreaming, and certain bodily sensations, even, are correctly perceived, as when we turn over in our sleep, because lying on one side produces pain or uneasiness. we not only talk while we are asleep, but laugh or weep, sigh or groan. a slight noise, a whispered word, affect the course of our thoughts, and produce new images in our dreams, as certain affections and even the pressure upon certain organs are sure to produce invariably the same dreams. space and time disappear, however, and naturally, because we can measure them only by the aid of our senses, and these are, for the time, inactive. hence dugald stewart ascribes the manner in which a moment's dream often comprises a year, or a whole lifetime, to the fact that, when we are asleep, the images created by our imagination appear to be realities, while those which we form when we are awake are known to us to be mere fictions, and hence not subject to the laws of time. it will not surprise us, therefore, to find that this activity of the mind, deprived of the usual means of making itself known to others by gesture, sound, or action, seeks frequently a symbolical utterance, and this is the grain of truth here also hid under the vast amount of rubbish, known as the interpretation of dreams. troubles and difficulties may thus appear as storms; sorrow and grief as tears; troubled waters may represent pain, and smooth ice impending danger; a dry river-bed an approaching famine, and pretty flowers great joy to come, provided, always, we are disposed to admit a higher class of prophetic dreams. such a view is supported by high authority, for since the days of aristotle, great writers, divines as well as philosophers, have endeavored to classify dreams according to their nature and importance. the great reformer, melanchthon, in his work on the soul, divided them into common dreams, void of importance; prophetic dreams, arising from the individual gifts of the sleeper; divine dreams, inspired by god either directly or through the agency of angels, and finally, demoniac dreams, such as the witches' sabbath. one great difficulty attending all such classification arises, however, from the well-known fact, already alluded to, that external sensations are by far the most frequent causes of dreams. even these have been systematically arranged by some writers, most successfully, perhaps, in the work of maine de biran, but he overlooks again the numerous cases in which external noises and similar accidents produce a whole train of thoughts. thus pope dreamed of a spaniard who impudently entered his library, ransacked the books on the shelves, and turned a deaf ear to all his remonstrances. the impression was so forcible that he questioned all his servants, and investigated the matter thoroughly, till he was finally forced to acknowledge that the whole transaction was a dream caused by the fall of a book in his library, which he heard in his sleep. a still more remarkable case occurred once in a hotel in dantzic, where not one person only, but all the guests, without exception, dreamed of the sudden arrival of a number of travelers, who disturbed the whole house, and took possession of their rooms with unusual clatter and noise. not one had arrived, but during the night a violent storm had arisen, causing doors to slam and window-shutters to flap against the house, noises which had aroused in more than fifty people precisely the same impressions. iv. visions. concipiendis visionibus quas phantasias vocant. --quintilian. visions, that is, the perception of apparently tangible objects in the outer world, which only exist in our imagination, have been known from time immemorial among all nations on earth. they are, in themselves, perfectly natural, and can frequently be traced back without difficulty to bodily affections or a disordered state of the mind, so that many eminent physicians dispose of them curtly as mere incidental symptoms of congestion or neuralgia. they may present real men and things, known beforehand, and now reproduced in such a manner as to appear objectively; or they may be ideal forms, the product of the moment, and incompatible with the laws of actual life. persons who have visions and know nothing of their true nature, are apt to become intensely excited, as if they had been transferred into another world. the images they behold seem to them of supernatural origin, and may inspire them with lofty thoughts and noble impulses, but only too frequently they disturb their peace of mind and lead them to crime or despair. when visions extend to other senses besides sight, and the peculiar state of mind by which they are caused affects different parts of the body at once, they are called hallucinations; most frequent among insane people, of whom, according to esquirol, eighty in a hundred are thus affected, they are generally quite insignificant; while visions through the eye, are often accompanied by very remarkable magic phenomena. thus the visions which great men like cromwell and descartes, byron or goethe, record of their own experience, were evidently signs of the great energy of their mental life, while in others they are as clearly symptoms of disease. ascribed by the ancients to divine influence, christianity has invariably denounced them--when not indubitably inspired by god, as in the case of the martyr stephen and the apostle st. john--as works of the devil. at all times they have been communicated to others, either by contagion or, in rare cases, by the imposition of hands, as they have been artificially produced. thus extreme bodily fatigue and utter prostration after long illness are apt to cause hallucinations. albert smith, for instance, while ascending mont blanc, and feeling utterly exhausted, saw all his surroundings clearly with his eyes, and yet, at the same time, beheld marvelous things with the so-called inner sense. a swiss who, in , during a severe cold, crossed from wallis to kandersteg by the famous gemmi pass, eight thousand feet high, saw on his way a number of men shoveling the snow from his path, fellow-travelers climbing up on all sides, and rolling masses of snow which changed into dogs; he heard the blows of axes and the laughing and singing of distant shepherds, while his road was utterly deserted, and not a human soul within many miles. his hands and feet were found frozen when he arrived at last at his quarters for the night, and ten days later he died from the effects of his exposure. during the retreat of the french from russia the poor sufferers, frozen and famished, were continually tormented by similar hallucinations, which increased their sufferings at times to such a degree as to lead them to commit suicide. another frequent cause of visions is long-continued fasting combined with more or less ascetic devotion. this is said to explain why the prophets of the old testament were so vigorously forbidden to indulge in wine or rich fare. thus aaron was told: "do not drink wine nor strong drink, thou nor thy sons with thee, when ye go into the tabernacle" (levit. x. ); moses remained forty days, and "neither did eat bread nor drink wine," when he was on mount sinai (deuter. ix. ); the nazarites were ordered not to "drink any liquor of grapes, nor to eat moist grapes or dried," and even to abstain from vinegar (numbers vi. ), and daniel and his companions had nothing but "pulse to eat and water to drink" (dan. i. ), in order to prepare them for receiving "wisdom and knowledge and the understanding of dreams and visions." narcotics also, and, in our day, most of the anæsthetics can produce visions and hallucinations, but the result is in all such cases much less interesting than when they are produced spontaneously. tobacco and opium, betel, hasheesh, and coca are the principal means employed; but siberia has besides its narcotic mushrooms, polynesia its ava, new granada and the himalaya the thorn-apple, florida its emetic apalachine, and the northern regions of america and europe have their ledum. the most effective among these narcotics seems to be the indian hemp, since the visions it produces surpass even the marvelous effects of opium, as has been recently again most graphically described by bayard taylor. laughing-gas, also, has frequently similar effects, and affords, besides, the precious privilege of freedom from the painful, often excruciating consequences of other narcotics. when perfumes are employed for the express purpose of producing visions, it is difficult to ascertain how much is due to their influence, and how much to the over-excited mind of the seer. benvenuto cellini describes--though probably not in the most trustworthy manner--the amazing effect produced upon himself and a boy by his side, by the perfumes which a priest burnt in the coliseum. the whole vast building seemed to him filled with demons, and the boy saw thousands of threatening men, four huge giants, and fire bursting out in countless places. the great artist was told, at the same time, that a great danger was threatening him, and that he would surely lose his beloved angelica within the month; both events occurred as predicted, and thus proved that in this case at least magic phenomena had accompanied the visions. (_goethe, b. cellini_, l. iv. ch. .) among other external causes which are apt to produce visions, must be mentioned violent motions, especially when they are revolving, as is the case with the shamans of the laplanders and the dancing dervishes of the east; self-inflicted wounds, such as the priests of baal caused in order to excite their power of divination, and long-continued imprisonment, as illustrated in the well-known cases of benvenuto cellini and silvio pellico. the latter was constantly tormented by sighs or suppressed laughter which he heard in his dungeon; then by invisible hands pulling at his dress, knocking down his books or trying to put out his light, till he began seriously to suspect that he might be the victim of invisible malignant powers. fortunately all these phenomena disappeared at break of day, and thus his vigorous mind, supported by true piety, was enabled to keep his judgment uninjured. diseases of every kind are a fruitful source of visions and some are rarely without them; but the character of visions differs according to the nature of the affections. persons who suffer with the liver have melancholy, consumptive patients have cheerful visions. epileptics often see fearful spectres during their paroxysms, and persons bitten by mad dogs see the animal that has caused their sufferings. the case of the bookseller nicolai in berlin is well known; the disease of which he suffered, is not only very common in some parts of russia, but productive of precisely the same symptoms. the patients experience first a sensation of great despondency, followed by a period of profound melancholy, during which they see themselves surrounded by a number of persons, with whom they converse and quarrel, half conscious of their own delusion and yet not able to master it wholly. they are generally bled, whereupon the images become transparent and shrink into smaller and smaller space, till they finally disappear entirely. affections of the heart and the subsequent unequal distribution of the blood through the system are apt to produce peculiar sounds, which at times fashion themselves into loud and harmonious pieces. the excitement usually attendant upon specially fatal plagues and contagious diseases increases the tendency which the latter naturally have to cause hallucinations. during a plague in the reign of justinian, men were seen walking through the crowd and touching here and there a person; the latter were at once attacked by the disease and invariably succumbed. upon another such occasion marks and spots appeared on the clothing of those who had caught the contagion, as if made by invisible hands, the sufferers began next to see a number of spectres and died in a short time. the same symptoms have accompanied the cholera in modern times, and more than once strange, utterly unknown persons were not only seen but heard, as they were conversing with others; what they said was written down in many cases, and proved to be predictions of approaching visits of the dread disease to neighboring houses. a magic power of foresight seems in these cases to be developed by the extreme excitement or deep anxiety, but the unconscious clairvoyance assumes the form of persons outside of their own mental sphere, within which they alone existed. by far the most frequent causes of visions are, however, those of psychical nature, like fixed ideas, intense passions, or deep-rooted prejudices, and concealed misdeeds. when they are produced by such causes they have often the appearance of having led to the commission of great crimes. thus julian the apostate, who had caused the image of his guardian angel to be put upon all his coins and banners, naturally had this form deeply impressed upon his mind. in the night before a decisive battle, he saw, according to ammianus marcellinus, this protecting genius in the act of turning away from him, and this vision made so deep an impression upon his mind that he interpreted it as an omen of his impending death. on the following day he fell in battle. the fearful penalty inflicted upon charles ix. by his own conscience is well known; after the massacre of st. bartholomew he saw, by day and by night, the forms of his victims around him, till death made an end to his sufferings. on our own continent, one of the early conquerors gave a striking instance of the manner in which such visions are produced. he was one of the adventurers who had reached darien, and was on the point of plundering a temple; but, a few days before, an indian woman had told him that the treasures it held were guarded by evil spirits, and if he entered it the earth would open and swallow up the temple and the conquerors alike. nothing daunted, he led his men to the attack; but, as they came in sight, he suddenly saw, in the evening light, how the colossal building rocked to and fro as in a tempest, and thoroughly intimidated he rode away with his followers, leaving the temple and its treasures unharmed. that visions are apt to precede atrocious crimes is quite natural, since they are in such cases nothing but the product of the intense excitement under which murders are often committed; but, it would be absurd to look upon them as motive causes. ravaillac had constant visions of angels, saints, and demons, while preparing his mind for the assassination of henry iv., and the young student who attempted the murder of napoleon at schönbrunn repeatedly saw the genius of germany, which appeared to him and encouraged him to free his country from the usurper. persons who attempt to summon ghosts are very apt to see them, because their mind is highly wrought up by their proceedings and they confidently expect to have visions. but some men possess a similar power without making any special effort or peculiar preparations, their firm volition sufficing for the purpose. thus talma could at all times force himself to see, in the place of the actual audience before whom he was acting, an assembly of skeletons, and he is said never to have acted better than when he gave himself up to this hallucination. painters, also, frequently have the power to summon before their mind's eye the features of those whose portrait they are painting; blake, for instance, was able actually to finish likenesses from images he saw sitting in the chair where the real persons had been seated. while visions are quite common, delusions of the other senses are less frequent. the insane alone hear strange conversations. hallucinations of the taste cause patients to enjoy delightful dishes, or to partake of spoiled meat and other unpalatable viands, which have no existence. sweet smells and incense are often perceived, bad odors much less frequently. the touch is of all senses the least likely to be deceived; still deranged people occasionally feel a slight touch as a severe blow, and persons suffering from certain diseases are convinced that ants, spiders, or other insects are running over their bodies. the favorite season of visions is night--mainly the hour about midnight--and in the whole year, the time of advent, but also the nights from christmas to new year. this is, of course, not a feature of supernatural life, but the simple effect of the greater quiet and the more thoughtful, inward life, which these seasons are apt to bring to busy men. the reality of our surroundings disappears with the setting sun, and in deep night we are rendered almost wholly independent of the influence exercised in the day by friends, family, and even furniture. all standards of measurement, moreover, disappear, and we lose the correct estimate of both space and time. turning our thoughts at such times with greater energy and perseverance inward, our imagination has free scope, and countless images appear before our mind's eye which are not subject to the laws of real life. darkness, stillness, and solitude, the three great features of midnight seasons, all favor the full activity of our fancy, and set criticism at defiance by denying us all means of comparison with real sounds or sights. at the same time, it is asserted, that under such circumstances men are also better qualified to perceive manifestations which, during the _turba_ of daily life, are carelessly ignored or really imperceptible to the common senses. so long as the intercourse with the world and its exigencies occupy all our thoughts, and self-interest makes us look fixedly only at some one great purpose of life, we are deaf and blind to all that does not clearly belong to this world. but when these demands are no longer made upon us, and especially when, as in the time of advent, our thoughts are somewhat drawn from earthly natures, and our eyes are lifted heavenward, then we are enabled to give free scope to our instincts, or, if we prefer the real name, to the additional sense by which we perceive intangible things. a comparison has often been drawn between the ability to see visions and our power to distinguish the stars. in the day, the brilliancy of the sun so far outshines the latter, that we see not a single one; at night they step forth, as it were, from the dark, and the deeper the blackness of the sky, the greater their own brightness. are they, on that account, nothing more than creatures of our imagination, set free by night and darkness? as for the favorite places where visions most frequently are seen, it seems that solitudes have already in ancient times always been looked upon as special resorts for evil spirits. the deserts of asia, with their deep gullies and numerous caves, suggested a population of shy and weird beings, whom few saw and no one knew fully. hence the fearful description of babylon in her overthrow, when "their houses shall be full of doleful creatures, and owls shall dwell there and satyrs shall dance there." (isaiah xiii. ). the new testament speaks in like manner of the deserts of palestine as the abode of evil spirits, and in later days the faroe islands were constantly referred to as peopled with weird and unearthly beings. the deserts of africa are full of djinns, and the vast plains of the east are peopled with weird apparitions. the solitudes of norwegian mountain districts abound with gnomes and sprites, and waste places everywhere are no sooner abandoned by men than they are occupied by evil spirits and become the scenes of wild and gruesome visions. well-authenticated cases of visions are recorded in unbroken succession from the times of antiquity to our own day, and leave no doubt on the mind that they are not only of common occurrence among men, but generally, also, accompanied by magic phenomena of great importance. the ancients saw, of course, most frequently their gods; the pagans, who had been converted to christianity, their former idols threatening them with dire punishment; and christians, their saints and martyrs, their angels and demons. thus all parties are supported by authorities in no way peculiar to one faith or another, but common to all humanity; and the battle is fought, for a time at least, between faith and faith, and between vision and vision. a famous rhetor, aristides, who is mentioned in history as one of the mightiest champions polytheism ever has been able to raise against triumphant christianity, saw, in his hours of exaltation, the great Æsculapius, who gave him directions how to carry on his warfare. at such times his public addresses became so attractive that thousands of enthusiastic hearers assembled to hang upon his lips. the story of the genius of socrates is well known; aulus gellius tells us how the great sage was seen standing motionless for twenty-four hours in the same place, before joining the expedition to potidea, so absorbed in deep thought that it seemed as if his soul had left the body. dion, plato's most intimate friend, saw a huge fury enter his house and sweep it with a broom; a conspiracy broke out, and he was murdered, after having lost his only son a few days before. (plutarch's "life of dion," .) the same simonides, who according to valerius maximus (_de somniis_, l. i. ch. ), had escaped from shipwreck by the timely warning of a spirit, was once dining at the magnificent house of skopas at cranon, in thessaly, when a servant entered to inform him that two gigantic youths were standing at the door and wished to see him immediately. he went out and found no one there; but, at the same moment, the roof and the walls of the dining-room fell down, burying all the guests under the ruins (phædrus' fab., iv. ). the ancients looked upon the vision, in both cases, as merely effects of the prophetic power of the poet, which saved him from immediate death; once in the form of a spirit and the second time in the form of the dioscuri. for, as simonides had shortly before written a beautiful poem in honor of castor and pollux, his escape and the friendly warning were naturally attributed to the heroic youths, who constantly appear in history as protective genii. in greece they were known to have fought, dressed in their purple cloaks and seated on snow-white horses, on the side of the locri, and to have announced their victory on the same day in olympia, and sparta, in corinth, and in athens (justin, ix. ). in rome they were credited with the victory on the banks of lake regillus, and reported to have, as in greece, dashed into the city, far ahead of all messengers, to proclaim the joyful news. during the macedonian war they met publius vatinius on his way to rome and informed him that, on the preceding day, Æmilius paulus had captured perseus. delighted with the news, the prefect hastens to the senate; but is discredited and actually sent to jail on the charge of indulging in idle gossip, unworthy of his high office. it was only when at last messengers came from the distant army and confirmed the report of perseus' captivity, that the unlucky prefect was set free again and honored with high rewards. in other cases the warning genius was seen in visions of different nature. thus hannibal was reported to have traced in his sleep the whole course and the success of all his plans, by the aid of his genius, who appeared to him in the shape of a child of marvelous beauty, sent by the great jupiter himself to direct his movements, and to make him master of italy. the child asked him to follow without turning to look back, but hannibal, yielding to the innate tendency to covet forbidden fruit, looked behind him and saw an immense serpent overthrowing all impediments in his way. then came a violent thunderstorm with fierce lightnings, which rent the strongest walls. hannibal asked the meaning of these portents, and was told that the storm signified the total subjection of italy, but that he must be silent and leave the rest to fate. that the vision was not fully realized, was naturally ascribed to his indiscretion. the genius of the two consuls, p. decius and manlius torquatus, assumed, on the contrary, the shape of a huge phantom which appeared at night in their camp at the foot of vesuvius, and announced the decision that one leader must fall in order to make the army victorious. upon the strength of this vision the two generals decided that he whose troops should first show signs of yielding, should seek death by advancing alone against the latin army. the legions of decius, therefore, no sooner began to fall back, than he threw himself, sword in hand, upon the enemy, and not only died a glorious death for his country, but secured a brilliant victory to his brethren. at a later period a genius saved the life of octavian, when he and antony were encamped at philippi, on the eve of the great battle against brutus and cassius. the vision appeared not to himself, however, but to another person, his own physician, artorus, who, in a dream, was ordered to advise his master to appear on the battle-field in spite of his serious indisposition. octavian followed the advice and went out, though he had to be carried by his men in a litter; during his absence the soldiers of brutus entered the camp and actually searched his tent, in which he would have perished inevitably without the timely warning. of a very different nature was the vision of cassius, the lieutenant of antony, who, during his flight to athens, saw at night a huge black phantom, which informed him that he was his evil spirit. in his terror he called his servants and inquired what they had seen, but they had noticed nothing. thus tranquilized, he fell asleep again, but the phantom returned once more, and disturbed his mind so painfully that he remained awake the rest of the night, surrounded by his guards and slaves. the vision was afterwards interpreted as an omen of his impending violent death. the emperor trajan was saved from death during a fearful earthquake by a man of colossal proportions, who came to lead him out of his palace at antioch; and attila, who, to the surprise of the world, spared rome and italy at the request of pope leo the great, mentioned as the true motive of his action the appearance of a majestic old man in priestly garments, who had threatened him, drawing his sword, with instant death if he did not grant all that the roman high-priest should demand. in other cases, which are as numerous as they are striking, the genius assumes the shape of a woman. thus dio cassius ("hist. rome," l. lv.), as well as suetonius ("claudius," l. i), relate that when drusus had ravaged germany, and was on the point of crossing the elbe, the formidable shape of a gigantic woman appeared to him, who waded up to the middle of the stream and then called out: "whither, o drusus? canst thou put no limit to thy thirst of conquest? back! the end of thy deeds and of thy life is at hand!" history records that drusus fell back without apparent reason, and that he died before he reached the banks of the rhine. tacitus tells us, in like manner, a vision which encouraged curtius rufus at the time when he, a gladiator's son, and holding a most humble position, was accompanying a quæstor on his way to africa. as he walked up and down a passage in deep meditation, a woman of unusual size appeared to him and said: "thou, o rufus, shalt be proconsul of this province!" the young man, perhaps encouraged and supported by a vision which was the result of his own ambitious dreams, rose rapidly by his eminent ability, and after he had reached the consulate, really obtained the province of africa (ann., xi. ). the younger pliny, who tells the same story in his admirable letter to sura on the subject of magic, adds that the genius appeared a second time to the great proconsul, but remained silent. the latter saw in this silence a warning of approaching death, and prepared for his end, which did not fail soon to close his career. it is very striking to see how in these visions also the inner life of man was invariably clearly and distinctly reflected. the ambitious youth saw his good fortune personified in the shape of a beautiful woman, which his excited imagination called africa, and which he hoped some time or other to call his own. brutus, on the contrary, full of anticipations of evil, and suffering, and perhaps unconsciously, bitter remorse on account of cæsar's murder, saw his sad fate as a hideous demon. the army, also, sharing, no doubt, their leader's dark apprehensions, looked upon the black Æthiopian who entered the camp as an evil omen. the appointed meeting at philippi was merely an evidence of the superior ability of brutus, who foresaw the probable course of the war and knew the great strategic importance of the famous town. in the same manner a tradition was long cherished in augsburg of a fanatic heroine on horseback, who appeared to attila when he attempted to cross the river lech on his way from italy to pannonia. she called out to him: "back!" and made a deep impression upon his mind. the picture of the giant woman was long preserved in a minorite convent in the city, and was evidently german in features and in costume. it is by no means impossible that the lofty but superstitious mind of the ruthless conqueror, after having long busied itself with his approaching attack upon a mighty, unknown nation, personified to himself in a momentary trance the genius of that race in the shape of a majestic woman. this was all the more probable as holy writ also presents to us a whole series of mighty women who exercised at times a lasting influence on the fate of the chosen people, and the world's history abounds with similar instances. there was deborah, "a prophetess who judged israel at that time," and went to aid in the defeat of sisera, and there was huldah, the prophetess, who warned josiah, king of judah. we have the same grand images in greek and in roman history, and german annals mention more than one jettha and velleda. the series of warnings given by the more tender-hearted sex runs through the annals of modern races from the oldest times to our own day. one of the latest instances happened to a king well known for his sneering skepticism and his utter disbelief of all higher powers. this was bernadotte, who forsook his benefactor in order to mount the throne of sweden, and turned his own sword against his former master. long years after the fall of napoleon, he was on the point of sending his son oscar with an army against norway, and met with much opposition in the council of state. full of impatience and indignation, he mounted his horse and rode out to cool his heated mind; as he approached a dark forest near stockholm, he saw an old woman sitting by the wayside, whose quaint costume and wild, disheveled hair attracted his attention. he asked her roughly what she was doing there? her reply was: "if oscar goes into the war which you propose, he will not strike but receive the first blow." the king was impressed by the warning and returned, full of thoughts, to his palace; after a sleepless night he informed the council of state that he had changed his views, and would not send the prince to norway (_la presse_, may , ). even if we accept the interview with the woman as a mere vision, the effect of the king's long and anxious preoccupation with an important plan upon the success of which the security of his throne and the continuation of his dynasty might depend, the question still remains, why a man of his tastes and haughty skepticism should have clothed his doubts in words uttered by an old woman, dressed in fancy costume? the number of practical, sensible men who have, even in recent times, believed themselves under the special care and protection of a genius or guardian angel, is much larger than is commonly known. the ancients looked upon a genius as a part of their mythology; and modern christians, who cherish this belief, refer to the fact that the saviour said of little children: "in heaven their _angels_ do always behold the face of my father" (matt. xviii. ). these visions--for so they must be called--vary greatly in different persons. to some men they appear only when great dangers are threatening or sublime efforts have to be made; while in others, they assume, by their frequency, a more or less permanent form, and may even be inherited, becoming tutelary deities of certain houses, familiar spirits, or specially appointed guardian angels of the members of a family or single individuals. hence, the well-known accounts of the genius of socrates and the familiar spirits of the bible, in ancient times. hence, also, the almost uninterrupted line of similar accounts through the middle ages down to our own day. thus, campanella stated that whenever he was threatened with misfortune, he fell into a state half way between waking and sleeping, in which he heard a voice say: "campanella! campanella!" and several other words, without ever seeing a person. calignan, chancelor of navarre, heard in béarn, his name called three times, and then received a warning from the same voice to leave the town promptly, as the plague was to rage there fearfully. he obeyed the order, and escaped the ravages of the terrible disease (beaumont, "tractat.," etc., p. ). the jesuit giovanni carrera had a protecting genius, whom he frequently consulted in cases of special difficulty. he became so familiar with him, that he had himself waked every night for his prayers, but when at times he hesitated to rise at once, the spirit abandoned him for a time, and carrera could only induce him to come back by long-continued praying and fasting ("hist. s. j.," iii. p. ). the bernadottes had a tradition that one of their ancestors had married a fairy, who remained the good genius of the family, and long since had predicted that one of that blood would mount a throne. the bernadotte who became a king never forgot the prophecy, and was largely influenced by it, when the swedish nobles offered him the throne. it is well known that napoleon himself either believed, or affected to believe, in a good genius, who guided his steps and protected him from danger. he appeared, according to his own statements, sometimes in the shape of a ball of fire, which he called his "star," or as a man dressed in red, who paid him occasional visits. general rapp relates that, in the year , he once found the emperor in his room, apparently absorbed in such deep meditation that he did not notice his entrance, but that, when fairly aroused, he seized rapp by the arm and asked him if saw that star? when the latter replied that he saw nothing, napoleon continued: "it is my star; it is standing just above you. it has never forsaken me; i see it on all important occasions; it orders me to go on, and has always been a token of success." the story, coming from general rapp himself, is quoted here as endorsed by the great historian, amédée thierry. des mousseaux reports the following facts upon the evidence of trustworthy personal friends. (_la magie_, etc., p. .) a mme. n., the daughter of a general, was constantly visited by her mother, who had died long ago, and received from her frequent information of secret things, which procured for herself the reputation of being a prophetess. at one time her mother's spirit warned her to try and prevent her husband, who would die by suicide, from carrying out his purpose. every precaution was taken, and even the knives and forks were removed after meals; but it so happened that a soldier of the national guard came into the house and left his loaded gun in an anteroom. the lady's husband unfortunately chanced to see it, took it and blew his brains out on the spot. a peculiarly interesting class of visions are those to which great artists have, at times, owed their greatest triumphs. here, also, the line between mere delusion and real magic phenomena is often so faint as to escape attention. for artists must needs cultivate their imagination at the expense of other faculties, and naturally live more in an ideal world than in a real world. preoccupied as they are, by the nature of their pursuits, with images of more than earthly beauty, they come easily to form ideals in their minds, which they endeavor to fix first upon their memory, and then upon canvas or in marble, on paper or in rapturous words. raphael sanzio had long in vain tried to portray the holy virgin according to a vague ideal in his mind; at last he awoke one night and saw in the place where his sketch was hanging a bright light, and in the radiance the mother of christ in matchless beauty, and with supernatural holiness in her features. the vision remained deeply impressed upon his mind, and was ever after the original of which even his best madonnas could only be imperfect copies. benvenuto cellini, when sick unto death, repeatedly saw an old man trying to pull him down into his boat, but as soon as his faithful servant came and touched him, the hideous vision disappeared. the artist had evidently a picture of charon and his acherontic boat in his mind, which was thus reproduced in his feverish dreams. on another occasion, when he had long been in prison, and in despair contemplated suicide, an "unknown being" suddenly seized him and hurled him back to a distance of four yards, where he remained lying for hours half dead. in the following night a "fair youth" appeared to him and made him bitter reproaches on account of his sinful purpose. the same youthful genius appeared to him repeatedly when a great crisis approached in his marvelously adventurous life, and more than once revealed to him the mysteries of the future. (goethe's "benv. cell." i. p. .) poor tasso had fearful hallucinations during the time when his mind was disordered, but above them all hovered, as it were, the vision of a glorious virgin surrounded by a bright light, which always comforted and probably alone saved him from self-destruction. like raphael, dannecker also had long tried in vain to find perfect expression for his ideal of a christ on the cross; one night, however, he also saw the saviour in a dream, and at once proceeded to form his model, from which was afterwards copied the well-known statue of transcendent beauty and power. paganini used to tell with an amusing air of assumed awe and reverence, that his mother had seen, a few days before his birth, an angel with two wings and of such dazzling splendor that she could not bear to look at the apparition. the heavenly messenger invited her to express a wish, and promised that it should be fulfilled. thereupon she begged him on her knees to make her nicolo a great violinist, and was told that it should be so. the vision--perhaps nothing more than a vivid form of earnest desire and fervent prayer--had, no doubt, a serious influence on the great artist, who was himself strangely susceptible to such impressions. (_moniteur_, sept. , .) nothing can here be said, according to the purpose of these sketches, of the long series of visions vouchsafed to martyrs and saints; their history belongs to theology. but holy men have, independent of their religious convictions, often been as famous for their visions as for the piety of their hearts, and their achievements in the world. loyola, for instance, with his faculties perpetually strained to the utmost, and with his thoughts bent forever upon a grand and holy aim, could not well fail to rise to a state of psychic excitement which naturally produced impressive visions. hence he continually saw strange sights and heard mysterious voices, the effect now of extreme despondency and now of restored confidence in god and in himself as the agent of the most high. and yet these visions never interfered with the clearness of his judgment nor with his promptness and energy in acting. luther, also, one of the most practical men ever called upon to act and to lead in a great crisis, had visions; he saw the devil and held loud discussions with him; he suffered by his persecutions, and made great efforts to rid himself of his unwelcome guest, while engaged in his great work, the translation of the bible. for he was, after all--and for very great and good purposes--only a man of his age, imbued with the universal belief in the personal existence and constant presence of satan, and felt, at the same time, that he was engaged in a warfare upon the results of which depended not only the earthly welfare, but the eternal salvation of millions. it is difficult to say whether mohammed, who had undoubtedly visions innumerable, received any aid from his hallucinations in devising his new faith. men of science tell us that he suffered of _hysteria muscularis_, a disease not uncommon in men as well as in women, which produces periodical paroxysms and is characterized by an alternate contraction and expansion of the muscles. when the attack came the prophet's lips and tongue would begin to vibrate, his eyes turned up, and the head moved automatically. if the paroxysms were very violent he fell to the ground, his face turned purple, and he breathed with difficulty. as he frequently retained his consciousness he pretended that these symptoms were caused by angels' visits, and each attack was followed by a new revelation. the disease was the result of his early lawless life and of the freedom which he claimed, even in later years--pleading a special dispensation from on high as a divinely inspired prophet. it is not to be wondered at that the new religion, springing from such a source, and proclaimed amid the mountains and steppes of arabia, which, according to popular belief, are all alive with djinns and demons, should be largely based upon visions and hallucinations. the important part which visions hold in the history of the various religions of the earth lies beyond our present purpose; we know, however, that the records of ancient temples, of prophets, saints, and martyrs, and of later convents and churches, abound with instances of such so-called revelations from on high. they have more than once served at critical times to excite individuals and whole nations to make sublime efforts. one of the best known cases of the former class is that of constantine the great, who told eusebius of cæsarea, affirming his statement with a solemn oath, that he saw in , shortly before the decisive battle at rome against his formidable adversary magentius, a bright cross in the heavens, surrounded by the words: _in hoc signo vinces_. but this vision stood by no means alone. he himself beheld, besides, in a dream during the following night, the saviour, who ordered him to use in battle henceforth a banner like that which he had seen in his vision. nazarius, a pagan, also speaks of a number of marvelous signs in the heavens seen in gaul immediately before the emperor's great victory. nor can it be doubted that this vision not only inspired constantine with new hopes and new courage, enabling him to secure his triumph, but also induced him, after his success, to avow himself openly a convert to the faith of christ. the visions of that eminent man swedenborg are too well known to require here more than a mere allusion. beginning his intercourse with the supernatural world at the ripe age of forty-five, he soon gave himself up to it systematically, and felt compelled to make his daily conversations, as well as the revelations he received from time to time, duly known to the public. thus he wrote with an evident air of firm conviction: "i had recently a conference with the apostle paul;" and at another time he assured a würtemberg prelate, "i have conferred with st. paul for a whole year, especially about the words in romans iii. . three times i have conversed with st. john, once with moses, and a hundred times with luther, when the latter confessed that he had taught _fidem solam_ contrary to the warning of an angel, and that he had stood alone when renouncing the pope. with angels, finally, i have held constant intercourse for the last twenty years, and still hold daily conversations." classic as well as christian art, is indebted to visions for more than one signal success. on the other hand, they have as frequently been made to serve vile purposes, mainly by feeding superstition and supporting religious tyranny. we need only recall the terrible calamity caused by a wretched shepherd boy in france, who, in , saw, or pretended to see, heavenly visions, ordering him to enlist his comrades, and with their aid, to rescue the holy land from the possession of infidels. thousands of little children were seized by the contagious excitement, and leaving their home and their kindred, followed their youthful leader, unchecked by the authorities, because of the interpretation applied to the words of jesus: "suffer little children to come unto me!" not one of them ever reached palestine, as all perished long before they had reached even southern france. it is not exactly a magic phenomenon, but certainly a most startling feature in visions, that the minds of many men should be able, by their own volition, to create images and forms so perfectly like those existing in the world around us, that the same minds are incapable of distinguishing where hallucination and reality touch each other. this faculty varies, of course, as much as other endowments: sometimes it produces nothing but vague, shapeless lights or sounds; in other persons it is capable of calling up well-defined forms, and of causing even words to be heard and pain to be inflicted. during severe suffering in body or soul, it may become a comforter, and in the moment of passing through the valley of the shadow of death, it is apt to soothe the anguish, by visions of heavenly bliss, but to an evil conscience it may also appear as an avenger, by prefiguring impending judgment and condemnation. it is this influence on the lives of men, and their great moral importance, which lends to visions--and in a certain degree even to hallucinations--additional interest, and makes it our duty not to set them aside as mere idle phantoms, but to try to ascertain their true nature and final purpose. this is all the more necessary, as in our day visions are considered purely the offspring of the seer's own mental activity, a truth abundantly proven by the simple fact that blind or deaf people are quite as capable of having visions and hallucinations, as those who have the use of all their senses. thus these magic phenomena have, in an unbroken chain, accompanied almost all the great men who are known to history, from the earliest time to our own day. in modern times they have often been successfully traced to bodily and mental disorders; but this fact diminishes in no way the interest which they have for the student of magic. the great pascal, who was once threatened with instant death by the upsetting of his carriage, henceforth saw perpetually an abyss by his side, from which fiery flames issued forth; he could conceal it by simply placing a chair or a table between it and his eyes. in the case of the english painter blake, who had visions of historic personages which appeared to him in idealized outlines, his periodical aberrations of mind were accepted as sufficient explanation. the bookseller nicolai, of berlin, on the contrary, who, like beaumont, saw hundreds of men, women, and children accompanying him in his walks or visiting him in his chamber, found his ghostly company dependent on the state of his health. when he was bled or when leeches were applied, the images grew pale, and disappeared in part or dissolved entirely. a peculiarity of his case was, that he never saw visions in the dark, but all his phantasms appeared in broad daylight, or at night when candles had been brought in or a large fire was burning in the fireplace. captain henry bell had been repeatedly urged by a german friend of his, caspar von sparr, to translate the table-talk of martin luther, which, having been suppressed by an edict of the emperor rudolphus, had become very rare, and of which sparr had sent him a copy, discovered by himself in a cellar where it had lain buried for fifty-two years. captain bell commenced the work; but abandoned it after a little while. a few weeks later a white-haired old man appeared to him at night, pulling his ear and saying: "what! will you not take time to translate the book? i will give you soon a place for it and the necessary leisure." bell was much startled; but nevertheless neglected the work. a fortnight after the vision he was arrested and lodged in the gate-house of westminster, where he remained for ten years, of which he spent five in the translation of the work. (beaumont, "tractat.," p. .) even religious visions have by no means ceased in modern times, and more than one remarkable conversion is ascribed to such agency. we do not speak of so-called miracles like that of the children of salette in the department of the isère, in , or the recent revelations at lourdes, and in southern alsace, which were publicly endorsed by leading men of the church, and have furnished rich material even for political demonstrations. the vision of major gardiner, also, who, just before committing a sinful action, beheld the saviour and became a changed man, has been so often published and so thoroughly discussed that it need not be repeated here. the conversion of young ratisbone, in , created at the time an immense sensation. he was born of jewish parents, but, like only too many of his race, grew up to become a freethinker and a scoffer, rejecting all faiths as idle superstitions. one day he strolled into the church delle fratte in rome, and while sunk in deep meditation, suddenly beheld a vision of the virgin mary, which made so deep an impression upon him that it changed the whole tenor of his life. he gave up the great wealth to which he had fallen heir, he renounced a lovely betrothed, and resolutely turning his back upon the world, he entered, as a novice, into a jesuit convent; thus literally forsaking all in order to follow christ. the magic phenomena accompanying visions, have, among nations of the sclavic race, not unfrequently a specially formidable and repellent character, corresponding, no doubt, with the temperament and turn of imagination peculiar to that race. the sclaves are apt to be ridden by invisible men, till they drop down in a swoon; they are driven by wild beasts to the graves of criminals, where they behold fearful sights, or they are forced to mingle with troops of evil spirits roving over the wide, waste steppes, and they invariably suffer from the sad effects of such visions, till a premature death relieves them after a few months. in wallachia a special vision of the so-called pickolitch is quite common, and has, in one case at least, been officially recorded by military authorities. a poor private soldier, who had already more than once suffered from visions, was ordered to stand guard in a lonely mountain pass, and forced by the rules of the service to take his place there, although he begged hard to be allowed to exchange with a brother soldier, as he knew he would come to grief. the officer in command, struck by the earnestness of his prayer, promised to lend him all possible assistance, and placed a second sentinel for his support close behind him. at half past ten o'clock the officer and a high civil functionary saw a dark figure rush by the house in which they were; they hastened at once to the post, where two shots had fallen in rapid succession, and found the inner sentinel, the still smoking rifle in hand, staring fixedly at the place where his comrade had stood, and utterly unconscious of the approach of his superior. when they reached the outer post they found the rifle on the ground, shattered to pieces, and the heavy barrel bent in the shape of a scythe, while the man himself lay at a considerable distance, groaning with pain, for his whole body was so severely burnt that he died on the following day. the survivor stated that a black figure had fallen, as if from heaven, upon his comrade and torn him to pieces in spite of the two shots he had fired at it from a short distance, then it had vanished again in an instant. the matter was duly reported to headquarters, and when an investigation was ordered, the fact was discovered that a number of precisely similar occurrences had already been officially recorded. the vision is, of course, nothing more than a product of the excited imagination of the mountaineers, who lend the favorite shape of a "pickolitch" to the frequent, bizarre-looking masses of fog and mist which rise in their dark valleys, hover over gullies and abysses, and driven by a sudden current of wind, fly upward with amazing rapidity, and thus seem to disappear in an instant. the apprehension of the poor sentinel, on the other hand, was a kind of clairvoyance produced by the combined influence of local tradition, the nightly hour and the dark pass, upon a previously-excited mind, while the vision of the two officers was a similar magic phenomena, the result of the impressions made upon them by the instant prayer of the victim, and a hot discussion about the reality of the "prikolitch." the sentinel probably saw a weird shape and fired; the gun burst and killed him outright, setting fire to his clothes, a supposition strengthened by the statement that the poor fellow, anticipating a meeting with the spectre, had put a double charge into his rifle. the accident teaches once more that a mere denial of facts and a haughty smile at the idea of visions profit us nothing, while a calm and careful examination of all the circumstances may throw much light upon their nature, and help, in the course of time, to extirpate fatal superstitions, like those of the "prikolitch." it is interesting to see how harmless and even pleasant are, in comparison, the visions of men with well-trained minds and kindly dispositions. the bookseller nicolai entertained his phantom-guests, and was much amused, at times, by their conversation. macnish ("sleep," p. ) tells us the same of dr. bostock, who had frequent visions, and of an elderly lady whom dr. alderson treated for gout, and who received friendly visits from kinsmen and acquaintances with whom she conversed, but who disappeared instantly when she rang for her maid. another patient of dr. alderson's, who saw himself in the same manner surrounded by numbers of persons, even felt the blows which a phantom-carter gave him with his whip. although in all these cases the visions disappeared after energetic bleeding and purging, the phenomena were nevertheless real as far as they affected the patient, and have in every instance been fully authenticated and scientifically investigated. the well-known author, macnish, himself was frequently a victim of this kind of self-delusion; he saw during an attack of fever fearful hellish shapes, forming and dissolving at pleasure, and during one night he beheld a whole theatre filled with people, among whom he recognized many friends and acquaintances, while on the stage he saw the famous ducrow with his horses. as soon as he opened his eyes the scene disappeared, but the music continued, for the orchestra played a magnificent march from aladdin, and did not cease its magic performance for five hours. the vision of the eye seems thus to have been under the influence of his will, but his hearing was beyond his control. a very interesting class of visions accompanied by undoubted magic phenomena, and as frequent in our day as at any previous period, is formed by those which are the result of climatic and topographic peculiarities. we have already stated that the peculiar impression made upon predisposed minds by vast deserts and boundless wastes is frequently ascribed, by the superstitious dwellers near such localities, to the influence of evil spirits. such a vision is the ragl of northern africa, which occurs either after fatiguing journeys through the dry, hot desert, in consequence of great nervous excitement, or as one of the symptoms of typhoid fever in native patients. seeing and hearing are alike affected, the other senses only in rare cases. ordinarily the eye sees everything immensely magnified or oddly changed; pebbles become huge blocks of stone, faint tracks in the hot sand change into broad causeways or ample meadows, and distant shadows appear as animals, wells, or mountain-dells. if the moon rises the vision increases in size and distinctness; the scene becomes animated, men pass by, camels follow each other in long lines, and troops are marching past in battalions. then the ear also begins to succumb to the charm; the rustling of dry leaves becomes the sweet song of numerous birds; the wind changes into cries of despair, and the noise of falling sand into distant thunder. the brain remains apparently unaffected, for travelers suffering of the ragl are able to make notes and record the symptoms, although the note-book looks to them like a huge album with costly engravings. there can be little doubt that the great afflux of blood to the eyes and the ears is the first cause of these phenomena, but the peculiar nature of the visions remains still a mystery. one striking peculiarity is their unvarying identity in men of the same race and culture; europeans have their own hallucinations which are not shared by africans; the former see churches, houses, and carriages, the latter mosques, tents, and camels, thus proving here also the fact that these delusions of the senses are produced in the mind and not in the outer world. travelers who suffer from hunger or from the dread effects of the simoon are naturally more subject to the ragl than others; the visions generally appear towards midnight and continue till six or seven o'clock in the morning, while during the day they are only seen in cases of aggravated suffering. another peculiarity is the fact that these visions connect themselves only with small objects and moderate sounds; the gentle friction of a vibrating tassel on his camel's neck appeared to the great explorer richardson like the clacking of a mill-wheel, but the words shouted by his companion sounded quite natural. thus he saw in every little lichen a green garden spot, but the stars he discerned distinctly enough to direct his way by them even when suffering most intensely from the ragl. the fata morgana of the so-called great desert in oregon, in which the waters of the paducah, kansas, and arkansas lose themselves to a great extent, is a kindred affection. here also phantoms of every kind are seen, gigantic horsemen, colossal buildings, and flitting fires; but the absence of heat makes the visions less frequent and less distinct. the indians, however, like the moors of africa, dread these apparitions and ascribe them to evil spirits. these phenomena have besides a special interest, by proving how constantly in all these questions of modern magic facts are combined with mere delusions. the flitting fires, to which we alluded, for instance, are not mere visions, but real and tangible substances, the effect of gaseous effusions which are quite frequent on these steppes. so it is also with the local visions peculiar to mountain regions, like the little gray man of the grisons in switzerland and the gnomes of miners in almost all lands. the dwellers in alpine regions acquire--or even inherit, it may be--a peculiar power of divination with regard to the weather; they feel instinctively, and without ever giving themselves the trouble of trying to ascertain the reason, the approach of fogs and mists, so dangerous to the welfare of their herds and their own safety. this presentiment is clothed by local traditions and their own vivid imaginations in the familiar shape of supernatural beings, and what was at first perhaps merely a form of speech, has gradually become a deep-rooted belief handed down from father to son. they end by really seeing--with their mind's eye--the rising mists and drifting fogs in the shape which they have so often heard mentioned, or give to rising gases, far down in the bowels of the earth, the form of familiar gnomes. these visions are hence not altogether produced by the imagination, but have, so to say, a grain of truth around which the weird form is woven. a numerous class of visions, presenting some of the most interesting phenomena of this branch of magic, must be looked upon as the result of the innate desire to fathom the mystery of future life. the human heart, conscious of immortality by nature and assured of it by revelation, desires ardently to lift the veil which conceals the secrets of the life to come. among other means to accomplish this, the promise has often been exacted of dear friends, that they would, after death, return and make known their condition in the other world. such compacts have been made from time immemorial--but so far their only result has been that the survivors have believed occasionally that they have received visits from deceased friends--in other words, that their state of great excitement and eager expectation has caused them to have visions. it remains true, after all, that from that bourne no traveler ever returns. nevertheless, these visions have a deep interest for the psychologist, as they are the result of unconscious action, and thus display what thoughts dwell in our innermost heart concerning the future. v. ghosts. "sunt aliquid manes; letum non omnia finit." there are few subjects, outside of the vexed questions of theology, on which eminent men of all nations and ages have held more varied views than so-called ghosts. the very term has been understood differently by almost every great writer who has approached the boundary line of this department of magic. the word which is now commonly used in order to designate any immaterial being, not made of the earth, earthy, or perhaps, in a higher sense, the "body spiritual" of st. paul, was in the early days of christianity applied to the visible spirits of deceased persons only. in the middle ages again, when everything weird and unnatural was unhesitatingly ascribed to diabolic agency, these phenomena, also, were regarded as nothing else but the devil's work. theologians have added in recent days a new subject of controversy to this vexed matter. the divines of the seventeenth and eighteenth century denied, of course, the possibility of a reappearance of the spirits of the departed, as they were in consistency bound to deny the existence of a purgatory, and yet, from purgatory alone were these spirits, according to popular belief, allowed to revisit the earth--heaven and hell being comparatively closed places. as the people insisted upon seeing ghosts, however, there remained nothing but to declare them to be delusions produced for malign purposes by the evil one himself; and so decided, not many generations ago, the consistory of basle in an appeal made by a german mystic author, jung stilling. and yet it is evident that a number of eminent thinkers, and not a few of the most skeptic philosophers even, have believed in the occurrence of such visits by inmates of sheol. hugo grotius and puffendorf, whose far-famed worldly wisdom entitles their views to great respect, machiavelli and boccaccio, thomasius and even kant, all have repeatedly admitted the existence of what we familiarly call ghosts. the great philosopher of königsberg enters fully into the subject. "immaterial beings," he says, "including the souls of men and animals, may exist, though they must be considered as not filling space but only acting within the limits of space." he admits the probability that ere long the process will be discovered, by which the human soul, even in this life, is closely connected with the immaterial inmates of the world of spirits, a connection which he states to be operative in both directions, men affecting spirits and spirits acting upon men, though the latter are unconscious of such impressions "as long as all is well." in the same manner in which the physical world is under the control of a law of gravity, he believes the spiritual world to be ruled by a moral law, which causes a distinction between good and evil spirits. the same belief is entertained and fully discussed by french authors of eminence, such as des mousseaux, de mirville, and others. the catholic church has never absolutely denied the doctrine of ghosts, perhaps considering itself bound by the biblical statement that "the graves were opened and many bodies of the saints which slept, arose and came out of the graves and went into the holy city and appeared unto many." (st. matt. xxvii. .) tertullian, st. augustine, and thomas de aquinas, all state distinctly, as a dogma, that the souls of the departed can leave their home, though not at will, but only by special permission of the almighty. st. augustine mentions saints by whom he was visited, and thomas de aquinas speaks even of the return of accursed inmates of hell, for the purpose of terrifying and converting criminals in this world. the "encyclopedia of catholic theology" (iv. p. ) states that "although the theory of ghosts has never become a dogma of the holy church, it has ever maintained itself, and existed in the days of christ, who did not condemn it, when it was mentioned in his presence." (st. matt. xiv. ; st. luke xxiv. .) calmet, the well-known benedictine abbot of senon, in lorraine, who was one of the most renowned theological writers of the eighteenth century, says (i. ): "apparitions of ghosts would be more readily understood if spirits had a body; but the holy church has decided that angels, devils and the spirits of the departed are pure immaterial spirits. since this question transcends our mental faculties, we must submit to the judgment of the church, which cannot err." another great theologian, the german bengel, on the contrary, assumed that "probably the apparitions of the departed have a prescribed limit and then cease; they continue probably as long as all the ties between body and soul are not fully dissolved." this question of the nature of our existence during the time immediately following death, is, it is well known, one of the most vexed of our day, for while most divines of the protestant church assume an immediate decision of our eternal fate, others admit the probability of an intermediate state, and the catholic church has its well-known probationary state in purgatory. it may as well be stated here at once that the whole theory of ghosts is admissible only if we assume that there follows after death a period during which the soul undergoes, not an immediate rupture, but a slow, gradual separation from its body, accompanied by a similar gradual adaptation to its new mode of existence. whether the spirit, during this time, is still sufficiently akin to earthy substances to be able to clothe itself into some material perceptible to the senses of living men, is of comparatively little importance. the idea of such an "ethereal body" is very old, and has never ceased to be entertained. thus, in , already guido de la tones, who died in verona, appeared during eight days to his wife, his neighbors, and a number of devout priests, and declared in answer to their questions that the spirits of the departed possessed the power to clothe themselves with air, and thus to become perceptible to living beings. bayle also, in his article on spinoza (note ), advocates the possibility, at least, of physical effects being produced by agents whose presence we are not able to perceive by the use of our ordinary senses. even so eminently practical a mind as lessing's was bewildered by the difficulties surrounding this question, and he declared that "here his wits were at an end." another great german writer, goerres, in his "christian mystic" (iii. p. ), not only admits the existence of ghosts, but explains them as "the higher prototypal form of man freed from the earthy form, the spectrum relieved of its envelope, which can be present wherever it chooses within the prescribed limits of its domain." this view is, however, not supported by the experience of those who believe they have seen ghosts; for the latter appear only occasionally in a higher, purified form, resembling ethereal beings, as a mere whitish vapor or a shape formed of faint light; by far more generally they are seen in the form and even the costume of their earthy existence. the only evidence of really supernatural or magic powers accompanying such phenomena consists in the ineffable dread which is apt to oppress the heart and to cause intense bodily suffering; in the cold chill which invariably precedes the apparition, and in the profound and exquisitely painful emotion which is never again forgotten throughout life. as yet, the subject has been so little studied by candid inquiries, that there are but a few facts which can be mentioned as fully established. the form and shape under which ghosts appear, are the result of the imagination of the ghost seer only, whether he beholds angels or devils, men or animals. if his receptive power is highly developed, he will see them in their completeness, and discern even the minutest details; weak persons, on the other hand, perceive nothing more than a faint, luminous or whitish appearance, mere fragmentary and embryonic visions. these powers of perception may, however, be improved by practice, and those who see ghosts frequently, are sure to discover one feature after another, until the whole form stands clearly and distinctly before their mind's eye. the ear is generally more susceptible than the eye to the approach of ghosts, and often warns the mind long before the apparition becomes visible. the noises heard are apt to be vague and ill defined, consisting mainly of a low whispering or restless rustling, a strange moving to and fro, or the blowing of cold air in various directions. many sounds, however, are so peculiar, that they are never heard except in connection with ghosts, and hence, baffle all description. it need not be added, that the great majority of such sounds also exist only in the mind of the hearer, but as the latter is, in his state of excitement, fully persuaded that he hears them, they are to him as real as if they existed outside of his being. nor are they always confined to the ghost seer. on the contrary, the hearing of such sounds is as contagious as the seeing of such sights; and not only men are thus affected, and see and hear what others experience, but even the higher animals, horses and dogs, share in this susceptibility. when ghosts appear to speak, the voice is almost always engastrimantic, that is, the ghost seer produces the words himself, in a state of ecstatic unconsciousness, and probably by a kind of instinctive ventriloquism. to these phenomena of sight and hearing must be added, thirdly, the occasional violent moving about of heavy substances. furniture seems to change its place, ponderous objects disappear entirely, or the whole surrounding scene assumes a new order and arrangement. these phenomena, as far as they really exist, must be ascribed to higher, as yet unexplained powers, and suggest the view entertained by many writers on the subject, that disembodied spirits, as they are freed from the mechanical laws of nature, possess also the power to suspend them in everything with which they come in contact. the last feature in ghost-seeing, which is essential, is the cold shudder, the ineffable dread, which falls upon poor mortal man, at the moment when he is brought into contact with an unknown world. already job said: "fear came upon me and trembling, which made all my bones to shake. then a spirit passed before my face; the hair of my flesh stood up" (iv. , ). this sense of vague, and yet almost intolerable dread, resembles the agony of the dying man; it is perfectly natural, since the seeing of ghosts, that is, of disembodied spirits, can only become possible by the more or less complete suspension of the ordinary life in the flesh. for a moment, all bodily functions are suspended, the activity of the brain ceases, and consciousness itself is lost as in a fit of fainting. this rarely happens without a brief instinctive struggle, and the final victory of an unseen and unknown power, which deprives the mind of its habitual mastery over the body, is necessarily accompanied by intense pain and overwhelming anguish. well-authenticated cases of the appearance of spirits of departed persons are mentioned in the earliest writings. valerius maximus relates in graphic words the experience of the poet simonides, who was about to enter a vessel for the purpose of undertaking a long journey with some of his friends, when he discovered a dead body lying unburied on the sea-shore. shocked by the impiety of the unknown man's friends, he delayed his departure to give to the corpse a decent funeral. during the following night, the spirit of this man appeared to him and advised him not to sail on the next day. he obeys the warning; his friends leave without him, and perish miserably in a great tempest. deeply moved by his sad loss, but equally grateful for his own miraculous escape, he erected to the memory of his unknown friend a noble monument in verses, unmatched in beauty and pathos. phlegon, also, the freedman of the emperor hadrian, has left us in his work, _de mirabilibus_, one of the most touching instances of such ghost-seeing; it is the well-known story of machates and philimion, which goethe reproduced in his "bride of corinth." nor must we forget the numerous examples of visions in dreams, by which the almighty chose to reveal his will to his beloved among the chosen people--a series of apparitions, which the church has taken care to continue during the earlier ages, in almost unbroken succession from saint to saint. pagans were converted by such revelations, martyrs were comforted, the wounded healed, and even an emperor, constantine, cured of leprosy, by the appearance of the two apostles, peter and paul. the truth, which lies at the bottom of all such appearances, is probably, that ghostly disturbances are uniformly the acts of men, but of men who have ceased for a time to be free agents, and who have, for reasons to be explained presently, acquired exceptional powers. thus, a famous jurist, counselor hellfeld, in jena, was one evening on the point of signing the death warrant of a cavalry soldier. the subject had deeply agitated his mind for days, and before seizing his pen, he invoked, as was his custom in such cases, the "aid of the almighty through his holy spirit." at that moment--it was an hour before midnight--he hears heavy blows fall upon his window, which sound as if the panes were struck with a riding-whip. his clerk also hears the blows distinctly, and begins to tremble violently. this apparent accident induces the judge to delay his action; he devotes the next day to a careful re-perusal of the evidence, and is now led to the conviction that the crime deserves only a minor punishment. ere the year has closed, another criminal is caught, and volunteers the confession that he was the perpetrator of the crime for which the soldier was punished. in that solemn moment, it was, of course, only the judge's own mind, deeply moved and worn out by painful work, which warned him in a symbolic manner not to be precipitate, and the very fact that the blows sounded as if they had been produced by a whip proved his unconscious association of the noise with the cavalry soldier. and yet he and his clerk believed and solemnly affirmed, that they had heard the mysterious blows! this dualism, which, as it were, divides man into two beings, one of whom follows and watches the other, while both are unconscious of their identity, is the magic element in these phenomena. this unconsciousness, proving--as in dreams--the inactivity of our reason, produces the natural effect, that we fancy all ghostly appearances are foolish, wanton and wicked. the fact is, moreover that they almost always proceed from a more or less diseased or disturbed mind, and acquire importance only in so far as it is our duty here also to eliminate truth from error. thus only can we hope to counteract their mischievous tendency, and to prevent still stronger delusions from obtaining a mastery over weak minds. this is the purpose of a club formed in london in , the members of which find amusement and useful employment in investigating all cases of haunted houses and other ghostly appearances. that the belief in ghostly disturbances is not a modern error, we see from st. augustine, who already mentions the farm of a certain hasparius as disquieted by loud noises till the prayer of a pious priest restored peace. the catholic church has a st. cæsarius, who purified in like manner the house of the physician elpidius in ravenna, which was filled with evil spirits and only admitted the owner after he had passed through a shower of stones. another saint, hubertus, was himself annoyed by ghosts in his residence at camens, and never succeeded in obtaining peace till he died, in . wicked or interested men take, of course, but too readily advantage of the credulity of men and employ similar disturbances for personal purposes; such was the case with the ghosts that haunted the council house in constance and the palace at woodstock in cromwell's time. the case of a scrupulously conscientious protestant minister in germany, which created in a great excitement throughout the empire, is well calculated to show the real nature of a number of such ghostly disturbances. he had been called to the death-bed of a notorious sinner, a woman, who desired at the last moment to receive the comforts of religion. unfortunately he reached her house too late; she was already unconscious, and died in his presence, as he thought, unreconciled with her god and with himself, whom she had often insulted and cursed in life. deeply disturbed he returned home, and after having dwelt upon the painful subject with intense anxiety for several days he began to hear footsteps in his house. gradually they became more frequent; then he distinguished them clearly as a woman's step, and at last they were accompanied by the dragging of a gown. watches were set, sand was strewn, dogs were kept in the house--but all in vain; no trace of man was found, and still the sounds continued. the unhappy man prayed day and night, and the noise disappeared for a fortnight. when he ceased praying they returned, louder than ever. he sternly bids the ghost desist, and behold! the ghost obeys. when he asks if it is a good angel or a demon, no answer is given; but the question: art thou the devil? finds an immediate reply in rapid steps up and down the house--for the poor man's mind was filled with the idea that such things can be done only by the evil one. at last he summons all his remaining energy and in a tone of command he orders the ghost to depart and never to reappear. from that moment all disturbances cease--and very naturally, for the haunted, disturbed man, had fully recovered the command over himself; the dualism that produced all the spectral phenomena had ceased, and the restored mind accomplished its own cure. as these phenomena are thus produced from within, it appears perfectly natural also that they should be reported as occurring most frequently in the month of november. religious minds and superstitious dispositions have brought this fact into a quaint connection with the approach of advent-time, but the cause is probably purely physical; the dark and dismal month with its dense fogs emblematic of coming winter predisposes the mind to gloomy thoughts and renders it less capable of resisting atmospheric influences. a very general belief ascribes such disturbances, under the name of "haunted houses," to the souls of deceased persons who can find no rest beyond the grave. the series of ghost stories based upon this supposition begins with the account of suetonius and continues unbroken to our day. then it was the spirit of caligula, which could not be quiet so long as his body, which had only been half burned, remained in that disgraceful condition. night after night his house and his garden were visited by strange apparitions, till the palace was destroyed by fire and the emperor's sisters rendered the last honors to his remains. thus the disposition of modern inquiries to trace back all popular accounts of great events, all familiar anecdotes and fairy tales, and even proverbs and maxims, to the ancients, has been fully gratified in this case also. they were not only known to antiquity, but formed a staple of popular tales. thus the younger pliny tells us one which he had frequently heard related. at athens there stood a large, comfortable mansion, which, however, was ill-reputed. night after night, it was said, chains were heard rattling, first at a distance, and then coming nearer, till a pale, haggard shape was seen approaching, wearing beard and hair in long dishevelled locks and clanking the chains it bore on hands and feet. the occupants of the house could not sleep, were terrified, sickened and died. thus it came about that the fine building stood empty, year after year, and was at last offered for sale at a low price. about that time the philosopher athenodorus came to athens and saw the notice; he had his suspicions aroused by the small sum demanded for the house, inquired about the causes and rented the house. for he was a man of courage and meant to fathom the mystery. on the evening of the first day he dismissed his servants and remained alone in the front room, writing and occupying himself, purposely, with grave and abstract questions, so as to allow no opening for his imagination. as soon as all was quiet around him the clanking and rattling of chains begins; but he pays no heed and continues to write. the noise approaches and enters the room; as he looks up he sees the well-known weird shape before him. it beckons him, but he demands patience and writes on as before; then the ghost shakes his chains over his head and beckons once more imperatively. now he rises, takes his lamp, and follows his visitor through the passages into a court-yard, where the ghost disappears. the philosopher pulls up some grass on the spot and marks the place. on the following day he appeals to the authorities to cause the place to be dug up; and when this is done, the bones of an old man, loaded with heavy chains, are found. from that time the house was left undisturbed, as if the departed had only desired to induce some intelligent person to bestow upon him the honors of a decent burial, which among the ancients were held all-important. ("letter to sera," l. vii. .) the story told by lucian ("philopseudes," xxx.) is almost identical with that of pliny. here, also, a house in corinth, once belonging to eubatides, was left unoccupied, for the same reasons, and began to decay, when the pythagorean, arignotus, determined to ascertain the reality of these nightly appearances. he goes there after midnight, places his lamp on the floor, lies down and begins to read. soon a horrible monster appears, black as night, and changes from one disgusting beast into another, till at last it yields to the stern command of the intrepid philosopher and disappears in a corner of the large room. when day breaks, workmen are brought in to take up the floor; a skeleton is found and decently interred, and from that day the house is left to its usual peace and quiet. ("epist." l. vii. .) plutarch, also, in his "life of cimon," states that the baths at chæronea were haunted by the ghost of damon, who had there found his death; the doors were walled up and the place forsaken, but up to his day no relief had been devised, and fearful sights and terrible sounds continued to render the place uninhabitable. nor are eastern lands unacquainted with this popular belief. egypt has its haunted houses in nearly every village, and in cairo there are a great number, while in tunis whole streets were abandoned to ghostly occupants. in nankin a great mandarin owned a spacious building which he could neither occupy himself nor rent to others, because of its evil reputation. at last the jesuit riccius, a missionary, offered to take it for his order; the fathers moved into it, conquered the ghosts by some means best known to themselves, and not only obtained a good house but great prestige with the natives for their triumph over the spirits (c. hasart. _hist. eccles. sinica_, p. , ch. iii.). the same singular belief is not only met with in every age and among the most enlightened nations, but even in our own century a similar case occurred and is well authenticated. the duke charles alexander of würtemberg of unholy memory, died at the town of ludwigsburg, perhaps by murder. for years afterwards the palace was the scene of most violent disturbances; even the sentinels, powerful and well-armed men, were bodily lifted up and thrown across the parapet of the terrace. at other times the whole building appeared to be filled with people; doors were opened and closed, lights were seen in the apartments and dim figures flitted to and fro. large detachments of troops under the command of officers, specially selected for the purpose, were ordered to march through the palace more than once, on such occasions, but never discovered a trace of human agency (kerner. _bilder._ p. ). even the great frederick of prussia, a man whose thoroughly skeptical mind might surely be supposed to have been free from all superstition, was once forced to admit his inability to explain by natural causes an occurrence of the kind. a catholic priest in silesia lost his cook, who had been specially dear to him; her ghost--as it was called--continued to haunt the house, and, most strange of all, not in order to disturb its peace, but to perform the usual domestic service. the floors were swept, the fires made, and linen washed, all by invisible hands. frederick, who accidentally heard of the matter, ordered a captain and a lieutenant of his guard to investigate it; they were received by the beating of drums and then allowed to witness the same household performances. when the grim old captain broke out in a fearful curse, he received a severe box on the ears and retreated utterly discomfited. upon his report to the king the house was pulled down and a new parsonage erected at some distance from the place. the occurrence is mentioned in many historical works and quoted without comment even by the great historian menzel. another striking case of a somewhat different character, was fully reported to the colonial office in london. the scene was a large vault in the island of barbadoes, hewn out of the live rock and accessible only through a huge iron door, fastened in the usual way by strong bolts and a lock, the key to which was kept at the government house. during the year it was opened four times for purposes of interment, and each time it was observed that all the coffins in the vault had been violently thrown about. the governor, lord combermere, went himself, accompanied by his staff and a number of officers, to examine the place, and found the vault itself in perfect order and without a trace of violence. he ordered the door to be closed with cement and placed his seal upon the latter, an example followed by nearly all the bystanders. eight months later, the th of april, , he had the vault opened in the presence of a large company of friends and within sight of a crowd of several thousands. the cement and the seals were found to be perfect and uninjured; the sand which had been carefully strewn over the floor of the vault showed no footmark or sign whatever, but the coffins were again thrown about in great confusion. one, of such weight that it required eight men to move it, was found standing upright, and a child's coffin had been violently dashed against the wall. a carefully drawn up report with accompanying drawings was sent home, but no explanation has ever been discovered. scientific men were disposed to ascribe the disturbance to earthquakes, but the annals of the island report none during those years; there remains, however, the possibility that the examination of the vault was after all imperfect, and that the sea might have had access to it through some hidden cleft. in that case an unusually high tide might very well have been the invisible agent. even the indian of our far west cherishes the same superstitious belief, and in his lodge on the slopes of the rocky mountains, he hears mysterious knockings. to him they are the kindly warning of a spirit, whom he calls the great bear, which announces some great calamity. that certain localities seem to be frequented by ghosts, that is, to be haunted, with special preference, must be ascribed to the contagious nature of such mental affections as generally produce these phenomena. this is, moreover, by no means limited, as is commonly believed, to northern regions, where frequent fogs and dense mists, short days and long nights, together with sombre surroundings and awe-inspiring sounds in nature, combine to predispose the mind to expect supernatural appearances. thus, for instance, fair suabia, one of the most favored portions of germany, sweet and smiling in its fertile plains, and by no means specially gruesome, even in the most secluded parts of the black forest, teems with haunted localities. dr. kerner's home, weinsberg, enjoyed ghostly visits almost in every house; the neighborhood was similarly favored, and even in the open country there are countless peasants' cottages and noblemen's seats, which are frequented by ghosts. one of the most attractive estates in würtemberg was purchased in by a distinguished soldier, whose dauntless courage had caused him to rise rapidly from grade to grade under the eye of the great napoleon. soon after his arrival his wife was aroused every night by a variety of mysterious noises, rising from weird, low whinings to terrific explosions. the colonel also heard them, and tried his best to ascertain the cause. night after night, moreover, the great castle clock, which went perfectly well all day long, struck at wrong hours, and was found all wrong in the morning. the disturbing powers soon became personal; for one night, when the colonel, sitting at the supper table, and hearing the usual sounds, said angrily, "i wish the ghost would make himself known!" a fearful explosion took place, knocking down the speaker and bringing all the inmates of the house to the room. search was immediately instituted, and the main weight of the great clock was discovered to be missing. a new weight had to be ordered, and only long afterwards the old one was found wedged in between two floors above the clock. nor were the disturbances confined to the castle: at midnight the horses in the stable became restless and almost wild, tearing themselves loose and sweating till they were covered with white foam. one night the colonel went to the stable, mounted his favorite charger, who had borne him in the din and roar of many a battle, and awaited the striking of midnight. instantly the poor animal began to tremble, then to rear and kick furiously, until his master, famous as a good horseman, could hold him in no longer, and was carried around the stable by the maddened horse so as to imperil his life. after an hour, the poor creatures began to calm down, but stood trembling in all their limbs; the colonel's own horse succumbed to the trial and died in the morning. a new stable had to be built, which remained free from disturbances. by far the most remarkable and, strange enough, at the same time the best authenticated of all accounts of disturbances caused by recently departed friends is found in a memoir written by the sufferer herself, and addressed to the famous baron grimm under the pseudonym of mr. meis. through the latter the story reached goethe, who at once appropriated it in all its details, and merely changing the name of the principal to antonelli, inserted it in his "conversations of german emigrants." the same event is fully related in the "memoirs of the margravine of anspach" as "a story which at that time created a great sensation in paris, and excited universal curiosity." but even greater authority yet is given to this account by the fact that it was officially recorded in the police reports of paris, from which it has been frequently extracted for publication. mdlle. hippolyte clairon makes substantially the following statements: "in the year my youth and my success on the stage procured for me much attention from young fops and elderly profligates, among whom, however, i found frequently a few better men. one of these, who made a deep impression upon me, was a mr. s., the son of a merchant from brittany, about thirty years old, fair of features, well made, and gifted with some talent for poetry. his conversation and his manners showed that he had received a superior education, and that he was accustomed to good society, while his reserve and bashfulness, which prevented him from allowing his attachment to be seen, made him all the dearer to me. when i had ascertained his discretion, i permitted him to visit me, and gave him to understand that he might call himself my friend. he took this patiently, seeing that i was still free and not without tender feelings, and hoping that time might inspire me with a warmer affection. who knows what might have happened! but i used to question him closely, both from curiosity and from prudence, and his candid answers destroyed his prospects; for he confessed that, dissatisfied with his modest station in life, he had sold his property in order to live in paris in better society, and i did not like this. men who are ashamed of themselves are not, it seems to me, calculated to inspire others with respect. besides, he was of a melancholy and dissatisfied temper, knowing men too well, as he said, not to despise and avoid them. he intended to visit no one but myself, and to induce me also to see no one but him. you may imagine how i disliked such ideas. i might have been held by garlands, but did not wish to be bound with chains. from that moment i saw that i must disappoint his hopes, and gradually withdrew from his society. this caused him a severe illness, during which i showed him all possible attention. but my steady refusal to do more for him only deepened the wound, and at the same time the poor young man had the misfortune of being stripped of nearly all his property by his faithless brother, to whom he had intrusted the sale of all he owned, so that he saw himself compelled to accept small sums from me for the payment of his daily food and the necessary medicines. "at last he recovered part of his property, but his health was ruined; and as i thought i was rendering him a real service by widening the distance between us, i refused henceforth to receive his letters and his visits. "thus matters went on for two years and a half, when he died. he had sent for me, wishing to enjoy the happiness of seeing me once more in his last moments, but my friends would not allow me to go. he had no one near him except his servants and an old lady, who had of late been his only companion. our lodgings were far apart: his near the chaussée-d'antin, where only a few houses had as yet been built, and mine near the abbey of st. martin. my daily guests were an agent, who attended to all my professional duties, mr. pipelet, well known and beloved by all who knew him, and rosely, one of my fellow-comedians, a kind young man full of wit and talent. we had modest little suppers, but we were merry and enjoyed ourselves heartily. one evening i had just been singing several pretty airs which seemed to delight my friends, when the clock struck eleven, and at the same moment an extremely sharp cry was heard. its plaintive sound and long duration amazed everybody; i fainted away and remained for nearly a quarter of an hour unconscious. "my agent was in love with me and so mad with jealousy that when i recovered, he overwhelmed me with reproaches, and said the signals for my interview were rather loud. i told him that as i had the right to receive when and whom i chose, no signals were needed, and this cry had surely been heart-rending enough to convince him that it announced no sweet moments. my paleness, my tremor, which lasted for some time, my tears flowing silently and almost unconsciously, and my urgent request that somebody would stay up with me during the night, all these signs convinced him of my innocence. my friends remained with me, discussing the fearful cry, and determining finally to station guards around the house. "nevertheless the dread sound was repeated night after night; my friends, all the neighbors, and even the policemen who were stationed near us, heard it distinctly; it seemed to be uttered immediately under my window, where nothing could ever be seen. there was no doubt entertained as to the person for whom it was intended, for whenever i supped out, no cry was heard; but frequently after my return, when i entered my room and inquired about it of my mother and my servants, it suddenly pierced the air anew. once the president of the court, at whose house i had been entertained, proposed to see me home in safety; at the moment when he wished me good-night at the door, the cry was heard right between us, and the poor man had to be lifted into his carriage more dead than alive. "another time my young companion, rosely, a clever, witty man, who believed in nothing in heaven or on earth, was riding with me in my carriage on our way to a friend who lived in a distant part of the city. we were discussing the fearful torment to which i was exposed, and he, laughing at me, at last declared he would never believe it unless he heard it with his own ears, and defied me to summon my lover. i do not know how i came to yield, but instantly the cry was repeated three times, and with overwhelming fierceness. when our carriage reached the house, the servants found us both lying unconscious on the cushions, and had to summon assistance before we recovered. after this i heard nothing for several months, and began to hope that all was over. but i was sadly mistaken. "the members of the king's troop of comedians had all been ordered to appear at versailles, in honor of the dauphin's marriage, and as we were to spend three days there, lodgings had been provided. it so happened, however, that a friend of mine, mme. grandval, had been forgotten, and seeing her trouble, i at last offered her, towards three o'clock in the morning, to share my room, in which there were two beds. this forced me to take my maid into my own bed, and as she was in the act of coming, i said to her: 'here we are at the end of the world, the weather is abominable, and the cry would find it hard to follow us here!' at that moment it resounded close to us; mme. grandval jumped up terribly frightened, and ran through the whole house, waking everybody, and keeping us all in such a state of excitement that not an eye was closed the whole night. seven or eight days later, as i was chatting merrily with a number of friends, at the striking of the hour, a shot was heard, coming apparently through my window. we all heard it and saw the fire, but the pane was not broken. everybody thought at once of an attempt to murder me, and some friends hastened instantly to the chief of police. men were immediately sent to search the houses opposite, and for several days and nights the street was strictly guarded by a number of soldiers; my own house was searched from roof to cellar, and friends came in large companies to assist in watchings: nevertheless, the shot fell night after night at the same hour, for three months, with unfailing accuracy. no clue was found and no sign was seen save the sound of the shot and the sight of the fire. daily reports of the occurrence were sent to the headquarters of the police, new measures were continually devised and applied, but the authorities were baffled as well as all who tried to fathom the mystery. i became at last quite accustomed to the disturbance, and was in the habit of speaking of it as the doing of a _bon diable_, because he contented himself so long a time with jugglers' tricks; but one night as i had stepped through the open window out upon a balcony, and was standing there with my agent by my side, the shot suddenly fell again and knocked us both back into the room, where we fell down as if dead. when we recovered our consciousness, we got up, and after some hesitation, confessed to each other that our ears had been severely boxed, his on the right side and mine on the left, whereupon we gave way to hearty laughter. the next night was quiet, but on the following day i was riding with my maid to a friend's house, where i had been invited to meet some acquaintances. as we passed through a certain part of the city, i recognized the houses in the bright moonlight, and said jestingly: 'this looks very much like the part of town where poor s. used to live.' at the same moment a near church clock struck eleven, and instantly a shot was fired at us from one of the buildings, which seemed to pass through our carriage. the coachman thought we had been attacked by robbers, and whipped his horses to escape; i knew what it meant, but still felt thoroughly frightened, and reached the house in a state little suited for social enjoyment. this was, however, the last time my unfortunate friend used a gun. "in place of the firing there came now a loud clapping of hands, with certain modulations and repetitions. this sound, to which i had become accustomed on the stage by the kindness of my friends, did not disturb me as much as my companions. they would station themselves around my door and under my window; they heard it distinctly, but could not see a trace of any person. i do not remember how long this continued; but it was followed by the singing of a sweet, almost heavenly melody, which began at the upper end of the street and gradually swelled till it reached my house, where it slowly expired. then the disturbance ceased altogether. "the only light that was ever thrown upon the mystery came from an old lady who called on me on the pretext of wishing to see my house which i had offered for rent. i was very much struck by her venerable appearance and her evident emotion. i offered her a chair and sat down opposite to her, but was for some time unable to say a word. at last she seemed to gather courage and told me that she had long wished to make my acquaintance, but had not dared to come so long as i was constantly surrounded by hosts of friends and admirers. at last she had happened to see my advertisement and availed herself of the opportunity in order to see me--and to visit my house, which had a deep though melancholy interest in her eyes. i guessed at once that she was the faithful friend who alone remained by the bedside of poor s., when he was prostrated by a fatal disease and refused to see anybody else. for months, she now told me, he had spoken of nothing save of myself, looking upon me now as an angel and now as a demon, but utterly unable to keep his thoughts from dwelling uninterruptedly upon the one subject which filled his mind and his heart alike. i tried to explain to the old lady how i had fully appreciated his good qualities and noble impulses, finding it, however, impossible to fall in with his peculiar views of society and to promise, as he insisted i should do, to forsake all i loved for the purpose of living with him in loneliness and complete retirement. i told her, also, that when he sent for me to see him in his last moments, my friends prevented my going, and that i felt myself that the sight of his death under such circumstances would have been dangerous in the extreme to my peace of mind, besides being utterly useless to the dying man. she admitted the force of my reasoning, but repeated that my refusal had hastened his end and deprived him at the last moment of all self-control. in this state of mind, when a few minutes before eleven, the servant had entered and assured him in answer to his passionate inquiry, that no one had come, he had exclaimed: 'the heartless woman! she shall gain nothing by her cruelty, for i will pursue her after death as i have pursued her during life!' and with these words on his lips he had expired." the impression produced by this thoroughly authenticated recital is a strong argument in favor of a continued connection after death of the human soul with the world in which we live. there was a man whose whole existence was absorbed by one great and all-pervading passion; it brought ruin to his body and disabled his mind from correcting the vagaries of his fancy. he died in this state, with a sense of grievous wrong and intense thirst of revenge uppermost in his mind. then follow a number of magic phenomena, witnessed, for several years, by thousands of attached friends and curious observers, defying the vigilance of soldiers and the acuteness of police agents. these disturbances, at first bearing the stamp of willful annoyance, gradually assume a milder form, as if expressive of softening indignation; they become weaker and less frequent, and finally cease altogether, suggestive of the peace which the poor erring soul had at last found, by infinite mercy and goodness, when safely entering the desired haven. on the other hand--for contrasts meet here as well as elsewhere--these phenomena have been frequently ascribed to purely physical causes, and in a number of cases the final explanation has confirmed this suggestion. a hypochondriac artist, for instance, was nightly disturbed by a low but furious knocking in his bed, which was heard by others as well as by himself. he prayed, he caused priests to come to his bedside, he had masses read in his behalf, but all remained in vain. then came a plain, sensible friend, who, half in jest and half in earnest, covered his big toe with a brass wire which he dipped into an alkaline solution, and behold, the knockings ceased and never returned! (dupotel, "animal magn.") in another case a somnambulistic woman frightened herself as well as others by most violent knockings whenever she was disappointed or thwarted; her physician, suspecting the cause, finally gave her antispasmodic remedies, and it soon appeared that in her nervous spasms the muscles had been vibrating forcibly enough to produce these disturbances. since these discoveries it has been found that almost anybody may produce such knockings--which stand in a suspicious relationship to spirit-rappings--by exerting certain muscles of the leg; some men, who have practised this trick for scientific purposes, like professor schiff, of florence, are able to imitate almost all the various knockings generally ascribed to ghosts and spirits. the public performances of mr. chauncey burr, in new york, gave very striking illustrations of this power, and a mr. shadrach barnes rapped with his toes to perfection. in a large number of cases such phenomena appear in connection with persons who suffer of some nervous disease, and then the knockings are, of course, produced unconsciously, and may be accompanied by evidences of exceptional powers. it need not be added, however, that the two symptoms are not necessarily of the same nature; generally the mechanical knockings precede the development of ecstatic visions. a girl of eleven years, the child of humble alsatian parents, presented, in , this succession of symptoms very strikingly. the child had a habit of falling asleep at all hours; at once mysterious knockings began to perform a dance or a march, and continued daily for more than an hour. after some time the poor girl began, also, to talk in her sleep, and to converse with the knocking agent. she would order him to beat a tattoo, or to play a quickstep, and immediately it was done. the directions of bystanders, even when not uttered but merely formed earnestly in their mind, were obeyed in like manner. finally the child, getting no doubt worse and unmercifully excited by the crowds of curious people who thronged the house, began to admonish her audience, and to preach and pray; during these exhortations no knockings were heard, but she became clairvoyant and recognized all the persons present, even with her eyes closed. she fancied that a black man with a red shawl produced the knockings and delivered the speeches. her clairvoyance became at last so striking that her case excited the deepest interest of persons in high social position, and several physicians examined it with great care. her disease was declared to be neurosis coeliaca ("magicon," v. ). a very peculiar and utterly inexplicable phenomenon belonging to this class of ghostly appearances is the complete removal of persons by an unseen power. the idea of such occurrences must have been current among the jews, for when "there appeared a chariot of fire and horses of fire ... and elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven" (ii. kings ii. ), the sons of the prophets did not at once resign themselves, but sent fifty strong men to seek him, "lest peradventure the spirit of the lord hath taken him up and cast him upon some mountain or into some valley" (v. ). in the new testament the same mysterious removal is mentioned in the case of philip, after his interview with the ethiopian, whom he baptized. "the spirit of the lord caught away philip, that the eunuch saw him no more," and "philip was found at azotus" (acts viii. , ). what in these cases was done by divine power, is said to be occasionally the work of an unknown and unseen force. generally, no doubt, men or children lose themselves by accident, either when they are already from illness or other cause in a state of semi-consciousness, or when they become so bewildered and frightened by the accident itself, that they fancy they must have been carried away by a mysterious power. the best authenticated case is reported in beaumont (p. ). an irish steward, crossing a field, saw in it a large company feasting, and was invited to join their meal. one of them, however, warned him in a whisper not to accept anything that should be offered. upon his refusal to eat, the table vanished and the men were seen dancing to a merry music. he was again invited to join, and when he refused, all disappeared, and he found himself alone. he hurried home thoroughly terrified, and fainted away in his room. during the night he dreamt--or really saw--that one of the mysterious company appeared at his bedside and announced to him that if he dare leave the house on the following day, he would be carried away. he remained at home till the evening, when, thinking himself safe, he stepped across the threshold. instantly his companions saw him, with a rope around his body, hurried away so fast that they could not follow. at last they meet a horseman whom they request by signs to arrest the unhappy victim; he seizes the rope and receives a smart blow, but rescues the steward. lord orrery desired to see the man, and when the latter presented himself before the earl, he reported that another nightly visitor had threatened him as before. he was, thereupon, placed in a large room under the guard of several stout men; a number of distinguished persons, two bishops among them, went constantly in and out. in the afternoon he was suddenly lifted into the air; a famous boxer, greatrix, who had been specially engaged to guard him, and another powerful man, seized him by the shoulders, but he was dragged from their grasp and for some time carried about high above their heads, till at last he fell into the arms of some of his keepers. during the night the same apparition stood once more by his bed-side, inviting him to drink of a gray porridge, which would cure him of all ills and protect him against further violence. he suffered himself to be persuaded, when the visitor made himself known as a former friend who had to attend those mysterious meetings in punishment of the dissolute life he had led upon earth, and who now wished to save another unhappy fellow-being from a like sad fate. at the same time he reminded him of his neglect to pray, and then disappeared. the steward speedily recovered from his fright, and was no further molested. there can be little doubt that the man was ill at ease in body and in conscience, and that this double burden was too heavy to bear for his mind; his thoughts became disordered, till he felt an apparently external power stronger than his own will, and thus not only imagined strange visions, but actually obeyed erratic impulses of his diseased mind, as if they were acts of violence from without. a favorite pastime of these pseudo-ghosts is the throwing of stones at the buildings or even into the rooms of those whom they wish to annoy. good cotton mather loved to tell stories of such perverse proceedings, and states at length the sufferings of george walton, at portsmouth, in . invisible hands threw such a hailstorm of stones against his house, that the door was burst open, although the inhabitants, when hit by the stones, only felt a slight touch. then the stones began to fly about inside, and to destroy the window-panes from within; when picked up by some of the witnesses, they proved to be burning hot; they were marked and placed upon a table, whereupon they commenced to fly about once more. it is characteristic of the whole proceeding that the only person really injured by the operation was the owner of the house, a quaker! the learned author delights also in recitals of children who were plagued by evil spirits, having forks and knives, pins and sharp scissors stuck into their backs, and whose food, at the moment when it was to be carried from the plate to the mouth, flew away, leaving yarn, ashes, and vile things to reach the palate! at other times the disturbance assumes a somewhat more dignified form, and appears as the ringing of bells. thus baxter tells us of a house at colne priory, in essex, where, for a time, every morning at two o'clock a large bell was heard, while in the parish of wilcot, a smaller bell waked the vicar night after night with its tinkling, and yet could not be heard outside of the dwelling. physicians know very well how readily the pressure of blood to certain vessels in the head produces the impression of the ringing of bells, and experience tells us how easily men are made to believe that they see or hear what others assure them is seen or heard by everybody. even the great john wesley seems not to have been fully convinced of the purely natural character of such disturbances, when they annoyed his venerable father at epworth rectory; and dr. priestley, a calm and cautious writer, says of these phenomena: "it is perhaps the best-authenticated and the best-told story of the kind that is anywhere extant, on which account, and to exercise the ingenuity of some speculative person, i thought it not undeserved of being published." it seems that in the rectory became the scene of strange disturbances, which were at first ascribed to one of the minister's enemies, jeffrey. the inmates heard an incessant walking about, sighing and groaning, cackling and crowing; a hand-mill was set whirling around by invisible hands, and the amen! with which wesley's father ended the family prayer was accompanied by a noise like thunder. even the faithful watchdog was disturbed and his instinct overawed, for he sought refuge with men, and barked furiously, till his excitement rose to a state resembling madness, he even anticipated the coming of the disturbance, and announced it by his intense agitation. the subject is one of extreme difficulty because of the large number of cases in which all such disturbances have been clearly traced to the agency of dissatisfied servants, hidden enemies, or envious neighbors, whose sole purpose was a desire to drive the occupant from his house, or to diminish its value. it is characteristic of human nature that the cunning and the skill displayed on such occasions even by ignorant servants and awkward rustics are perfectly amazing, a fact which proves anew the assertion of old divines, that the devil is vastly better served than the lord of heaven. even the best authenticated case of such mysterious disturbances, kerner's so-called seeress of prevorst, is not entirely free from all suspicion. mrs. hauffe, a lady of delicate health, great nervous irritability, and a mind which was, to say the least, not too well balanced, became the patient of dr. justinus kerner, in southern germany. besides her mysterious power to reveal unknown things, to read the future, and to prescribe for herself and others, of which mention has been made before; she was also pursued by every variety of strange noises. plates and glasses, tables and chairs were violently thrown about in the house in which she lived; a medicine phial rose slowly into the air and had to be brought back by one of the bystanders, and an easy-chair was lifted up to the ceiling, but came down again quite gently. the suffering woman was the only one who knew the cause of these phenomena; she ascribed them all to a dark spirit, belon's companion, who appeared to her as a black column of smoke, with a hideous head, and whose approach oppressed even some of the bystanders--especially the patient's sister. he was not content with disturbing mrs. hauffe only, but carried his wantonness even into the homes of distant friends and kinsmen. a pious minister, who frequently visited the poor sufferer, was contagiously affected by the ill-fated atmosphere of her house; night after night he was waked up, by a "bright spirit," who coughed and sighed and sobbed in his presence, till a fervent prayer drove him away; if the poor divine, however, prayed only faintly or entertained doubts in his heart, the spirit mocked him with increased energy. later even the minister's wife succumbed, saw the same luminous appearances and heard the same mysterious noises, till the whole matter was suddenly brought to an end by an amulet! to this class of occurrences belongs also the experience of the rev. dr. phelps of stratford, connecticut. one fine day he found, upon returning from church, that all the doors of his house, which he had carefully locked, were open and everything in the lower rooms in a state of boundless confusion. nothing, however, had been stolen. in the upper story a room was found to be occupied by eight or ten persons diligently reading in an open bible, which each one held close to his face. upon examination these readers were discovered to be bundles of clothes carefully and most cunningly arranged so as to represent living beings. everything was cleared away and the room was locked; but in three minutes, the clothing, which had been put aside, disappeared, and when the door was opened the same scene was presented. for seven long months the house was haunted by most extraordinary phenomena; noises of every kind were heard by day as well as by night; utensils and window-panes were broken before the eyes of numerous witnesses by invisible hands, and the son of the house, eleven years old, was bodily lifted up and carried away to some distance. the most searching inquiry led to no result, until at last dr. phelps, almost in despair, applied to some spiritualists, and in consequence of the hints he received was enabled to bring the disturbances to a speedy end (_rechenberg_, p. ). stone-throwing seems to be a favorite amusement with eastern ghosts also; at least we are told that it is quite frequent in the western part of the island of java, where the sunda people live amid gigantic mountains and still active volcanoes. they believe in good and evil spirits, and are firmly convinced that constant intercourse is kept up between earth-born men and heavenly beings. the whole indian archipelago is filled with the latter, and hence, the throwing of stones, sand and gravel, by invisible hands, has a name of its own, it is called gundarua. some thirty years ago, a german happened to be assistant-resident at sumadang, in the service of the dutch government. his wife had taken a fancy to a native child ten years old, who was allowed to go in and out the house at will. one morning during the german's absence, the child's white dress was found to be soiled all over with red betel-juice, and at the moment when her patroness made this discovery, a stone fell apparently from the ceiling, at her feet. the same phenomenon was repeated over and over again, till the lady, in her distress, appealed to a neighboring native sovereign, who promised his assistance. he sent immediately a large force of armed men, who surrounded the house and watched the room; nevertheless, the red spots reappeared and stones fell as before. towards evening, a mohammedan mufti, of high rank, was sent for; but he had scarcely opened his koran, to read certain sentences for the purpose of exorcising the demons, when the sacred book was hurled to one side and the lamp to another. the lady took the child to the prince's residence to spend the night there, and no disturbance occurred. but when her husband, for whom swift messengers had been sent out, returned on the following day, the same trouble occurred; the child was spit at with betel-juice and stones kept falling from on high. soon the report reached the governor-general at breitenzorg, who thereupon sent a man of great military renown, a major michiels, to investigate the matter. once more the house was surrounded by an armed force, even the neighboring trees were carefully guarded, and the major took the little girl upon his knees. in spite of all these precautions, her dress was soon covered with red spots, and stones flew about as before. no one, however, was injured. they were gathered up, proved to be wet or hot, as if just picked up in the road, and at night filled a huge box. the same process continued, when a huge sheet of linen had been stretched from wall to wall, so as to form an inner ceiling under the real ceiling; and now not only stones, but also fruit from the surrounding trees, freshly gathered, and mortar from the kitchen fell into the newly formed tent. at the same time the furniture was repeatedly disturbed, tumblers and wineglasses tossed about, and marks left on the large mirror as if a moist hand had been passed over the surface. the marvelous occurrences were duly reported to the home government, and the king, william ii., ordered that no pains should be spared to clear up the matter. but no explanation was ever obtained; only the fact was ascertained that similar phenomena had been repeatedly observed in other parts of the island also, and were considered quite ordinary occurrences by the natives. certain families, it may be added, claim to have inherited from their ancestors the power to make themselves invisible, a gift which is almost invariably accompanied by the gundarua; as these native families gradually die out, the symptoms of the latter also disappear more and more. there is no doubt that here, as in the russian _poganne_ (cursed places which are haunted by ghosts), the belief in such appearances, bequeathed through long ages from father to son, has finally obtained a force which renders it equal to reality itself. reason is not only biased, but actually held bound; the mind is wrought up to a state of excitement in which it ceases to see clearly, and finally visions assume an overwhelming force, which ends in symptoms of what is called magic. the same law applies, for instance, to the ancient home of charmers and magicians, the land of the nile, where also the studies of the ancient magi have been assumed by a succession of learned men, till they were taken up by fanatic mohammedans, whose creed arranges invisible beings, angels, demons, and others, in regular order, and assigns them a home in distinct parts of the universe. it is not without interest to observe that even europeans, after a long residence in the orient, become deeply imbued with such notions, and men like bayle st. john, in his account of magic performances which he witnessed, do not seem able to remain altogether impartial. one of the most remarkable phenomena belonging to this branch of magic is the appearance of living or recently deceased persons to friends or supplicants. the peculiarity in this case consists in the constantly changing character of the appearance: the double--as it is called--is the vision of the dying man, which appears to others or to his own senses. the former class of cases was well known in antiquity, for pythagoras already had, according to popular report, appeared to numerous friends before he died. herodotus and maximus tyrius state both, that aristæus sent his spirit into different lands to acquire knowledge, and epimenides and hernestinus, from claromenæ, were popularly believed to be able to visit, when in a state of ecstasy, all distant countries, and to return at pleasure. st. augustine, also, states ("sermon," ) that he, himself, had appeared to two persons who had known him only by reputation, and advised them to go to hippons in order to obtain their health there by the intercession of st. stephen. they really went to the place and recovered from their disease. at another time his form appeared to a famous teacher of eloquence in carthage and explained to him several most difficult passages in cicero's writings (_de cura pro mortuis_, ch. ii). the saints of the catholic church having possessed the gift of being in several places at once, apparently so very generally, that the miracle has lost its interest, except where peculiar circumstances seem to suggest the true explanation. such was, for instance, the last-mentioned case, recited by st. augustine (_de civ. dei._ l. . ch. ). præstantius requested a philosopher to solve to him some doubts, but received no answer. the following night, however, when præstantius lay awake, troubled by his difficulties, he suddenly saw his learned friend standing by his bedside and heard from his lips all he desired to know. upon meeting him next day, he inquired why he had been unwilling to explain the matter in the daytime, and thus caused himself the trouble of coming at midnight to his house. "i never came to your house," was the reply, "but i dreamt that i did." here was very evidently a case of magic activity on the part of the philosopher, whose mind was, in his sleep, busily engaged in solving the propounded mystery and thus affected not himself only, but his absent friend likewise. the story of dr. donne's vision is well known, and deserves all the more serious attention as his candor was above suspicion, and his judgment held in the highest esteem. he formed part of an embassy sent to henry iv. of france, and had been two days in paris, thinking constantly and anxiously of his wife, whom he had left ill in london. towards noon he suddenly fell into a kind of trance, and when he recovered his senses related to his friends that he had seen his beloved wife pass him twice, as she walked across the room, her hair dishevelled and her child dead in her arms. when she passed him the second time, she looked sadly into his face and then disappeared. his fears were aroused to such a degree by this vision that he immediately dispatched a special messenger to england, and twelve days later he received the afflicting news that on that day and at that hour his wife had, after great and protracted suffering, been delivered of a still-born infant (beaumont, p. ). in macnish's excellent work on "sleep," we find (p. ) the following account: "a mr. h. went one day, apparently in the enjoyment of full health, down the street, when he saw a friend of his, mr. c., who was walking before him. he called his name aloud, but the latter pretended not to hear him, and steadily walked on. h. hastened his steps to overtake him, but his friend also hurried on, and thus remained at the same distance from him; thus the two walked for some time, till suddenly mr. c. entered a gateway, and when mr. h. was about to follow, slammed the door violently in his face. perfectly amazed at such unusual conduct, mr. h. opened the door and looked down the long passage, upon which it opened, but saw no one. determined to solve the mystery, he hurried to his friend's house, and there, to his great astonishment, learnt that mr. c. had been confined to his bed for some days. it was not until several weeks later that the two friends met at the house of a common acquaintance; mr. h. told mr. c. of his adventure, and added laughingly, that having seen his double, he was afraid mr. c. would not live long. these words were received by all with hearty laughter; but only a few days after this meeting the unfortunate friend was seized with a violent illness, to which he speedily succumbed." what is most remarkable, however, is that mr. h. also followed him, quite unexpectedly, soon to the grave. whatever may have been the nature of the event itself, it cannot be doubted that the minds of both friends were far more deeply impressed by its mysteriousness than they would probably have been willing to acknowledge to themselves, and that the nervous excitement thus produced brought out an illness lurking already in their system, and rendered it fatal. a very remarkable case was that of a distinguished diplomat, related by a. moritz in his "psychology." he was lying in bed, sleepless, when he noticed his pet dog becoming restless, and apparently disturbed to the utmost by a rustling and whisking about in the room, which he heard but could not explain. suddenly a kind of white vapor rose by his bed-side, and gradually assumed the outline and even the features of his mother; he especially noticed a purple ribbon in her cap. he jumped out of bed and endeavored to embrace her, but she fled before him and as suddenly vanished, leaving a bright glare at the place where she had disappeared. it was found, afterwards, that at that hour-- o'clock a. m.--the old lady had been ill unto death, lying still and almost breathless on her couch; she had felt the anguish of death in her heart, and had thought so anxiously of her son and her sister, that her first question when she recovered was, whether she had not perhaps been visited by the two persons who had thus occupied her whole mind. it was also ascertained that, contrary to a life's habit, she had on that day worn a purple ribbon in her night-cap. a german professor once succeeded in establishing the connection which undoubtedly exists between the will of certain persons and their appearance to others. he had only been married a year in , when he was compelled to leave his wife and to undertake a long and perilous journey. once, sitting in a peculiarly sad and dejected mood alone in a room of his hotel, he longed so ardently for the society of his wife, that he felt in his heart as if, by a great effort of will, he should be able to see her. he made the effort, and, behold! he saw her sitting at her work-table, busily engaged in sewing, and himself, as was his habit, on a low foot-stool by her side. she tried to conceal her work from his eyes. a few days later a messenger reached him, sent by his wife, who was in great consternation and anxiety. on that day she also had suddenly seen her husband seated by her side, attentively watching her at work, and continuing there till her father entered the room, upon which the professor had instantly disappeared. when he returned to his house he made minute inquiries as to the work he had seen in the hands of his wife, and this was of such peculiar character as to exclude all ideas of a mere dream on his part. here also the supreme will of the professor must have endowed him for the moment with exceptional powers, enabling him to make himself visible to his wife, while the latter, with the ardent love which bound her to her husband, was at the same moment sympathetically excited, and thus enabled to second his will, and to behold him as she was accustomed to see him most frequently. owen in his "footfalls on the boundary of another world," reports fully a remarkable case here repeated only in outline. robert bruce, thirty years old, served as mate on board a merchant vessel on the line between liverpool and st. john in new brunswick. when the ship was near the banks he was one day about noon busy calculating the longitude, and thinking that the captain was in his cabin--the next to his own--he called out to him: how have you found it? looking back over his shoulder, he saw the captain writing busily at his desk, and as he heard no answer, he went in and repeated his question. to his horror the man at the desk raised his head and revealed to him the face of an entire stranger, who regarded him fixedly. in a state of great excitement he rushed to the upper deck, where he found the captain and told him what had occurred. thereupon both went down; there was no one in the cabin, but on the captain's slate an unknown hand had written these words: steer nw.! no effort was spared to solve the mystery; the whole vessel was searched from end to end, but no stranger was discovered; even the handwriting of every member of the crew was examined, but nothing found resembling in the least degree the mysterious warning. after some hesitation the captain decided, as nothing was likely to be lost by so doing, to obey the behest and ordered the helmsman to steer northwest. a few hours later they encountered the wreck of a vessel fastened to an iceberg, with a large crew and a number of passengers, in expectation of certain death. when the unfortunate men were brought back by the ship's boats, bruce suddenly started in utter amazement, for in one of the saved men he recognized, by dress and features, the person he had seen at the captain's desk in the cabin. the stranger was requested to write down the words: steer nw.! and when the words were compared with those still standing on the slate, they were identical! upon inquiry it turned out that the shipwrecked man had at noon fallen into a deep sleep, during which he had seen a ship approaching to their rescue. when he had been waked half an hour later he had confidently assured his fellow-sufferers that they would be rescued, describing even the vessel that was to come to their assistance. words cannot convey the amazement of the unfortunate men when they saw, a few hours afterwards, a ship bear down upon them, which bore all the marks predicted by their companion, and the latter assured robert bruce that everything on board the vessel appeared to him perfectly familiar. cases in which men have been seen at the same time at two different places are not less frequent, though here the explanation is much less easy. a french girl, emilie sagée, had even to pay a severe penalty for such a peculiarity: she was continually met with at various places at once, and as she could not give a satisfactory excuse for being at one place when her duties required her to be at another, she was suspected of sad misconduct. she lived as governess in a boarding-school in livonia, and the girls of the institute saw her at the same time sitting among them and walking below in the garden by the side of a friend, and not unfrequently two miss sagées would be seen standing before the blackboard, looking exactly alike and performing the same motions, although one of them only wrote with chalk on the board. once, while she was helping a friend to lace her dress behind, the latter looked into the mirror and to her horror saw two persons standing there, whereupon she fell down fainting. the poor french girl lost her place not less than nineteen times on account of her double existence (owen, "footfalls," etc., p. ). occasionally this "double" appears to others at the same time that it is seen by the owner himself. thus the empress elizabeth, of russia, was seen by a count o. and the imperial guards, seated in full regalia on her throne, in the throne-room, while she was lying fast asleep in her bed. the vision was so distinct, and the terror of the beholders so great, that the empress was actually waked, and informed of what had happened, by her lady-in-waiting, who had herself seen the whole scene. the dauntless empress did not hesitate for a moment; she dressed hastily and went to the throne-room; when the doors were thrown open, she saw herself, as the others had seen her; but so far from being terrified like her servants, she ordered the guard to fire at the apparition. when the smoke had passed away, the hall was empty--but the brave empress died a few months latter (_bl. aus prevost_, v. p. ). jung stilling mentions another striking illustration. a young lieutenant, full of health and in high spirits, returns home from a merry meeting with old friends. as he approaches the house in which he lives, he sees lights in his room and, to his great terror, himself in the act of being undressed by his servant; as he stands and gazes in speechless wonder, he sees himself walk to his bed and lie down. he remains for some time dumbfounded and standing motionless in the street, till at last a dull, heavy crash arouses him from his revery. he makes an effort, goes to the door and rings the bell; his servant, who opens the door, starts back frightened, and wonders how he could have dressed so quickly and gone out, as he had but just helped him to undress. when they enter the bedroom, however, they are both still more amazed, for there they find a large part of the ceiling on the bed of the officer, which is broken to pieces by the heavy mortar that had fallen down. the young lieutenant saw in the warning a direct favor of providence and lived henceforth so as to show his gratitude for this almost miraculous escape ("jenseits," p. ). not unfrequently the seeing of a "double" is the result of physical or mental disease. persons suffering of catalepsy are especially prone to see their own forms mixing with strange persons, who people the room in which they are confined. insanity, also, very often begins with the idea, that the patient's own image is constantly by his side, accompanying him like his shadow wherever he goes, and finally irritating him beyond endurance. in these cases there is, of course, nothing at work but a diseased imagination, and with the return of health the visions also disappear. perhaps the most important branch of this subject is the theory, cherished by all nations and in all ages, that the dying possess at the last moment and by a supreme effort, the mysterious power of making themselves perceptible to friends at a distance. we leave out, here also, the numerous instances told of saints, because they are generally claimed by the catholic church as miracles. one of the oldest well-authenticated cases of the kind, occurred at the court of cosmo de' medici, in . in the brilliant circle of eminent men which the great merchant prince had gathered around him, two philosophers, michael mercatus, papal prothonotary, and marsilius ficinus were prominent by their vast erudition, their common devotion to platonic philosophy, and the ardent friendship which bound them to each other. they had solemnly agreed that he who should die first, should convey to the other some information about the future state. ficinus died first, and his friend, writing early in the morning near a window, suddenly heard a horseman dashing up to his house, checking his horse and crying out: "michael! michael! nothing is more true than what is said of the life to come!" mercatus immediately opened the window and saw his bosom friend riding at full speed down the road, on his white horse, until he was out of sight. he returned, full of thought, to his studies; but wrote at once to inquire about his friend. in due time the answer came, that ficinus had died in florence at the very moment in which mercatus had seen him in rome. our authority for this remarkable account is the cardinal baronius, who knew mercatus and heard it from his own lips; but the dates which he mentions do not correspond with the annals of history. he places the event in the year , but michele de' mercati was papal prothonotary under sixtus v. ( - ) and could, therefore, not have been the friend of ficinus, the famous physician and theologian, who was one of savonarola's most distinguished adherents. nor can we attach much weight to the old ballads of roland, which recite in touching simplicity the anguish of charlemagne, when he heard from afar the sound of his champion's horn imploring him to come to his assistance, although the two armies were at so great a distance from each other that when the emperor at last reached the ill-fated valley of ronceval, his heroic friend had been dead for some days. calderon depicts in like manner, but with the peculiar coloring of the spanish devotee, how the dying eusebio calls his absent friend alberto to his bedside, to hear his last confession, and how the latter, obeying the mysterious summons, hastens there to fulfil his solemn promise. a well-known occurrence of this kind is reported by cotton mather as having taken place in new england. on may d, , at o'clock a. m., a young man, called beacon, then living in boston, suddenly saw his brother, whom he had left in london, standing before him in his usual costume, but with a bleeding wound in his forehead. he told him that he had been foully murdered by a reprobate, who would soon reach new england; at the same time he described minutely the appearance of his murderer, and implored his brother to avenge his death, promising him his assistance. towards the end of june official information reached the colony that the young man had died on may d, at o'clock a. m., from the effects of his wounds. but here, also, several inconsistencies diminish the value of the account. in the first place, the narrator has evidently forgotten the difference in time between london and boston in america, or he has purposely falsified the report, in order to make it more impressive. then the murderer never left his country; although he was tried for his crime, escaped the penalty of death by the aid of influential friends. it is, however, possible that he may have had the intention of seeking safety abroad at the time he committed the murder. the apparition of the great cardinal of lorraine at the moment of death, is better authenticated. d'aubigné tells us (_hist. univer._ , p. ) that the queen catherine of medici, was retiring one day, at an earlier hour than usual, in the presence of the king of navarre, the archbishop of lyons, and a number of eminent persons, when she suddenly hid her eyes under her hands and cried piteously for help. she made great efforts to point out to the bystanders the form of the cardinal, whom she saw standing at the foot of her bed and offering her his hand. she exclaimed repeatedly: "monsieur le cardinal, i have nothing to do with you!" and was in a state of most fearful excitement. at last one of the courtiers had the wit to go to the cardinal's house, and soon returned with the appalling news that the great man had died in that very hour. to this class of cases belongs also the well-known vision of lord lyttleton, who had been warned that he would die on a certain day, at midnight, and who did die at the appointed hour, although his friends had purposely advanced every clock and watch in the house by half an hour, and he himself had gone to bed with his mind relieved of all anxiety. jarvis, in his "accreditated ghost stories," p. , relates the following remarkable case: "when general stuart was governor of san domingo, in the early part of our war of independence, he was one day anxiously awaiting a certain major von blomberg, who had been expected for some time. at last he determined to dictate to his secretary a dispatch to the home government on this subject, when steps were heard outside, and the major himself entered, desiring to confer with the governor in private. he said: 'when you return to england, pray go into dorsetshire to such and such a farm, where you will find my son, the fruit of a secret union with lady laing. take care of the poor orphan. the woman who has reared him has the papers that establish his legitimacy; they are in a red morocco pocket-book. open it and make the best use you can of the papers you will find. you will never see me again.' thereupon the major walked away, but nobody else had seen him come or go, and nobody had opened the house for him. a few days later, news reached the island that the vessel on which blomberg had taken passage, had foundered, and all hands had perished, at the very hour when the former had appeared to his friend the governor. it became also known that the two friends had pledged each other, not only that the survivor should take care of the children of him who died first, but also that he should make an effort to appear to him if permitted to do so. the governor found everything as it had been told him; he took charge of his friend's son, who became a _protégé_ of queen charlotte, when she heard the remarkable story, and was educated as a companion of the future george iv." lord byron tells the following story of captain kidd. he was lying one night in his cabin asleep, when he suddenly felt oppressed by a heavy weight apparently resting on him; he opened his eyes, and by the feeble light of a small lamp he fancied he saw his brother, dressed in full uniform, and leaning across the bed. under the impression that the whole is a mere idle delusion of his senses, he turns over and falls asleep once more. but the sense of oppression returns, and upon opening his eyes he sees the same image as before. now he tries to seize it, and to his amazement touches something wet. this terrifies him, and he calls a brother officer, but when the latter enters, nothing is to be seen. after the lapse of several months captain kidd received information that in that same night his brother had been drowned in the indian sea. he himself told the story to lord byron, and the latter endorsed its accuracy (_monthly rev._, , p. ). one of the most remarkable interviews of this kind, which continued for some time, and led to a prolonged and interesting conversation during which the three senses of sight, hearing, and touch, were alike engaged, is that which a mrs. bargrave had on the th of september, . according to an account given by jarvis ("accred. ghost stories," lond., ), she was sitting in her house in canterbury, in a state of great despondency, when a friend of hers, miss veal, who lived at dover, and whom she had not seen for two years and a half, entered the room. the two ladies had formerly been very intimate, and found equal comfort, during a period of great sorrow, in reading together works treating of future life and similar subjects. her friend wore a traveling suit, and the clocks were striking noon as she entered; mrs. bargrave wished to embrace her, but miss veal held a hand before her eyes, stating that she was unwell and drew back. she then added that she was on the point of making a long journey, and feeling an irresistible desire to see her friend once more, she had come to canterbury. she sat down in an armchair and began a lengthened conversation, during which she begged her friend's pardon for having so long neglected her, and gradually turned to the subject which had been uppermost in mrs. bargrave's mind, the views entertained by various authors of the life after death. she attempted to console the latter, assuring her that "a moment of future bliss was ample compensation for all earthly sufferings," and that "if the eyes of our mind were as open as those of the body, we should see a number of higher beings ready for our protection." she declined, however, reading certain verses aloud at her friend's request, "because holding her head low gave her the headache." she frequently passed her hand over her face, but at last begged mrs. bargrave to write a letter to her brother, which surprised her friend very much, for in the letter she wished her brother to distribute certain rings and sums of money belonging to her among friends and kinsmen. at this time she appeared to be growing ill again, and mrs. bargrave moved close up to her in order to support her, in doing so she touched her dress and praised the materials, whereupon miss veal told her that it was recently made, but of a silk which had been cleaned. then she inquired after mrs. bargrave's daughter, and the latter went to a neighboring house to fetch her; on her way back she saw miss veal at a distance in the street, which was full of people, as it happened to be market-day, but before she could overtake her, her friend had turned round a corner and disappeared. upon inquiry it appeared that miss veal, whom she had thus seen, whose dress she had touched, and with whom she had conversed for nearly two hours, had died the day before! when the question was discussed with the relatives of the deceased, it was found that she had communicated several secrets to her canterbury friend. the fact that her dress was made of an old silk-stuff was known to but one person, who had done the cleaning and made the dress, which she recognized instantly from the description. she had also acknowledged to mrs. bargrave her indebtedness to a mr. breton for an annual pension of ten pounds, a fact which had been utterly unknown during her lifetime. in germany a number of such cases are reported, and often by men whose names alone would give authority to their statements. thus the philosopher schopenhauer (_parerga_, etc., i. p. ) mentions a sick servant girl in frankfort on the main, who died one night at the jewish hospital of the former free city. early the next morning her sister and her niece, who lived several miles from town, appeared at the gate of the institution to make inquiries about their kinswoman. both, though living far apart, had seen her distinctly during the preceding night, and hence their anxiety. the famous writer e. m. arndt, also, quotes a number of striking revelations which were in this manner made to a lady of his acquaintance. thus he was once, in , visiting the island of rügen, in the baltic, and having been actively engaged all day, was sitting in an easy-chair, quietly nodding. suddenly he sees his dear old aunt sophie standing before him; on her face her well-known sweet smile, and in her arms her two little boys, whom he loved like his own. she was holding them out to him as if she wished to say by this gesture: "take care of the little ones!" the next day his brother joined him and brought him the news that their aunt had died on the preceding evening at the hour when she had appeared to arndt. wieland, even, by no means given to credit easily accounts of supernatural occurrences, mentions in his "euthanasia" a protestant lady of his acquaintance, whose mind was frequently filled with extraordinary visions. she was a somnambulist, and subject to cataleptic attacks. a benedictine monk, an old friend of the family, had been ordered to bellinzona, in switzerland, but his correspondence with his friends had never been interrupted for years. years after his removal the above-mentioned lady was taken ill, and at once predicted the day and hour of her death. on the appointed day she was cheerful and perfectly composed; at a certain hour, however, she raised herself slightly on her couch, and said with a sweet smile, "now it is time for me to go and say good-bye to father c." she immediately fell asleep, then awoke again, spoke a few words, and died. at the same hour the monk was sitting in bellinzona at his writing-table, a so-called pandora, a musical instrument, by his side. suddenly he hears a noise like an explosion, and looking up startled, sees a white figure, in whom he at once recognizes his distant friend by her sweet smile. when he examined his instrument he found the sounding-board cracked, which, no doubt, had given rise to his hearing what he considered a "warning voice." the rev. mr. oberlin, well-known and much revered in germany, and by no means forgotten in our own country, where a prosperous college still bears his name, declares in his memoirs that he had for nine years constant intercourse with his deceased wife. he saw her for the first time after her death in broad daylight and when he was wide awake; afterwards the conversations were carried on partly in the day and partly at night. other people in the village in which he lived saw her as well as himself. nor was it by the eye only that the pious, excellent man judged of her presence; frequently, when he extended his hand, he would feel his fingers gently pressed, as his wife had been in the habit of doing when she passed by him and would not stop. but there was much bitterness and sorrow also mixed up with the sweetness of these mysterious relations. the passionate attachment of husband and wife could ill brook the terrible barrier that separated them from each other, and often the latter would look so wretched and express her grief in such heartrending words that the poor minister was deeply afflicted. the impression produced on his mind was that her soul, forced for unknown reasons to remain for some time in an intermediate state, remained warmly attached to earthly friends and lamented the inability to confer with them after the manner of men. after nine years the husband's visions suddenly ended and he was informed in a dream that his wife had been admitted into a higher heaven, where she enjoyed the promised peace with her saviour, but could no longer commune with mortal beings. it is well known that even the great reformer, martin luther, knew of several similar cases, and in his "table talk" mentions more than one remarkable instance. another well-known and much discussed occurrence of this kind happened in the days of mazarin, and created a great sensation in the highest circles at paris. a marquis of rambouillet and a marquis of preci, intimate friends, had agreed to inform each other of their fate after death. the former was ordered to the army in flanders, while the other remained in the capital. here he was taken ill with a fever, several weeks after parting with his friend, and as he was one morning towards o'clock lying in bed awake, the curtains were suddenly drawn aside, and his friend dressed as usual, booted and spurred, was standing before him. overjoyed, he was about to embrace him, but his friend drew back and said that he had come only to keep his promise after having been killed in a skirmish the day before, and that preci also would share his fate in the first combat in which he should be engaged. the latter thinks his friend is joking, jumps up and tries to seize him--but he feels nothing. the vision, however, is still there; rambouillet even shows him the fatal wound in his thigh from which the blood seems still to be flowing. then only he disappears and preci remains utterly overcome; at last he summons his valet, rouses the whole house, and causes every room and every passage to be searched. no trace, however, is found, and the whole vision is attributed to his fever. but a few days later the mail arrives from flanders, bringing the news that rambouillet had really fallen in such a skirmish and died from a wound in the thigh; the prediction also was fulfilled, for preci fell afterwards in his first fight near st. antoine (petaval, _causes célèbres_, xii. ). the parents of the well-known writer schubert were exceptionally endowed with magic powers of this kind. the father once heard, as he thought in a dream, the voice of his aged mother, who called upon him to come and visit her in the distant town in which she lived, if he desired to see her once more before she died. he rejected the idea that this was more than a common dream; but soon he heard the voice repeating the warning. now he jumped up and saw his mother standing before him, extending her hand and saying: "christian gottlob, farewell, and may god bless you; you will not see me again upon earth," and with these words she disappeared. although no one had apprehended such a calamity, she had actually died at that hour, after expressing in her last moments a most anxious desire to see her son once more. tangible perceptions of persons dying at a distance are, of course, very rare. still, more than one such case is authoritatively stated; among these, the following: a lawyer in paris had returned home and walked, in order to reach his own bedroom, through that of his brother. to his great astonishment he saw the latter lying in his bed; received, however, no answer to his questions. thereupon he walked up to the bed, touched his brother and found the body icy cold. of a sudden the form vanished and the bed was empty. at that instant it flashed through his mind that he and his brother had promised each other that the one dying first should, if possible, give a sign to the survivor. when he recovered from the deep emotion caused by these thoughts, he left the room and as he opened the door he came across a number of men who bore the body of his brother, who had been killed by a fall from his horse (_la patrie_, sept. , ). the count of neuilly, also, was warned in a somewhat similar manner. he was at college and on the point of paying a visit to his paternal home, when a letter came telling him that his father was not quite well and that he had better postpone his visit a few days. later letters from his mother mentioned nothing to cause him any uneasiness. but several days afterward, at one o'clock in the morning, he thought, apparently in a dream, that he saw a pale ghastly figure rise slowly at the lower end of his bed, extend both arms, embrace him and then sink slowly down again out of sight. he uttered heart-rending cries, and fell out of his bed, upsetting a chair and a table. when his tutor and a man-servant rushed into the room, they found him lying unconscious on the floor, covered with cold, clammy perspiration and strangely disfigured. as soon as he was restored to consciousness, he burst out into tears and assured them that his father had died and come to take leave of him. in vain did his friends try to calm his mind, he remained in a state of utter dejection. three days later a letter came from his mother, bringing him the sad news, that his father had died on that night and at the hour in which he had appeared by his bedside. the unfortunate count could never entirely get rid of the overwhelming impression which this occurrence had made on his mind, and was, to the day of his death, firmly convinced of the reality of this meeting (_dix années d' émigration._ paris, ). we learn from such accounts that there prevails among all men, at all ages, a carefully repressed, but almost irresistible belief in supernatural occurrences, and in the close proximity of the spirit world. this belief is neither to be treated with ridicule nor to be objected to as unchristian, since it is an abiding witness that men entertain an ineradicable conviction of the immortality of the soul. no arguments can ever destroy in the minds of the vast majority of men this innate and intuitive faith. we may decline to believe with them the existence of supernatural agencies, as long as no experimental basis is offered; but we ought, at the same time, to be willing to modify our incredulity as soon as an accumulation of facts appear to justify us in so doing. our age is so completely given up to materialism with its ceaseless hurry and worry, that we ought to hail with a sense of relief new powers which require examination, and which offer to our intellectual faculties an untrodden field of investigation, full of incidents refreshing to our weary mind, and promising rich additions to our store of knowledge. it can hardly be denied that there is at least a possibility of the existence of a higher spiritual power within us, which, often slumbering and altogether unknown, or certainly unobserved during life, becomes suddenly free to act in the hour of death. this may be brought about by the fact that at that time the strength of the body is exhausted, and earthly wants no longer press upon us, while the spiritual part of our being, largely relieved of its bondage, becomes active in its own peculiar way, and thus acquires a power which we are disposed to call a magic power. this power is, of course, not used consciously, for consciousness presupposes the control over our senses, but it acts by intuitive impulse. hence the wide difference existing between the so-called magic of charmers, enchanters, and conjurors, justly abhorred and strictly prohibited by divine laws, and the effects of such supreme efforts made by the soul, which depend upon involuntary action, and are never made subservient to wicked purposes. the results of such exertions are generally impressions made apparently upon the eye or the ear; but it need not be said that what is seen or heard in such cases, is merely the effect of a deeply felt sensation in our soul which seeks an outward expression. if our innermost being is thus suddenly appealed to, as it were, by the spirit of a dying friend or companion, his image arises instantaneously before our mind's eye, and we fancy we see him in bodily form, or our memory recalls the familiar sounds by which his appearance was wont to be accompanied. dying musicians remind distant friends of their former relations by sweet sounds, and a sailor, wounded to death, appears in his uniform to relatives at home. the series of sights and sounds by which such intercourse is established, varies from the simplest and faintest vision to an apparently clear and distinct perception of well-known forms, and constitute feeble, hardly perceptible, sighs or sobs to words uttered aloud, or whole melodies clearly recited. if a living person, by such an unconscious but all-powerful effort of will, makes himself seen by others, we call the vision a "double," in german, a "doppelgänger;" if he produces a state of dualism, such as has been mentioned before, and sees his own self in space before him, we speak of second sight. such efforts are, however, by no means strictly limited to the moment of dissolution, when soul and body are already in the act of parting. they occur also in living persons, but almost invariably only in diseased persons. the exceptions belong to the small number of men in whom great excitement from without, or a mysterious power of will, cause a state of ecstasy; they are, in common parlance, "beside themselves." in this condition, their soul is for the moment freed from the bondage in which it is held by its earthy companion, and such men become clairvoyants and prophets, or they are enabled actually to affect other men at a distance, in various ways. thus it may very well be, that strange visions, the hearing of mysterious voices, and especially the most familiar phenomenon, second sight, are in reality nothing more than symptoms of a thoroughly diseased system, and this explains very simply the frequency with which death follows such mysterious occurrences. men have claimed--and proved to the satisfaction of more or less considerable numbers of friends--that they could at will cause a partial and momentary parting between their souls and their bodies. here also antiquity is our first teacher, if we believe pliny (_hist. nat._ vii. c. ), hermotimus could at his pleasure fall into a trance and then let his soul proceed from his body to distant places. upon being aroused, he reported what he had seen and heard abroad, and his statements were, in every case, fully confirmed. cardanus, also, could voluntarily throw himself into a state of apparent syncope, as he tells us in most graphic words (_de res. var._ v. iii. l. viii. c. ). the first sensation of which he was always fully conscious, was a peculiar pain in the head, which gradually extended downward along the spine, and at last spread over the extremities--evidently a purely nervous process. then he felt as if a "door was opened, and he himself was leaving his body," whereupon he not only saw persons at a distance, but noticed all that befell them, and recalled it after he had recovered from the trance. an old german abbé freitheim, of whose remarkable work on _steganographie_ ( ), unfortunately only a few sheets have been preserved, claims the power to commune with absent friends by the mere energy of his will. "i can," says he, "make known my thoughts to the initiated, at a distance of many hundred miles, without word, writing or cypher, by any messenger. the latter cannot betray me, for he knows nothing. if needs be, i can even dispense with the messenger. if my correspondent should be buried in the deepest dungeon i could still convey to him my thoughts as clearly, as fully, and as frequently as might be desirable, and all this, quite simply, without superstition, without the aid of spirits." the famous agrippa (_de occulta philos., lugduni_, iii. p. ) quotes the former writer, and asserts that he also could, by mere effort of will, in a perfectly simple and natural manner convey his thoughts not to the initiated only, but to any one, even when his correspondent's present place of residence should be unknown. the most remarkable, and, at the same time, the best authenticated case of this kind, is that of a high german official mentioned in a scientific paper (_nasse. zeitschrift für psychische aerzte_, ), and frequently copied into others. a counsellor wesermann claimed to be able to cause distant friends to dream of any subject he might choose. whenever he awoke at night and made a determined effort to produce such an effect, he never failed, provided the nature of the desired dream was calculated to startle or deeply excite his friends. his power was tested in this manner. he engaged to cause a young officer, who was stationed at aix-la-chapelle, nearly fifty miles from his own home, to dream of a young lady who had died not long ago. it was eleven o'clock at night, but by some accident the lieutenant was not at home in bed, but at a friend's country-seat, discussing the french campaign. suddenly the colonel, his host, and he himself see at the same time the door open, a lady enter, salute them sadly, and beckon them to follow her. the two officers rise and leave the room after her, but once out of doors, the figure disappears, and when they inquire of the sentinels standing guard outside, they are told that no one has entered. what made the matter more striking yet, was the fact that although both men had seen the door open, this could not really have been so, for the wood had sprung and the door creaked badly whenever it was opened. the same wesermann could, in like manner, cause his friends to see his own person and to hear secrets which he seemed to whisper into their ears whenever he chose; but he admitted upon it that his will was not at all times equally strong, and that, hence, his efforts were not always equally successful. cases of similar powers are very numerous. a very curious example was published in , in a work on "psychologic studies" (schlemmer, p. ). the author, who was a police agent in the prussian service, asserted that persons who apprehended being conducted to gaol with special anxiety, often made themselves known there in advance, announcing their arrival by knocks at the gates, opening of doors, or footsteps heard in the room set aside for examining new comers. one day, not the writer only, but all the prisoners in the same building, and even the sentinel at the gate heard distinctly a great disturbance and the rattling of chains in a cell exclusively appropriated to murderers. the next day a criminal was brought who had expressed such horror of this gaol, and made such resistance to the officials who were to carry him there, that it had become necessary, after a great uproar, to chain him hands and feet. it is well known that the mother of the great statesman canning at one time of her life suffered under most mysterious though harmless nightly visitations. her circumstances were such that she readily accepted the offer of a dwelling which stood unoccupied, with the exception of the basement, in which a carpenter had his workshop. at nightfall he and his workmen left the house, carefully locking the door, but night after night, at twelve o'clock precisely, work began once more in the abandoned part of the house, as far as the ear could judge, and the noise made by planing and sawing, cutting and carving increased, till the fearless old lady slipt down in her stocking feet and opened the door. instantly the noise was hushed, and she looked into the dark deserted room. but as soon as she returned to her chamber the work began anew, and continued for some time; nor was she the only one who heard it, but others, the owner of the house included, heard everything distinctly. the following well-authenticated account of a posthumous appearance, is not without its ludicrous element. a court-preacher in one of the little saxon duchies, appeared once in bands and gowns before his sovereign, bowing most humbly and reverently. the duke asked what he desired, but received no answer except another deep reverence. a second question meets with the same reply, whereupon the divine leaves the room, descends the stairs and crosses the court-yard, while the prince, much surprised at his strange conduct, stands at a window and watches him till he reaches the gates. then he sends a page after him to try and ascertain what was the matter with the old gentleman, but the page comes running back almost beside himself, and reports that the minister had died a short while before. the prince refuses to believe his report, and sends a high official, but the latter returns with the same report and this additional information: the dying man had asked for writing materials, in order to recommend his widow to his sovereign, but had hardly commenced writing the letter when death surprised him. the fragment was brought to the duke and convinced him that his faithful servant, unable to reach him by letter, and yet nervously anxious to approach him, had spiritually appeared to him in his most familiar costume (daumer, _mystagog._ i. p. ). before we regret such statements or treat them with ridicule, it will be well to remember, that men endowed with an extraordinary power of controlling certain faculties of body and soul, are by no means rare, and that the difference between them and those last mentioned, consists only in the degree. we speak of the power of sight and limit it ordinarily to a certain distance--and yet a hottentot, we are told, can perceive the head of a gazelle in the dry, uniform grass of an african plain, at the distance of a thousand yards! many men cannot hear sounds in nature which are perfectly audible to others, while some persons hear even certain notes uttered by tiny insects, which escape altogether the average hearing of man. patients under treatment by baron reichenbach, saw luminous objects and the appearance of lights hovering above ground, where neither he nor any of his friends could perceive anything but utter darkness, and the special gift with which some persons are endowed to feel, as it were, the presence of water and of metals below the surface, is well authenticated. poor caspar hauser, bred in darkness and solitude, felt various and deep impressions upon his whole being during the first months of his free life, whenever he came in contact with plants, stones or metals. the latter sent a current through all his limbs; tobacco fields made him deadly sick, and the vicinity of a graveyard gave him violent pains in his chest. persons who were introduced to him for the first time, sent a cold current through him; and when they possessed a specially powerful physique, they caused him abundant perspiration, and often even convulsions. the waves of sound he felt so much more acutely than others, that he always continued to hear them with delight, long after the last sound had passed away from the ears of others. it may be fairly presumed that this extreme sensitiveness to outward impressions is originally possessed by all men, but becomes gradually dulled and dimmed by constant repetition; at the same time it may certainly be preserved in rare privileged cases, or it may come back again to the body in a diseased or disordered condition, and at the moment of dissolution. nor is the power occasionally granted to men to control their senses limited to these; even the spontaneous functions of the body are at times subject to the will of man. an englishman, for instance, could at will modify the beating of his heart (cheyne, "new dis.," p. ), and a german produced, like a veritable ruminant, the antiperistaltic motions of the stomach, whenever he chose (blumenbach, _phys._ § ). other men have been known who could at any moment cause the familiar "goose-skin," or perspiration, to appear in any part of the body, and many persons can move not only the ears--a lost faculty according to darwin--but even enlarge or contract the pupil of the eye, after the manner of cats and parrots. even the circulation of the blood has been known, in a few rare cases, to have been subject to the will of men, and the great philosopher kant did not hesitate to affirm, supported as he was by his own experience, that men could, if they were but resolute enough, master, by a mere effort of the will, not a few of their diseases. a striking evidence of the comparative facility with which men thus exceptionally gifted, may be able to imitate certain magic phenomena, was once given by an excellent mimic, whom _richard_ describes in his _théorie des songes_. he could change his features so completely that they assumed a deathlike appearance; his senses lost gradually their power of perception, and the vital spirit was seen to withdraw from the outer world. a slow, quivering motion passed through his whole system from the feet upward, as if he wished to rise from the ground. after a while all efforts of the body to remain upright proved fruitless; it looked as if life had actually begun to leave it already. at this moment he abandoned his deception and was so utterly exhausted that he heard and saw but with extreme difficulty. in the face of these facts the possibility at least cannot be denied that certain specially endowed individuals may possess, in health or in disease, the power to perceive phenomena which appear all the more marvelous because they are beyond the reach of ordinary powers of perception. in our own day superstition and wanton, or cunningly devised, imposture have been so largely mixed up with the subject, that a strong and very natural prejudice has gradually grown up against the belief in ghosts. every strange appearance, every mysterious coincidence, that escaped the most superficial investigation, was forthwith called a ghost. history records, besides, numerous cases in which the credulity of great men has been played upon for purposes of policy and statecraft. when the german emperor joseph showed his great fondness of augustus of saxony--afterwards king of poland--his austrian counsellors became alarmed at the possible influence of such intimacy of their sovereign with a protestant prince, and determined to break it off. night after night, therefore, a fearful vision arose before the german emperor, rattling its chains and accusing the young prince of grievous heresy. augustus, however, known already at that time for his gigantic strength, asked joseph's permission to sleep in his room; when the ghost appeared as usual, the young prince sprang upon him, and feeling his flesh and blood, threw him bodily out of a window of the second story into a deep fosse. the unfortunate king of prussia, frederick william ii., fell soon after his ascension of the throne into the hands of designing men, who determined to profit by his great kindness of heart and his tendency to mysticism, and began to work upon him by supernatural apparitions. one of the most cunningly devised impostures of the kind was practised upon king gustavus iii. of sweden by ambitious noblemen of his court. the scene was the ancient lofoe church in drotingholm, a favorite residence of former swedish monarchs. the king's physician, iven hedin, learnt accidentally from the sexton that his master had been spending several nights in the building, in company with a few of his courtiers. alarmed by this information he persuaded the sexton to let him watch the proceedings from a secret place in the old steeple of the church. an opportunity came in the month of august, , and he had scarcely taken possession of his post when two of the royal secretaries came in, closed the door, and arranged a curious contrivance in the body of the building. to his great surprise and amusement the doctor saw them fasten some horse-hairs to the heavy chandeliers suspended from the lofty ceiling, and then pin to them masks sewed on to white floating garments. finally large quantities of incense were scattered on the floor and set on fire, while all lights, save a few thin candles, were extinguished. then the king was ushered in with five of his courtiers, made to assume a peculiar, very irksome position, and all were asked to hold naked swords upon each other's breasts. thereupon the first comer murmured certain formulas of conjuration, and performed some ceremonies, when his companion slowly drew up one of the masks. it was fashioned to resemble the great gustavus adolphus, and in the dimly-lighted church, filled with dense smoke, it looked to all intents and purposes like a ghost arising from the vaults underneath. it disappeared as slowly into the darkness above, and was immediately followed by another mask representing adolphus frederick, and even the physician, who knew the secret, could not repress a shudder, so admirably was the whole contrived. then followed a few flashes of lightning, during which the horse-hairs were removed, lights were brought in, and the king, deeply moved and shedding silent tears, escorted from the building. the faithful physician watched his opportunity, and when a favorable hour appeared, revealed the secret to his master, and thus, fortunately for sweden, defeated a very dangerous and most skillfully-conducted conspiracy. even ventriloquism has lent its aid to many an historical imposture, as in the case of francis i. of france, whose valet, louis of brabant, possessed great skill in that art, and used it unsparingly for his own benefit and to the advantage of courtiers who employed him for political purposes. he even persuaded the mother of a beautiful and wealthy young lady to give him her daughter's hand by imitating the voice of her former husband, and commanding her to do so in order to release him from purgatory! we fear that to this class of ghostly appearances must also be counted the almost historical white lady of the margraves of brandenburg. report says that she represents a countess kunigunde of orlamünde, who lived in the fourteenth century and killed her two children, for which crime she was executed by order of a burggrave of nuremberg. history, however, knows nothing of such an event, and the white lady does not appear till , when she is first seen in the old palace at baireuth. this was nothing but a trick of the courtiers; whenever they desired to leave the dismal town and the uncomfortable building, one of the court ladies personated the ghost, and occasionally, even two white ladies were seen at the same time. in the ghost met with a tragic fate; it had appeared several times in the castle of margrave albert the warrior, and irritated the prince to such a degree that he at last seized it one night and hurled it headlong down the long staircase. the morning dawn revealed his chancellor, christopher strass, who had betrayed his master and now paid with a broken neck for his bold imposture. after this catastrophe the white lady was not seen for nearly a hundred years, when she suddenly reappeared in baireuth. in the year the then reigning margrave of brandenburg found her one day sitting in his own chair and was terrified; the next day he rode out, fell from his horse, and was instantly killed. from this time the white lady became a part of the history of the house of brandenburg, accompanying the princes to berlin and making it her duty to forewarn the illustrious family of any impending calamity. king frederick i. saw her distinctly, but other sovereigns discerned only a vague outline and now and then the nose and eyes, while all the rest was closely veiled. in the old palace at baireuth there exist to this day two portraits of the white lady, one in white, as she appeared of old, and very beautiful, the other in black satin, with her hair powdered and dressed after more modern fashion--there is no likeness between the two faces. the ghost was evidently a good patriot, for she disturbed french officers who were quartered there, in the new palace as well as in the old, and as late as thoroughly frightened a number of generals who had laughed at the credulity of the germans. in general d'espagne roused his aides in the depth of night by fearful cries, and when they rushed in he was found lying in the centre of the room, under the bedstead. he told them that the white lady, in a costume of black and white, resembling one of the portraits, had appeared and threatened to strangle him; in the struggle she had dragged the bedstead to the middle of the room and there upset it. the room was thoroughly searched at his command, the hangings removed from the walls, and the whole floor taken up, but no trace was found of any opening through which a person might have entered; the doors had been guarded by sentinels. the general left the place immediately, looking upon the vision as a warning of impending evil, and, sure enough, a few days later he found his death upon the battle-field of aspern. even the great napoleon, whose superstition was generally thought to be confined to his faith in his "star," would not lodge in the rooms haunted by the white lady, and when he reached baireuth in , a suite of rooms was prepared for him in another wing of the palace. it was, however, noticed that even there his night's rest must have been interrupted, for on the next morning he was remarkably nervous and out of humor, murmuring repeatedly "_ce maudit château_," and declaring that he would never again stay at the place. when he returned to that neighborhood in , he refused to occupy the rooms that had been prepared for him, and continued his journey far into the night, rather than remain at baireuth. the town was, however, forever relieved of its ill-fame after . it is not without interest that in the same year the steward of the royal palace died, and report says in his rooms were found a number of curiosities apparently connected with the white lady's costume; if this be so, his ardent patriotism and fierce hatred of the french might well furnish a cue to some of the more recent apparitions. the white lady continued to appear in berlin, and the terror she created was not even allayed by repeated discoveries of most absurd efforts at imposture. once she turned out to be a white towel agitated by a strong draught between two windows; at another time it was a kitchen-maid on an errand of love, and a third time an old cook taking an airing in the deserted rooms. she appeared once more in the month of february, , announcing, as many believed, the death of the reigning monarch, which took place in june; and quite recently ( ) similar warning was given shortly before the emperor's brother, prince albrecht, died in his palace. white ladies are, however, by no means an exclusive privilege of the house of brandenburg; scotland has its ancient legends, skillfully used in novel, poem and opera, and italy boasts of a donna bianca, at colalta, in the marca trivigiana, of whom byron spoke as if he had never doubted her existence. ireland has in like manner the banshee, who warns with her plaintive voice the descendants of certain old families, whenever a great calamity threatens one of the members. curiously enough she clings to these once powerful but now often wretchedly poor families, as if pride of descent and attachment to old splendor prevailed even in the realms of magic. historical ghosts play, nevertheless, a prominent part in all countries. lilly, baxter and clarendon, all relate the remarkable warnings which preceded the murder of villiers, duke of buckingham. in this case the warning was given not to the threatened man, but to an old and faithful friend, who had already been intimate with the duke's father. he saw the latter appear to him several nights in succession, urging him to go to the duke, and after revealing to him certain peculiar circumstances, to warn him against the plots of his enemies, who threatened his life. parker was afraid to appear ridiculous and delayed giving the warning. but the ghost left him no peace, and at last, in order to decide him, revealed to him a secret only known to himself and his ill-fated son. the latter, when his old friend at last summoned courage to deliver the mysterious message, was at first inclined to laugh at the warning; but when parker mentioned the father's secret, he turned pale and declared only the evil one could have entrusted it to mortal man. nevertheless, he took no steps to rid himself of his traitorous friend and continued his sad life as before. the father's ghost thereupon appeared once more to parker, with deep sadness in his features and holding a knife in his hand, with which, he said, his unfortunate son would be murdered. parker, whose own impending death had been predicted at the same time, once more waited upon the great duke, but again in vain; he was rudely sent back and requested not to trouble the favorite's peace any more by his foolish dreams. a few days afterwards lieutenant felton assassinated the duke with precisely such a knife as parker had seen in his visions. a similar occurrence is related of the famous duchess of mazarin, the favorite of charles ii., and madame de beauclair, who stood in the same relation to james ii. the two ladies, who were bosom friends, had pledged their word to each other, that she who died first should appear to the survivor and inform her of the nature of the future state. the duchess died; but as no message came from her, her friend denied stoutly and persistently the immortality of the soul. but many years later, when the promise was long forgotten, the duchess suddenly was seen one night, gliding softly through the room and looking sweetly at her friend, whispering to her: "beauclair, between twelve and one o'clock to-night you will be near me." the poor lady died at the appointed hour (nork. "existence of spirits," p. ). less well-authenticated is the account of a warning given to king george i. shortly before his death, although it was generally believed throughout england at the time it occurred. the report was that the queen, sophia, repeatedly showed herself to her husband, beseeching him to break off his intercourse with his beautiful friend, lady horatia. as these requests availed nothing, and the monarch refused even to believe in the reality of her appearance, she at last tied a knot in a lace collar, declaring that "if mortal fingers could untie the knot, the king and lady horatia might laugh at her words." the fair lady tried her best to undo it, but giving it up in despair, she threw the collar into the fire; the king, highly excited, snatched the lace from the burning coals, but in so doing, touched with it the light gauze dress of his companion. in her terror she ran with great swiftness through room after room, thus fanning the flames into a blaze, and perished amid excruciating pains. the king, it is well known, died only two months later. a case which created a very great sensation at the time when it happened, and became generally known through the admirable manner in which it was narrated by the eloquent bernardin de st. pierre (_journal de trévoux_, vol. viii.), was that of the priest bezuel. when a young man of , and at college, he contracted an intimate friendship with the son of a royal official, called desfontaines. the two friends often spoke of future life, and when parted in , they signed with their blood a solemn compact, in which they agreed that the first who died should appear after death to the survivor. they wrote to each other constantly, and frequently alluded in their letters to the agreement. a year after their parting, bezuel happened to be, one day, in the fields, delivering a message to some workmen, when he suddenly fell down fainting. as he was in perfect health, he knew not what to think of this accident, but when it occurred a second and a third time, at the same hour, on the two following days, he became seriously uneasy. on the last occasion, however, he fell into a trance, in which he saw nothing around him, but beheld his friend desfontaines, who seized him by the arm and led him some thirty yards aside. the workmen saw him go there, as if obeying a guardian hand, and converse with an unseen person for three quarters of an hour. the young man heard here from his friend's lips, that he had been drowned while bathing in the river orne on the day and at the hour when bezuel had had his first fainting fit, that a companion had endeavored to save him, but when seized by the foot by the drowning man, had kicked him on the chest, and thus caused him to sink to the bottom. bezuel inquired after all the details and received full answers, but none to questions about the future life; nevertheless, the apparition continued to speak fluently but calmly, and requested bezuel to make certain communications to his kinsmen, and to repeat the "seven penitential psalms," which he ought to have said himself as a penance. it also mentioned the work in which desfontaines had been engaged up to the day of his death, and some names which he had cut in the bark of a tree near the town in which he lived. then it disappeared. bezuel was not able to carry out his friend's wishes, although the arm by which he had been seized, reminded him daily of his duty by a severe pain; after a month, the drowned man appeared twice more, urging his requests, and saying each time at the end of the interview, "_bis, bis_," just as he had been accustomed to do when in life. at last the young priest found the means to do his friend's bidding; the pain in the arm ceased instantly and his health remained perfect to the end of his life. when he reached caen where desfontaines had perished, he found everything precisely as he had been told in his visions, and two years afterwards he discovered by chance even the tree with the names cut in the bark. the amiable abbé de st. pierre does his best to explain the whole occurrence as a natural series of very simple accidents; there can be, however, no doubt of the exceptionable character of the leading features of the event, and the priest, from whose own account the facts are derived, must evidently in his trance have been endowed with powers of clairvoyance. in the first part of this century a book appeared in germany which led to a very general and rather violent discussion of the whole subject. it was written by a dr. woetzel, whose mind had, no doubt, been long engaged in trying to solve mysteries like that of the future life, since he had early come in contact with strange phenomena. the father of a dear friend of his having fainted in consequence of receiving a serious wound, was very indignant at being roused from the state of perfect bliss which he had enjoyed during the time. he affirmed that in the short interval he had visited his brother in berlin, whom he found sitting in a bower under a large linden-tree, surrounded by his family and a few friends, and engaged in drinking coffee. upon entering the garden, his brother had risen, advanced towards him and asked him what had brought him so unexpectedly to berlin. a few days after the fainting-fit a letter arrived from that city, inquiring what could have happened on that day and at that hour, and reciting all that the old gentleman had reported as having been done during his unconsciousness! nor had the latter been seen by his brother only, but quite as distinctly by the whole company present; his image had, however, vanished again as soon as his brother had attempted to touch him (woetzel, p. ). from his work we learn that he had begged his wife on her death-bed to appear to him after death, and she had promised to do so; but soon after her mind became so uneasy about the probable effects of her pledge, that her husband released her, and abandoned all thoughts on the subject. several weeks later he was sitting in a locked room, when suddenly a heavy draught of air rushed through it, the light was nearly blown out, a small window in an alcove sounded as if it were opened, and in an instant the faint luminous form of his wife was standing before the amazed widower. she said in a soft, scarcely audible voice: "charles, i am immortal; we shall see each other again." woetzel jumped up and tried to seize the form, but it vanished like thin mist, and he felt a strong electric shock. he saw the same vision and heard the same words repeatedly; his wife appeared as he had last seen her lying in her coffin; the second time a dog, who had been often petted by her, wagged his tail and walked caressingly around the apparition. the book, which appeared in , and gave a full account of all the phenomena, met with much opposition and contempt; a number of works were written against it, wieland ridiculed it in his "euthanasia," and others denounced it as a mere repetition of former statements. the author was, however, not abashed by the storm he had raised; he offered to swear to the truth of all he had stated before the great council of the university of leipzig, and published a second work in which he developed his theory of ghosts with great ability. according to his view, the spirits of the departed are for some time after death surrounded by a luminous essence, which may, under peculiarly favorable circumstances, become visible to human eyes, but which, according to the weakness of our mind, is generally transformed by the imagination only into the more familiar form of deceased friends. he insists, besides, upon it that all he saw and heard was an impression made upon the outer senses only, and that nothing in the whole occurrence originated in his inner consciousness. as there was nothing to be gained for him by his persistent assertions, it seems but fair to give them all the weight they may deserve, till the whole subject is more fully understood. another remarkable case is that of a mr. and mrs. james, at whose house the rev. mr. mills, a methodist preacher, was usually entertained when his duties brought him to their place of residence. one year he found they had both died since his last visit, but he staid with the orphaned children, and retired to the same room which he had always occupied. the adjoining room was the former chamber of the aged couple, and here he began soon to hear a whispering and moving about, just as he used to hear it when they were still alive. this recalled to him the reports he had heard in the town, that the departed had been frequently seen by their numerous friends and kinsmen. the next day he called upon a plain but very pious woman, who urged him to share her simple meal with her; he consented, but what was his amazement when she said to him at the close of the meal: "now, mr. mills, i have a favor to ask of you. i want you to preach my funeral sermon next sunday. i am going to die next friday at three o'clock." when the astonished minister asked her to explain the strange request, she replied that mr. and mrs. james had come to her to tell her that they were ineffably happy, but still bound by certain ties to the world below. they had added that they had not died, as people believed, without disposing of their property, but that, in order to avoid dissensions among their children, they had been allowed to return and to make the place known where the will was concealed. they had tried to confer with mr. mills, but his timidity had prevented it; now they had come to her, as the minister was going to dine that day at her house. finally they had informed her of her approaching death on the day she had mentioned. the methodist minister looked, aided by the heirs and a legal man, for the will and found it at the place indicated. nanny, the poor woman, died on friday, and her funeral sermon was preached by him on the following sunday (rechenberg, p. ). a certain dr. t. van velseu published in , in dutch, a work, called _christus redivivus_, in which he relates a number of very remarkable appearances of deceased persons, and among these the following: "a friend of the author's, a man of sound, practical mind, and a declared enemy of all superstition, lost his mother whom he had most assiduously nursed for six weeks and who died in full faith in her redeemer. a few days later his nephew was to be married in a distant province, but although no near kinsman of his, except his mother, could be present, he, the uncle, could not make up his mind so soon after his grievous loss, to attend a wedding. this decision irritated and wounded his sister deeply and led to warm discussions, in which other relatives also took her side, and which threatened to cause a serious breach in the family. the mourner was deeply afflicted by the scene and at night, having laid the matter before god, he fell asleep with the thought on his mind: 'what would your mother think of it?' suddenly, while yet wide awake, he heard a voice saying: 'go!' although he recognized the voice instantly, he thought it might be his sister's and drew the bed-curtain aside, to see who was there. to his amazement he saw his mother's form standing by his bedside; terrified and bewildered he dropped the curtain, turned his face to the wall and tried to collect his thoughts, but at the same time he heard the same voice say once more: 'go!' he drew the curtain again and saw his mother as before, looking at him with deep love and gentle urgency. this excites him so that he can control himself no longer; he jumps up and tries to seize the form--it draws back and gradually dissolves before his eye. now only he recalls how often he has conversed with his mother about the future life and the possibility of communication after death; he becomes calm, decides to attend the wedding and sleeps soundly till the morning. the next day he finds his heart relieved of a sore burden; he joins his friends at the wedding and finds, to his infinite delight, that by his presence only a serious difficulty is avoided and peace is preserved in a numerous and influential family. in this case the effect of the mind on the imagination is strikingly illustrated, and although the vision of the mother may have existed purely in the son's mind, the practical result was precisely the same as if a spirit had really appeared in tangible shape so as to be seen by the outward eye." in some instances phenomena, like those described, are apparently the result of a disturbed conscience, and occur, therefore, in frequent repetition. already plutarch, in his "life of cimon," tells us that the spartan general, pausanias, had murdered a fair maiden, cleonice, because she overthrew a torch in his tent and he imagined himself to be attacked by assassins. the ghost of the poor girl, whom he had dishonored in life and so foully killed, appeared to him and threatened him with such fearful disgrace, that he was terrified and hastened to heraclea, where necromancers summoned the spirits of the departed by their vile arts. they called up cleonice, at the great commander's request, and she replied reluctantly, that the curse would not leave him till he went to sparta. pausanias did so and found his death there, the only way, says the historian of the same name, in which he could ever be relieved of such fearful guilt. baxter, also, tells us (p. ) of a rev. mr. franklin, whose young son repeatedly saw a lady and received at her hands quite painful correction. thus, when he was bound apprentice to a surgeon, in , and refused to return home upon being ordered to do so, she appeared to him, and when he resisted her admonitions, energetically boxed his ears. the poor boy was in bad health and seemed to suffer so much that at last the surgeon determined to consult his father, who lived on the island of ely. on the morning of the day which he spent travelling, the boy cried out: "oh, mistress, here's the lady again!" and at the same time a noise as of a violent blow was heard. the child hung his head and fell back dead. in the same hour the surgeon and the boy's father, sitting together in consultation, saw a lady enter the room, glance at them angrily, walk up and down a few times and disappear again. the fancy that murdered persons reappear in some shape after death for the purpose of wreaking their vengeance upon their enemies, is very common among all nations, and has often been vividly embodied in legends and ballads. the stories of hamlet and of don giovanni are based upon this belief, and the older chronicles abound with similar cases belonging to an age when violence was more frequent and justice less prompt than in our day. thus we are told in the annals of the famous castle of weinsberg in suabia--justly renowned all over the world for the rare instance of marital attachment exhibited by its women--that a steward had wantonly murdered a peasant there. thereupon disturbances of various kinds began to make the castle uninhabitable; a black shape was seen walking about and breathing hot and hateful odors upon all it met, while the steward became an object of special persecution. the townspeople at first were skeptic and laughed at his reports, but soon the black visitor was seen on the ramparts of the town also and created within the walls the same sensation as up at the castle. the good citizens at last observed a solemn fast-day and performed a pilgrimage to a holy shrine at heilbrum. but all was in vain, and the disturbances and annoyances increased in frequency and violence, till at last the unfortunate steward died from vexation and sorrow, when the whole ceased and peace was restored to town and castle alike (crusius, "suabian chron." ii. p. ). another case of this kind is connected with a curious token of gratitude exhibited by the gratified victim. a president of the parliament of toulouse, returning from paris towards the end of the seventeenth century, was compelled by an accident to stop at a poor country tavern. during the night there appeared to him an old man, pale and bleeding, who declared that he was the father of the present owner of the house, that he had been murdered by his own son, cut to pieces, and buried in the garden. he appealed to the president to investigate the matter and to avenge his murder. the judge was so forcibly impressed by his vision that he ordered search to be made, and lo! the body of the murdered man was found, and the son, thunderstruck by the mysterious revelation, acknowledged his guilt, was tried, and in course of time died on the scaffold. but the murdered man was not satisfied yet; he showed himself once more to the president and asked how he could prove his gratitude? the latter asked to be informed of the hour of his death, that he might fitly prepare himself, and was promised that he should know it a week in advance. many years afterwards a fierce knocking was heard at the gate of the president's house in toulouse; the porter opened but saw no one; the knocking was repeated, but this time also the servants who had rushed to the spot found nobody there; when it was heard a third time they were thoroughly frightened and hastened to inform their master. the latter went to the door and there saw the well-remembered form of his nightly visitor, who told him that he would die in eight days. he told his friends and his family what had happened, but only met with laughter, as he was in perfect health and nothing seemed more improbable than his sudden death. but as he sat, on the eighth day, at table with his family, a book was mentioned which he wished to see, and he got up to look for it in his library. instantly a shot is heard; the guests rush out and find him lying on the floor and weltering in his blood. upon inquiry it appeared that a man, desperately in love with the chamber-maid and jealous of a rival, had mistaken the president for the latter and murdered him with a pistol (de ségur, _galérie morale et politique_, p. ). among the numerous accounts of visions which seem to have been caused by an instinctive and perfectly unconscious perception of human remains, the story of the rev. mr. lindner, in königsberg, is perhaps the best authenticated, and from the character of the man to whom the revelation was made, the most trustworthy. it is fully reported by professor ehrmann of strasburg, in _kies. archiv._ x. iii., p. . the minister, a modest, pious man, awoke in the middle of the night, and saw, by the bright moonlight which was shining into the room, another minister in gown and bands, standing before his open bible, apparently searching for some quotation. he had a small child in his arms, and a larger child stood by his side. after some time spent in speechless astonishment, mr. lindner exclaimed: "all good spirits praise god!" whereupon the stranger turned round, went up to him and offered three times to shake hands with him. mr. lindner, however, refused to do so, gazing at the same time intently at his features, and after a while he found himself looking at the air, for all had disappeared. it was a long time afterwards, when sauntering through the cloisters of his church, he was suddenly arrested by a portrait which bore all the features of the minister he had seen on that night. it was one of his predecessors in office, who had died nearly fifty years ago in rather bad odor, reports having been current at the time, as very old men still living testified, that he had had several illegitimate children, of whose fate nothing was known. but there was a still further sequel to the minister's strange adventure. in the course of the next year his study was enlarged, and for that purpose the huge german stove had to be removed; to the horror of the workmen and of mr. lindner, who was promptly called to the spot, the remains of several children were found carefully concealed beneath the solid structure. as there is no reason to suspect self-delusion in the reverend man, and the vision cannot well be ascribed to any outward cause, it must be presumed that his sensitive nature was painfully affected by the skeletons in his immediate neighborhood, and that this unconscious feeling, acting through his imagination, gave form and shape to the impressions made upon his nerves. in another case the principal person was a candidate of divinity, billing, well known as being of a highly sensitive disposition and given to hallucinations; the extreme suffering which the presence of human remains caused to his whole system had been previously already observed. the great german fabulist, pfeffel, a blind man, once took billing's arm and went with him into the garden to take an airing. the poet noticed that when they came to a certain place, the young man hesitated and his arm trembled as if it had received an electric shock. when he was asked what was the matter, he replied, "oh, nothing!" but upon passing over the spot a second time, the same tremor made itself felt. pressed by pfeffel, the young man at last acknowledged that he experienced at that spot the sensation which the presence of a corpse always produced in him, and offered to go there with the poet at night in order to prove to him the correctness of his feelings. when the two friends went to the garden after dark, billing perceived at once a faint glimmer of light above the spot. he stopped at a distance of about ten yards, and after a while declared that he saw a female figure hovering above the place, about five feet high, with the right arm across her bosom and the left hand hanging down by her side. when the poet advanced and stood on the fatal spot, the young man affirmed that the image was on his right or his left, before or behind him, and when pfeffel struck around him with his cane, it produced the effect as if he were cutting through a flame which instantly reunited. the same phenomena were witnessed a second time by a number of pfeffel's relations. several days afterwards, while the young man was absent, the poet caused the place in the garden to be dug up, and at a depth of several feet, beneath a layer of lime, a human skeleton was discovered. it was removed, the hole filled up, and all smoothed over again. after billing's return the poet took him once more into the garden, and this time the young man walked over the fatal spot without experiencing the slightest sensation (_kieser, archiv._, etc., p. ). it was this remarkable experience which led baron reichenbach to verify it by leading one of his sensitive patients, a miss reichel, at night to the great cemetery of vienna. as soon as she reached the place she perceived everywhere a sea of flames, brightest over the new graves, weaker over others, and quite faint here and there. in a few cases these lights reached a height of nearly four feet, but generally they had more the appearance of luminous mists, so that her hand, held over the place where she saw one, seemed to be enveloped in a cloud of fire. she was in no way troubled by the phenomena, which she had often previously observed, and baron reichenbach thought he saw in them a confirmation of his theory about the od-light. there can be, however, little doubt that the luminous appearance, perceptible though it be only to unusually sensitive persons, is the result of chemical decomposition, which has a peculiar influence over these persons. hence, no doubt, the numerous accounts of will-o'-the-wisps and ghostly lights seen in graveyards; the frightened beholder is nearly always laughed at or heartily abused, and more than one poor child has fallen a victim to the absurd theory of "curing it of foolish fears." there can be no doubt that light does appear flickering above churchyards, and that there is something more than mere idle superstition in the "corpse-candles" of the welsh and in the "elf-candles" of the scotch, which are seen, with foreboding weight, in the house of sickness, betokening near dissolution. at the same time, it is well known that living persons also have, under certain circumstances, given out light, and especially from their head. the cases of moses, whose face shone with unbearable brightness, and of the martyr stephen, are familiar to all, and the halo with which artists surround the heads of saints bears eloquent evidence of the universal and deeply-rooted belief. but science also has fully established the fact that light appears as a real and unmistakable luminous efflux from the human body, alike in health and in mortal sickness. by far the most common case of such emission of light is the emission of sparks from the hair when combed. before and during the electrical "dust-storms" in india, this phenomenon is of frequent occurrence in the hair of both sexes. in dry weather, and when the hair also is dry, and especially immediately before thunderstorms, the same sparks are seen in all countries. dr. phipson mentions the case of a relative of his, "whose hair (exactly one yard and a quarter long), when combed somewhat rapidly with a black gutta-percha comb, emits sheets of light upward of a foot in length," the light being "composed of hundreds of small electric sparks, the snapping noise of which is distinctly heard." but electric light is sometimes given off by the human body itself, not merely from the hair. a memorable instance of this phenomenon is recorded by dr. kane in the journal of his last voyage to the polar regions. he and a companion, petersen, had gone to sleep in a hut during intense cold, and on awaking in the night, found, to their horror, that their lamp--their only hope--had gone out. petersen tried in vain to get light from a pocket-pistol, and then kane resolved to take the pistol himself. "it was so intensely dark," he says, "that i had to grope for it, and in so doing, i touched his hand. at that instant the pistol--in petersen's hand--became distinctly visible. a pale bluish light, slightly tremulous, but not broken, covered the metallic parts of it. the stock, too, was distinctly visible as if by reflected light, and to the amazement of both of us, also the thumb and two fingers with which petersen was holding it--the creases, wrinkles and circuit of nails being clearly defined upon the skin. as i took the pistol my hand became illuminated also." this luminous and doubtless electric phenomenon took place in highly exceptional circumstances, and is the only case recorded in recent times. but a far more remarkable phenomenon of a similar kind is mentioned by bartholin, who gives an account of a lady in italy, whom he rightly styles _mulier splendens_, whose body became phosphorescent--or rather shone with electric radiations--when slightly rubbed with a piece of dry linen. in this case the luminosity appears to have been normal, certainly very frequent under ordinary circumstances, and the fact is well attested. mr. b. h. patterson mentions in the journal _belgravia_ (oct., ), that he saw the flannel with which he had rubbed his body, emit blue sparks, while at the same time he heard a "crackling" sound. these facts prove that the human body even in ordinary life, is capable of giving out luminous undulations, while science teaches us that they appear quite frequently in disease. here again, dr. phipson mentions several cases as the result of his reading. one of these is that of a woman in milan, during whose illness a so-called phosphoric light glimmered about her bed. another remarkable case is recorded by dr. marsh, in a volume on the "evolution of light from the human subject," and reads thus: "about an hour and a half before my sister's death, we were struck by luminous appearances proceeding from her head in a diagonal direction. she was at the time in a half-recumbent position, and perfectly tranquil. the light was pale as the moon, but quite evident to mamma, myself, and sisters, who were watching over her at the time. one of us at first thought it was lightning, till shortly afterwards we perceived a sort of tremulous glimmer playing around the head of the bed, and then, recollecting that we had read something of a similar nature having been observed previous to dissolution, we had candles brought into the room, fearing that our dear sister would perceive the luminosity, and that it might disturb the tranquillity of her last moments." the other case relates to an irish peasant, and is recorded from personal observation by dr. donovan, in the _dublin medical press_, in , as follows: "i was sent to see harrington in december. he had been under the care of my predecessor, and had been entered as a phthisical patient. he was under my care for about five years, and i had discontinued my visits, when the report became general that mysterious lights were seen every night in his cabin. the subject attracted a great deal of attention. i determined to submit the matter to the ordeal of my own senses, and for this purpose i visited the cabin for fourteen nights. on three nights only i witnessed anything unusual. once i perceived a luminous fog resembling the aurora borealis; and twice i saw scintillations like the sparkling phosphorescence exhibited by sea-infusoria. from the close scrutiny i made, i can with certainty say, that no imposition was either employed or attempted." the only explanation ever offered by competent authority of the luminous radiations from persons in disease, ascribes them to an efflux or escape of the nerve-force, which is known to be kindred in its nature to electricity, transmuting itself into luminosity as it leaves the body. the seeress of prevorst reported that she saw the nerves as shining threads, and even from the eyes of some persons rays of light seemed to her to flash continually. other somnambulists also, as well as mesmerized persons, have seen the hair of persons shine with a multitude of sparks, while the breath of their mouth appeared as a faint luminous mist. the same luminosity is, finally, perceived at times in graveyards, and would, no doubt, have led to careful investigation more frequently, if observers had not so often been suspected of superstitious apprehensions. in the case of baron reichenbach's patients, however, no such difficulty was to be feared; they saw invariably light, bluish flames hovering over many graves, and what made the phenomena more striking still, was the fact that these moving lights were only seen on recent graves, as if naturally dependent upon the process of decomposition. if we connect this with our experience of luminosity seen in decaying vegetables, in spoiled meat, and in diseased persons, we shall be prepared to believe that even so-called ghost stories, in which mysterious lights play a prominent part, are by no means necessarily without foundation. cases in which deceased persons have made themselves known to survivors, or have produced, by some as yet unexplained agency, an impression upon them through other senses than the sight, are very rare. occasionally, however, the hearing is thus affected, and sweet music is heard, in token, as it were, of the continued intercourse between the dead and the living. one instance may serve as an illustration. the countess a. had all her life been remarkable for the strange delight she took in clocks; not a room in her castle but had its large or small clock, and all these she insisted upon winding up herself at the proper time. her favorite, however, was a very curious and most costly clock in her sitting-room, which had the form of a gothic church, and displayed in the steeple a small dial, behind which the works were concealed; at the full hour a hymn was played by a kind of music-box attached to the mechanism. she allowed no one to touch this clock, and used to sit before it, as the hand approached the hour, waiting for the hymn to be heard. at last she was taken ill and confined for seven weeks, during which the clock could not be wound up, and then she died. for special reasons the interment had to take place on the evening of the next day, and, as the castle was far from any town, the preparations took so much time that it was nearly midnight before the body could be moved from the bedroom to the drawing-room, where the usual ceremonies were to be performed. the transfer was accomplished under the superintendence of her husband, who followed the coffin, and in the presence of a large number of friends and dependents, while the minister led the sad cortége. at the moment when the coffin approached the favorite clock, it suddenly began to strike; but instead of twelve, it gave out thirteen strokes, and then followed the melody of a well-known hymn: "let us with boldness now proceed on the dark path to a new life." the minister, who happened to have been sitting a little while before by the count's side, just beneath the clock, and had mournfully noticed its silence after so many years, was thunderstruck, and could not recover his self-control for some time. the count, on the contrary, saw in the accident a solemn warning from on high, and henceforth laid aside the frivolity which he had so far shown in his life as well as in his principles ("evening post" [germ.], . no. ). there are finally certain phenomena belonging to this part of magic, which have been very generally attributed to an agency in which natural forces and supernatural beings held a nearly equal share. they suggest the interesting but difficult question, whether visions and ecstasy can extend to large numbers of men at once? and yet without some such supposition the armies in the clouds, the wild huntsman of the ardennes, and like appearances cannot well be explained. here also no little weight must be attached to ancient superstitions which have become, as it were, a part of a nation's faith. thus all northern germany has from the earliest days been familiar with the idea of the great woden ranging through its dark forests, at the head of the walkyries and the heroes fallen in battle, while his wolves and his raven followed him on his nightly course. when christianity changed the old gods of the german race into devils and demons, woden became very naturally the wild huntsman, who was now escorted by men of violence, bloody tyrants, and criminals, often grievously mutilated or altogether headless. there can be little doubt but that these visions also rested upon some natural substructure: exceptional atmospheric disturbances, hurricanes coming from afar and crashing through mighty forests, or even the modest tramp of a band of poachers heard afar off, under favorable circumstances by timid ears. the very fact that the favorite time for such phenomena is the winter solstice favors this supposition. they are, however, by no means limited to seasons and days, for as late as a number of wheat-cutters left in a panic the field in which they were engaged, because they believed they heard frau holle with her hellish company, and saw faithful eckhard, as he walked steadily before the procession, warning all he met to stand aside and escape from the fatal sight. an occurrence of the kind, which took place in , was fortunately fully explained by careful observers: the cause was an immense flock of wild geese, whose strange cries resembled in a surprising manner the barking of a pack of hounds during a hunt. another occurrence during the night of january , , threw the whole neighborhood of basle in switzerland into painful consternation. the air was suddenly filled with a multitude of whining voices, whose agony pierced the hearts of all who heard them; men and beasts seemed to be suffering unutterable anguish, and to be driven with furious speed from the mountain-side into a valley near magden; here all ended in an instant amid rolling thunder and fearful flashes of lightning. a fierce storm arising in distant clefts and crevices, and carrying possibly fragments of rock, ice, and moraine along with it, seems here to have been the determining cause. another class of phenomena of this kind relates to the great battles that have at times decided the fate of the world. thus pausanias already tells us ("attica," ), and so do other historians of greece, how the plain of marathon resounded for nearly four centuries every year with the clash of arms and the cries of soldiers. it was evidently the deep and lasting impression made upon a highly sensitive nation, which here was bequeathed from generation to generation, and on the day of the battle, when all was excitement, resulted in the perception of sounds which had no real existence. events of such colossal proportions, which determine in a few hours the fate of great nations, leave naturally a powerful impress upon contemporaries not only, but also upon the children of that race. such was, among others, the fearful battle on the catalaunian fields, in which the visi-goths and aetius conquered attila, and one hundred and sixty-two thousand warriors were slain. it was at the time reported that the intense bitterness and exasperation of the armies continued even after the battle, and that for three days the spirits of the fallen were contending with each other with unabated fury. the report grew into a legend, till a firm belief was established that the battle was fought year after year on the memorable day, and that any visitor might behold the passionate spirits as they rose from their graves, armed with their ancient weapons and filled with undiminished fury. one by one the soldiers of the two armies, it was said, leave their lowly graves, rise high into the air, and engage in deadly but silent strife, till they vanish in the clouds. it is well known how successfully the great german painter, kaulbach, has reproduced the vision in his magnificent fresco of the "hunnenschlacht." in other countries these ghostly visions assume different forms. thus the neighborhood of kerope, in livonia, is in like manner renowned for a long series of fearful butcheries during the wars between the german knights and the muscovites. there also, night after night, the shadowy battle is fought over again; but the clashing of arms and the hoarse war-cries are distinctly heard, and the pious traveler hastens away from the blood-soaked plains, uttering his prayers for the souls of the slain. in the highlands of scotland also, and on the adjoining islands, most weird and gruesome sights have been watched by young and old in every generation. the dark, dismal atmosphere of those regions, the dense fogs and impenetrable mists, now rising from the sea, and now descending from the mountains, and the fierce, inclement climate, have all combined for ages to predispose the mind for the perception of such strange and mysterious phenomena. nearly every clan and every family has its own particular ghost, and besides these the whole nation claims a number of common visions and prophetic spirits, whose harps and wild songs are heard faintly and fearfully sounding on high. a friend of mr. martin, the author of a work on "second sight," used to recite several stanzas belonging to such a prophetic song, which he had heard himself on a sad november day, as it came to him through the drooping clouds and sweeping mists from the summit of a lonely mountain. at funerals also, wonderful voices were heard high in the air, as they accompanied the chanting of the people below, with a music not born upon earth, and filling the heart with strange but sweet sadness. nearly the same visions are seen and the same songs are heard in sweden and norway, proving conclusively that like climatic influences produce also a similar magic life, in individuals not only, but in whole nations. for even if we are disposed to look upon these phenomena as merely strange appearances of clouds and mists, accompanied by the howling and whistling of the wind and the tumbling down of rocks and gravel, there remains the uniformity with which thousands of every generation interpret these sights and sounds into weird visions and solemn chantings. it is, however, not quite so evident why the peculiar class of visions which is often erroneously called second sight--the beholding of a "double"--should be almost entirely confined to these same northern regions. it is, of course, not unknown to other lands also, and even holy writ seems to justify the presumption that the idea of a "double" was familiar to the people of palestine. for the poor damsel rhoda, who "for gladness" did not open the door at which peter knocked, after he had been miraculously liberated, but ran to announce his presence to the friends who were assembled at the house of mark's brother, was first called mad, and then told: "it is his angel" (acts xii. ). they evidently meant, not that it was the spirit of their deceased friend, since they would have been made aware of his death, but a phantom representing his living body. but the number of authentic cases of persons who have seen their own form, is vastly greater at the north than anywhere else. the celtic superstition of the "fetch," as the appearance of a person's "double" is there called, is too well known to require explanation. but the vision itself is one of the most interesting in the study of magic, since it exhibits most strikingly the great power which the human soul may, under peculiar circumstances, gain and exercise over its own self, leading to complete self-delusion. a case in which this strange abdication of all self-control led to most desirable consequences, is mentioned by dr. mayo. a young man recently from oxford once saw a friend of his enter the room in which he was dining with some companions. the new comer, just returning from hunting, seemed to them to look unusually pale and was evidently in a state of great excitement. after much urging he at last confessed that he had been seriously disturbed in mind by a man who had kept him close company all the way home. this stranger, on horseback like himself, had been his exact image, down to a new bridle, his own invention, which he had tried that day for the first time. he fancied that this "double" was his own ghost and an omen of his impending death. his friends advised him to confer with the head of his college; this was done, and the latter gave him much good advice, adding the hope that the warning would not be allowed to pass unimproved. it is certain that the apparition made so strong an impression upon the young man as to lead to his entire reformation, at least for a time. it is claimed by many writers that there are persons who continually have visions, because they live in constant communication with spirits, although in all cases they have to pay a fearful penalty for this sad privilege. they are invariably diseased people, mostly women, who fall into trances, have cataleptic attacks, or suffer of even more painful maladies, and during the time of their affliction behold and converse with the inmates of another world. the most renowned of these seers was a mrs. hauffe, who has become well known to the reading world through dr. j. kerner's famous work, "the seeress of prevorst." a peculiar feature in her case was the fact that the visions she had were invariably announced to bystanders by peculiar sounds, heard by all who were present. the forms assumed by her mysterious visitors varied almost infinitely; now it was a man in a brown gown, and now a woman in white. often, when the spirits appeared in the open air, and she tried to escape from them by running, she was bodily lifted up and hurried along so fast that her companions could not keep pace with her. it was only later in life that she fell as a patient into the hands of dr. kerner, who was quite distinguished as a poet, and had a great renown as a physician for insane people of a special class. his house at weinsberg in würtemberg, was filled to overflowing with persons of all classes of society, from the highest to the lowest, and all had visions. nor was the doctor himself excluded; he also was a seer, and has given in the above-mentioned book a full and most interesting account of the diseases in connection with which magic phenomena are most frequently observed. by the aid of careful observation of actual facts, and using such revelations vouchsafed to him and others as he believed fully trustworthy, he formed a regular theory of visions. first of all he admits that the privilege of communing with spirits is a grievous affliction, and that all of his more thoughtful patients continually prayed to be delivered of the burden. it is evident from all he states that not only the body, but the mind also suffers--and in many cases suffers unto destruction--under the effects of such exceptional powers; that in fact the lines of separation between this life and another life can never be crossed with impunity. his most interesting patient, mrs. hauffe, presents the usual mixture of mere fanciful imagery with occasional flashes of truth; her genuine revelations were marvelous, and can only be explained upon the ground of real magic; but with them are mixed up the most absurd theories and the most startling contradictions. she insisted, however, upon the fact that only those spirits could commune with mortal man who were detained in the middle realm--between heaven and hell--the spirits of men who were in this life unable, though not unwilling, to believe that "god could forgive their sins for the sake of christ's death." she was often tried by dr. kerner and others; she was told that certain still living persons had died, and asked to summon their spirits, but she was never misled. there can be no doubt that the poor woman was sincere in her statements; but she was apparently unable to distinguish between real visions in a trance and the mere offspring of her imagination. that her peculiarities were closely connected with her bodily condition is, moreover, proved by the fact that her whole family suffered in similar manner and enjoyed similar powers; a brother and a sister, as well as her young son, all had visions and heard mysterious noises. the latter were, in fact, perceptible to all the inmates of the strange house; even the great skeptic, dr. strausz, who once visited it, heard "long, fearful groanings" close to his amiable hostess, who had fallen asleep on her sofa. nor were the ghosts content with disturbing the patients and their excellent physician; they made themselves known to their friends and neighbors, also, and even the good minister in the little town had much to suffer from nightly knockings and strange utterances. dr. kerner himself heard many spirits, but saw only one, and that only as "a grayish pillar;" on the other hand he witnessed countless mysterious phenomena which occurred in his patients' bedrooms. now he beheld mrs. hauffe's boots pulled off by invisible hands, while she herself was lying almost inanimate, in a trance, on her bed, and now he heard her reveal secrets which, upon writing to utterly unknown persons at a great distance, proved to be correctly stated. what makes a thorough investigation of all these phenomena peculiarly difficult, is the fact that dr. kerner's house became an asylum for somnambulists as well as for real patients, and that by this mixture the scientific value of his observations, as regards their psychological interest, is seriously impaired. he himself was a sincere believer in magic phenomena; almost all of his friends and neighbors, from the humblest peasant to the most cultivated men of science, believed in him and his statements, and there can be no doubt that astonishing revelations were made and extraordinary powers became manifest in his house. but here, also, the difficulty of separating the few grains of truth from the great mass of willful, as well as of unconscious delusion, is almost overwhelming, and our final judgment must be held in suspense, till more light has been thrown on the subject. dr. kerner's son, who succeeded his father at his death in , still keeps up the remarkable establishment at weinsberg; but exclusively for the cure of certain diseases by magnetism. vi. divination. "there shall not be found among you any one that useth divination." --deut. xviii. . the usual activity of our mind is limited to the perception of the world around us, and its life, as far as the power of our senses reaches; it must, therefore, necessarily be confined within the limits of space and time. there are, however, specially favored men among us who profess an additional power, or even ordinary men may be thus endowed under peculiar circumstances, as when they are under the influence of nervous affections, trances, or even merely in an unusual state of excitement. then they are no longer subject to the usual laws of distance in space, or remoteness in time; they perceive as immediately present what lies beyond the reach of others, and the magic power by which this is accomplished is called divination. this vision is never quite clear, nor always complete or correct, for even such exceptionable powers are in all cases more or less subject to the imperfections of our nature; habitual notions, an ill-executed imagination, and often a disordered state of the system, all interfere with its perfect success. these imperfections, moreover, not only affect the value of such magic perceptions, but obscure the genuine features by a number of false statements and of erroneous impressions, which quite legitimately excite a strong prejudice against the whole subject. hence, especially, the rigor of the church against divination in every form; it has ever ascribed the errors mixed up with the true parts of such revelations to the direct influence of the evil one. the difficulty, however, arises that such magic powers have nothing at all to do with the question of morality; the saint and the criminal may possess them alike, since they are elements of our common nature, hidden in the vast majority of cases, and coming into view and into life only in rare exceptional instances. divination, as freed from the ordinary limits of our perceptions, appears either as clairvoyance, when things are seen which are beyond the range of natural vision, or as prophecy, when the boundary lines of time are overstepped. the latter appears again in its weakest form as a mere anticipation of things to come, or rises to perfection in the actual foretelling of future events. it is sad enough to learn from the experience of all nations that the occurrences thus foreseen are almost invariably great misfortunes, yet our surprise will cease if we remember that the tragic in life exercises by far the greatest influence on our mind, and excites it far beyond all other events. nor must we overlook the marvelous unanimity with which such magic powers are admitted to exist in man by all nations on earth. the explanation, also, is invariably the same, namely, that man possessed originally the command over space and time as well as god himself, but that when sin came into the world and affected his earth-born body, this power was lost, and preserved only to appear in exceptional and invariably most painful cases. so thought the ancients even long before revelation had spoken. they believed that man had had a previous god-like existence before appearing upon earth, where he was condemned to expiate the sins of his former life, while his immortal and divine soul was chained to a perishing earthy body. plato, plutarch, and pythagoras, cicero (in his book _de divinatione_), and even porphyrius, all admit without hesitation the power of divination, and speak of its special vigor in the moments preceding death. melanchthon ascribed warning dreams to the prophetic power of the human soul. brierre de boismont also is forced to admit that not all cases of clairvoyance and prophesying are the results of hallucination by diseased persons; he speaks, on the contrary, and in spite of his bitter skepticism, of instances in which the increased powers of perception are the effect of "supernatural intuition." one of the most prolific sources of error in divination has ever been the variety of means employed for the purpose of causing the preparatory state of trance. it is well known in our day that the mind may be most strangely affected by innumerable agencies which are apparently purely mechanical, and often utterly absurd. such are an intent gazing at highly-polished surfaces of metal, or into the bright inside of a gold cup, at the shining sides of a crystal, or the varying hues of a glass globe; now vessels filled with pure water, and now ink poured into the hand of a child, answer the same purpose. fortune-telling from the lines of the hand or the chance combinations of playing-cards are, in this aspect, on a par with the prophecies of astrologers drawn from the constellations in the heavens. it need hardly be added that this almost infinite variety of more or less absurd measures has nothing at all to do with the awaking of magic power, and continues in use only from the prestige which some of the means, like the cup of joseph and the mirror of varro, derive from their antiquity. their sole purpose is uniformly to withdraw the seer's attention from all outward objects, and to make him, by steadily gazing at one and the same object, concentrate his thoughts and feelings exclusively upon his own self. experience has taught that such efforts, long continued, result finally in utter loss of feeling, in unconsciousness, and frequently even in catalepsy. it is generally only under such peculiarly painful circumstances that the unusual powers of our being can become visible and begin to operate. while these results may be obtained, as recent experiments have proved, even by mere continued squinting, barbarous nations employ the most violent means for the same purpose--the whirling of dervishes, the drumming and dancing of northern shamans, the deafening music of the moors, are all means of the same kind to excite the rude and fierce nature of savages to a state of excessive excitement. in all cases, however, we must notice the comparative sterility of such divination, and the penalty which has to be paid for most meagre results by injuries inflicted upon the body, and by troubles caused in the mind, which, if they do not become fatal to life, are invariably so to happiness and peace. that the sad privilege may have to be paid for with life itself, we learn already from plutarch's account of a priestess who became so furious while prophesying, that not only the strangers but the priests themselves fled in dismay, while she herself expired a few hours later (ii. p. ). the state in which all forms of divination are most apt to show themselves is by theologians called _ecstasis_, when it is caused by means specially employed for the purpose and appears as a literally "being beside one's self"; by its side they speak of _raptus_, when the abnormal state suddenly begins during an act of ordinary life, such as walking, working, or even praying. the distinction is of no value as to the nature of the magic powers themselves, which are in all cases the same; it refers exclusively to the outer form. one of the simplest methods is the deasil-walking of the scotch highlanders: the seer walks rapidly three times, with the sun, around the person whose future is to be foretold, and thus produces a trance, in which his magic powers become available. walter scott's "chronicles of the canongate" gives a full account of this ceremony. robin oig's aunt performs the ceremony, and then warns him in great terror, that she has seen a bloody dagger in his hand, stained with english blood, and beseeches him to stay at home. he disregards the omen, kills the same night an englishman, a cattle-dealer, and pays for the crime with his life. in the east, on the contrary, the usual form is to employ a young boy, taken at haphazard from the street, and to force him to gaze intently at indian ink poured into the hollow of the hand, at molten lead, wax poured into cold water, the paten of a priest or a shining sword, with which several men have been killed. general readers will recall the famous boy of cairo, who saw thus, in the dark, glittering surface of ink, the great nelson--curiously enough as in a mirror, for he reported the image to be without the left arm and to wear the left sleeve across the breast, while the great admiral had lost his right arm and wore the right sleeve suspended. burke, in his amusing "anecdotes of the aristocracy," etc. (i. p. ), relates how the "magician" magraubin in alexandria appeared with a ten-year-old coptic boy before the officers of h. m's. ship _vanguard_. after burning much incense and uttering many unintelligible formulas he rolled a paper in the shape of a cornucopia, filled it with ink, and bade the boy tell them what he saw. as usual, he saw first a broom sweeping, and was thoroughly frightened. when a young midshipman asked him to inquire what would be his fate, he described instantly a sailor with gold on the shoulders, fighting against indians till he fell dead; then came friends and buried him under a tree on a hill. the midshipman, croker, returned home, abandoned the sea, and became a landowner in one of the midland counties of england, where he often laughed at the absurd prediction. long years afterwards, however, when there was a sudden want of seamen, he was recalled into service and sent on a long cruise. he rose to become a captain, and while in command of a frigate fell, upon the island of tongataboo, in a skirmish with the natives, whereupon he was interred there under a lofty palm-tree which stood on a commanding eminence. the same author repeats (i. p. ) the well-known story of lady eleanor campbell, which is in substance as follows: poor lady primrose, a daughter of the second earl of loudoun, had for years endured the saddest lot that can befall a noble woman: she had been bound by marriage to a husband whose dissolute habits and untamable passions inspired her with fear, while his short love for her had long since turned into bitter hatred. at last he formed the resolution to rid himself forever of his wife, whose very piety and gentleness were a standing reproof to his villainy. by a rare piece of good luck she was awake when he came from his deep potations, a bare sword in his hand, and ready to kill her; she saw him in the mirror before which she happened to be sitting, and escaped by jumping from a window and hastening to her husband's own mother. after this attempt at her life he disappeared, no one knew whither, but the poor lady, forsaken and yet not a widow, could not prevent her thoughts from dwelling, by day and by night, year after year, upon the image of her unfortunate husband and his probable fate in foreign lands. it was, therefore, not without a pardonable interest that she heard, one winter, people talk of a foreigner who had suddenly appeared in canongate and created a great sensation throughout edinburgh by his success in showing to inquiring visitors what their absent friends were doing. her intense anxiety about her husband and her natural desire to ascertain whether she was still a wife or already a widow, combined to tempt her to call on the magician; she went, therefore, with a friend, both disguised in the tartans and plaids of their maids. before they reached the obscure alley to which they had been directed, they lost their way, and were standing helpless, exposed to the cold, stormy weather, when suddenly a deep voice said to them: "you are mistaken, ladies, this is not your way!" "how so?" asked lady primrose, addressing a tall, gentlemanly looking man, with a stern face of deep olive color, in which a pair of black eyes shone like stars, and dressed in an elegant but foreign-looking costume. the answer came promptly: "you are mistaken in your way, because it lies yonder, and in your disguise, because it does not conceal you from him who can lift the veil of the future!" then followed a short conversation in which the stranger made himself known as the magician whom they were about to visit, and, by some words whispered into the lady's ear, as a man who not only recognized her as lady primrose, but who also was perfectly well acquainted with all the intimate details of her history. amazed and not a little frightened, the two ladies accepted his courteous invitation to follow him, entered the house, and were shown into a simply furnished room, where the stranger begged them to wait for him, till all was ready for the ceremony by which alone he could satisfy their curiosity. after a short pause he reappeared in the traditional costume of a magician, a long tunic of black velvet which left his breast, arms, and hands free, and requested lady primrose to follow him into the adjoining room. after some little hesitation she left her companion and entered the room, which was perfectly plain, offering nothing to attract the eye save the dark curtains before the windows, an old-fashioned arm-chair, and a kind of altar of black marble, over which a large and beautiful mirror was suspended. before the latter stood a small oven, in which some unknown substance burnt with a blue light, which alone feebly lighted up the room. the visitor was requested to sit down, to invoke help from above, and to abstain from uttering a sound, if she valued her life and that of the magician. after some simple but apparently most important ceremonies, the magician threw a pinch of red powder upon the flame, which instantly changed into bright crimson, while a few plaintive sounds were heard and red clouds seemed to rise before the mirror, broken at short intervals by vivid flashes of lightning. as the mist dispersed the glass exhibited to the lady's astonished eye the interior of a church, first in vague outlines undulating as passing clouds seemed to set them in motion, but soon distinctly and clear in the minutest details. then a priest appeared with his acolytes at the altar, and a wedding party was seen standing before him, among whom lady primrose soon recognized her faithless husband. before she could recover from her painful surprise she saw a stranger hastily entering the church, wrapped in his cloak; at the moment when the priest, who had been performing the usual ceremony, was about to join the hands of the couple before him, the unknown dropped his cloak and rushed forward. lady primrose saw it was her own brother, who drew his sword and attacked her husband; suddenly a thrust was made by the latter which threatened to be fatal, and the poor lady cried out: "great god, they will kill my brother!" she had no sooner uttered these words than the whole scene in the mirror became dim and blurred, the clouds rose again and formed dense masses, and soon the glass resumed its ordinary brightness and the flame its faint blue color. the magician, apparently much excited, informed the lady that all was over, and that they had escaped a most fearful danger, incurred by her imprudence in speaking. he would accept no reward, stating that he had merely wished to oblige her, but would not have dared do so much, if he had foreseen the peril to which they had both been exposed. lady primrose, accompanied by her friend, reached home in a state of extreme excitement, but immediately wrote down the hour and the day of her strange adventure, with a full account of all she had seen in the magic mirror. the paper thus drawn up she sealed in the presence of her companion and hid it in a secret drawer. not long afterwards her brother returned from the continent, but for some time refused to speak at all of her husband; it was only after being long and urgently pressed by the poor lady, that he consented to tell her, how he had heard of lord primrose's intention to marry a very wealthy lady in amsterdam, how by mere chance he had entered the church where the marriage ceremony was to be performed, and how he had come out just in time to prevent his brother-in-law from committing bigamy. they had fought for a few minutes without doing each other any injury, and after being separated, he had remained, while lord primrose had disappeared, no one knew whither. upon comparing dates and circumstances, it appeared that the mirror had presented the scene faithfully in all its details; but the ceremony had taken place in the morning, the visit to the magician at night, so that the latter had, after all, only revealed an event already completed. there remains, however, the difficulty of accounting for the means by which in those days--about --an event in amsterdam could possibly have been known in edinburgh, the night of the same day on which it occurred. in france, under louis xiv., a glass of water was most frequently used as a mirror in which to read the future. the duke of st. simon reports that the duke of orleans was thus informed that he would one day become regent of france. the abbé choisy mentions a remarkable occurrence which took place at the house of the countess of soissons, a niece of the great cardinal mazarin. her husband was lying sick in the province of champagne, and she was anxious to know whether she ought to undertake the long and perilous journey to him or not; in this dilemma a friend offered to send for a diviner, who should tell her the issue of her husband's illness. he brought her a little girl, five years old, who, in the presence of a number of distinguished persons of both sexes, began, under the nobleman's direction, to tell what she saw in a glass of water. when she began by saying that the water looked as if it were troubled, the poor lady was so frightened that her friend suggested he would ask the spirit to show the child not her husband himself, but a white horse, if the count was dead, and a tiger if he was alive. then he asked the girl what she saw now? "ah!" she cried out at once, "what a pretty white horse!" the company, however, refused to be content with one trial; five times in succession the test was altered, and in such a manner that the little child could not possibly be aware of the choice, but in each case the answer was unfavorable to the absent count. it appeared, afterwards, that he had really died a day or two before the consultation. one of the most striking cases of such exceptional endowment was a frenchman, cahagnet, who in his work, _lumière des morts_ (paris, ), claimed to see remote objects and persons. he used to make a mental effort, upon which his eyes became fixed and he saw objects at a great distance, reading the title and discerning the precise shape of books in public libraries, or watching absent friends engaged in unusual occupations! this state of clairvoyance, however, never lasted more than sixty seconds, nor could he ever see the same object twice--limitations of his endowment which secured for him greater credit than he would have otherwise possessed. occasionally he would assist the effort he had to make by fixedly gazing at some shining object, such as a small flaw in a mirror or a glass. another restraint under which he labored, and which yet increased the faith of others, consisted in this, that such sights as presented themselves spontaneously to him proved invariably to be true, while the visions which he purposely evoked were not unfrequently unfounded in fact. among recent magicians of this class, a parisian, edmond, is perhaps the most generally known. he is a man without education, who leads a life of asceticism, and is said to equal the famous lennormand in his ability to guess the future by gazing intently at certain cards. the latter, although not free from the charge of charlatanism, possessed undoubtedly the most extraordinary talent of divining the thoughts of those who came to consult her, and an almost marvelous tact in connecting the knowledge thus obtained with the events of the day. she began her career already as a young girl at a convent-school, where her playmates asked her laughing who would be the next abbess, and she mentioned an entirely unknown lady from picardy as the one that would be appointed by the king. contrary to all expectations the favorite candidates were put aside, and the unknown lady appointed, although eighteen months elapsed before her prophecy was fulfilled. as early as she predicted the overthrow of the french government, and during the revolution her reputation was such that the first men of the land came to consult her. the unfortunate princess lamballe and mirabeau, mme. de staël and the king himself, all appeared in her stately apartments. her efforts to save the queen, to whose prison she managed to obtain access, were unsuccessful; but when her aristocratic connections caused her to be imprisoned herself, even the noble and virtuous mme. tallien sought her society. the new dynasty, whose members were almost without exception more or less superstitious, as it is the nature of all corsicans, consulted her frequently; the great napoleon came to her in , when he was disgusted with france, and on the point of leaving the country; he sent for her a second time in to confer with her at malmaison, and the fair josephine actually conceived for her a deep and lasting attachment. afterwards, however, she became as obnoxious to the emperor as his inveterate enemy, mme. de staël; she was repeatedly sent to prison because she predicted failures, as in the case of the projected invasion of england, or because she revealed the secret plans of napoleon. the emperor alexander of russia also consulted her in , and of the prussian king, frederick william iii., it is at least reported that he visited her incognito. after the year she appeared but rarely in her character as a diviner; she had become old and rich, and did not perhaps wish to risk her world-wide reputation by too numerous revelations. she maintained, however, for the rest of her life the most intimate relations with many eminent men in france, and when she died, in , seventy-one years old, leaving to her nephew a very large fortune, her gorgeous funeral was attended by a host of distinguished personages, including even men of such character as guizot. and yet she also had not disdained to use the most absurd and apparently childish means in order to produce the state of ecstasy in which she alone could divine: playing-cards fancifully arranged, the white of an egg, the sediment of coffee, or the lines in the hand of her visitors. at the same time, however, she used the information which she casually picked up or purposely obtained from her great friends with infinite cunning and matchless tact, so that the better informed often asked her laughingly if her familiar spirit ariel was not also known as talleyrand, david, or geoffroy? the charlatanism which often and most justly rendered her proceedings suspicious to sober men, was in fact part of her system; she knew perfectly well the old doctrine, _mundus vult decipi_, and did not hesitate to flatter the fondness of all frenchmen for a theatrical _mise en scène_. dryden's famous horoscope of his younger son charles was probably nothing more than one of those rare but striking coincidences of which the laws of probability give us the exact value. he loved the study of astrology and never omitted to calculate the nativity of his children as soon as they were born. in the case of charles he discovered that great dangers would threaten him in his eighth, twenty-third, and thirty-third or forty-third year; and sure enough those years produced serious troubles. on his eighth birthday he was buried under a falling wall; on the twenty-third he fell in rome from an old tower, and on his thirty-third he was drowned in the thames. divination by means of bones--generally the shoulder bones of rams--is quite common among the mongols and tongoose, and the custom seems to have remained unchanged through centuries. for purchas already quotes from the "journal" of the minorite monk guillaume de rubruguis, written in , a description of the manner in which the great khan of mongolia tried to ascertain the result of any great enterprise which he might contemplate. three shoulder bones of rams were brought to him, which he held for some time in his hands, while deeply meditating on the subject; then he threw them into the fire. after they were burnt black they were again laid before him and examined; if they had cracked lengthways the omen was favorable, if crossways the enterprise was abandoned. almost identically the same process is described by the great traveler pallas, who witnessed it repeatedly and obtained very startling communications from the mongol priests. but here also violent dancing, narcotic perfumes, and wild cries had to aid in producing a trance. the laplanders have, perhaps, the most striking magic powers which seem to be above suspicion. at least we are assured by every traveler who has spent some time among them, from caspar peucer ("commentaries," etc., wittebergae, , p. ) down to the tourists of our days ("six months in lapland," ), that they not only see persons at the greatest distance, but furnish minute details as to their occupation or surroundings. after having invoked the aid of his gods the magician falls down like a dead man and remains in a state of trance for twenty-four hours, during which foreigners are always warned to have him carefully guarded, "lest the demons should carry him off." during this time the seer maintains that his "soul opens the gates of the body and moves about freely wherever it chooses to go." when he returns to consciousness he describes accurately and minutely the persons about whom he has promised to give information. in the east indies it is well known clairvoyance has existed from time immemorial, and the kind of trance which consists in utter oblivion of actual life and perfect abstraction of thought from this world is there carried out to perfection. the faithful believer sits or lies down in any position he may happen to prefer for the moment, fixes his eyes intently upon the point of his nose, mutters the word one, and finally beholds god with an inner sense, in the form of a white brilliant light of ineffable splendor. some of these ascetics pass from a simple trance to a state of catalepsy, in which their bodies become insensible to pain--but this kind of _ecstasis_ is not accompanied by divination. another branch of divination conquers the difficulty which distance in space opposes to our ordinary perceptions. in all such cases it is of course not our hearing or smelling which suddenly becomes miraculously powerful, but another magic power, which causes impressions on the mind like those produced by the eye and the ear. the oldest well-authenticated instance of magic hearing is probably that of hyrcanus, the high-priest of the jews, who while burning incense in the temple, heard a voice saying: "now antiochus has been slain by thy sons." the news was immediately proclaimed to the people, and some time afterward messengers came announcing that antiochus had thus perished as he approached samaria, which he desired to relieve from the besieging army under the sons of hyrcanus (josephus, "antiq." lxiii. ch. ). a still more striking instance is also reported by a trustworthy author (theophylactos simocata, l. viii. ch. ). a man in alexandria, egypt, saw, as he returned home about midnight, the statues before the great temple moved aside from their seats, and heard them call out to him that the emperor had been slain by phocas ( ). thoroughly frightened he hastened to the authorities, reporting his adventure; he was carried before peter, the viceroy of egypt, and ordered to keep silence. nine days later, however, the official news came that the emperor had been murdered. it is evident that the knowledge of the event came to him in some mysterious way, and for an unknown purpose; but that what he saw and heard, was purely the work of his imagination, which became the vehicle of the revelation. there exists a long, almost unbroken series of similar phenomena through the entire course of modern history, of which but a few can here find space. richelieu tells us in his _mémoires_ ("coll. michaud--poryoulat," d series, vii. p. ), that the _prévost des maréchaux_ of the city of pithiviers was one night engaged in playing cards in his house, when he suddenly hesitated, fell into a deep musing, and then, turning to his companions, said solemnly: "the king has just been murdered!" these words made a deep impression upon all the members of the assembly, which afterward changed into genuine terror, when it became known that on that same evening, at the same hour of four o'clock, p. m., henry iv. had really been murdered. nor was this a solitary case, for on the same day a girl of fourteen, living near the city of orleans, had asked her father, simonne, what a king was? upon his replying that it was the man who commanded all frenchmen, she had exclaimed: "great god, i have this moment heard somebody tell me that he was murdered!" it seems that the minds of men were just then everywhere deeply interested in the fate of the king, and hence their readiness to anticipate an event which was no doubt very generally apprehended; even from abroad numerous letters had been received announcing his death beforehand. in the two cases mentioned this excitement had risen to divination. the author of the famous _zauber bibliothek_, horst, mentions (i. p. ) that his father, a well-known missionary, was once traveling in company with the renowned hebrew scholar wiedemann, while a third companion, ordinarily engaged with them in converting jews, was out at sea. it was a fine, bright day; no rain or wind visible even at a distance. wiedemann had walked for some time in deep silence, apparently engaged in praying, when suddenly he stopped and said: "monsieur horst, take your diary and write down, that our companion is at this moment exposed to great peril by water. the storm will last till night and the danger will be fearful; but the lord will mercifully preserve him and the vessel, and no lives will be lost. write it down carefully, so that when our friend returns, we may jointly thank god for his great mercy." the missionary did so, and when the three friends were united once more their diaries were compared, and it appeared that the statement had been exact in all its details. clairvoyance, as far as it implies the seeing of persons or the witnessing of events at a great distance, is counted among the most frequent gifts of early saints, and st. augustine mentions a number of remarkable cases. not only absent friends and their fate were thus beheld by privileged christians, but even the souls of departing saints were seen as they were borne to heaven by angelic hosts. the same exceptional gifts were apparently granted to the early jesuit fathers; thus xavier once saw distinctly a whole naval expedition sailing against the pirates of malacca and defeating them in a great naval battle. he had himself caused the fleet to be sent from sumatra, and remained during the whole time in a trance. he had fallen down unconscious at the foot of the altar, where he had been fervently praying for a long time, and during his unconsciousness he saw not only a general image of what was occurring at a distance of portuguese leagues, but every detail, so that upon recovering from the trance he could announce to his brethren the good news of a great victory, of the loss of only three lives, and of the very day and hour on which the official report would be received (orlandini, l. vii. ch. ). queen margaret, not always reliable, still seems to state well-known facts only, when she tells us in her famous _mémoires_ (paris, ) the visions of her mother, the great queen catherine de medici. the latter was lying dangerously ill at metz, and king charles, a sister, and another brother of margaret of valois, the duke of lorraine, and a number of eminent persons of both sexes, were assembled around what was believed to be her death-bed. she was delirious, and suddenly cried out: "just see how they run! my son is victorious. great god! raise him up, he has fallen! do you see the prince of condé there? he is dead." everybody thought she was delirious, but on the next evening a messenger came bringing the news of the battle of jarnac, and as he mentioned the main events, she calmly turned to her children, saying: "ah! i knew; i saw it all yesterday!" it seems as if in times of great and general expectation, when bloody battles are fought, and the destiny of empires hangs in the scales, the minds of the masses become so painfully excited that the most sensitive among them fall into a kind of trance, and then perceive, by magic powers of divination, what is taking place at great distances. this over-excitement is, moreover, not unknown to men of the highest character and the greatest erudition. calvin, whose stern, clear-sighted judgment abhorred all superstition, nevertheless once saw a battle between catholics and protestants with all its details. swedenborg, whose religious enthusiasm never interfered with his scrupulous candor, saw more than once with his mind's eye events occurring at a distance of hundreds of miles. his vision of the great fire at stockholm is too well authenticated to admit of doubt. not less reliable are the accounts of another vision he had at amsterdam in the presence of a large company. while engaged in animated conversation, he suddenly changed countenance and became silent; the persons near him saw that he was under the influence of some strong impression. after a few moments he seemed to recover, and overwhelmed with questions, he at last reluctantly said: "in this hour the emperor peter iv. of russia has suffered death in his prison!" it was ascertained afterwards that the unfortunate sovereign had died on that day and in the manner indicated. among modern seers the most remarkable was probably the well-known poet, Émile deschamps, who published in interesting accounts of his own experiences. when he was only eight years old it was decided that he should leave paris and be sent to orleans; this troubled him sorely, and in his great grief he found some little comfort in setting his lively fancy to work and to imagine what the new city would be like. when he reached orleans he was extremely surprised to recognize the streets, the shops, and even the names on the sign-boards, everything was exactly as he had seen it in his day-dreams. while he was yet there he saw his mother, whom he had left in paris, in a dream rising gently heavenwards with a palm-branch in her hand, and heard her voice, very faint but silvery, call to him, "Émile, Émile, my son!" she had died in the same night, uttering these words with her departing breath. later in life he often heard strange but enchanting music while in a state of partial ecstasis; he saw distant events, and, among others, distinctly described a barricade, the defenders of the adjoining house, and certain events connected with the fight at that spot, as they had happened in paris on the same day (_le concile de la libre pensée_, i. p. ). a still higher power of divination enables men to read in the faces and forms of others, even of totally unknown persons, not only the leading traits of their character, but even the nature of their former lives. there can be no doubt that every important event in our life leaves a more or less perceptible trace behind, which the acute and experienced observer may learn to read with tolerable distinctness and accuracy. it is well known how the study of the human face enables us thus to discern one secret after another, and how really great men have possessed the power to judge of the capacity of generals or statesmen to serve them, by natural instinct and without any effort. we say of specially endowed men of this class, that they "can read the souls of men," and what is most interesting is the well-established fact that the purer the mind and the freer from selfishness and conceit, the greater this power to feel, as it were, the character of others. hence the superiority of women in this respect; hence, especially, the unfailing instinct of children, which enables them instantly to distinguish affected love from real love, and makes them shrink often painfully from contact with evil men. when this power reaches in older men a high degree of perfection, it enters within the limits of magic, and in this form was well known to the ancients. the neo-platonic plotinus is reported by porphyrius to have been almost marvelously endowed with such divining powers; he revealed to his pupils the past and the future events of their lives alike, and once charged the author himself with cherishing thoughts of suicide, when no one else suspected such a purpose. in like manner, we are told, ancus nævius, the famous augur of the first tarquins, could read all he desired to know in the faces of others. the saints of the church were naturally as richly endowed, and from filipo neri to xavier nearly all possessed this peculiar gift of divination. but other men, also, and by no means always those most abundantly endowed with mental superiority, have frequently a peculiar talent of this kind. thus the well-known writer zschokke, the author of the admirable work, "hours of devotion," gives in his autobiographical work, _selbstschau_, a full account of his peculiar gifts as a seer, which contains the following principal facts: at the moment when an utter stranger was first introduced to him, he saw a picture of his whole previous life rising gradually before his mind's eye, resembling somewhat a long dream, but clear and closely connected. during this time he would, contrary to his general custom, lose sight of the visitor's face and no longer hear his voice. he used to treat these involuntary revelations at first as mere idle fancies, till one day he was led by a kind of sportive impulse to tell his family the secret history of a seamstress who had just left the room, and whom he had never seen before. it was soon ascertained that all he had stated was perfectly true, though known only to very few persons. from that time he treated these visions more seriously, taking pains to repeat them in a number of cases to the persons whom they concerned, and to his own great amazement they turned out in every case to be perfectly accurate. the author adds one case of peculiarly striking nature: "one day," he says, "i reached the town of waldshut, accompanied by two young foresters, who are still alive. it was dusk, and tired by our walk we entered an inn called the grapevine. we took our supper at the public table in company with numerous guests, who happened to be laughing at the oddities and the simplicity of the swiss, their faith in mesmer, in lavater's 'system of the physiognomy,' etc. one of my companions, hurt in his national pride, asked me to make a reply, especially with regard to a young man sitting opposite to us, whose pretentious airs and merciless laughter had been peculiarly offensive. it so happened that, a few moments before, the main events in the life of this person had passed before my mind's eye. i turned to him and asked him if he would answer me candidly upon being told the most secret parts of his life by a man who was so complete a stranger to him as i was? that, i added, would certainly go even beyond lavater's power to read faces. he promised to confess it openly, if i stated facts. thereupon i related all i had seen in my mind, and informed thus the whole company at table of the young man's history, the events of his life at school, his petty sins, and at last a robbery which he had committed by pilfering his employer's strong-box. i described the empty room with its whitewashed walls and brown door, near which on the right hand, a small black money-box had been standing on a table, and other details. as long as i spoke there reigned a deathlike silence in the room, which was only interrupted by my asking the young man, from time to time, if all i said was not true. he admitted everything, although evidently in a state of utter consternation, and at last, deeply touched by his candor, i offered him my hand across the table and closed my recital." this popular writer, a man of unblemished character, who died in , regretted by a whole nation, makes this account of his own prophetic power still more interesting by adding that he met at least once in his life another man similarly endowed. "i once encountered," he says, "while travelling with two of my sons, an old tyrolese, a peddler of oranges and lemons, in a small inn half concealed in one of the narrow passes of the jura mountains. he fixed his eyes for some time upon my face, and then entered into conversation with me, stating that he knew me, although i did not know him, and then began, to the intense delight of the peasants who sat around us and of my children, to chat about myself and my past life. how the old man had acquired his strange knowledge he could not explain to himself or to others, but he evidently valued it highly, while my sons were not a little astonished to discover that other men possessed the same gift which they had only known to exist in their father." it must not be forgotten that the human eye has, beyond question, often a power which far transcends the ordinary purposes of sight, and approaches the boundaries of magic. there is probably no one who cannot recall scenes in which the soothing and cheering expression of gentle eyes has acted like healing balm on wounded hearts; or others, in which glances of fury and hatred have caused genuine terror and frightened the conscience. history records a number of instances, from the glance of the saviour, which made peter go out and weep bitterly, to the piercing eye of a well-known english judge, which made criminals of every rank in society feel as if their very hearts lay open to the divining eye of a master. this peculiar and almost irresistible power of the eye has not inaptly been traced back to the gorgon head of antiquity--a frightful image from hades with a dread glance of the eye, as it is called by homer (il. viii. ; odyss. xi. ). the same fearful expression, chilling the blood and almost arresting the beating of the heart, is frequently mentioned in modern accounts of visions. thus the demon of tedworth recorded by glanvil ("sadd. triumph." th ed. p. ), consisted of the vague outlines of a human face, in which only two bright, piercing eyes could be distinguished. in other cases, a faint vapor, barely recalling a human shape, arises before the beholder, and above it are seen the same terrible eyes "sent from the palace of ais by fearful persephoneia." magic divination in point of time includes the class of generally very vague and indefinite perceptions, which we call presentiments. these are, unfortunately, so universally mixed up with impressions produced after the occurrence--_vaticinium post eventum_--that their value as interesting phenomena of magic is seriously impaired. there remains, however, in a number of cases, enough that is free from all spurious admixture, to admit of being examined seriously. the ancients not only believed in this kind of foresight, but ascribed it with pythagoras to revelations made by friendly spirits; in holy writ it rises almost invariably, under direct inspiration from on high, to genuine prophecy. it reveals not only the fate of the seer, but also that of others, and even of whole nations; the details vary, of course, according to the prevailing spirit of the times. when narses was ruling over italy, a young shepherd in the service of valerianus, a lawyer, was seized by the plague and fell into syncope. he recovered for a time, and then declared that he had been carried to heaven, where he had heard the names of all who in his master's house should die of the plague, adding that valerianus himself would escape. after his death everything occurred as he had predicted. an english minister, mr. dodd, one night felt an irresistible impulse to visit a friend of his who lived at some distance. he walked to his house, found the family asleep, but the father still awake and ready to open the door to his late visitor. the latter, very much embarrassed, thought it best to state the matter candidly, and confessed that he came for no ostensible purpose, and really did not know himself what made him do so. "but god knew it," was the answer, "for here is the rope with which i was just about to hang myself." it may well be presumed that the rev. mr. dodd had some apprehensions of the state of mind of his friend; but that he should have felt prompted to call upon him just at that hour, was certainly not a mere accident. the family of the great goethe was singularly endowed with this power of presentiment. the poet's grandfather predicted both a great conflagration and the unexpected arrival of the german emperor, and a dream informed him beforehand of his election as alderman and then as mayor of his native city. his mother's sister saw hidden things in her dreams. his grandmother once entered her daughter's chamber long after midnight in a state of great and painful excitement; she had heard in her own room a noise like the rustling of papers, and then deep sighs, and after a while a cold breath had struck her. some time after this event a stranger was announced, and when he appeared before her holding a crumbled paper in his hand, she had barely strength enough to keep from fainting. when she recovered, her visitor stated that in the night of her vision a dear friend of hers, lying on his deathbed, had asked for paper in order to impart to her an important secret; before he could write, however, he had been seized by the death-struggle, and after crumpling up the paper and uttering two deep sighs he had expired. an indistinct scrawl was all that could be seen; still the stranger had thought it best to bring the paper. the secret concerned his now orphaned child, a girl whom goethe's grandparents thereupon took home and cared for affectionately (_goethe's briefwechsel_, d ed., ii. p. ). bourrienne tells us in his _mémoires_ several instances of remarkable forebodings on the part of napoleon's first wife, josephine. her mind was probably, by her education and the peculiar surroundings in which she passed her childhood, predisposed to receive vivid impressions of this kind, and to observe them with great care and deep interest. thus she almost invariably predicted the failure of such of her husband's enterprises as proved unsuccessful. after bonaparte had moved into the tuileries on the th brumaire, she saw, while sitting in the room of poor marie antoinette, the shadow of the unfortunate queen rise from the floor, pass gently through the apartment, and vanish through the window. she fainted, and from that day predicted her own sad fate. on another occasion the spirit of her first husband, beauharnais, appeared before her with a gesture of solemn warning; she immediately turned to napoleon, exclaiming: "awake, awake, you are threatened by a great danger!" there seemed to be, for some days, no ground for apprehension, but so strong were her fears that she secretly sent for the minister of police and entreated him to take special measures for the safety of the first consul. at eight o'clock of the evening of the same day the latter left the tuileries on his way to the opera; a terrible explosion was heard in the rue st. nicaise, where conspirators attempted to blow up the dictator, and he narrowly escaped with his life. josephine at once hastened to his side, and after having most tenderly cared for the wounded, embraced napoleon in public with tears streaming down her face, and implored him hereafter to listen more attentively to her warnings. napoleon, however, though superstitious enough firmly to believe in what he called his "star," and even to see it shining in the heavens when no one else beheld it, never would admit the value of his wife's forebodings. presentiments of this kind are most frequently felt before death, and it is now almost universally believed that the impending dissolution of the body relieves the spirit in many cases fully enough from its bondage to endow it with a clear and distinct anticipation of the coming event. a large number of historical personages have thus been enabled to predict the day, and many even the hour of their own death. the connétable de bourbon, who was besieging rome, addressed, according to brantôme (_vies des gr. capitaines_, ch. ), on the day of the final assault, his troops, and told them he would certainly fall before the eternal city, but without regret if they but proved victorious. henry iv. of france, felt his death coming, according to the unanimous evidence of sully, l'etoile, and bassompierre, and said, before he entered his coach on the fatal day: "my friend, i would rather not go out to-day; i know i shall meet with misfortune." on the th of may, , four days before the battle of bautzen, two of napoleon's great officers, the duke of vicenza and marshal duroc, were in attendance at dresden while the emperor was holding a protracted conference with the austrian ambassador. the clock was striking midnight, when suddenly duroc seized his companion by the arm and with frightfully altered features, looking intently at him, said in trembling tones: "my friend, this lasts too long; we shall all of us perish, and he last of all. a secret voice tells me that i shall never see france again." it is well known that on the day of the battle a cannon-ball which had already killed general kirchner, wounded duroc also mortally, and when he lay on his deathbed he once more turned to the duke of vicenza and reminded him of the words he had spoken in dresden. the trustworthy author of "eight months in japan," n. lühdorf, tells us (p. ) a remarkable instance of unconscious foreboding on the part of a common sailor. the american barque _greta_ was in chartered to carry a great number of russians, who had been shipwrecked on board the frigate _diana_ during an earthquake at simoda to the russian port of ayan. a sailor on board was very ill, and shortly before his death told his comrades that he would soon die, but that he was rather glad of it, as they would all be captured by the english, with whom russia was then at war. the report of his prediction reached the captain's cabin, but all the officers agreed that such an event was next to impossible; a dense fog was making the ship perfectly invisible, and no english fleet had as yet appeared in the sea of okhotsk, where the russians had neither vessels nor forts to tempt the british. the whole force of england in those waters was at that moment engaged in blockading the russian fleet in the bay of castris in the gulf of tartary. nevertheless it so chanced that a british steamer, the corvette _barracouta_, hove in sight on the st of august and captured the vessel, making the russians prisoners of war. second sight. a special kind of divination, which has at times been evidenced in certain parts of europe, and is not unknown to our north-western indians, consists in the perception of contemporaneous or future events, during a brief trance. generally the seer looks with painfully raised eyelids, fixedly into space, evidently utterly unconscious of all around him, and engaged in watching a distant occurrence. a peculiar feature of this phenomenon, familiar to all readers as second sight, is the exclusion of religious or supernatural matters; the visions are always strictly limited to events of daily life: deaths and births, battles and skirmishes, baptisms and weddings. the actors in these scenes are often personally unknown to the seer, and the transactions are as frequently beheld in symbols as in reality. a man who is to die a violent death, may be seen with a rope around his neck or headless, with a dagger plunged into his breast, or sinking into the water up to his neck; the sick man who is to expire in his bed, will appear wrapped up in his winding sheet, in which case his person is more or less completely concealed as his death is nearer or farther off. a friend or a messenger coming from a great distance, is seen as a faint shadow, and a murderer or a thief, as a wolf or a fox. another peculiar feature of second sight is the fact that the same visions are very frequently beheld by several persons, although the latter may live far apart and have nothing in common with each other. the phenomena are sporadic in germany and switzerland, in the dauphiné and the cevennes; they occur in larger numbers and are often hereditary in certain families, in denmark, the scotch highlands and the faroe islands. in gaelic, the persons thus gifted are called taishatrim, seers of shadows, or phissichin, possessing knowledge beforehand. hence, they have been most thoroughly studied in those countries, and mr. martin has gathered all that could be learnt of second sight in the shetlands, in a work of great interest. here the phenomena are not unfrequently accompanied by magic hearing also, as when funerals are seen in visions, and at the same time the chants of the bystanders and even the words of the preacher are distinctly heard. the most marked form of this feature is the taisk or wraith, a cry uttered by a person who is soon to die, and heard by the seer. the dwellers on those remote islands are also in the habit of smelling an odor of fish, often weeks and months before the latter appear in their waters. a special kind of divination exists in wales and on the isle of man, where the approaching death of friends is revealed by so-called body lights, caulawillan cyrth. the entirely unselfish character of second sight must not be overlooked, as far as it increases in a high degree the value of such phenomena and adds to their authenticity. in the great majority of cases the persons and events seen under such circumstances are of no interest to the seer; they are frequently utterly strange and unknown to him, and hence find no sympathy in his heart. it appears as if, by some unknown and hence magic process, a window was opened for the soul to look out and behold whatever may happen to be presented to the inner vision; this image is then transferred to the outer eye, and the seer's imagination makes him believe that he sees in reality what is revealed to him by this mysterious process. hence also the facts that the persons gifted with second sight, so far from laboring under diseases of any kind, are almost without exception simple, frugal men, free from chronic affections, and perfect strangers to hysterics, spasms, or nervous sufferings. insanity and suicide are as unknown to them as drunkenness, and no case of selfish interest or willful imposture has ever been recorded in connection with second sight. this does not imply, however, that efforts have not been made by others to profit by the strange gifts of such persons; but even the career of the famous duncan campbell, a deaf and dumb scot, who, in the beginning of the last century, created an immense sensation in london, only proved anew the well-known disinterestedness of these seers. in many instances the gift of second sight is treated with indifference, and hardly noticed. such was the case with lord nelson, who is reported to have exhibited the gift of a kind of second sight, at least in two well-authenticated cases, related by sir thomas hardy to admiral dundas, and quoted by dr. mayo, as he had the account from the latter. captain hardy heard nelson order the commander of a frigate to shake out all sails to sail towards a certain place where he would in all probability meet the french fleet, and as soon as he had made it out, to run into a certain port and there to wait for nelson's arrival. when the officer had left the cabin, nelson turned to hardy, saying: "he will go to the west indies; he will see the french; he will make the port i told him to make, but he will not wait for me--he will sail for england." the commander actually did so. in this case, however, nelson may possibly have only given a striking evidence of his power to read the character of men, and to draw his conclusions as to their probable action. in the following instance his knowledge appeared, on the contrary, as a magic phenomenon. it was shortly before the battle of trafalgar, when an english frigate was made out at such a distance that her position could not be accurately ascertained. suddenly nelson turned to hardy, who was standing by his side, and said: "the frigate has sighted the french." hardy had nothing to say in reply. "she sights the french; she will fire presently." in an instant the low sound of a signal-shot was heard afar off! in other cases the curious gift is borne with great impatience, and becomes a source of intense suffering. this is certainly very pardonable in men who read impending death in the features of others, and hence are continually subject to heart-rending impressions. sometimes the moribund appears as if he had been lying in his grave already for several days, at other times he is seen wrapped up in his shroud or in the act of expiring. in some parts of germany the approaching death of a neighbor is announced by the appearance of death itself, not in the familiar mythological form, but as a white, luminous appearance, which either stops before the house of the person who is to die soon, or actually enters it and places itself by the side of the latter. occasionally the image is seen to fill the seat or to walk in a procession in the place of a man as yet in perfect health, who nevertheless soon falls a victim to some disease or sudden attack. second sight is, like all similar magic phenomena, frequently mentioned in the writings of the ancients. homer mentions a case in his "odyssey" (xx. v. ). apollonius of tyana was delivering an oration at ephesus, when he suddenly stopped in the middle of a sentence and beheld in a vision the emperor domitian at rome, in the act of succumbing to his murderers. he fell into a kind of trance, his eyes became fixed, and he exclaimed in an unnatural voice: "down with the tyrant!" (_vita apoll. zenobis anolo interprete._ paris, , l. viii. p. .) henry iv., when still prince of navarre, saw on the eve of st. bartholomew several drops of blood falling upon the green cloth of the card-table at which he was seated in company with several courtiers; the latter beheld the fearful and ominous sight as well as he himself. german writings abound with instances of men having seen their own funeral several days before their death, and in many instances the warning is reported to have had a most salutary effect in causing them to repent of their sins and to prepare for the impending summons. one of the most remarkable instances is that of a distinguished professor of divinity, dr. lysius, in königsberg. he had inherited special magic powers through many generations from an early ancestor, who saw a funeral of very peculiar nature, with all the attending circumstances, long before it actually took place. he himself had his first revelation when, lying in bed awake, he saw suddenly his chamber quite light, and something like a man's shadow pass him, while on his mind, not on his ear, fell the words: _umbra matris tuæ_. although his mother had just written to him that she was in unusually good health and spirits, she had died that very night. on another occasion he astonished his friends by telling them what a superb new building he had seen erected in königsberg, giving all the details of church and school-room to a little gate in a narrow alley. many years afterwards such a building was really erected there, and he himself called to occupy part of it, when that little gate became his favorite entrance. although he had many such visions, and his wife, succumbing to the contagious influence of magic powers, also foresaw more than one important event, he sternly refused to attach any weight to his own forebodings or those of other persons. thus a poor woman, possessing the gift of second sight, once came to some members of his family and told them she had seen seven funerals leave his house; when this was reported to him, he denounced the superstition as unchristian, and forbade its being mentioned again in his presence. but, although there was not a sick person in the house at the time, and even the older members of the family were unusually hale and hearty, in a few weeks every one in the house was dangerously ill, the head of the family alone excepted, and as three only escaped, the seven deaths which had been foreseen actually took place. the annals of swedish history (arndt, _schwed. gesch._ p. ) record a remarkable case of this kind. the scene was the old castle of gripsholm, near stockholm, a place full of terrible reminiscences, and more than once made famous by strange mysteries. a great state dinner given to a prince of baden, had just ended, when one of the guests, count frölich, suddenly gazed fixedly at the great door of the dining-hall, and when he regained his composure, declared he had just seen their princely guest walk in, wearing a different uniform from that in which he was actually dressed, as he sat in the place of honor. it was, however, a custom of the prince's to wear one costume one day and another the next day, and thus to change regularly; count frölich had seen him in that which he would accordingly wear the next day. the impression was beginning to wear away, and the accident was nearly forgotten, when suddenly a great disturbance was heard without, servants came running in, women were heard crying, and even the officers on guard were seriously disturbed. the report was that "king eric's ghost" had been seen. on the following day the prince of baden was thrown from his carriage and instantly killed; his body was brought back to gripsholm. here also we meet again with the exceptional powers granted to goethe. he had just parted with one of his many loves, the fair daughter of the minister of drusenheim, friederike, and was riding in deep thought upon the footpath, when he suddenly saw, "not with the eyes of the body, but of the spirit," his own self in a new light gray coat, laced with gold, riding towards him. when he made an effort to shake off the impression, the vision disappeared. "it is strange, however," he tells us himself, "that i found myself eight years later riding on that same road, in order to see friederike once more, and was then dressed, by accident and not from choice, in the costume of which i had dreamt" (_aus meinem leben_, iii. p. ). a kindred spirit, sir humphry davy, had once a vision, which strangely enough was fulfilled more than once. in his attractive work ("consolations in travel," p. ), he relates how he saw, when suffering of jail fever, the image of a beautiful woman, with whom he soon entered into a most interesting conversation. he was at the time warmly attached to a lady, but the vision represented a girl with brown hair, blue eyes and blooming complexion, while his lady-love was pale and had dark eyes and dark hair. his mysterious visitor came frequently, as long as he was really sick, but as his strength returned, her visits became rarer, and at last ceased altogether. he forgot it entirely; but ten years later he suddenly met in illyria, a girl of about fourteen or fifteen years, who strikingly resembled the image he had seen, and now recalled in all its details. another ten years passed, and the great chemist met once more in traveling, a person who as strikingly resembled his first vision, and became indebted to her tender care and kindness for the preservation of his life. in some parts of the world this gift of second sight assumes very peculiar forms. in africa, for instance, and especially in the countries adjoining the sahara, men and women are found who possess alike the power of seeing coming events beforehand. more than once european travelers have been hospitably received by natives who had been warned of their coming. richardson tells us in his graphic account of his "mission to central africa," that his arrival had thus been announced to the chief and the people of tintalus in these words: "a caravan of englishmen is on the way from tripoli, to come to you." the seer was an old negro-woman, a reputed witch, who had a great reputation for anticipating events. in the isle of france--we learn from james prior in his "voyage in the indian seas"--there are many men who can see vessels at a distance of several hundred miles. one of them described accurately and minutely the wreck of a ship on the coast of madagascar, from whence it was to bring provisions. a woman expecting her lover on board another ship, inquired of one of these seers if he could give her any comfort: he replied promptly that the vessel was only three days' sail from the island, and that her friend was then engaged in washing his linen. the ship arrived at the appointed time, and the man corroborated the seer's statement. the great navigator relates even more surprising feats accomplished by the director of signals, faillafé, who saw vessels distinctly at a distance of from sixty to one hundred sea miles. their image appeared to him on the horizon in the shape of a light brown cloud with faint outlines, but yet distinctly enough to enable him to distinguish the size of the vessel, the nature of its rigging, and the direction in which it was sailing. second hearing seems to be limited to the eastern part of scotland, where it occurs occasionally in whole families. mrs. crowe mentions, for instance, a man and his wife in berwickshire, who were both aroused at night by a loud cry which they at once recognized as peculiar to their son. it appeared afterwards that he had perished at sea in that night and at the same hour when the cry was heard (i. p. ). in another case a man in perthshire was waked by his wife, who told him that no doubt their son had been drowned, for she had distinctly heard the splash as he fell into the water, and had been aroused by the noise. here also the foreboding proved true: the man had fallen from the yardarm, and disappeared before a boat could be lowered, although his fall had been heard by all aboard. it must finally be mentioned that second sight has been noticed not in men only, but even in animals. horses especially seem to be extremely sensitive to all magic influences, and accounts of their peculiar conduct under trying circumstances are both numerous and perfectly well authenticated. thus a minister in lindholm, the rev. mr. hansen, owned a perfectly gentle and good-natured horse, which all of a sudden refused to stand still in his stable, began to tremble and give all signs of great fear, and finally kicked and reared so wildly that he had to be removed. as soon as he was placed in another stable he calmed down and became perfectly quiet. it was at last discovered that a person endowed with second sight had ascribed the strange behavior of the horse to the fact that a coffin was being made before his open stable, and that the horse could not bear the sight. the man was laughed at, but not long after the minister's wife died, and for some special reasons the coffin was actually made in full view of the former stable of the horse (kies. _arch._ viii. p. ). dogs also have been reported in almost innumerable cases to have set up a most painful howling before the approaching death of inmates of a house where they were kept. in england and in germany especially, they are considered capable of seeing supernatural beings. when they are seen to cower down of a sudden, and to press close to the feet of their masters, trembling often in all their limbs, and looking up most piteously, as if for help, popular belief says: "all is not right with the dog," or "he sees more than men can see." the memory of balaam's ass rises instinctively in our mind, and we feel that this part of creation, which groaneth with us for salvation, and which was included among those for whose sake the lord spared nineveh, may see what is concealed from our eyes. samuel wesley tells us expressly how a dog, specially bought for the purpose of frightening away the evil-disposed men who were at first suspected of causing the nightly disturbances at the parsonage, barked but once the first night, and after that exhibited, upon the recurrence of those noises, quite as much terror as the children. nor are dogs and horses the only animals considered capable of perceiving by a special instinct of their own the working of supernatural agencies. during a series of mysterious disturbances in a german village, the chickens fled in terror from the garden, and the cattle refused to enter the enclosure, when the appearances were seen. swiss herdsmen have a number of stories concerning "feyed" places in the alps, to which neither caress nor compulsion can induce their herds to go, even when pasture is rare everywhere else, and rich grass seems to tempt them to come to the abhorred meadows. storks have been known to have abandoned the rooftree on which for years they had built their nest, and in every case the forsaken house was burnt during the summer. this and other peculiarities of sagacious animals have been especially noticed in denmark, where all animals are called _synsk_, seers, when they are believed to possess the gift of second sight. oracles and prophecies. the highest degree of divination is the actual foretelling of events which are yet to happen. the immediate causes which awaken the gift are of the most varied character, and often very curious. thus a young florentine, gasparo, who had been wounded by an arrow, and could not be relieved, began in his fearful suffering to pray incessantly, day and night; this excited him to such a degree that he finally foretold not only the name of his visitors, but also the hour at which they would come, and finally the day of his complete recovery; he also knew, by the same instinct, that later in life he would go to rome and die there. when the iron point was at last removed from his wound, his health began to improve, and at once his prophetic gift left him and never returned. he went, however, to rome, and really died in the eternal city (colquhoun, p. ). the priests of apollo, at colophon, intoxicated themselves with the water of his fountain, which was as famous for bestowing the gift of prophecy as Æsculapius' well at pergamus and the springs near his temple at pellena. in other temples vapors were inhaled by the prophetic priests. in the prophet-schools of the israelites music seems to have played a prominent part, for samuel told saul he would meet at the hill of gad "a company of prophets coming down from the high place with a psaltery and a tabret and a pipe before them." the jews possessed, however, also other means to aid in divining: joseph had his cup, a custom still prevalent in the east; and the high priest, before entering into the holiest, put on the thummim with its six dark jewels and the urim with its six light-colored jewels, whereupon the brilliant sparkling of the precious stones and the rich fumes of incense combined with the awful sense of the presence of jehovah in predisposing his mind to receive revelations from on high. the false prophets of baal, on the contrary, tried to produce like effects by bloody means: "they cut themselves with knives and lancets till the blood gushed out upon them," and then they prophesied. it has already been mentioned that in india the glance was fixed upon the navel, until the divine light began to shine before the mind's eye--in other words, until a trance is induced, and visions begin to appear. the changes which immediately precede dissolution seem, finally, to be most favorable to a development of prophetic powers. already aretæus, the cappadocian, said that the mind of many dying persons was perfectly clear, penetrating and prophetic, and mentions a number of cases in which the dying had begun to converse with the dead, or foretold the fate of those who stood by their bedside. thus homer also makes dying hector warn achilles of his approaching end, and calanus, when in the act of ascending the funeral pile, replies to alexander's question if he had any request to make: "no, i have nothing to ask, for i shall see you the day after to-morrow!" and on that day the young conqueror died. suetonius reports that the emperor augustus was passing away almost imperceptibly, when he suddenly shuddered and said that forty youths were carrying him off. it so happened that when the end came, forty men of his body-guard were ordered to raise and convey the body to another room in the palace. there are a few cases known in which apparently dying persons, after delivering such prophecies, have recovered and retained the exceptional gift during the remainder of their lives, but these instances are rare and require confirmation. as all magic phenomena are liable to be mixed up with delusion and imposture, so divination of this kind also has been frequently imitated for personal or political purposes. the ancient oracles already gave frequently answers full of irony and sly humor. the story of king alexander of epirus is well known, who was warned by the oracle at dodona to keep away from the acherusian waters, and then perished in the river acheros, in italy. thus henry iv. of england had been told that he would die at jerusalem; he thought only of palestine, but met his death unconsciously in a room belonging to the abbey of westminster, which bore the name of the holy city. in spain, ferdinand the catholic received warning that he would die at madrigal, and hence carefully avoided the city of that name; but when his last illness overtook him at an obscure little town, he found that it was called madrigaola, or little madrigal. the historian mariana (_hist. de rebus hisp._, l. xxii. chap. ) also mentions the despair of the famous favorite don alvarez de luna, whom an astrologer had warned against cadahalso, a village near toledo; the unfortunate man died on the scaffold which is also called cadahalso. in france it was the fate of the superstitious queen, catherine de medici, to experience a similar mortification: the famous nostradamus had predicted that she would die in st. germain, and she carefully avoided that palace; but when her last end came, she found herself sinking helpless into the arms of a courtier called st. germain. nor is there any want of false prophecies from the time when jeremiah complained that "a wonderful and horrible thing is committed in the land; the people prophesy falsely" (jer. v. ), to the great money crisis in , which filled the land with predictions of the approaching end. periods of great political or religious excitement invariably produce a few genuine and a host of spurious prophets, which represent the sad forebodings filling the mind of a distressed nation and avail themselves of the credulity of all great sufferers. some of the most absurd prophecies have nevertheless caused a perfect panic, extending in some cases throughout whole countries. thus in a famous astrologer, the father of all weather prophecies in our almanacs, predicted that in the month of february, , when three planets should enter at once the constellation of the fishes, a second deluge would destroy the earth. the report reached the emperor charles v., who submitted the matter to his spanish theologians and astrologers. they investigated it with solemn gravity and found it very formidable; from spain the panic spread through the whole of europe. when february came thousands left their houses and sought refuge on mountain and hill-top; others hoped to escape on board ships, and a rich president at toulouse actually built himself a second ark. when the deluge did not take place, divines and diviners were by no means abashed; they declared that god had this time also taken pity upon sinful men in consideration of the fervent prayer of the faithful, as he had done before in the case of nineveh. the fear of the last judgment has at all times so filled the minds of men as to make them readily believe a prediction of the approaching end of the world, an event which, it is well known, the apostles, martin luther, and certain modern divines, have persistently thought immediately impending. sects have arisen at various epochs who have looked forward to the second advent with a sincerity of conviction of which they gave striking and even most fearful evidence. the millerites of the union have more than once predicted the coming of christ, and in anticipation of the near advent, disposed of their property, assumed the white robes in which they were to ascend to heaven, and even mounted into the topmost branches of trees to shorten the journey. in switzerland a young woman of berne became so excited by the coming of judgment, which she fixed upon the next easter day, that she prophesied daily, gathered a number of followers around her, and actually had her own grandfather strangled in order to save his soul before the approaching advent. (stilling, "jenseits," p. .) not unfrequently prophecies are apparently delivered by intermediate agents, angels, demons or peculiarly marked persons. it was no doubt an effect of the deep and continued excitement felt by caius cassius, that his mind was filled with the image of murdered cæsar, and hence he could very easily fancy he saw his victim in his purple cloak, horse and rider of gigantic proportions, suddenly appear in the din of the battle at philippi, riding down upon him with wild passion. it is well known that the impression was strong enough to make him, who had never yet turned his back upon the enemy, seek safety in flight, and cry out: "what more do you want if murder does not finish you?" (valer. max. i. .) it must lastly be borne in mind, that prophecies have not remained as sterile as other magical phenomena. already herder mentions the advantages of ancient oracles. he says (_ideen zur phil. d. geschichte_, iii. p. ): "many a tyrant and criminal was publicly marked by the divine voice (of oracles), when it foretold their fate; in like manner it has saved many an innocent person, given good advice to the helpless, lent divine authority to noble institutions, made known works of art, and sanctioned great moral truths as well as wholesome maxims of state policy." it need hardly be added that the prophets of israel were the main upholders of the religious life as well as of the morality of the chosen people; while the priests remained stationary in their views, and contented themselves with performing the ceremonial service of the temple, the prophets preserved the true faith, and furthered its gradually widening revelation. in their case, however, divination was so clearly the result of divine inspiration, that their prophecies can hardly be classed among magic phenomena. the ground which they have in common with merely human forebodings and divinings, is the state of trance in which alone prophets seem to have foretold the future, whether we believe this ecstatic condition to have been caused by music, long-protracted prayer or the direct agency of the holy spirit. this ecstasy was in the case of almost all the oracles of antiquity brought on by inhaling certain gases which rose from the soil and produced often most fearful symptoms in the unfortunate persons employed for the purpose. at the same time they were rarely free from an addition of artifice, as the priests not only filled the mind of the pythoness beforehand with thoughts suggested by their own wisdom and political experience, but the latter also frequently employed her skill as a ventriloquist, in order to increase the force of her revelations. hence the fact, that almost all the greek oracles proceeded from deep caves, in which, as at dodona and delphi, carbonic gas was developed in abundance; hence, also, the name of _ventriloqua vates_, which was commonly given to the delphi pythia. the oldest of these oracles, that at dodona, foretold events for nearly two thousand years, and even survived the almost universal destruction of such institutions at the time of christ; it did not actually cease till the third century, when an illyrian robber cut down the sacred tree. the oracle of zeus trophonius in boeotia spoke through the patients who were brought to the caves, where they became somnambulists, had visions and answered the questions of the priests while they were in this condition. the romans also had their somnambulist prophets from the earliest days, and whenever the state was in danger, the sibylline books were consulted. christianity made an end to all such divination in italy as in greece. it is strange that the vast scheme of egyptian superstition shows us no oracles whatever; but among the germans prophets were all the more numerous. they foretold war or peace, success or failure, and exercised a powerful influence on all affairs. one of the older prophetesses, veleda, who lived in an isolated tower, and allowed herself to be but rarely consulted, was held in high esteem even by the romans. the celts had in like manner prophet-druids, some of whom became well known to the romans, and are reported to have foretold the fate of the emperors aurelian, diocletian and severus. we have the authority of josephus for the continuance of prophetic power in israel even after the coming of christ. he tells us of jesus, the son of ananus, who ran for seven years and five months through the streets of jerusalem, proclaiming the coming ruin, and, while crying out "woe is me!" was struck and instantly killed by a stone from one of the siege engines of the romans. (jos., l. vi. c. .) josephus himself passes for a prophet, having predicted the fall of the city of jotapata forty-seven days in advance, his own captivity, and the imperial dignity of vespasian as well as of titus. of northern prophets, merlin is probably the most widely known; he was a celtic bard, called myrdhin, and his poems, written in the seventh century, were looked upon as accurate descriptions of many subsequent events, such as the exploits of joan of arc. in the sixteenth century nostradamus took his place, whose prophetic verses, _vraies centuries et prophéties_, are to this day current among the people, and now and then reappear in leading journals. he had been a professor of medicine in the university of montpellier, and died in , enjoying a world-wide reputation as an astrologer. his brief and often enigmatical verses have never lost their hold on credulous minds, and a few striking instances have, even in our century, largely revived his credit. such was, for instance, the stanza (no. ): _un empereur naître près d'italie, qui à l'empire sera vendu très cher; dirònt avec quels gens il se ralliè, qu'on trouvera moins prince que boucher,_ which was naturally applied to the great napoleon and his marshals. another northern prophet, whose predictions are still quoted, was the archbishop of armagh, malachias, who, in , foretold the fate of all coming popes; as in almost all similar cases, here also the accidental coincidences have been carefully noted and pompously proclaimed, while the many unfulfilled prophecies have been as studiously concealed. it is curious, however, that he distinctly predicted the fate of pius vi., whom he spoke of as "_vir apostolicus moriens in exilo_" (he died, , an exile, in valence), and that he characterized pius ix. as "crux de cruce." st. bridget of sweden had the satisfaction of seeing her prophecies approved of by the council of basle; they were translated subsequently into almost every living language, and are still held in high esteem by thousands in every part of europe. the most prominent name among english prophets is probably that of archbishop usher, who predicted cromwell's fate, and many events in england and ireland, the result, no doubt, of great sagacity and a remarkable power of combination, but exceeding in many instances the ordinary measure of human wisdom. an entirely different prophet was rice evans (jortin, "rem. on eccles. hist.," p. ), who, fixing his eye upon the hollow of his hand, saw there images of lord fairfax, cromwell, and four other crowned heads appearing one after another; thus, it is said, he predicted the protectorate and the reign of the four sovereigns of the house of stuart. jane leade, a most extraordinary and mysterious person, founded in , when she had reached the age of seventy-four, her so-called philadelphian society, a prominent member of which was the famous pordage, formerly a minister and then a physician. this very vain woman maintained that she was inspired in the same manner as st. john in patmos, and that she was compelled by the power of the holy spirit to foretell the future. in spite of her erroneous announcement of the near millennium, she foretold many minor events with great accuracy, and was highly esteemed as a prophet. dr. pordage had mainly visions of the future world, which were all characterized by a great purity of heart and wildness of imagination. swedenborg also had many prophetic visions, but their fulfillment belongs exclusively to future life, and their genuineness, firmly believed by the numerous and enlightened members of the new church, cannot be proved to others in this world. one of the most remarkable cases of modern prophesying which has been officially recorded, is connected with the death of pope ganganelli. the latter heard that a number of persons in various parts of italy had predicted that he would soon end his life by a violent death. he attached sufficient importance to these reports to hand the matter over to a special commission previously appointed to examine grave charges which had been brought against the jesuits, perhaps suspecting that the order of jesus was not unconnected with those predictions. among the persons who were thereupon arrested was a simple, ignorant peasant-girl, beatrice rensi, who told the gendarme very calmly: "ganganelli has me arrested, braschi will set me free," implying that the latter would be the next pope. the priest at valentano, who was arrested on the same day ( th of may, ), exclaimed quite joyously: "what happens to me now has been predicted three times already; take these papers and see what my daughter (the rensi) has foretold." upon examination it appears that the girl had fixed the pope's day upon the day of equinoxes, in the month of september; she announced that he would proclaim a year of absolution, but not live to see it; that none of the faithful would kiss his foot, nor would they take him, as usual, to the church of st. peter. at the same time she spoke of a fierce inward struggle through which the holy father would have to pass before his death. soon after these predictions were made officially known to the pope, the bull against the order of jesuits was laid before him; the immense importance of such a decree, and the evident dangers with which it was fraught, caused him great concern, and when he one night rose from his bed to affix his signature, and, frightened by some considerations, threw away the pen only to take it up at last and sign the paper, he suddenly recalled the prophecy of the peasant-girl. he drove at once to a great prelate in rome, who had formerly been the girl's confessor, and inquired of him about her character; the priest testified to her purity, her unimpeached honesty, and her simplicity, adding that in his opinion she was evidently favored by heaven with special and very extraordinary powers. ganganelli was made furious by this suggestion, and insisted upon it that his commission should declare all these predictions wicked lies, the inspirations of the devil, and condemn the sixty-two persons who had been arrested to pay the extreme penalty in the castle of st. angelo on the st of october. in the meantime, however, his health began to suffer, and his mind was more and more deeply affected. beatrice rensi had been imprisoned in a convent at montefiascone; on the d of september she told the prioress that prayers might be held for the soul of the holy father; the latter informed the bishop of the place, and soon the whole town was in an uproar. late in the afternoon couriers brought the news that ganganelli had suddenly died at eight o'clock in the morning; the body began to putrefy so promptly that the usual ceremonies of kissing the pope's feet and the transfer to st. peter's became impossible! the most curious effects of the girl's predictions appeared however, when the conclave was held to elect a successor. many cardinals were extremely anxious that braschi should not be elected, lest this should be interpreted as a confirmation of the prediction, and hence as the work of the evil one; others again looked upon the girl's words as an indication from on high; they carried the day. braschi was really chosen, and ascended the throne as pius vi. the commission, however, continued the work of investigation, and finally acquitted the jesuits of the charge of collusion; beatrice rensi's predictions were declared to be supernatural, but suggested by the father of lies, the accused were all set free. the bishop of montefiascone, maury, reported officially in that the girl had received a pension from rome until the french invasion, then she left the convent in which she had peacefully and quietly lived so long, and was not heard of again. the famous predictions of jacques cazotte, a man of high literary renown and the greatest respectability, were witnessed by persons of unimpeachable character and have been repeatedly mentioned as authentic by eminent writers. laharpe--not the tutor of the russian emperor alexander--reports them fully in his _oeuvres choisies_, etc. (i. p. ); so do boulard, in his _encycl. des gens du monde_, and william burt, who was present when they were made, in his "observations on the curiosities of nature." it is well known that cazotte had joined the sect of martinists, and among these enthusiasts increased his natural sensitiveness and his religious fervor. with a mind thus predisposed to receive strong impressions from outside, and filled with fearful apprehensions of the future, it was no wonder that he should fall suddenly into a trance and thus be enabled by extraordinary magical influences to predict the horrors of the revolution, the sad fate of the king and the queen, and his own tragic end. the report of his predictions as made by jean de laharpe, who only died in , and with his well-established character and high social standing vouched for the genuineness of his experience, is substantially as follows: he had been invited, in , to meet at the palace of the duchess de gramont some of the most remarkable personages of the day, and found himself seated by the side of malesherbes. he noticed at a corner of the table cazotte, apparently in a deep fit of musing, from which he was only roused by the frequent toasts, in which he was forced to join. when at last the guests seemed to be overflowing with fervent praises of modern philosophy and its brilliant victory over old religious superstitions, cazotte suddenly rose and in a solemn tone of voice and with features agitated with deep emotion said to them: "gentlemen, you may rejoice, for you will all see that great and imposing revolution, which you so much desire. you, m. condorcet, will expire lying on the floor of a subterranean prison. you, m. n., will die of poison; you, m. n., will perish by the executioner's hand on the scaffold." they cried out: "who on earth has made you think of prisons, poison, and the executioner? what have these things to do with philosophy and the reign of reason, which we anticipate and on which you but just now congratulated us?" "that is exactly what i say," replied cazotte, "in the name of philosophy, of reason, of humanity, and of freedom, all these things will be done, which i have foretold, and they will happen precisely when reason alone will reign and have its temples." "certainly," replied chamfort, "you will not be one of the priests." "not i," answered the latter, "but you, m. de chamfort, will be one of them and deserve to be one; you will cut your veins in twenty-two places with your razor, and yet die only several months after that desperate operation. you, m. vicque d'azyr, will not open your veins, because the gout in your hands will prevent it, but you will get another person to open them six times for you the same day, and you will die in the night succeeding. you, m. nicolai, will die on the scaffold, and you, m. bailly, and you, m. malesherbes." "god be thanked," exclaimed m. richer, "it seems m. cazotte only deals with members of the academy." but cazotte replied instantly: "you also, m. richer, will die on the scaffold, and they who sentence you, and others like you, will be nevertheless philosophers." "and when is all this going to happen?" asked several guests. "within at most six years from to-day," was the reply. laharpe now asked: "and about me you say nothing, cazotte?" the latter replied: "in you, sir, a great miracle will be done; you will be converted and become a good christian." these words relieved the company, and all broke out into merry laughter. now the duchess of gramont also took courage, and said: "we women are fortunately better off than men, revolutions do not mind us." "your sex, ladies," answered cazotte, "will not protect you this time, and however careful you may be not to be mixed up with politics, you will be treated exactly like the men. you also, duchess, with many ladies before and after you, will have to mount the scaffold, and more than that, they will carry you there on the hangman's cart, with your hands bound behind your back." the duchess, perhaps looking upon the whole as a jest, said, smiling: "well, i think i shall at least have a coach lined with black." "no, no," replied cazotte, "the hangman's cart will be your last carriage, and even greater ladies than you will have to ride in it." "surely not princesses of the royal blood?" asked the duchess. "still greater ones," answered cazotte. "but they will not deny us a confessor?" she continued. "yes," replied the other, "only the greatest of all who will be executed will have one." "but what will become of you, m. cazotte?" asked the guests, who began at last to feel thoroughly uncomfortable. "my fate," was the reply, "will be the fate of the man who called out, woe! over jerusalem, before the last siege, and woe! over himself, while a stone, thrown by the enemy, ended his life." with these words cazotte bowed and withdrew from the room. however much of the details may have been subsequently added to the prediction, the fact of such a prophecy has never yet been impugned, and william burt, who was a witness of the scene, emphatically endorses the account. even the stern calvinists have had their religious prophets, among whom du serre is probably the most interesting. he established himself in in the dauphiné, but extended his operations soon into the cevennes, and thus prepared the great uprising of protestants there in , which led to fearful war and general devastation. special gifts of prophecy were accorded to a few generally uneducated persons; but in these they appeared very strikingly, so that, for instance, many young girls belonging to the lowest classes of society, and entirely unlettered, were not only able to foretell coming events, but also to preach with great eloquence and to interpret holy writ. these phenomena became numerous enough to induce the _camisards_, as the rebellious protestants of the cevennes were called, finally to form a regular system of inspiration. they spoke of four degrees of ecstasis: the first indication, the inspiring breath, the prediction, and the gifts; the last was the highest. the spirit of prophecy could be communicated by an inspired person to others; this was generally done by a kiss. even children of three and four years were enabled to foretell the future, and persevered, although they were often severely punished by their parents, whom the authorities held responsible for their misconduct, as it was called. (_theâtre sacré des cevennes_, p. .) nor has this gift of prophesying been noticed only in men of our own faith and our race. an author whose trustworthiness cannot be doubted for a moment, jones forbes, gives in his "oriental memoirs" (london, ), an instance of the prophesying power of east indian magicians, which is as well authenticated as remarkable. a mr. hodges had accidentally made the acquaintance of a young brahmin, who, although unknown to the english residents, was famous among the natives for his great gifts. they became fast friends, and the indian never ceased to urge hodges to remain strictly in the path of duty, as by so doing he was sure to reach the highest honors. in order to enforce his advice he predicted that he would rise from the post he then occupied as resident in bombay to higher places, till he would finally be appointed governor. the prediction was often discussed among hodges' friends, and when fortune favored him and he really obtained unusually rapid preferment, he began to rely more than ever on the indian's prediction. but suddenly a severe blow shattered all his hopes. a rival of his, spencer, was appointed governor, and hodges, very indignant at what he considered an act of unbearable injustice, wrote a sharp and disrespectful letter to the governor and council of the company. the result was his dismissal from the service and the order to return to europe. before embarking he sent once more for his friend, who was then living at one of the sacred places, and when he came informed him of the sad turn in his affairs and reproached him with his false predictions. the indian, however, was in no way disconcerted, but assured hodges that although his adversary had put his foot on the threshold, he would never enter the palace, but that he, hodges, would, in spite of appearances, most surely reach the high post which he had promised him years ago. these assurances produced no great effect, and hodges was on the point of going on board the ship that was to carry him to europe, when another vessel sailed into the harbor, having accomplished the voyage out in a most unusually short time, and brought new orders from england. the court of directors had disapproved of spencer's conduct as governor of bengal, revoked his appointment, dismissed him from service, and ordered hodges to be installed as governor of bombay! from that day the brahmin obtained daily more influence over the mind of his english friend, and the latter undertook nothing without having first consulted the strangely gifted native. it became, however, soon a matter of general remark, that the brahmin could never be persuaded to refer in his predictions to the time beyond the year , as he had never promised hodges another post of honor than that which he now occupied. the explanation of his silence came but too soon, for in the night of the d of february, , hodges died suddenly, and thus ended his brilliant career, verifying his friend's prophecy in every detail. the divining rod. the relations in which some men stand to nature are sometimes so close as to enable them to make discoveries which are impossible to others. this is, for instance, the case with persons who feel the presence of waters or of metals. the former have, from time immemorial, generally used a wand, the so-called divining rod, which, according to pliny, was already known to the ancient etruscans as a means for the discovery of hidden springs. an italian author, amoretti, who has given special attention to this subject, states that at least every fifth man is susceptible to the influence of water and metals, but this is evidently an overestimate. in recent times many persons have been known to possess this gift of discovering hidden springs or subterranean masses of water, and these have but rarely employed an instrument. catharine beutler, of thurgovia, in switzerland, and anna maria brugger of the same place, were both so seriously affected by the presence of water that they fell into violent nervous excitement when they happened to cross places beneath which larger quantities were concealed, and became perfectly exhausted. in france a class of men, called _sourciers_, have for ages possessed this instinctive power of perceiving the presence of water, and others, like the famous abbé paramelle, have cultivated the natural gift till they were finally enabled, by a mere cursory examination of a landscape, to ascertain whether large masses of water were hidden anywhere, and to indicate the precise spots where they might be found. why water and metals should almost always go hand in hand in connection with this peculiar gift, is not quite clear; but the staff of hermes, having probably the form of the divining rod, was always represented as giving the command over the treasures of the earth, and the orphic hymn (v. ) calls it, hence, the golden rod, producing wealth and happiness. on the other hand, the _aquæ virgo_, the nymph of springs, had also a divining rod in her hand, and numa, inspired by a water nymph, established the worship of waters in connection with that of the dead. for here, also, riches and death seem to have entered into a strange alliance. del rio, in his _disquisitiones magicæ_, mentions thus the zahuri of spain, the lynx-eyed, as he translates the name, who were able on wednesdays and saturdays to discover all the veins of metals or of water beneath the surface, all hidden treasures, and corpses in their coffins. there is at least one instance recorded where a person possessed the power to see even more than the zahuris. this was a portuguese lady, pedegache, who first attracted attention by being able to discover subterranean springs and their connections, a gift which brought her great honors after she had informed the king of all the various supplies of water which were hidden near a palace which he was about to build. shafts were sunk according to her directions, and not only water was found, but also the various soils and stones which she had foretold would have to be pierced. she also seems to have cultivated her talent, for we hear of her next being able to discover treasures, even valuable antique statues, in the interior of houses, and finally she reached such a degree of intuition, that she saw the inner parts of the human body, and pointed out their diseases and defects. savoy seems to be a specially favorable region for the development of this peculiar gift, for if in cornwall one out of every forty men is believed to possess it, in savoy the divining rod is in the hands of nearly every one. but what marks the talent in this case as peculiar is that it is by no means limited to the discovery of water, but extends to other things likewise. a very wealthy family, called collomb, living in cessens, boasted of more than one member who was able, by the aid of the rod and with bandaged eyes, to discover not only pieces of money, but even needles, evidently cases of personal susceptibility to the presence of metals, aided by electric currents. once, at least, the gift was made useful. a number of bags filled with wheat had been stolen from a neighboring house, and the police were unable to discover the hiding-place. at the request of his friends one of the collombs undertook the search with the aid of the divining rod; he soon found the window through which the bags had been handed out; he then followed the track along the banks of the river cheran, and asserted that the thief had crossed to the other side. at that time nothing more was discovered; but soon afterwards a miller living across the river was suspected, the bags were found, and the culprit sent to the galleys. (_revue savoisienne_, april , .) dr. mayo mentions, mainly upon the authority of george fairholm, a number of instances in which persons belonging to all classes of society have exhibited the same gift, but ascribes its efficacy to the presence of currents of od. the divining rod, originally a twig of willow or hazel, is often made of metal, and the impression prevails that in such cases an electric current, arising from the subterranean water or metals, enters the diviner's body by the feet, passes through him, and finally affects the two branches of the rod, which represent opposite poles. it is certain that when the electric current is interrupted, the power of the divining rod is suspended. dr. mayo tells us of a lady of his acquaintance in southampton, who at his request used a divining rod of copper and iron wire, made after the fashion of the usual hazel rod; it answered the purpose fully, but when the ends touched by her hands were covered with sealing-wax, it became useless; as soon as she put her fingers in contact with the unprotected wire, the power instantly returned. this certainly seemed to be strong evidence of the existence of an electric current. nevertheless, many believe that the divining rod acts in all cases simply as an extension of the arms, and thus serves to make the vibrations of the muscles more distinct. it is by this theory they explain the fact which has caused serious trouble to careful inquirers like count tristan and dr. mayo, that the gift of using the divining rod varies with the state of health in the individuals in whom it has been discovered. vii. possession. "thereupon st. theophilus made a pact with the devil." --acta, s. s., february. many forms of insanity, it is well known, are accompanied by the fixed idea that the sufferer is continually associated with another being, a friend or an enemy, a man, an animal, or a mere shadow. somnambulists, also, not unfrequently fancy that they obtain their exceptional knowledge of hidden things, not by intuition or instinct, but through the agency of a medium, whom they look upon as an angel or a demon. there is, however, a third class of cases, far more formidable than either of those mentioned, in which the mind is disturbed, and magic phenomena are produced by an agency apparently entirely independent of the patient himself. such are possession, vampirism and zoanthropy--three frightful forms of human suffering, which are fortunately very rare, being limited to certain localities in space, to a few short periods in time, and to men of the lowest grade only. possession is that appalling state of mind which makes the patient believe that he is in the power of a foreign evil being, which has for the time full control over his body. this power it abuses by plaguing the body in every imaginable way, by distorting the features till they assume a scornful, diabolical expression, and above all, by causing the sufferer to give utterance to cynical remarks and horrible blasphemy. all these phenomena are based upon the division of the patient's individuality, which cannot be remedied by any effort of his own, and which makes him look upon the evil principle in his nature as something outside of himself, and no longer under his control. the phenomena which accompany possession are too fearful in their nature, and yet at the same time too exceptional to keep us altogether and easily from believing, as many thoughtful and even pious men have thought, that in these cases a real demon takes possession of the afflicted. the bitter hatred against religion, which is always a symptom of possession, would naturally tend to enforce such a presumption. the possessed know not only their own sins, but also those of the bystanders, and use this knowledge with unsparing bitterness and cruel scorn; at the same time they feel the superiority of others with whom they may come in contact, as the demoniacs of the bible never failed to recognize in christ the son of god. from the numerous cases of modern possession which have been investigated, we derive the following information as to its real nature. possession is invariably a kind of insanity, which is accompanied by exceptional powers, producing magic phenomena; it is also invariably preceded by some grave disorder or dangerous disease. the former may be of purely mental nature, for violent coercion of will, sudden and subversive nervous shocks or long-continued enforcement of a hateful mode of life, are apt to produce the sad effect. hence its frequent occurrence in monasteries, orphan asylums and similar institutions, where this kind of insanity is, moreover, liable to become epidemic. at other times the cause is a trivial one, and then a peculiar predisposition must be presumed which only needed a decisive act to bring the disturbed mind to its extremity. but possession is not merely an affection of the mind, it is also always a disease of the body, which in the bewildered and disordered imagination of the patient becomes personified in the shape of a demon; hence the graver the disease, the fiercer the demon. as sickness worries the patient, robs him of his appetite and makes all he used to like distasteful to him, so the demon also suffers no enjoyment; interferes with every pleasure, and consistently rages especially against religion, which alone could give consolation in such cases. the outbursts of rage in demoniacs, when efforts are made to exorcise or convert them, even although nothing but prayers may be attempted, is ascribed to an instinctive repugnance of the sufferers for means which they feel to be utterly inappropriate to their case--very much as if men, mad with hunger, were to be fed with moral axioms. possession is finally sometimes limited to parts of the body; as when a demoniac is spoken of who was dumb (matt. ix. ), and another who was blind and dumb (matt. xii. ). in other cases the body is endowed with supernatural strength, and four or five powerful men have been known to be scarcely able to hold a frail girl of fifteen. a peculiar feature in possession is, that during the most violent attacks of apparent fury, accompanied by hideous cries and frightful contortions, the pulse is not quickened and the physical strength of the patient does not seem in the least diminished. the disease, however, naturally affects his whole system and exhausts it in time. the possessed man, who unlike somnambulists retains, during the paroxysms, full control over all his senses, never speaks of the demon that possesses him, but the demon speaks of him as of a third person, and at the same time of himself, a feature which powerfully contributes to the popular belief of actual demons dwelling in these unfortunate persons. and yet, after the paroxysm is over, the poor sufferer knows nothing of the horrible things he has done, and of the fearful words he has uttered; if he is told what has occurred, he is terribly shocked, and bitterly repents his misdoings. the paroxysms are twofold: in the body they appear as violent convulsions accompanied by a contraction of the throat and the _globulus hystericus_; saliva forms in abundance, black, coal-like lumps are thrown up and the breath is hot and ill-smelling. in this mental form they appear as a raging of the demon against the possessed and against religion--in fact a struggle of the patient with himself and his former convictions. occasionally the good principle within him assumes, in contradistinction to the demon who personifies the evil principle, the form of a guardian angel, who comforts the poor sufferer as he is tossed to and fro like a ship in a tempest, and promises him assistance. nor is the demon always alone; there may be, as holy writ teaches, seven, thousands, or their name may be "legions," for these visionary beings are only so many representatives of certain evil principles at work in the soul of the possessed. some patients have been enabled to trace this connection and to discover that each symptom of their disease was thus personified by a separate demon to whom in their paroxysms they ascribed the infliction: lucifer caused pricking and stinging pains, anzian tearing and scratching, junian convulsions of limbs, etc. the fearful suffering which demoniacs have to undergo and the still more harassing conflicts in their soul drive them frequently to despair and engender thoughts of suicide. during these paroxysms the struggle between light and darkness, heaven and hell, eternal bliss and damnation, angel and devil, is carried on with such energy and dramatic truthfulness that those who witness it are apt to become deeply excited and often suffer not a little from the violent transitions from sympathy to horror and from heartfelt pity to unspeakable disgust. as soon as the dualism in the soul relaxes, and with it the disease becomes milder, the demon also grows more quiet; a happy moment of rest ensues, which the exorciser calls the period of conversion; and when this has once taken place the patient is no longer able to distinguish the demon as apart from himself, the contradistinction exists no more, and he is reconciled to his true self. there is no instance known in which an intelligent, well-educated person has become possessed; the terrible misfortune falls exclusively upon rude and coarse natures, a fact which explains the coarseness and rudeness of so-called demons. medicinal remedies are seldom of much avail, as the disease has already reached a stage in which the mind is at least as much affected as the body. exorcising has frequently been successful, but only indirectly, through the firm faith which the sufferer still holds in his innermost heart. the great dogma that christ has come into this world to destroy the works of the evil one, has probably been inculcated into his mind from childhood up, and can now begin once more, after long obscuration, to exercise its supreme power. the cure depends, however, not only on the presence of such faith, but rather on the supremacy which the idea of christ's power gains over the idea of the devil's power. hence the symptoms of possession not unfrequently cease under a fervent invocation of the saviour, if the exorciser is able by his superior energy of will to create in the patient a firm faith in the power of the holy name. this expulsion of the demon is, of course, nothing more than the abandonment of the struggle by the evil principle in the sufferer's soul, by which the good impulses become once more dominant, and a healthy, natural state of mind and body is restored. it must, however, not be overlooked that the views of possession have changed essentially in different nations and ages. at the time of christ's coming the belief in actual possession, the dwelling of real demons in the body of human beings, was universal, and to this belief the language of holy writ naturally adapts its records of miracles. the kabbalah as well as the talmud contain full accounts of a kingdom of hell, opposed to the heavenly kingdom, with smaal as head of all satanism or evil spirits, defying jehovah. the latter are allowed to dwell upon earth side by side with the sons of adam, and occasionally to possess them and to live in their souls as in a home of their own. in other cases it was the spirit of a deceased person which, condemned for sins committed during life to wander about as a demon, received permission to enter the soul of a living being. the new testament mentions at least seven cases of possession, from the woman whose suffering was simply ascribed to the devil's agency, to mary magdalene who was relieved of seven demons, and the gadarene, who had a "legion" of devils. the catholic church also has always taught the existence of evil spirits; doctrinal works, however, mention only one, diabolus or satanas. although the church adheres consistently to the theory of actual possession, it teaches that demons cannot wholly take possession of a human soul, but only force it to obedience or accept voluntary submission. hence their power over the body also never becomes absolute, but is always shared with the soul of the sufferer. among protestants many orthodox believers look upon possession as a mere delusion practised by the evil one; others admit its existence, but attribute it to the souls of deceased persons and not to demons. this was the doctrine of the ancient greeks, who, like the romans, seem to have known but a few rare cases of possession, which they ascribed to departed spirits. thus philostratus, in his life of apollonius (l. iii. ch. ), mentions a young man who was for two years possessed by a demon pretending to be the spirit of a soldier killed in battle. nearly all nations on earth have records of possession. thus cases occurring in china and japan and in the indies are attributed to the influence of certain deities, as the hindoos know neither a hell nor a devil. early travelers, like blom and rochefort, report, in like manner, that in some of the islands of the caribbean sea evil spirits are believed to obtain at times possession of women and then to enable them to foretell the future. according to ellis the inhabitants of the sandwich islands were much plagued by evil spirits dwelling in some of their brethren. it was only towards the latter part of the last century that possession was found to be nothing more than a peculiar disease arising from the combination of an unsound mind with an unsound body. this discovery was first made by farmer in england, and by semler in germany; since that time the symptoms of the character of the affection have been very generally studied and thoroughly investigated. thus it has been discovered that similar phenomena are occasionally observed in typhus and nervous fevers. first the patients fancy they feel somebody breathing by their side, or blowing cold air upon their head; after long unconsciousness they are apt to imagine that they are double, and have been known to hesitate where to carry the spoon containing their medicine. in still more marked cases, persons who have suffered from the effects of some great calamity, and have thus been brought to the verge of the grave, have even acted two different individualities, of which one was pious and the other impious, or one speaking the patient's native tongue and the other a foreign language. as they recovered and as the return of health brought back bodily and mental strength, this dualism also ceased to be exhibited during the paroxysm, and finally disappeared altogether. possession is generally announced some time beforehand by premonitory symptoms, but the first cause is not always easily ascertained. when we are told that certain cases have originated in a hastily spoken word, a fierce curse or an outburst of passion, we only learn thus what was the first occasion on which the malady has been noticed, but not what was the first cause. this lies almost invariably in moral corruption; the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of the heart are by far the most frequent sources of the frightful disease. occasionally a very great and sudden grief, like the unexpected death of a beloved person, or too great familiarity with evil thoughts in books or in conversation, produce the same effect--in fact all the various causes which result in insanity may produce also possession. nor must serious bodily injuries be forgotten. a student of the university of halle considered himself possessed, and the case puzzled experienced physicians for some time, till it was ascertained that he had received a violent blow upon the head, which required trepanning. before the operation could be undertaken, however, matter began to ooze out from the ear, and he suddenly was relieved from the paroxysms and all thoughts of possession. convents are naturally very frequently scenes of possession--the inmates are either troubled by bitter remorse for sins which have led them to seek refuge in a holy place, where they cannot find peace, or they succumb to the rigor of severe discipline and are unable to endure the constant privation of food or sleep. the sin against the holy ghost, which unfortunate persons have imputed to themselves, has produced many a case of possession. when the mind is thus predisposed by great anguish of soul or a long-continued inward struggle, the most trifling incident suffices in determining the outbreak of the disease. one patient became possessed because his wife told him to go to the devil, and another because he had in jest exorcised a demon in a playmate; now a man curses himself in a moment of passion, and then a boy drinks hastily a glass of cold water when overheated, and both fall victims to the disease. the magic phenomena accompanying possession are by far the most remarkable within the whole range of modern magic, but a number of the more striking are frequently identical with those seen in religious ecstasy. demoniacs also exhibit the traces of injuries inflicted by demons, as saints show the stigmas, and their wounds heal as little as those of stigmatized persons. they share in like manner with religious enthusiasts paroxysms during which they remain suspended in the air, fly up to the ceiling or are carried to great distances without touching the ground. the strength of the possessed is amazing. a monk, known in ecclesiastical history as brother rafael of rimini, could not be bound by any ropes or chains; as soon as he was left alone he broke the strongest fetters, raced up the roof of the church, ran along the topmost ridge, and was often found sitting on the great bell, to which no one else had ever been able to gain access. at last the demons led him to the top of the steeple itself and were about to hurl him down, as he said; the abbot and his monks and an immense crowd of people assembled below, and besought him to invoke the aid of their patron saint so as to save body and soul. it does not appear by what miraculous influence a change was wrought in the poor man; but he did raise his voice, which had not been heard to address a saint for many years, and instantly his mind returned, he found his way down to the church and was cured. the most frequent symptom in possession is a strong antipathy against everything connected with religion; the holy names of god and christ, the presence of priests, the singing of hymns and the reciting of prayers, excite intense pain, and provoke outbursts of fury. even young children manifest this aversion, especially when they have previously been forced to attend church, and to engage in devotional exercises against their inclination. hence it is, also, that paroxysms are most frequent at the regular hours of divine service, or break forth suddenly at the sight of a procession or the hearing of ringing bells. the symptom itself arises naturally from the imaginary conflict between a good and an evil principle, the latter being continually in arms against anything that threatens to crush its own power. all the other symptoms of this fearful disease occur, also, in st. vitus' dance, in catalepsy, and even in ordinary trances; only they appear more marked, and make a greater impression upon bystanders, because they are apparently caused by a foreign agent, the possessing demon, and not by the patient himself. as the digestive organs are in all such cases sympathetically excited, and seriously affected, a desire for unnatural food is very frequent; the coarsest victuals are preferred; unwholesome, and even injurious substances are eagerly devoured; and medicines as well as strengthening food are vehemently rejected. the sufferer is apt to interpret this as a new plague, his demon refusing him his legitimate sustenance, and compelling him to feed like an animal. one of the most remarkable historical cases of apparent possession accompanied by magic phenomena, was that of mirabeau's grandmother. married when quite young to the old marquis, she tried after his death to protect herself against the temptations of the world, and of her own heart, by ascetic devotion. in her eighty-third year, she was attacked by gout which affected her brain, and she became insane, in a manner which according to the views of her days was called possession. it was found necessary to shut her up in a bare room with a pallet of straw, where no one dared enter but her valet, a man seventy years old, with whom she had fallen in love! for, strange as it may appear, her fearful affliction restored to her the charms of youth; she, who had been reduced to a skeleton by old age and unceasing devotion, suddenly regained the plumpness of her early years, her complexion became fair and rosy, her eyes bright and even, her hair began to grow out once more. but, alas! her tongue, also, had changed; once afraid to utter a word that could be misinterpreted, the unruly member now sent forth speeches of incredible licentiousness, and overwhelmed the old servant with terms of endearment and coarse allusions. at the same time the retired ascetic became a violent blasphemer, and would allow no one to enter her chamber who had not first denied god, threatening to kill him with her own hands if he refused. for four long years the unfortunate lady endured her fearful affliction, till death relieved her of her sufferings--but the student of history traces to her more than one of the startling features in the character of her grandson, the mirabeau of the revolution. (bülau, _geh. gesch._, xii.) relief is generally possible only when a powerful hold has been obtained upon the mind of the patient; after that appropriate remedies may be applied, and the body will be restored to its natural healthy condition. in a few cases remarkable incidents have produced a cure, such as the sudden clanking of chains, or a peculiarly fervent and impressive prayer. even a night's sound sleep, induced by utter exhaustion, has had the happiest effect. it seems as if, the train of thoughts once forcibly interrupted, a return to reason and an abandonment of fixed ideas become possible. even a specially violent paroxysm may be salutary; probably by means of the severe struggle and extreme excitement which it is apt to produce. many patients, under such circumstances, fall prostrate on the ground, losing their consciousness, and awake after a while as from a dream, without being able to remember what has happened. in other cases the hallucination continues to the last moment, and leads the patient to imagine that the demon leaves him in the shape of a black shadow, a bird, or an insect. such recoveries are almost invariably accompanied by violent efforts to discard foreign matters, which have been lodged in the system, and largely contributed to produce the disease. exorcism has, of course, no direct effect: even when the power to "cast out devils" (mark xvi. ) is given, it is not said by what means the casting out is to be accomplished, except that it must be done in the saviour's name. the formalities, carefully regulated and prescribed by many decrees of the church since the third century, do no good except so far as they re-awaken faith, impart hope, and free the mind from distressing doubts. ignatius loyola never cured possessed persons otherwise than by prayer. as early as the sixteenth century a case is recorded clearly illustrating the true nature of exorcism. a demon was, after many fruitless attempts, at last driven out by a particle of the cross of our saviour, but in departing he declared in a loud voice that he knew full well the nature of the piece of wood; it was cut from a gallows and not from the true cross, nevertheless he was forced to go because the exorcist willed it so, and the patient believed in his power. the same rule applies to cures achieved by relics; not that these had any effect, but in the long-cherished faith of the possessed, that they might and could wield such power over evil spirits. the main point is here also the energy of will in the exorciser, and that this special gift is by no means confined to men was strikingly illustrated by a famous lady, the wife of a marquis de la croix, who was a spanish general and viceroy of galicia. in her youth a matchless beauty with almost perfect classical features, she retained an imposing carriage and bewitching grace throughout a long life, and even in old age commanded the admiration of all who came in contact with her, not only by the superiority of her mind but also by the beauty of her eyes and the charming expression of her features. after the death of her husband she had much to endure from neglect in the great world, from sickness and from poverty, doubly hard to bear because standing in painful contrast to the splendor of her former life. the effects of a violent attack of sickness produced at last a partial disturbance of her mind, which showed itself in visions and the power to drive demons from the possessed. her theory was that as the sins of men caused their diseases, and as the devil was the cause of all sins, sickness was invariably produced by demoniac agency; she distinguished, however, between sufferers who had voluntarily given themselves up to sin, and thus to the service of the devil, and those who had unawares fallen into his hands. her practice was simple and safe: she employed nothing but fervent prayer and the imposition of hands, which she had moistened with holy water or oil. in the course of time she found her way to paris, and there met, amid many skeptics, also with countless believers, some of whom belonged not only to the highest classes of society, but even to the sect of free-thinkers, then prominent in the french capital. such were marshal richelieu, count schomberg, an intimate of the famous circle-meeting at baron holbach's house, and even the illustrious buffon. when she was engaged in exorcising, her imposing stature, her imperious eye and commanding voice aided her at least as much as her perfect faith and striking humility, so that her patients, after a short demur, willingly looked upon her as a saint who might, if she but chose, perform miracles. with such a disposition obedience was no longer difficult, and the remarkable lady healed all manners of diseases, from modest toothache to rabid madness. even when she was unsuccessful, as frequently happened, she won all hearts by her marvelous gentleness and humble piety. thus, when a possessed man was brought to her in the presence of an illustrious company, and all her efforts and prayers were fruitless, she placed herself bravely between the enraged man and her friends whom he threatened to attack. he began to foam at the mouth, and amid fearful convulsions and dread imprecations, broke out into a long series of terrible accusations against the poor lady, charging her with all her real and a host of imaginary sins, till she could hardly stand up any longer. she listened, however, with her arms folded over her bosom and her eyes raised to heaven, and when the madman at last sank exhausted to the ground, she fell upon her knees and said to the bystanders: "gentlemen, you see here a punishment ordained by god for the sins of my youth. i deserve this humiliation in your presence, and i would endure it before all paris if i could thus make atonement for my misdeeds." (_mém. du baron de gleichen_, p. .) one of the most fearful features of possession is its tendency to spread like contagion over whole communities. many such cases are recorded in history. the monks of the convent of quercy were thus attacked in , and suffered, from the oldest to the youngest, during four months, incredible afflictions. they ran like dogs through the fields, climbed upon trees, imitated the howling of wild beasts, spoke in unknown tongues, and foretold, at the same time, future events. (goerres, iv. ii.) in the year a similar malady broke out in the orphan house at amsterdam, and seventy poor children became possessed. they also climbed up the walls and on the roofs, swallowed hairs, needles, and pieces of glass and iron, and distorted their features and their limbs in a fearful manner. what, however, made the greatest impression upon the good citizens of the town were the magic phenomena connected with their disease. they spoke to the overseer and even to the chief magistrate of their secret affairs, made known plots hatched against the protestants and foretold events which happened soon after. in a convent of nuns at yssel in the netherlands, a single nun, maria de sains, caused one of the most fearful calamities among her sisters that has ever been known. naturally a woman of superior mind, but carried away by evil passions, she finally succumbed to the struggle between the latter and the strict rules of her retreat; she began to accuse herself of horrible crimes and excesses. the whole country was amazed, for she had passed for a great saint, and now, of a sudden, she confessed that she had murdered numberless little children, disinterred corpses, and carried poor girls to the meeting of witches. all these misdeeds, which existed only in her disordered imagination, she ascribed to the agency of a demon, by whom she was possessed, and before many weeks had passed, every nun and lay sister in the ill-fated convent was possessed in precisely the same manner! one of the most recent cases of possession is reported by bishop laurent of luxemburg, in a pamphlet on the subject. in the year a woman, thirty-four years old, was brought to him who had been possessed since her fifteenth year, and who exhibited the remarkable phenomenon that in her sound moments she spoke no other language but the patois of her native place, while in her paroxysms she used latin, french, and german at will. when the good bishop threatened the demon, the latter attacked him in return, troubling him with nightly visits and suggesting to him sinful doubts of the existence of god and the efficacy of christ's sacrifice. this fact shows how easily such disturbances of mind can be transferred to others, when disease or mental struggles have prepared a way. fortunately the bishop first mastered his own doubts, and, thus strengthened, obtained the same mastery over the possessed woman. he commanded the demon to come out of her, whereupon she fell into convulsions, speaking in a disguised tone of voice; but after a while drew herself up, and now her face was once more free from anguish, and "angel-like." another bishop, who had been requested to exorcise possessed persons in morzine, in the chablais, was not so successful. at this place, in , a little girl, nine years old, in consequence of a great fright, fell into a deathlike sleep, which returned daily, and lasted about fifteen minutes. a month later, another girl, eleven years old, was attacked in the same way, and soon the number of afflicted persons rose to twenty, all girls under twenty years. after a while they declared that they were possessed by demons, and ran wild through the fields, climbed to the top of lofty trees, and fell into violent convulsions. in vain did the local priest and his vicar attempt to arrest the evil; the girls laughed them to scorn. when the civil authorities interfered, they were met with insults and blows; the guilty were fined, but the number steadily increased, and now grown women also were found in the crowd. at last the official reports reached paris, and the minister sent the chief superintendent of insane asylums to the village. he immediately distributed all the affected among the adjoining towns and hamlets, to break off the association, and sent the priest and his vicar to their superior, the bishop of annecy. a few only of the women recovered, several died and one man also succumbed; others, when they returned to morzine, relapsed, and in the malady began to spread once more so fearfully that the bishop of annecy himself came to exorcise the possessed. seventy of them were brought to the church, where the most fearful scenes took place; howling and yelling filled the sacred building, seven or eight powerful men scarcely succeeded in bringing one possessed child to the altar, and when there, the demoniacs broke out in horrible blasphemies. the bishop, exhausted by the intense excitement, and suffering from serious contusions inflicted upon him by the unfortunate women, had to leave the place, unable to obtain any results. even as late as two demons were solemnly exorcised upon an order from the bishop of strasbourg, and with the consent of the prefect of the department. the ceremony took place in the chapel of st. george, in the presence of the lady-abbesses, under the direction of the vicar-general of the diocese, assisted by other dignitaries and the superior of the jesuits. the two boys who were to be relieved had long been plagued with fearful visions and publicly given evidence of being possessed, for "twenty or thirty times they had been led into a public square in the presence of large crowds, and there they had pulled feathers out of a horrible monster which they saw above them in a threatening attitude; these feathers they had handed to the bystanders, who found that when they were burnt they left no ashes." when the two children were brought to the house of the sisters of charity, they became clairvoyant, and revealed to the good ladies, although they had never seen them before, their family relations, their antecedents and many secrets. they also spoke in unknown tongues, and exhibited all the ordinary phenomena of possession. the official report containing these statements, and closing with their restoration to health and reason, is so far trustworthy as it is signed by several hundred persons, among whom the government authorities, officers, professors and teachers are not wanting. there can be little doubt that the dancing mania which broke out repeatedly in various parts of the continent of europe, was a kind of possession. the facts are recorded in history; the explanation only is left as a matter of discussion. in , when a new and magnificent church was to be consecrated, in liege, large numbers of people came from north germany; "men and women, possessed by demons, half naked, wreaths on their heads, and holding each other's hands, performed shameless dances in the streets, the churches, and houses." when they fell down exhausted they had spasms, and convulsions; at their own request, friends came and pressed violently upon their chests, till they grew better. their number soon reached thousands, and other thousands joined them in holland and brabant, although the priests frequently succeeded in exorcising them--whenever their mind was still sound enough to recall their early reverence for holy men and their faith in holy things. some time before, the good people of perugia had taken it into their heads that their sins required expiation, and had begun to scourge themselves publicly in the most cruel manner. the romans were infected soon after, and copied their example; from thence the contagion spread, and soon all over italy men, women, and children were seen inflicting upon themselves fearful punishment in order to drive out the evil spirits by whom they fancied themselves possessed. noble and humble, rich and poor, old and young, all joined the crowds which in the daytime filled squares and streets, and at night, under the guidance of priests, marched with waving banners, and blazing torches, in vast armies through the land. nor can we shut our eyes to the fact that the jumpers and jerkers of the methodist church present to us instances of the same mental disorder, caused by over-excitement, which in earlier days was called possession, and that, hence, these aberrations, also, infinitely varied as they are, according to the temper of men and the habits of the locality in which they occur, must be numbered among the phenomena of modern magic. vampirism. occasionally possession is not attributed to demons, but to deceased men who come by night from their graves, and suck the blood of their victims, whereupon the latter begin to decline and finally die a miserable death, while the buried man lives and thrives upon his ill-gotten food. this is vampirism, the name being derived from the once universal belief that there existed vampires, huge bats, who, whilst fanning sleeping men with their soft wings, feasted upon their life's blood and only left them when they had turned into corpses. popular credulity added a number of horrid details to the general outline, and believed that the wretched victims of vampirism became themselves after death vampires, and thus forever continued the fearful curse. it was long thought that vampirism was known only to the nations of the slavic race, but recent researches have discovered traces of it in the east indies, and in europe among the magyars. even the sanscrit already appears to have had a term of its own for the vampires--pysachas, "hostile beings, eager for the flesh and blood of living men, who gratify their cruel lust mainly at the expense of women when they are asleep, drunk, or insane." careful writers like calmet and others have, it is true, always maintained that, while the existence of vampirism cannot be denied, the phenomena attending it are in all cases the creations of diseased minds only. on the other hand, it is a well-established fact that the bodies of so-called vampires, when exhumed, have been found free from corruption, while in all the corpses around them decomposition had long since begun. in the face of such facts vampirism cannot be dismissed as simply the product of heated and over-excited imaginations, although it must be admitted that its true nature is still to all intents and purposes a profound mystery. according to popular belief the unusual preservation of the corpses indicates that death has not yet obtained full dominion over the bodies, and that hence the soul has not yet departed to its eternal home. a kind of lower organic life, it is said, continues, and as long as this lasts, the soul wanders about, as in a dream, among the familiar scenes of its earthly life and makes itself known to the friends of its former existence. the life thus extended requires blood in order to sustain itself, and hence the minds of those who come in magic contact with the soul of a vampire, become filled with sanguinary thoughts, which present themselves to their imagination as the desire to suck blood and thus lead to the actual performance. the fact that vampirism is epidemic, like many similar mental diseases, has led to the belief that the living are brought into close connection with the dead and are infected by them, while in reality there is no bond between them but a common misfortune. nor must it be forgotten that in this disease, as in the plague, the mere thought of being seized often suffices to cause death without any warning symptoms, and hence the great number of deaths in localities where vampirism has been thought to prevail. for very few of those who are attacked succeed in escaping, and if they survive they retain for life the marks left by their wounds. the penalty, moreover, is not always undeserved; vampirism rarely if ever attacks men of pure hearts and sober minds; it is found, on the contrary, exclusively among semi-barbarous nations and only in persons of rude, savage, and sinful disposition. traces of vampirism have been discovered in the most distant parts of the earth, and often without apparent connection. the "bruholaks" of greece, genuine vampires whose appearance was ascribed to the direct influence of the evil one, may possibly have been imported by the numerous immigrants of slavic origin (huet, _penseés diverses_, paris, ), but in finland also the belief is, according to castren, almost universal, that the spirits of the departed have the power to vex and torment persons in their sleep, and to afflict them with sorrow and disease. in the sunda and molucca islands genuine vampirism is well known, and the dyaks of borneo also believe in an evil spirit who sucks the blood of living persons till they expire. poland and western russia have, however, been for two centuries the stage on which most of these dread tragedies have occurred. men and women were reported to have been seen in broad daylight sucking the blood of men and beasts, while in other cases dogs and even wolves were suspected of being upires or vampires, as blood-suckers are called in most slavic dialects. the terror grew as these reports found their way into newspapers and journals, till fear drove men and women to resort to the familiar remedy of mixing blood with the meal used for their bread; they escaped not by any healing powers inherent in the horrid mixture, but thanks to the faith they had in the efficacy of the prescription and the moral courage exhibited in its application. to prevent the spreading of the epidemic the bodies of the vampires were disinterred, and when found bleeding, were decapitated or impaled or burned in public. in some parts of hungary the disease appeared in the shape of a white spectre which pursued the patients; they declined visibly and died in a week or a fortnight. it was mainly in this country that physicians attending the disinterment of suspected bodies noticed the presence of more or less considerable quantities of blood, which was still fluid and actually caused the cheeks to look reddish. some of the witnesses even thought they noticed an effort to breathe, faint pulsations, and a slight change of features; these were, however, evidently nothing more than the effects of currents of air which accompanied the opening of the coffin. it was here also that animals were first believed to have been attacked by vampires; cows were found early in the morning bleeding profusely from a wound at the neck, and horses standing in their stalls trembling, covered with white foam, and so thoroughly terrified as to become unfit for use. another period of excitement due to accounts of vampirism comprised the middle of last century, when all europe was deeply agitated on the subject. the emperor of germany and other monarchs appointed committees of learned men to investigate the matter; theologians and skeptics, philosophers and physicians, took up the discussion, and hundreds of volumes were published on the mysterious question, but no satisfactory result was ever obtained. many declared the whole a fable or merely the effect of diseased imaginations, others looked upon it as a malignant and epidemic disease, and not a few as the unmistakable work of the devil. learned men searched the writings of antiquity, and soon found more traces of the fearful disease than they had expected. they discovered that in thessaly, epirus, and some parts of the pieria, men were reported by ancient writers as wandering about at night and tearing all whom they met to pieces. the lamiæ of the greeks and the strigæ of the romans evidently belonged to the same category, while the later tympanites of the greeks were persons who had died while under the ban of the church and were therefore doomed to become vampires. the slavic population of moravia and bohemia was in those days especially rich in instances of vampirism, and so many occurred in hungary that the emperor charles iv. intrusted the investigation of the matter to a prince of würtemberg, before whom a number of cases were fully authenticated. men who had died years before, were seen to return to their former homes, some in the daytime, some at night, and the following morning those whom they had visited were found dead and weltering in their blood. in a single village seventeen persons died thus within three months, and in many instances, when bodies were disinterred, they were found looking quite alive. at this time the sorbonne at paris also took up the subject, but came to no conclusion, save that they disapproved of the practice of disinterring bodies, "because vampires, as cataleptics, might be restored to life by bleeding or magnetic treatment," according to the opinion of the learned dr. piérard. (_revue spirit._, iv.) here we come at last to the grain of truth around which this mass of popular superstition has gradually accumulated, and the ignorance of which has caused hundreds of innocent human beings to die a miserable death. there can be no doubt that cases of "suspended animation" or apparent death have alone given rise to the whole series of fearful tales of vampirism. the very words of a recital belonging to the times, and to the districts where vampirism was prevalent, prove the force of this supposition. erasmus francisci states that, in the duchy of krain, a man was buried and then suspected of being a vampire. when disinterred his face was found rosy, and his features moved as if they attempted to smile; even his lips opened as if gasping for air. a crucifix was held before his eyes and a priest called out with a loud voice: "peace! this is jesus christ who has rescued thy soul from the torment of hell, and suffered death for thee!" the sound seemed to penetrate to his ear, and slowly a few tears began to trickle down his cheeks. after a short prayer for his poor soul, his head was ordered to be cut off; a suppressed cry was heard, the body turned over as if still alive, and when the head was severed a quantity of blood ran into the grave. it was as clear a case of a living man who had been buried before death as has ever been authenticated. nor are such cases as rare as is popularly believed. high authorities assure us that, for instance, after imperfect poisoning, in several kinds of suffocation, and in cases of new-born children who become suddenly chilled, a state of body is produced which presents all the symptoms of complete suspension of the functions of life. such apparent death is, according to the same high medical authority, a period of complete rest, based upon a suspension of the activity of the heart, the lungs, and all spontaneous functions, extending frequently to the sense of touch, and the intellect even. at the same time the natural heat of the body sinks until it seems to have disappeared altogether. the duration of this exceptional state is uncertain, at times the patient awakes suddenly, and in full possession of all his faculties; in other cases external means have to be employed to restore life. among many well-authenticated cases of this kind, two of special interest are mentioned by dr. mayo. cardinal espinosa, the minister of philip ii. of spain, died after a short period of suffering. his rank required that he should be embalmed, and his body was opened for the purpose. at the moment when lung and heart were laid open to view, the surgeon observed that the latter was still beating, and the cardinal, awaking, had actually strength enough to seize with his hand the knife of the operator. the other case is that of a well-known french writer, the abbé prévost, who fell down dead in the forest of chantilly. his apparently lifeless body was found, and carried to a priest's house in the neighborhood. the surgeon ascribed his death to apoplexy; but the authorities ordered a kind of coroner's inquest, and the body was opened. during the operation the abbé suddenly uttered a cry of anguish--but it was too late! if a certain number of such cases of apparent death has really given rise to the faith in vampirism, then it is equally possible to suppose, that this kind of trance--for which there may exist a special predisposition in one or the other race--may become at times epidemic. persons of peculiar nervousness will be ready to be affected, and a locality in which this has occurred may soon obtain an unenviable reputation. even where the epidemic does not appear in full force, a disturbed state of the nervous system will be apt to lead to dreams by night, and to gossip in the daytime, on the fatally attractive subject, and the patient will soon dream, or really imagine, that a person who has died of the disease has appeared to him by night, and drawn his strength from him, or, in his excited fancy, sucked his life's blood. by such means even the popular way of speaking of nocturnal visits made by the "vampire's ghost" is not so entirely unfounded as would appear at first sight, and the superstition is easily shown to be not altogether absurd, but to be based upon a small substructure of actual truth. it is remarkable, however, that the germanic race has never furnished any instances of vampirism, although their ancient faith in a walhalla, where their departed heroes feast sumptuously, and their custom to place food in the graves of their friends would have seemed most likely to reconcile them to the idea that men continue to live in their graves. how sadly persistent, on the other hand, such superstitions are among the lower races, and in specially ignorant communities, may be gathered from the fact that, as late as , two corpses were disinterred by the peasants of a village of galicia, and decapitated. the people believed them to be vampires, and to have caused a long-protracted spell of bad weather! zoanthropy. even more fearful yet than vampirism is the disease, very common already in the days of antiquity, which makes men think that they have changed into beasts, and then act as such, according to the logic of insanity. petronius is probably the first to mention, in his "feast of trimalchio," a case of lycanthropy, when niceros relates how someone who was journeying with him threw off his garments, changed into a wolf and ran away into the forest. when he returned home, his account continues, he found that a wolf had fallen upon his flock, but had been wounded by a servant in the neck with a lance. thereupon he goes to inquire after his fellow-traveler, and finds him sick in bed with a physician by his side, who binds up an ugly wound in his neck. the well-known writer took this episode from the arcadians, a rude nation of shepherds, whose flocks were frequently attacked by wolves, and among whom stories of men changed into wild beasts, were quite current. nor must we forget, among historic personages, the daughter of king proetus of argos, who believed herself changed into a cow; and of nebuchadnezzar, who according to his own touching account "was driven from meat, did eat grass as oxen, and his body was wet with the dew of heaven, till his hairs were grown like eagle's feathers, and his nails like bird's claws." (daniel iv. .) the early days of christianity are naturally full of incidents of this kind, but what is remarkable, zoanthropy was then already treated as a mere delusion. the holy man macarius once saw a large procession approaching his hermitage in egypt; it was headed by a number of persons who led a large and imposing-looking woman by a bridle, and followed by a crowd of people of all ages. when they came near they told his disciples that the woman had been changed into a mare, and had thus remained for three days and nights without food--would the saint pray over her and restore her to her natural condition? the delusion was so forcibly contagious that the disciples also forthwith saw a mare, and not a woman, and refused to admit the animal to the presence of the hermit! fortunately the latter had retained his self-control; he rebuked his followers, saying: "you are the real beasts, that imagine you see something which does not exist. this woman has not been changed, but your eyes are deluded." then he poured holy water over her, and at once everybody saw her once more in her natural shape. he dismissed her and her escort with the words: "go more frequently to church and take the holy sacrament; then you will escape such fearful punishment." during the middle ages a similar disease existed in many parts of europe; men were changed into dogs or wolves, sometimes as a divine punishment for great crimes, at other times in consequence of a delusion produced by satan. such unfortunate men walked on all fours, attacked men and beasts, but especially children, killed and devoured them. they actually terrified many people into believing as confidently in this delusion as they believed in it themselves! for this is one of the specially fearful magic phenomena of zoanthropy that it is apt to produce in healthy persons the same delusion as in the sufferer. many cases also are recorded of persons lying in deep sleep, produced by narcotic ointments, who, seeing visions, fancied that they were acting like wolves. in the year such a disease raged as an epidemic in the jura mountains, till the french parliament determined to make an end of it by treating all the afflicted either as insane or as persons possessed by the devil and therefore deserving instant death. among slavic nations and the magyars lycanthropy is so closely connected with vampirism that it is not always easy to draw the line between the two diseases. there can be no doubt, however, that it is merely a variety of possession, arising from the same unhappy state in which dualism is developed in the soul, and two wills contend with each other for superiority to the grievous injury of mind and body. the only distinctive feature is this, that in lycanthropy not only the functions of the brains but also those of the skin are disordered, and hence an impression arises that the latter is hairy and shaggy after the manner of wild beasts. the german währwolf (were-wolf or man-wolf) is the same as the lycanthropos of the scythians and greeks and the _versipellis_ of the romans; he was in german mythology connected with woden. hence, probably, the readiness with which the disease during the middle ages took hold of the minds of germans; but at that period nearly all the nations of europe firmly believed in the reality of such changes. as late even as the beginning of the sixteenth century cases of this kind occurred in france, where the possessed were known as _loups-garoux_. a young man of besançon was thus brought before the councilor of state, _de l'ancre_, at bordeaux, and accused of roving like a wild animal through the neighboring forests. he confessed readily that he was a huntsman in the service of his invisible master, the devil, who had changed him into a wolf and forced him to range by the side of another more powerful wolf through the country. the poor fellow shared the usual fate of his fellow-sufferers, who were either subjected to a sharp treatment of exorcism or simply executed as heretical criminals. in our day lycanthropy is almost entirely limited to servia and wallachia, volhynia and white russia. there, however, the disease breaks out frequently anew, and popular belief knows a variety of means by which a man may be changed into a wolf; the animal differs, however, from a genuine wolf in his docked tail and his marked preference for the blood of young children. in abyssinia there exists, according to pearce, a belief that men are occasionally changed into hyenas--the wolves of that country--but this sad privilege is limited to workers in clay and iron, called booda among the amharas, who wear a gold earring of special form as a distinction from other inferior castes. it will thus be seen that, like all other varieties of possession, zoanthropy also is simply a kind of insanity, and our amusement at the marvelous conduct of werewolves will vanish, if we recall the entire change produced in man by the loss of reason. in that sad condition he endures fatigue, cold or heat, and hunger as no healthy man ever can learn to do; he does not mind the severest castigation, for his body is almost insensible, it ceases to be susceptible to contagious diseases and requires, in sickness, double or treble doses of medicine. if we once know the precise nature of an insane person's hallucination, his actions will be apt to appear quite consistent, and thus lycanthropy also not only produces the fine connection of a change into a wolf, but causes the sufferer to conduct himself in all his ways like the animal which he represents. viii. magnetism. "great is the power of the hand." --st. augustine, _op._, iv. . mesmer, who was the first to make the anæsthetic effects of certain passages of the hand over the bodies of patients known to the public, sought originally to explain them by the agency of electricity; but as early as he ascribed them to magnetism. from that day he employed magnets, and by passing them over the affected parts of his patients, he performed remarkable cures for many years in the city of vienna. he looked upon the magnet as the physician, which cured the patient in the same way in which it attracted iron. soon after, however, he became acquainted with the famous father gassner, of ratisbon, who had obtained precisely the same results, without a magnet, by simple manipulations, and, henceforth, he also treated his patients with the hand only; but he retained the old name, looking now upon himself, and others who were endowed in the same manner, as possessing the powers of a strong magnet. in the meantime one of his pupils, the marquis de puységur, had quite accidentally discovered the peculiar nature of somnambulism, and with rare foresight profited by the moments of clear consciousness which at times interrupted the trance, in order to learn from his patients themselves the means of curing their diseases. he had from that moment devoted all the leisure of his life to the study of these singular but most beneficial phenomena, employing only the simplest manipulations in place of the more exciting means used by mesmer, and doing an immense amount of good by his judicious cures. mesmer, in the course of time, adopted the better method of his former pupil, and now his system was complete. he used magnetism for purely practical purposes: he cured diseases by throwing well-qualified persons into the peculiar sleep produced by magnetizing them, and availed himself of the effects of this half-sleep upon their varied constitutions, for his curative purposes. at the same time, however, he ascribed the influence which he claimed to have over persons whom he had thus magnetized, to a most delicate, all-pervading medium; this, he maintained, was the sole cause of motion, light, heat, and life itself in the universe, and this he stated he was communicating by his process of magnetizing in a sufficient degree to his patients to produce startling but invariably beneficial results. it is well known how his removal from vienna, where he had begun his remarkable career, to paris, increased in almost equal proportions the number of enthusiastic admirers, and of bitter adversaries. in spite of an unfavorable judgment rendered by a committee of the academy in , his new doctrines spread rapidly through all the provinces; so-called harmonic societies were formed in almost every town, and numerous institutions sprang up founded upon the new system of magnetizing patients. it is curious that of the nine members of that committee, among whom franklin was not the least renowned, only one, the great savant jussieu, refused to sign the report "because it was founded upon a few isolated facts," and sent in a separate memoir, in which he described animal heat as the universal agent of life. equally curious objections were made by others; thus in another report of the academy, the king was requested to prohibit the practice of magnetism, because it was "dangerous to the morals of the people," and in the great hospital of the charité, magnetic treatment was forbidden, because "the new system had caused for a long time warm discussions between the best informed men of science!" urged by repeated petitions, the academy appointed, in , a second committee to investigate the matter, which finally reported a firm conviction of the genuineness and efficacy of magnetism, and recommended a further examination of this important branch of psychology and natural science. a permanent committee was thereupon directed to take charge of the matter, before which a very large number of important facts were authenticated; but in , and subsequently, once more, unfavorable reports were laid before the august body and adopted by small majorities. in england magnetism met with fierce and violent opposition, the faculty being no little incensed by this new and unexpected competitor for fees and reputation. dr. elliotson, a professor in the university of london, and director of a large hospital, had actually to give up his place, because of the hostility engendered by his advocacy of the new doctrine. afterwards the controversy, though by no means less bitter, was carried on with more courtesy, and the subject received, on the whole, all the attention it deserved. germany alone has legally sanctioned magnetism as a scientific method within the range of the healing art, and the leading powers, like prussia, austria, and saxony, have admitted its practice in public hospitals. unfortunately, much deception and imposture appeared from the beginning in company with the numerous genuine cases, and led many eminent men to become skeptics. the russian government has limited the permission to practice by magnetic cure to "well-informed" physicians; but the holy curia, the pope's authority, after admitting magnetism, first as a well-established fact, has subsequently prohibited it by a decree of the inquisition ( st april, ) as conducive to "infidelity and immorality." in spite of all these obstacles, magnetism, in its various branches of somnambulism and clairvoyance, of mesmerism and hypnotism, is universally acknowledged as a valuable doctrine, and has led to the publication of a copious literature. magnetizers claim--and not without some show of reason--that their art was not unknown to antiquity, and is especially referred to in holy writ. they rest their claim upon the importance which has from time immemorial been ascribed to the action of the hand as producing visions and imparting the gift of prophecy. when elisha was called upon to predict the issue of the war against moab, he sent for a minstrel, "and it came to pass, when the minstrel played, that the _hand_ of the lord came upon him." ( kings iii. .) in like manner "the _hand_ of the lord was upon ezekiel" among the captives by the river of cheber and he prophesied (ezekiel i. ); years after he says again: "the _hand_ of the lord was upon me in the evening" (xxxiii. ), and once more: "the _hand_ of the lord was upon me" (xl. ). it is evident that according to biblical usage in these cases the manner of acting attributed to god is described after the usage prevailing among men, and that the "hand upon men" represented the usual method of causing them to fall into a trance. but this placing the hand upon a person was by no means confined to cases of visions; it was employed also in blessings and in sacrifices, in consecrations and miraculous cures. daniel felt a hand touching him, which "set me upon my knees and the palms of my hands" (dan. x. ), while soon after the same hand "strengthened him" ( ); and even in the new testament a high privilege is expressed by the words: "the _hand_ of the lord was with him." (luke i. .) in other cases a finger is substituted for the hand, as when the magicians of pharaoh said: "this is the finger of god" (exodus viii. ), and the two tables of testimony are said to have been "written with the finger of god" (exodus xxxi. ); in the same manner christ said: "if i with the finger of god cast out devils." (luke xi. .) what makes this reference to finger and hand in eastern magic and in biblical language peculiarly interesting is the fact that neither greeks nor romans ever referred in like manner to such an agency. it is evident that these nations, possessing the ancient wisdom of the east and the revealed knowledge of the chosen people, were alone fully acquainted with the power which the hand of man can exercise under peculiar circumstances, and hence looked upon it in god also, as the instrument by which visions were caused and miracles performed. hence, no doubt, also the mysterious hand, which from time immemorial has been used as one of the emblems of supreme power, often called the hand of justice, but evidently emblematic of the "hand of god," which rests upon the monarch who rules "by the grace of god." magnetizers connect all these uses made of the hand with their own method, which consists almost invariably in certain passes made with the whole hand or with one or more fingers. whatever may be thought of this connection between the meaning of the "hand" in biblical language, and the magnetism of our day, there can be no doubt as to the fact that the ancients were already quite familiar with the phenomena which have startled our century as something entirely new. the so-called temple-sleep of the greeks was almost identical with modern somnambulism; the only essential difference being that then the gods of olympus were seen, and lent their assistance, in the place of the saints of the middle ages, and the mediums of our own day. incense, mineral waters, narcotic herbs, and decoctions of strychnos or halicacabum, were, according to pliny, employed to produce the peculiar sleep. ("hist. nat." l. xxi. ch. .) the patients fell asleep while lying on the skins of recently killed animals in the temples of Æsculapius, and other beneficent deities, and in their sleep had dreams with revelations prescribing the proper remedies. the priests also, sometimes, dreamt for their visitors--for a consideration--or, at least, interpreted the dreams of others. even magnetism by touch was perfectly familiar to the ancients, as appears from words of plautus: "_quid, si ego illum tractim tangam, ut dormiat?_" (what if i were to touch him at intervals so that he should fall asleep?) plutarch even speaks of magnetizing by touching with the feet, as practised by pyrrhus. other writers discovered that the sibyls of rome, as well as the druids of the celts, had been nothing more than well-trained somnambulists, and ere long distinct traces of similar practices were found in the annals of the egyptians also. one of the earliest cases, which was thoroughly investigated, and carefully watched, is reported by dr. pététin, of lyon, in his famous "memoir on catalepsy and somnambulism." (lyon, .) his patient was a lady who had nursed her child with such utter disregard of her own health that her whole system was undermined. after an attack of most violent convulsions, accompanied with apparent madness, she suddenly began to laugh, to utter a number of clever and witty sayings, and finally broke out into beautiful songs; but a terrible cough with hemorrhages ended the crisis. similar attacks occurred with increasing frequency, during which she could read, with closed eyes, what was placed in her hand, state hour and minute on a watch by merely touching the crystal, and mention the contents of the pockets of bystanders. she stated that she saw these things with varied distinctness; some clearly, others as through a mist, and still others only by a great effort. the reporter expresses his belief that the stomach in this case performed all the functions of the senses, and that the epidermis, with its network of fine nerves, acted in place of the usual organs. pététin was also the first to enter into direct relations with his somnambulist; he could induce her at will to become clairvoyant, and make himself understood by her whenever he directed his voice toward the only sensitive part. gradually, however, it was discovered that the degree of close communication (_rapport_) between the two parties depended as largely on the correspondence of character between them as on the energy of will in the magnetizer and the power of imagination possessed by the patient. deleuse, one of the professors of the _jardin des plantes_, in paris, gave much attention to the subject, and in his numerous publications maintained the existence of a magnetic fluid by the side of the superior power with which some men are endowed, and that both were employed in influencing others. he was frequently, and violently, attacked on the score of his convictions, especially after several cases of cunning deception had become known. for very soon the innate desire for notoriety led many persons to pretend somnambulism, and skillfully to imitate the phenomena of clairvoyance, displaying, as is not unfrequently the case, in these efforts a skill and a perseverance which would have secured them great success in any legitimate enterprise. a number of volumes appeared, mostly in germany, professing to contain accounts of marvelous cures achieved by magnetism, which upon examination proved to be altogether fictitious. france, however, abounded more than any other country with impostors, and every kind of deception and cheating was carried on there, at the beginning of this century, under the cloak of mesmerism. young girls, stimulated by large rewards, and well trained by hospital surgeons, would submit to brutal treatment, and profess to reveal, during well-simulated trances, infallible remedies for grievous diseases. the followers of mesmer degraded his art by making it a merry pastime or a lucrative exhibition, without regard to truthfulness, and without reverence for science. even political intriguers, and financial speculators, availed themselves of the new discovery; precisely as in our day spirit-rapping and kindred tricks are used. in england, and in the union, mesmerism fared little better; especially with us, it soon fell into the hands of quacks and charlatans who made it a source of profit; at the same time it assumed various new names, as, electro-biology, hypnotism, and others. the idea that somnambulism was the effect of angelic or demoniac influences was once largely entertained, but has long since given way to more scientific views. but it cannot be said that the true nature of the active principle has yet been fully ascertained, and so far the results of mesmerism must be classed among magic phenomena. what is alone clearly established is the power which the strong will of the magnetizer evidently exercises over the patient, and the fact that this energy acts through the hands as its organs. the patient, on his side, undergoes by such an exercise of a foreign will a complete change of his individuality; the action of his brain is modified and he falls into magnetic sleep. many intelligent somnambulists have distinctly stated that they obey the will of their master and not his hands; that manipulation, in fact, merely serves to communicate this will to their inner sense. whether the connection which evidently exists between the two parties is established merely for moral agencies or by an infinitely subtle fluid, which may possibly be the od of baron reichenbach--this question remains as yet undecided. so much only is quite certain that neither the will alone suffices to produce the magic phenomena of magnetism, nor heat and electricity, as the physicist parrot maintained; as little can electro-magnetism, unaided, be the cause of such results, though the great robiano stoutly asserted its power; man is a dualism of spirit and body, and both must be influenced alike and together, in order to obtain perfect mastery. the most plausible explanation yet offered by men of science is, that by the will of the magnetizer his own nervous and mental system assumes a certain condition which changes that of the subject into one of opposite polarity, paralyzes some of his cerebral functions and causes him to fall into a state resembling sleep. the stronger and healthier man affects the nervous system of a feeble and less healthy man according to his own more or less strongly marked individuality, and the spiritual influence naturally develops itself in the same proportions as the material influence. hence the thoughts and feelings, the convictions and the faith of the magnetizer are reflected upon the mind of his subject. even mesmer himself had not yet reached this point; he was, up to his death, content to ascribe the power of the magnetizer to the waves of an universal fluid set in motion by the superior energy of specially endowed persons. according to his doctrine thoughts were conveyed by means of this mysterious fluid in precisely the same manner in which light and sound are borne onward on the waves of the air that surrounds us. they proceed from the brain and the nerves of one person and reach those of another person in this imperceptible manner; to dispatch them on their errand, volition is required; to receive them, willingness and a certain natural predisposition, since there are men incapable of being reached in this way, as there are others who are deprived of sight or hearing. as the conveying fluid is far more subtle than the thinnest air, permeates the whole universe and bears a close resemblance to the fluid which sets our nerves in motion, there is no other limit to the effects of volition on the part of the so-called magnetizer than the strength of his will. if he possesses this in a sufficiently high degree, he can affect those who are subject to his superiority even at the greatest distance. moreover, if his influence is sufficiently effective the somnambulist acquires new and heretofore unknown powers; he sees the interior of his own body, recognizes its defects and diseases, and by a newly-awakened instinct, perceives what is necessary to restore its perfect order. such were the views of mesmer. besides this theory a number of others have been published from time to time, by men of science of almost all countries--even modern philosophers, like the german schopenhauer, having entered the lists in defense of their favorite ideas. the most striking view published in recent times, is found in the works of count robiano, a learned abbé and a brilliantly successful magnetizer. he ascribes all the phenomena of somnambulism to the purely physical activity of the nerves, and proposes to call his new physical science neururgy. he identifies the nervous fluid with galvanism and voltaic electricity, and asserts that by a galvanic battery all the results can be obtained which mesmerism claims as its own. he also states that galvanic rings, bracelets, belts and necklaces cause immediately somnambulism in well-qualified persons, while carbon held before the nostrils of somnambulists in deep sleep, awakes them instantly, and at the same time releases limbs held in cataleptic rigidity. alabaster, soda, and wax have similar effects, but less promptly, and the wind from a pair of bellows has equal power. according to his theory, currents of what he calls the galvanic-neururgic fluid, are capable of producing all the well-known symptoms and phenomena of thought from idiocy to genius, and from unconscious sleep to the highest excitement; the process by which these results can be obtained is a suspension of the vital equilibrium by disease, intoxication, abstinence, long-continued fasting and prayer and the like. if the marvelous fluid is unequally distributed through the system, catalepsy ensues. the novelty and force of robiano's doctrines attracted much attention, but a series of experiments conducted by eminent men soon proved that galvanism alone produced in no instance somnambulism, but invariably required the aid of volition, which the learned italian in his modesty had probably underrated, if not altogether overlooked. it is a matter more of curiosity than of real interest that the chinese have--now for nearly eleven hundred years--believed in an inherent power possessed by every human being, called yu-yang, which is identical with an universal yu-yang. according to this view, every person endowed with the proper ability can dispose of his own yu-yang and diffuse a portion of it over others, so as to cure their infirmities. the french missionary amyot communicated this to puységur (_du magnétisme animal_, paris, , p. ), and looked upon the yu-yang as the universal vital power which produces everything. before we dismiss any such theory--in china or nearer home--with a supercilious smile, it is well to recall the reception which the first revelation of electricity in the human body met among our savants. the doctrine had to pass through the usual three stages of contempt, controversy and final adoption. john wesley, more than a hundred years ago, said of it: "with what vehemence has it been opposed! sometimes, by treating it with contempt, as if it were of little or no use; sometimes by arguments such as they were, and sometimes by such cautions against its ill effects, as made thousands afraid to meddle with it." now, every elementary text-book teaches that all created living bodies are electric, and that some persons, animals, and plants are so in a very high degree. to establish this truth poor puss has had to suffer much in order to give out electric sparks, and the sensitive plant has had to show how its leaves "with quick horror fly the neighboring hand," which draws from them the electricity of which it contains more than other plants. physicians have learnt that a person who has the small-pox cannot be electrified, the body being fully charged and refusing to receive more electricity, while sparks may be drawn from the body of a patient dying with cholera. now this once despised power, in the shape of voltaic electricity, adorns our tables with electro-plate works of art, carries our thoughts around the globe, blasts rocks, fires cannons and torpedoes, and even rings the bells of our houses. now little chain batteries, that can be carried in the waistcoat pockets, produce powerful shocks and cure grievous diseases, while tiny bands, which yet can decompose water in a test-tube, are worn by thousands as a protection against intense suffering and utter prostration. what in this case happened to electricity may very well be the fate of the new power also, which is the true agent in all that we carelessly call magnetism. somnambulism and clairvoyance, by whatever means they may have been caused, differ in this from dreams and feverish fancies, that the outer senses are rendered inactive and in their place peculiar inner life begins to act, while the subject is perfectly conscious. the magic phenomena differ naturally infinitely according to the varying natures of the patients. in the majority of cases sleep is the only result of magnetizing; a few persons become genuine somnambulists and begin to speak, first very indistinctly, because the organs of speech are partially locked and the consciousness is not fully aroused. as the spasms cease, speech becomes freer, and as the mind clears up, the thoughts also reveal themselves more distinctly. these symptoms are ordinarily accompanied by others of varying character, from simple heat in the extremities and painful sobbing to actual syncope. in almost all such cases, however, the nervous system is suffering from a violent shock, and this produces spasms of more or less appalling violence. the temper of the sufferers--for such they are all to some degree--varies from deep despondency to exulting blissfulness, but is as changeable as that of children, and resembles but too frequently the capricious and unintelligible mental condition of insane persons. those who are for the first time thrown into magnetic sleep generally feel after awaking as if a great change had taken place in them; they are apt to remain serious, and apparently plunged in deep thought for several days. if their case is in unskillful hands, nervous disorders are rarely avoided; phantastic visions may be seen, and convulsions and more threatening symptoms even may occur. youth is naturally more susceptible to the influence of magnetism than riper years; really old persons have never yet been put to sleep. in like manner women are more easily controlled than men, and hence more capable of being magnetized than of magnetizing others. if men appear more frequently in the annals of this new branch of magic than women, this is due merely to the fact that men appear naturally, and so far at least voluntarily more frequently in public statements than women. the latter, moreover, are very rarely found able to magnetize men, simply because they are less in the habit of exerting their will for the purpose of influencing others; the exceptions were mostly so-called masculine women. over their own sex, however, they are easily able to obtain full control. among the curious symptoms accompanying the magic phenomena of this class, the following deserve being mentioned. a distinguished physician, dr. heller, examined the blood corpuscules of a person in magnetic sleep and found that their shape was essentially modified; they were raised and pointed so as to bear some resemblance to mulberries; at the same time they exhibited a vibrating motion. another symptom frequently observed in mesmerism are electric shocks, which produce sometimes a violent trembling in the whole person before the beginning of magnetic sleep and after it has ceased. as many as four thousand such shocks have been counted in an hour; they are especially frequent in hysterical women and then accompanied by severe pain, in men they are of rarer occurrence. finally, it appears from a number of well-authenticated cases that magnetic convulsions are contagious, extending even to animals. persons suffering with catalepsy have more than once been compelled to kill pet cats because the latter suffered in a similar manner whenever the attacks came, and the same has been noticed in favorite dogs which were left in the room while magnetic cures were performed. this is all the more frequently noticed as many magnetizers look upon convulsions as efforts made by nature to restore the system to a healthy condition, and hence excite in their patients convulsions without magnetizing them fully. a new doctrine concerning the magic phenomena of magnetism establishes a special force inherent in all inorganic substances, and calls it siderian. this theory is the result of the observation that certain substances, like water and metal, possess a special power of producing somnambulism, and at one time a peculiar apparatus, called _baquet_, was much in use, by means of which several persons, connected with each other and with a vessel filled with water and pieces of metal, were rendered clairvoyant. the whole subject has not yet been fully investigated, and hence the conclusions drawn from isolated cases must be looked upon as premature. it has, however, been established beyond doubt that metals have a peculiar power over sensitive persons, in their natural sleep as well as in the magnetic sleep. many somnambulists are painfully affected by gold, others by iron; a very sensitive patient could, after an instant's touch, distinguish even rare metals like bismuth and cobalt by the sensations which they produced when laid upon her heart. dr. brunner, when professor of physics in peru, had a patient who could not touch iron without falling into convulsions, and was made clairvoyant by simply taking her physician's pocket-knife in her hand. this siderian or astral force, so called from a presumed influence exercised by the heavenly bodies, as well as by all inorganic substances, admits of no isolation, although it is possessed in varying degrees by certain metals and minerals. it has no effect even upon the electrometer or the magnetic needle; its force is radiating, quite independent of light, but considerably increased by heat. persons magnetized by the mysterious force of the _baquet_ have, however, an astonishing power over the magnetic needle and can make it deflect by motion, fixed glance, or even mere volition. in _galignani's messenger_ ( th of october, ) the case of prudence bernard in paris is mentioned, who forced the needle to follow the motions of her head. whatever we may think of the value of this theory, it cannot be denied that the effect which certain physical processes going on in the atmosphere have on our body and mind alike is very striking and yet almost entirely unknown. science is leisurely gathering up facts which will no doubt in the end furnish us a clue to many phenomena which we now call magic, or even supernatural. thus almost every hour of the day has its peculiarity in connection with nature: at one hour the barometer, at another the thermometer reaches its maximum; at other periods magnetism is at its highest or the air fullest of vapor, and to these various influences the diseases of men stand in close relation. when auroras are seen frequently the atmosphere is found to be surcharged with electricity; they are intimately connected with gastric fevers, and according to some physicians, even with typhus and cholera. it has also been ascertained that the progress of the cholera and the plague--perhaps also of common influenza--coincides accurately with the isogonic line; these diseases disappear as soon as the eastward declination of the magnetic needle ceases. in recent times a correspondence of the spots in the sun with earth-magnetism has also been observed. in like manner it has been established that continued positive electricity of the air, producing ozone in abundance, is apt to cause catarrhs, inflammations, and rheumatism, while negative electricity causes nervous fevers and cholera. even the moon has recovered some of its former importance in its relations to the human body, and although the superstitions of past ages with their absurd exaggerations have long since been abandoned, certain facts remain as evidences of a connection between the moon and some diseases. thus the paroxysms of lunatics, epileptics, and somnambulists are undoubtedly in correspondence with the phases of the moon; madmen rave most furiously when the latter is full, and its phases determine with astonishing regularity the peculiar affections of women, as was triumphantly proven by the journal kept with admirable fidelity during the long life of dr. constantine hering of philadelphia. another name given to these phenomena is the hypnotism of the english. (braid, "neurohypnology," london, .) this theory is based upon the fact that sensitive persons can be rendered clairvoyant by looking fixedly at some small but bright object held close to their face, and by continuing for some time to fix the mind upon the same object after the eyelids have closed from sheer weariness. the method of producing this magnetic sleep, and some of the symptoms peculiar to mesmerized persons, has since been frequently varied. dodds makes the patient take a disk of zinc, upon which a small disk of copper is laid, into his hand, and regard them fixedly; thus he produces what he calls electro-biology. catton, in manchester, england, prefers a gentle brushing of the forehead, and by this simple means causes magnetic sleep. braid's experiments, in which invariably over-excitement of nerves was followed by torpor, rigidity, and insensibility, have since been repeated by eminent physicians with a view to produce anæsthesis during painful operations. they have met with perfect success; and the removal of the shining object, fresh air, and slight frictions, sufficed to restore consciousness. the same results have been obtained in france, where, according to a report made to the french academy, in , by the renowned dr. velpeau, persons induced to look at a shining object, held close between their eyes, began to squint violently, and in a few moments to fall, utterly unconscious and insensible, into magnetic sleep. maury explains the process as one of vertigo, which itself again is caused by the pressure of blood upon the brain, and adds, that any powerful impression produced upon the retina may have the same effect. hence, no doubt, the _mal occhio_ of the italians, inherited from the evil eye of the ancients; hence the often almost marvelous power which some men have exercised by the mere glance of the eye. the fixed look of the magnetizer, which attracts the eye of the patient, and holds it, as it were, spell-bound, has very much the same effect, and when this look is carefully cultivated it may put others beside themselves--as was the case with urbain graudier, who could, at any time, cause his arms to fall into a trance by merely fixing his eyes upon them for a few minutes. from all these experiments we gather, once more, that men can, by a variety of means, which are called magnetism or mesmerism, influence others who are susceptible, till the latter fall into magnetic sleep, have cataleptic attacks, or become clairvoyant. it is less certain that, as many assert, these results are obtained by means of a most subtle, as yet unknown, fluid, which the magnetizer causes to vibrate in his own mind, and which passes from him, by means of his hands, into the patient, where it produces effects corresponding to those felt by the principal. to accomplish even this, it is absolutely necessary that the magnetizer should not only possess a higher energy than his patient, but also stand to him in the relation of the positive pole to the negative. the extent of success is measurable by the strength of will on one hand, and the degree of susceptibility on the other; both may be infinitely varied, from total absence to an overwhelming abundance. practice, at least, however, aids the magnetizer effectually, and certain french and italian masters have obtained surprising results. the most striking of these is still the cataleptic state, which they cause at will. breathing, pulsation, and digestion continue uninterrupted, but the muscles are no longer subject to our will; they cease to be active, and hence the patient remains immovable in any position he may be forced to assume. the general symptoms produced by magnetizing are uniformly the same: as soon as a sufficient number of passes have been made from the head downward the patient draws a few deep inhalations, and then follow increased animal heat and perspiration, the effect of greater activity of the nerves, while pain ceases and cheerfulness succeeds despondency. if the passes are continued, these symptoms increase in force, produce their natural consequences, and, the functions becoming normal, recovery takes place. magnetic sleep is frequently preceded by slight feverishness, convulsive trembling and fainting. the eyelids, half or entirely closed, begin to tremble, the eyeballs turn upward and inward, and the pupils become enlarged and insensible to light. the features change in a striking manner, peculiar to this kind of sleep, and easily recognized. after several experiments of this kind have been made upon susceptible persons, the outward sleep begins to be accompanied by an inner awakening, at first in a half-dreamy state and gradually more fully, till conversation can be attempted. contrary to the general impression, faith does not seem to be an essential element of success, at least on the part of the patient, for infants and very young children have been rendered clairvoyant as well as grown persons. on the other hand, natural susceptibility is indispensable, for deleuse (_déf. du magnétisme_, p. ) states that in his extended practice he found only one out of twenty persons fit to be magnetized. of those whom he could influence, only one in twenty could converse in his sleep, and of five of this class not more than one became fully clairvoyant. certain persons, though well endowed, impress their patients unfavorably, cause a sensation of cold instead of heat in their system, and produce a feeling of strong aversion. the most remarkable feature in all these relations, however, is the fact that the patient not unfrequently affects the magnetizer, and this in the most extraordinary manner. one physician took into the hand with which he had touched a dying person, two finches; they immediately sickened and died a few days later. another, a physically powerful and perfectly healthy man, who was treating a patient suffering of _tic douloureux_ by means of magnetism, became unwell after a few days, and on the seventh day fell himself a victim to that painful disease, till he had to give up the treatment. he handed his patient over to a brother physician, who suffered in the same manner, and actually died in a short time. after continued practice has strengthened the magnetizer, his "passes" often become unnecessary, and he can at last, under favorable circumstances, produce magnetic sleep by a simple glance or even the mere unuttered volition. some physicians had only to say sleep! and their patient fell asleep; others were able to move the sleepers from their beds by a slight touch with the tip of the thumb. one of this class, after curing a poor boy of catalepsy, retained such perfect control over him that he only needed to point at him with his finger, or to let him touch some metal which he had magnetized, in order to make him fall down as if thunderstruck. the great german writer, known as jean paul, relates of himself that he, "in a large company and by merely looking at her fixedly, caused a mrs. k. twice to fall almost asleep and to make her heart beat and her color go, till s. had to help her." the abbé faria, who seems to have been specially endowed with such power, would magnetize perfect strangers by suddenly stretching out his hands and saying in an authoritative tone: sleep, i will it! he had a formidable competitor afterwards in hébert, who played almost at will with a large number of spectators in his crowded hall, making them follow him wherever he led, or causing them to fall asleep by simply making passes over the inside of their hats. in the case of young girls he produced rigidity of members with great facility, and then caused them to assume any position he chose; his patients were utterly helpless and powerless. dupotet, already mentioned, possessed similar influence over others; he once magnetized an athletic man of ripe years, by merely walking around the chair on which he was seated, and forced him to turn with him by jerks. on another occasion he made a white chalk-mark on the floor, and then requested a gentleman to put both his feet upon the spot; while he remained quietly standing by the side of his friends. after a few minutes the stranger began to shut his eyes, and his body trembled and swayed to and fro, till it sank so low that the head hung down to the hips--at last dupotet loosened the spell by upward passes. an italian, ragazzoni, excited in , no small sensation by his remarkable success as a magnetizer. unlike other physicians, he used an abundance of gestures to accompany the active play of his expressive features, and yet by merely breathing upon persons he could check their respiration and the circulation of their blood; in like manner he caused the chest to swell and paralyzed single limbs or the whole body. he pushed needles through the hand or the skin of the forehead without causing a sign of pain; he enabled his patients to guess his thoughts, and set them walking, running or dancing, although they were in one room and he in another. when he had paralyzed their senses, burning sulphur did not affect their smell, nor brilliant light the open pupil; the ringing of a large bell close to the ear and the firing of a pistol remained unheard. in fine, he repeated all the experiments already made by puységur with his patient, victor, but generally without the use of passes. (schopenhauer, _ueber d. willen in d. natur._ , p. .) maury, who has given a most interesting and trustworthy account of similar cases (_revue des deux mondes_, , t. ), states in speaking of general noizet, that the latter caused him to fall asleep by saying: "_dormes!_" immediately a thick veil fell upon his eyes, he felt weak, began to perspire, and felt a strong pressure upon the abdomen. a second experiment, however, was less successful. besides passes, a variety of other means have been employed to produce magnetic sleep and kindred phenomena. dr. bendsea, one of the earlier practitioners, frequently used metal mirrors or even ordinary looking-glasses; another dr. barth, maintained that by touching or irritating any part of the outer skull, the underlying portions of the brains could be excited. by thus pressing upon the organ of love of children, his patients would at once begin to think of children, and often caress a cushion. in this theory he is supported by haddock, who first discovered that the magnetizer's will could force his patient to substitute his fancies for the reality, and, for instance, to believe a handkerchief to be a pet dog or an infant, and an empty glass to be filled with such liquids as he suggested. the influence in such cases must, however, be rather ascribed to the fact that the magnetizers were also phrenologists, than to the presumed organs themselves. it must lastly be mentioned that some persons claim to possess the power to magnetize themselves, and dupotet, a trustworthy authority in such matters, supports the assertion. a case is mentioned in the _journal de l'âme_ (iv. p. ), of a man who could hypnotize himself from childhood up, by merely fixing his eye for some time upon a certain point; in later years, probably by too frequent excitement of this kind, he was apt to fall into trances and to see visions. the sympathetic relations which by magnetism are established between two or more persons who are in a state of somnambulism or clairvoyance, is commonly called _rapport_, although there is no apparent necessity for preferring a french word. the closest relations exist naturally between the magnetizer and his subject, and the intensity of the rapport varies, of course, with the energy of will of the one, and the susceptibility of the patient of the other. the same rapport exists, however, often between the patients of the same magnetizer, and may be increased by merely joining hands, or a strong effort of will on the part of the physician. it has often been claimed that mesmerism produces exceptionally by _rapport_ what in twins is the effect of a close natural resemblance and contemporaneousness of organization. clairvoyants endowed with the highest powers which have yet been observed, thus see not only their own body as if it were transparent, but can in like manner watch what is going on within the bodies of others, provided they are brought into _rapport_ with them, and hence their ability to prescribe for their ailments. puységur was probably the first to discover this peculiarity: he was humming to himself a favorite air while magnetizing a peasant boy, and suddenly the latter began to sing the same air with a loud voice. haddock's patients gave all the natural signs of pain in different parts of the body, when he was struck or pinched, while at the very time they were themselves insensible to pain. dr. emelin found that when he held his watch to his right ear, a female patient of his heard the ticking in her left ear; if he held it to her own ear she heard nothing. he was, also, not a little astonished when another patient, in a distant town to which he traveled, revealed to him a whole series of professional meditations in which he had been plunged during his journey. and yet such a knowledge of the magnetizer's thoughts is nothing uncommon in well-qualified subjects who have been repeatedly magnetized. mrs. crowe mentions the case of a gentleman who was thus treated while he was at malvern and his physician at cheltenham. he was lying in magnetic sleep, when he suddenly sprang up, clapped his hands together, and broke out into loud laughter. his physician was written to and replied that on the same day he had been busy thinking of his patient, when a sudden knock at the door startled him and made him jump and clap his hands together. he then laughed heartily at his folly! (i. p. .) dupotet once saw a striking illustration of the _rapport_ which may exist between two patients of the same magnetizer, even where the two are unknown to each other. he was treating some of his patients in a hospital in st. petersburg, by means of magnetism, and found, to his surprise, that whenever he put one of them to sleep in the upper story, the other in the lower story would also instantly drop asleep, although she could not possibly be aware of what was going on upstairs. this happened, moreover, not once, but repeatedly, and for weeks in succession. if both were asleep when he came on his daily round, he needed only arouse one to hear the other awake with a start and utter loud cries. magnetic sleep generally does not begin immediately, but after some intermediate danger; most frequently ordinary sleep serves as a bridge leading to magnetic sleep, and yet the two are entirely different conditions. when at last sleep is induced, various degrees of exceptional powers are exhibited, which are evidences of an inner sense that has been awakened, while the outer senses have become inactive. the patient is, however, utterly unconscious of the fact that his eyes are closed, and believes he sees through them as when he is awake. when somnambulists are asked why they keep their eyes shut, they answer: "i do not know what you mean; i see you perfectly well." the highest degree, but rarely developed in specially favored persons, consists of perfect clairvoyance accompanied by a sense of indescribable bliss; in this state the spiritual and moral features of the patient assume a form of highest development, visions are beheld, remote and future things are discerned, and other persons may be influenced, even if they are at a considerable distance. it is in this condition that persons in magnetic sleep exhibit in the highest degree the magic phenomena of magnetism. the latter are generally accompanied by a sensation of intense light, which at times becomes almost painful, and has to be allayed by the physician, especially when it threatens to interfere with the unconscious conversations of the patient. this enjoyment has, however, to be paid for dearly, for it exhausts the sleeper, and in many instances it so closely resembles the struggle of the soul when parting from the body in death, that dissolution seems to be impending. somnambulists themselves maintain that such magnetic sleep shortens their lives by several years, and has to be interrupted in time to prevent it from becoming fatal. recollection rarely survives magnetic sleep, but after awaking, vague and indistinct impulses continue, which stand in some connection with the incidents of such sleep. a well known magnetizer, mouillesaux, once ordered a patient, while sunk in magnetic sleep, to go on the following day and call on a person whom she did not like. the promise was given reluctantly, but not mentioned again after she awoke. to test the matter, the physician went, accompanied by a few friends, on the next day, to that person's house, and, to their great surprise, the patient was seen to walk up and down anxiously before the door, and at last to enter, visibly embarrassed. mouillesaux at once followed her and explained the matter; she told him that from the moment of her rising in the morning she had been haunted by the idea that she ought to go to this house, till her nervousness had become so painful as to force her to go on her unwelcome errand. (_exposé des cures, etc._, iii. p. .) the power to perceive things present without the use of the ordinary organs, and to become aware of events happening at a distance, has been frequently ascribed to an additional sense, possibly the common sense of aristotle. its fainter operations are seen in the almost marvelous power possessed by bats to fly through minute meshes of silk nets, stretched out for the purpose, even when deprived of sight, and to find their way to their nests without a moment's hesitation. cuvier ascribed this remarkable power to their exquisitely developed sense of touch, which would make them aware of an almost imperceptible pressure of the air; but while this might explain their avoiding walls and trees, it could not well apply to slender silk threads. another familiar illustration is found in the perfectly amazing ability often possessed by blind, or blind and deaf persons, who distinguish visitors by means neither granted nor known to their more fortunate brethren. it is generally believed that in such cases the missing senses are supplied by a superior development of the remaining senses, but even this assertion has never yet been fully proved, nor if proved, would it supply a key to some of the almost marvelous achievements of blind people. this new or general sense seems only to awaken in exceptional cases and under peculiar circumstances. that it never shows itself in healthy life is due to the simple fact that its power is then obscured by the unceasing activity of the ordinary senses. a peculiar, and as yet unexplained feature of this power is the tendency to ascribe its results, not to the ordinary organs, but by a curious transposition to some other part of the body, so that persons in magnetic sleep believe, as the magnetizer may choose, that they see, or smell, or hear by means of the finger-tips, the pit of the stomach, the forehead, or even the back of the head. it is true that savants like alfred maury (_revue des deux mondes_, , t. ) and dr. michéa ascribe these new powers only to an increased activity of the senses; but nothing is gained by this reasoning, as such an astounding increase of the irritability of the retina or the tympanum is as much of a magic phenomenon as the presumed new sense. the simple explanation is that it is not the eye which sees nor the ear which hears, but that images and sound-waves are carried by these organs to the great nervous centre, where we must look for the true source of all our perceptions. if in magnetic sleep the same images and waves can be conveyed by other means, the result will be precisely the same as if the patient was observing with open eyes and ears. a lady treated by despine thus heard with the palm of her hand and read by means of the finger-tips, which she passed rapidly over the letters presented to her in her sleep. at the same time she invariably ascribed the sensations she experienced to the natural senses; flowers, for instance, laid down unseen by her, so as barely to touch her fingers, caused her to draw in air through the nostrils and to exclaim: ah, how sweet that is! and if objects were placed against the sole of her foot, she would often exclaim: "what is that? i cannot see it distinctly." somnambulists can, hence, carry on domestic work in the dark with the same success as in broad daylight, and a patient whose case has been most carefully investigated, could hem the finest linen handkerchiefs by holding the needle to her brow, high above her eyes. thus persons have seen by means of almost every part of the body, a fact which has led more than one distinguished physiologist to assume that, under special circumstances, all the papillæ of nerves in the epidermis may become capable of conveying the sensual perceptions ordinarily assigned only to certain organs, as the eye or the ear. even this supposition, however, would not suffice to explain the ability possessed by some magnetized persons to see and hear by means of their fingers, even without touching the objects or when separated from the latter by an intervening wall. the highest magic phenomena connected with magnetic sleep consist in the perception of hidden things and in the influence exercised over persons at a distance. only a few of these can be explained by natural laws and by the increased power of the senses frequently granted to peculiarly constituted or diseased persons. the senses, on the contrary, cease to operate, and man, for a time, becomes endowed with a higher power, which is probably part and portion of his spiritual being, as made after the image of the most high, but obscured and rendered inoperative by the subjection of the soul to the earthborn body. nor is this power always under his control; as if to mark its supernatural character, the patient very often perceives what is perfectly indifferent to himself, and is forced, almost against his own will, to witness or foresee events, the bearing of which he cannot discern. generally, therefore, the importance of these revelations is of less interest than the manner in which they are made, which is invariably of the kind we call magic. this is still further attested by the difficulty, which is almost always felt, of translating them, as it were, into ordinary language, and hence the many allegoric and symbolic forms under which they are made known. future events are often not seen, but read in a newspaper or heard as recited by strangers; in other cases they are apparently imparted by the spirits of deceased persons. a very frequent form is the impression that the soul leaves the body and, pursuing the track of a person to whom the magnetizer points, with all the fidelity and marvelous accuracy of a well-trained dog, finally reaches him and sees him and his surroundings. nor is the distance a matter of indifference; like the ordinary senses, this new sense also seems to have its laws and its limits, and if the task is too heavy and the distance too great, the perception remains vague and indefinite. most important of all is the fact that, unlike spiritual visions, magnetism never enables the sleeper to go beyond the limits of our earthly home. on the other hand, time is no more an obstacle than space, and genuine somnambulists have seen past and future events as well as distant scenes. mistakes, however, occur here as with all our other senses; as healthy persons see amiss or hear amiss, so magnetic sleepers also are not unfrequently mistaken--errors to which they are all the more liable as the impressions received by magic powers have to be translated into the language adapted to ordinary senses. among somnambulists of this class alexis is one of the best known, and has left us an account of many experiments in his _explication du sommeil magnétique_. alexis was once put into magnetic sleep by a friend of dr. mayo, and then ordered to go to boppard, on the rhine, and look for him; alexis, after some hesitation, stated that he had found him, and described--although he had never seen him before--his appearance and dress, not only, but also the state of mind in which he was at that moment, all of which proved afterward to be perfectly correct. alexis declared that his perceptions varied very much in clearness, and that his power to see friends at a distance depended largely on the affection he felt for them. in all instances his magic powers were far inferior to those of his natural senses, although they never misled him, as the latter had done occasionally. in the _bibliothèque du magnétisme animal_ (vii. p. ), a remarkable case is reported as attested by undoubted authority. the english consul, baldwin, was, in , visited by an italian improvisatore, who happened to have a small medicine-chest with him. in the consul's kitchen was a little arab, a scullion, who suffered of a harassing cough, and whom his master magnetized in order to cure him. while in his sleep the boy saw the medicine-chest, of which he had known nothing before, and selected among the phials one with sugar of agrimonium, which relieved him of his troubles. the italian, thereupon, asked also to be magnetized; fell promptly asleep, and wrote in this condition, with closed eyes, a poem praising the art of magnetism. haddock's famous subject, emma, actually accomplished once the crucial test of all magic phenomena--she proved the value of magnetism in a question of money. in the year three notes, amounting to £ , had been deposited in a bank, and disappeared in the most unaccountable manner. one of the clerks confessed, that although he had received them, wrapped them up in paper, and placed them with a parcel of other notes, he had forgotten to enter them regularly in the books. no trace could be discovered; at last the magnetized subject was consulted, and after some little time declared that the notes were lying in a certain room, inserted in a certain panel, which she described so accurately that upon search being instituted the missing notes were found, and the clerk's character was cleared. dr. barth magnetized, in , a lady who was filled with anxiety about her husband in america, from whom she had not heard for a long time. after having been put into magnetic sleep several times, she once exclaimed: "god be thanked, my poor husband is better. i am looking over his shoulder and see him write a letter addressed to me, which will be here in six or seven weeks. he tells me that he has been ill for three months." two months afterwards she actually received such a letter, in which her husband informed her of his three months' illness, and regretted the pain he had probably caused her by his protracted silence. a young lady, magnetized by robert napier in his house in edinburgh, not only described her parents' house as it appeared at the moment, but also the home of a miss b., in new south wales, where she had never been. in the garden of the house she saw a gentleman accompanied by a lady in black, and a dog of light color with dark spots; upon inquiry it appeared that colonel b., the father of the young lady, had at that time actually been in the garden with his wife and his dog, although some of the minor details proved to have been incorrect. she also gave a minute and accurate account of the upper stories of napier's house, where she had never been; but recognizing everything only gradually, and correcting the mistakes which she had at first committed. thus she spoke of napier's old aunt as dressed in dark colors; after a while she exclaimed: "oh, now i see she is dressed in white!" it appeared afterward that the old lady had been sitting in a deep arm-chair, overshadowed by the back of the chair, the gas-light being behind her; just at that moment, however, napier's wife had come up, the aunt had leaned forward to speak to her, and thus being brought into the light, had revealed her white night-dress. this case is peculiarly interesting as proving that the perceptions of somnambulists are dependent upon conditions similar to those which govern the ordinary senses. (colquhoun, p. .) according to such high authorities as hufeland and others, magnetic sleep enables persons to see the interior of the bodies of others. he himself heard one of his female patients, a woman without any knowledge of anatomy, describe quite accurately the inner structure of the ear, and of certain other parts of the body. (_ueber sympathie_, p. .) it seems to have been well ascertained that she had never had an opportunity of reading such a description, even if her memory had been retentive enough to enable her to recall and recite what she had thus chanced to read. the clairvoyant alexis once saw through the clothing of a visitor a scar, and after gazing at it--in his sleep--for a long time, he came to the conclusion that it was the effect of a dog's bite, and finally stated all the facts attending the accident of which the scar was the sole remaining evidence. even historical predictions made in magnetic sleep are not wanting. the death of a king of würtemberg was thus foretold by two somnambulists, who were under medical treatment, and who warned their physicians, well-known and trustworthy practitioners of good standing, of the approaching event. the king's death took place without being preceded by any serious illness, and in the manner minutely predicted by one of the patients; a confirmation which was all the more striking, as the prediction had been made in the presence of a number of distinguished men, among whom were a minister of the kingdom and several divines. another case is that of the swedish king, gustavus vasa, who was assassinated in , by ankarström. accompanied by his physician, he once called, as count haga, upon a patient treated by aubry, a pupil of mesmer. she recognized him immediately, although plunged in magnetic sleep, told him that he suffered of oppressions of the chest, the effect of a broken arm, and foretold him that his life was in danger and that he would be murdered. the king was deeply impressed, and as his physician expressed doubt and contempt in his face, he desired that the latter should be put _en rapport_ with the patient. no sooner was this done than the physician's eyes fell, he sank into magnetic sleep, and when, after some time, he was aroused he left the room in great agitation. (a. gauthier. _hist. du somnamb._, ii. p. .) an occasional phenomenon of magnetic sleep is the improvement of the language of patients; this appears not only in the case of well-educated persons, whose diction assumes often a high poetical form, but far more strikingly in unlettered and ignorant patients, who suddenly manifest an unexpected familiarity with the more refined form of their native tongue, and not unfrequently even with idioms of which they have previously had no knowledge whatever. all these different symptoms have been authenticated by numerous and trustworthy witnesses. humble peasant-women have used the most elegant forms of their native language; travelers have unexpectedly recovered the use of idioms once known to them, but long since forgotten; and, finally, a real gift of languages has unmistakably enabled patients to use idioms with which they had previously never come in contact. this phenomenon develops itself occasionally into poetical improvisations of considerable merit, and the beautiful music which many hear in magnetic sleep, or just before dying, as if coming from another world, is, in like manner, nothing but a product of their own mental exaltation. thus persons who spoke merely a local dialect, and were acquainted with no other form of their mother-tongue, when placed in magnetic sleep would speak the best english or german, as if their mind, freed from all fetters, resumed once more the original task of forming the language in accordance with their heightened capacities. little children, whose education had scarcely begun, have been known to recite verses or to compose speeches, of which they would have been utterly incapable in a healthy state, and of which they had afterwards no recollection. macnish mentions a young girl who, when magnetized, always fell back into welsh, which she had spoken as a child, but long since forgotten, and lausanne mentions one of his patients, a creole, who came at the age of five to france, and late in life, when magnetized, spoke no longer french but the miserable patois of her early years. a young tanner in england, also, though utterly uneducated, like the peasant-boy of puységur, was able in magnetic sleep to speak german. whenever another person, at such a time, spoke to him in english, his lips began at once to move, and he translated what he heard into fair german verses. (morin, _journ. du magn._ , no. .) it must not be overlooked that the gift of singing and of using poetical language, often of great beauty, is not unfrequently developed in fever-patients also, and in insane persons. insensibility to impressions from without is another phenomenon which magnetic sleep has in common with many other conditions. it is produced by anæsthetics like chloroform and ether, by utter exhaustion in consequence of long suffering, as was the case with martyrs and prisoners subjected to torture, and by excessive loss of blood. but in magnetic sleep it reaches a higher degree than under other circumstances; cataleptic patients, and even clairvoyants in moments of greatest excitement, seem to be in a state in which the nerves cease to act as conveyers of impressions to the brain. this has often led to unwarrantable abuse; physicians, under the pretext of scientific investigation, inflicting severe injuries upon their patients, utterly unmindful of the fact that, however great the momentary insensibility may be, the sense of pain returns at the instant of re-awaking. on the other hand, physicians have taken advantage of this state of unconsciousness of pain, in order to perform serious operations. the first instance of a surgical operation being attempted while the patient was in mesmeric sleep, was that of madame plantin, a lady of sixty-four years, who suffered of cancer in the breast. a mr. chapelain prepared her by throwing her for several days into a trance by means of the usual mesmeric passes. she then manifested the ordinary symptoms of somnambulism, and conversed about the impending danger with perfect calmness, while she contemplated it, when conscious, with the utmost horror and apprehension. on the th of april, , she was again thrown into a trance, and the painful and dangerous operation accomplished in less than a quarter of an hour, while she conversed with the surgeon, the famous dr. ploquet, and showed in her voice, her breathing, and her pulse not the slightest sign of excitement or pain. when the wound was bound up, she awoke, but upon hearing what had taken place, she became so violently excited that the magnetizer had to cause her once more to fall asleep under his passes. and yet, in spite of this brilliant success, when dr. warren of boston asked the great surgeon why he had never repeated the experiment, the latter was forced to acknowledge that he had not dared do it, "because the prejudice against mesmerism was so strong in paris that a repetition would have imperiled his position and his reputation!" since that time mesmerism has been repeatedly, and almost always successfully employed as an anæsthetic; dr. james esdall, chief surgeon of the presidency of calcutta, having reduced the application to a regular method. dr. forbes reports two cases of amputation of the thigh in magnetic sleep, which were successful, and similar experiments have been made in england, and in india, with the same happy result. it is probably a feature connected with this insensibility that persons in magnetic sleep can with impunity take unusually large doses of medicine, which they prescribe for themselves. for magnetic sleep seems to develop, as we have stated, among other magic phenomena, a peculiar insight also, into diseases and their remedies. although diseases may assume a variety of deceptive forms, the predictions made by magnetic patients, many months in advance, seldom fail to be verified. this is a mere matter of instinct, for ignorant persons and young children possess the gift in equal degree with the best-informed and most experienced patients. the remedies are almost exclusively so-called simples--a hint of some value to physicians--but always prescribed with much judgment, and in a manner evincing rare medical tact. the dose, however, is generally twice or three times as much as is ordinarily given. magnetic patients prescribe as successfully for others, with whom they are placed _en rapport_, as for themselves, since a state of perfect clairvoyance enables them to judge of other persons also with perfect accuracy. one of the most remarkable cases is mentioned by schopenhauer. ("parerga," etc., i. p. .) a consumptive patient in russia directed, in her magnetic sleep, the attending physician to put her for nine days into a state of syncope. he did so reluctantly, but during this time her system seemed to enjoy perfect rest, and by this means she recovered. haddock, also, cured several persons at a distance, by following the directions given to him by a patient of his in her magnetic sleep; he handed her a lock of hair, or a few written lines, which sufficed to put her _en rapport_ with the absent sufferers. among the magic phenomena observed in magnetic sleep we must lastly mention ecstatic elevation in the air, the giving out of peculiar sounds, and the power to produce extraordinary effects at a distance. even common somnambulists, it is well known, seem not to be in the same degree subject to the laws of gravity as persons in a state of wakefulness: hence their amazing exploits in walking on roofs, gliding along narrow cornices, or even running up perpendicular walls. persons in magnetic sleep have been known to float on fresh water as well as in the sea, although they were unable to swim, and sank, if they went into the water when awake. dupotel saw one of his patients running along the side of his room on a small strip of wood which was merely tacked on to the wall, and could not have supported a small weight. this peculiar power is all the more fully authenticated as persons have fallen from great heights, while in magnetic sleep, without suffering any injury; but if they are aroused, and then fall, they invariably become subject again to the natural laws, and are often killed. this temporary suspension of the law of gravity has been compared with similar phenomena in science. thus it is well known that a galvanic stream passing through coils of copper wire will hold an iron needle suspended within the coils; and an iron ball dropped into a glass tube between two powerful magnets will in the same manner remain hanging free in the air. the advocates of this theory reason that if magnetism can suspend the law of gravity in metals, it is at least possible that it may have a similar power in the human body. it has, besides, been observed that certain affections, such as violent nervous fevers, increase the weight of sufferers considerably, while a state of trance diminishes it even more strikingly. with regard to the magic phenomena of increased intelligence, abercrombie mentions the case of a girl who as a child had heard a relative play the violin with a certain degree of mastery. later in life she became his patient, and in her magnetic sleep repeated unconsciously some of the pieces in tones very pleasing and closely resembling the notes of a violin. each paroxysm, however, was succeeded by certain symptoms of her disease. some years afterwards she imitated in like manner the sounds of a piano and the tones of several members of the family who were fond of singing, in such a manner that each voice could be readily and distinctly recognized. another year passed, and she conversed with a younger companion, whom she fancied she was instructing on topics of political and religious interest, with surprising ability and a frequent display of wit. henceforth she led two different kinds of life; when awake she was stupid, awkward in her movements, and unable to appreciate music; in her sleep she became clever and showed amazing information and great musical talents. at a critical point in her life, when she was twenty-one years old, a complete change took place in the poor girl; her conversation in her magnetic sleep lost all its attractions; she mixed with it improper remarks, and a few months later she had to be sent to an insane asylum. it is only within the present generation that the power possessed by some men to magnetize animals has been revived, although it was no doubt fully known to the ancients, and may in part explain the taming of venomous serpents in the east. the most remarkable case is probably that of mr. jan, director of the zoological gardens at milan, who "charms" serpents and lizards. in the year he was requested by a learned visitor, professor eversmann, to allow him to witness some experiments; he at once seized a lizard (l. viridis) behind the head and looked at it fixedly for a few moments; the animal lay quiet, then became rigid, and remained in any position which he chose to make it assume. upon making a few passes with his forefinger it closed its eyes at his command. mr. jan discovered his gift accidentally one day when a whole bagful of lizards (l. ocellata) had escaped from him, and he forced them by his will and his eye, to return to his keeping. (_der zoolog. garten._ frankfort, , p. .) a frenchman, treseau, exercised the same power over birds, which he exhibited in in paris. he magnetized them with his hand and his breath, but as nine-tenths of the poor creatures died before they became inured to such treatment, no advantage could be derived from his talent. (des mousseaux, p. .) a countryman of his, jacques pelissier, is reported by the same authority to have been able to magnetize not only birds, which allowed themselves to be taken from the trees, but even hares, so that they remained sitting in their forms and were seized with the hand (p. ). somnambulism. it is well known that somnambulism, in the ordinary sense of the word, designates the state of persons who suffer from an affection which disturbs their sleep and causes them to perform strange or ordinary actions, as it may happen, in a state in which they are apparently half awake and half asleep. this disease is already mentioned in the most ancient authors, and its symptoms are correctly reported in aristotle. (_de gener. anim._) he states that the sufferers rise in their sleep, walk about and converse, that they distinguish objects as if they were awake, ascend trees, pursue enemies, perform tasks, and then quietly return to bed. the state of somnambulism seems to be intermediate between ordinary dreaming and magnetic clairvoyance, and is probably the effect of a serious disturbance in our physical life, which causes the brain to act in an unusual and abnormal manner. it has always been observed at night only, and most frequently at full moon, since the moon seems to affect somnambulists not merely by her light, but in each of the different phases in a peculiar manner. the immediate causes of night-walking are often most trivial; as muratori, for instance, tells us of a priest who became a somnambulist whenever he neglected for more than two months to have his hair cut! richard (_théorie des songes_, p. ) mentions an analogous case of an old woman whom he knew to be subject to the same penalty. while nightmares oppress us and make apparently all motion impossible, somnambulism, on the contrary, produces a peculiar facility of locomotion and an irresistible impulse to mount eminences, favored either by an actual diminution of specific gravity, or by an increase of power. this tendency lies again half-way between the sensation of flying, which is quite common in dreams, and the actual elevation from the ground and suspension in the air, which occur in extreme cases of ecstasy. the senses remain during night-walking in a state of semi-activity; the somnambulist may appear as if fast asleep, seeing and hearing nothing, so that the loudest noises and even violent shaking do not rouse him; or he may, like a dreamer, be partly under the influence of outward impressions. one will rise at night, go to the stable, saddle his horse and ride into the woods, while another mounts the window-ledge and performs all the motions of a man on horseback. many move with unfailing certainty on perilous paths, and find their way in deepest darkness; others make blunders and fall, as professor j. feller did, who mistook an open window for a door. by what means they perceive the nature of their surroundings, is still unexplained; it may be the action of the ordinary senses, although these seem to be closed, or they may possess those exceptional faculties which constitute the magic phenomena connected with somnambulism. thus forbes (_brit. and for. med. rev._, ) ascribes their power to an increased sensitiveness of the retina, and mentions the case of dr. curry, who suffered from this symptom to such a degree that he distinguished every object in a completely darkened room with perfect ease. in somnambulists, however, the eyes are generally closed or violently turned up; and in the rare cases in which they are open, they evidently see nothing. it is, besides, well established that people thus affected have continued to read, to play on instruments, and even to write after they had fallen sound asleep, and without ever opening their eyes. the sensitiveness of the retina could here not avail much. a case is mentioned of a father who rose at night, took his child from the cradle, and with wide open eyes carried it up and down the room, seeing nothing, and in such a state of utter unconsciousness that his wife, walking by his side, could safely draw all his secrets from him without his becoming aware of the process or remembering it the next morning. at the age of forty-five he ceased to walk in his sleep, but, instead, had prophetic dreams which revealed to him the occurrences of the following day and later future events. (_heer, observ._) gassendi (_phys._, l. viii. ch. ) mentions a young man, living in provence, who rose in his sleep, dressed, drew wine in the cellar, wrote up the accounts, and in the darkest night never touched objects that were in his way. if he returned quietly to his bed, he slept well, and strangely enough, recalled everything he had done in the night; but if he was suddenly aroused in the cellar or in the street, he was seized with violent trembling and palpitations of the heart. at times he saw but imperfectly; then he fancied he had risen before daybreak, and lit a lamp. the _encyclopédie méthodique_ reports the case of a young priest who wrote his sermons at night, and with closed eyes, and then read each page aloud, correcting and improving what he had written. a sheet of paper held between his eyes and his manuscript did not disturb him; nor did he become aware of it if the latter was removed and blank paper was substituted; in this case he wrote the corrections precisely where they would have been inserted in the text. macnish mentions ("on sleep," p. ) the curious case of an innkeeper in germany, a huge mass of flesh, who fell asleep at all times and in all places, but who, when this happened while he was playing cards, nevertheless continued to follow suit, as if he could see what was led. in , when he was barely years old, he literally fell asleep, paralysis killing him instantly during one of these attacks of sleep. the same author mentions somnambulists who in their sleep walked to the sea-shore and swam for some distance without being waked, and the case of a norwegian who during his paroxysms took a boat and rowed himself about for some time. he was cured of his affection by a tub full of water, which was so placed that he had to step into it when leaving his bed. in scotland a peasant discovered from below the nest of a sea-mew, which hung at an inaccessible height upon a steep rock; some weeks afterwards he rose in his sleep, and to the horror of his friends, who watched him from below, climbed to the place, took the birds, and safely returned to his cabin. in former ages somnambulists were reported to have even committed murder in their sleep; a parisian thus rose, dressed himself, swam across the seine, killed his enemy, and returned the same way without ever awaking; and an englishman also is reported to have murdered a boy, in a state of unconsciousness, while laboring under this affection. modern science, however, knows nothing of such extreme cases, and the plea has not yet been used by astute lawyers. simple somnambulism is not unfrequently connected with magnetic somnambulism, and may occasionally be seen even in trances during daytime. in such cases persons who walk in their sleep may be questioned by bystanders, and in their answers prove themselves not unfrequently able to foretell future events, or to state what is occurring at a distance; or they perform tasks in their sleep which they would not be able to accomplish when awake; they compose music, write poetry, and read works in foreign languages, without possessing the requisite knowledge and training. a poor basket-weaver in germany once heard a sermon which moved him deeply; several weeks later he rose at night, and repeated the whole sermon from beginning to end; his wife tried in vain to rouse him, and the next morning he knew nothing of what had happened. cases of scholars who, sorely puzzled by difficult problems, gave them up before retiring, and then, in the night, rose in a state of somnambulism, and solved them easily, are by no means uncommon. ix. miraculous cures. "spiritus in nobis qui viget, illa facit." --corn. agrippa, ep. xiv. the uniform and indispensable condition of all miraculous cures, whether produced by prayer, imposition of hands, penitential castigation, or magic power, is faith. physician and patient alike must believe that disease is the consequence of sin, and accept the literal meaning of the saviour's words, when he had cured the impotent man near the pool called bethesda, and said: "behold, thou art made whole: _sin_ no more, lest a worse thing come unto thee." (st. john v. .) like their great teacher, all the apostles and saints of the church have ever insisted upon repentance in the heart before health in body could be accorded. it is interesting to notice, moreover, that all oriental sages, the kabbalists and later theosophists, have, without exception, adopted the same view, however widely they may have differed on other points. in one feature only some disagreed: they ascribed to evil spirits what others attributed to sin; but the difference is only nominal, for men, by sin, enter into communion with evil spirits, and become subject to their power. hence the woman "which had a _spirit_ of infirmity eighteen years" was said to have been "bound by satan," and when she was healed she was "loosed from the bond." (luke xiii. .) to this common faith must be added on the part of the physician an energetic will, and in the patient an excited imagination. the history of all ages teaches, beyond the possibility of doubt, that where these elements are present results have been obtained which excite the marvel of men by their astonishing promptness, and their apparent impossibility. they seem generally to be the result of certain symbolic but extremely simple acts, such as the imposition of hands--which may possibly produce a concentration of power--the utterance of a blessing, or merely a continued, fixed glance. the main point, however, is, of course, the psychical energy which is here made available by a process as yet unknown. prayer is probably the simplest agency, since it naturally encourages and elevates the innermost heart of man, and fills him with that perfect hope and confidence which are necessary for his recovery. this hope is, in the case of miraculous cures performed at the shrines of saints, materially strengthened by the collective force of all preceding cures, which tradition has brought to bear upon the mind, while the senses are powerfully impressed, at the same time, by the surroundings, and especially the votive offerings testifying to the reality of former miracles. in the case of relics, where the church sees simply miracles, many men believe in a continuing magic power perceptible only to very sensitive patients; thus the great theologian, tholuk, ascribes to the "handkerchiefs or aprons" which were brought from the body of st. paul, and drove away diseases and evil spirits (acts xix. ), a special curative power with which they were impregnated. (_verm. schriften_, i. p. .) at certain times, when the mind of a whole people is excited, and hence peculiarly predisposed to meet powerful impressions from specially gifted and highly privileged persons, such miraculous cures are, of course, most numerous and most striking. this was the case, for instance, in the first days of christianity, at the time of the reformation, and during the years which saw the order of jesuits established. there is little to be gained, therefore, by confining the era of such phenomena to a certain period--to the days of the apostles, when alone genuine miracles were performed, as many divines believe, or to the first three centuries after christ, during which tholuk and others still see magic performances. magnetic and miraculous cures differ not in their nature, but only in their first cause, precisely as the trance of somnambulists is identical with the trance of religious enthusiasts. the difference lies only in the faith which performs the cure; if it is purely human, the effect will be only partial, and in most cases ephemeral; if divine faith and the highest power co-operate, as in genuine miracles, the effect is instantaneous and permanent. hence the contrast between the man who at the lord's bidding "took up his bed and walked" and the countless cripples who have thrown aside their crutches at the graves of saints, only to resume them a day or two afterward, when, with the excitement, the newly acquired power also had disappeared. but hence, also, the resemblance between many acts of the early jesuit fathers and those of the apostles; the intense energy of the former, supported by pure and unwavering faith, produced results which were to all intents and purposes miraculous. with the death of men like st. xavier, and the rise of worldly ambition in the hearts of the fathers, this power disappeared, and modern miracles have become a snare and a delusion to simple-minded believers. the faith in such psychical power possessed by a few privileged persons is as old as the world. pythagoras performed cures by enchantment; Ælius aristides, who had consulted learned physicians for ten years in vain, and marcus antoninus, were both cured by incubation. tacitus tells us that the emperor vespasian restored a blind man's sight by moistening his eye with saliva, and to a lame man the use of his feet by treading hard upon him. (hist. l. iv. c. .) both cures were performed before an immense crowd in alexandria, and in both cases the petitioners had themselves indicated the means by which they were to be restored, the emperor yielding only very reluctantly to their prayers and the urgent requests of his courtiers. (sueton., _vita vespas._) pyrrhus, king of epirus, had cured colic and diseases of the kidneys by placing the patient on his back and touching him with his big toe (plutarch, _vita pyrrhi_); and hence vespasian and hadrian both used the same method! the imposition of hands, for the purpose of performing miraculous cures, has been practised from time immemorial; chaldees and brahmins alike using it in cases of malignant diseases. the kings of england and of france, and even the counts of hapsburg in germany, have ever been reputed to be able to cure goîtres by the touch of their hands, and hence the complaint was called the "king's evil." the idea seems to have originated in the high north; king olave, the saint, being reported by snorre sturleson as having performed the ceremony. from thence, no doubt, it was carried to england, where edward the confessor seems to have been the first to cure goîtres. in france each monarch upon ascending the throne received at the consecration the secret of the _modus operandi_ and the sacred formula--for here also the spoken word went hand in hand with the magic touch. philip i. was the first and charles i. the last monarch who performed the cure publicly, uttering the ancient phrase: "_le roi te touche, dieu te guérisse!_" in a somewhat similar manner the saludadores and ensalmadores of spain cured, not goîtres and stammering only, as the monarchs we have mentioned, but almost all the ills to which human flesh is heir, by imposition of hands, fervent prayer and breathing upon the patient. similar gifts are ascribed to eastern potentates, and the ruling dynasty in persia claims to have inherited the power of healing the sick from an early ancestor, the holy sheik sephy. the great traveler chardin saw patients hardly able to crawl dragging themselves to the feet of the shah, and beseeching him only to dip the end of his finger into a bowl of water, and thus to bestow upon it healing power. it will excite little wonder to learn that those remarkable men who succeeded by the fire of their eloquence and the power of contagious enthusiasm to array one world in arms against another, the authors of the crusades, should have been able to perform miraculous cures. peter of amiens and bernard of clairvaux obtained such a hold on the minds of faithful believers, that their curse produced spasms and fearful sufferings in the guilty, while their blessing restored speech to the dumb, and health to the sick. here also special power was attributed even to their clothes, and many remarkable results were obtained by the mere touch. spain, the home of fervent ascetic faith, abounds in saints who performed miracles, the most successful of whom was probably raimundus normatus (so called because not born of woman, but cut from his dead mother's body by skillful physicians), who cured, during the plague of , great numbers of men by the sign of the cross. to this class of men belong also, as mentioned before, the early fathers of the society of jesus, though their powers were as different as their characters. ignatius loyola, who represented the intelligence of the new order, performed few miraculous cures; xavier, on the contrary, the man of brilliant fancy, was successful in a great variety of cases. the first leaders, like loinez, salmeron and bobadilla, had no magic power at all, but later successors, like ochioa carrera and kepel, displayed it in a surprising degree, although ochioa's gifts were distinctly limited to the healing of the sick by the imposition of hands. the whole period of this intense excitement extended only over sixteen years, from to , after which the vivid faith, which had alone made the cures possible, disappeared. it is worth mentioning that the jesuits themselves and most of their historians deny that they ever had power to perform miracles, and ascribe the cures to the faith of the patients alone. st. xavier, it is well known, brought the dead to life again, and even if we assume that they lay only in syncope and had not yet really died, the recovery is scarcely less striking. the most remarkable of these cases is that of an only daughter of a japanese nobleman. her death stunned the father, a great lord possessed of immense wealth, to such a degree that his friends feared for his reason; at last they urged him to apply to the great missionary for help. he did so; the jesuit, filled with compassion, asked a brother priest to join him in prayer, and both fell upon their knees and prayed with great fervor. xavier returned to the pagan with joyous face and bade him take comfort, as his daughter was alive and well. the nobleman, very unlike the father in holy writ, was indignant, thinking that the holy man either did not believe his child had died or refused to assist him; but as he went home, a page came running up to meet him, bringing the welcome message that his daughter was really alive and well. she told him after his return, that her soul upon leaving the body had been seized by hideous shapes and dragged towards an enormous fire, but that suddenly two excellent men had interposed, rescuing her from their hands, and leading her back to life. the happy father immediately returned with her to the holy man, and as soon as his child beheld xavier and his companion, she fell down at their feet and declared that they were the friends who had brought her back from the lower world. shortly afterwards the father and his whole family became christians. (orlandini, hist. soc. jesu., ix. c. .) the case seems to be very simple, and is one of the most instructive of modern magic. the girl was not dead, but lay in a cataleptic trance, in which she had visions of fearful scenes, and transformed the fierce hold which the disease had on her body into the grasp of hostile powers trying to obtain possession of her soul. at the same time she became clairvoyant, and thus saw xavier and his companion distinctly enough to recognize them afterwards. the cure was accomplished by the almighty in answer to the fervent prayer of two pious men filled with pure faith, according to the sacred promise: "the effectual, fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much." all the more is it to be regretted that even in those days of genuine piety and rapturous faith, foreign elements should at once have been mixed up with the true doctrine; for already caspar bersaeus ascribed some of his cures to the holy virgin; and soon the power passed away, when the honor was no longer given to him to whom alone it was due. from that day the power to perform miraculous cures has been but rarely and exceptionably granted to a few individuals. thus matthias will, a german divine of the seventeenth century, was as famous for his marvelous power over the sick and the possessed as for his fervent piety, his incessant praying and fasting, and his utter self-abnegation. sufferers were brought to him from every part of christendom, and hundreds who had been given up by their physicians were healed by his earnest prayers and the blessing he invoked from on high. his memory still survives in his home, and an inscription on his tombstone records his extraordinary powers. (cath. encycl., suppl. i. .) even the jansenists, with all their hostility to certain usages of the church, had their famous abbé paris, whose grave in the cemetery of st. médard became in the scene of a number of miraculous cures, fully attested by legal evidence and amply described by montgéron, a man whom the abbé had in his lifetime changed from a reckless profligate into a truly pious christian. (_la vérité des miracles_, etc., paris, .) the magic phenomena exhibited on this occasion were widely discussed and great numbers of books and pamphlets written for and against their genuineness, until the subject became so obscured by party spirit that it is extremely difficult, in our day, to separate the truth from its large admixture of unreliable statements. a peculiar feature of these scenes--admitted in its full extent by adversaries even--was the perfect insensibility of most of the enthusiasts, the so-called _convulsionnaires_. jansenists by conviction, these men, calm and cool in their ordinary pursuits, had been so wrought up by religious excitement that they fell, twenty or more at a time, into violent convulsions and demanded to be beaten with huge iron-shod clubs in order to be relieved of an unbearable pressure upon the abdomen. they endured, in this manner, blows inflicted upon the pit of the stomach which under ordinary circumstances would have caused grievous if not fatal consequences. the above-mentioned witness, who saw their almost incredible sufferings, carré de montgéron, states that he himself used an iron club ending in a ball and weighing from twenty to thirty pounds. one of the female enthusiasts complained that the ordinary blows were not sufficient to give her relief, whereupon he beat her sixty times with all his strength. but this also was unavailing, and a large and more powerful man who was standing near had to take the fearful instrument and with his strong arms gave her a hundred additional blows! the tension of her muscles must have been most extraordinary, for she not only bore the blows, which would have killed a strong person in natural health, but the wall against which she was leaning actually began to tremble and totter from the violent concussion. nor were the blows simply resisted by the turgescence of the body; the skin itself seemed to have been modified in a manner unknown in a state of health. thus one of the brothers marion felt nothing of thrusts made by a sharp-pointed knife against his abdomen and the skin was in no instance injured. to do this the trance in which he lay must necessarily have induced an entire change of the organic atoms, and this is one of the most important magic phenomena connected with this class of visions, which will be discussed in another place. it is well known that the cures performed at the grave of the abbé paris and the terrible scenes enacted there by these _convulsionnaires_ excited so much attention that at last the king saw himself compelled to put a stop to the proceedings. after a careful investigation of the whole matter by men specially appointed for the purpose, the grounds were guarded, access was prohibited, and the wags of paris placed at the entrance the following announcement: "_défense de par le roy. défense à dieu, de faire miracle en ce lieu!_" ireland had in the seventeenth century her greatrakes, who, according to unimpeachable testimony, cured nearly every disease known to man, by his simple touch--and fervent prayer. valentine greatrakes, of waterford, in ireland, had dreamt, in , that he possessed the gift to cure goîtres by simple imposition of hands, after the manner of the kings of england and of france. it was, however, only when the dream was several times repeated that he heeded it and tried his power on his wife. the success he met with in his first effort encouraged him to attempt other cases also, and soon his fame spread so far that he was sent for to come to london and perform some cures at whitehall. he was invariably successful, but had much to endure from the sneers of the courtiers, as he insisted upon curing animals as well as men. his cures were attested by men of high authority, such as john glanville, chaplain to charles ii., bishop rust, of dromor, in ireland, several physicians of great eminence, and the famous robert boyle, the president of the royal society. according to their uniform testimony greatrakes was a simple-hearted, pious man, as far from imposture as from pretension, who firmly believed that god had entrusted to him a special power, and succeeded in impressing others with the same conviction. his method was extremely simple: he placed his hands upon the affected part, or rubbed it gently for some time, whereupon the pains, swellings, or ulcers which he wished to cure, first subsided and then disappeared entirely. it is very remarkable that here also all seemed to depend on the nature of the faith of the patient, for according to the measure of faith held by the latter the cure would be either almost instantaneous or less prompt, and in some cases requiring several days and many interviews. he was frequently accused of practising sorcery and witchcraft, but the doctors faiselow and artetius, as well as boyle, defended him with great energy, while testifying to the reality of his cures. one of the best authenticated, though isolated, cases of this class is the recovery of a niece of blaise pascal, a girl eleven years old. she was at boarding-school at the famous port royal and suffered of a terrible fistula in the eye, which had caused her great pain for three years and threatened to destroy the bones of her face. when her physicians proposed to her to undergo a very painful operation by means of a red-hot iron, some jansenists suggested that she should first be specially prayed for, while at the same time the affected place was touched with a thorn reported to have formed part of the crown of thorns of our saviour. this was done, and on the following day the swelling and inflammation had disappeared, and the eye recovered. the young girl was officially examined by a commission consisting of the king's own physician, dr. felix, and three distinguished surgeons; but they reported that neither art nor nature had accomplished the cure and that it was exclusively to be ascribed to the direct interposition of the almighty. the young lady lived for twenty-five years longer and never had a return of her affection. racine described the case at full length, and so did arnauld and pascal, all affirming the genuineness of the miraculous cure. during the latter part of the last century a father gassner created a very great sensation in germany by means of his marvelous cures and occasional exorcisms of evil spirits. he did not employ for the latter purpose the usual ritual of the catholic church, but simple imposition of hands and invocation of the saviour. nearly all the patients who were brought to him he declared to be under the influence of evil spirits, and divided them into three classes: _circumsessi_, who were only at times attacked, _obsessi_, or bewitched, and _possessi_, who were really possessed. when a sick person was brought to him, he first ordered the evil spirit to show himself and to display all his powers; then he prayed fervently and commanded the demon, in the name of the saviour, to leave his victim. a plain, unpretending man of nearly fifty years, he appeared dressed in a red stole after the fashion prevailing at that time in his native land, and wore a cross containing a particle of the holy cross suspended from a silver chain around his neck. the patient was placed before him so that the light from the nearest window fell fully upon his features, and the bystanders, who always crowded the room, could easily watch all the proceedings. frequently, he would put his stole upon the sufferers' head, seize their brow and neck with outstretched hands, and holding them firmly, utter in a low voice a fervent prayer. then, after having given them his cross to kiss, if they were catholics, he dismissed them with some plain directions as to treatment and an earnest admonition to remain steadfast in faith. probably the most trustworthy account of this remarkable man and his truly miraculous cures was published by a learned and eminent physician, a dr. schisel, who called upon the priest with the open avowal that he came as a skeptic, to watch his proceedings and examine his method. he became so well convinced of father gassner's powers that he placed himself in his hands as a patient, was cured of gout in an aggravated form, and excited the utmost indignation of his professional brethren by candidly avowing his conviction of the sincerity of the priest and the genuineness of his cures. there was, however, one circumstance connected with the exceptional power of this priest, which was even more striking than his cures. his will was so marvelously energetic and his control over weaker minds so perfect that he could at pleasure cause the pulse of his patients to slacken or to hasten, to make them laugh or cry, sleep or wake, to see visions, and even to have epileptic attacks. as may be expected, the majority of his visitors were women and children, but these were literally helpless instruments in his hands. they not only moved and acted, but even felt and thought as he bade them do, and in many cases they were enabled to speak languages while under his influence of which they were ignorant before and after. at ratisbon a committee consisting of two physicians and two priests was directed to examine the priest and his cures; a professor of anatomy carefully watched the pulse and the nerves of the patients which were selected at haphazard, and all confirmed the statements made before; while three other professors, who had volunteered to aid in the investigation, concurred with him in the conviction that there was neither collusion nor imposition to be suspected. the priest, who employed no other means but prayer and the invocation of god by the patients, was declared to be acting in good faith, from pure motives, and for the best purposes; his cures were considered genuine. there was, however, in father gassner's case also an admixture of objectionable elements which must not be overlooked. the desire for notoriety, which enters largely into all such displays of extraordinary powers, led many persons who were perfectly sound to pretend illness, merely for the purpose of becoming, when cured, objects of public wonder. on the other hand, the good father himself was, no doubt, by his own unexpected success, led to go farther than he would otherwise have done in his simplicity and candor. he formed a complete theory of his own to explain the miracles. according to his view the first cause of all such diseases as had their origin in "possession," were the "principalities, powers, rulers of the darkness of this world, and spiritual wickedness in high places," which the apostle mentions as enemies more formidable than "flesh and blood." (ephes. vi. .) these, he believed, dwelt in the air, and by disturbing the atmosphere with evil intent, produced illness in the system and delusions in the mind. if a number combined, and with the permission of the almighty poisoned the air to a large extent, contagious diseases followed as a natural consequence. against these demons or "wiles of the devil" (ephes. vi. ), he employed the only means sanctioned by holy writ--fervent prayer, and this, of course, could have no effect unless the patient fully shared his faith. this faith, again, he was enabled to awaken and to strengthen by the supreme energy of his will, but of course not in all cases; where his prayer failed to have the desired effect he ascribed the disease to a direct dispensation from on high, and not to the agency of evil spirits, or he declared the patient to be wanting in faith. in like manner he explained relapses as the effects of waning faith. the startling phenomena, however, which he thought it necessary to call forth in his patients, before he attempted their restoration, belong to what must be called the magic of our day. for these symptoms bore no relation to the affection under which they suffered. persons afflicted with sore wounds, stiffened limbs, or sightless eyes, would, at his bidding, fall into frightful paroxysms, during which the breathing intermitted, the nose became pointed, the eyes insensible to the touch, and the whole body rigid and livid. and yet, when the paroxysm ceased at his word, the patient felt no evil effects, not even fatigue, and all that had happened was generally instantly forgotten. the case created an immense sensation throughout europe, and the great men of his age took part for or against the poor priest, who was sadly persecuted, and only now and then found a really able advocate, such as lavater. the heaviest penalty he had to bear was the condemnation of his own church, which accompanied an order issued by the emperor joseph ii., peremptorily forbidding all further attempts. the pope, pius vii., who had directed the whole subject to be examined by the well-known _congregatio ss. rituum_, declared in , upon their report, that the priest's proceedings were heretical and not any longer to be permitted, and ordered the bishop, under whose jurisdiction he lived, to prevent any further exercise of his pretended power. all these decrees of papal councils and these orders of imperial officials could, however, not undo what the poor priest had already accomplished, and history has taught us the relative value of investigations held by biased priests, and those carried out by men of science. we may well doubt the judgment of an authority which once condemned a galileo, and even now denounces the press as a curse; but we have no right to suspect the opinion of men who, as physicians and scientists, are naturally disposed to reject all claims of supernatural or even exceptional powers. in more recent times a prince hohenlohe in germany claimed to have performed a number of miraculous cures, beginning with a princess schwarzenberg, whom he commanded "in the name of christ to be well again." many of his patients, however, were only cured for the moment; when their faith, excited to the utmost, cooled down again, their infirmities returned; still there remain facts enough in his life to establish the marvelous power of his strong will, when brought to bear upon peculiarly receptive imaginations, and aided by earnest prayer. (kies., _archiv._ ix. ii: .) sporadic cases of similar powers have of late shown themselves in paris, in the interior of russia, and in ravenna, but the evidence upon which the statements in public journals are made is so clearly unreliable that no important result can be hoped for from their investigation. the present is hardly an age of faith, and enough has surely been said to prove that without very great and sincere faith miraculous cures cannot be performed. x. mysticism. "credo quia absurdum est." --tertullian. one of the most remarkable classes of magic phenomena, which combines almost all other known features of trances with the peculiar kind called stigmatization, is known as mysticism in the more limited sense of that word. it bears this name mainly because it designates attempts made to unite in close communion humanity with divinity, and however imperfect the success of all these efforts may be, on the whole, it cannot be denied that in individual cases very startling results have been obtained. in order to attain their lofty aim, the mystics require an utter deadening of all human affections and all natural impulses, and a thorough change of their usual thoughts and feelings. above all, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of the heart are to be killed by pain; hence the mystics are quite content to suffer, chastise the body, deny themselves the simplest enjoyments, and rejoice in the actual infliction of wounds and mutilations. in return for this complete deadening of human affections they are filled with an ineffable love of the divine saviour, the bridegroom, and the holy virgin, the bride, or even of purely abstract, impalpable beings. they enjoy great inner comforts, and a sense of happiness and peace which transcends all description. whatever may, however, have been the direct cause of their ecstatic condition, disease, asceticism, self-inflicted torments, or long-continued fervent prayer, this highest bliss is accorded to them only during the time of trance. unfortunately this period of happiness is not only painfully short, but also invariably followed by a powerful reaction; according to the laws of our nature, supreme excitement must needs always subside into profound exhaustion, ecstatic bliss into heartrending despondency, and bright visions of heaven into despairing views of unpardonable sins and a hopeless future. hence the fearful doctrines of the mystics of all ages, which prescribe continuous self-denial as the only way to reach god, who as yet is not to be found in the outward world, but only in the inner consciousness of the believer. if the sinner dare not hope to approach the holy one, the repentant believer also is in unceasing danger of losing again what he has gained by fearful sacrifices. the union between him and his god must not only be close, but uninterrupted, a doctrine which has led to the great favor bestowed by mystics upon images derived from earthly love: to them god is forever the bridegroom, the soul the bride, and the union between them the true marriage of the faithful. by such training, skillfully and perseveringly pursued, many persons, especially women, have succeeded in so completely deadening all physical functions of their body as to reduce their life, literally, to the mere operations of sensation and vision. the sufferings produced by these efforts to suppress all natural vitality, to kill, as it were, the living body, rendering the senses inactive, while still in the full vigor of their natural condition, are often not only painful, but actually appalling. a poor woman, famous for her asceticism and her supernatural visions, maria of agreda, was never able to attend to her devotions in the dark, without enduring actual agony. her spiritual light would suddenly become extinguished, fearful horrors fell upon her soul and caused her unspeakable anguish, terrible images as of wild beasts and fierce demons surrounded her, the air was filled with curses and unbearable blasphemies, and even her body was seized with wild, convulsive movements and violent spasms. no wonder, therefore, that numbers of these mystics have lost their reason, and others have fallen victims to terrible diseases. on the other hand, it cannot be denied that many also have been eminent examples of self-denial and matchless devotion, or genuine heroes in combating for their sacred faith and the love of their brethren. their very errors were so attractive that the fundamental mistake was forgotten, and all felt how little, men who act upon mere ordinary motives, are able to rise to the same height of self-sacrifice. nor must it be forgotten, in judging especially the mystics of our days, that their sincerity can never be doubted: they have always acted, and still act upon genuine conviction, and in the firm belief that their work is meritorious, not in the eyes of men, but before the almighty. the ascetics of former ages are not so easily understood; they were men who proposed not only to limit the amenities of life, but to make our whole earthly existence subservient to purely divine purposes; and thus, for instance, francis of assisi, prescribed absolute poverty as the rule of his order. the principal magic phenomena accompanying religious ecstasy are the insensibility of the body to all, even the most violent injuries, and the perception of matters beyond the reach of our senses in healthy life. rigid and long-continued fasting, reduced sleep on a hard couch, and an utter abstinence from all other thoughts or sentiments but such as connect themselves directly with a higher life, never fail to produce the desired effect. by such means the whole nature of man is finally changed; not only in the legitimate relations existing between body and mind, but also in those which connect man with nature; the changes are, therefore, as much physiological as psychical. they result at last in the acquisition of a power which in the eyes of the mystics is identical with that promised in mark xvi. . "they shall take up serpents, and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them." extraordinary as the accounts of the sufferings and the exceptional powers of mystics appear to us, they are in many instances too well authenticated to allow any serious doubt. thus a famous ascetic, rosa of lima, was actually injured by healthy food, but on many occasions instantaneously strengthened by a mere mouthful of bread dipped into pure water; bernard of clairvaux lived for a considerable time on beech-leaves boiled in water, and maria of oignys once subsisted for thirty-five days on the holy wafer of the sacrament, which she took daily. mystics who, like the latter, derived bodily sustenance as well as spiritual comfort from the eucharist, are frequently mentioned in the annals of the church. others, again, succeeded by constant and extreme excitement to heat their blood to such an extent that they became insensible to outward cold, even when the frosts of winter became intolerable to others. the heart itself seems to be affected by such extreme elation; in catherine of siena its violent palpitations and convulsive jerkings could be both seen and felt, when she was in a state of ecstasis, and the heart of filippo neri was found, after death, to have been considerably enlarged, and actually to have broken two ribs by its convulsive spasms. among the rarer but equally well-established magic phenomena of this class must be counted the temporary suspension of the law of gravity. like the brahmins of india, who have long possessed the power of raising themselves unaided from the ground and of remaining suspended in the air, christian mystics also have been seen, more than once, to hang as it were unsupported high above the ground. they quote, in support of their faith in such exceptional powers, the fact that habakkuk also was seized by an angel and carried away through the air, while even the saviour was taken by the devil to an exceeding high mountain on the top of the temple, cases in which the laws of gravity must have been similarly suspended. a large number of holy men, among whom were filippo neri, ignatius loyola, and the founder of the order of dominicans, remained thus suspended in the air for hours and days; one of them, the carmelite monk p. dominicus, in the presence of the king and queen of spain and their whole court. (calmet, p. .) there are even cases known in which this raising of the body has happened to pious persons against their own desire and to their great and sincere distress, as it attracted public attention in a most painful degree. to this class of phenomena belongs also the luminous appearance which seems at times to accompany a high state of religious excitement. this was already the case with moses, who "wist not that the skin of his face shone," and probably of stephen also, when those "that sat in council, looking steadfastly on him, saw his face as it had been the face of an angel." the most startling of these phenomena, however, are those known as stigmatization, when the combined power of fervent, exalted faith and an over-excited imagination produces actual marks of injuries on the body, although no such injuries have ever been inflicted. the annals of the church abound with instances of women especially who, after long meditation on the nature and the merits of crucifixion have borne the marks of nails in hands and feet, an effect which the science of medicine also admits as possible, inasmuch as similar results are of not unfrequent occurrence, at least in newborn infants, whose bodies are marked in consequence of events which had recently made a peculiarly deep impression upon the mothers. unfortunately mysticism also has not been able to keep its votaries free from an admixture of imposture. false miracles are known to have occurred within the church as well as without it, and credulity has accepted many a statement that could not have stood the simplest investigation. it becomes the careful student, therefore, here also to distinguish with the utmost caution genuine and well-authenticated facts from reckless or willfully false statements. even then, however, he ought not to forget the words of pascal, who, in speaking of the apostles said: "i am quite willing to believe stories for whose truthfulness the witnesses have suffered death." it is even by no means improbable that the spiritual world may have its changing productions as well as the material world, and as the organisms of the silurian period are impossible in our day, so-called magic results may have been obtained by certain former generations which lie beyond the power of our own. no one can with certainty determine, in this direction, what is possible and what is impossible; the power of man is emphatically a relative one, and each exploit must, in fairness, be judged with a view to all the accompanying circumstances. it is as impossible for the men of our day to erect pyramids such as the old egyptians built, as it is for an individual in good health to perform feats of strength of which he may be capable under the influence of high fever or violent paroxysms. a curious feature in these phenomena is the intimate relation in which sacred and so-called demoniac influences seem to stand with one another. the saints are represented as tempted by evil spirits which yet have no existence except in their own heart, and the possessed, on the other hand, occasionally have pious impulses and holy thoughts. in the former case it is the innate sinfulness of the heart which creates images of demons such as st. anthony saw in the desert; in the latter case the guardian angels of men are said to come to their rescue. there are even instances on record of men who have wantonly given themselves up to the temporary influence of evil spirits--under the impression that they could thus please god!--as travelers purposely suffer the evil effects of opium or hasheesh in order to test their powers. thus mysticism finally devised a complete system of angels, saints, and demons, whose varied forms and peculiarities became familiar to votaries at an early period of their lives, and filled their minds with images which afterwards assumed an apparent reality during the state of trance. that the physical condition enters as a powerful element in all these phenomena appears clearly from the fact that whenever women are liable to trances or visions of this kind the latter vary regularly with their state of health, and in the majority of cases cease at a certain age. this fact illustrates in a very characteristic manner the mutual relations between body and soul; the condition of the former is reflected in the soul by sentiment and image, and the soul in precisely the same manner impresses itself upon the body. generally this is limited to the face, where the features in their expression reproduce more or less faithfully what is going on within; but in exceptional cases the psychical events cause certain mechanical or physical changes in the body which now and then result in actual illness or become even fatal. experience proves that if the imagination is stimulated to excessive activity, it can produce changes in the nature of the epidermis or even of the mucous membrane, which resemble in everything the symptoms of genuine diseases. there are men who can, by an energetic effort of will, cause red spots, resembling inflammation, to appear in almost every part of the body. in extreme cases this power extends to the production of syncope, in which they become utterly insensible to injuries of any kind, lose all power of motion, and even cease to breathe. st. augustine mentions a number of such cases. (_de civit. dei_, l. xiv. ch. .) the remarkable power of colonel townshend of falling into a state of syncope is too well established to admit of any doubt; he became icy cold and rigid, his heart ceased to beat and his lungs to breathe; the face turned deadly pale, the features grew sharp and pointed, and his eyes remained fixed. by an effort of his own will he could recall himself to life, but one evening, when he tried to repeat the experiment, after having made it in the morning successfully in the presence of three physicians, he failed to awake again. it appeared afterwards that his heart was diseased; he had, however, at the same time, by careful attention and long practice, obtained almost perfect control over that organ. (cheyne, "engl. malady," london, , p. .) indian fakirs have been known to possess a similar power, and have allowed themselves to be buried in air-tight graves, where they have been watched at times for forty days, by military guards, and yet at the expiration of that time have returned to life without apparent injury. a similar power over less vital organs of the body is by no means rare; men are constantly found who can at will conceal their tongue so that even surgeons discover it but with difficulty; others, like justinus kerner, can empty their stomachs of their contents as if they were pockets, or contract and enlarge the pupils of the eyes at pleasure. nor are cases of indians and negroes rare, who in their despair have died merely because they willed it so. there can be no doubt, therefore, that if mere volition can produce such extraordinary results, still more exceptional effects may be obtained by fervent faith and an excessive stimulation of the whole nervous system, and much that appears either incredible or at least in the highest degree marvelous may find an easy and yet satisfactory explanation. genuine stigmatization, that is, the appearance of the five wounds of our saviour, presents itself ordinarily only after many years of constant meditation of his passion, combined with excessive fasting and other ascetic self-torment. the first stage is apt to be a vision of christ's suffering, accompanied by the offer of a wreath of flowers or a crown of thorns. if the mystic chooses the former, the result remains within the limits of the general effects of asceticism; should he, however, choose the crown of thorns, the stigmas themselves are apt to appear. this occurs, naturally, only in the very rare cases, where the mystic possesses that exceptional energy and intense plastic power of the imagination which are requisite in order to suspend the natural relations of soul and body. then the latter, already thoroughly weakened and exhausted, becomes so susceptible to the influence of the soul, that it reproduces, spontaneously and unconsciously, the impressions deeply engraven on the mind, and during the next ecstatic visions the wounds show themselves suddenly. their appearance is invariably accompanied by violent pain, which seems to radiate, in fiery burning darts from the wounds of the image of christ. as the minds of mystics differ infinitely in energy of will and clearness of perception, the stigmas also are seen more or less distinctly; and their nature varies from mere reddish points, which become visible on the head, as the effect of a crown of thorns, to real bleeding wounds. the former are apt to disappear as the excitement subsides or the will is weakened; the latter, however, are peculiar in this, that they do not continue to bleed, and yet, also, do not heal up. in women, only, they are apt to break out again at regular intervals, for instance, on fridays, when the mystic excitement again reaches its highest degree, or at other periods when pressure of blood seeks an outlet through these new openings. as such a state can continue only by means of lengthened inflammation, stigmatization is always accompanied by violent pains and great suffering, especially during the bleeding. the earliest of all cases of stigmatization--of which nearly seventy are fully authenticated--was that of francis of assisi, who, after having spent years in fervent prayer for permission to share the sufferings of the saviour, at last saw a seraph with six wings descend toward him, and between the wings the form of a crucified person. at the same moment he felt piercing pains, and when he recovered from his trance he found his hands and feet, as well as his side, bleeding as from severe wounds, and strange, dark excrescences, resembling nails, protruding from the wounds in his extremities. as this was the first case of stigmatization known, francis of assisi was filled with grave doubts concerning the strange phenomenon, and carefully concealed it from all but his most intimate friends. still the wounds were seen and felt by pope alexander and a number of cardinals during his lifetime, and became an object of careful investigation after his death. (philalethes' _divina comm., paradiso_, p. .) there is but one other case, as fully authenticated, in which a man was thus stigmatized; all other trustworthy instances are related of females. how close the connection is between the will and the appearance of these phenomena may be seen from one of the best-established cases, that of joanna of burgos, in spain, who had shed much blood every week for twenty years in following the recital of the passion of our saviour. when she was seventy years old, her superiors prevailed upon her, by special arguments, to pray fervently for a suspension of her sufferings. she threw herself down before a crucifix, and remained there a day and a night in incessant prayer; on the next morning the wounds had closed, and never again commenced bleeding. another evidence of this feature lies in the fact that stigmatization occurs mainly in italy, the land of imagination, and in spain, the land of devotion; in germany only a few cases are known, and not one in the north of europe and in america. among the famous mystics who do not belong as saints or martyrs exclusively to the church, stand first and foremost henry suso, of the "living heart," and john ruysbroek, the so-called doctor ecstaticus. the former, who often had trances, and once lay for a long time in syncope, has left behind him some of the most attractive works ever written by religious enthusiasts. he lived in the fourteenth century, and when, two hundred years later, his grave was opened the body was found unchanged, and fervent admirers believed they perceived pleasing odors emanating from the remains. the dutch divine ruysbroek was even more renowned by his holy life and admirable writings than by the many marvelous visions which he enjoyed. the same century produced the most famous preacher germany has probably ever seen, john capistran, who attracted the masses by the magic power of his individuality and held them spell-bound by his burning eloquence. a native of capistrano, in the abruzzi, where he was born in , he became first a lawyer, and gained great distinction as such in sicily. unfortunately he was engaged in one of the many petty wars which at that time distracted italy; was made a prisoner and cast with barbaric cruelty into a foul dungeon. here he devoted himself to ascetic devotion, and had a vision ordering him to leave the world. when he regained his liberty, at the age of thirty, he entered the order of franciscan monks, and soon became a preacher of world-wide renown. traveling through italy, hungary, and germany, he affected his audiences by his mere appearance, and produced truly amazing changes in the hearts of thousands. in vienna he once preached, in the open air, before an assembly of more than a hundred thousand men; the people listened to him for hours amid loud weeping and sobbing, and great numbers were converted, including several hundred jews. in bohemia he induced in like manner eleven thousand hussites to return to the catholic church, among whom were numerous noblemen and ministers. similar successes were obtained in almost every large town of germany, till he was recalled to the south, when germany became indebted to him and to john corvin for its deliverance from the turks and the famous victory of belgrade in . during his whole career he continued to have ecstatic visions, to fall into trances of considerable duration, and to behold stigmas on his body--yet, withal, he remained an eminently practical man, not only converting many thousands from their religious errors, but turning them also from vicious habits and criminal pursuits to a life of virtue. at the same time he rendered signal services to his brethren in mere worldly matters, now pleading and now fighting for them with an energy and a success which alone would secure him a name in history. the ecstatic nature of another mystic, vincentio ferrer, produced a singular effect, which has never been noticed except in biblical history. he was a native of valencia, and, knowing no language but the local dialect of his country, he continued throughout life to preach in his mother tongue--and yet he was understood by all who heard him! this result was at least partially explained by the astounding flexibility of his voice, which at all times adapted itself so completely to his feelings, that its tones found a responsive echo in every heart. in vain did the pope, benedict xiii., offer him first a bishopric and afterwards a cardinal's hat; the pious monk refused all honors save one, the title of papal missionary, and in this capacity he passed through nearly every land in christendom, preaching and exhorting day and night, exciting everywhere the utmost enthusiasm and converting thousands from their evil ways. his eloquence and fervor were so great that even learned men and fierce warriors declared he spoke with the voice of an angel, and criminals of deepest dye would fall down in the midst of great crowds, confessing their misdeeds and solemnly vowing repentance and amendment. the greatest of all mystics, however, was the before-mentioned filippo neri, a saint of the catholic church, whose simple candor and truly christian humility have procured for him the esteem and the admiration of men of all creeds and all ages. even as a mere child he was already renowned for his extraordinary gifts as well as for his fervent piety; while still a layman he had numerous visions and trances, and when in his thirtieth year he had prayed for days and nights in the catacombs of st. sebastian, his heart became suddenly so enlarged that some of the intercostal muscles gave way, and a great swelling appeared on the outside, which remained there throughout life, although without causing him any pain. his inner fervor was so great as to keep his blood and his whole system continually at fever heat, and although he lived exclusively upon bread, herbs, and olives, he never wore warm clothes, even in the severest winters, always slept with open doors and windows, and preferred walking about with his breast uncovered. during the last ten years of his life his body was no longer able to sustain his ecstatic soul; whenever he attempted to read mass or to preach, his feelings became so excited that his voice failed him, and he fell into a trance of several hours' duration. it was in this condition that he was frequently lifted up, together with the chair on which he sat, to a height of several feet from the ground. what renders these magic phenomena peculiarly interesting, is the fact that filippo neri not only attached no special value to them, but actually did his best to conceal them from the eyes of the world. as soon as they began to show themselves, he ceased reading mass in the presence of others, and only allowed his attendant to re-enter his cell when the latter had convinced himself, by peeping through a narrow opening in the door, that the trance was over. when others praised his piety and marveled at these wonders, he invariably smiled and said: "don't you know that i am nothing but a fool and a dreamer?" he added that he would infinitely rather do works which should prove his faith than be the recipient of miraculous favors. but his prestige was so great that whenever he was prevailed upon or thought it his duty to exert his influence, it was paramount, and secured to him a powerful control in historical events. thus it was when pope gregory xiv. had excommunicated king henry iv., and his successor, clement viii., continued the fearful punishment in spite of all the entreaties of king and courtiers. filippo neri, foreseeing the dangers which were likely to arise from such measures for the church, and deeply concerned for the welfare of the french people, retired to prayer, inviting the pope's confessor to join him in his devotions. these had been continued for three days without intermission, when at last the saint fell into a trance, and upon re-awaking from it, told his companion: "to-day the pope will send for you to confess him. you will tell him, when his confession is made: 'father filippo has directed me to refuse your holiness absolution, and ever to confess you again till you have relieved the king of france from excommunication.'" clement, deeply moved by this message, summoned immediately the council of cardinals, and henry iv. was once more received into the bosom of the church. in spite of this great influence, neri sternly refused all honors and dignities, even the purple, which was offered to him three times, and died in , eighty years old, on the day and at the hour which he had long since foretold. that his visions were accompanied by actual stigmatization has already been mentioned. our own continent has had but one great mystic, rosa of lima, who is hence known as _primus americæ meridionalis flos_. she had inherited her peculiar organization from her mother, who had frequently seen visions, and when the child was three years old, changed her name from isabel to rosa, because she had seen a rose suspended over the face of her daughter. much admired on account of her great beauty and rare sweetness, the young girl refused all offers, and preferred, in spite of the remonstrances of friends and of brutal ill-treatment on the part of her brothers, to enter a convent. on her way there, however, she felt her steps suddenly arrested by superior force, and saw in this supernatural interruption a hint that she should leave the world even more completely than she could have done as a nun of the order of st. dominick. she built herself, therefore, a little cell in her father's garden, and here led a life of ecstatic asceticism, during which she often remained for days and weeks without food, and became strangely intimate with birds and insects. whenever she took the eucharist, she felt marvelous happiness and fell into trances; in the intervals, however, she suffered intensely from that depression and utter despair which in such cases are apt to result from powerful reaction. she died quite young, exhausted by her ascetic life and continued excitement, and has ever since been revered as the patron saint of peru. the end. prof. schele de vere's works. wonders of the deep. by m. schele de vere, professor of the university of virginia. third edition, mo, cloth, $ . . illustrated, cloth, gilt, $ . chief contents. pearls. corals. facts and fables. mercury. oysters. lighthouses. odd fish. knight in armor. a pinch of salt. a grain of sand. the earth in trouble. "one of the freshest, most scientific, and at the same time most popular and delightful books of the kind we have ever read."--_st. john's telegraph._ "these essays make a valuable addition to the standard literature of the time. the author, who is one of the profoundest scientists of the age and one of the most brilliant essayists of the country has brought from the depths of the ocean vast stores of hidden knowledge.... the charm of the book is the skillful and yet natural way in which plain facts have been put. we were attracted toward them by their freshness, and soon we are following on with intense interest and enthusiasm. the chapters on "pearls," "corals," "mercury," and "a pinch of salt," and, in fact, nearly all the others are absorbingly interesting."--_newark, n. j., register._ stray leaves from the book of nature. new edition, illustrated. mo, cloth, $ . . "the book is peculiarly fascinating."--_chicago journal._ "the entire work is full of charming description and pleasant information."--_courier-journal, louisville._ "this little book will prove of great service to hundreds of readers into whose hands it may fall."--_new haven palladium._ "a better work for the young than half the story books published."--_rural new yorker._ the romance of american history. mo, cloth extra, $ . . contents. lo! the poor indian. the hidden river. our first romance. a few town names. kaisers, kings, and knights. lost towns. lost lands. "we can only repeat that it is intensely interesting, and full of instructive matter that every american should make himself familiar with."--_toledo commercial._ "in the selection of early historical curiosities the author has evinced nice taste and tact, and he possesses in an eminent degree the rare and invaluable art of investing the dry details of history with a romantic color and hue."--_american athenæum._ modern magic. mo, cloth. contents. witchcraft. black and white magic. dreams. visions. ghosts. divination. possession. magnetism. miraculous cases. mysticism. --> for sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of price by g. p. putnam's sons, publishers, _ th ave. and d st., new york._ in course of publication. putnam's elementary and advanced science series, _adapted to the requirements of students in science and art classes, and higher and middle class schools._ elementary series. _printed uniformly in mo, fully illustrated, cloth extra, price, cents each._ . practical plane and solid geometry. by h. angel, islington science school, london. . machine construction and drawing. by e. tomkins, queen's college, liverpool. a building construction--stone, brick and slate work. by r. s. burn, c.e., manchester. b building construction--timber and iron work. by r. s. burn, c.e., manchester. . naval architecture--shipbuilding and laying off. by s. j. p. thearle, f.r.s.n.a., london. . pure mathematics. by lewis sergeant, b.a., (camb.,) london. . theoretical mechanics. by william rossiter, f.r.a.s., f.c.s., london. . applied mechanics. by william rossiter, f.r.a.s., london. . acoustics, light and heat. by william lees, a.m., lecturer on physics, edinburgh. . magnetism and electricity. by john angell, senior science master, grammar school, manchester. . inorganic chemistry. by dr. w. b. kemshead, f.r.a.s., dulwich college, london. . organic chemistry. by w. marshall watts, d.sc., (lond.,) grammar school, giggleswick. . geology. by. w. s. davis, ll.d., derby. . mineralogy. by j. h. collins, f.g.s., royal cornwall polytechnic society, falmouth. . animal physiology. by john angell, senior science master, grammar school, manchester. . zoology. by m. harbison, head-master model schools, newtonards. . vegetable anatomy and physiology. by j. h. balfour, m.d., edinburgh university. . systematic and economic botany. by j. h. balfour, m.d., edinburgh university. . metallurgy. by john mayer, f.c.s., glasgow. . navigation. by henry evers, ll.d., plymouth. . nautical astronomy. by henry evers, ll.d. a steam and the steam engine--land and marine. by henry evers, ll.d., plymouth. b steam and steam engine--locomotive. by henry evers, ll.d., plymouth. . physical geography. by john macturk, f.r.g.s. . practical chemistry. by john howard, london. . astronomy. by j. j. plummer, observatory, durham. transcriber's note: obvious typographical errors in punctuation and spelling have been corrected without comment. one example of an obvious typographical error is on page where the word "utterred" was changed to "uttered" in the phrase: "... he uttered a piercing cry...." in addition to obvious errors the following changes have been made: . page : the phrase "as early in " was changed to "as early as ". . page : "cocoa" was changed to "coca" in the phrase, "... opium, betel, hasheesh, and coca...." . page : "aureditated" was changed to "accredited" to reflect the correct title of jarvis' book: "accredited ghost stories". . page : "aured." was changed to "accred." in the phrase, "accred. ghost stories". . page : "aids" was changed to "aides" in the phrase, "general d'espagne roused his aides...." . on the ad page, the illustration of a hand symbol has been replaced with "-->". the spelling of most proper names has been left unchanged with the following exceptions: . "göethe", "goëthe" and "goethe" has been standardized to "goethe". . page : "shilling" was changed to "stilling" (jung stilling, author of "jenseits" cf. pp. , , ). . page : "marca erivigiana" was changed to "marca trivigiana". . page : "waltyries" was changed to "walkyries" in the phrase, "walkyries and the heroes...." . page : "eassner" was changed to "gassner" (cf. p. ) in the phrase, "... famous father gassner ... of ratisbon...." . page : "mondez" was changed to "mondes" in the journal title, "revue des deux mondes", (cf. p. ). in other cases, the author's original spelling and use of punctuation has been left intact. internal inconsistencies which have been retained in this transcription as in the original include (but are not limited to): apostacy/ apostasy pickolitch/ prickolitch Æthiopian/ ethiopian aurora boreales/ aurora borealis on page : "... thus in a famous astrologer, the father of all weather prophecies in our almanacs, predicted that in the month of february, ...." on page : the phrase, "... mutters the word one...." has been retained as printed, but may be intended as "... mutters the word om...." item number is missing from the ad page. studies in occultism by h.p. blavatsky studies in occultism a series of reprints from the writings of h.p. blavatsky no. practical occultism occultism versus the occult arts the blessings of publicity point loma edition the aryan theosophical press point loma, california see book list at the end of this volume for the other numbers of this series and also for other theosophical literature. contents page practical occultism from _lucifer_, april, occultism versus the occult arts from _lucifer_, may, the blessings of publicity from _lucifer_, august, occultism is not magic, though magic is one of its tools. occultism is not the acquirement of powers, whether psychic or intellectual, though both are its servants. neither is occultism the pursuit of happiness, as men understand the word; for the first step is sacrifice, the second, renunciation. occultism is the science of life, the art of living.--_lucifer_, vol. i, p. . practical occultism important to students as some of the letters in the correspondence of this month show, there are many people who are looking for practical instruction in occultism. it becomes necessary, therefore, to state once for all:-- (_a_) the essential difference between theoretical and practical occultism; or what is generally known as theosophy on the one hand, and occult science on the other, and:-- (_b_) the nature of the difficulties involved in the study of the latter. it is easy to become a theosophist. any person of average intellectual capacities, and a leaning toward the metaphysical; of pure, unselfish life, who finds more joy in helping his neighbor than in receiving help himself; one who is ever ready to sacrifice his own pleasures for the sake of other people; and who loves truth, goodness, and wisdom for their own sake, not for the benefit they may confer--is a theosophist. but it is quite another matter to put oneself upon the path which leads to the knowledge of what is good to do, as to the right discrimination of good from evil; a path which also leads a man to that power through which he can do the good he desires, often without even apparently lifting a finger. moreover, there is one important fact with which the student should be made acquainted. namely, the enormous, almost limitless responsibility assumed by the teacher for the sake of the pupil. from the gurus of the east who teach openly or secretly, down to the few kabalists in western lands who undertake to teach the rudiments of the sacred science to their disciples--those western hierophants being often themselves ignorant of the danger they incur--one and all of these "teachers" are subject to the same inviolable law. from the moment they begin _really_ to teach, from the instant they confer _any_ power--whether psychic, mental, or physical--on their pupils, they take upon themselves _all_ the sins of that pupil, in connexion with the occult sciences, whether of omission or commission, until the moment when initiation makes the pupil a master and responsible in his turn. there is a weird and mystic religious law, greatly reverenced and acted upon in the greek, half-forgotten in the roman catholic, and absolutely extinct in the protestant church. it dates from the earliest days of christianity and has its basis in the law just stated, of which it was a symbol and an expression. this is the dogma of the absolute sacredness of the relation between the god-parents who stand sponsors for a child.[a] these tacitly take upon themselves all the sins of the newly baptized child--(anointed, as at the initiation, a mystery truly!)--until the day when the child becomes a responsible unit, knowing good and evil. thus it is clear why the "teachers" are so reticent, and why "chelas" are required to serve a seven years probation to prove their fitness, and develop the qualities necessary to the security of both master and pupil. occultism is not magic. it is _comparatively_ easy to learn the trick of spells and the methods of using the subtler, but still material, forces of physical nature; the powers of the animal soul in man are soon awakened; the forces which his love, his hate, his passion, can call into operation, are readily developed. but this is black magic--_sorcery_. for it is the motive, _and the motive alone_, which makes any exercise of power become black, malignant, or white, beneficent magic. it is impossible to employ _spiritual_ forces if there is the slightest tinge of selfishness remaining in the operator. for, unless the intention is entirely unalloyed, the spiritual will transform itself into the psychic, act on the astral plane, and dire results may be produced by it. the powers and forces of animal nature can equally be used by the selfish and revengeful, as by the unselfish and the all-forgiving; the powers and forces of spirit lend themselves only to the perfectly pure in heart--and this is divine magic. what are then the conditions required to become a student of the "divina sapientia"? for let it be known that no such instruction can possibly be given unless these certain conditions are complied with, and rigorously carried out during the years of study. this is a _sine quâ non_. no man can swim unless he enters deep water. no bird can fly unless its wings are grown, and it has space before it and courage to trust itself to the air. a man who will wield a two-edged sword, must be a thorough master of the blunt weapon, if he would not injure himself--or what is worse--others, at the first attempt. to give an approximate idea of the conditions under which alone the study of divine wisdom can be pursued with safety, that is without danger that divine will give place to black magic, a page is given from the "private rules," with which every instructor in the east is furnished. the few passages which follow are chosen from a great number and explained in brackets. * * * * * . the place selected for receiving instruction must be a spot calculated not to distract the mind, and filled with "influence-evolving" (magnetic) objects. the five sacred colors gathered in a circle must be there among other things. the place must be free from any malignant influences hanging about in the air. [the place must be set apart, and used for no other purpose. the five "sacred colors" are the prismatic hues arranged in a certain way, as these colors are very magnetic. by "malignant influences" are meant any disturbances through strifes, quarrels, bad feelings, etc., as these are said to impress themselves immediately on the astral light, i.e., in the atmosphere of the place, and to hang "about in the air." this first condition seems easy enough to accomplish, yet--on further consideration, it is one of the most difficult ones to obtain.] . before the disciple shall be permitted to study "face to face," he has to acquire preliminary understanding in a select company of other lay _upâsakas_ (disciples), the number of whom must be odd. ["face to face" means in this instance a study independent or apart from others, when the disciple gets his instruction _face to face_ either with himself (his higher, divine self) or--his guru. it is then only that each receives _his due_ of information, according to the use he has made of his knowledge. this can happen only toward the end of the cycle of instruction.] . before thou (the teacher) shalt impart to thy lanoo (disciple) the good (holy) words of lamrin, or shalt permit him "to make ready" for _dubjed_, thou shalt take care that his mind is thoroughly purified and at peace with all, especially _with his other selves_. otherwise the words of wisdom and of the good law, shall scatter and be picked up by the winds. ["lamrin" is a work of practical instructions, by tson-kha-pa, in two portions, one for ecclesiastical and exoteric purposes, the other for esoteric use. "to make ready" for _dubjed_, is to prepare the vessels used for seership, such as mirrors and crystals. the "other selves," refers to the fellow students. unless the greatest harmony reigns among the learners, _no_ success is possible. it is the teacher who makes the selections according to the magnetic and electric natures of the students, bringing together and adjusting most carefully the positive and the negative elements.] . the _upâsakas_ while studying must take care to be united as the fingers on one hand. thou shalt impress upon their minds that whatever hurts one should hurt the others, and if the rejoicing of one finds no echo in the breasts of the others, then the required conditions are absent, and it is useless to proceed. [this can hardly happen if the preliminary choice made was consistent with the magnetic requirements. it is known that chelas otherwise promising and fit for the reception of truth, had to wait for years on account of their temper and the impossibility they felt to put themselves _in tune_ with their companions. for--] . the co-disciples must be tuned by the guru as the strings of a lute (_vina_) each different from the others, yet each emitting sounds in harmony with all. collectively they must form a key-board answering in all its parts to thy lightest touch (the touch of the master). thus their minds shall open for the harmonies of wisdom, to vibrate as knowledge through each and all, resulting in effects pleasing to the presiding gods (tutelary or patron-angels) and useful to the lanoo. so shall wisdom be impressed forever on their hearts and the harmony of the law shall never be broken. . those who desire to acquire the knowledge leading to the _siddhis_ (occult powers) have to renounce all the vanities of life and of the world (here follows enumeration of the siddhis). . none can feel the difference between himself and his fellow-students, such as "i am the wisest," "i am more holy and pleasing to the teacher, or in my community, than my brother," etc.,--and remain an upâsaka. his thoughts must be predominantly fixed upon his heart, chasing therefrom every hostile thought to any living being. it (the heart) must be full of the feeling of its non-separateness from the rest of beings as from all in nature; otherwise no success can follow. . a _lanoo_ (disciple) has to dread external living influence alone (magnetic emanations from living creatures). for this reason while at one with all, in his _inner nature_, he must take care to separate his outer (external) body from every foreign influence: none must drink out of, or eat in his cup but himself. he must avoid bodily contact (i.e., being touched or touch) with human, as with animal being. [no pet animals are permitted, and it is forbidden even to touch certain trees and plants. a disciple has to live, so to say, in his own atmosphere in order to individualize it for occult purposes.] . the mind must remain blunt to all but the universal truths in nature, lest the "doctrine of the heart" should become only the "doctrine of the eye," (i.e., empty exoteric ritualism). . no animal food of whatever kind, nothing that has life in it should be taken by the disciple. no wine, no spirits, or opium should be used; for these are like the _lhama-yin_ (evil spirits), who fasten upon the unwary, they devour the understanding. [wine and spirits are supposed to contain and preserve the bad magnetism of all the men who helped in their fabrication; the meat of each animal, to preserve the psychic characteristics of its kind.] . meditation, abstinence in all, the observation of moral duties, gentle thoughts, good deeds and kind words, as good will to all and entire oblivion of self, are the most efficacious means of obtaining knowledge and preparing for the reception of higher wisdom. . it is only by virtue of a strict observance of the foregoing rules that a lanoo can hope to acquire in good time the siddhis of the arhats, the growth which makes him become gradually one with the universal all. * * * * * these extracts are taken from among some rules, to enumerate which would be useless as they would be meaningless in europe. but even these few are enough to show the immensity of the difficulties which beset the path of the would-be "upâsaka," who has been born and bred in western lands.[b] all western, and especially english, education is instinct with the principle of emulation and strife; each boy is urged to learn more quickly, to outstrip his companions, and to surpass them in every possible way. what is mis-called "friendly rivalry" is assiduously cultivated, and the same spirit is fostered and strengthened in every detail of life. with such ideas "educated into" him from his childhood, how can a western bring himself to feel towards his co-students "as the fingers on one hand"? those co-students, too, are not of his _own selection_, or chosen by himself from personal sympathy and appreciation. they are chosen by his teacher on far other grounds, and he who would be a student must _first_ be strong enough to kill out in his heart all feelings of dislike and antipathy to others. how many westerns are ready even to attempt this in earnest? and then the details of daily life, the command not to touch even the hand of one's nearest and dearest. how contrary to western notions of affection and good feeling! how cold and hard it seems. egotistical too, people would say, to abstain from giving pleasure to others for the sake of one's own development. well, let those who think so defer till another lifetime the attempt to enter the path in real earnest. but let them not glory in their own fancied unselfishness. for, in reality, it is only the seeming appearances which they allow to deceive them, the conventional notions, based on emotionalism and gush, or so-called courtesy, things of the unreal life, not the dictates of truth. but even putting aside these difficulties, which may be considered "external," though their importance is none the less great, how are students in the west to "attune themselves" to harmony as here required of them? so strong has personality grown in europe and america, that there is no school of artists even whose members do not hate and are not jealous of each other. "professional" hatred and envy have become proverbial; men seek each to benefit himself at all costs, and even the so-called courtesies of life are but a hollow mask covering these demons of hatred and jealousy. in the east the spirit of "non-separateness" is inculcated as steadily from childhood up, as in the west the spirit of rivalry. personal ambition, personal feelings and desires, are not encouraged to grow so rampant there. when the soil is naturally good, it is cultivated in the right way, and the child grows into a man in whom the habit of subordination of one's lower to one's higher self is strong and powerful. in the west men think that their own likes and dislikes of other men and things are guiding principles for them to act upon, even when they do not make of them the law of their lives and seek to impose them upon others. let those who complain that they have learned little in the theosophical society lay to heart the words written in an article in the _path_ for last february:--"the key in each degree is the _aspirant himself_." it is not "the fear of god" which is "the beginning of wisdom," but the knowledge of self which is wisdom itself. how grand and true appears, thus, to the student of occultism who has commenced to realize some of the foregoing truths, the answer given by the delphic oracle to all who came seeking after occult wisdom--words repeated and enforced again and again by the wise socrates:--man know thyself. chelaship has nothing _whatever_ to do with means of subsistence or anything of the kind, for a man can isolate his mind entirely from his body and its surroundings. chelaship is a _state of mind_, rather than a life according to hard and fast rules, on the physical plane. this applies especially to the earlier, probationary period, while the rules given in _lucifer_ for april last pertain properly to a later stage, that of actual occult training and the development of occult powers and insight. these rules indicate, however, the mode of life which ought to be followed by all aspirants _so far as practicable_, since it is the most helpful to them in their aspirations. it should never be forgotten that occultism is concerned with the _inner man_, who must be strengthened and freed from the dominion of the physical body and its surroundings, which must become his servants. hence the _first_ and chief necessity of chelaship is a spirit of absolute unselfishness and devotion to truth; then follow self-knowledge and self-mastery. these are all-important; while outward observance of fixed rules of life is a matter of secondary moment.--_lucifer_: iv, , note. occultism versus the occult arts "i oft have heard, but ne'er believed till now, there are, who can by potent magic spells bend to their crooked purpose nature's laws." _milton_ in this month's correspondence several letters testify to the strong impression produced on some minds by our last month's article "practical occultism." such letters go far to prove and strengthen two logical conclusions:-- (_a_) there are more well-educated and thoughtful men who believe in the existence of occultism and magic (the two differing vastly) than the modern materialist dreams of; and:-- (_b_) that most of the believers (comprising many theosophists) have no definite idea of the nature of occultism and confuse it with the occult sciences in general, the "black art" included. their representations of the powers it confers upon man, and of the means to be used to acquire them are as varied as they are fanciful. some imagine that a master in the art, to show the way, is all that is needed to become a zanoni. others, that one has but to cross the canal of suez and go to india to bloom forth as a roger bacon or even a count st. germain. many take for their ideal margrave with his ever-renewing youth, and care little for the soul as the price paid for it. not a few, mistaking "witch-of-endorism" pure and simple, for occultism--"through the yawning earth from stygian gloom, call up the meager ghost to walks of light," and want, on the strength of this feat, to be regarded as full blown adepts. "ceremonial magic" according to the rules mockingly laid down by Éliphas lévi, is another imagined _alter ego_ of the philosophy of the arhats of old. in short, the prisms through which occultism appears, to those innocent of the philosophy, are as multicolored and varied as human fancy can make them. will these candidates to wisdom and power feel very indignant if told the plain truth? it is not only useful, but it has now become _necessary_ to disabuse most of them and before it is too late. this truth may be said in a few words: there are not in the west half-a-dozen among the fervent hundreds who call themselves "occultists," who have even an approximately correct idea of the nature of the science they seek to master. with a few exceptions, they are all on the highway to sorcery. let them restore some order in the chaos that reigns in their minds, before they protest against this statement. let them first learn the true relation in which the occult sciences stand to occultism, and the difference between the two, and then feel wrathful if they still think themselves right. meanwhile, let them learn that occultism differs from magic and other secret sciences as the glorious sun does from a rush-light, as the immutable and immortal spirit of man--the reflection of the absolute, causeless, and unknowable all,--differs from the mortal clay--the human body. in our highly civilized west, where modern languages have been formed, and words coined, in the wake of ideas and thoughts--as happened with every tongue--the more the latter became materialized in the cold atmosphere of western selfishness and its incessant chase after the goods of this world, the less was there any need felt for the production of new terms to express that which was tacitly regarded as obsolete and exploded "superstition." such words could answer only to ideas which a cultured man was scarcely supposed to harbor in his mind. "magic," a synonym for jugglery; "sorcery," an equivalent for crass ignorance; and "occultism," the sorry relic of crack-brained, medieval fire-philosophers, of the jacob boehmes and the st. martins, are expressions believed more than amply sufficient to cover the whole field of "thimble-rigging." they are terms of contempt, and used generally only in reference to the dross and residues of the dark ages and its preceding aeons of paganism. therefore have we no terms in the english tongue to define and shade the difference between such abnormal powers, or the sciences that lead to the acquisition of them, with the nicety possible in the eastern languages--pre-eminently the sanskrit. what do the words "miracle" and "enchantment" (words identical in meaning after all, as both express the idea of producing wonderful things by _breaking the laws of nature_ [!!] as explained by the accepted authorities) convey to the minds of those who hear, or who pronounce them? a christian--_breaking_ "of the laws of nature," notwithstanding--while believing firmly in the _miracles_, because said to have been produced by god through moses, will either scout the enchantments performed by pharoah's magicians, or attribute them to the devil. it is the latter whom our pious enemies connect with occultism, while their impious foes, the infidels, laugh at moses, magicians, and occultists, and would blush to give one serious thought to such "superstitions." this, because there is no term in existence to show the difference; no words to express the lights and shadows and draw the line of demarcation between the sublime and the true, the absurd and the ridiculous. the latter are the theological interpretations which teach the "breaking of the laws of nature" by man, god, or devil; the former--the _scientific_ "miracles" and enchantments of moses and the magicians _in accordance with natural laws_, both having been learned in all the wisdom of the sanctuaries, which were the "royal societies" of those days--and in true occultism. this last word is certainly misleading, translated as it stands from the compound word _guptâ-vidyâ_, "secret knowledge." but the knowledge of what? some of the sanskrit terms may help us. there are four (out of the many other) names of the various kinds of esoteric knowledge or sciences given, even in the exoteric purânas. there is ( ) _yajña-vidyâ_,[c] knowledge of the occult powers awakened in nature by the performance of certain religious ceremonies and rites. ( ) _mahâ-vidyâ_, the "great knowledge," the magic of the kabalists and of the _tântrika_ worship, often sorcery of the worst description. ( ) _guhyâ-vidyâ_, knowledge of the mystic powers residing in sound (ether), hence in the _mantras_ (chanted prayers or incantations) and depending on the rhythm and melody used; in other words a magical performance based on knowledge of the forces of nature and their correlation; and ( ) Âtma-vidyâ, a term which is translated simply "knowledge of the soul," _true wisdom_ by the orientalists, but which means far more. this last is the only kind of occultism that any theosophist who admires _light on the path_, and who would be wise and unselfish, ought to strive after. all the rest is some branch of the "occult sciences," i.e., arts based on the knowledge of the ultimate essence of all things in the kingdom of nature--such as minerals, plants, and animals--hence of things pertaining to the realm of _material_ nature, however invisible that essence may be, and howsoever much it has hitherto eluded the grasp of science. alchemy, astrology, occult physiology, chiromancy exist in nature, and the _exact_ sciences--perhaps so called because they are found in this age of paradoxical philosophies the reverse--have already discovered not a few of the secrets of the above _arts_. but clairvoyance, symbolized in india as the "eye of siva," called in japan, "infinite vision," is _not_ hypnotism, the illegitimate son of mesmerism, and is not to be acquired by such arts. all the others may be mastered and results obtained, whether good, bad, or indifferent; but _Âtma-vidyâ_ sets small value on them. it includes them all, and may even use them occasionally, but it does so after purifying them of their dross, for beneficent purposes, and taking care to deprive them of every element of selfish motive. let us explain: any man or woman can set himself or herself to study one or all of the above specified "occult arts" without any great previous preparation, and even without adopting any too restraining mode of life. one could even dispense with any lofty standard of morality. in the last case, of course, ten to one the student would blossom into a very decent kind of sorcerer, and tumble down headlong into black magic. but what can this matter? the _voodoos_ and the _dugpas_ eat, drink and are merry over hecatombs of victims of their infernal arts. and so do the amiable gentlemen vivisectionists and the _diploma-ed_ "hypnotizers" of the faculties of medicine; the only difference between the two classes being that the voodoos and the dugpas are _conscious_, and the charcot-richet crew _unconscious_ sorcerers. thus, since both have to reap the fruits of their labors and achievements in the black art, the western practitioners should not have the punishment and reputation without the profits and enjoyments they may get therefrom. for we say it again, _hypnotism_ and _vivisection_ as practised in such schools, are _sorcery_ pure and simple, _minus_ a knowledge that the voodoos and dugpas enjoy, and which no charcot-richet can procure for himself in fifty years of hard study and experimental observation. let then those who will dabble in magic, whether they understand its nature or not, but who find the rules imposed upon students too hard, and who, therefore, lay Âtma-vidyâ or occultism aside--go without it. let them become magicians by all means, even though they do become _voodoos_ and _dugpas_ for the next ten incarnations. but the interest of our readers will probably center on those who are invincibly attracted towards the "occult," yet who neither realize the true nature of what they aspire towards, nor have they become passion-proof, far less truly unselfish. how about these unfortunates, we shall be asked, who are thus rent in twain by conflicting forces? for it has been said too often to need repetition, and the fact itself is patent to any observer, that when once the desire for occultism has really awakened in a man's heart, there remains for him no hope of peace, no place of rest and comfort in all the world. he is driven out into the wild and desolate spaces of life by an ever-gnawing unrest he cannot quell. his heart is too full of passion and selfish desire to permit him to pass the golden gate; he cannot find rest or peace in ordinary life. must he then inevitably fall into sorcery and black magic, and through many incarnations heap up for himself a terrible karma? is there no other road for him? indeed there is, we answer. let him aspire to no higher than he feels able to accomplish. let him not take a burden upon himself too heavy for him to carry. without ever becoming a "mahâtmâ," a buddha, or a great saint, let him study the philosophy and the "science of soul," and he can become one of the modest benefactors of humanity, without any "superhuman" powers. _siddhis_ (or the arhat powers) are only for those who are able to "lead the life," to comply with the terrible sacrifices required for such a training, and to comply with them _to the very letter_. let them know at once and remember always, that _true occultism or theosophy_ is the "great renunciation of self," unconditionally and absolutely, in thought as in action. it is altruism, and it throws him who practises it out of calculation of the ranks of the living altogether. "not for himself, but for the world, he lives," as soon as he has pledged himself to the work. much is forgiven during the first years of probation. but, no sooner is he "accepted" than his personality must disappear, and he has to become _a mere beneficent force in nature_. there are two poles for him after that, two paths, and no midward place of rest. he has either to ascend laboriously, step by step, often through numerous incarnations and _no devachanic break_, the golden ladder leading to mahâtmâship (the _arhat_ or _bodhisattva_ condition), or--he will let himself slide down the ladder at the first false step, and roll down into _dugpa-ship_.... all this is either unknown or left out of sight altogether. indeed, one who is able to follow the silent evolution of the preliminary aspirations of the candidates, often finds strange ideas quietly taking possession of their minds. there are those whose reasoning powers have been so distorted by foreign influences that they imagine that animal passions can be so sublimated and elevated that their fury, force, and fire can, so to speak, be turned inwards; that they can be stored and shut up in one's breast, until their energy is, not expanded, but turned toward higher and more holy purposes; namely, _until their collective and unexpanded strength enables their possessor to enter the true sanctuary of the soul_ and stand therein in the presence of the _master_--the higher self! for this purpose they will not struggle with their passions nor slay them. they will simply, by a strong effort of will put down the fierce flames and keep them at bay within their natures, allowing the fire to smolder under a thin layer of ashes. they submit joyfully to the torture of the spartan boy who allowed the fox to devour his entrails rather than part with it. oh, poor, blind visionaries! as well hope that a band of drunken chimney-sweeps, hot and greasy from their work, may be shut up in a sanctuary hung with pure white linen, and that instead of soiling and turning it by their presence into a heap of dirty shreds, they will become masters in and of the sacred recess, and finally emerge from it as immaculate as that recess. why not imagine that a dozen of skunks imprisoned in the pure atmosphere of a _dgon-pa_ (a monastery) can issue out of it impregnated with all the perfumes of the incenses used?... strange aberration of the human mind. can it be so? let us argue. the "master" in the sanctuary of our souls is "the higher self"--the divine spirit whose consciousness is based upon and derived solely (at any rate during the mortal life of the man in whom it is captive) from the mind, which we have agreed to call the _human soul_ (the "spiritual soul" being the vehicle of the spirit). in its turn the former (the _personal_ or human soul) is a compound in its highest form, of spiritual aspirations, volitions and divine love; and in its lower aspect, of animal desires and terrestrial passions imparted to it by its associations with its vehicle, the seat of all these. it thus stands as a link and a medium between the animal nature of man which its higher reason seeks to subdue, and his divine spiritual nature to which it gravitates, whenever it has the upper hand in its struggle with the _inner animal_. the latter is the instinctual "animal soul" and is the hotbed of those passions, which, as just shown, are lulled instead of being killed, and locked up in their breasts by some imprudent enthusiasts. do they still hope to turn thereby the muddy stream of the animal sewer into the crystalline waters of life? and where, on what neutral ground can they be imprisoned so as not to affect man? the fierce passions of love and lust are still alive and they are allowed to still remain in the place of their birth--_that same animal soul_; for both the higher and the lower portions of the "human soul" or mind reject such inmates, though they cannot avoid being tainted with them as neighbors. the "higher self" or spirit is as unable to assimilate such feelings as water to get mixed with oil or unclean liquid tallow. it is thus the mind alone--the sole link and medium between the man of earth and the higher self--that is the only sufferer, and which is in the incessant danger of being dragged down by those passions that may be reawakened at any moment, and perish in the abyss of matter. and how can it ever attune itself to the divine harmony of the highest principle, when that harmony is destroyed by the mere presence, within the sanctuary in preparation, of such animal passions? how can harmony prevail and conquer, when the soul is stained and distracted with the turmoil of passions and the terrestrial desires of the bodily senses, or even of the "astral man"? for this "astral"--the shadowy "double" (in the animal as in man)--is not the companion of the _divine ego_ but of the _earthly body_. it is the link between the personal self, the lower consciousness of _manas_ and the body, and is the vehicle of _transitory_, _not of immortal life_. like the shadow projected by man, it follows his movements and impulses slavishly and mechanically, and leans therefore to matter without ever ascending to spirit. it is only when the power of the passions is dead altogether, and when they have been crushed and annihilated in the retort of an unflinching will; when not only all the lusts and longings of the flesh are dead, but also the recognition of the personal self is killed out and the "astral" has been reduced in consequence to a cipher, that the union with the "higher self" can take place. then when the "astral" reflects only the conquered man, the still living, but no more the longing, selfish personality, then the brilliant _augoeides_, the divine self, can vibrate in conscious harmony with both the poles of the human entity--the man of matter purified, and the ever pure spiritual soul--and stand in the presence of the master self, the christos of the mystic gnostics, blended, merged into, and one with it for ever.[d] how then can it be thought possible for a man to enter the "strait gate" of occultism when his daily and hourly thoughts are bound up with worldly things, desires of possession and power, with lust, ambition and duties, which, however honorable, are still of the earth earthy? even the love for wife and family--the purest as the most unselfish of human affections--is a barrier to _real_ occultism. for whether we take as an example the holy love of a mother for her child, or that of a husband for his wife, even in these feelings, when analysed to the very bottom, and thoroughly sifted, there is still _selfishness_ in the first, and an _égoisme à deux_ in the second instance. what mother would not sacrifice without a moment's hesitation hundreds and thousands of lives for that of the child of her heart? and what lover or true husband would not break the happiness of every other man and woman around him to satisfy the desire of one whom he loves? this is but natural, we shall be told. quite so; in the light of the code of human affections; less so, in that of divine universal love. for, while the heart is full of thoughts for a little group of _selves_, near and dear to us, how shall the rest of mankind fare in our souls? what percentage of love and care will there remain to bestow on the "great orphan"? and how shall the "still small voice" make itself heard in a soul entirely occupied with its own privileged tenants? what room is there left for the needs of humanity _en bloc_ to impress themselves upon, or even receive a speedy response? and yet, he who would profit by the wisdom of the universal mind, has to reach it through _the whole of humanity_ without distinction of race, complexion, religion or social status. it is _altruism_, not _ego-ism_ even in its most legal and noble conception, that can lead the unit to merge its little self in the universal selves. it is to _these_ needs and to this work that the true disciple of true occultism has to devote himself, if he would obtain _theo_-sophy, divine wisdom and knowledge. the aspirant has to choose absolutely between the life of the world and the life of occultism. it is useless and vain to endeavor to unite the two, for no one can serve two masters and satisfy both. no one can serve his body and the higher soul, and do his family duty and his universal duty, without depriving either one or the other of its rights; for he will either lend his ear to the "still small voice" and fail to hear the cries of his little ones, or, he will listen but to the wants of the latter and remain deaf to the voice of humanity. it would be a ceaseless, a maddening struggle for almost any married man, who would pursue true practical occultism, instead of its _theoretical_ philosophy. for he would find himself ever hesitating between the voice of the impersonal divine love of humanity, and that of the personal, terrestrial love. and this could only lead him to fail in one or the other, or perhaps in both his duties. worse than this; for, _whoever indulges, after having pledged himself to_ occultism, _in the gratification of a terrestrial love or lust_, must feel an almost immediate result; that of being irresistibly dragged from the impersonal divine state down to the lower plane of matter. sensual, or even mental self-gratification, involves the immediate loss of the powers of spiritual discernment; the voice of the master can no longer be distinguished from that of one's passions or _even that of a dugpa_; the right from wrong; sound morality from mere casuistry. the dead sea fruit assumes the most glorious mystic appearance, only to turn to ashes on the lips, and to gall in the heart, resulting in:-- depth ever deepening, darkness darkening still; folly for wisdom, guilt for innocence; anguish for rapture, and for hope despair. and once being mistaken and having acted on their mistakes, most men shrink from realizing their error, and thus descend deeper and deeper into the mire. and, although it is the intention that decides primarily whether _white_ or _black_ magic is exercised, yet the results even of involuntary, unconscious sorcery cannot fail to be productive of bad karma. enough has been said to show that _sorcery is any kind of evil influence exercised upon other persons, who suffer, or make other persons suffer, in consequence_. karma is a heavy stone splashed in the quiet waters of life; and it must produce ever widening circles of ripples, carried wider and wider, almost _ad infinitum_. such causes produced have to call forth effects, and these are evidenced in the just laws of retribution. much of this may be avoided if people will only abstain from rushing into practices neither the nature nor importance of which they understand. no one is expected to carry a burden beyond his strength and powers. there are "natural-born magicians"; mystics and occultists by birth, and by right of direct inheritance from a series of incarnations and aeons of suffering and failures. these are passion-proof, so to say. no fires of earthly origin can fan into a flame any of their senses or desires; no human voice can find response in their souls, except the great cry of humanity. these only may be certain of success. but they can be met only far and wide, and they pass through the narrow gates of occultism because they carry no personal luggage of human transitory sentiments along with them. they have got rid of the feeling of the lower personality, paralysed thereby the "astral" animal, and the golden, but narrow gate is thrown open before them. not so with those who have to carry yet for several incarnations the burden of sins committed in previous lives, and even in their present existence. for such, unless they proceed with great caution, the golden gate of wisdom may get transformed into the wide gate and the broad way "that leadeth unto destruction," and therefore "many be they that enter in thereby." this is the gate of the occult arts, practised for selfish motives and in the absence of the restraining and beneficent influence of Âtma-vidyâ. we are in the kali yuga and its fatal influence is a thousand-fold more powerful in the west than it is in the east; hence the easy preys made by the powers of the age of darkness in this cyclic struggle, and the many delusions under which the world is now laboring. one of these is the relative facility with which men fancy they can get at the "gate" and cross the threshold of occultism without any great sacrifice. it is the dream of most theosophists, one inspired by desire for power and personal selfishness, and it is not such feelings that can ever lead them to the coveted goal. for, as well said by one believed to have sacrificed himself for humanity--"strait is the gate and narrow is the way which leadeth unto life" eternal, and therefore "few there be that find it." (_matt._ vii, ) so strait indeed, that at the bare mention of some of the preliminary difficulties the affrighted western candidates turn back and retreat with a shudder.... let them stop here and attempt no more in their great weakness. for if, while turning their backs on the narrow gate, they are dragged by their desire for the occult one step in the direction of the broad and more inviting gates of that golden mystery which glitters in the light of illusion, woe to them! it can lead only to dugpa-ship, and they will be sure to find themselves very soon landed on that _via fatale_ of the _inferno_, over whose portal dante read the words:-- _per me si va nella citta dolente_ _per me si va nell' eterno dolore_ _per me si va tra la perduta gente...._ the blessings of publicity a well-known public lecturer, a distinguished egyptologist, said, in one of his lectures against the teachings of theosophy, a few suggestive words, which are now quoted and must be answered:-- it is a delusion to suppose there is anything in the experience or wisdom of the past, the ascertained results of which can only be communicated from beneath the cloak and mask of mystery.... explanation is the soul of science. they will tell you _we cannot have their knowledge without living their life_.... public experimental research, the printing press, and a free-thought platform, have abolished the need of mystery. it is no longer necessary for science to take the veil, as she was forced to do for security in times past.... this is a very mistaken view in one aspect. "secrets of the purer and profounder life" not only _may_ but _must_ be made universally known. but _there are secrets that kill_ in the arcana of occultism, and unless a man _lives the life_ he cannot be entrusted with them. the late professor faraday had very serious doubts whether it was quite wise and reasonable to give out to the public at large certain discoveries of modern science. chemistry had led to the invention of too terrible means of destruction in our century to allow it to fall into the hands of the profane. what man of sense--in the face of such fiendish applications of dynamite and other explosive substances as are made by those incarnations of the destroying power, who glory in calling themselves anarchists and socialists--would not agree with us in saying:--far better for mankind that it should never have blasted a rock by modern perfected means, than that it should have shattered the limbs of one per cent even of those who have been thus destroyed by the pitiless hand of russian nihilists, irish fenians, and anarchists. that such discoveries, and chiefly their murderous application, ought to have been withheld from public knowledge may be shown on the authority of statistics and commissions appointed to investigate and record the result of the evil done. the following information gathered from public papers will give an insight into what may be in store for wretched mankind. england alone--the center of civilization--has , firms fabricating and selling explosive substances.[e] but the centers of the dynamite trade, of infernal machines, and other such results of modern civilization, are chiefly at philadelphia and new york. it is in the former city of "brotherly love" that the now most famous manufacturer of explosives flourishes. it is one of the well-known respectable citizens--the inventor and manufacturer of the most murderous "dynamite toys"--who, called before the senate of the united states anxious to adopt means for the repression of a _too free trade_ in such implements, found an argument that ought to become immortalized for its cynical sophistry--"my _machines_," that expert is reported to have said--"are quite _harmless to look at_; as they may be manufactured in the shape of oranges, hats, boats, and anything one likes.... criminal is he who murders people by means of such machines, not he who manufactures them. the firm refuses to admit that were there no supply there would be no incentive for demand on the market; but insists that every demand should be satisfied by a supply ready at hand." that "supply" is the fruit of civilization and of the publicity given to the discovery of every murderous property in matter. what is it? as found in the report of the commission appointed to investigate the variety and character of the so-called "infernal machines," so far the following implements of instantaneous human destruction are already on hand. the most fashionable of all among the many varieties fabricated by mr. holgate are the "ticker," the "eight day machine," the "little exterminator," and the "bottle machines." the "ticker" is in appearance like a piece of lead, a foot long and four inches thick. it contains an iron or steel tube full of a kind of gunpowder invented by holgate himself. that gunpowder, in appearance like any other common stuff of that name, has, however, an explosive power two hundred times stronger than common gunpowder; the "ticker" containing thus a powder which equals in force two hundred pounds of the common gunpowder. at one end of the machine is fastened an invisible clock-work meant to regulate the time of the explosion, which time may be fixed from one minute to thirty-six hours. the spark is produced by means of a steel needle which gives a spark at the touch-hole, and communicates thereby the fire to the whole machine. the "eight day machine" is considered the most powerful, but at the same time the most complicated, of all those invented. one must be familiar with handling it before a full success can be secured. it is owing to this difficulty that the terrible fate intended for london bridge and its neighborhood was turned aside by the instantaneous killing instead of the two fenian criminals. the size and appearance of that machine changes, proteus-like, according to the necessity of smuggling it in, in one or another way, unperceived by the victims. it may be concealed in bread, in a basket of oranges, in a liquid, and so on. the commission of experts is said to have declared that its explosive power is such as to reduce to atoms instantly the largest edifice in the world. the "little exterminator" is an innocent-looking plain utensil having the shape of a modest jug. it contains neither dynamite nor powder, but secretes, nevertheless, a deadly gas, and has a hardly perceptible clock-work attached to its edge, the needle of which points to the time when that gas will effect its escape. in a shut-up room this new "vril" of lethal kind will _smother to death, nearly instantaneously_, every living being within a distance of a hundred feet radius of the murderous jug. with these three "latest novelties" in the high season of christian civilization, the catalog of the dynamiters is closed; all the rest belongs to the old "fashion" of the past years. it consists of hats, _porte cigars_, bottles of ordinary kind, and even _ladies' smelling bottles_, filled with dynamite, nitro-glycerin, etc., etc.--weapons, some of which, following unconsciously karmic law, killed many of the dynamiters in the last chicago _revolution_. add to this the forthcoming long-promised keeley's vibratory force, capable of reducing in a few seconds a dead bullock to a heap of ashes, and then ask yourself if the _inferno_ of dante as a locality can ever rival earth in the production of more hellish engines of destruction? thus, if purely material implements are capable of blowing up, from a few corners, the greatest cities of the globe, provided the murderous weapons are guided by expert hands--what terrible dangers might not arise from magical _occult_ secrets being revealed, and allowed to fall into the possession of ill-meaning persons! a thousand times more dangerous and lethal are these, because neither the criminal hand, nor the _immaterial_ invisible weapon used, can ever be detected. the congenital _black_ magicians--those who, to an innate propensity towards evil, unite highly-developed mediumistic natures--are but too numerous in our age. it is nigh time then that the psychologists and believers, at least, should cease advocating the beauties of publicity and claiming knowledge of the secrets of nature for all. it is not in our age of "suggestion" and "explosives" that occultism can open wide the doors of its laboratories except to those who _do_ live the life. h.p.b. footnotes: [a] so holy is the connexion thus formed deemed in the greek church, that a marriage between god-parents of the same child is regarded as the worst kind of incest, is considered illegal, and is dissolved by law; and this absolute prohibition extends even to the children of one of the sponsors as regards those of the other. [b] be it remembered that _all_ "chelas," even lay disciples, are called upâsaka until after their first initiation, when they become lanoo-upâsaka. to that day, even those who belong to lamaseries and are _set apart_, are considered as "laymen." [c] "the _yajña_," say the brâhmans, "exists from eternity, for it proceeded forth from the supreme one ... in whom it lay dormant from '_no_ beginning.' it is the key to the traividya, the thrice sacred science contained in the rig verses, which teaches the yajus or sacrificial mysteries. 'the yajña' exists as an invisible thing at all times; it is like the latent power of electricity in an electrifying machine, requiring only the operation of a suitable apparatus in order to be elicited. it is supposed to extend from the _ahavaniya_ or sacrificial fire to the heavens, forming a bridge or ladder by means of which the sacrificer can communicate with the world of gods and spirits, and even ascend when alive to their abodes."--martin haug's _aitareya brâhmana_. "this _yajña_ is again one of the forms of the _Âkâsa_; and the mystic word calling it into existence and pronounced mentally by the initiated priest is the lost word receiving impulse through will power."--_isis unveiled_, vol. i. introduction. see _aitareya brâhmana_, haug. [d] those who would feel inclined to see three _egos_ in one man will show themselves unable to perceive the metaphysical meaning. man is a trinity composed of body, soul and spirit; but _man_ is nevertheless _one_ and is surely not his body. it is the latter which is the property, the transitory clothing of the man. the three "egos" are man in his three aspects on the astral, intellectual or psychic, and the spiritual planes, or states. [e] nitro-glycerin has found its way even into medical compounds. physicians and druggists are vying with the anarchists in their endeavors to destroy the surplus of mankind. the famous chocolate tablets against dyspepsia are said to contain nitro-glycerin! they may save, but they can kill still more easily. _there is no religion higher than truth_ the universal brotherhood and theosophical society _established for the benefit of the people of the earth & all creatures_ * * * * * objects this brotherhood is part of a great and universal movement which has been active in all ages. this organization declares that brotherhood is a fact in nature. its principal purpose is to teach brotherhood, demonstrate that it is a fact in nature and make it a living power in the life of humanity. its subsidiary purpose is to study ancient and modern religions, science, philosophy and art; to investigate the laws of nature and the divine powers in man. * * * * * the universal brotherhood and theosophical society, founded by h.p. blavatsky at new york, , continued after her death under the leadership of the co-founder, william q. judge, and now under the leadership of their successor, katherine tingley, has its headquarters at the international theosophical center, point loma, california. this organization is not in any way connected with nor does it endorse any other societies using the name of theosophy. the universal brotherhood and theosophical society welcomes to membership all who truly love their fellow men and desire the eradication of the evils caused by the barriers of race, creed, caste or color, which have so long impeded human progress; to all sincere lovers of truth and to all who aspire to higher and better things than the mere pleasures and interests of a worldly life, and are prepared to do all in their power to make brotherhood a living energy in the life of humanity, its various departments offer unlimited opportunities. the whole work of the organization is under the direction of the leader and official head, katherine tingley, as outlined in the constitution. * * * * * do not fail to profit by the following: it is a regrettable fact that many people use the name of theosophy and of our organization for self-interest, as also that of h.p. blavatsky, the foundress, to attract attention to themselves and to gain public support. this they do in private and public speech and in publications, also by lecturing throughout the country. without being in any way connected with the universal brotherhood and theosophical society, in many cases they permit it to be inferred that they are, thus misleading the public, and many honest inquirers are hence led away from the truths of theosophy as presented by h.p. blavatsky and her successors, william q. judge and katherine tingley, and practically exemplified in their theosophical work for the uplifting of humanity. the international brotherhood league founded in by katherine tingley its objects are: . to help men and women to realize the nobility of their calling and their true position in life. . to educate children of all nations on the broadest lines of universal brotherhood, and to prepare destitute and homeless children to become workers for humanity. . to ameliorate the condition of unfortunate women, and assist them to a higher life. . to assist those who are, or have been, in prisons, to establish themselves in honorable positions in life. . to abolish capital punishment. . to bring about a better understanding between so-called savage and civilized races, by promoting a closer and more sympathetic relationship between them. . to relieve human suffering resulting from flood, famine, war, and other calamities; and, generally, to extend aid, help and comfort to suffering humanity throughout the world. for further information regarding the above notices, address katherine tingley international theosophical headquarters, point loma, california books recommended to inquirers for _complete_ book list write to the theosophical publishing co., point loma, california * * * * * isis unveiled (h.p. blavatsky). vols., royal vo, about pages; cloth; with portrait of the author. _point loma edition, with a preface._ postpaid . key to theosophy, the (h.p. blavatsky). _point loma edition, with glossary and exhaustive index. portraits of h.p. blavatsky and w.q. judge._ vo, cloth, pages. postpaid . a clear exposition of theosophy in form of question and answer. the book for students. secret doctrine, the (h.p. blavatsky). the synthesis of science, religion, and philosophy. new point loma edition, vols., royal vo, about pages; cloth. postpaid . voice of the silence, the (for the daily use of disciples). translated and annotated by h.p. blavatsky. pocket size, leather . mysteries of the heart doctrine, the. prepared by katherine tingley and her pupils. square vo, cloth . paper . a series of eight pamphlets, comprising different articles in above, paper, each . life at point loma, the. some notes by katherine tingley, leader and official head of the universal brotherhood and theosophical society . reprinted from the _los angeles post_, dec., . katherine tingley, humanity's friend; a visit to katherine tingley (by john hubert greusel); a study of râja yoga at point loma (reprint from the san francisco _chronicle_, january th, ). the above three comprised in a pamphlet of pages, published by the woman's theosophical propaganda league, point loma . light on the path (m.c.), with comments, and a chapter on karma; leather . embossed paper . bhagavad gîtâ (w.q. judge, amer. edition) pocket size, morocco, gilt edges . _the pearl of the scriptures of the east._ yoga aphorisms (trans. by william q. judge). pocket size, leather . echoes from the orient (w.q. judge); cloth . paper . valued articles, giving a broad outline of the theosophical doctrines, written for the newspaper-reading public. epitome of theosophical teachings, an (w.q. judge), pages . concentration, culture of. (w.q. judge) . errors of christian science, some of the. criticism by h.p. blavatsky and william q. judge . hypnotism: theosophical views on. ( pp.) . nightmare tales. (h.p. blavatsky). _newly illustrated by r. machell._ a collection of the weirdest tales ever written down. they contain paragraphs of the profoundest mystical philosophy. cloth . paper . theosophical manuals elementary handbooks for students price, each, paper . ; cloth . no. . elementary theosophy. no. . the seven principles of man. no. . karma. no. . reincarnation. no. . man after death. no. . kâmaloka and devachan. no. . teachers and their disciples. no. . the doctrine of cycles. no. . psychism, ghostology, and the astral plane. no. . the astral light. no. . psychometry, clairvoyance, and thought-transference. no. . the angel and the demon. ( vols., c. each) no. . the flame and the clay. no. . on god and prayer. no. . theosophy: the mother of religions. no. . from crypt to pronaos an essay on the rise and fall of dogma no. . earth its parentage; its rounds and its races no. . sons of the firemist a study of man the path series _specially adapted for inquirers in theosophy._ already published no. . the purpose of the universal brotherhood and theosophical society . no. . theosophy generally stated (w.q. judge) . no. . mislaid mysteries (h. coryn, m.d.) . no. . theosophy and its counterfeits . no. . some perverted presentations of theosophy (h.t. edge, b.a.) . thirty copies $ . ; copies $ . * * * * * occultism, studies in (h.p. blavatsky). pocket size, vols., cloth; per set . vol. . practical occultism. occultism _vs._ the occult arts. the blessing of publicity . vol. . hypnotism. black magic in science. signs of the times . vol. . psychic and noetic action . vol. . kosmic mind. dual aspect of wisdom . vol. . esoteric character of the gospels . vol. . astral bodies. constitution of the inner man . lotus group literature lotus library for children introduced under the direction of katherine tingley . the little builders and their voyage to rangi. (r. n.) . . the coming of the king (machell); cloth, gilt edges . lotus song book. fifty original songs with copyrighted music . lotus song--"the sun temple"--_with music_ . * * * * * theosophical periodicals century path. illustrated weekly, edited by katherine tingley a magazine devoted to the brotherhood of humanity, the promulgation of theosophy and the study of ancient and modern ethics, philosophy, science and art. year $ . single copy . write for a sample copy to new century corporation point loma, california, u.s.a. râja yoga messenger. _illustrated._ monthly. yearly subscription . unsectarian publication for young folk, conducted by a staff of pupils of the râja yoga school at lomaland. address master albert g. spalding, business manager râja yoga messenger, point loma, california. * * * * * international theosophical chronicle. _illustrated._ monthly. yearly subscription, postpaid . the theosophical book co., bartlett's buildings, holborn circus, london, e.c. theosophia. _illustrated._ monthly. yearly subscription, postpaid . universella broderskapets förlag, box stockholm , sweden. universale bruderschaft. _illustrated._ monthly. yearly subscription, postpaid . j. th. heller, vestnertorgraben , nürnberg, germany. lotus-knoppen. _illustrated._ monthly. yearly subscription, postpaid . a. goud, steentilstraat , groningen, holland. subscriptions to the above four magazines may be secured also through the theosophical publishing co., point loma, california. * * * * * neither the editors of the those publications, nor the officers of the universal brotherhood and theosophical society, or of any of its departments, receive salaries or other remuneration. all profits arising from the business of the theosophical publishing co. are devoted to humanitarian work. all who assist in this work are directly helping that cause. "il est bon de connaitre les delires de l'esprit humain. chaque people a ses folies plus ou moins grossieres." millot memories of extraordinary popular delusions vol ii. by charles mackay contents of the second volume. the crusades the witch mania the slow poisoners haunted houses the crusades .... they heard, and up they sprung upon the wing innumerable. as when the potent rod of amram's son, in egypt's evil day, waved round the coast, up call'd a pitchy cloud of locusts, warping on the eastern wind that o'er the realm of impious pharaoh hung like night, and darken'd all the realm of nile, so numberless were they. * * * * * * * * * * * all in a moment through the gloom were seen ten thousand banners rise into the air, with orient colours waving. with them rose a forest huge of spears; and thronging helms appear'd, and serried shields, in thick array, of depth immeasurable. paradise lost. every age has its peculiar folly--some scheme, project, or phantasy into which it plunges, spurred on either by the love of gain, the necessity of excitement, or the mere force of imitation. failing in these, it has some madness, to which it is goaded by political or religious causes, or both combined. every one of these causes influenced the crusades, and conspired to render them the most extraordinary instance upon record of the extent to which popular enthusiasm can be carried. history in her solemn page informs us, that the crusaders were but ignorant and savage men, that their motives were those of bigotry unmitigated, and that their pathway was one of blood and tears. romance, on the other hand, dilates upon their piety and heroism and pourtrays in her most glowing and impassioned hues their virtue and magnanimity, the imperishable honour they acquired for themselves, and the great services they rendered to christianity. in the following pages we shall ransack the stores of both, to discover the true spirit that animated the motley multitude who took up arms in the service of the cross, leaving history to vouch for facts, but not disdaining the aid of contemporary poetry and romance to throw light upon feelings, motives, and opinions. in order to understand thoroughly the state of public feeling in europe at the time when peter the hermit preached the holy war, it will be necessary to go back for many years anterior to that event. we must make acquaintance with the pilgrims of the eighth, ninth, and tenth centuries, and learn the tales they told of the dangers they had passed, and the wonders they had seen. pilgrimages to the holy land seem at first to have been undertaken by converted jews, and by christian devotees of lively imagination, pining with a natural curiosity to visit the scenes which of all others were most interesting in their eyes. the pious and the impious alike flocked to jerusalem,--the one class to feast their sight on the scenes hallowed by the life and sufferings of their lord, and the other, because it soon became a generally received opinion, that such a pilgrimage was sufficient to rub off the long score of sins, however atrocious. another and very numerous class of pilgrims were the idle and roving, who visited palestine then as the moderns visit italy or switzerland now, because it was the fashion, and because they might please their vanity by retailing, on their return, the adventures they had met with. but the really pious formed the great majority. every year their numbers increased, until at last they became so numerous as to be called the "armies of the lord." full of enthusiasm, they set the danger and difficulty of the way at defiance, and lingered with holy rapture on every scene described in the evangelists. to them it was bliss indeed to drink the clear waters of the jordan, or be baptized in the same stream where john had baptized the saviour. they wandered with awe and pleasure in the purlieus of the temple, on the solemn mount of olives, or the awful calvary, where a god had bled for sinful men. to these pilgrims every object was precious. relics were eagerly sought after; flagons of water from jordan, or paniers of mould from the hill of the crucifixion, were brought home, and sold at extravagant prices to churches and monasteries. more apocryphical relics, such as the wood of the true cross, the tears of the virgin mary, the hems of her garments, the toe-nails and hair of the apostles--even the tents that paul had helped to manufacture--were exhibited for sale by the knavish in palestine, and brought back to europe "with wondrous cost and care." a grove of a hundred oaks would not have furnished all the wood sold in little morsels as remnants of the true cross; and the tears of mary, if collected together, would have filled a cistern. for upwards of two hundred years the pilgrims met with no impediment in palestine. the enlightened haroun al reschid, and his more immediate successors, encouraged the stream which brought so much wealth into syria, and treated the wayfarers with the utmost courtesy. the race of fatemite caliphs,--who, although in other respects as tolerant, were more distressed for money, or more unscrupulous in obtaining it, than their predecessors of the house of abbas,--imposed a tax of a bezant for each pilgrim that entered jerusalem. this was a serious hardship upon the poorer sort, who had begged their weary way across europe, and arrived at the bourne of all their hopes without a coin. a great outcry was immediately raised, but still the tax was rigorously levied. the pilgrims unable to pay were compelled to remain at the gate of the holy city until some rich devotee arriving with his train, paid the tax and let them in. robert of normandy, father of william the conqueror, who, in common with many other nobles of the highest rank, undertook the pilgrimage, found on his arrival scores of pilgrims at the gate, anxiously expecting his coming to pay the tax for them. upon no occasion was such a boon refused. the sums drawn from this source were a mine of wealth to the moslem governors of palestine, imposed as the tax had been at a time when pilgrimages had become more numerous than ever. a strange idea had taken possession of the popular mind at the close of the tenth and commencement of the eleventh century. it was universally believed that the end of the world was at hand; that the thousand years of the apocalypse were near completion, and that jesus christ would descend upon jerusalem to judge mankind. all christendom was in commotion. a panic terror seized upon the weak, the credulous, and the guilty, who in those days formed more than nineteen twentieths of the population. forsaking their homes, kindred, and occupation, they crowded to jerusalem to await the coming of the lord, lightened, as they imagined, of a load of sin by their weary pilgrimage. to increase the panic, the stars were observed to fall from heaven, earthquakes to shake the land, and violent hurricanes to blow down the forests. all these, and more especially the meteoric phenomena, were looked upon as the forerunners of the approaching judgments. not a meteor shot athwart the horizon that did not fill a district with alarm, and send away to jerusalem a score of pilgrims, with staff in hand and wallet on their back, praying as they went for the remission of their sins. men, women, and even children, trudged in droves to the holy city, in expectation of the day when the heavens would open, and the son of god descend in his glory. this extraordinary delusion, while it augmented the numbers, increased also the hardships of the pilgrims. beggars became so numerous on all the highways between the west of europe and constantinople that the monks, the great alms-givers upon these occasions, would have brought starvation within sight of their own doors, if they had not economized their resources, and left the devotees to shift for themselves as they could. hundreds of them were glad to subsist upon the berries that ripened by the road, who, before this great flux, might have shared the bread and flesh of the monasteries. but this was not the greatest of their difficulties. on their arrival in jerusalem they found that a sterner race had obtained possession of the holy land. the caliphs of bagdad had been succeeded by the harsh turks of the race of seljook, who looked upon the pilgrims with contempt and aversion. the turks of the eleventh century were more ferocious and less scrupulous than the saracens of the tenth. they were annoyed at the immense number of pilgrims who overran the country, and still more so because they showed no intention of quitting it. the hourly expectation of the last judgment kept them waiting; and the turks, apprehensive of being at last driven from the soil by the swarms that were still arriving, heaped up difficulties in their way. persecution of every kind awaited them. they were plundered, and beaten with stripes, and kept in suspense for months at the gates of jerusalem, unable to pay the golden bezant that was to facilitate their entrance. when the first epidemic terror of the day of judgment began to subside, a few pilgrims ventured to return to europe, their hearts big with indignation at the insults they had suffered. everywhere as they passed they related to a sympathizing auditory the wrongs of christendom. strange to say, even these recitals increased the mania for pilgrimage. the greater the dangers of the way, the more chance that sins of deep dye would be atoned for. difficulty and suffering only heightened the merit, and fresh hordes issued from every town and village, to win favour in the sight of heaven by a visit to the holy sepulchre. thus did things continue during the whole of the eleventh century. the train that was to explode so fearfully was now laid, and there wanted but the hand to apply the torch. at last the man appeared upon the scene. like all who have ever achieved so great an end, peter the hermit was exactly suited to the age; neither behind it, nor in advance of it; but acute enough to penetrate its mystery ere it was discovered by any other. enthusiastic, chivalrous, bigoted, and, if not insane, not far removed from insanity, he was the very prototype of the time. true enthusiasm is always persevering and always eloquent, and these two qualities were united in no common degree in the person of this extraordinary preacher. he was a monk of amiens, and ere he assumed the hood had served as a soldier. he is represented as having been ill favoured and low in stature, but with an eye of surpassing brightness and intelligence. having been seized with the mania of the age, he visited jerusalem, and remained there till his blood boiled to see the cruel persecution heaped upon the devotees. on his return home he shook the world by the eloquent story of their wrongs. before entering into any further details of the astounding results of his preaching, it will be advisable to cast a glance at the state of the mind of europe, that we may understand all the better the causes of his success. first of all, there was the priesthood, which, exercising as it did the most conspicuous influence upon the fortunes of society, claims the largest share of attention. religion was the ruling idea of that day, and the only civiliser capable of taming such wolves as then constituted the flock of the faithful. the clergy were all in all; and though they kept the popular mind in the most slavish subjection with regard to religious matters, they furnished it with the means of defence against all other oppression except their own. in the ecclesiastical ranks were concentrated all the true piety, all the learning, all the wisdom of the time; and, as a natural consequence, a great portion of power, which their very wisdom perpetually incited them to extend. the people knew nothing of kings and nobles, except in the way of injuries inflicted. the first ruled for, or more properly speaking against, the barons, and the barons only existed to brave the power of the kings, or to trample with their iron heels upon the neck of prostrate democracy. the latter had no friend but the clergy, and these, though they necessarily instilled the superstition from which they themselves were not exempt, yet taught the cheering doctrine that all men were equal in the sight of heaven. thus, while feudalism told them they had no rights in this world, religion told them they had every right in the next. with this consolation they were for the time content, for political ideas had as yet taken no root. when the clergy, for other reasons, recommended the crusade, the people joined in it with enthusiasm. the subject of palestine filled all minds; the pilgrims' tales of two centuries warmed every imagination; and when their friends, their guides, and their instructors preached a war so much in accordance with their own prejudices and modes of thinking, the enthusiasm rose into a frenzy. but while religion inspired the masses, another agent was at work upon the nobility. these were fierce and lawless; tainted with every vice, endowed with no virtue, and redeemed by one good quality alone, that of courage. the only religion they felt was the religion of fear. that and their overboiling turbulence alike combined to guide them to the holy land. most of them had sins enough to answer for. they lived with their hand against every man; and with no law but their own passions. they set at defiance the secular power of the clergy, but their hearts quailed at the awful denunciations of the pulpit with regard to the life to come. war was the business and the delight of their existence; and when they were promised remission of all their sins upon the easy condition of following their favourite bent, is it to be wondered at that they rushed with enthusiasm to the onslaught, and became as zealous in the service of the cross as the great majority of the people, who were swayed by more purely religious motives? fanaticism and the love of battle alike impelled them to the war, while the kings and princes of europe had still another motive for encouraging their zeal. policy opened their eyes to the great advantages which would accrue to themselves, by the absence of so many restless, intriguing, and blood-thirsty men, whose insolence it required more than the small power of royalty to restrain within due bounds. thus every motive was favourable to the crusades. every class of society was alike incited to join or encourage the war; kings and the clergy by policy, the nobles by turbulence and the love of dominion, and the people by religious zeal and the concentrated enthusiasm of two centuries, skilfully directed by their only instructors. it was in palestine itself that peter the hermit first conceived the grand idea of rousing the powers of christendom to rescue the christians of the east from the thraldom of the mussulmans, and the sepulchre of jesus from the rude hands of the infidel. the subject engrossed his whole mind. even in the visions of the night he was full of it. one dream made such an impression upon him, that he devoutly believed the saviour of the world himself appeared before him, and promised him aid and protection in his holy undertaking. if his zeal had ever wavered before, this was sufficient to fix it for ever. peter, after he had performed all the penances and duties of his pilgrimage, demanded an interview with simeon, the patriarch of the greek church at jerusalem. though the latter was a heretic in peter's eyes, yet he was still a christian, and felt as acutely as himself for the persecutions heaped by the turks upon the followers of jesus. the good prelate entered fully into his views, and, at his suggestion, wrote letters to the pope, and to the most influential monarchs of christendom, detailing the sorrows of the faithful, and urging them to take up arms in their defence. peter was not a laggard in the work. taking an affectionate farewell of the patriarch, he returned in all haste to italy. pope urban ii. occupied the apostolic chair. it was at that time far from being an easy seat. his predecessor, gregory, had bequeathed him a host of disputes with the emperor henry iv. of germany, and he had made philip i. of france his enemy by his strenuous opposition to an adulterous connexion formed by that monarch. so many dangers encompassed him about, that the vatican was no secure abode, and he had taken refuge in apulia, under the protection of the renowned robert guiscard. thither peter appears to have followed him, though in what spot their meeting took place is not stated with any precision by ancient chroniclers or modern historians. urban received him most kindly; read, with tears in his eyes, the epistle from the patriarch simeon, and listened to the eloquent story of the hermit with an attention which showed how deeply he sympathised with the woes of the christian church. enthusiasm is contagious, and the pope appears to have caught it instantly from one whose zeal was so unbounded. giving the hermit full powers, he sent him abroad to preach the holy war to all the nations and potentates of christendom. the hermit preached, and countless thousands answered to his call. france, germany, and italy started at his voice, and prepared for the deliverance of zion. one of the early historians of the crusade, who was himself an eye-witness of the rapture of europe, [guibert de nogent] describes the personal appearance of the hermit at this time. he says, that there appeared to be something of divine in every thing which he said or did. the people so highly reverenced him, that they plucked hairs from the mane of his mule, that they might keep them as relics. while preaching, he wore in general a woollen tunic, with a dark-coloured mantle, which fell down to his heels. his arms and feet were bare, and he ate neither flesh nor bread, supporting himself chiefly upon fish and wine. "he set out," says the chronicler, "from whence i know not; but we saw him passing through the towns and villages, preaching every where, and the people surrounding him in crowds, loading him with offerings, and celebrating his sanctity with such great praises that i never remember to have seen such honours bestowed upon any one." thus he went on, untired, inflexible, and full of devotion, communicating his own madness to his hearers, until europe was stirred from its very depths. while the hermit was appealing with such signal success to the people, the pope appealed with as much success to those who were to become the chiefs and leaders of the expedition. his first step was to call a council at placentia, in the autumn of the year . here, in the assembly of the clergy, the pope debated the grand scheme, and gave audience to emissaries who had been sent from constantinople by the emperor of the east to detail the progress made by the turks in their design of establishing themselves in europe. the clergy were of course unanimous in support of the crusade, and the council separated, each individual member of it being empowered to preach it to his people. but italy could not be expected to furnish all the aid required; and the pope crossed the alps to inspire the fierce and powerful nobility and chivalrous population of gaul. his boldness in entering the territory, and placing himself in the power of his foe, king philip of france, is not the least surprising feature of his mission. some have imagined that cool policy alone actuated him, while others assert, that it was mere zeal, as warm and as blind as that of peter the hermit. the latter opinion seems to be the true one. society did not calculate the consequences of what it was doing. every man seemed to act from impulse only; and the pope, in throwing himself into the heart of france, acted as much from impulse as the thousands who responded to his call. a council was eventually summoned to meet him at clermont, in auvergne, to consider the state of the church, reform abuses, and, above all, make preparations for the war. it was in the midst of an extremely cold winter, and the ground was covered with snow. during seven days the council sat with closed doors, while immense crowds from all parts of france flocked into the town, in expectation that the pope himself would address the people. all the towns and villages for miles around were filled with the multitude; even the fields were encumbered with people, who, unable to procure lodging, pitched their tents under the trees and by the way-side. all the neighbourhood presented the appearance of a vast camp. during the seven days' deliberation, a sentence of excommunication was passed upon king philip for adultery with bertrade de montfort, countess of anjou, and for disobedience to the supreme authority of the apostolic see. this bold step impressed the people with reverence for so stern a church, which in the discharge of its duty showed itself no respecter of persons. their love and their fear were alike increased, and they were prepared to listen with more intense devotion to the preaching of so righteous and inflexible a pastor. the great square before the cathedral church of clermont became every instant more densely crowded as the hour drew nigh when the pope was to address the populace. issuing from the church in his frill canonicals, surrounded by his cardinals and bishops in all the splendour of romish ecclesiastical costume, the pope stood before the populace on a high scaffolding erected for the occasion, and covered with scarlet cloth. a brilliant array of bishops and cardinals surrounded him; and among them, humbler in rank, but more important in the world's eye, the hermit peter, dressed in his simple and austere habiliments. historians differ as to whether or not peter addressed the crowd, but as all agree that he was present, it seems reasonable to suppose that he spoke. but it was the oration of the pope that was most important. as he lifted up his hands to ensure attention, every voice immediately became still. he began by detailing the miseries endured by their brethren in the holy land; how the plains of palestine were desolated by the outrageous heathen, who with the sword and the firebrand carried wailing into the dwellings and flames into the possessions of the faithful; how christian wives and daughters were defiled by pagan lust; how the altars of the true god were desecrated, and the relics of the saints trodden under foot. "you," continued the eloquent pontiff, (and urban the second was one of the most eloquent men of the day,) "you, who hear me, and who have received the true faith, and been endowed by god with power, and strength, and greatness of soul,--whose ancestors have been the prop of christendom, and whose kings have put a barrier against the progress of the infidel,--i call upon you to wipe off these impurities from the face of the earth, and lift your oppressed fellow-christians from the depths into which they have been trampled. the sepulchre of christ is possessed by the heathen, the sacred places dishonoured by their vileness. oh, brave knights and faithful people! offspring of invincible fathers! ye will not degenerate from your ancient renown. ye will not be restrained from embarking in this great cause by the tender ties of wife or little ones, but will remember the words of the saviour of the world himself, 'whosoever loves father and mother more than me is not worthy of me. whosoever shall abandon for my name's sake his house, or his brethren, or his sisters, or his father, or his mother, or his wife, or his children, or his lands, shall receive a hundredfold, and shall inherit eternal life.'" the warmth of the pontiff communicated itself to the crowd, and the enthusiasm of the people broke out several times ere he concluded his address. he went on to pourtray, not only the spiritual but the temporal advantages, that should accrue to those who took up arms in the service of the cross. palestine was, he said, a land flowing with milk and honey, and precious in the sight of god, as the scene of the grand events which had saved mankind. that land, he promised, should be divided among them. moreover, they should have full pardon for all their offences, either against god or man. "go, then," he added, "in expiation of your sins; and go assured, that after this world shall have passed away, imperishable glory shall be yours in the world which is to come." the enthusiasm was no longer to be restrained, and loud shouts interrupted the speaker; the people exclaiming as if with one voice, "dieu le veult! dieu le veult!" with great presence of mind urban took advantage of the outburst, and as soon as silence was obtained, continued: "dear brethren, to-day is shown forth in you that which the lord has said by his evangelist, 'when two or three are gathered together in my name, there will i be in the midst of them to bless them.' if the lord god had not been in your souls, you would not all have pronounced the same words; or rather god himself pronounced them by your lips, for it was he that put them in your hearts. be they, then, your war-cry in the combat, for those words came forth from god. let the army of the lord when it rushes upon his enemies shout but that one cry, 'dieu le veult! dieu le veult!' let whoever is inclined to devote himself to this holy cause make it a solemn engagement, and bear the cross of the lord either on his breast or his brow till he set out, and let him who is ready to begin his march place the holy emblem on his shoulders, in memory of that precept of our saviour, 'he who does not take up his cross and follow me is not worthy of me.'" the news of this council spread to the remotest parts of europe in an incredibly short space of time. long before the fleetest horseman could have brought the intelligence it was known by the people in distant provinces, a fact which was considered as nothing less than supernatural. but the subject was in everybody's mouth, and the minds of men were prepared for the result. the enthusiastic only asserted what they wished, and the event tallied with their prediction. this was, however, quite enough in those days for a miracle, and as a miracle every one regarded it. for several months after the council of clermont, france and germany presented a singular spectacle. the pious, the fanatic, the needy, the dissolute, the young and the old, even women and children, and the halt and lame, enrolled themselves by hundreds. in every village the clergy were busied in keeping up the excitement, promising eternal rewards to those who assumed the red cross, and fulminating the most awful denunciations against all the worldly-minded who refused or even hesitated. every debtor who joined the crusade was freed by the papal edict from the claims of his creditors; outlaws of every grade were made equal with the honest upon the same conditions. the property of those who went was placed under the protection of the church, and st. paul and st. peter themselves were believed to descend from their high abode, to watch over the chattels of the absent pilgrims. signs and portents were seen in the air to increase the fervour of the multitude. an aurora-borealis of unusual brilliancy appeared, and thousands of the crusaders came out to gaze upon it, prostrating themselves upon the earth in adoration. it was thought to be a sure prognostic of the interposition of the most high; and a representation of his armies fighting with and overthrowing the infidels. reports of wonders were everywhere rife. a monk had seen two gigantic warriors on horseback, the one representing a christian and the other a turk, fighting in the sky with flaming swords, the christian of course overcoming the paynim. myriads of stars were said to have fallen from heaven, each representing the fall of a pagan foe. it was believed at the same time that the emperor charlemagne would rise from the grave, and lead on to victory the embattled armies of the lord. a singular feature of the popular madness was the enthusiasm of the women. everywhere they encouraged their lovers and husbands to forsake all things for the holy war. many of them burned the sign of the cross upon their breasts and arms, and coloured the wound with a red dye, as a lasting memorial of their zeal. others, still more zealous, impressed the mark by the same means upon the tender limbs of young children and infants at the breast. guibert de nogent tells of a monk who made a large incision upon his forehead in the form of a cross, which he coloured with some powerful ingredient, telling the people that an angel had done it when he was asleep. this monk appears to have been more of a rogue than a fool, for he contrived to fare more sumptuously than any of his brother pilgrims, upon the strength of his sanctity. the crusaders everywhere gave him presents of food and money, and he became quite fat ere he arrived at jerusalem, notwithstanding the fatigues of the way. if he had acknowledged in the first place that he had made the wound himself, he would not have been thought more holy than his fellows; but the story of the angel was a clincher. all those who had property of any description rushed to the mart to change it into hard cash. lands and houses could be had for a quarter of their value, while arms and accoutrements of war rose in the same proportion. corn, which had been excessively dear in anticipation of a year of scarcity, suddenly became plentiful; and such was the diminution in the value of provisions, that seven sheep were sold for five deniers.[guibert de nogent] the nobles mortgaged their estates for mere trifles to jews and unbelievers, or conferred charters of immunity upon the towns and communes within their fiefs, for sums which, a few years previously, they would have rejected with disdain. the farmer endeavoured to sell his plough, and the artisan his tools, to purchase a sword for the deliverance of jerusalem. women disposed of their trinkets for the same purpose. during the spring and summer of this year ( ) the roads teemed with crusaders, all hastening to the towns and villages appointed as the rendezvous of the district. some were on horseback, some in carts, and some came down the rivers in boats and rafts, bringing their wives and children, all eager to go to jerusalem. very few knew where jerusalem was. some thought it fifty thousand miles away, while others imagined that it was but a month's journey, while at sight of every town or castle, the children exclaimed, "is that jerusalem? is that the city?" [guibert de nogent] parties of knights and nobles might be seen travelling eastward, and amusing themselves as they went with the knightly diversion of hawking to lighten the fatigues of the way. guibert de nogent, who did not write from hearsay, but from actual observation, says, the enthusiasm was so contagious, that when any one heard the orders of the pontiff, he went instantly to solicit his neighbours and friends to join with him in "the way of god," for so they called the proposed expedition. the counts palatine were full of the desire to undertake the journey, and all the inferior knights were animated with the same zeal. even the poor caught the flame so ardently, that no one paused to think of the inadequacy of his means, or to consider whether he ought to yield up his house and his vine and his fields. each one set about selling his property, at as low a price as if he had been held in some horrible captivity, and sought to pay his ransom without loss of time. those who had not determined upon the journey, joked and laughed at those who were thus disposing of their goods at such ruinous prices, prophesying that the expedition would be miserable and their return worse. but they held this language only for a day. the next, they were suddenly seized with the same frenzy as the rest. those who had been loudest in their jeers gave up all their property for a few crowns, and set out with those they had so laughed at a few hours before. in most cases the laugh was turned against them, for when it became known that a man was hesitating, his more zealous neighbours sent him a present of a knitting needle or a distaff, to show their contempt of him. there was no resisting this, so that the fear of ridicule contributed its fair contingent to the armies of the lord. another effect of the crusade was, the religious obedience with which it inspired the people and the nobility for that singular institution "the truce of god." at the commencement of the eleventh century, the clergy of france, sympathizing for the woes of the people, but unable to diminish them, by repressing the rapacity and insolence of the feudal chiefs, endeavoured to promote universal good-will by the promulgation of the famous "peace of god." all who conformed to it bound themselves by oath not to take revenge for any injury, not to enjoy the fruits of property usurped from others, nor to use deadly weapons; in reward of which they would receive remission of all their sins. however benevolent the intention of this "peace," it led to nothing but perjury, and violence reigned as uncontrolled as before. in the year another attempt was made to soften the angry passions of the semi-barbarous chiefs, and the "truce of god" was solemnly proclaimed. the truce lasted from the wednesday evening to the monday morning of every week, in which interval it was strictly forbidden to recur to violence on any pretext, or to seek revenge for any injury. it was impossible to civilize men by these means; few even promised to become peaceable for so unconscionable a period as five days a week; or, if they did, they made ample amends on the two days left open to them. the truce was afterwards shortened from the saturday evening to the monday morning; but little or no diminution of violence and bloodshed was the consequence. at the council of clermont, urban ii. again solemnly proclaimed the truce. so strong was the religious feeling, that every one hastened to obey. all minor passions disappeared before the grand passion of crusading; the noble ceased to oppress, the robber to plunder, and the people to complain; but one idea was in all hearts, and there seemed to be no room for any other. the encampments of these heterogeneous multitudes offered a singular aspect. those vassals who ranged themselves under the banners of their lord, erected tents around his castle; while those who undertook the war on their own account, constructed booths and huts in the neighbourhood of the towns or villages, preparatory to their joining some popular leader of the expedition. the meadows of france were covered with tents. as the belligerents were to have remission of all their sins on their arrival in palestine, hundreds of them gave themselves up to the most unbounded licentiousness: the courtezan, with the red cross upon her shoulders, plied her shameless trade with sensual pilgrims, without scruple on either side: the lover of good cheer gave loose rein to his appetite, and drunkenness and debauchery flourished. their zeal in the service of the lord was to wipe out all faults and follies, and they had the same surety of salvation as the rigid anchorite. this reasoning had charms for the ignorant, and the sounds of lewd revelry and the voice of prayer rose at the same instant from the camp. it is now time to speak of the leaders of the expedition. great multitudes ranged themselves under the command of peter the hermit, whom, as the originator, they considered the most appropriate leader of the war. others joined the banner of a bold adventurer, whom history has dignified with no other name than that of gautier sans avoir, or walter the pennyless, but who is represented as having been of noble family, and well skilled in the art of war. a third multitude from germany flocked around the standard of a monk, named gottschalk, of whom nothing is known, except that he was a fanatic of the deepest dye. all these bands, which together are said to have amounted to three hundred thousand men, women, and children, were composed of the vilest rascality of europe. without discipline, principle, or true courage, they rushed through the nations like a pestilence, spreading terror and death wherever they went. the first multitude that set forth was led by walter the pennyless early in the spring of , within a very few months after the council of clermont. each man of that irregular host aspired to be his own master: like their nominal leader, each was poor to penury, and trusted for subsistence on his journey to the chances of the road. rolling through germany like a tide, they entered hungary, where, at first, they were received with some degree of kindness by the people. the latter had not yet caught sufficient of the fire of enthusiasm to join the crusade themselves, but were willing enough to forward the cause by aiding those embarked in it. unfortunately, this good understanding did not last long. the swarm were not contented with food for their necessities, but craved for luxuries also: they attacked and plundered the dwellings of the country people, and thought nothing of murder where resistance was offered. on their arrival before semlin, the outraged hungarians collected in large numbers, and, attacking the rear of the crusading host, slew a great many of the stragglers, and, taking away their arms and crosses, affixed them as trophies to the walls of the city. walter appears to have been in no mood or condition to make reprisals; for his army, destructive as a plague of locusts when plunder urged them on, were useless against any regular attack from a determined enemy. their rear continued to be thus harassed by the wrathful hungarians until they were fairly out of their territory. on his entrance into bulgaria, walter met with no better fate; the cities and towns refused to let him pass; the villages denied him provisions; and the citizens and country people uniting, slaughtered his followers by hundreds. the progress of the army was more like a retreat than an advance; but as it was impossible to stand still, walter continued his course till he arrived at constantinople, with a force which famine and the sword had diminished to one-third of its original number. the greater multitude, led by the enthusiastic hermit, followed close upon his heels, with a bulky train of baggage, and women and children, sufficient to form a host of themselves. if it were possible to find a rabble more vile than the army of walter the pennyless it was that led by peter the hermit. being better provided with means, they were not reduced to the necessity of pillage in their progress through hungary; and had they taken any other route than that which led through semlin, might perhaps have traversed the country without molestation. on their arrival before that city, their fury was raised at seeing the arms and red crosses of their predecessors hanging as trophies over the gates. their pent-up ferocity exploded at the sight. the city was tumultuously attacked, and the besiegers entering, not by dint of bravery, but of superior numbers, it was given up to all the horrors which follow when victory, brutality, and licentiousness are linked together. every evil passion was allowed to revel with impunity, and revenge, lust, and avarice,--each had its hundred victims in unhappy semlin. any maniac can kindle a conflagration, but it requires many wise men to put it out. peter the hermit had blown the popular fury into a flame, but to cool it again was beyond his power. his followers rioted unrestrained, until the fear of retaliation warned them to desist. when the king of hungary was informed of the disasters of semlin, he marched with a sufficient force to chastise the hermit, who at the news broke up his camp and retreated towards the morava, a broad and rapid stream that joins the danube a few miles to the eastward of belgrade. here a party of indignant bulgarians awaited him, and so harassed him as to make the passage of the river a task both of difficulty and danger. great numbers of his infatuated followers perished in the waters, and many fell under the swords of the bulgarians. the ancient chronicles do not mention the amount of the hermit's loss at this passage, but represent it in general terms as very great. at nissa the duke of bulgaria fortified himself, in fear of an assault; but peter, having learned a little wisdom from experience, thought it best to avoid hostilities. he passed three nights in quietness under the walls, and the duke, not wishing to exasperate unnecessarily so fierce and rapacious a host, allowed the townspeople to supply them with provisions. peter took his departure peaceably on the following morning, but some german vagabonds falling behind the main body of the army, set fire to the mills and house of a bulgarian, with whom, it appears, they had had some dispute on the previous evening. the citizens of nissa, who had throughout mistrusted the crusaders, and were prepared for the worst, sallied out immediately, and took signal vengeance. the spoilers were cut to pieces, and the townspeople pursuing the hermit, captured all the women and children who had lagged in the rear, and a great quantity of baggage. peter hereupon turned round and marched back to nissa, to demand explanation of the duke of bulgaria. the latter fairly stated the provocation given, and the hermit could urge nothing in palliation of so gross an outrage. a negotiation was entered into which promised to be successful, and the bulgarians were about to deliver up the women and children when a party of undisciplined crusaders, acting solely upon their own suggestion, endeavoured to scale the walls and seize upon the town. peter in vain exerted his authority; the confusion became general, and after a short but desperate battle, the crusaders threw down their arms and fled in all directions. their vast host was completely routed, the slaughter being so great among them as to be counted, not by hundreds, but by thousands. it is said that the hermit fled from this fatal field to a forest a few miles from nissa, abandoned by every human creature. it would be curious to know whether, after so dire a reverse, . . . . . . . . . . "his enpierced breast sharp sorrow did in thousand pieces rive," or whether his fiery zeal still rose superior to calamity, and pictured the eventual triumph of his cause. he, so lately the leader of a hundred thousand men, was now a solitary skulker in the forests, liable at every instant to be discovered by some pursuing bulgarian, and cut off in mid career. chance at last brought him within sight of an eminence where two or three of his bravest knights had collected five hundred of the stragglers. these gladly received the hermit, and a consultation having taken place, it was resolved to gather together the scattered remnants of the army. fires were lighted on the hill, and scouts sent out in all directions for the fugitives. horns were sounded at intervals to make known that friends were near, and before nightfall the hermit saw himself at the head of seven thousand men. during the succeeding day he was joined by twenty thousand more, and with this miserable remnant of his force he pursued his route towards constantinople. the bones of the rest mouldered in the forests of bulgaria. on his arrival at constantinople, where he found walter the pennyless awaiting him, he was hospitably received by the emperor alexius. it might have been expected that the sad reverses they had undergone would have taught his followers common prudence; but, unhappily for them, their turbulence and love of plunder were not to be restrained. although they were surrounded by friends, by whom all their wants were liberally supplied, they could not refrain from rapine. in vain the hermit exhorted them to tranquillity; he possessed no more power over them, in subduing their passions, than the obscurest soldier of the host, they set fire to several public buildings in constantinople, out of pure mischief, and stripped the lead from the roofs of the churches, which, they afterwards sold for old metal in the purlieus of the city. from this time may be dated the aversion which the emperor alexius entertained for the crusaders, and which was afterwards manifested in all his actions, even when he had to deal with the chivalrous and more honourable armies which arrived after the hermit. he seems to have imagined that the turks themselves were enemies less formidable to his power than these outpourings of the refuse of europe: he soon found a pretext to hurry them into asia minor. peter crossed the bosphorus with walter, but the excesses of his followers were such, that, despairing of accomplishing any good end by remaining at their head, he left them to themselves, and returned to constantinople, on the pretext of making arrangements with the government of alexius for a proper supply of provisions. the crusaders, forgetting that they were in the enemy's country, and that union, above all things, was desirable, gave themselves up to dissensions. violent disputes arose between the lombards and normans, commanded by walter the pennyless, and the franks and germans, led out by peter. the latter separated themselves from the former, and, choosing for their leader one reinaldo, or reinhold, marched forward, and took possession of the fortress of exorogorgon. the sultan solimaun was on the alert, with a superior force. a party of crusaders, which had been detached from the fort, and stationed at a little distance as an ambuscade, were surprised and cut to pieces, and exorogorgon invested on all sides. the siege was protracted for eight days, during which the christians suffered the most acute agony from the want of water. it is hard to say how long the hope of succour or the energy of despair would have enabled them to hold out: their treacherous leader cut the matter short by renouncing the christian faith, and delivering up the fort into the hands of the sultan. he was followed by two or three of his officers; all the rest, refusing to become mahometans, were ruthlessly put to the sword. thus perished the last wretched remnant of the vast multitude which had traversed europe with peter the hermit. walter the pennyless and his multitude met as miserable a fate. on the news of the disasters of exorogorgon, they demanded to be led instantly against the turks. walter, who only wanted good soldiers to have made a good general, was cooler of head, and saw all the dangers of such a step. his force was wholly insufficient to make any decisive movement in a country where the enemy was so much superior, and where, in case of defeat, he had no secure position to fall back upon; and he therefore expressed his opinion against advancing until the arrival of reinforcements. this prudent counsel found no favour: the army loudly expressed their dissatisfaction at their chief, and prepared to march forward without him. upon this, the brave walter put himself at their head, and rushed to destruction. proceeding towards nice, the modern isnik, he was intercepted by the army of the sultan: a fierce battle ensued in which the turks made fearful havoc; out of twenty-five thousand christians, twenty-two thousand were slain, and among them gautier himself, who fell pierced by seven mortal wounds. the remaining three thousand retreated upon civitot, where they intrenched themselves. disgusted as was peter the hermit at the excesses of the multitude, who, at his call, had forsaken europe, his heart was moved with grief and pity at their misfortunes. all his former zeal revived: casting himself at the feet of the emperor alexius, he implored him, with tears in his eyes, to send relief to the few survivors at civitot. the emperor consented, and a force was sent, which arrived just in time to save them from destruction. the turks had beleaguered the place, and the crusaders were reduced to the last extremity. negotiations were entered into, and the last three thousand were conducted in safety to constantinople. alexius had suffered too much by their former excesses to be very desirous of retaining them in his capital: he therefore caused them all to be disarmed, and, furnishing each with a sum of money, he sent them back to their own country. while these events were taking place, fresh hordes were issuing from the woods and wilds of germany, all bent for the holy land. they were commanded by a fanatical priest, named gottschalk, who, like gautier and peter the hermit, took his way through hungary. history is extremely meagre in her details of the conduct and fate of this host, which amounted to at least one hundred thousand men. robbery and murder seem to have journeyed with them, and the poor hungarians were rendered almost desperate by their numbers and rapacity. karloman, the king of the country, made a bold effort to get rid of them; for the resentment of his people had arrived at such a height, that nothing short of the total extermination of the crusaders would satisfy them. gottschalk had to pay the penalty, not only for the ravages of his own bands, but for those of the swarms that had come before him. he and his army were induced, by some means or other, to lay down their arms: the savage hungarians, seeing them thus defenceless, set upon them, and slaughtered them in great numbers. how many escaped their arrows, we are not informed; but not one of them reached palestine. other swarms, under nameless leaders, issued from germany and france, more brutal and more frantic than any that had preceded them. their fanaticism surpassed by far the wildest freaks of the followers of the hermit. in bands, varying in numbers from one to five thousand, they traversed the country in all directions, bent upon plunder and massacre. they wore the symbol of the crusade upon their shoulders, but inveighed against the folly of proceeding to the holy land to destroy the turks, while they left behind them so many jews, the still more inveterate enemies of christ. they swore fierce vengeance against this unhappy race, and murdered all the hebrews they could lay their hands on, first subjecting them to the most horrible mutilation. according to the testimony of albert aquensis, they lived among each other in the most shameless profligacy, and their vice was only exceeded by their superstition. whenever they were in search of jews, they were preceded by a goose and goat, which they believed to be holy, and animated with divine power to discover the retreats of the unbelievers. in germany alone they slaughtered more than a thousand jews, notwithstanding all the efforts of the clergy to save them. so dreadful was the cruelty of their tormentors, that great numbers of jews committed self-destruction to avoid falling into their hands. again it fell to the lot of the hungarians to deliver europe from these pests. when there were no more jews to murder, the bands collected in one body, and took the old route to the holy land, a route stained with the blood of three hundred thousand who had gone before, and destined also to receive theirs. the number of these swarms has never been stated; but so many of them perished in hungary, that contemporary writers, despairing of giving any adequate idea of their multitudes, state that the fields were actually heaped with their corpses, and that for miles in its course the waters of the danube were dyed with their blood. it was at mersburg, on the danube, that the greatest slaughter took place,--a slaughter so great as to amount almost to extermination. the hungarians for a while disputed the passage of the river, but the crusaders forced their way across, and attacking the city with the blind courage of madness, succeeded in making a breach in the walls. at this moment of victory an unaccountable fear came over them. throwing down their arms they fled panic-stricken, no one knew why, and no one knew whither. the hungarians followed, sword in hand, and cut them down without remorse, and in such numbers, that the stream of the danube is said to have been choked up by their unburied bodies. this was the worst paroxysm of the madness of europe; and this passed, her chivalry stepped upon the scene. men of cool heads, mature plans, and invincible courage stood forward to lead and direct the grand movement of europe upon asia. it is upon these men that romance has lavished her most admiring epithets, leaving to the condemnation of history the vileness and brutality of those who went before. of these leaders the most distinguished were godfrey of bouillon duke of lorraine, and raymond count of toulouse. four other chiefs of the royal blood of europe also assumed the cross, and led each his army to the holy land: hugh, count of vermandois, brother of the king of france; robert, duke of normandy, the elder brother of william rufus; robert count of flanders, and boemund prince of tarentum, eldest son of the celebrated robert guiscard. these men were all tinged with the fanaticism of the age, but none of them acted entirely from religious motives. they were neither utterly reckless like gautier sans avoir, crazy like peter the hermit, nor brutal like gottschalk the monk, but possessed each of these qualities in a milder form; their valour being tempered by caution, their religious zeal by worldly views, and their ferocity by the spirit of chivalry. they saw whither led the torrent of the public will; and it being neither their wish nor their interest to stem it, they allowed themselves to be carried with it, in the hope that it would lead them at last to a haven of aggrandizement. around them congregated many minor chiefs, the flower of the nobility of france and italy, with some few from germany, england, and spain. it was wisely conjectured that armies so numerous would find a difficulty in procuring provisions if they all journeyed by the same road. they, therefore, resolved to separate, godfrey de bouillon proceeding through hungary and bulgaria, the count of toulouse through lombardy and dalmatia, and the other leaders through apulia to constantinople, where the several divisions were to reunite. the forces under these leaders have been variously estimated. the princess anna comnena talks of them as having been as numerous as the sands on the sea-shore, or the stars in the firmament. fulcher of chartres is more satisfactory, and exaggerates less magnificently, when he states, that all the divisions, when they had sat down before nice in bithynia, amounted to one hundred thousand horsemen, and six hundred thousand men on foot, exclusive of the priests, women and children. gibbon is of opinion that this amount is exaggerated; but thinks the actual numbers did not fall very far short of the calculation. the princess anna afterwards gives the number of those under godfrey of bouillon as eighty thousand foot and horse; and supposing that each of the other chiefs led an army as numerous, the total would be near half a million. this must be over rather than under the mark, as the army of godfrey of bouillon was confessedly the largest when it set out, and suffered less by the way than any other. the count of vermandois was the first who set foot on the grecian territory. on his arrival at durazzo he was received with every mark of respect and courtesy by the agents of the emperor, and his followers were abundantly supplied with provisions. suddenly however, and without cause assigned, the count was arrested by order of the emperor alexius, and conveyed a close prisoner to constantinople. various motives have been assigned by different authors as having induced the emperor to this treacherous and imprudent proceeding. by every writer he has been condemned for so flagrant a breach of hospitality and justice. the most probable reason for his conduct appears to be that suggested by guibert of nogent, who states that alexius, fearful of the designs of the crusaders upon his throne, resorted to this extremity in order afterwards to force the count to take the oath of allegiance to him, as the price of his liberation. the example of a prince so eminent as the brother of the king of france, would, he thought, be readily followed by the other chiefs of the crusade. in the result he was wofully disappointed, as every man deserves to be who commits positive evil that doubtful good may ensue. but this line of policy accorded well enough with the narrowmindedness of the emperor, who, in the enervating atmosphere of his highly civilized and luxurious court, dreaded the influx of the hardy and ambitious warriors of the west, and strove to nibble away by unworthy means, the power which he had not energy enough to confront. if danger to himself had existed from the residence of the chiefs in his dominions, he might easily have averted it, by the simple means of placing himself at the head of the european movement, and directing its energies to their avowed object, the conquest of the holy land. but the emperor, instead of being, as he might have been, the lord and leader of the crusades, which he had himself aided in no inconsiderable degree to suscitate by his embassies to the pope, became the slave of men who hated and despised him. no doubt the barbarous excesses of the followers of gautier and peter the hermit made him look upon the whole body of them with disgust, but it was the disgust of a little mind, which is glad of any excuse to palliate or justify its own irresolution and love of ease. godfrey of bouillon traversed hungary in the most quiet and orderly manner. on his arrival at mersburg he found the country strewed with the mangled corpses of the jew-killers, and demanded of the king of hungary for what reason his people had set upon them. the latter detailed the atrocities they had committed, and made it so evident to godfrey that the hungarians had only acted in self-defence, that the high-minded leader declared himself satisfied and passed on, without giving or receiving molestation. on his arrival at philippopoli, he was informed for the first time of the imprisonment of the count of vermandois. he immediately sent messengers to the emperor, demanding the count's release, and threatening, in case of refusal, to lay waste the country with fire and sword. after waiting a day at philippopoli he marched on to adrianople, where he was met by his messengers returning with the emperor's refusal. godfrey, the bravest and most determined of the leaders of the crusade, was not a man to swerve from his word, and the country was given up to pillage. alexius here committed another blunder. no sooner did he learn from dire experience that the crusader was not an utterer of idle threats, than he consented to the release of the prisoner. as he had been unjust in the first instance, he became cowardly in the second, and taught his enemies (for so the crusaders were forced to consider themselves) a lesson which they took care to remember to his cost, that they could hope nothing from his sense of justice, but every thing from his fears. godfrey remained encamped for several weeks in the neighbourhood of constantinople, to the great annoyance of alexius, who sought by every means to extort from him the homage he had extorted from vermandois. sometimes he acted as if at open and declared war with the crusaders, and sent his troops against them. sometimes he refused to supply them with food, and ordered the markets to be shut against them, while at other times he was all for peace and goodwill, and sent costly presents to godfrey. the honest, straightforward crusader was at last so wearied by his false kindness, and so pestered by his attacks, that, allowing his indignation to get the better of his judgment, he gave up the country around constantinople to be plundered by his soldiers. for six days the flames of the farm-houses around struck terror into the heart of alexius, but as godfrey anticipated they convinced him of his error. fearing that constantinople itself would be the next object of attack, he sent messengers to demand an interview with godfrey, offering at the same time to leave his son as a hostage for his good faith. godfrey agreed to meet him, and, whether to put an end to these useless dissensions, or for some other unexplained reason, he rendered homage to alexius as his liege lord. he was thereupon loaded with honours, and, according to a singular custom of that age, underwent the ceremony of the "adoption of honour," as son to the emperor. godfrey, and his brother baudouin de bouillon, conducted themselves with proper courtesy on this occasion, but were not able to restrain the insolence of their followers, who did not conceive themselves bound to keep any terms with a man so insincere as he had shown himself. one barbarous chieftain, count robert of paris, carried his insolence so far as to seat himself upon the throne, an insult which alexius merely resented with a sneer, but which did not induce him to look with less mistrust upon the hordes that were still advancing. it is impossible, notwithstanding his treachery, to avoid feeling some compassion for the emperor, whose life at this time was rendered one long scene of misery by the presumption of the crusaders, and his not altogether groundless fears of the evil they might inflict upon him, should any untoward circumstance force the current of their ambition to the conquest of his empire. his daughter, anna comnena, feelingly deplores his state of life at this time, and a learned german, [m. wilken's geschichte der kreuzzuge.] in a recent work, describes it, on the authority of the princess, in the following manner:-- "to avoid all occasion of offence to the crusaders, alexius complied with all their whims, and their (on many occasions) unreasonable demands, even at the expense of great bodily exertion, at a time when he was suffering severely under the gout, which eventually brought him to his grave. no crusader who desired an interview with him was refused access: he listened with the utmost patience to the long-winded harangues which their loquacity or zeal continually wearied him with: he endured, without expressing any impatience, the unbecoming and haughty language which they permitted themselves to employ towards him, and severely reprimanded his officers when they undertook to defend the dignity of the imperial station from these rude assaults; for he trembled with apprehension at the slightest disputes, lest they might become the occasion of greater evil. though the counts often appeared before him with trains altogether unsuitable to their dignity and to his--sometimes with an entire troop, which completely filled the royal apartment--the emperor held his peace. he listened to them at all hours; he often seated himself on his throne at day-break to attend to their wishes and requests, and the evening twilight saw him still in the same place. very frequently he could not snatch time to refresh himself with meat and drink. during many nights he could not obtain any repose, and was obliged to indulge in an unrefreshing sleep upon his throne, with his head resting on his hands. even this slumber was continually disturbed by the appearance and harangues of some newly-arrived rude knights. when all the courtiers, wearied out by the efforts of the day and by night-watching, could no longer keep themselves on their feet, and sank down exhausted--some upon benches and others on the floor--alexius still rallied his strength to listen with seeming attention to the wearisome chatter of the latins, that they might have no occasion or pretext for discontent. in such a state of fear and anxiety, how could alexius comport himself with dignity and like an emperor?" alexius, however, had himself to blame, in a great measure, for the indignities he suffered: owing to his insincerity, the crusaders mistrusted him so much, that it became at last a common saying, that the turks and saracens were not such inveterate foes to the western or latin christians as the emperor alexius and the greeks.[wilken] it would be needless in this sketch, which does not profess to be so much a history of the crusades as of the madness of europe, from which they sprang, to detail the various acts of bribery and intimidation, cajolery and hostility, by which alexius contrived to make each of the leaders in succession, as they arrived, take the oath of allegiance to him as their suzerain. one way or another he exacted from each the barren homage on which he had set his heart, and they were then allowed to proceed into asia minor. one only, raymond de st. gilles, count of toulouse, obstinately refused the homage. their residence in constantinople was productive of no good to the armies of the cross. bickerings and contentions on the one hand, and the influence of a depraved and luxurious court on the other, destroyed the elasticity of their spirits, and cooled the first ardour of their enthusiasm. at one time the army of the count of toulouse was on the point of disbanding itself; and, had not their leader energetically removed them across the bosphorus, this would have been the result. once in asia, their spirits in some degree revived, and the presence of danger and difficulty nerved them to the work they had undertaken. the first operation of the war was the siege of nice, to gain possession of which all their efforts were directed. godfrey of bouillon and the count of vermandois were joined under its walls by each host in succession, as it left constantinople. among the celebrated crusaders who fought at this siege, we find, besides the leaders already mentioned, the brave and generous tancred, whose name and fame have been immortalized in the gerusalemme liberata, the valorous bishop of puy, baldwin, afterwards king of jerusalem, and peter the hermit, now an almost solitary soldier, shorn of all the power and influence he had formerly possessed. kilij aslaun, the sultan of roum, and chief of the seljukian turks, whose deeds, surrounded by the false halo of romance, are familiar to the readers of tasso, under the name of soliman, marched to defend this city, but was defeated after several obstinate engagements, in which the christians showed a degree of heroism that quite astonished him. the turkish chief had expected to find a wild undisciplined multitude, like that under peter the hermit, without leaders capable of enforcing obedience; instead of which he found the most experienced leaders of the age at the head of armies that had just fanaticism enough to be ferocious, but not enough to render them ungovernable. in these engagements, many hundreds fell on both sides; and on both sides the most revolting barbarity was practised: the crusaders cut off the heads of the fallen mussulmans, and sent them in paniers to constantinople, as trophies of their victory. after the temporary defeat of kilij aslaun, the siege of nice was carried on with redoubled vigour. the turks defended themselves with the greatest obstinacy, and discharged showers of poisoned arrows upon the crusaders. when any unfortunate wretch was killed under the walls, they let down iron hooks from above, and drew the body up, which, after stripping and mutilating, they threw back again at the besiegers. the latter were well supplied with provisions, and for six-and-thirty days the siege continued without any relaxation of the efforts on either side. many tales are told of the almost superhuman heroism of the christian leaders--how one man put a thousand to flight; and how the arrows of the faithful never missed their mark. one anecdote of godfrey of bouillon, related by albert of aix, is worth recording, not only as showing the high opinion entertained of his valour, but as showing the contagious credulity of the armies--a credulity which as often led them to the very verge of defeat, as it incited them to victory. one turk, of gigantic stature, took his station day by day on the battlements of nice, and, bearing an enormous bow, committed great havoc among the christian host. not a shaft he sped, but bore death upon its point; and, although the crusaders aimed repeatedly at his breast, and he stood in the most exposed position, their arrows fell harmless at his feet. he seemed to be invulnerable to attack; and a report was soon spread abroad, that he was no other than the arch fiend himself, and that mortal hand could not prevail against him. godfrey of bouillon, who had no faith in the supernatural character of the mussulman, determined, if possible, to put an end to the dismay which was rapidly paralyzing the exertions of his best soldiers. taking a huge cross-bow, he stood forward in front of the army, to try the steadiness of his hand against the much-dreaded archer: the shaft was aimed directly at his heart, and took fatal effect. the moslem fell amid the groans of the besieged, and the shouts of deus adjuva! deus adjuva! the war-cry of the besiegers. at last the crusaders imagined that they had overcome all obstacles, and were preparing to take possession of the city, when to their great astonishment they saw the flag of the emperor alexius flying from the battlements. an emissary of the emperor, named faticius or tatin, had contrived to gain admission with a body of greek troops at a point which the crusaders had left unprotected, and had persuaded the turks to surrender to him rather than to the crusading forces. the greatest indignation prevailed in the army when this stratagem was discovered, and the soldiers were, with the utmost difficulty, prevented from renewing the attack and besieging the greek emissary. the army, however, continued its march, and by some means or other was broken into two divisions; some historians say accidentally, [fulcher of chartres.--guibert de nogent.--vital.] while others affirm by mutual consent, and for the convenience of obtaining provisions on the way. [william of tyre.--mills.--wilken, &c.] the one division was composed of the forces under bohemund, tancred, and the duke of normandy; while the other, which took a route at some distance on the right, was commanded by godfrey of bouillon and the other chiefs. the sultan of roum, who, after his losses at nice, had been silently making great efforts to crush the crusaders at one blow, collected in a very short time all the multitudinous tribes that owed him allegiance, and with an army which, according to a moderate calculation, amounted to two hundred thousand men, chiefly cavalry, he fell upon the first division of the christian host in the valley of dorylaeum. it was early in the morning of the st of july , when the crusaders saw the first companies of the turkish horsemen pouring down upon them from the hills. bohemund had hardly time to set himself in order, and transport his sick and helpless to the rear, when the overwhelming force of the orientals was upon him. the christian army, composed principally of men on foot, gave way on all sides, and the hoofs of the turkish steeds, and the poisoned arrows of their bowmen, mowed them down by hundreds. after having lost the flower of their chivalry, the christians retreated upon their baggage, when a dreadful slaughter took place. neither women nor children, nor the sick, were spared. just as they were reduced to the last extremity, godfrey of bouillon and the count of toulouse made their appearance on the field, and turned the tide of battle. after an obstinate engagement the turks fled, and their rich camp fell into the bands of the enemy. the loss of the crusaders amounted to about four thousand men, with several chiefs of renown, among whom were count robert of paris and william the brother of tancred. the loss of the turks, which did not exceed this number, taught them to pursue a different mode of warfare. the sultan was far from being defeated. with his still gigantic army, he laid waste all the country on either side of the crusaders. the latter, who were unaware of the tactics of the enemy, found plenty of provisions in the turkish camp; but so far from economizing these resources, they gave themselves up for several days to the most unbounded extravagance. they soon paid dearly for their heedlessness. in the ravaged country of phrygia, through which they advanced towards antiochetta, they suffered dreadfully for want of food for themselves and pasture for their cattle. above them was a scorching sun, almost sufficient of itself to dry up the freshness of the land, a task which the firebrands of the sultan had but too surely effected, and water was not to be had after the first day of their march. the pilgrims died at the rate of five hundred a-day. the horses of the knights perished on the road, and the baggage which they had aided to transport, was either placed upon dogs, sheep, and swine, or abandoned altogether. in some of the calamities that afterwards befell them, the christians gave themselves up to the most reckless profligacy; but upon this occasion, the dissensions which prosperity had engendered, were all forgotten. religion, often disregarded, arose in the stern presence of misfortune, and cheered them as they died by the promises of eternal felicity. at length they reached antiochetta, where they found water in abundance, and pastures for their expiring cattle. plenty once more surrounded them, and here they pitched their tents. untaught by the bitter experience of famine, they again gave themselves up to luxury and waste. on the th of october they sat down before the strong city of antioch, the siege of which, and the events to which it gave rise, are among the most extraordinary incidents of the crusade. the city, which is situated on an eminence, and washed by the river orontes, is naturally a very strong position, and the turkish garrison were well supplied with provisions to endure a long siege. in this respect the christians were also fortunate, but, unluckily for themselves, unwise. their force amounted to three hundred thousand fighting men; and we are informed by raymond d'argilles, that they had so much provision, that they threw away the greater part of every animal they killed, being so dainty, that they would only eat particular parts of the beast. so insane was their extravagance, that in less than ten days famine began to stare them in the face. after making a fruitless attempt to gain possession of the city by a coup de main, they, starving themselves, sat down to starve out the enemy. but with want came a cooling of enthusiasm. the chiefs began to grow weary of the expedition. baldwin had previously detached himself from the main body of the army, and, proceeding to edessa, had intrigued himself into the supreme power in that little principality. the other leaders were animated with less zeal than heretofore. stephen of chartres and hugh of vermandois began to waver, unable to endure the privations which their own folly and profusion had brought upon them. even peter the hermit became sick at heart ere all was over. when the famine had become so urgent that they were reduced to eat human flesh in the extremity of their hunger, bohemund and robert of flanders set forth on an expedition to procure a supply. they were in a slight degree successful; but the relief they brought was not economized, and in two days they were as destitute as before. faticius, the greek commander and representative of alexius, deserted with his division under pretence of seeking for food, and his example was followed by various bodies of crusaders. misery was rife among those who remained, and they strove to alleviate it by a diligent attention to signs and omens. these, with extraordinary visions seen by the enthusiastic, alternately cheered and depressed them according as they foretold the triumph or pictured the reverses of the cross. at one time a violent hurricane arose, levelling great trees with the ground, and blowing down the tents of the christian leaders. at another time an earthquake shook the camp, and was thought to prognosticate some great impending evil to the cause of christendom. but a comet which appeared shortly afterwards, raised them from the despondency into which they had fallen; their lively imaginations making it assume the form of a flaming cross leading them on to victory. famine was not the least of the evils they endured. unwholesome food, and the impure air from the neighbouring marshes, engendered pestilential diseases, which carried them off more rapidly than the arrows of the enemy. a thousand of them died in a day, and it became at last a matter of extreme difficulty to afford them burial. to add to their misery, each man grew suspicious of his neighbour; for the camp was infested by turkish spies, who conveyed daily to the besieged intelligence of the movements and distresses of the enemy. with a ferocity, engendered by despair, bohemund caused two spies, whom he had detected, to be roasted alive in presence of the army, and within sight of the battlements of antioch. but even this example failed to reduce their numbers, and the turks continued to be as well informed as the christians themselves of all that was passing in the camp. the news of the arrival of a reinforcement of soldiers from europe, with an abundant stock of provisions, came to cheer them when reduced to the last extremity. the welcome succour landed at st. simeon, the port of antioch, and about six miles from that city. thitherwards the famishing crusaders proceeded in tumultuous bands, followed by bohemund and the count of toulouse, with strong detachments of their retainers and vassals, to escort the supplies in safety to the camp. the garrison of antioch, forewarned of this arrival, was on the alert, and a corps of turkish archers was despatched to lie in ambuscade among the mountains and intercept their return. bohemund, laden with provisions, was encountered in the rocky passes by the turkish host. great numbers of his followers were slain, and he himself had just time to escape to the camp with the news of his defeat. godfrey of bouillon, the duke of normandy, and the other leaders had heard the rumour of this battle, and were at that instant preparing for the rescue. the army was immediately in motion, animated both by zeal and by hunger, and marched so rapidly as to intercept the victorious turks before they had time to reach antioch with their spoil. a fierce battle ensued, which lasted from noon till the going down of the sun. the christians gained and maintained the advantage, each man fighting as if upon himself alone had depended the fortune of the day. hundreds of turks perished in the orontes, and more than two thousand were left dead upon the field of battle. all the provision was recaptured and brought in safety to the camp, whither the crusaders returned singing allelulia! or shouting deus adjuva! deus adjuva! this relief lasted for some days, and, had it been duly economized, would have lasted much longer; but the chiefs had no authority, and were unable to exercise any control over its distribution. famine again approached with rapid strides, and stephen count of blois, not liking the prospect, withdrew from the camp, with four thousand of his retainers, and established himself at alexandretta. the moral influence of this desertion was highly prejudicial upon those who remained; and bohemund, the most impatient and ambitious of the chiefs, foresaw that, unless speedily checked, it would lead to the utter failure of the expedition. it was necessary to act decisively; the army murmured at the length of the siege, and the sultan was collecting his forces to crush them. against the efforts of the crusaders antioch might have held out for months; but treason within effected that, which courage without might have striven for in vain. baghasihan, the turkish prince or emir of antioch, had under his command an armenian of the name of phirouz, whom he had intrusted with the defence of a tower on that part of the city wall which overlooked the passes of the mountains. bohemund, by means of a spy who had embraced the christian religion, and to whom he had given his own name at baptism, kept up a daily communication with this captain, and made him the most magnificent promises of reward, if he would deliver up his post to the christian knights. whether the proposal was first made by bohemund or by the armenian is uncertain, but that a good understanding soon existed between them, is undoubted; and a night was fixed for the execution of the project. bohemund communicated the scheme to godfrey and the count of toulouse, with the stipulation that, if the city were won, he, as the soul of the enterprise, should enjoy the dignity of prince of antioch. the other leaders hesitated: ambition and jealousy prompted them to refuse their aid in furthering the views of the intriguer. more mature consideration decided them to acquiesce, and seven hundred of the bravest knights were chosen for the expedition, the real object of which, for fear of spies, was kept a profound secret from the rest of the army. when all was ready, a report was promulgated, that the seven hundred were intended to form an ambuscade for a division of the sultan's army, which was stated to be approaching. every thing favoured the treacherous project of the armenian captain, who, on his solitary watchtower, received due intimation of the approach of the crusaders. the night was dark and stormy; not a star was visible above, and the wind howled so furiously as to overpower all other sounds: the rain fell in torrents, and the watchers on the towers adjoining to that of phirouz could not hear the tramp of the armed knights for the wind, nor see them for the obscurity of the night and the dismalness of the weather. when within shot of the walls, bohemund sent forward an interpreter to confer with the armenian. the latter urged them to make haste, and seize the favourable interval, as armed men, with lighted torches, patrolled the battlements every half hour, and at that instant they had just passed. the chiefs were instantly at the foot of the wall: phirouz let down a rope; bohemund attached it to the end of a ladder of hides, which was then raised by the armenian, and held while the knights mounted. a momentary fear came over the spirits of the adventurers, and every one hesitated. at last bohemund, [vide william of tyre.] encouraged by phirouz from above, ascended a few steps on the ladder, and was followed by godfrey, count robert of flanders, and a number of other knights. as they advanced, others pressed forward, until their weight became too great for the ladder, which, breaking, precipitated about a dozen of them to the ground, where they fell one upon the other, making a great clatter with their heavy coats of mail. for a moment they thought that all was lost; but the wind made so loud a howling as it swept in fierce gusts through the mountain gorges--and the orontes, swollen by the rain, rushed so noisily along--that the guards heard nothing. the ladder was easily repaired, and the knights ascended two at a time, and reached the platform in safety, when sixty of them had thus ascended, the torch of the coming patrol was seen to gleam at the angle of the wall. hiding themselves behind a buttress, they awaited his coming in breathless silence. as soon as he arrived at arm's length, he was suddenly seized, and, before he could open his lips to raise an alarm, the silence of death closed them up for ever. they next descended rapidly the spiral staircase of the tower, and, opening the portal, admitted the whole of their companions. raymond of toulouse, who, cognizant of the whole plan, had been left behind with the main body of the army, heard at this instant the signal horn, which announced that an entry had been effected, and, leading on his legions, the town was attacked from within and without. imagination cannot conceive a scene more dreadful than that presented by the devoted city of antioch on that night of horror. the crusaders fought with a blind fury, which fanaticism and suffering alike incited. men, women, and children were indiscriminately slaughtered till the streets ran in gore. darkness increased the destruction, for when morning dawned the crusaders found themselves with their swords at the breasts of their fellow-soldiers, whom they had mistaken for foes. the turkish commander fled, first to the citadel, and that becoming insecure, to the mountains, whither he was pursued and slain, his grey head brought back to antioch as a trophy. at daylight the massacre ceased, and the crusaders gave themselves up to plunder. they found gold, and jewels, and silks, and velvets in abundance, but, of provisions, which were of more importance to them, they found but little of any kind. corn was excessively scarce, and they discovered to their sorrow that in this respect the besieged had been but little better off than the besiegers. before they had time to instal themselves in their new position, and take the necessary measures for procuring a supply, the city was invested by the turks. the sultan of persia had raised an immense army, which he intrusted to the command of kerbogha, the emir of mosul, with instructions to sweep the christian locusts from the face of the land. the emir effected junction with kilij aslaun, and the two armies surrounded the city. discouragement took complete possession of the christian host, and numbers of them contrived to elude the vigilance of the besiegers, and escape to count stephen of blots at alexandretta, to whom they related the most exaggerated tales of the misery they had endured, and the utter hopelessness of continuing the war. stephen forthwith broke up his camp and retreated towards constantinople. on his way he was met by the emperor alexius, at the head of a considerable force, hastening to take possession of the conquests made by the christians in asia. as soon as he heard of their woeful plight, he turned back, and proceeded with the count of blots to constantinople, leaving the remnant of the crusaders to shift for themselves. the news of this defection increased the discouragement at antioch. all the useless horses of the army had been slain and eaten, and dogs, cats, and rats were sold at enormous prices. even vermin were becoming scarce. with increasing famine came a pestilence, so that in a short time but sixty thousand remained of the three hundred thousand that had originally invested antioch. but this bitter extremity, while it annihilated the energy of the host, only served to knit the leaders more firmly together; and bohemund, godfrey, and tancred swore never to desert the cause as long as life lasted. the former strove in vain to reanimate the courage of his followers. they were weary and sick at heart, and his menaces and promises were alike thrown away. some of them had shut themselves up in the houses, and refused to come forth. bohemund, to drive them to their duty, set fire to the whole quarter, and many of them perished in the flames, while the rest of the army looked on with the utmost indifference. bohemund, animated himself by a worldly spirit, did not know the true character of the crusaders, nor understand the religious madness which had brought them in such shoals from europe. a priest, more clear-sighted, devised a scheme which restored all their confidence, and inspired them with a courage so wonderful as to make the poor sixty thousand emaciated, sick, and starving zealots, put to flight the well-fed and six times as numerous legions of the sultan of persia. this priest, a native of provence, was named peter barthelemy, and whether he were a knave or an enthusiast, or both; a principal, or a tool in the hands of others, will ever remain a matter of doubt. certain it is, however, that he was the means of raising the siege of antioch, and causing the eventual triumph of the armies of the cross. when the strength of the crusaders was completely broken by their sufferings, and hope had fled from every bosom, peter came to count raymond of toulouse, and demanded an interview on matters of serious moment. he was immediately admitted. he said that, some weeks previously, at the time the christians were besieging antioch, he was reposing alone in his tent, when he was startled by the shock of the earthquake, which had so alarmed the whole host. through violent terror of the shock he could only ejaculate, god help me! when turning round he saw two men standing before him, whom he at once recognized by the halo of glory around them as beings of another world. one of them appeared to be an aged man, with reddish hair sprinkled with grey, black eyes, and a long flowing grey beard. the other was younger, larger, and handsomer, and had something more divine in his aspect. the elderly man alone spoke, and informed him that he was the holy apostle st. andrew, and desired him to seek out the count raymond, the bishop of puy, and raymond of altopulto, and ask them why the bishop did not exhort the people, and sign them with the cross which he bore. the apostle then took him, naked in his shirt as he was, and transported him through the air into the heart of the city of antioch, where he led him into the church of st. peter, at that time a saracen mosque. the apostle made him stop by the pillar close to the steps by which they ascend on the south side to the altar, where hung two lamps, which gave out a light brighter than that of the noonday sun; the younger man, whom he did not at that time know, standing afar off, near the steps of the altar. the apostle then descended into the ground and brought up a lance, which he gave into his hand, telling him that it was the very lance that had opened the side whence had flowed the salvation of the world. with tears of joy he held the holy lance, and implored the apostle to allow him to take it away and deliver it into the hands of count raymond. the apostle refused, and buried the lance again in the ground, commanding him, when the city was won from the infidels, to go with twelve chosen men, and dig it up again in the same place. the apostle then transported him back to his tent, and the two vanished from his sight. he had neglected, he said, to deliver this message, afraid that his wonderful tale would not obtain credence from men of such high rank. after some days he again saw the holy vision, as he was gone out of the camp to look for food. this time the divine eyes of the younger looked reproachfully upon him. he implored the apostle to choose some one else more fitted for the mission, but the apostle refused, and smote him with a disorder of the eyes, as a punishment for his disobedience. with an obstinacy unaccountable even to himself, he had still delayed. a third time the apostle and his companion had appeared to him, as he was in a tent with his master william at st. simeon. on that occasion st. andrew told him to bear his command to the count of toulouse not to bathe in the waters of the jordan when he came to it, but to cross over in a boat, clad in a shirt and breeches of linen, which he should sprinkle with the sacred waters of the river. these clothes he was afterwards to preserve along with the holy lance. his master william, although he could not see the saint, distinctly heard the voice giving orders to that effect. again he neglected to execute the commission, and again the saints appeared to him, when he was at the port of mamistra, about to sail for cyprus, and st. andrew threatened him with eternal perdition if he refused longer. upon this he made up his mind to divulge all that had been revealed to him. the count of toulouse, who, in all probability, concocted this precious tale with the priest, appeared struck with the recital, and sent immediately for the bishop of puy and raymond of altapulto. the bishop at once expressed his disbelief of the whole story, and refused to have anything to do in the matter. the count of toulouse, on the contrary, saw abundant motives, if not for believing, for pretending to believe; and, in the end, he so impressed upon the mind of the bishop the advantage that might be derived from it, in working up the popular mind to its former excitement, that the latter reluctantly agreed to make search in due form for the holy weapon. the day after the morrow was fixed upon for the ceremony, and, in the mean time, peter was consigned to the care of raymond, the count's chaplain, in order that no profane curiosity might have an opportunity of cross-examining him, and putting him to a nonplus. twelve devout men were forthwith chosen for the undertaking, among whom were the count of toulouse and his chaplain. they began digging at sunrise, and continued unwearied till near sunset, without finding the lance;--they might have dug till this day with no better success, had not peter himself sprung into the pit, praying to god to bring the lance to light, for the strengthening and victory of his people. those who hide know where to find; and so it was with peter, for both he and the lance found their way into the hole at the same time. on a sudden, he and raymond, the chaplain, beheld its point in the earth, and raymond, drawing it forth, kissed it with tears of joy, in sight of the multitude which had assembled in the church. it was immediately enveloped in a rich purple cloth, already prepared to receive it, and exhibited in this state to the faithful, who made the building resound with their shouts of gladness. peter had another vision the same night, and became from that day forth "dreamer of dreams," in general, to the army. he stated on the following day, that the apostle andrew and "the youth with the divine aspect" appeared to him again, and directed that the count of toulouse, as a reward for his persevering piety, should carry the holy lance at the head of the army, and that the day on which it was found should be observed as a solemn festival throughout christendom. st. andrew showed him, at the same time, the holes in the feet and hands of his benign companion; and he became convinced that he stood in the awful presence of the redeemer. peter gained so much credit by his visions that dreaming became contagious. other monks beside himself were visited by the saints, who promised victory to the host if it would valiantly hold out to the last, and crowns of eternal glory to those who fell in the fight. two deserters, wearied of the fatigues and privations of the war, who had stealthily left the camp, suddenly returned, and seeking bohemund, told him that they had been met by two apparitions, who, with great anger, had commanded them to return. the one of them said, that he recognized his brother, who had been killed in battle some months before, and that he had a halo of glory around his head. the other, still more hardy, asserted that the apparition which had spoken to him was the saviour himself, who had promised eternal happiness as his reward if he returned to his duty, but the pains of eternal fire if he rejected the cross. no one thought of disbelieving these men. the courage of the army immediately revived; despondency gave way to hope; every arm grew strong again, and the pangs of hunger were for a time disregarded. the enthusiasm which had led them from europe burned forth once more as brightly as ever, and they demanded, with loud cries, to be led against the enemy. the leaders were not unwilling. in a battle lay their only chance of salvation; and although godfrey, bohemund, and tancred received the story of the lance with much suspicion, they were too wise to throw discredit upon an imposture which bade fair to open the gates of victory. peter the hermit was previously sent to the camp of kerbogha to propose that the quarrel between the two religions should be decided by a chosen number of the bravest soldiers of each army. kerbogha turned from him with a look of contempt, and said he could agree to no proposals from a set of such miserable beggars and robbers. with this uncourteous answer peter returned to antioch. preparations were immediately commenced for an attack upon the enemy: the latter continued to be perfectly well informed of all the proceedings of the christian camp. the citadel of antioch, which remained in their possession, overlooked the town, and the commander of the fortress could distinctly see all that was passing within. on the morning of the th of june a black flag, hoisted from its highest tower, announced to the besieging army that the christians were about to sally forth. the moslem leaders knew the sad inroads that famine and disease had made upon the numbers of the foe: they knew that not above two hundred of the knights had horses to ride upon, and that the foot soldiers were sick and emaciated; but they did not know the almost incredible valour which superstition had infused into their hearts. the story of the lance they treated with the most supreme contempt, and, secure of an easy victory, they gave themselves no trouble in preparing for the onslaught. it is related that kerbogha was playing a game at chess, when the black flag on the citadel gave warning of the enemy's approach, and that, with true oriental coolness, he insisted upon finishing the game ere he bestowed any of his attention upon a foe so unworthy. the defeat of his advanced post of two thousand men aroused him from his apathy. the crusaders, after this first victory, advanced joyfully towards the mountains, hoping to draw the turks to a place where their cavalry would be unable to manoeuvre. their spirits were light and their courage high, as led on by the duke of normandy, count robert of flanders, and hugh of vermandois, they came within sight of the splendid camp of the enemy. godfrey of bouillon and adhemar, bishop of puy, followed immediately after these leaders, the latter clad in complete armour, and bearing the holy lance within sight of the whole army: bohemund and tancred brought up the rear. kerbogha, aware at last that his enemy was not so despicable, took vigorous measures to remedy his mistake, and, preparing himself to meet the christians in front, he despatched the sultan soliman, of roum, to attack them in the rear. to conceal this movement, he set fire to the dried weeds and grass with which the ground was covered, and soliman, taking a wide circuit with his cavalry, succeeded, under cover of the smoke, in making good his position in the rear. the battle raged furiously in front; the arrows of the turks fell thick as hail, and their well-trained squadrons trod the crusaders under their hoofs like stubble. still the affray was doubtful; for the christians had the advantage of the ground, and were rapidly gaining upon the enemy, when the overwhelming forces of soliman arrived in the rear. godfrey and tancred flew to the rescue of bohemund, spreading dismay in the turkish ranks by their fierce impetuosity. the bishop of puy was left almost alone with the provencals to oppose the legions commanded by kerbogha in person; but the presence of the holy lance made a hero of the meanest soldier in his train. still, however, the numbers of the enemy seemed interminable. the christians, attacked on every side, began at last to give way, and the turks made sure of victory. at this moment a cry was raised in the christian host that the saints were fighting on their side. the battle-field was clear of the smoke from the burning weeds, which had curled away, and hung in white clouds of fantastic shape on the brow of the distant mountains. some imaginative zealot, seeing this dimly through the dust of the battle, called out to his fellows, to look at the army of saints, clothed in white, and riding upon white horses, that were pouring over the hills to the rescue. all eyes were immediately turned to the distant smoke; faith was in every heart; and the old battle-cry, god wills it! god wills it! resounded through the field, as every soldier, believing that god was visibly sending his armies to his aid, fought with an energy unfelt before. a panic seized the persian and turkish hosts, and they gave way in all directions. in vain kerbogha tried to rally them. fear is more contagious than enthusiasm, and they fled over the mountains like deer pursued by the hounds. the two leaders, seeing the uselessness of further efforts, fled with the rest; and that immense army was scattered over palestine, leaving nearly seventy thousand of its dead upon the field of battle. their magnificent camp fell into the hands of the enemy, with its rich stores of corn, and its droves of sheep and oxen. jewels, gold, and rich velvets in abundance were distributed among the army. tancred followed the fugitives over the hills, and reaped as much plunder as those who had remained in the camp. the way, as they fled, was covered with valuables, and horses of the finest breed of arabia became so plentiful, that every knight of the christians was provided with a steed. the crusaders, in this battle, acknowledge to have lost nearly ten thousand men. their return to antioch was one of joy indeed: the citadel was surrendered at once, and many of the turkish garrison embraced the christian faith, and the rest were suffered to depart. a solemn thanksgiving was offered up by the bishop of puy, in which the whole army joined, and the holy lance was visited by every soldier. the enthusiasm lasted for some days, and the army loudly demanded to be led forward to jerusalem, the grand goal of all their wishes: but none of their leaders was anxious to move;--the more prudent among them, such as godfrey and tancred, for reasons of expediency; and the more ambitious, such as the count of toulouse and bohemund, for reasons of self-interest. violent dissensions sprang up again between all the chiefs. raymond of toulouse, who was left at antioch to guard the town, had summoned the citadel to surrender, as soon as he saw that there was no fear of any attack upon the part of the persians; and the other chiefs found, upon their return, his banner waving on its walls. this had given great offence to bohemund, who had stipulated the principality of antioch as his reward for winning the town in the first instance. godfrey and tancred supported his claim, and, after a great deal of bickering, the flag of raymond was lowered from the tower, and that of bohemund hoisted in its stead, who assumed from that time the title of prince of antioch. raymond, however, persisted in retaining possession of one of the city gates and its adjacent towers, which he held for several months, to the great annoyance of bohemund and the scandal of the army. the count became in consequence extremely unpopular, although his ambition was not a whit more unreasonable than that of bohemund himself, nor of baldwin, who had taken up his quarters at edessa, where he exercised the functions of a petty sovereign. the fate of peter barthelemy deserves to be recorded. honours and consideration had come thick upon him after the affair of the lance, and he consequently felt bound in conscience to continue the dreams which had made him a personage of so much importance. the mischief of it was, that like many other liars he had a very bad memory, and he contrived to make his dreams contradict each other in the most palpable manner. st. john one night appeared to him, and told one tale, while, a week after, st. paul told a totally different story, and held out hopes quite incompatible with those of his apostolic brother. the credulity of that age had a wide maw, and peter's visions must have been absurd and outrageous indeed, when the very men who had believed in the lance refused to swallow any more of his wonders. bohemund at last, for the purpose of annoying the count of toulouse, challenged poor peter to prove the truth of his story of the lance by the fiery ordeal. peter could not refuse a trial so common in that age, and being besides encouraged by the count and his chaplain, raymond, an early day was appointed for the ceremony. the previous night was spent in prayer and fasting, according to custom, and peter came forth in the morning bearing the lance in his hand, and walked boldly up to the fire. the whole army gathered round, impatient for the result, many thousands still believing that the lance was genuine and peter a holy man. prayers having been said by raymond d'agilles, peter walked into the flames, and had got nearly through, when pain caused him to lose his presence of mind: the heat too affected his eyes, and, in his anguish, he turned round unwittingly, and passed through the fire again, instead of stepping out of it, as he should have done. the result was, that he was burned so severely, that he never recovered, and, after lingering for some days, he expired in great agony. most of the soldiers were suffering either from wounds, disease, or weariness, and it was resolved by godfrey,--the tacitly acknowledged chief of the enterprize,--that the army should have time to refresh itself ere they advanced upon jerusalem. it was now july, and he proposed that they should pass the hot months of august and september within the walls of antioch, and march forward in october with renewed vigour, and numbers increased by fresh arrivals from europe. this advice was finally adopted, although the enthusiasts of the army continued to murmur at the delay. in the mean time the count of vermandois was sent upon an embassy to the emperor alexius at constantinople, to reproach him for his base desertion of the cause, and urge him to send the reinforcements he had promised. the count faithfully executed his mission, (of which, by the way, alexius took no notice whatever,) and remained for some time at constantinople, till his zeal, never very violent, totally evaporated. he then returned to france, sick of the crusade, and determined to intermeddle with it no more. the chiefs, though they had determined to stay at antioch for two months, could not remain quiet for so long a time. they would, in all probability, have fallen upon each other, had there been no turks in palestine upon whom they might vent their impetuosity. godfrey proceeded to edessa, to aid his brother baldwin in expelling the saracens from his principality, and the other leaders carried on separate hostilities against them as caprice or ambition dictated. at length the impatience of the army to be led against jerusalem became so great that the chiefs could no longer delay, and raymond, tancred, and robert of normandy marched forward with their divisions, and laid siege to the small but strong town of marah. with their usual improvidence, they had not food enough to last a beleaguering army for a week. they suffered great privations in consequence, till bohemund came to their aid and took the town by storm. in connexion with this siege, the chronicler, raymond d'agilles, (the same raymond, the chaplain, who figured in the affair of the holy lance,) relates a legend, in the truth of which he devoutly believed, and upon which tasso has founded one of the most beautiful passages of his poem. it is worth preserving, as showing the spirit of the age and the source of the extraordinary courage manifested by the crusaders on occasions of extreme difficulty. "one day," says raymond, "anselme de ribeaumont beheld young engelram, the son of the count de st. paul, who had been killed at marsh, enter his tent. 'how is it,' said anselme to him, 'that you, whom i saw lying dead on the field of battle, are full of life?'--'you must know,' replied engelram, 'that those who fight for jesus christ never die.'--'but whence,' resumed anselme, 'comes that strange brightness that surrounds you?' upon this engelram pointed to the sky, where anselme saw a palace of diamond and crystal. 'it is thence,' said he, 'that i derive the beauty which surprises you. my dwelling is there; a still finer one is prepared for you, and you shall soon come to inhabit it. farewell! we shall meet again to-morrow.' with these words engelram returned to heaven. anselme, struck by the vision, sent the next morning for the priests, received the sacrament; and although full of health, took a last farewell of all his friends, telling them that he was about to leave this world. a few hours afterwards, the enemy having made a sortie, anselme went out against them sword in hand, and was struck on the forehead by a stone from a turkish sling, which sent him to heaven, to the beautiful palace that was prepared for him." new disputes arose between the prince of antioch and the count of toulouse with regard to the capture of this town, which were with the utmost difficulty appeased by the other chiefs. delays also took place in the progress of the army, especially before arches, and the soldiery were so exasperated that they were on the point of choosing new leaders to conduct them to jerusalem. godfrey, upon this, set fire to his camp at arches, and marched forward. he was immediately joined by hundreds of the provencals of the count of toulouse. the latter, seeing the turn affairs were taking, hastened after them, and the whole host proceeded towards the holy city, so long desired amid sorrow, and suffering, and danger. at emmaus they were met by a deputation from the christians of bethlehem, praying for immediate aid against the oppression of the infidels. the very name of bethlehem, the birthplace of the saviour, was music to their ears, and many of them wept with joy to think they were approaching a spot so hallowed. albert of aix informs us that their hearts were so touched that sleep was banished from the camp, and that, instead of waiting till the morning's dawn to recommence their march, they set out shortly after midnight, full of hope and enthusiasm. for upwards of four hours the mail-clad legions tramped steadfastly forward in the dark, and when the sun arose in unclouded splendour, the towers and pinnacles of jerusalem gleamed upon their sight. all the tender feelings of their nature were touched; no longer brutal fanatics, but meek and humble pilgrims, they knelt down upon the sod, and with tears in their eyes, exclaimed to one another, "jerusalem! jerusalem!" some of them kissed the holy ground, others stretched themselves at full length upon it, in order that their bodies might come in contact with the greatest possible extent of it, and others prayed aloud. the women and children who had followed the camp from europe, and shared in all its dangers, fatigues, and privations, were more boisterous in their joy; the former from long-nourished enthusiasm, and the latter from mere imitation, [guibert de nogent relates a curious instance of the imitativeness of these juvenile crusaders. he says that, during the siege of antioch, the christian and saracen boys used to issue forth every evening from the town and camp in great numbers under the command of captains chosen from among themselves. armed with sticks instead of swords, and stones instead of arrows, they ranged themselves in battle order, and shouting each the war-cry of their country, fought with the utmost desperation. some of them lost their eyes, and many became cripples for life from the injuries they received on these occasions.] and prayed, and wept, and laughed till they almost put the more sober to the blush. the first ebullition of their gladness having subsided, the army marched forward, and invested the city on all sides. the assault was almost immediately begun; but after the christians had lost some of their bravest knights, that mode of attack was abandoned, and the army commenced its preparations for a regular siege. mangonels, moveable towers, and battering rams, together with a machine called a sow, made of wood, and covered with raw hides, inside of which miners worked to undermine the walls, were forthwith constructed; and to restore the courage and discipline of the army, which had suffered from the unworthy dissensions of the chiefs, the latter held out the hand of friendship to each other, and tancred and the count of toulouse embraced in sight of the whole camp. the clergy aided the cause with their powerful voice, and preached union and goodwill to the highest and the lowest. a solemn procession was also ordered round the city, in which the entire army joined, prayers being offered up at every spot which gospel records had taught them to consider as peculiarly sacred. the saracens upon the ramparts beheld all these manifestations without alarm. to incense the christians, whom they despised, they constructed rude crosses, and fixed them upon the walls, and spat upon and pelted them with dirt and stones. this insult to the symbol of their faith raised the wrath of the crusaders to that height that bravery became ferocity and enthusiasm madness. when all the engines of war were completed the attack was recommenced, and every soldier of the christian army fought with a vigour which the sense of private wrong invariably inspires. every man had been personally outraged, and the knights worked at the battering-rams with as much readiness as the meanest soldiers. the saracen arrows and balls of fire fell thick and fast among them, but the tremendous rams still heaved against the walls, while the best marksmen of the host were busily employed in the several floors of the moveable towers in dealing death among the turks upon the battlements. godfrey, raymond, tancred, and robert of normandy, each upon his tower, fought for hours with unwearied energy, often repulsed, but ever ready to renew the struggle. the turks, no longer despising the enemy, defended themselves with the utmost skill and bravery till darkness brought a cessation of hostilities. short was the sleep that night in the christian camp. the priests offered up solemn prayers in the midst of the attentive soldiery for the triumph of the cross in this last great struggle, and as soon as morning dawned every one was in readiness for the affray. the women and children lent their aid, the latter running unconcerned to and fro while the arrows fell fast around them, bearing water to the thirsty combatants. the saints were believed to be aiding their efforts, and the army, impressed with this idea, surmounted difficulties under which a force thrice as numerous, but without their faith, would have quailed and been defeated. raymond of toulouse at last forced his way into the city by escalade, while at the very same moment tancred and robert of normandy succeeded in bursting open one of the gates. the turks flew to repair the mischief, and godfrey of bouillon, seeing the battlements comparatively deserted, let down the drawbridge of his moveable tower, and sprang forward, followed by all the knights of his train. in an instant after, the banner of the cross floated upon the walls of jerusalem. the crusaders, raising once more their redoubtable war-cry, rushed on from every side, and the city was taken. the battle raged in the streets for several hours, and the christians, remembering their insulted faith, gave no quarter to young or old, male or female, sick or strong. not one of the leaders thought himself at liberty to issue orders for staying the carnage, and if he had, he would not have been obeyed. the saracens fled in great numbers to the mosque of soliman, but they had not time to fortify themselves within it ere the christians were upon them. ten thousand persons are said to have perished in that building alone. peter the hermit, who had remained so long under the veil of neglect, was repaid that day for all his zeal and all his sufferings. as soon as the battle was over, the christians of jerusalem issued forth from their hiding-places to welcome their deliverers. they instantly recognized the hermit as the pilgrim who, years before, had spoken to them so eloquently of the wrongs and insults they had endured, and promised to stir up the princes and people of europe in their behalf. they clung to the skirts of his garments in the fervour of their gratitude, and vowed to remember him for ever in their prayers. many of them shed tears about his neck, and attributed the deliverance of jerusalem solely to his courage and perseverance. peter afterwards held some ecclesiastical office in the holy city, but what it was, or what was his ultimate fate, history has forgotten to inform us. some say that he returned to france and founded a monastery, but the story does not rest upon sufficient authority. the grand object for which the popular swarms of europe had forsaken their homes was now accomplished. the moslem mosques of jerusalem were converted into churches for a purer faith, and the mount of calvary and the sepulchre of christ were profaned no longer by the presence or the power of the infidel. popular frenzy had fulfilled its mission, and, as a natural consequence, it began to subside from that time forth. the news of the capture of jerusalem brought numbers of pilgrims from europe, and, among others, stephen count of chartres and hugh of vermandois, to atone for their desertion; but nothing like the former enthusiasm existed among the nations. thus then ends the history of the first crusade. for the better understanding of the second, it will be necessary to describe the interval between them, and to enter into a slight sketch of the history of jerusalem under its latin kings, the long and fruitless wars they continued to wage with the unvanquished saracens, and the poor and miserable results which sprang from so vast an expenditure of zeal, and so deplorable a waste of human life. the necessity of having some recognized chief was soon felt by the crusaders, and godfrey de bouillon, less ambitious than bohemund, or raymond of toulouse, gave his cold consent to wield a sceptre which the latter chiefs would have clutched with eagerness. he was hardly invested with the royal mantle before the saracens menaced his capital. with much vigour and judgment he exerted himself to follow up the advantages he had gained, and marching out to meet the enemy before they had time to besiege him in jerusalem, he gave them battle at ascalon, and defeated them with great loss. he did not, however, live long to enjoy his new dignity, being seized with a fatal illness when he had only reigned nine months. to him succeeded his brother, baldwin of edessa. the latter monarch did much to improve the condition of jerusalem and to extend its territory, but was not able to make a firm footing for his successors. for fifty years, in which the history of jerusalem is full of interest to the historical student, the crusaders were exposed to fierce and constant hostilities, often gaining battles and territory, and as often losing them, but becoming every day weaker and more divided, while the saracens became stronger and more united to harass and root them out. the battles of this period were of the most chivalrous character, and deeds of heroism were done by the handful of brave knights that remained in syria, which have hardly their parallel in the annals of war. in the course of time, however, the christians could not avoid feeling some respect for the courage, and admiration for the polished manners and advanced civilization of the saracens, so much superior to the rudeness and semi-barbarism of europe at that day. difference of faith did not prevent them from forming alliances with the dark-eyed maidens of the east. one of the first to set the example of taking a paynim spouse was king baldwin himself, and these connexions in time became, not only frequent, but almost universal, among such of the knights as had resolved to spend their lives in palestine. these eastern ladies were obliged, however, to submit to the ceremony of baptism before they could be received to the arms of a christian lord. these, and their offspring, naturally looked upon the saracens with less hatred than did the zealots who conquered jerusalem, and who thought it a sin deserving the wrath of god to spare an unbeliever. we find, in consequence, that the most obstinate battles waged during the reigns of the later kings of jerusalem were fought by the new and raw levies who from time to time arrived from europe, lured by the hope of glory, or spurred by fanaticism. the latter broke without scruple the truces established between the original settlers and the saracens, and drew down severe retaliation upon many thousands of their brethren in the faith, whose prudence was stronger than their zeal, and whose chief desire was to live in peace. things remained in this unsatisfactory state till the close of the year , when edessa, the strong frontier town of the christian kingdom, fell into the bauds of the saracens. the latter were commanded by zenghi, a powerful and enterprising monarch, and, after his death, by his son nourheddin, as powerful and enterprising as his father. an unsuccessful attempt was made by the count of edessa to regain the fortress, but nourheddin, with a large army, came to the rescue, and after defeating the count with great slaughter, marched into edessa and caused its fortifications to be rased to the ground, that the town might never more be a bulwark of defence for the kingdom of jerusalem. the road to the capital was now open, and consternation seized the hearts of the christians. nourheddin, it was known, was only waiting for a favourable opportunity to advance upon jerusalem, and the armies of the cross, weakened and divided, were not in a condition to make any available resistance. the clergy were filled with grief and alarm, and wrote repeated letters to the pope and the sovereigns of europe, urging the expediency of a new crusade for the relief of jerusalem. by far the greater number of the priests of palestine were natives of france, and these naturally looked first to their own country. the solicitations they sent to louis the seventh were urgent and oft repeated, and the chivalry of france began to talk once more of arming in the defence of the birthplace of jesus. the kings of europe, whose interest it had not been to take any part in the first crusade, began to bestir themselves in this; and a man appeared, eloquent as peter the hermit, to arouse the people as he had done. we find, however, that the enthusiasm of the second did not equal that of the first crusade: in fact, the mania had reached its climax in the time of peter the hermit, and decreased regularly from that period. the third crusade was less general than the second, and the fourth than the third, and so on, until the public enthusiasm was quite extinct, and jerusalem returned at last to the dominion of its old masters without a convulsion in christendom. various reasons have been assigned for this; and one very generally put forward is, that europe was wearied with continued struggles, and had become sick of "precipitating itself upon asia." m. guizot, in his admirable lectures upon european civilization, successfully combats this opinion, and offers one of his own, which is far more satisfactory. he says, in his eighth lecture, "it has been often repeated, that europe was tired of continually invading asia. this expression appears to me exceedingly incorrect. it is not possible that human beings can be wearied with what they have not done--that the labours of their forefathers can fatigue them. weariness is a personal, not an inherited feeling. the men of the thirteenth century were not fatigued by the crusades of the twelfth. they were influenced by another cause. a great change had taken place in ideas, sentiments, and social conditions. the same desires and the same wants were no longer felt. the same things were no longer believed. the people refused to believe what their ancestors were persuaded of." this is, in fact, the secret of the change; and its truth becomes more apparent as we advance in the history of the crusades, and compare the state of the public mind at the different periods when godfrey of bouillon, louis vii. and richard i. were chiefs and leaders of the movement. the crusades themselves were the means of operating a great change in national ideas, and advancing the civilization of europe. in the time of godfrey, the nobles were all-powerful and all-oppressive, and equally obnoxious to kings and people. during their absence along with that portion of the community the deepest sunk in ignorance and superstition, both kings and people fortified themselves against the renewal of aristocratic tyranny, and in proportion as they became free, became civilized. it was during this period that in france, the grand centre of the crusading madness, the communes began to acquire strength, and the monarch to possess a tangible and not a merely theoretic authority. order and comfort began to take root, and, when the second crusade was preached, men were in consequence much less willing to abandon their homes than they had been during the first. such pilgrims as had returned from the holy land came back with minds more liberal and expanded than when they set out. they had come in contact with a people more civilized than themselves; they had seen something more of the world, and had lost some portion, however small, of the prejudice and bigotry of ignorance. the institution of chivalry had also exercised its humanizing influence, and coming bright and fresh through the ordeal of the crusades, had softened the character and improved the hearts of the aristocratic order. the trouveres and troubadours, singing of love and war in strains pleasing to every class of society, helped to root out the gloomy superstitions which, at the first crusade, filled the minds of all those who were able to think. men became in consequence less exclusively under the mental thraldom of the priesthood, and lost much of the credulity which formerly distinguished them. the crusades appear never to have excited so much attention in england as on the continent of europe; not because the people were less fanatical than their neighbours, but because they were occupied in matters of graver interest. the english were suffering too severely from the recent successful invasion of their soil, to have much sympathy to bestow upon the distresses of people so far away as the christians of palestine; and we find that they took no part in the first crusade, and very little in the second. even then those who engaged in it were chiefly norman knights and their vassals, and not the saxon franklins and population, who no doubt thought, in their sorrow, as many wise men have thought since, that charity should begin at home. germany was productive of more zeal in the cause, and her raw, uncivilized hordes continued to issue forth under the banners of the cross in numbers apparently undiminished, when the enthusiasm had long been on the wane in other countries. they were sunk at that time in a deeper slough of barbarism than the livelier nations around them, and took, in consequence, a longer period to free themselves from their prejudices. in fact, the second crusade drew its chief supplies of men from that quarter, where alone the expedition can be said to have retained any portion of popularity. such was the state of the mind of europe when pope eugenius, moved by the reiterated entreaties of the christians of syria, commissioned st. bernard to preach a new crusade. st. bernard was a man eminently qualified for the mission. he was endowed with an eloquence of the highest order, could move an auditory to tears, or laughter, or fury, as it pleased him, and had led a life of such rigid and self-denying virtue, that not even calumny could lift her finger and point it at him. he had renounced high prospects in the church, and contented himself with the simple abbacy of clairvaux, in order that he might have the leisure he desired, to raise his powerful voice against abuses wherever he found them. vice met in him an austere and uncompromising reprover; no man was too high for his reproach, and none too low for his sympathy. he was just as well suited for his age as peter the hermit had been for the age preceding. he appealed more to the reason, his predecessor to the passions; peter the hermit collected a mob, while st. bernard collected an army. both were endowed with equal zeal and perseverance, springing, in the one, from impulse, and in the other from conviction, and a desire to increase the influence of the church, that great body of which he was a pillar and an ornament. one of the first converts he made was in himself a host. louis vii. was both superstitious and tyrannical, and, in a fit of remorse for the infamous slaughter he had authorised at the sacking of vitry, he made a vow to undertake the journey to the holy land. [the sacking of vitry reflects indelible disgrace upon louis vii. his predecessors had been long engaged in resistance to the outrageous powers assumed by the popes, and louis continued the same policy. the ecclesiastical chapter of bourges, having elected an archbishop without his consent, he proclaimed the election to be invalid, and took severe and prompt measures against the refractory clergy. thibault, count de champagne, took up arms in defence of the papal authority, and intrenched himself in the town of vitry. louis was immediately in the field to chastise the rebel, and he besieged the town with so much vigour, that the count was forced to surrender. upwards of thirteen hundred of the inhabitants, fully one half of whom were women and children, took refuge in the church; and, when the gates of the city were opened, and all resistance had ceased, louis inhumanly gave orders to set fire to the church, and a thousand persons perished in the flames.] he was in this disposition when st. bernard began to preach, and wanted but little persuasion to embark in the cause. his example had great influence upon the nobility, who, impoverished as many of them were by the sacrifices made by their fathers in the holy wars, were anxious to repair their ruined fortunes by conquests on a foreign shore. these took the field with such vassals as they could command, and, in a very short time, an army was raised amounting to two hundred thousand men. at vezelai the monarch received the cross from the hands of st. bernard, on a platform elevated in sight of all the people. several nobles, three bishops, and his queen, eleanor of aquitaine, were present at this ceremony, and enrolled themselves under the banners of the cross, st. bernard cutting up his red sacerdotal vestments, and making crosses of them, to be sewn on the shoulders of the people. an exhortation from the pope was read to the multitude, granting remission of their sins to all who should join the crusade, and directing that no man on that holy pilgrimage should encumber himself with heavy baggage and vain superfluities, and that the nobles should not travel with dogs or falcons, to lead them from the direct road, as had happened to so many during the first crusade. the command of the army was offered to st. bernard; but he wisely refused to accept a station for which his habits had unqualified him. after consecrating louis with great solemnity, at st. denis, as chief of the expedition, he continued his course through the country, stirring up the people wherever he went. so high an opinion was entertained of his sanctity, that he was thought to be animated by the spirit of prophecy, and to be gifted with the power of working miracles. many women, excited by his eloquence, and encouraged by his predictions, forsook their husbands and children, and, clothing themselves in male attire, hastened to the war. st. bernard himself wrote a letter to the pope, detailing his success, and stating, that in several towns there did not remain a single male inhabitant capable of bearing arms, and that everywhere castles and towns were to be seen filled with women weeping for their absent husbands. but in spite of this apparent enthusiasm, the numbers who really took up arms were inconsiderable, and not to be compared to the swarms of the first crusade. a levy of no more than two hundred thousand men, which was the utmost the number amounted to, could hardly have depopulated a country like france to the extent mentioned by st. bernard. his description of the state of the country appears, therefore, to have been much more poetical than true. suger, the able minister of louis, endeavoured to dissuade him from undertaking so long a journey at a time when his own dominions so much needed his presence. but the king was pricked in his conscience by the cruelties of vitry, and was anxious to make the only reparation which the religion of that day considered sufficient. he was desirous moreover of testifying to the world, that though he could brave the temporal power of the church when it encroached upon his prerogatives, he could render all due obedience to its spiritual decrees whenever it suited his interest or tallied with his prejudices to so do. suger, therefore, implored in vain, and louis received the pilgrim's staff at st. denis, and made all preparations for his pilgrimage. in the mean time st. bernard passed into germany, where similar success attended his preaching. the renown of his sanctity had gone before him, and he found everywhere an admiring audience. thousands of people, who could not understand a word he said, flocked around him to catch a glimpse of so holy a man; and the knights enrolled themselves in great numbers in the service of the cross, each receiving from his hands the symbol of the cause. but the people were not led away as in the days of gottschalk. we do not find that they rose in such tremendous masses of two and three hundred thousand men, swarming over the country like a plague of locusts. still the enthusiasm was very great. the extraordinary tales that were told and believed of the miracles worked by the preacher brought the country people from far and near. devils were said to vanish at his sight, and diseases of the most malignant nature to be cured by his touch. [philip, archdeacon of the cathedral of liege, wrote a detailed account of all the miracles performed by st. bernard during thirty-four days of his mission. they averaged about ten per day. the disciples of st. bernard complained bitterly that the people flocked around their master in such numbers, that they could not see half the miracles he performed. but they willingly trusted the eyes of others, as far as faith in the miracles went, and seemed to vie with each other whose credulity should be greatest.] the emperor conrad caught at last the contagion from his subjects, and declared his intention to follow the cross. the preparations were carried on so vigorously under the orders of conrad, that in less than three months he found himself at the head of an army containing at least one hundred and fifty thousand effective men, besides a great number of women who followed their husbands and lovers to the war. one troop of them rode in the attitude and armour of men: their chief wore gilt spurs and buskins, and thence acquired the epithet of the golden-footed lady. conrad was ready to set out long before the french monarch, and in the month of june , he arrived before constantinople, having passed through hungary and bulgaria without offence to the inhabitants. manuel comnenus, the greek emperor, successor not only to the throne, but to the policy of alexius, looked with alarm upon the new levies who had come to eat up his capital and imperil its tranquillity. too weak to refuse them a passage through his dominions, too distrustful of them to make them welcome when they came, and too little assured of the advantages likely to result to himself from the war, to feign a friendship which he did not feel, the greek emperor gave offence at the very outset. his subjects, in the pride of superior civilization, called the germans barbarians, while the latter, who, if semi-barbarous, were at least honest and straight-forward, retorted upon the greeks by calling them double-faced knaves and traitors. disputes continually arose between them, and conrad, who had preserved so much good order among his followers during their passage, was unable to restrain their indignation when they arrived at constantinople. for some offence or other which the greeks had given them, but which is rather hinted at than stated by the scanty historians of the day, the germans broke into the magnificent pleasure garden of the emperor, where he had a valuable collection of tame animals, for which the grounds had been laid out in woods, caverns, groves, and streams, that each might follow in captivity his natural habits. the enraged germans, meriting the name of barbarians that had been bestowed upon them, laid waste this pleasant retreat, and killed or let loose the valuable animals it contained. manuel, who is said to have beheld the devastation from his palace windows without power or courage to prevent it, was completely disgusted with his guests, and resolved, like his predecessor alexius, to get rid of them on the first opportunity. he sent a message to conrad respectfully desiring an interview, but the german refused to trust himself within the walls of constantinople. the greek emperor, on his part, thought it compatible neither with his dignity nor his safety to seek the german, and several days were spent in insincere negotiations. manuel at length agreed to furnish the crusading army with guides to conduct it through asia minor; and conrad passed over the hellespont with his forces, the advanced guard being commanded by himself, and the rear by the warlike bishop of freysinghen. historians are almost unanimous in their belief that the wily greek gave instructions to his guides to lead the army of the german emperor into dangers and difficulties. it is certain, that instead of guiding them through such districts of asia minor as afforded water and provisions, they led them into the wilds of cappadocia, where neither was to be procured, and where they were suddenly attacked by the sultaun of the seljukian turks, at the head of an immense force. the guides, whose treachery is apparent from this fact alone, fled at the first sight of the turkish army, and the christians were left to wage unequal warfare with their enemy, entangled and bewildered in desert wilds. toiling in their heavy mail, the germans could make but little effective resistance to the attacks of the turkish light horse, who were down upon them one instant, and out of sight the next. now in the front and now in the rear, the agile foe showered his arrows upon them, enticing them into swamps and hollows, from which they could only extricate themselves after long struggles and great losses. the germans, confounded by this mode of warfare, lost all conception of the direction they were pursuing, and went back instead of forward. suffering at the same time for want of provisions, they fell an easy prey to their pursuers. count bernhard, one of the bravest leaders of the german expedition, was surrounded, with his whole division, not one of whom escaped the turkish arrows. the emperor himself had nearly fallen a victim, and was twice severely wounded. so persevering was the enemy, and so little able were the germans to make even a show of resistance, that when conrad at last reached the city of nice, he found that, instead of being at the head of an imposing force of one hundred thousand foot and seventy thousand horse, he had but fifty or sixty thousand men, and these in the most worn and wearied condition. totally ignorant of the treachery of the greek emperor, although he had been warned to beware of it, louis vii. proceeded, at the head of his army, through worms and ratisbon, towards constantinople. at ratisbon he was met by a deputation from manuel, bearing letters so full of hyperbole and flattery, that louis is reported to have blushed when they were read to him by the bishop of langres. the object of the deputation was to obtain from the french king a promise to pass through the grecian territories in a peaceable and friendly manner, and to yield to the greek emperor any conquest he might make in asia minor. the first part of the proposition was immediately acceded to, but no notice was taken of the second and more unreasonable. louis marched on, and, passing through hungary, pitched his tents in the outskirts of constantinople. on his arrival, manuel sent him a friendly invitation to enter the city, at the head of a small train. louis at once accepted it, and was met by the emperor at the porch of his palace. the fairest promises were made; every art that flattery could suggest was resorted to, and every argument employed, to induce him to yield his future conquests to the greek. louis obstinately refused to pledge himself, and returned to his army, convinced that the emperor was a man not to be trusted. negotiations were, however, continued for several days, to the great dissatisfaction of the french army. the news that arrived of a treaty entered into between manuel and the turkish sultan changed their dissatisfaction into fury, and the leaders demanded to be led against constantinople, swearing that they would raze the treacherous city to the ground. louis did not feel inclined to accede to this proposal, and, breaking up his camp, he crossed over into asia. here he heard, for the first time, of the mishaps of the german emperor, whom he found in a woeful plight under the walls of nice. the two monarchs united their forces, and marched together along the sea-coast to ephesus; but conrad, jealous, it would appear, of the superior numbers of the french, and not liking to sink into a vassal, for the time being, of his rival, withdrew abruptly with the remnant of his legions, and returned to constantinople. manuel was all smiles and courtesy. he condoled with the german so feelingly upon his losses, and cursed the stupidity or treachery of the guides with such apparent heartiness, that conrad was half inclined to believe in his sincerity. louis, marching onward in the direction of jerusalem, came up with the enemy on the banks of the meander. the turks contested the passage of the river, but the french bribed a peasant to point out a ford lower down: crossing the river without difficulty, they attacked the turks with much vigour, and put them to flight. whether the turks were really defeated, or merely pretended to be so, is doubtful; but the latter supposition seems to be the true one. it is probable that it was part of a concerted plan to draw the invaders onwards to more unfavourable ground, where their destruction might be more certain. if such were the scheme, it succeeded to the heart's wish of its projectors. the crusaders, on the third day after their victory, arrived at a steep mountain-pass, on the summit of which the turkish host lay concealed so artfully, that not the slightest vestige of their presence could be perceived. "with labouring steps and slow," they toiled up the steep ascent, when suddenly a tremendous fragment of rock came bounding down the precipices with an awful crash, bearing dismay and death before it. at the same instant the turkish archers started from their hiding-places, and discharged a shower of arrows upon the foot soldiers, who fell by hundreds at a time. the arrows rebounded harmlessly against the iron mail of the knights, which the turks observing, took aim at their steeds, and horse and rider fell down the steep into the rapid torrent which rushed below. louis, who commanded the rear-guard, received the first intimation of the onslaught from the sight of his wounded and flying soldiers, and, not knowing the numbers of the enemy, he pushed vigorously forward to stay, by his presence, the panic which had taken possession of his army. all his efforts were in vain. immense stones continued to be hurled upon them as they advanced, bearing men and horse before them; and those who succeeded in forcing their way to the top, were met hand-to-hand by the turks, and cast down headlong upon their companions. louis himself fought with the energy of desperation, but had great difficulty to avoid falling into the enemy's hands. he escaped at last under cover of the night, with the remnant of his forces, and took up his position before attalia. here he restored the discipline and the courage of his disorganized and disheartened followers, and debated with his captains the plan that was to be pursued. after suffering severely both from disease and famine, it was resolved that they should march to antioch, which still remained an independent principality under the successors of bohemund of tarentum. at this time the sovereignty was vested in the person of raymond, the uncle of eleanor of aquitaine. this prince, presuming upon his relationship to the french queen, endeavoured to withdraw louis from the grand object of the crusade--the defence of the kingdom of jerusalem, and secure his co-operation in extending the limits and the power of his principality of antioch. the prince of tripoli formed a similar design, but louis rejected the offers of both, and marched after a short delay to jerusalem. the emperor conrad was there before him, having left constantinople with promises of assistance from manuel comnenus; assistance which never arrived, and was never intended. a great council of the christian princes of palestine and the leaders of the crusade was then summoned, to discuss the future operations of the war. it was ultimately determined that it would further the cause of the cross in a greater degree if the united armies, instead of proceeding to edessa, laid siege to the city of damascus, and drove the saracens from that strong position. this was a bold scheme, and, had it been boldly followed out, would have insured, in all probability, the success of the war. but the christian leaders never learned from experience the necessity of union, that very soul of great enterprises. though they all agreed upon the policy of the plan, yet every one had his own notions as to the means of executing it. the princes of antioch and tripoli were jealous of each other, and of the king of jerusalem. the emperor conrad was jealous of the king of france, and the king of france was disgusted with them all. but he had come out to palestine in accordance with a solemn vow; his religion, though it may be called bigotry, was sincere; and he determined to remain to the very last moment that a chance was left, of effecting any good for the cause he had set his heart on. the siege of damascus was accordingly commenced, and with so much ability and vigour that the christians gained a considerable advantage at the very outset. for weeks the siege was pressed, till the shattered fortifications and diminishing resistance of the besieged gave evidence that the city could not hold out much longer. at that moment the insane jealousy of the leaders led to dissensions that soon caused the utter failure, not only of the siege, but of the crusade. a modern cookery-book, in giving a recipe for cooking a hare, says, "first catch your hare, and then kill it;" a maxim of indisputable wisdom. the christian chiefs on this occasion had not so much sagacity, for they began a violent dispute among themselves for the possession of a city which was still unconquered. there being already a prince of antioch and a prince of tripoli, twenty claimants started for the principality of damascus, and a grand council of the leaders was held to determine the individual on whom the honour should devolve. many valuable days were wasted in this discussion, the enemy in the mean while gaining strength from their inactivity. it was at length, after a stormy deliberation, agreed that count robert of flanders, who had twice visited the holy land, should be invested with the dignity. the other claimants refused to recognise him, or to co-operate in the siege, until a more equitable arrangement had been made. suspicion filled the camp; the most sinister rumours of intrigues and treachery were set afloat; and the discontented candidates withdrew at last to the other side of the city, and commenced operations on their own account, without a probability of success. they were soon joined by the rest of the army. the consequence was that the weakest side of the city, and that on which they had already made considerable progress in the work of demolition, was left uncovered. the enemy was prompt to profit by the mistake, and received an abundant supply of provisions, and refortified the walls, before the crusaders came to their senses again. when this desirable event happened, it was too late. saph eddin, the powerful emir of mousoul, was in the neighbourhood, at the head of a large army, advancing by forced marches to the relief of the city. the siege was abruptly abandoned, and the foolish crusaders returned to jerusalem, having done nothing to weaken the enemy, but every thing to weaken themselves. the freshness of enthusiasm had now completely subsided;--even the meanest soldiers were sick at heart. conrad, from whose fierce zeal at the outset so much might have been expected, was wearied with reverses, and returned to europe with the poor remnant of his host. louis lingered a short time longer, for very shame, but the pressing solicitations of his minister suger induced him to return to france. thus ended the second crusade. its history is but a chronicle of defeats. it left the kingdom of jerusalem in a worse state than when it quitted europe, and gained nothing but disgrace for its leaders and discouragement for all concerned. st. bernard, who had prophesied a result so different, fell after this into some disrepute, and experienced, like many other prophets, the fate of being without honour in his own country. what made the matter worse, he could not obtain it in any other. still, however, there were not wanting zealous advocates to stand forward in his behalf, and stem the tide of incredulity, which, unopposed, would have carried away his reputation. the bishop of freysinghen declared that prophets were not always able to prophesy, and that the vices of the crusaders drew down the wrath of heaven upon them. but the most ingenious excuse ever made for st. bernard is to be found in his life by geoffroi de clairvaux, where he pertinaciously insists that the crusade was not unfortunate. st. bernard, he says, had prophesied a happy result, and that result could not be considered other than happy which had peopled heaven with so glorious an army of martyrs. geoffroi was a cunning pleader, and, no doubt, convinced a few of the zealous; but plain people, who were not wanting even in those days, retained their own opinion, or, what amounts to the same thing, "were convinced against their will." we now come to the consideration of the third crusade, and of the causes which rendered it necessary. the epidemic frenzy, which had been cooling ever since the issue of the first expedition, was now extinct, or very nearly so, and the nations of europe looked with cold indifference upon the armaments of their princes. but chivalry had flourished in its natural element of war, and was now in all its glory. it continued to supply armies for the holy land when the popular ranks refused to deliver up their able-bodied swarms. poetry, which, more than religion, inspired the third crusade, was then but "caviare to the million," who had other matters, of sterner import, to claim all their attention. but the knights and their retainers listened with delight to the martial and amatory strains of the minstrels, minnesangers, trouveres, and troubadours, and burned to win favour in ladies' eyes by showing prowess in holy land. the third was truly the romantic era of the crusades. men fought then, not so much for the sepulchre of jesus, and the maintenance of a christian kingdom in the east, as to gain glory for themselves in the best, and almost only field, where glory could be obtained. they fought, not as zealots, but as soldiers; not for religion, but for honour; not for the crown of martyrdom, but for the favour of the lovely. it is not necessary to enter into a detail of the events by which saladin attained the sovereignty of the east, or how, after a succession of engagements, he planted the moslem banner once more upon the battlements of jerusalem. the christian knights and population, including the grand orders of st. john, the hospitallers, and the templars, were sunk in an abyss of vice, and torn by unworthy jealousies and dissensions, were unable to resist the well-trained armies which the wise and mighty saladin brought forward to crush them. but the news of their fall created a painful sensation among the chivalry of europe, whose noblest members were linked to the dwellers in palestine by many ties, both of blood and friendship. the news of the great battle of tiberias, in which saladin defeated the christian host with terrible slaughter, arrived first in europe, and was followed in quick succession by that of the capture of jerusalem, antioch, tripoli, and other cities. dismay seized upon the clergy. the pope (urban iii.) was so affected by the news that he pined away for grief, and was scarcely seen to smile again, until he sank into the sleep of death. [james of vitry--william de nangis.] his successor, gregory viii. felt the loss as acutely, but had better strength to bear it, and instructed all the clergy of the christian world to stir up the people to arms for the recovery of the holy sepulchre. william, archbishop of tyre, a humble follower in the path of peter the hermit, left palestine to preach to the kings of europe the miseries he had witnessed, and to incite them to the rescue. the renowned frederick barbarossa, the emperor of germany, speedily collected an army, and passing over into syria with less delay than had ever before awaited a crusading force, defeated the saracens, and took possession of the city of iconium. he was unfortunately cut off in the middle of his successful career, by imprudently bathing in the cydnus [the desire of comparing two great men has tempted many writers to drown frederick in the river cydnus, in which alexander so imprudently bathed (q. curt. lib. iii. c. , .): but, from the march of the emperor, i rather judge that his saleph is the calycadnus, a stream of less fame, but of a longer course.--gibbon] while he was overheated, and the duke of suabia took the command of the expedition. the latter did not prove so able a general, and met with nothing but reverses, although he was enabled to maintain a footing at antioch until assistance arrived from europe. henry ii. of england and philip augustus of france, at the head of their chivalry, supported the crusade with all their influence, until wars and dissensions nearer home estranged them from it for a time. the two kings met at gisors in normandy in the month of january , accompanied by a brilliant train of knights and warriors. william of tyre was present, and expounded the cause of the cross with considerable eloquence, and the whole assembly bound themselves by oath to proceed to jerusalem. it was agreed at the same time that a tax, called saladin's tithe, and consisting of the tenth part of all possessions, whether landed or personal, should be enforced over christendom, upon every one who was either unable or unwilling to assume the cross. the lord of every feof, whether lay or ecclesiastical, was charged to raise the tithe within his own jurisdiction; and any one who refused to pay his quota, became by that act the bondsman and absolute property of his lord. at the same time the greatest indulgence was shown to those who assumed the cross; no man was at liberty to stay them by process of any kind, whether for debt, or robbery, or murder. the king of france, at the breaking up of the conference, summoned a parliament at paris, where these resolutions were solemnly confirmed, while henry ii. did the same for his norman possessions at rouen, and for england at geddington, in northamptonshire. to use the words of an ancient chronicler, [stowe.] "he held a parliament about the voyage into the holy land, and troubled the whole land with the paying of tithes towards it." but it was not england only that was "troubled" by the tax. the people of france also looked upon it with no pleasant feelings, and appear from that time forth to have changed their indifference for the crusade into aversion. even the clergy, who were exceedingly willing that other people should contribute half, or even all their goods in furtherance of their favourite scheme, were not at all anxious to contribute a single sous themselves. millot ["elemens de l'histoire de france."] relates that several of them cried out against the impost. among the rest the clergy of rheims were called upon to pay their quota, but sent a deputation to the king, begging him to be contented with the aid of their prayers, as they were too poor to contribute in any other shape. philip augustus knew better, and by way of giving them a lesson, employed three nobles of the vicinity to lay waste the church lands. the clergy, informed of the outrage, applied to the king for redress. "i will aid you with my prayers," said the monarch condescendingly, "and will intreat those gentlemen to let the church alone." he did as he had promised, but in such a manner, that the nobles, who appreciated the joke, continued their devastations as before. again the clergy applied to the king. "what would you have of me?" he replied, in answer to their remonstrances: "you gave me your prayers in my necessity, and i have given you mine in yours." the clergy understood the argument, and thought it the wiser course to pay their quota of saladin's tithe without further parley. this anecdote shows the unpopularity of the crusade. if the clergy disliked to contribute, it is no wonder that the people felt still greater antipathy. but the chivalry of europe was eager for the affray: the tithe was rigorously collected, and armies from england, france, burgundy, italy, flanders, and germany, were soon in the field; the two kings who were to have led it, were, however, drawn into broils by an aggression of richard; duke of guienne, better known as richard coeur de lion, upon the territory of the count of toulouse, and the proposed journey to palestine was delayed. war continued to rage between france and england, and with so little probability of a speedy termination, that many of the nobles, bound to the crusade, left the two monarchs to settle their differences at their leisure, and proceeded to palestine without them. death at last stepped in and removed henry ii. from the hostility of his foes, and the treachery and ingratitude of his children. his son richard immediately concluded an alliance with philip augustus, and the two young, valiant, and impetuous monarchs, united all their energies to forward the crusade. they met with a numerous and brilliant retinue at nonancourt in normandy, where, in sight of their assembled chivalry, they embraced as brothers, and swore to live as friends and true allies, until a period of forty days after their return from the holy land. with a view of purging their camp from the follies and vices which had proved so ruinous to preceding expeditions, they drew up a code of laws for the government of the army. gambling had been carried to a great extent, and had proved the fruitful source of quarrels and bloodshed, and one of their laws prohibited any person in the army, beneath the degree of a knight, from playing at any game for money. [strutt's "sports and pastimes."] knights and clergymen might play for money, but no one was permitted to lose or gain more than twenty shillings in a day, under a penalty of one hundred shillings. the personal attendants of the monarchs were also allowed to play to the same extent. the penalty in their case for infraction was that they should be whipped naked through the army for the space of three days. any crusader, who struck another and drew blood, was ordered to have his hand cut off; and whoever slew a brother crusader was condemned to be tied alive to the corpse of his victim and buried with him. no young women were allowed to follow the army, to the great sorrow of many vicious and of many virtuous dames, who had not courage to elude the decree by dressing in male attire. but many high-minded and affectionate maidens and matrons, bearing the sword or the spear, followed their husbands and lovers to the war in spite of king richard, and in defiance of danger. the only women allowed to accompany the army in their own habiliments, were washerwomen, of fifty years complete, and any others of the fair sex who had reached the same age. these rules having been promulgated, the two monarchs marched together to lyons, where they separated, agreeing to meet again at messina. philip proceeded across the alps to genoa, where he took ship, and was conveyed in safety to the place of rendezvous. richard turned in the direction of marseilles, where he also took ship for messina. his impetuous disposition hurried him into many squabbles by the way, and his knights and followers, for the most part as brave and as foolish as himself, imitated him very zealously in this particular. at messina the sicilians charged the most exorbitant prices for every necessary of life. richard's army in vain remonstrated. from words they came to blows, and, as a last resource, plundered the sicilians, since they could not trade with them. continual battles were the consequence, in one of which lebrun, the favourite attendant of richard, lost his life. the peasantry from far and near came flocking to the aid of the townspeople, and the battle soon became general. richard, irritated at the loss of his favourite, and incited by a report that tancred, the king of sicily, was fighting at the head of his own people, joined the melee with his boldest knights, and, beating back the sicilians, attacked the city, sword in hand, stormed the battlements, tore down the flag of sicily, and planted his own in its stead. this collision gave great offence to the king of france, who became from that time jealous of richard, and apprehensive that his design was not so much to re-establish the christian kingdom of jerusalem, as to make conquests for himself. he, however, exerted his influence to restore peace between the english and sicilians, and shortly afterwards set sail for acre, with distrust of his ally germinating in his heart. richard remained behind for some weeks, in a state of inactivity quite unaccountable in one of his temperament. he appears to have had no more squabbles with the sicilians, but to have lived an easy luxurious life, forgetting, in the lap of pleasure, the objects for which he had quitted his own dominions and the dangerous laxity he was introducing into his army. the superstition of his soldiers recalled him at length to a sense of his duty: a comet was seen for several successive nights, which was thought to menace them with the vengeance of heaven for their delay. shooting stars gave them similar warning; and a fanatic, of the name of joachim, with his drawn sword in his hand, and his long hair streaming wildly over his shoulders, went through the camp, howling all night long, and predicting plague, famine, and every other calamity, if they did not set out immediately. richard did not deem it prudent to neglect the intimations; and, after doing humble penance for his remissness, he set sail for acre. a violent storm dispersed his fleet, but he arrived safely at rhodes with the principal part of the armament. here he learned that three of his ships had been stranded on the rocky coasts of cyprus, and that the ruler of the island, isaac comnenus, had permitted his people to pillage the unfortunate crews, and had refused shelter to his betrothed bride, the princess berengaria, and his sister, who, in one of the vessels, had been driven by stress of weather into the port of limisso. the fiery monarch swore to be revenged, and, collecting all his vessels, sailed back to limisso. isaac comnenus refused to apologize or explain, and richard, in no mood to be trifled with, landed on the island, routed with great loss the forces sent to oppose him, and laid the whole country under contribution. on his arrival at acre, he found the whole of the chivalry of europe there before him. guy of lusignan, the king of jerusalem, had long before collected the bold knights of the temple, the hospital, and st. john, and had laid siege to acre, which was resolutely defended by the sultan saladin, with an army magnificent both for its numbers and its discipline. for nearly two years the crusaders had pushed the siege, and made efforts almost superhuman to dislodge the enemy. various battles had taken place in the open fields with no decisive advantage to either party, and guy of lusignan had begun to despair of taking that strong position without aid from europe. his joy was extreme on the arrival of philip with all his chivalry, and he only awaited the coming of coeur de lion to make one last decisive attack upon the town. when the fleet of england was first seen approaching the shores of syria, a universal shout arose from the christian camp; and when richard landed with his train, one louder still pierced to the very mountains of the south, where saladin lay with all his army. it may be remarked as characteristic of this crusade, that the christians and the moslems no longer looked upon each other as barbarians, to whom mercy was a crime. each host entertained the highest admiration for the bravery and magnanimity of the other, and in their occasional truces met upon the most friendly terms. the moslem warriors were full of courtesy to the christian knights, and had no other regret than to think that such fine fellows were not mahomedans. the christians, with a feeling precisely similar, extolled to the skies the nobleness of the saracens, and sighed to think that such generosity and valour should be sullied by disbelief in the gospel of jesus. but when the strife began, all these feelings disappeared, and the struggle became mortal. the jealousy excited in the mind of philip by the events of messina still rankled, and the two monarchs refused to act in concert. instead of making a joint attack upon the town, the french monarch assailed it alone, and was repulsed. richard did the same, and with the same result. philip tried to seduce the soldiers of richard from their allegiance by the offer of three gold pieces per month to every knight who would forsake the banners of england for those of france. richard met the bribe by another, and promised four pieces to every french knight who should join the lion of england. in this unworthy rivalry their time was wasted, to the great detriment of the discipline and efficiency of their followers. some good was nevertheless effected; for the mere presence of two such armies prevented the besieged city from receiving supplies, and the inhabitants were reduced by famine to the most woeful straits. saladin did not deem it prudent to risk a general engagement by coming to their relief, but preferred to wait till dissension had weakened his enemy, and made him an easy prey. perhaps if he had been aware of the real extent of the extremity in acre, he would have changed his plan; but, cut off from the town, he did not know their misery till it was too late. after a short truce the city capitulated upon terms so severe that saladin afterwards refused to ratify them. the chief conditions were, that the precious wood of the true cross, captured by the moslems in jerusalem, should be restored; that a sum of two hundred thousand gold pieces should be paid; and that all the christian prisoners in acre should be released, together with two hundred knights and a thousand soldiers, detained in captivity by saladin. the eastern monarch, as may be well conceived, did not set much store on the wood of the cross, but was nevertheless anxious to keep it, as he knew its possession by the christians would do more than a victory to restore their courage. he refused, therefore, to deliver it up, or to accede to any of the conditions; and richard, as he had previously threatened, barbarously ordered all the saracen prisoners in his power to be put to death. the possession of the city only caused new and unhappy dissensions between the christian leaders. the archduke of austria unjustifiably hoisted his flag on one of the towers of acre, which richard no sooner saw than he tore it down with his own hands, and trampled it under his feet. philip, though he did not sympathise with the archduke, was piqued at the assumption of richard, and the breach between the two monarchs became wider than ever. a foolish dispute arose at the same time between guy of lusignan and conrad of montferrat for the crown of jerusalem. the inferior knights were not slow to imitate the pernicious example, and jealousy, distrust, and ill-will reigned in the christian camp. in the midst of this confusion the king of france suddenly announced his intention to return to his own country. richard was filled with indignation, and exclaimed, "eternal shame light on him, and on all france, if, for any cause, he leave this work unfinished!" but philip was not to be stayed. his health had suffered by his residence in the east, and, ambitious of playing a first part, he preferred to play none at all, than to play second to king richard. leaving a small detachment of burgundians behind, he returned to france with the remainder of his army; and coeur de lion, without feeling, in the multitude of his rivals, that he had lost the greatest, became painfully convinced that the right arm of the enterprize was lopped off. after his departure, richard re-fortified acre, restored the christian worship in the churches, and, leaving a christian garrison to protect it, marched along the sea-coast towards ascalon. saladin was on the alert, and sent his light horse to attack the rear of the christian army, while he himself, miscalculating their weakness since the defection of philip, endeavoured to force them to a general engagement. the rival armies met near azotus. a fierce battle ensued, in which saladin was defeated and put to flight, and the road to jerusalem left free for the crusaders. again discord exerted its baleful influence, and prevented richard from following up his victory. his opinion was constantly opposed by the other leaders, all jealous of his bravery and influence; and the army, instead of marching to jerusalem, or even to ascalon, as was first intended, proceeded to jaffa, and remained in idleness until saladin was again in a condition to wage war against them. many months were spent in fruitless hostilities and as fruitless negotiations. richard's wish was to recapture jerusalem; but there were difficulties in the way, which even his bold spirit could not conquer. his own intolerable pride was not the least cause of the evil; for it estranged many a generous spirit, who would have been willing to co-operate with him in all cordiality. at length it was agreed to march to the holy city; but the progress made was so slow and painful, that the soldiers murmured, and the leaders meditated retreat. the weather was hot and dry, and there was little water to be procured. saladin had choked up the wells and cisterns on the route, and the army had not zeal enough to push forward amid such privation. at bethlehem a council was held, to debate whether they should retreat or advance. retreat was decided upon, and immediately commenced. it is said, that richard was first led to a hill, whence he could obtain a sight of the towers of jerusalem, and that he was so affected at being so near it, and so unable to relieve it, that he hid his face behind his shield, and sobbed aloud. the army separated into two divisions, the smaller falling back upon jaffa, and the larger, commanded by richard and the duke of burgundy, returning to acre. before the english monarch had made all his preparations for his return to europe, a messenger reached acre with the intelligence that jaffa was besieged by saladin, and that, unless relieved immediately, the city would be taken. the french, under the duke of burgundy, were so wearied with the war, that they refused to aid their brethren in jaffa. richard, blushing with shame at their pusillanimity, called his english to the rescue, and arrived just in time to save the city. his very name put the saracens to flight, so great was their dread of his prowess. saladin regarded him with the warmest admiration, and when richard, after his victory, demanded peace, willingly acceded. a truce was concluded for three years and eight months, during which christian pilgrims were to enjoy the liberty of visiting jerusalem without hindrance or payment of any tax. the crusaders were allowed to retain the cities of tyre and jaffa, with the country intervening. saladin, with a princely generosity, invited many of the christians to visit jerusalem; and several of the leaders took advantage of his offer to feast their eyes upon a spot which all considered so sacred. many of them were entertained for days in the sultan's own palace, from which they returned with their tongues laden with the praises of the noble infidel. richard and saladin never met, though the impression that they did will remain on many minds, who have been dazzled by the glorious fiction of sir walter scott. but each admired the prowess and nobleness of soul of his rival, and agreed to terms far less onerous than either would have accepted, had this mutual admiration not existed.[richard left a high reputation in palestine. so much terror did his name occasion, that the women of syria used it to frighten their children for ages afterwards. every disobedient brat became still when told that king richard was coming. even men shared the panic that his name created; and a hundred years afterwards, whenever a horse shied at any object in the way, his rider would exclaim, "what! dost thou think king richard is in the bush?"] the king of england no longer delayed his departure, for messengers from his own country brought imperative news that his presence was required to defeat the intrigues that were fomenting against his crown. his long imprisonment in the austrian dominions and final ransom are too well known to be dwelt upon. and thus ended the third crusade, less destructive of human life than the two first, but quite as useless. the flame of popular enthusiasm now burned pale indeed, and all the efforts of popes and potentates were insufficient to rekindle it. at last, after flickering unsteadily, like a lamp expiring in the socket, it burned up brightly for one final instant, and was extinguished for ever. the fourth crusade, as connected with popular feeling, requires little or no notice. at the death of saladin, which happened a year after the conclusion of his truce with richard of england, his vast empire fell to pieces. his brother saif eddin, or saphaddin, seized upon syria, in the possession of which he was troubled by the sons of saladin. when this intelligence reached europe, the pope, celestine iii. judged the moment favourable for preaching a new crusade. but every nation in europe was unwilling and cold towards it. the people had no ardour, and kings were occupied with more weighty matters at home. the only monarch of europe who encouraged it was the emperor henry of germany, under whose auspices the dukes of saxony and bavaria took the field at the head of a considerable force. they landed in palestine, and found anything but a welcome from the christian inhabitants. under the mild sway of saladin, they had enjoyed repose and toleration, and both were endangered by the arrival of the germans. they looked upon them in consequence as over-officious intruders, and gave them no encouragement in the warfare against saphaddin. the result of this crusade was even more disastrous than the last--for the germans contrived not only to embitter the saracens against the christians of judea, but to lose the strong city of jaffa, and cause the destruction of nine-tenths of the army with which they had quitted europe. and so ended the fourth crusade. the fifth was more important, and had a result which its projectors never dreamed of--no less than the sacking of constantinople, and the placing of a french dynasty upon the imperial throne of the eastern caesars. each succeeding pope, however much he may have differed from his predecessors on other points, zealously agreed in one, that of maintaining by every possible means the papal ascendancy. no scheme was so likely to aid in this endeavour as the crusades. as long as they could persuade the kings and nobles of europe to fight and die in syria, their own sway was secured over the minds of men at home. such being their object, they never inquired whether a crusade was or was not likely to be successful, whether the time were well or ill chosen, or whether men and money could be procured in sufficient abundance. pope innocent iii. would have been proud if he could have bent the refractory monarchs of england and france into so much submission. but john and philip augustus were both engaged. both had deeply offended the church, and had been laid under her ban, and both were occupied in important reforms at home; philip in bestowing immunities upon his subjects, and john in having them forced from him. the emissaries of the pope therefore plied them in vain;--but as in the first and second crusades, the eloquence of a powerful preacher incited the nobility, and through them a certain portion of the people, foulque, bishop of neuilly, an ambitious and enterprizing prelate, entered fully into the views of the court of rome, and preached the crusade wherever he could find an audience. chance favoured him to a degree he did not himself expect, for he had in general found but few proselytes, and those few but cold in the cause. theobald, count of champagne, had instituted a grand tournament, to which he had invited all the nobles from far and near. upwards of two thousand knights were present with their retainers, besides a vast concourse of people to witness the sports. in the midst of the festivities foulque arrived upon the spot, and conceiving the opportunity to be a favourable one, he addressed the multitude in eloquent language, and passionately called upon them to enrol themselves for the new crusade. the count de champagne, young, ardent, and easily excited, received the cross at his hands. the enthusiasm spread rapidly. charles count of blois followed the example, and of the two thousand knights present, scarcely one hundred and fifty refused. the popular phrensy seemed on the point of breaking out as in the days of yore. the count of flanders, the count of bar, the duke of burgundy, and the marquis of montferrat, brought all their vassals to swell the train, and in a very short space of time an effective army was on foot and ready to march to palestine. the dangers of an overland journey were too well understood, and the crusaders endeavoured to make a contract with some of the italian states to convey them over in their vessels. dandolo, the aged doge of venice, offered them the galleys of the republic; but the crusaders, on their arrival in that city, found themselves too poor to pay even half the sum demanded. every means was tried to raise money; the crusaders melted down their plate, and ladies gave up their trinkets. contributions were solicited from the faithful, but came in so slowly, as to make it evident to all concerned, that the faithful of europe were outnumbered by the prudent. as a last resource, dandolo offered to convey them to palestine at the expense of the republic, if they would previously aid in the recapture of the city of zara, which had been seized from the venetians a short time previously by the king of hungary. the crusaders consented, much to the displeasure of the pope, who threatened excommunication upon all who should be turned aside from the voyage to jerusalem. but notwithstanding the fulminations of the church, the expedition never reached palestine. the siege of zara was speedily undertaken. after a long and brave defence, the city surrendered at discretion, and the crusaders were free, if they had so chosen it, to use their swords against the saracens. but the ambition of the chiefs had been directed, by unforeseen circumstances, elsewhere. after the death of manuel comnenus, the greek empire had fallen a prey to intestine divisions. his son alexius ii. had succeeded him, but was murdered after a very short reign by his uncle andronicus, who seized upon the throne. his reign also was but of short duration. isaac angelus, a member of the same family, took up arms against the usurper, and having defeated and captured him in a pitched battle, had him put to death. he also mounted the throne only to be cast down from it. his brother alexius deposed him, and to incapacitate him from reigning, put out his eyes, and shut him up in a dungeon. neither was alexius iii. allowed to remain in peaceable possession of the throne; the son of the unhappy isaac, whose name also was alexius, fled from constantinople, and hearing that the crusaders had undertaken the siege of zara, made them the most magnificent offers if they would afterwards aid him in deposing his uncle. his offers were, that if by their means he was re-established in his father's dominions, he would place the greek church under the authority of the pope of rome, lend the whole force of the greek empire to the conquest of palestine, and distribute two hundred thousand marks of silver among the crusading army. the offer was accepted, with a proviso on the part of some of the leaders, that they should be free to abandon the design, if it met with the disapproval of the pope. but this was not to be feared. the submission of the schismatic greeks to the see of rome was a greater bribe to the pontiff, than the utter annihilation of the saracen power in palestine would have been. the crusaders were soon in movement for the imperial city. their operations were skilfully and courageously directed, and spread such dismay as to paralyse the efforts of the usurper to retain possession of his throne. after a vain resistance, he abandoned the city to its fate, and fled no one knew whither. the aged and blind isaac was taken from his dungeon by his subjects, and placed upon the throne ere the crusaders were apprized of the flight of his rival. his son alexius iv. was afterwards associated with him in the sovereignty. but the conditions of the treaty gave offence to the grecian people, whose prelates refused to place themselves under the dominion of the see of rome. alexius at first endeavoured to persuade his subjects to submission, and prayed the crusaders to remain in constantinople until they had fortified him in the possession of a throne which was yet far from secure. he soon became unpopular with his subjects; and breaking faith with regard to the subsidies, he offended the crusaders. war was at length declared upon him by both parties; by his people for his tyranny, and by his former friends for his treachery. he was seized in his palace by his own guards and thrown into prison, while the crusaders were making ready to besiege his capital. the greeks immediately proceeded to the election of a new monarch; and looking about for a man with courage, energy, and perseverance, they fixed upon alexius ducas, who, with almost every bad quality, was possessed of the virtues they needed. he ascended the throne under the name of murzuphlis. one of his first acts was to rid himself of his youngest predecessor--a broken heart had already removed the blind old isaac--no longer a stumbling block in his way--and the young alexius was soon after put to death in his prison. war to the knife was now declared between the greeks and the franks, and early in the spring of the year , preparations were commenced for an assault upon constantinople. the french and venetians entered into a treaty for the division of the spoils among their soldiery, for so confident were they of success, that failure never once entered into their calculations. this confidence led them on to victory, while the greeks, cowardly as treacherous people always are, were paralysed by a foreboding of evil. it has been a matter of astonishment to all historians, that murzuphlis, with the reputation for courage which he had acquired, and the immense resources at his disposal, took no better measures to repel the onset of the crusaders. their numbers were as a mere handful in comparison with those which he could have brought against them; and if they had the hopes of plunder to lead them on, the greeks had their homes to fight for, and their very existence as a nation to protect. after an impetuous assault, repulsed for one day, but renewed with double impetuosity on another, the crusaders lashed their vessels against the walls, slew every man who opposed them, and, with little loss to themselves, entered the city. murzuphlis fled, and constantinople was given over to be pillaged by the victors. the wealth they found was enormous. in money alone there was sufficient to distribute twenty marks of silver to each knight, ten to each squire or servant at arms, and five to each archer. jewels, velvets, silks, and every luxury of attire, with rare wines and fruits, and valuable merchandise of every description, also fell into their hands, and were bought by the trading venetians, and the proceeds distributed among the army. two thousand persons were put to the sword; but had there been less plunder to take up the attention of the victors, the slaughter would in all probability have been much greater. in many of the bloody wars which defile the page of history, we find that soldiers, utterly reckless of the works of god, will destroy his masterpiece, man, with unsparing brutality, but linger with respect around the beautiful works of art. they will slaughter women and children, but spare a picture; will hew down the sick, the helpless, and the hoary-headed, but refrain from injuring a fine piece of sculpture. the latins, on their entrance into constantinople, respected neither the works of god nor man, but vented their brutal ferocity upon the one and satisfied their avarice upon the other. many beautiful bronze statues, above all price as works of art, were broken into pieces to be sold as old metal. the finely-chiselled marble, which could be put to no such vile uses, was also destroyed, with a recklessness; if possible, still more atrocious. [the following is a list of some of the works of art thus destroyed, from nicetas, a contemporary greek author:-- st. a colossal juno, from the forum of constantine, the head of which was so large that four horses could scarcely draw it from the place where it stood to the palace. d. the statue of paris presenting the apple to venus. d. an immense bronze pyramid, crowned by a female figure, which turned with the wind. th. the colossal statue of bellerophon, in bronze, which was broken down and cast into the furnace. under the inner nail of the horse's hind foot on the left side, was found a seal wrapped in a woollen cloth. th. a figure of hercules, by lysimachus, of such vast dimensions that the thumb was equal in circumference to the waist of a man. th. the ass and his driver, cast by order of augustus after the battle of actium, in commemoration of his having discovered the position of antony through the means of an ass-driver. th. the wolf suckling the twins of rome. th. the gladiator in combat with a lion. th. the hippopotamus. th. the sphinxes. th. an eagle fighting with a serpent. th. a beautiful statue of helen. th. a group, with a monster somewhat resembling a bull, engaged in deadly conflict with a serpent; and many other works of art, too numerous to mention.] the carnage being over, and the spoil distributed, six persons were chosen from among the franks and six from among the venetians, who were to meet and elect an emperor, previously binding themselves by oath to select the individual best qualified among the candidates. the choice wavered between baldwin, count of flanders, and boniface, marquis of montferrat, but fell eventually upon the former. he was straightway robed in the imperial purple, and became the founder of a new dynasty. he did not live long to enjoy his power, or to consolidate it for his successors, who, in their turn, were soon swept away. in less than sixty years the rule of the franks at constantinople was brought to as sudden and disastrous a termination as the reign of murzuphlis: and this was the grand result of the fifth crusade. pope innocent iii, although he had looked with no very unfavourable eye upon these proceedings, regretted that nothing had been done for the relief of the holy land; still, upon every convenient occasion, he enforced the necessity of a new crusade. until the year , his exhortations had no other effect than to keep the subject in the mind of europe. every spring and summer, detachments of pilgrims continued to set out for palestine to the aid of their brethren, but not in sufficient numbers to be of much service. these periodical passages were called the passagiuum martii, or the passage of march, and the passagium johannis, or the passage of the festival of st. john. these did not consist entirely of soldiers, armed against the saracen, but of pilgrims led by devotion, and in performance of their vows, bearing nothing with them but their staff and their wallet. early in the spring of a more extraordinary body of crusaders was raised in france and germany. an immense number of boys and girls, amounting, according to some accounts, to thirty thousand, were incited by the persuasion of two monks to undertake the journey to palestine. they were, no doubt, composed of the idle and deserted children who generally swarm in great cities, nurtured in vice and daring, and ready for anything. the object of the monks seems to have been the atrocious one of inveigling them into slave ships, on pretence of sending them to syria, and selling them for slaves on the coast of africa. [see jacob de voragine and albericus.] great numbers of these poor victims were shipped at marseilles; but the vessels, with the exception of two or three, were wrecked on the shores of italy, and every soul perished. the remainder arrived safely in africa, and were bought up as slaves, and sent off into the interior of the country. another detachment arrived at genoa; but the accomplices in this horrid plot having taken no measures at that port, expecting them all at marseilles, they were induced to return to their homes by the genoese. fuller, in his quaint history of the "holy warre," says that this crusade was done by the instinct of the devil; and he adds a reason, which may provoke mirth now, but which was put forth by the worthy historian in all soberness and sincerity. he says, "the devil, being cloyed with the murdering of men, desired a cordial of children's blood to comfort his weak stomach;" as epicures, when tired of mutton, resort to lamb for a change. it appears from other authors that the preaching of the vile monks had such an effect upon these deluded children that they ran about the country, exclaiming, "o, lord jesus, restore thy cross to us!" and that neither bolts nor bars, the fear of fathers, nor the love of mothers, was sufficient to restrain them from journeying to jerusalem. the details of these strange proceedings are exceedingly meagre and confused, and none of the contemporary writers who mention the subject have thought it worth while to state the names of the monks who originated the scheme, or the fate they met for their wickedness. two merchants of marseilles, who were to have shared in the profits, were, it is said, brought to justice for some other crime, and suffered death; but we are not informed whether they divulged any circumstances relating to this matter. pope innocent iii does not seem to have been aware that the causes of this juvenile crusade were such as have been stated, for, upon being informed that numbers of them had taken the cross, and were marching to the holy land, he exclaimed, "these children are awake, while we sleep!" he imagined, apparently, that the mind of europe was still bent on the recovery of palestine, and that the zeal of these children implied a sort of reproach upon his own lukewarmness. very soon afterwards, he bestirred himself with more activity, and sent an encyclical letter to the clergy of christendom, urging them to preach a new crusade. as usual, a number of adventurous nobles, who had nothing else to do, enrolled themselves with their retainers. at a council of lateran, which was held while these bands were collecting, innocent announced that he himself would take the cross, and lead the armies of christ to the defence of his sepulchre. in all probability he would have done so, for he was zealous enough; but death stepped in, and destroyed his project ere it was ripe. his successor encouraged the crusade, though he refused to accompany it; and the armament continued in france, england, and germany. no leaders of any importance joined it from the former countries. andrew, king of hungary, was the only monarch who had leisure or inclination to leave his dominions. the dukes of austria and bavaria joined him with a considerable army of germans, and marching to spalatro, took ship for cyprus, and from thence to acre. the whole conduct of the king of hungary was marked by pusillanimity and irresolution. he found himself in the holy land at the head of a very efficient army; the saracens were taken by surprise, and were for some weeks unprepared to offer any resistance to his arms. he defeated the first body sent to oppose him, and marched towards mount tabor, with the intention of seizing upon an important fortress which the saracens had recently constructed. he arrived without impediment at the mount, and might have easily taken it; but a sudden fit of cowardice came over him, and he returned to acre without striking a blow. he very soon afterwards abandoned the enterprise altogether, and returned to his own country. tardy reinforcements arrived at intervals from europe; and the duke of austria, now the chief leader of the expedition, had still sufficient forces at his command to trouble the saracens very seriously. it was resolved by him, in council with the other chiefs, that the whole energy of the crusade should be directed upon egypt, the seat of the saracen power in its relationship to palestine, and from whence were drawn the continual levies that were brought against them by the sultan. damietta, which commanded the river nile, and was one of the most important cities of egypt, was chosen as the first point of attack. the siege was forthwith commenced, and carried on with considerable energy, until the crusaders gained possession of a tower, which projected into the middle of the stream, and was looked upon as the very key of the city. while congratulating themselves upon this success, and wasting in revelry the time which should have been employed in pushing the advantage, they received the news of the death of the wise sultan saphaddin. his two sons, camhel and cohreddin, divided his empire between them. syria and palestine fell to the share of cohreddin, while egypt was consigned to the other brother, who had for some time exercised the functions of lieutenant of that country. being unpopular among the egyptians, they revolted against him, giving the crusaders a finer opportunity for making a conquest than they had ever enjoyed before. but, quarrelsome and licentious as they had been from time immemorial, they did not see that the favourable moment had come; or, seeing, could not profit by it. while they were revelling or fighting among themselves, under the walls of damietta, the revolt was put down, and camhel firmly established on the throne of egypt. in conjunction with his brother, cohreddin, his next care was to drive the christians from damietta, and, for upwards of three months, they bent all their efforts to throw in supplies to the besieged, or draw on the besiegers to a general engagement. in neither were they successful; and the famine in damietta became so dreadful, that vermin of every description were thought luxuries, and sold for exorbitant prices. a dead dog became more valuable than a live ox in time of prosperity. unwholesome food brought on disease, and the city could hold out no longer, for absolute want of men to defend the walls. cohreddin and camhel were alike interested in the preservation of so important a position, and, convinced of the certain fate of the city, they opened a conference with the crusading chiefs, offering to yield the whole of palestine to the christians, upon the sole condition of the evacuation of egypt. with a blindness and wrong-headedness almost incredible, these advantageous terms were refused, chiefly through the persuasion of cardinal pelagius, an ignorant and obstinate fanatic, who urged upon the duke of austria and the french and english leaders, that infidels never kept their word; that their offers were deceptive, and merely intended to betray. the conferences were brought to an abrupt termination by the crusaders, and a last attack made upon the walls of damietta. the besieged made but slight resistance, for they had no hope, and the christians entered the city, and found, out of seventy thousand people, but three thousand remaining: so fearful had been the ravages of the twin fiends, plague and famine. several months were spent in damietta. the climate either weakened the frames or obscured the understandings of the christians; for, after their conquest, they lost all energy, and abandoned themselves more unscrupulously than ever to riot and debauchery. john of brienne, who, by right of his wife, was the nominal sovereign of jerusalem, was so disgusted with the pusillanimity, arrogance, and dissensions of the chiefs, that he withdrew entirely from them, and retired to acre. large bodies also returned to europe, and cardinal pelagius was left at liberty to blast the whole enterprise whenever it pleased him. he managed to conciliate john of brienne, and marched forward with these combined forces to attack cairo. it was only when he had approached within a few hours' march of that city, that he discovered the inadequacy of his army. he turned back immediately, but the nile had risen since his departure; the sluices were opened, and there was no means of reaching damietta. in this strait, he sued for the peace he had formerly spurned, and, happily for himself, found the generous brothers, camhel and cohreddin, still willing to grant it. damietta was soon afterwards given up, and the cardinal returned to europe. john of brienne retired to acre, to mourn the loss of his kingdom, embittered against the folly of his pretended friends, who had ruined where they should have aided him. and thus ended the sixth crusade. the seventh was more successful. frederic ii, emperor of germany, had often vowed to lead his armies to the defence of palestine, but was as often deterred from the journey by matters of more pressing importance. cohreddin was a mild and enlightened monarch, and the christians of syria enjoyed repose and toleration under his rule: but john of brienne was not willing to lose his kingdom without an effort; and the popes in europe were ever willing to embroil the nations for the sake of extending their own power. no monarch of that age was capable of rendering more effective assistance than frederic of germany. to inspire him with more zeal, it was proposed that he should wed the young princess, violante, daughter of john of brienne, and heiress of the kingdom of jerusalem. frederic consented with joy and eagerness. the princess was brought from acre to rome without delay, and her marriage celebrated on a scale of great magnificence. her father, john of brienne, abdicated all his rights in favour of his son-in-law, and jerusalem had once more a king, who had not only the will, but the power, to enforce his claims. preparations for the new crusade were immediately commenced, and in the course of six months the emperor was at the head of a well-disciplined army of sixty thousand men. matthew paris informs us, that an army of the same amount was gathered in england; and most of the writers upon the crusades adopt his statement. when john of brienne was in england, before his daughter's marriage with the emperor was thought of, praying for the aid of henry iii. and his nobles to recover his lost kingdom, he did not meet with much encouragement. grafton, in his chronicle, says, "he departed again without any great comfort." but when a man of more influence in european politics appeared upon the scene, the english nobles were as ready to sacrifice themselves in the cause as they had been in the time of coeur de lion. the army of frederic encamped at brundusium; but a pestilential disease having made its appearance among them, their departure was delayed for several months. in the mean time the empress violante died in child-bed. john of brienne, who had already repented of his abdication, and was besides incensed against frederic for many acts of neglect and insult, no sooner saw the only tie which bound them, severed by the death of his daughter, than he began to bestir himself, and make interest with the pope to undo what he had done, and regain the honorary crown he had renounced. pope gregory the ninth, a man of a proud, unconciliating, and revengeful character, owed the emperor a grudge for many an act of disobedience to his authority, and encouraged the overtures of john of brienne more than he should have done. frederic, however, despised them both, and, as soon as his army was convalescent, set sail for acre. he had not been many days at sea, when he was himself attacked with the malady, and obliged to return to otranto, the nearest port. gregory, who had by this time decided in the interest of john of brienne, excommunicated the emperor for returning from so holy an expedition on any pretext whatever. frederic at first treated the excommunication with supreme contempt; but when he got well, he gave his holiness to understand that he was not to be outraged with impunity, and sent some of his troops to ravage the papal territories. this, however, only made the matter worse, and gregory despatched messengers to palestine, forbidding the faithful, under severe pains and penalties, to hold any intercourse with the excommunicated emperor. thus between them both, the scheme which they had so much at heart bade fair to be as effectually ruined as even the saracens could have wished. frederic still continued his zeal in the crusade, for he was now king of jerusalem, and fought for himself, and not for christendom, or its representative, pope gregory. hearing that john of brienne was preparing to leave europe, he lost no time in taking his own departure, and arrived safely at acre. it was here that he first experienced the evil effects of excommunication. the christians of palestine refused to aid him in any way, and looked with distrust, if not with abhorrence, upon him. the templars, hospitallers, and other knights, shared at first the general feeling; but they were not men to yield a blind obedience to a distant potentate, especially when it compromised their own interests. when, therefore, frederic prepared to march upon jerusalem without them, they joined his banners to a man. it is said, that previous to quitting europe, the german emperor had commenced a negotiation with the sultan camhel for the restoration of the holy land, and that camhel, who was jealous of the ambition of his brother cohreddin, was willing to stipulate to that effect, on condition of being secured by frederic in the possession of the more important territory of egypt. but before the crusaders reached palestine, camhel was relieved from all fears by the death of his brother. he nevertheless did not think it worth while to contest with the crusaders the barren corner of the earth which had already been dyed with so much christian and saracen blood, and proposed a truce of three years, only stipulating, in addition, that the moslems should be allowed to worship freely in the temple of jerusalem. this happy termination did not satisfy the bigoted christians of palestine. the tolerance they fought for themselves, they were not willing to extend to others, and they complained bitterly of the privilege of free worship allowed to their opponents. unmerited good fortune had made them insolent, and they contested the right of the emperor to become a party to any treaty, as long as he remained under the ecclesiastical ban. frederic was disgusted with his new subjects; but, as the templars and hospitallers remained true to him, he marched to jerusalem to be crowned. all the churches were shut against him, and he could not even find a priest to officiate at his coronation. he had despised the papal authority too long to quail at it now, when it was so unjustifiably exerted, and, as there was nobody to crown him, he very wisely crowned himself. he took the royal diadem from the altar with his own hands, and boldly and proudly placed it on his brow. no shouts of an applauding populace made the welkin ring, no hymns of praise and triumph resounded from the ministers of religion; but a thousand swords started from their scabbards, to testify that their owners would defend the new monarch to the death. it was hardly to be expected that he would renounce for any long period the dominion of his native land for the uneasy crown and barren soil of palestine. he had seen quite enough of his new subjects before he was six months among them, and more important interests called him home. john of brienne, openly leagued with pope gregory against him, was actually employed in ravaging his territories at the head of a papal army. this intelligence decided his return. as a preliminary step, he made those who had contemned his authority feel, to their sorrow, that he was their master. he then set sail, loaded with the curses of palestine. and thus ended the seventh crusade, which, in spite of every obstacle and disadvantage, had been productive of more real service to the holy land than any that had gone before; a result solely attributable to the bravery of frederic and the generosity of the sultan camhel. soon after the emperor's departure a new claimant started for the throne of jerusalem, in the person of alice, queen of cyprus, and half-sister of the mary who, by her marriage, had transferred her right to john of brienne. the grand military orders, however, clung to frederic, and alice was obliged to withdraw. so peaceful a termination to the crusade did not give unmixed pleasure in europe. the chivalry of france and england were unable to rest, and long before the conclusion of the truce, were collecting their armies for an eighth expedition. in palestine, also, the contentment was far from universal. many petty mahomedan states in the immediate vicinity were not parties to the truce, and harassed the frontier towns incessantly. the templars, ever turbulent, waged bitter war with the sultan of aleppo, and in the end were almost exterminated. so great was the slaughter among them that europe resounded with the sad story of their fate, and many a noble knight took arms to prevent the total destruction of an order associated with so many high and inspiring remembrances. camhel, seeing the preparations that were making, thought that his generosity had been sufficiently shown, and the very day the truce was at an end assumed the offensive, and marching forward to jerusalem took possession of it, after routing the scanty forces of the christians. before this intelligence reached europe a large body of crusaders was on the march, headed by the king of navarre, the duke of burgundy, the count de bretagne, and other leaders. on their arrival, they learned that jerusalem had been taken, but that the sultan was dead, and his kingdom torn by rival claimants to the supreme power. the dissensions of their foes ought to have made them united, but, as in all previous crusades, each feudal chief was master of his own host, and acted upon his own responsibility, and without reference to any general plan. the consequence was that nothing could be done. a temporary advantage was gained by one leader, who had no means of improving it, while another was defeated, without means of retrieving himself. thus the war lingered till the battle of gaza, when the king of navarre was defeated with great loss, and compelled to save himself from total destruction by entering into a hard and oppressive treaty with the emir of karac. at this crisis aid arrived from england, commanded by richard earl of cornwall, the namesake of coeur de lion, and inheritor of his valour. his army was strong, and full of hope. they had confidence in themselves and in their leader, and looked like men accustomed to victory. their coming changed the aspect of affairs. the new sultan of egypt was at war with the sultan of damascus, and had not forces to oppose two enemies so powerful. he therefore sent messengers to meet the english earl, offering an exchange of prisoners and the complete cession of the holy land. richard, who had not come to fight for the mere sake of fighting, agreed at once to terms so advantageous, and became the deliverer of palestine without striking a blow. the sultan of egypt then turned his whole force against his moslem enemies, and the earl of cornwall returned to europe. thus ended the eighth crusade, the most beneficial of all. christendom had no further pretence for sending her fierce levies to the east. to all appearance, the holy wars were at an end: the christians had entire possession of jerusalem, tripoli, antioch, edessa, acre, jaffa, and, in fact, of nearly all judea; and, could they have been at peace among themselves, they might have overcome, without great difficulty, the jealousy and hostility of their neighhours. a circumstance, as unforeseen as it was disastrous, blasted this fair prospect, and reillumed, for the last time, the fervour and fury of the crusades. gengis khan and his successors had swept over asia like a tropical storm, overturning in their progress the landmarks of ages. kingdom after kingdom was cast down as they issued, innumerable, from the far recesses of the north and east, and, among others, the empire of korasmin was overrun by these all-conquering hordes. the korasmins, a fierce, uncivilized race, thus driven from their homes, spread themselves, in their turn, over the south of asia with fire and sword, in search of a resting place. in their impetuous course they directed themselves towards egypt, whose sultan, unable to withstand the swarm that had cast their longing eyes on the fertile valleys of the nile, endeavoured to turn them from their course. for this purpose, he sent emissaries to barbaquan, their leader, inviting them to settle in palestine; and the offer being accepted by the wild horde, they entered the country before the christians received the slightest intimation of their coming. it was as sudden as it was overwhelming. onwards, like the simoom, they came, burning and slaying, and were at the walls of jerusalem before the inhabitants had time to look round them. they spared neither life nor property; they slew women and children, and priests at the altar, and profaned even the graves of those who had slept for ages. they tore down every vestige of the christian faith, and committed horrors unparalleled in the history of warfare. about seven thousand of the inhabitants of jerusalem sought safety in retreat; but before they were out of sight, the banner of the cross was hoisted upon the walls by the savage foe to decoy them back. the artifice was but too successful. the poor fugitives imagined that help had arrived from another direction, and turned back to regain their homes. nearly the whole of them were massacred, and the streets of jerusalem ran with blood. the templars, hospitallers, and teutonic knights forgot their long and bitter animosities, and joined hand in hand to rout out this desolating foe. they intrenched themselves in jaffa with all the chivalry of palestine that yet remained, and endeavoured to engage the sultans of emissa and damascus to assist them against the common enemy. the aid obtained from the moslems amounted at first to only four thousand men, but with these reinforcements walter of brienne, the lord of jaffa, resolved to give battle to the korasrains. the conflict was as deadly as despair on the one side, and unmitigated ferocity on the other, could make it. it lasted with varying fortune for two days, when the sultan of emissa fled to his fortifications, and walter of brienne fell into the enemy's hands. the brave knight was suspended by the arms to a cross in sight of the walls of jaffa, and the korasminian leader declared that he should remain in that position until the city surrendered. walter raised his feeble voice, not to advise surrender, but to command his soldiers to hold out to the last. but his gallantry was unavailing. so great had been the slaughter, that out of the grand array of knights, there now remained but sixteen hospitallers, thirty-three templars, and three teutonic cavaliers. these with the sad remnant of the army fled to acre, and the korasmins were masters of palestine. the sultans of syria preferred the christians to this fierce horde for their neighbours. even the sultan of egypt began to regret the aid he had given to such barbarous foes, and united with those of emissa and damascus to root them from the land. the korasmins amounted to but twenty thousand men, and were unable to resist the determined hostility which encompassed them on every side. the sultans defeated them in several engagements, and the peasantry rose up in masses to take vengeance upon them. gradually their numbers were diminished. no mercy was shown them in defeat. barbaquan, their leader, was slain, and after five years of desperate struggles they were finally extirpated, and palestine became once more the territory of the mussulmans. a short time previous to this devastating irruption, louis ix. fell sick in paris, and dreamed in the delirium of his fever that he saw the christian and moslem hosts fighting before jerusalem, and the christians defeated with great slaughter. the dream made a great impression on his superstitious mind, and he made a solemn vow that if ever he recovered his health, he would take a pilgrimage to the holy land. when the news of the misfortunes of palestine, and the awful massacres at jerusalem and jaffa, arrived in europe, st. louis remembered him of his dream. more persuaded than ever, that it was an intimation direct from heaven, he prepared to take the cross at the head of his armies, and march to the deliverance of the holy sepulchre. from that moment he doffed the royal mantle of purple and ermine, and dressed in the sober serge becoming a pilgrim. all his thoughts were directed to the fulfilment of his design, and although his kingdom could but ill spare him, he made every preparation to leave it. pope innocent iv. applauded his zeal and afforded him every assistance. he wrote to henry iii. of england to forward the cause in his dominions, and called upon the clergy and laity all over europe to contribute towards it. william longsword, the celebrated earl of salisbury, took the cross at the head of a great number of valiant knights and soldiers. but the fanaticism of the people was not to be awakened either in france or england. great armies were raised, but the masses no longer sympathized. taxation had been the great cooler of zeal. it was no longer a disgrace even to a knight if he refused to take the cross. rutebeuf, a french minstrel, who flourished about this time ( ), composed a dialogue between a crusader and a non-crusader, which the reader will find translated in "way's fabliaux." the crusader uses every argument to persuade the non-crusader to take up arms, and forsake every thing, in the holy cause; but it is evident from the greater force of the arguments used by the noncrusader, that he was the favourite of the minstrel. to a most urgent solicitation of his friend, the crusader, he replies, "i read thee right, thou boldest good to this same land i straight should hie, and win it back with mickle blood, nor gaine one foot of soil thereby. while here dejected and forlorn, my wife and babes are left to mourn; my goodly mansion rudely marred, all trusted to my dogs to guard. but i, fair comrade, well i wot an ancient saw, of pregnant wit, doth bid us keep what we have got, and troth i mean to follow it." this being the general feeling, it is not to be wondered at that louis ix. was occupied fully three years in organizing his forces, and in making the necessary preparations for his departure. when all was ready he set sail for cyprus, accompanied by his queen, his two brothers, the counts d'anjou and d'artois, and a long train of the noblest chivalry of france. his third brother, the count de poitiers, remained behind to collect another corps of crusaders, and followed him in a few months afterwards. the army united at cyprus, and amounted to fifty thousand men, exclusive of the english crusaders under william longsword. again, a pestilential disease made its appearance, to which many hundreds fell victims. it was in consequence found necessary to remain in cyprus until the spring. louis then embarked for egypt with his whole host; but a violent tempest separated his fleet, and he arrived before damietta with only a few thousand men. they were, however, impetuous and full of hope; and although the sultan melick shah was drawn up on the shore with a force infinitely superior, it was resolved to attempt a landing without waiting the arrival of the rest of the army. louis himself in wild impatience sprang from his boat, and waded on shore; while his army, inspired by his enthusiastic bravery, followed, shouting the old war-cry of the first crusaders, dieu le veut! dieu le veut! a panic seized the turks. a body of their cavalry attempted to bear down upon the crusaders, but the knights fixed their large shields deep in the sands of the shore, and rested their lances upon them, so that they projected above, and formed a barrier so imposing, that the turks, afraid to breast it, turned round and fairly took to flight. at the moment of this panic, a false report was spread in the saracen host, that the sultan had been slain. the confusion immediately became general--the deroute was complete: damietta itself was abandoned, and the same night the victorious crusaders fixed their headquarters in that city. the soldiers who had been separated from their chief by the tempest, arrived shortly afterwards; and louis was in a position to justify the hope, not only of the conquest of palestine, but of egypt itself. but too much confidence proved the bane of his army. they thought, as they had accomplished so much, that nothing more remained to be done, and gave themselves up to ease and luxury. when, by the command of louis, they marched towards cairo, they were no longer the same men; success, instead of inspiring, had unnerved them; debauchery had brought on disease, and disease was aggravated by the heat of a climate to which none of them were accustomed. their progress towards massoura, on the road to cairo, was checked by the thanisian canal, on the banks of which the saracens were drawn up to dispute the passage. louis gave orders that a bridge should be thrown across; and the operations commenced under cover of two cat-castles, or high moveable towers. the saracens soon destroyed them by throwing quantities of greek fire, the artillery of that day, upon them, and louis was forced to think of some other means of effecting his design. a peasant agreed, for a considerable bribe, to point out a ford where the army might wade across, and the count d'artois was despatched with fourteen hundred men to attempt it, while louis remained to face the saracens with the main body of the army. the count d'artois got safely over, and defeated the detachment that had been sent to oppose his landing. flushed with the victory, the brave count forgot the inferiority of his numbers, and pursued the panic-stricken enemy into massoura. he was now completely cut off from the aid of his brother-crusaders, which the moslems perceiving, took courage and returned upon him, with a force swollen by the garrison of massoura, and by reinforcements from the surrounding districts. the battle now became hand to hand. the christians fought with the energy of desperate men, but the continually increasing numbers of the foe surrounded them completely, and cut off all hope, either of victory or escape. the count d'artois was among the foremost of the slain, and when louis arrived to the rescue, the brave advance-guard was nearly cut to pieces. of the fourteen hundred but three hundred remained. the fury of the battle was now increased threefold. the french king and his troops performed prodigies of valour, and the saracens, under the command of the emir ceccidun, fought as if they were determined to exterminate, in one last decisive effort, the new european swarm that had settled upon their coast. at the fall of the evening dews the christians were masters of the field of massoura, and flattered themselves that they were the victors. self-love would not suffer them to confess that the saracens had withdrawn, and not retreated; but their leaders were too wofully convinced that that fatal field had completed the disorganization of the christian army, and that all hopes of future conquest were at an end. impressed with this truth, the crusaders sued for peace. the sultan insisted upon the immediate evacuation of damietta, and that louis himself should be delivered as hostage for the fulfilment of the condition. his army at once refused, and the negotiations were broken off. it was now resolved to attempt a retreat; but the agile saracens, now in the front and now in the rear, rendered it a matter of extreme difficulty, and cut off the stragglers in great numbers. hundreds of them were drowned in the nile; and sickness and famine worked sad ravage upon those who escaped all other casualties. louis himself was so weakened by disease, fatigue, and discouragement that he was hardly able to sit upon his horse. in the confusion of the flight he was separated from his attendants, and left a total stranger upon the sands of egypt, sick, weary, and almost friendless. one knight, geffry de sergines, alone attended him, and led him to a miserable hut in a small village, where for several days he lay in the hourly expectation of death. he was at last discovered and taken prisoner by the saracens, who treated him with all the honour due to his rank and all the pity due to his misfortunes. under their care his health rapidly improved, and the next consideration was that of his ransom. the saracens demanded, besides money, the cession of acre, tripoli, and other cities of palestine. louis unhesitatingly refused, and conducted himself with so much pride and courage that the sultan declared he was the proudest infidel he had ever beheld. after a good deal of haggling, the sultan agreed to waive these conditions, and a treaty was finally concluded. the city of damietta was restored; a truce of ten years agreed upon, and ten thousand golden bezants paid for the release of louis and the liberation of all the captives. louis then withdrew to jaffa, and spent two years in putting that city, and cesarea, with the other possessions of the christians in palestine, into a proper state of defence. he then returned to his own country, with great reputation as a saint, but very little as a soldier. matthew paris informs us that, in the year , while louis was in egypt, "thousands of the english were resolved to go to the holy war, had not the king strictly guarded his ports and kept his people from running out of doors." when the news arrived of the reverses and captivity of the french king, their ardour cooled; and the crusade was sung of only, but not spoken of. in france, a very different feeling was the result. the news of the king's capture spread consternation through the country. a fanatic monk of citeaux suddenly appeared in the villages, preaching to the people, and announcing that the holy virgin, accompanied by a whole army of saints and martyrs, had appeared to him, and commanded him to stir up the shepherds and farm labourers to the defence of the cross. to them only was his discourse addressed, and his eloquence was such that thousands flocked around him, ready to follow wherever he should lead. the pastures and the corn-fields were deserted, and the shepherds, or pastoureaux, as they were termed, became at last so numerous as to amount to upwards of fifty thousand,--millot says one hundred thousand men. [elemens de l'histoire de france.] the queen blanche, who governed as regent during the absence of the king, encouraged at first the armies of the pastoureaux; but they soon gave way to such vile excesses that the peaceably disposed were driven to resistance. robbery, murder, and violation marked their path; and all good men, assisted by the government, united in putting them down. they were finally dispersed, but not before three thousand of them had been massacred. many authors say that the slaughter was still greater. the ten years' truce concluded in , and st. louis was urged by two powerful motives to undertake a second expedition for the relief of palestine. these were fanaticism on the one hand, and a desire of retrieving his military fame on the other, which had suffered more than his parasites liked to remind him of. the pope, of course, encouraged his design, and once more the chivalry of europe began to bestir themselves. in , edward, the heir of the english monarchy, announced his determination to join the crusade; and the pope (clement iv.) wrote to the prelates and clergy to aid the cause by their persuasions and their revenues. in england, they agreed to contribute a tenth of their possessions; and by a parliamentary order, a twentieth was taken from the corn and moveables of all the laity at michaelmas. in spite of the remonstrances of the few clearheaded statesmen who surrounded him, urging the ruin that might in consequence fall upon his then prosperous kingdom, louis made every preparation for his departure. the warlike nobility were nothing loth, and in the spring of , the king set sail with an army of sixty thousand men. he was driven by stress of weather into sardinia, and while there, a change in his plans took place. instead of proceeding to acre, as he originally intended, he shaped his course for tunis, on the african coast. the king of tunis had some time previously expressed himself favourably disposed towards the christians and their religion, and louis, it appears, had hopes of converting him, and securing his aid against the sultan of egypt. "what honour would be mine," he used to say, "if i could become godfather to this mussulman king." filled with this idea he landed in africa, near the site of the city of carthage, but found that he had reckoned without his host. the king of tunis had no thoughts of renouncing his religion, nor intention of aiding the crusaders in any way. on the contrary, he opposed their landing with all the forces that could be collected on so sudden an emergency. the french, however, made good their first position, and defeated the moslems with considerable loss. they also gained some advantage over the reinforcements that were sent to oppose them; but an infectious flux appeared in the army, and put a stop to all future victories. the soldiers died at the rate of a hundred in a day. the enemy, at the same time, made as great havoc as the plague. st. louis himself was one of the first attacked by the disease. his constitution had been weakened by fatigues, and even before he left france he was unable to bear the full weight of his armour. it was soon evident to his sorrowing soldiers that their beloved monarch could not long survive. he lingered for some days, and died in carthage, in the fifty-sixth year of his age, deeply regretted by his army and his subjects, and leaving behind him one of the most singular reputations in history. he is the model-king of ecclesiastical writers, in whose eyes his very defects became virtues, because they were manifested in furtherance of their cause. more unprejudiced historians, while they condemn his fanaticism, admit that he was endowed with many high and rare qualities; that he was in no one point behind his age, and, in many, in advance of it. his brother, charles of anjou, in consequence of a revolution in sicily, had become king of that country. before he heard of the death of louis, he had sailed from messina with large reinforcements. on his landing near carthage, he advanced at the head of his army, amid the martial music of drums and trumpets. he was soon informed how inopportune was his rejoicing, and shed tears before his whole army, such as no warrior would have been ashamed to shed. a peace was speedily agreed upon with the king of tunis, and the armies of france and sicily returned to their homes. so little favour had the crusade found in england, that even the exertions of the heir to the throne had only collected a small force of fifteen hundred men. with these few prince edward sailed from dover to bourdeaux, in the expectation that he would find the french king in that city. st. louis, however, had left a few weeks previously; upon which edward followed him to sardinia, and afterwards to tunis. before his arrival in africa, st. louis was no more, and peace had been concluded between france and tunis. he determined, however, not to relinquish the crusade. returning to sicily, he passed the winter in that country, and endeavoured to augment his little army. in the spring he set sail for palestine, and arrived in safety at acre. the christians were torn, as usual, by mutual jealousies and animosities. the two great military orders were as virulent and as intractable as ever; opposed to each other, and to all the world. the arrival of edward had the effect of causing them to lay aside their unworthy contention, and of uniting heart to heart, in one last effort for the deliverance of their adopted country. a force of six thousand effective warriors was soon formed to join those of the english prince, and preparations were made for the renewal of hostilities. the sultan, bibars or bendocdar, [mills, in his history, gives the name of this chief as "al malek al dhaker rokneddin abulfeth bibars al ali al bundokdari al salehi."] a fierce mamluke, who had been placed on the throne by a bloody revolution, was at war with all his neighbours, and unable, for that reason, to concentrate his whole strength against them. edward took advantage of this; and marching boldly forward to nazareth, defeated the turks and gained possession of that city. this was the whole amount of his successes. the hot weather engendered disease among his troops, and he himself, the life and soul of the expedition, fell sick among the first. he had been ill for some time, and was slowly recovering, when a messenger desired to speak with him on important matters, and to deliver some despatches into his own hand. while the prince was occupied in examining them, the traitorous messenger drew a dagger from his belt, and stabbed him in the breast. the wound fortunately was not deep, and edward had gained a portion of his strength. he struggled with the assassin, and put him to death with his own dagger, at the same time calling loudly for assistance. [the reader will recognise the incident which sir walter scott has introduced into his beautiful romance, "the talisman," and which, with the licence claimed by poets and romancers, he represents as having befallen king richard i.] his attendants came at his call, and found him bleeding profusely, and ascertained on inspection that the dagger was poisoned. means were instantly taken to purify the wound; and an antidote was sent by the grand master of the templars which removed all danger from the effects of the poison. camden, in his history, has adopted the more popular, and certainly more beautiful, version of this story, which says that the princess eleonora, in her love for her gallant husband, sucked the poison from his wound at the risk of her own life: to use the words of old fuller, "it is a pity so pretty a story should not be true; and that so sovereign a remedy as a woman's tongue, anointed with the virtue of loving affection," should not have performed the good deed. edward suspected, and doubtless not without reason, that the assassin was employed by the sultan of egypt. but it amounted to suspicion only; and by the sudden death of the assassin, the principal clue to the discovery of the truth was lost for ever. edward, on his recovery, prepared to resume the offensive; but the sultan, embarrassed by the defence of interests which, for the time being, he considered of more importance, made offers of peace to the crusaders. this proof of weakness on the part of the enemy was calculated to render a man of edward's temperament more anxious to prosecute the war; but he had also other interests to defend. news arrived in palestine of the death of his father, king henry iii; and his presence being necessary in england, he agreed to the terms of the sultan. these were, that the christians should be allowed to retain their possessions in the holy land, and that a truce of ten years should be proclaimed. edward then set sail for england; and thus ended the last crusade. the after-fate of the holy land may be told in a few words. the christians, unmindful of their past sufferings and of the jealous neighbours they had to deal with, first broke the truce by plundering some egyptian traders near margat. the sultan immediately revenged the outrage by taking possession of margat, and war once more raged between the nations. margat made a gallant defence, but no reinforcements arrived from europe to prevent its fall. tripoli was the next, and other cities in succession, until at last acre was the only city of palestine that remained in possession of the christians. the grand master of the templars collected together his small and devoted band; and with the trifling aid afforded by the king of cyprus, prepared to defend to the death the last possession of his order. europe was deaf to his cry for aid, the numbers of the foe were overwhelming, and devoted bravery was of no avail. in that disastrous siege the christians were all but exterminated. the king of cyprus fled when he saw that resistance was vain, and the grand master fell at the head of his knights, pierced with a hundred wounds. seven templars, and as many hospitallets, alone escaped from the dreadful carnage. the victorious moslems then set fire to the city, and the rule of the christians in palestine was brought to a close for ever. this intelligence spread alarm and sorrow among the clergy of europe, who endeavoured to rouse once more the energy and enthusiasm of the nations, in the cause of the holy land: but the popular mania had run its career; the spark of zeal had burned its appointed time, and was never again to be re-illumined. here and there a solitary knight announced his determination to take up arms, and now and then a king gave cold encouragement to the scheme; but it dropped almost as soon as spoken of, to be renewed again, still more feebly, at some longer interval. now what was the grand result of all these struggles? europe expended millions of her treasures, and the blood of two millions of her children; and a handful of quarrelsome knights retained possession of palestine for about one hundred years! even had christendom retained it to this day, the advantage, if confined to that, would have been too dearly purchased. but notwithstanding the fanaticism that originated, and the folly that conducted them, the crusades were not productive of unmitigated evil. the feudal chiefs became better members of society, by coming in contact, in asia, with a civilization superior to their own; the people secured some small instalments of their rights; kings, no longer at war with their nobility, had time to pass some good laws; the human mind learned some little wisdom from hard experience, and, casting off the slough of superstition in which the roman clergy had so long enveloped it, became prepared to receive the seeds of the approaching reformation. thus did the all-wise disposer of events bring good out of evil, and advance the civilization and ultimate happiness of the nations of the west, by means of the very fanaticism that had led them against the east. but the whole subject is one of absorbing interest; and if carried fully out in all its bearings, would consume more space than the plan of this work will allow. the philosophic student will draw his own conclusions; and he can have no better field for the exercise of his powers than this european madness; its advantages and disadvantages; its causes and results. the witch mania. what wrath of gods, or wicked influence of tears, conspiring wretched men t' afflict, hath pour'd on earth this noyous pestilence, that mortal minds doth inwardly infect with love of blindness and of ignorance? spencer's tears of the muses. countrymen: "hang her!--beat her!--kill her!" justice: "how now? forbear this violence!" mother sawyer: "a crew of villains--a knot of bloody hangmen! set to torment me!--i know not why." justice: "alas! neighbour banks, are you a ringleader in mischief? fie i to abuse an aged woman!" banks: "woman!--a she hell-cat, a witch! to prove her one, we no sooner set fire on the thatch of her house, but in she came running, as if the devil had sent her in a barrel of gunpowder." ford's witch of edmonton. the belief that disembodied spirits may be permitted to revisit this world, has its foundation upon that sublime hope of immortality, which is at once the chief solace and greatest triumph of our reason. even if revelation did not teach us, we feel that we have that within us which shall never die; and all our experience of this life but makes us cling the more fondly to that one repaying hope. but in the early days of "little knowledge," this grand belief became the source of a whole train of superstitions, which, in their turn, became the fount from whence flowed a deluge of blood and horror. europe, for a period of two centuries and a half, brooded upon the idea, not only that parted spirits walked the earth to meddle in the affairs of men, but that men had power to summon evil spirits to their aid to work woe upon their fellows. an epidemic terror seized upon the nations; no man thought himself secure, either in his person or possessions, from the machinations of the devil and his agents. every calamity that befell him, he attributed to a witch. if a storm arose and blew down his barn, it was witchcraft; if his cattle died of a murrain-if disease fastened upon his limbs, or death entered suddenly, and snatched a beloved face from his hearth--they were not visitations of providence, but the works of some neighbouring hag, whose wretchedness or insanity caused the ignorant to raise their finger, and point at her as a witch. the word was upon everybody's tongue--france, italy, germany, england, scotland, and the far north, successively ran mad upon this subject, and for a long series of years, furnished their tribunals with so many trials for witchcraft that other crimes were seldom or never spoken of. thousands upon thousands of unhappy persons fell victims to this cruel and absurd delusion. in many cities of germany, as will be shown more fully in its due place hereafter, the average number of executions for this pretended crime, was six hundred annually, or two every day, if we leave out the sundays, when, it is to be supposed, that even this madness refrained from its work. a misunderstanding of the famous text of the mosaic law, "thou shalt not suffer a witch to live," no doubt led many conscientious men astray, whose superstition, warm enough before, wanted but a little corroboration to blaze out with desolating fury. in all ages of the world men have tried to hold converse with superior beings; and to pierce, by their means, the secrets of futurity. in the time of moses, it is evident that there were impostors, who trafficked upon the credulity of mankind, and insulted the supreme majesty of the true god by pretending to the power of divination. hence the law which moses, by divine command, promulgated against these criminals; but it did not follow, as the superstitious monomaniacs of the middle ages imagined, that the bible established the existence of the power of divination by its edicts against those who pretended to it. from the best authorities, it appears that the hebrew word, which has been rendered, venefica, and witch, means a poisoner and divineress--a dabbler in spells, or fortune-teller. the modern witch was a very different character, and joined to her pretended power of foretelling future events that of working evil upon the life, limbs, and possessions of mankind. this power was only to be acquired by an express compact, signed in blood, with the devil himself, by which the wizard or witch renounced baptism, and sold his or her immortal soul to the evil one, without any saving clause of redemption. there are so many wondrous appearances in nature, for which science and philosophy cannot, even now, account, that it is not surprising that, when natural laws were still less understood, men should have attributed to supernatural agency every appearance which they could not otherwise explain. the merest tyro now understands various phenomena which the wisest of old could not fathom. the schoolboy knows why, upon high mountains, there should, on certain occasions, appear three or four suns in the firmament at once; and why the figure of a traveller upon one eminence should be reproduced, inverted, and of a gigantic stature, upon another. we all know the strange pranks which imagination can play in certain diseases--that the hypochondriac can see visions and spectres, and that there have been cases in which men were perfectly persuaded that they were teapots. science has lifted up the veil, and rolled away all the fantastic horrors in which our forefathers shrouded these and similar cases. the man who now imagines himself a wolf, is sent to the hospital, instead of to the stake, as in the days of the witch mania; and earth, air, and sea are unpeopled of the grotesque spirits that were once believed to haunt them. before entering further into the history of witchcraft, it may be as well if we consider the absurd impersonation of the evil principle formed by the monks in their legends. we must make acquaintance with the primum mobile, and understand what sort of a personage it was, who gave the witches, in exchange for their souls, the power to torment their fellow-creatures. the popular notion of the devil was, that he was a large, ill-formed, hairy sprite, with horns, a long tail, cloven feet, and dragon's wings. in this shape he was constantly brought on the stage by the monks in their early "miracles" and "mysteries." in these representations he was an important personage, and answered the purpose of the clown in the modern pantomime. the great fun for the people was to see him well belaboured by the saints with clubs or cudgels, and to hear him howl with pain as he limped off, maimed by the blow of some vigorous anchorite. st. dunstan generally served him the glorious trick for which he is renowned--catching hold of his nose with a pair of red-hot pincers, till "rocks and distant dells resounded with his cries." some of the saints spat in his face, to his very great annoyance; and others chopped pieces off his tail, which, however, always grew on again. this was paying him in his own coin, and amused the populace mightily; for they all remembered the scurvy tricks he had played them and their forefathers. it was believed that he endeavoured to trip people up, by laying his long invisible tail in their way, and giving it a sudden whisk when their legs were over it;--that he used to get drunk, and swear like a trooper, and be so mischievous in his cups as to raise tempests and earthquakes, to destroy the fruits of the earth and the barns and homesteads of true believers;--that he used to run invisible spits into people by way of amusing himself in the long winter evenings, and to proceed to taverns and regale himself with the best, offering in payment pieces of gold which, on the dawn of the following morning, invariably turned into slates. sometimes, disguised as a large drake, he used to lurk among the bulrushes, and frighten the weary traveller out of his wits by his awful quack. the reader will remember the lines of burns in his address to the "de'il," which so well express the popular notion on this point-- "ae dreary, windy, winter night, the stars shot down wi' sklentin light, wi' you, mysel, i got a fright ayont the lough; ye, like a rash-bush, stood in sight wi' waving sough. "the cudgel in my nieve did shake, each bristled hair stood like a stake, when wi' an eldritch stour, 'quaick! quaick!' among the springs awa ye squatter'd, like a drake, on whistling wings." in all the stories circulated and believed about him, he was represented as an ugly, petty, mischievous spirit, who rejoiced in playing off all manner of fantastic tricks upon poor humanity. milton seems to have been the first who succeeded in giving any but a ludicrous description of him. the sublime pride which is the quintessence of evil, was unconceived before his time. all other limners made him merely grotesque, but milton made him awful. in this the monks showed themselves but miserable romancers; for their object undoubtedly was to represent the fiend as terrible as possible: but there was nothing grand about their satan; on the contrary, he was a low mean devil, whom it was easy to circumvent and fine fun to play tricks with. but, as is well and eloquently remarked by a modern writer, [see article on demonology, in the sixth volume of the "foreign quarterly review."] the subject has also its serious side. an indian deity, with its wild distorted shape and grotesque attitude, appears merely ridiculous when separated from its accessories and viewed by daylight in a museum; but restore it to the darkness of its own hideous temple, bring back to our recollection the victims that have bled upon its altar, or been crushed beneath its ear, and our sense of the ridiculous subsides into aversion and horror. so, while the superstitious dreams of former times are regarded as mere speculative insanities, we may be for a moment amused with the wild incoherences of the patients; but, when we reflect, that out of these hideous misconceptions of the principle of evil arose the belief in witchcraft--that this was no dead faith, but one operating on the whole being of society, urging on the wisest and the mildest to deeds of murder, or cruelties scarcely less than murder--that the learned and the beautiful, young and old, male and female, were devoted by its influence to the stake and the scaffold--every feeling disappears, except that of astonishment that such things could be, and humiliation at the thought that the delusion was as lasting as it was universal. besides this chief personage, there was an infinite number of inferior demons, who played conspicuous parts in the creed of witchcraft. the pages of bekker, leloyer, bodin, delrio, and de lancre abound with descriptions of the qualities of these imps and the functions which were assigned them. from these authors, three of whom were commissioners for the trial of witches, and who wrote from the confessions made by the supposed criminals and the evidence delivered against them, and from the more recent work of m. jules garinet, the following summary of the creed has been, with great pains, extracted. the student who is desirous of knowing more, is referred to the works in question; he will find enough in every leaf to make his blood curdle with shame and horror: but the purity of these pages shall not be soiled by anything so ineffably humiliating and disgusting as a complete exposition of them; what is here culled will be a sufficient sample of the popular belief, and the reader would but lose time who should seek in the writings of the demonologists for more ample details. he will gain nothing by lifting the veil which covers their unutterable obscenities, unless, like sterne, he wishes to gather fresh evidence of "what a beast man is." in that case, he will find plenty there to convince him that the beast would be libelled by the comparison. it was thought that the earth swarmed with millions of demons of both sexes, many of whom, like the human race, traced their lineage up to adam, who, after the fall, was led astray by devils, assuming the forms of beautiful women to deceive him. these demons "increased and multiplied," among themselves, with the most extraordinary rapidity. their bodies were of the thin air, and they could pass though the hardest substances with the greatest ease. they had no fixed residence or abiding place, but were tossed to and fro in the immensity of space. when thrown together in great multitudes, they excited whirlwinds in the air and tempests in the waters, and took delight in destroying the beauty of nature and the monuments of the industry of man. although they increased among themselves like ordinary creatures, their numbers were daily augmented by the souls of wicked men--of children still-born--of women who died in childbed, and of persons killed in duels. the whole air was supposed to be full of them, and many unfortunate men and women drew them by thousands into their mouths and nostrils at every inspiration; and the demons, lodging in their bowels or other parts of their bodies, tormented them with pains and diseases of every kind, and sent them frightful dreams. st. gregory of nice relates a story of a nun who forgot to say her benedicite, and make the sign of the cross, before she sat down to supper, and who, in consequence, swallowed a demon concealed among the leaves of a lettuce. most persons said the number of these demons was so great that they could not be counted, but wierus asserted that they amounted to no more than seven millions, four hundred and five thousand, nine hundred, and twenty-six; and that they were divided into seventy-two companies or battalions, to each of which there was a prince or captain. they could assume any shape they pleased. when they were male, they were called incubi; and when female, succubi. they sometimes made themselves hideous; and at other times, they assumed shapes of such transcendant loveliness, that mortal eyes never saw beauty to compete with theirs. although the devil and his legions could appear to mankind at any time, it was generally understood that he preferred the night between friday and saturday. if satan himself appeared in human shape, he was never perfectly, and in all respects, like a man. he was either too black or too white--too large or too small, or some of his limbs were out of proportion to the rest of his body. most commonly his feet were deformed; and he was obliged to curl up and conceal his tall in some part of his habiliments; for, take what shape he would, he could not get rid of that encumbrance. he sometimes changed himself into a tree or a river; and upon one occasion he transformed himself into a barrister, as we learn from wierus, book iv, chapter ix. in the reign of philippe le bel, he appeared to a monk in the shape of a dark man, riding a tall black horse--then as a friar--afterwards as an ass, and finally as a coach-wheel. instances are not rare in which both he and his inferior demons have taken the form of handsome young men; and, successfully concealing their tails, have married beautiful young women, who have had children by them. such children were easily recognizable by their continual shrieking--by their requiring five nurses to suckle them, and by their never growing fat. all these demons were at the command of any individual, who would give up his immortal soul to the prince of evil for the privilege of enjoying their services for a stated period. the wizard or witch could send them to execute the most difficult missions: whatever the witch commanded was performed, except it was a good action, in which case the order was disobeyed, and evil worked upon herself instead. at intervals, according to the pleasure of satan, there was a general meeting of the demons and all the witches. this meeting was called the sabbath, from its taking place on the saturday or immediately after midnight on fridays. these sabbaths were sometimes held for one district, sometimes for another, and once at least, every year, it was held on the brocken, or among other high mountains, as a general sabbath of the fiends for the whole of christendom. the devil generally chose a place where four roads met, as the scene of this assembly, or if that was not convenient, the neighbourhood of a lake. upon this spot nothing would ever afterwards grow, as the hot feet of the demons and witches burnt the principle of fecundity from the earth, and rendered it barren for ever. when orders had been once issued for the meeting of the sabbath, all the wizards and witches who failed to attend it were lashed by demons with a rod made of serpents or scorpions, as a punishment for their inattention or want of punctuality. in france and england, the witches were supposed to ride uniformly upon broomsticks; but in italy and spain, the devil himself, in the shape of a goat, used to transport them on his back, which lengthened or shortened according to the number of witches he was desirous of accommodating. no witch, when proceeding to the sabbath, could get out by a door or window, were she to try ever so much. their general mode of ingress was by the keyhole, and of egress, by the chimney, up which they flew, broom and all, with the greatest ease. to prevent the absence of the witches from being noticed by their neighbours, some inferior demon was commanded to assume their shapes and lie in their beds, feigning illness, until the sabbath was over. when all the wizards and witches had arrived at the place of rendezvous, the infernal ceremonies of the sabbath began. satan, having assumed his favourite shape of a large he-goat, with a face in front and another in his haunches, took his seat upon a throne; and all present, in succession, paid their respects to him, and kissed him in his face behind. this done, he appointed a master of the ceremonies, in company with whom he made a personal examination of all the wizards and witches, to see whether they had the secret mark about them by which they were stamped as the devil's own. this mark was always insensible to pain. those who had not yet been marked, received the mark from the master of the ceremonies; the devil at the same time bestowing nicknames upon them. this done, they all began to sing and dance in the most furious manner, until some one arrived who was anxious to be admitted into their society. they were then silent for a while, until the new-comer had denied his salvation, kissed the devil, spat upon the bible, and sworn obedience to him in all things. they then began dancing again with all their might, and singing these words, "alegremos, alegremos! que gente va tenemos!" in the course of an hour or two, they generally became wearied of this violent exercise, and then they all sat down and recounted the evil deeds they had done since their last meeting. those who had not been malicious and mischievous enough towards their fellow-creatures, received personal chastisement from satan himself, who flogged them with thorns or scorpions till they were covered with blood, and unable to sit or stand. when this ceremony was concluded, they were all amused by a dance of toads. thousands of these creatures sprang out of the earth; and standing on their hind-legs, danced, while the devil played the bagpipes or the trumpet. these toads were all endowed with the faculty of speech, and entreated the witches to reward them with the flesh of unbaptized babes for their exertions to give them pleasure. the witches promised compliance. the devil bade them remember to keep their word; and then stamping his foot, caused all the toads to sink into the earth in an instant. the place being thus cleared, preparation was made for the banquet, where all manner of disgusting things were served up and greedily devoured by the demons and witches; although the latter were sometimes regaled with choice meats and expensive wines from golden plates and crystal goblets; but they were never thus favoured unless they had done an extraordinary number of evil deeds since the last period of meeting. after the feast, they began dancing again; but such as had no relish for any more exercise in that way, amused themselves by mocking the holy sacrament of baptism. for this purpose, the toads were again called up, and sprinkled with filthy water; the devil making the sign of the cross, and all the witches calling out, "in nomine patrica, aragueaco petrica, agora! agora! valentia, jouando goure gaits goustia!" which meant, "in the name of patrick, petrick of aragon,--now, now, all our ills are over!" when the devil wished to be particularly amused, he made the witches strip off their clothes and dance before him, each with a cat tied round her neck, and another dangling from her body in form of a tail. when the cock crew, they all disappeared, and the sabbath was ended. this is a summary of the belief which prevailed for many centuries nearly all over europe, and which is far from eradicated even at this day. it was varied in some respects in several countries, but the main points were the same in france, germany, great britain, italy, spain, and the far north of europe. the early annals of france abound with stories of supposed sorcery, but it was not until the time of charlemagne that the crime acquired any great importance. "this monarch," says m. jules garinet, ["histoire de la magie en france. rois de la seconde race," page .] "had several times given orders that all necromancers, astrologers, and witches should be driven from his states; but as the number of criminals augmented daily, he found it necessary at last to resort to severer measures. in consequence, he published several edicts, which may be found at length in the 'capitulaire de baluse.' by these, every sort of magic, enchantment, and witchcraft was forbidden; and the punishment of death decreed against those who in any way evoked the devil--compounded love-philters--afflicted either man or woman with barrenness--troubled the atmosphere--excited tempests--destroyed the fruits of the earth--dried up the milk of cows, or tormented their fellow-creatures with sores and diseases. all persons found guilty of exercising these execrable arts, were to be executed immediately upon conviction, that the earth might be rid of the burthen and curse of their presence; and those even who consulted them might also be punished with death." [m. michaud, in his "history of the crusades," m. guinguene, in his "literary history of italy," and some other critics, have objected to tasso's poem, that he has attributed to the crusaders a belief in magic, which did not exist at that time. if these critics had referred to the edicts of charlemagne, they would have seen that tasso was right, and that a disposition too eager to spy out imperfections in a great work was leading themselves into error.] after this time, prosecutions for witchcraft are continually mentioned, especially by the french historians. it was a crime imputed with so much ease, and repelled with so much difficulty, that the powerful, whenever they wanted to ruin the weak, and could fix no other imputation upon them, had only to accuse them of witchcraft to ensure their destruction. instances, in which this crime was made the pretext for the most violent persecution, both of individuals and of communities, whose real offences were purely political or religious, must be familiar to every reader. the extermination of the stedinger, in ; of the templars, from to ; the execution of joan of arc, in ; and the unhappy scenes of arras, in ; are the most prominent. the first of these is perhaps the least known, but is not among the least remarkable. the following account, from dr. kortum's interesting history ["entstehungsgeschichte der freistadlischen bunde im mittelalter, von dr. f. kortum." .] of the republican confederacies of the middle ages, will show the horrible convenience of imputations of witchcraft, when royal or priestly wolves wanted a pretext for a quarrel with the sheep. the frieslanders, inhabiting the district from the weser to the zuydersee, had long been celebrated for their attachment to freedom, and their successful struggles in its defence. as early as the eleventh century, they had formed a general confederacy against the encroachments of the normans and the saxons, which was divided into seven seelands, holding annually a diet under a large oaktree at aurich, near the upstalboom. here they managed their own affairs, without the control of the clergy and ambitious nobles who surrounded them, to the great scandal of the latter. they already had true notions of a representative government. the deputies of the people levied the necessary taxes, deliberated on the affairs of the community, and performed, in their simple and patriarchal manner; nearly all the functions of the representative assemblies of the present day. finally, the archbishop of bremen, together with the count of oldenburg and other neighbouring potentates, formed a league against that section of the frieslanders, known by the name of the stedinger, and succeeded, after harassing them, and sowing dissensions among them for many years, in bringing them under the yoke. but the stedinger, devotedly attached to their ancient laws, by which they had attained a degree of civil and religious liberty very uncommon in that age, did not submit without a violent struggle. they arose in insurrection, in the year , in defence of the ancient customs of their country--refused to pay taxes to the feudal chiefs, or tithes to the clergy, who had forced themselves into their peaceful retreats, and drove out many of their oppressors. for a period of eight-and-twenty years the brave stedinger continued the struggle single-handed against the forces of the archbishops of bremen and the counts of oldenburg, and destroyed, in the year , the strong castle of slutterberg, near delmenhorst, built by the latter nobleman as a position from which he could send out his marauders to plunder and destroy the possessions of the peasantry. the invincible courage of these poor people proving too strong for their oppressors to cope with by the ordinary means of warfare, the archbishop of bremen applied to pope gregory ix. for his spiritual aid against them. that prelate entered cordially into the cause, and launching forth his anathema against the stedinger as heretics and witches, encouraged all true believers to assist in their extermination. a large body of thieves and fanatics broke into their country in the year , killing and burning wherever they went, and not sparing either women or children, the sick or the aged, in their rage. the stedinger, however, rallied in great force, routed their invaders, and killed in battle their leader, count burckhardt of oldenburg, with many inferior chieftains. again the pope was applied to, and a crusade against the stedinger was preached in all that part of germany. the pope wrote to all the bishops and leaders of the faithful an exhortation to arm, to root out from the land those abominable witches and wizards. "the stedinger," said his holiness, "seduced by the devil, have abjured all the laws of god and man; slandered the church--insulted the holy sacraments--consulted witches to raise evil spirits--shed blood like water--taken the lives of priests, and concocted an infernal scheme to propagate the worship of the devil, whom they adore under the name of asmodi. the devil appears to them in different shapes; sometimes as a goose or a duck, and at others in the figure of a pale, black-eyed youth, with a melancholy aspect, whose embrace fills their hearts with eternal hatred against the holy church of christ. this devil presides at their sabbaths, when they all kiss him and dance around him. he then envelopes them in total darkness, and they all, male and female, give themselves up to the grossest and most disgusting debauchery." in consequence of these letters of the pope, the emperor of germany, frederic ii, also pronounced his ban against them. the bishops of ratzebourg, lubeck, osnabruek, munster, and minden took up arms to exterminate them, aided by the duke of brabant, the counts of holland, of cloves, of the mark, of oldenburg, of egmond, of diest, and many other powerful nobles. an army of forty thousand men was soon collected, which marched, under the command of the duke of brabant, into the country of the stedinger. the latter mustered vigorously in defence of their lives and liberties, but could raise no greater force, including every man capable of bearing arms, than eleven thousand men to cope against the overwhelming numbers of their foe. they fought with the energy of despair, but all in vain. eight thousand of them were slain on the field of battle; the whole race was exterminated; and the enraged conquerors scoured the country in all directions--slew the women and children and old men--drove away the cattle--fired the woods and cottages, and made a total waste of the land. just as absurd and effectual was the charge brought against the templars in , when they had rendered themselves obnoxious to the potentates and prelacy of christendom. their wealth, their power, their pride, and their insolence had raised up enemies on every side; and every sort of accusation was made against them, but failed to work their overthrow, until the terrible cry of witchcraft was let loose upon them. this effected its object, and the templars were extirpated. they were accused of having sold their souls to the devil, and of celebrating all the infernal mysteries of the witches' sabbath. it was pretended that, when they admitted a novice into their order, they forced him to renounce his salvation and curse jesus christ; that they then made him submit to many unholy and disgusting ceremonies, and forced him to kiss the superior on the cheek, the navel, and the breech; and spit three times upon a crucifix. that all the members were forbidden to have connexion with women, but might give themselves up without restraint to every species of unmentionable debauchery. that when, by any mischance, a templar infringed this order, and a child was born, the whole order met, and tossed it about like a shuttlecock from one to the other until it expired; that they then roasted it by a slow fire, and with the fat which trickled from it anointed the hair and beard of a large image of the devil. it was also said that, when one of the knights died, his body was burnt into a powder, and then mixed with wine and drunk by every member of the order. philip iv, who, to exercise his own implacable hatred, invented, in all probability, the greater part of these charges, issued orders for the immediate arrest of all the templars in his dominions. the pope afterwards took up the cause with almost as much fervour as the king of france; and in every part of europe, the templars were thrown into prison and their goods and estates confiscated. hundreds of them, when put to the rack, confessed even the most preposterous of the charges against them, and by so doing, increased the popular clamour and the hopes of their enemies. it is true that, when removed from the rack, they denied all they had previously confessed; but this circumstance only increased the outcry, and was numbered as an additional crime against them. they were considered in a worse light than before, and condemned forthwith to the flames, as relapsed heretics. fifty-nine of these unfortunate victims were all burned together by a slow fire in a field in the suburbs of paris, protesting to the very last moment of their lives, their innocence of the crimes imputed to them, and refusing to accept of pardon upon condition of acknowledging themselves guilty. similar scenes were enacted in the provinces; and for four years, hardly a month passed without witnessing the execution of one or more of these unhappy men. finally, in , the last scene of this tragedy closed by the burning of the grand-master, jacques de molay, and his companion, guy, the commander of normandy. anything more atrocious it is impossible to conceive; disgraceful alike to the monarch who originated, the pope who supported, and the age which tolerated the monstrous iniquity. that the malice of a few could invent such a charge, is a humiliating thought for the lover of his species; but that millions of mankind should credit it, is still more so. the execution of joan of arc is the next most notorious example which history affords us, of the imputation of witchcraft against a political enemy. instances of similar persecution, in which this crime was made the pretext for the gratification of political or religious hatred, might be multiplied to a great extent. but it is better to proceed at once to the consideration of the bull of pope innocent, the torch that set fire to the longlaid train, and caused so fearful an explosion over the christian world. it will be necessary, however, to go back for some years anterior to that event, the better to understand the motives that influenced the church in the promulgation of that fearful document. towards the close of the fourteenth and beginning of the fifteenth century, many witches were burned in different parts of europe. as a natural consequence of the severe persecution, the crime, or the pretenders to it, increased. those who found themselves accused and threatened with the penalties, if they happened to be persons of a bad and malicious disposition, wished they had the power imputed to them, that they might be revenged upon their persecutors. numerous instances are upon record of half-crazed persons being found muttering the spells which were supposed to raise the evil one. when religion and law alike recognized the crime, it is no wonder that the weak in reason and the strong in imagination, especially when they were of a nervous temperament, fancied themselves endued with the terrible powers of which all the world was speaking. the belief of their neighbours did not lag behind their own, and execution was the speedy consequence. as the fear of witchcraft increased, the catholic clergy strove to fix the imputation of it upon those religious sects, the pioneers of the reformation, who began about this time to be formidable to the church of rome. if a charge of heresy could not ensure their destruction, that of sorcery and witchcraft never failed. in the year , a devoted congregation of the waldenses, at arras, who used to repair at night to worship god in their own manner in solitary places, fell victims to an accusation of sorcery. it was rumored in arras that in the desert places to which they retired, the devil appeared before them in human form, and read from a large book his laws and ordinances, to which they all promised obedience; that he then distributed money and food among them, to bind them to his service, which done, they gave themselves up to every species of lewdness and debauchery. upon these rumours, several creditable persons in arras were seized and imprisoned, together with a number of decrepit and idiotic old women. the rack, that convenient instrument for making the accused confess anything, was of course put in requisition. monstrelet, in his chronicle, says that they were tortured until some of them admitted the truth of the whole accusations, and said besides, that they had seen and recognized, in their nocturnal assemblies, many persons of rank; many prelates, seigneurs, governors of bailliages, and mayors of cities, being such names as the examiners had themselves suggested to the victims. several who had been thus informed against, were thrown into prison, and so horribly tortured, that reason fled, and, in their ravings of pain, they also confessed their midnight meetings with the devil, and the oaths they had taken to serve him. upon these confessions judgment was pronounced: the poor old women, as usual in such cases, were hanged and burned in the market-place; the more wealthy delinquents were allowed to escape, upon payment of large sums. it was soon after universally recognized that these trials had been conducted in the most odious manner, and that the judges had motives of private vengeance against many of the more influential persons who had been implicated. the parliament of paris afterwards declared the sentence illegal, and the judges iniquitous; but its arret was too late to be of service even to those who had paid the fine, or to punish the authorities who had misconducted themselves; for it was not delivered until thirty-two years after the executions had taken place. in the mean time, accusations of witchcraft spread rapidly in france, italy, and germany. strange to say, that although in the first instance chiefly directed against heretics, the latter were as firm believers in the crime as even the catholics themselves. in after times we also find that the lutherans and calvinists became greater witchburners than ever the romanists had been: so deeply was the prejudice rooted. every other point of belief was in dispute, but that was considered by every sect to be as well established as the authenticity of the scriptures, or the existence of a god. but at this early period of the epidemic the persecutions were directed by the heads of the catholic church. the spread of heresy betokened, it was thought, the coming of antichrist. florimond, in his work concerning the antichrist, lets us fully into the secret of these prosecutions. he says, "all who have afforded us some signs of the approach of antichrist agree that the increase of sorcery and witchcraft is to distinguish the melancholy period of his advent; and was ever age so afflicted as ours? the seats destined for criminals in our courts of justice are blackened with persons accused of this guilt. there are not judges enough to try them. our dungeons are gorged with them. no day passes that we do not render our tribunals bloody by the dooms which we pronounce, or in which we do not return to our homes, discountenanted and terrified at the horrible confessions which we have heard. and the devil is accounted so good a master, that we cannot commit so great a number of his slaves to the flames, but what there shall arise from their ashes a sufficient number to supply their place." florimond here spoke the general opinion of the church of rome; but it never suggested itself to the mind of any person engaged in these trials, that if it were indeed a devil, who raised up so many new witches to fill the places of those consumed, it was no other than one in their own employ--the devil of persecution. but so it was. the more they burned, the more they found to burn; until it became a common prayer with women in the humbler walks of life, that they might never live to grow old. it was sufficient to be aged, poor, and ill-tempered, to ensure death at the stake or the scaffold. in the year there was a severe storm in switzerland, which laid waste the country for four miles around constance. two wretched old women, whom the popular voice had long accused of witchcraft, were arrested on the preposterous charge of having raised the tempest. the rack was displayed, and the two poor creatures extended upon it. in reply to various leading questions from their tormentors, they owned, in their agony, that they were in the constant habit of meeting the devil, that they had sold their souls to him, and that at their command he had raised the tempest. upon this insane and blasphemous charge they were condemned to die. in the criminal registers of constance there stands against the name of each the simple but significant phrase, "convicta et combusta." this case and hundreds of others were duly reported to the ecclesiastical powers. there happened at that time to be a pontiff at the head of the church who had given much of his attention to the subject of witchcraft, and who, with the intent of rooting out the crime, did more to increase it than any other man that ever lived. john baptist cibo, elected to the papacy in , under the designation of innocent viii, was sincerely alarmed at the number of witches, and launched forth his terrible manifesto against them. in his celebrated bull of , he called the nations of europe to the rescue of the church of christ upon earth, emperilled by the arts of satan, and set forth the horrors that had reached his ears; how that numbers of both sexes had intercourse with the infernal fiends; how by their sorceries they afflicted both man and beast; how they blighted the marriage bed, destroyed the births of women and the increase of cattle; and how they blasted the corn on the ground, the grapes of the vineyard, the fruits of the trees, and the herbs of the field. in order that criminals so atrocious might no longer pollute the earth, he appointed inquisitors in every country, armed with the apostolic power to convict and punish. it was now that the witch mania, properly so called, may be said to have fairly commenced. immediately a class of men sprang up in europe, who made it the sole business of their lives to discover and burn the witches. sprenger, in germany, was the most celebrated of these national scourges. in his notorious work, the "malleus maleficarum," he laid down a regular form of trial, and appointed a course of examination by which the inquisitors in other countries might best discover the guilty. the questions, which were always enforced by torture, were of the most absurd and disgusting nature. the inquisitors were required to ask the suspected whether they had midnight meetings with the devil? whether they attended the witch's sabbath on the brocken? whether they had their familiar spirits? whether they could raise whirlwinds and call down the lightning? and whether they had sexual intercourse with satan? straightway the inquisitors set to work; cumarius, in italy, burned forty-one poor women in one province alone, and sprenger, in germany, burned a number which can never be ascertained correctly, but which, it is agreed on all hands, amounted to more than five hundred in a year. the great resemblance between the confessions of the unhappy victims was regarded as a new proof of the existence of the crime. but this is not astonishing. the same questions from the "malleus maleficarum," were put to them all, and torture never failed to educe the answer required by the inquisitor. numbers of people whose imaginations were filled with these horrors, went further in the way of confession than even their tormenters anticipated, in the hope that they would thereby be saved from the rack, and put out of their misery at once. some confessed that they had had children by the devil; but no one, who had ever been a mother, gave utterance to such a frantic imagining, even in the extremity of her anguish. the childless only confessed it, and were burned instanter as unworthy to live. for fear the zeal of the enemies of satan should cool, successive popes appointed new commissions. one was appointed by alexander vi, in ; another by leo x, in , and a third by adrian vi, in . they were all armed with the same powers to hunt out and destroy, and executed their fearful functions but too rigidly. in geneva alone five hundred persons were burned in the years and , under the title of protestant witches. it would appear that their chief crime was heresy, and their witchcraft merely an aggravation. bartolomeo de spina has a list still more fearful. he informs us that, in the year , no less than a thousand persons suffered death for witchcraft in the district of como, and that for several years afterwards the average number of victims exceeded a hundred annually. one inquisitor, remigius, took great credit to himself for having, during fifteen years, convicted and burned nine hundred. in france, about the year , fires for the execution of witches blazed in almost every town. danaeus, in his "dialogues of witches," says they were so numerous that it would be next to impossible to tell the number of them. so deep was the thraldom of the human mind, that the friends and relatives of the accused parties looked on and approved. the wife or sister of a murderer might sympathise in his fate, but the wives and husbands of sorcerers and witches had no pity. the truth is that pity was dangerous, for it was thought no one could have compassion on the sufferings of a witch who was not a dabbler in the art: to have wept for a witch would have insured the stake. in some districts, however, the exasperation of the people broke out, in spite of superstition. the inquisitor of a rural township in piedmont burned the victims so plentifully, and so fast, that there was not a family in the place which did not lose a member. the people at last arose, and the inquisitor was but too happy to escape from the country with whole limbs. the archbishop of the diocese proceeded afterwards to the trial of such as the inquisitor had left in prison. some of the charges were so utterly preposterous that the poor wretches were at once liberated; others met a harder, but the usual fate. some of them were accused of having joined the witches' dance at midnight under a blasted oak, where they had been seen by creditable people. the husbands of several of these women (two of whom were young and beautiful) swore positively that at the time stated their wives were comfortably asleep in their arms; but it was all in vain. their word was taken, but the archbishop told them they had been deceived by the devil and their own senses. it was true they might have had the semblance of their wives in their beds, but the originals were far away, at the devil's dance under the oak. the honest fellows were confounded, and their wives burned forthwith. in the year , five poor women of verneuil were accused of transforming themselves into cats, and in that shape attending the sabbath of the fiends--prowling around satan, who presided over them in the form of a goat, and dancing, to amuse him, upon his back. they were found guilty, and burned. [bodin, page . garinet, page . "anti-demon de serclier," page .] in , three wizards and a witch appeared before the presidents salvert and d'avanton: they confessed, when extended on the rack, that they anointed the sheep-pens with infernal unguents to kill the sheep--that they attended the sabbath, where they saw a great black goat, which spoke to them, and made them kiss him, each holding a lighted candle in his hand while he performed the ceremony. they were all executed at poitiers. in , the celebrated sorcerer, trois echelles, was burned in the place de greve, in paris. he confessed, in the presence of charles ix, and of the marshals de montmorency, de retz, and the sieur du mazille, physician to the king, that he could perform the most wonderful things by the aid of a devil to whom he had sold himself. he described at great length the saturnalia of the fiends--the sacrifices which they offered up--the debaucheries they committed with the young and handsome witches, and the various modes of preparing the infernal unguent for blighting cattle. he said he had upwards of twelve hundred accomplices in the crime of witchcraft in various parts of france, whom he named to the king, and many of whom were afterwards arrested and suffered execution. at dole, two years afterwards, gilles garnier, a native of lyons, was indicted for being a loupgarou, or man-wolf, and for prowling in that shape about the country at night to devour little children. the indictment against him, as read by henri camus, doctor of laws and counsellor of the king, was to the effect that he, gilles garnier, had seized upon a little girl, twelve years of age, whom he drew into a vineyard and there killed, partly with his teeth and partly with his hands, seeming like wolf's paws--that from thence he trailed her bleeding body along the ground with his teeth into the wood of la serre, where he ate the greatest portion of her at one meal, and carried the remainder home to his wife; that, upon another occasion, eight days before the festival of all saints, he was seen to seize another child in his teeth, and would have devoured her had she not been rescued by the country-people--and that the said child died a few days afterwards of the injuries he had inflicted; that fifteen days after the same festival of all saints, being again in the shape of a wolf, he devoured a boy thirteen years of age, having previously torn off his leg and thigh with his teeth, and hid them away for his breakfast on the morrow. he was, furthermore, indicted for giving way to the same diabolical and unnatural propensities even in his shape of a man, and that he had strangled a boy in a wood with the intention of eating him, which crime he would have effected if he had not been seen by the neighhours and prevented. gilles garnier was put to the rack, after fifty witnesses had deposed against him: he confessed everything that was laid to his charge. he was, thereupon, brought back into the presence of his judges, when dr. camus, in the name of the parliament of dole, pronounced the following sentence:-- "seeing that gilles garnier has, by the testimony of credible witnesses, and by his own spontaneous confession, been proved guilty of the abominable crimes of lycanthropy and witchcraft, this court condemns him, the said gilles, to be this day taken in a cart from this spot to the place of execution, accompanied by the executioner (maitre executeur de la haute justice), where he, by the said executioner, shall be tied to a stake and burned alive, and that his ashes be then scattered to the winds. the court further condemns him, the said gilles, to the costs of this prosecution." "given at dole, this th day of january, ." in , the parliament of paris was occupied for several days with the trial of a man, named jacques roller. he, also, was found guilty of being a loup-garou, and in that shape devouring a little boy. he was burnt alive in the place de greve. in , so much alarm was excited in the neighbourhood of melun by the increase of witches and loup-garous, that a council was held to devise some measures to stay the evil. a decree was passed, that all witches, and consulters with witches, should be punished with death; and not only those, but fortune-tellers and conjurors of every kind. the parliament of rouen took up the same question in the following year, and decreed that the possession of a grimoire, or book of spells, was sufficient evidence of witchcraft; and that all persons on whom such books were found should be burned alive. three councils were held in different parts of france in the year , all in relation to the same subject. the parliament of bourdeaux issued strict injunctions to all curates and clergy whatever, to use redoubled efforts to root out the crime of witchcraft. the parliament of tours was equally peremptory, and feared the judgments of an offended god, if all these dealers with the devil were not swept from the face of the land. the parliament of rheims was particularly severe against the noueurs d'aiguillette, or "tyers of the knot;" people of both sexes, who took pleasure in preventing the consummation of marriage, that they might counteract the command of god to our first parents, to increase and multiply. this parliament held it to be sinful to wear amulets to preserve from witchcraft; and that this practice might not be continued within its jurisdiction, drew up a form of exorcism, which would more effectually defeat the agents of the devil, and put them to flight. a case of witchcraft, which created a great sensation in its day, occurred in , at a village in the mountains of auvergne, about two leagues from apchon. a gentleman of that place being at his window, there passed a friend of his who had been out hunting, and who was then returning to his own house. the gentleman asked his friend what sport he had had; upon which the latter informed him that he had been attacked in the plain by a large and savage wolf, which he had shot at, without wounding; and that he had then drawn out his hunting-knife and cut off the animal's fore-paw, as it sprang upon his neck to devour him. the huntsman, upon this, put his hand into his bag to pull out the paw, but was shocked to find that it was a woman's hand, with a wedding-ring on the finger. the gentleman immediately recognized his wife's ring, "which," says the indictment against her, "made him begin to suspect some evil of her." he immediately went in search of her, and found her sitting by the fire in the kitchen, with her arm hidden underneath her apron. he tore off her apron with great vehemence, and found that she had no hand, and that the stump was even then bleeding. she was given into custody, and burned at riom in presence of some thousands of spectators. [tablier. see also boguet, "discours sur les sorciers;" and m. jules garinet, "histoire de la magie," page .] in the midst of these executions, rare were the gleams of mercy; few instances are upon record of any acquittal taking place when the charge was witchcraft. the discharge of fourteen persons by the parliament of paris, in the year , is almost a solitary example of a return to reason. fourteen persons, condemned to death for witchcraft, appealed against the judgment to the parliament of paris, which for political reasons had been exiled to tours. the parliament named four commissioners, pierre pigray, the king's surgeon, and messieurs leroi, renard, and falaiseau, the king's physicians, to visit and examine these witches, and see whether they had the mark of the devil upon them. pigray, who relates the circumstance in his work on surgery, book vii, chapter the tenth, says the visit was made in presence of two counsellors of the court. the witches were all stripped naked, and the physicians examined their bodies very diligently, pricking them in all the marks they could find, to see whether they were insensible to pain, which was always considered a certain proof of guilt. they were, however, very sensible of the pricking, and some of them called out very lustily when the pins were driven into them. "we found them," continues pierre pigray, "to be very poor, stupid people, and some of them insane; many of them were quite indifferent about life, and one or two of them desired death as a relief for their sufferings. our opinion was, that they stood more in need of medicine than of punishment, and so we reported to the parliament. their case was, thereupon, taken into further consideration, and the parliament, after mature counsel amongst all the members, ordered the poor creatures to be sent to their homes, without inflicting any punishment upon them." such was the dreadful state of italy, germany, and france, during the sixteenth century, which was far from being the worst crisis of the popular madness with regard to witchcraft. let us see what was the state of england during the same period. the reformation, which in its progress had rooted out so many errors, stopped short at this, the greatest error of all. luther and calvin were as firm believers in witchcraft as pope innocent himself, and their followers showed themselves more zealous persecutors than the romanists. dr. hutchinson, in his work on witchcraft, asserts that the mania manifested itself later in england, and raged with less virulence than on the continent. the first assertion only is true; but though the persecution began later both in england and scotland, its progress was as fearful as elsewhere. it was not until more than fifty years after the issuing of the bull of innocent viii. that the legislature of england thought fit to make any more severe enactments against sorcery than those already in operation. the statute of was the first that specified the particular crime of witchcraft. at a much earlier period, many persons had suffered death for sorcery in addition to other offences; but no executions took place for attending the witches' sabbath, raising tempests, afflicting cattle with barrenness, and all the fantastic trumpery of the continent. two statutes were passed in ; the first, relating to false prophecies, caused mainly, no doubt, by the impositions of elizabeth barton, the holy maid of kent, in , and the second against conjuration, witchcraft, and sorcery. but even this enactment did not consider witchcraft as penal in itself, and only condemned to death those who by means of spells, incantations, or contracts with the devil, attempted the lives of their neighbours. the statute of elizabeth, in , at last recognized witchcraft as a crime of the highest magnitude, whether exerted or not to the injury of the lives, limbs, and possessions of the community. from that date, the persecution may be fairly said to have commenced in england. it reached its climax in the early part of the seventeenth century, which was the hottest period of the mania all over europe. a few cases of witch persecution in the sixteenth century will enable the reader to form a more accurate idea of the progress of this great error than if he plunged at once into that busy period of its history when matthew hopkins and his coadjutors exercised their infernal calling. several instances occur in england during the latter years of the reign of elizabeth. at this time the public mind had become pretty familiar with the details of the crime. bishop jewell, in his sermons before her majesty, used constantly to conclude them by a fervent prayer that she might be preserved from witches. upon one occasion, in , his words were, "it may please your grace to understand that witches and sorcerers, within these last four years, are marvellously increased within this your grace's realm. your grace's subjects pine away even unto the death; their colour fadeth--their flesh rotteth--their speech is benumbed--their senses are bereft! i pray god they may never practise further than upon the subject!" by degrees, an epidemic terror of witchcraft spread into the villages. in proportion as the doctrines of the puritans took root this dread increased, and, of course, brought persecution in its train. the church of england has claimed, and is entitled to the merit, of having been less influenced in these matters than any other sect of christians; but still they were tainted with the superstition of the age. one of the most flagrant instances of cruelty and delusion upon record was consummated under the authority of the church, and commemorated till a very late period by an annual lecture at the university of cambridge. this is the celebrated case of the witches of warbois, who were executed about thirty-two years after the passing of the statute of elizabeth. although in the interval but few trials are recorded, there is, unfortunately, but too much evidence to show the extreme length to which the popular prejudice was carried. many women lost their lives in every part of england without being brought to trial at all, from the injuries received at the hands of the people. the number of these can never be ascertained. the case of the witches of warbois merits to be detailed at length, not only from the importance attached to it for so many years by the learned of the university, but from the singular absurdity of the evidence upon which men, sensible in all other respects, could condemn their fellow-creatures to the scaffold. the principal actors in this strange drama were the families of sir samuel cromwell and a mr. throgmorton, both gentlemen of landed property near warbois, in the county of huntingdon. mr. throgmorton had several daughters, the eldest of whom, mistress joan, was an imaginative and melancholy girl, whose head was filled with stories of ghosts and witches. upon one occasion she chanced to pass the cottage of one mrs. or, as she was called, mother samuel, a very aged, a very poor, and a very ugly woman. mother samuel was sitting at her door knitting, with a black cap upon her head, when this silly young lady passed, and taking her eyes from her work she looked steadfastly at her. mistress joan immediately fancied that she felt sudden pains in all her limbs, and from that day forth, never ceased to tell her sisters, and everybody about her, that mother samuel had bewitched her. the other children took up the cry, and actually frightened themselves into fits whenever they passed within sight of this terrible old woman. mr. and mrs. throgmorton, not a whir wiser than their children, believed all the absurd tales they had been told; and lady cromwell, a gossip of mrs. throgmorton, made herself very active in the business, and determined to bring the witch to the ordeal. the sapient sir samuel joined in the scheme; and the children thus encouraged gave loose reins to their imaginations, which seem to have been of the liveliest. they soon invented a whole host of evil spirits, and names for them besides, which, they said, were sent by mother samuel to torment them continually. seven spirits especially, they said, were raised from hell by this wicked woman to throw them into fits; and as the children were actually subject to fits, their mother and her commeres gave the more credit to the story. the names of these spirits were, "first smack," "second smack," "third smack," "blue," "catch," "hardname," and "pluck." throgmorton, the father, was so pestered by these idle fancies, and yet so well inclined to believe them, that he marched valiantly forth to the hut where mother samuel resided with her husband and daughter, and dragged her forcibly into his own grounds. lady cromwell, mrs. throgmorton, and the girls were in waiting, armed with long pins to prick the witch, and see if they could draw blood from her. lady cromwell, who seems to have been the most violent of the party, tore the old woman's cap off her head, and plucking out a handful of her grey hair, gave it to mrs. throgmorton to burn, as a charm which would preserve them all from her future machinations. it was no wonder that the poor creature, subjected to this rough usage, should give vent to an involuntary curse upon her tormentors. she did so, and her curse was never forgotten. her hair, however, was supposed to be a grand specific, and she was allowed to depart, half dead with terror and ill usage. for more than a year, the families of cromwell and throgmorton continued to persecute her, and to assert that her imps afflicted them with pains and fits, turned the milk sour in their pans, and prevented their cows and ewes from bearing. in the midst of these fooleries, lady cromwell was taken ill and died. it was then remembered that her death had taken place exactly a year and a quarter since she was cursed by mother samuel, and that on several occasions she had dreamed of the witch and a black cat, the latter being of course the arch-enemy of mankind himself. sir samuel cromwell now conceived himself bound to take more energetic measures against the sorceress, since he had lost his wife by her means. the year and a quarter and the black cat were proofs positive. all the neighbours had taken up the cry of witchcraft against mother samuel; and her personal appearance, unfortunately for her, the very ideal of what a witch ought to be, increased the popular suspicion. it would appear that at last the poor woman believed, even to her own disadvantage, that she was what everybody represented her to be. being forcibly brought into mr. throgmorton's house, when his daughter joan was in one of her customary fits, she was commanded by him and sir samuel cromwell to expel the devil from the young lady. she was told to repeat her exorcism, and to add, "as i am a witch, and the causer of lady cromwell's death, i charge thee, fiend, to come out of her!" she did as was required of her, and moreover confessed that her husband and daughter were leagued with her in witchcraft, and had, like her, sold their souls to the devil. the whole family were immediately arrested, and sent to huntingdon to prison. the trial was instituted shortly afterwards before mr. justice fenner, when all the crazy girls of mr. throgmorton's family gave evidence against mother samuel and her family. they were all three put to the torture. the old woman confessed in her anguish that she was a witch--that she had cast her spells upon the young ladies, and that she had caused the death of lady cromwell. the father and daughter, stronger in mind than their unfortunate wife and parent, refused to confess anything, and asserted their innocence to the last. they were all three condemned to be hanged, and their bodies burned. the daughter, who was young and good-looking, excited the pity of many persons, and she was advised to plead pregnancy, that she might gain at least a respite from death. the poor girl refused proudly, on the ground that she would not be accounted both a witch and a strumpet. her half-witted old mother caught at the idea of a few weeks' longer life, and asserted that she was pregnant. the court was convulsed with laughter, in which the wretched victim herself joined, and this was accounted an additional proof that she was a witch. the whole family were executed on the th of april, . sir samuel cromwell, as lord of the manor, received the sum of pounds out of the confiscated property of the samuels, which he turned into a rent-charge of shillings yearly, for the endowment of an annual sermon or lecture upon the enormity of witchcraft, and this case in particular, to be preached by a doctor or bachelor of divinity of queen's college, cambridge. i have not been able to ascertain the exact date at which this annual lecture was discontinued, but it appears to have been preached so late as , when dr. hutchinson published his work upon witchcraft. to carry on in proper chronological order the history of the witch delusion in the british isles, it will be necessary to examine into what was taking place in scotland during all that part of the sixteenth century anterior to the accession of james vi. to the crown of england. we naturally expect that the scotch,--a people renowned from the earliest times for their powers of imagination,--should be more deeply imbued with this gloomy superstition than their neighhours of the south. the nature of their soil and climate tended to encourage the dreams of early ignorance. ghosts, goblins, wraiths, kelpies, and a whole host of spiritual beings, were familiar to the dwellers by the misty glens of the highlands and the romantic streams of the lowlands. their deeds, whether of good or ill, were enshrined in song, and took a greater hold upon the imagination because "verse had sanctified them." but it was not till the religious reformers began the practice of straining scripture to the severest extremes, that the arm of the law was called upon to punish witchcraft as a crime per se. what pope innocent viii. had done for germany and france, the preachers of the reformation did for the scottish people. witchcraft, instead of being a mere article of faith, became enrolled in the statute book; and all good subjects and true christians were called upon to take arms against it. the ninth parliament of queen mary passed an act in , which decreed the punishment of death against witches and consulters with witches, and immediately the whole bulk of the people were smitten with an epidemic fear of the devil and his mortal agents. persons in the highest ranks of life shared and encouraged the delusion of the vulgar. many were themselves accused of witchcraft; and noble ladies were shown to have dabbled in mystic arts, and proved to the world that, if they were not witches, it was not for want of the will. among the dames who became notorious for endeavouring to effect their wicked ends by the devil's aid, may be mentioned the celebrated lady buccleugh, of branxholme, familiar to all the readers of sir walter scott; the countess of lothian, the countess of angus, the countess of athol, lady kerr, the countess of huntley, euphemia macalzean (the daughter of lord cliftonhall), and lady fowlis. among the celebrated of the other sex who were accused of wizzardism was sir lewis ballantyne, the lord justice clerk for scotland, who, if we may believe scot of scotstarvet, "dealt by curiosity with a warlock called richard grahame," and prayed him to raise the devil. the warlock consented, and raised him in propria persona, in the yard of his house in the canongate, "at sight of whom the lord justice clerk was so terrified that he took sickness and thereof died." by such idle reports as these did the envious ruin the reputation of those they hated, though it would appear in this case that sir lewis had been fool enough to make the attempt of which he was accused, and that the success of the experiment was the only apocryphal part of the story. the enemies of john knox invented a similar tale, which found ready credence among the roman catholics; glad to attach any stigma to that grand scourge of the vices of their church. it was reported that he and his secretary went into the churchyard of st. andrew's with the intent to raise "some sanctes;" but that, by a mistake in their conjurations, they raised the great fiend himself, instead of the saints they wished to consult. the popular rumour added that knox's secretary was so frightened at the great horns, goggle eyes, and long tail of satan, that he went mad, and shortly afterwards died. knox himself was built of sterner stuff, and was not to be frightened. the first name that occurs in the records of the high court of justiciary of persons tried or executed for witchcraft is that of janet bowman, in , nine years after the passing of the act of mary. no particulars of her crimes are given, and against her name there only stand the words, "convict and brynt." it is not, however, to be inferred that, in this interval, no trials or executions took place; for it appears on the authority of documents of unquestioned authenticity in the advocates' library at edinburgh, [foreign quarterly review, vol. vi. page .] that the privy council made a practice of granting commissions to resident gentlemen and ministers, in every part of scotland, to examine, try, and execute witches within their own parishes. no records of those who suffered from the sentence of these tribunals have been preserved; but if popular tradition may be believed, even to the amount of one-fourth of its assertions, their number was fearful. after the year , the entries of executions for witchcraft in the records of the high court become more frequent, but do not average more than one per annum; another proof that trials for this offence were in general entrusted to the local magistracy. the latter appear to have ordered witches to the stake with as little compunction, and after as summary a mode, as modern justices of the peace order a poacher to the stocks. as james vi. advanced in manhood, he took great interest in the witch trials. one of them especially, that of gellie duncan, dr. fian, and their accomplices, in the year , engrossed his whole attention, and no doubt suggested in some degree, the famous work on demonology which he wrote shortly afterwards. as these witches had made an attempt upon his own life, it is not surprising, with his habits, that he should have watched the case closely, or become strengthened in his prejudice and superstition by its singular details. no other trial that could be selected would give so fair an idea of the delusions of the scottish people as this. whether we consider the number of victims, the absurdity of the evidence, and the real villany of some of the persons implicated, it is equally extraordinary. gellie duncan, the prime witch in these proceedings, was servant to the deputy bailiff of tranent, a small town in hadingtonshire, about ten miles from edinburgh. though neither old nor ugly (as witches usually were), but young and good-looking, her neighbours, from some suspicious parts of her behaviour, had long considered her a witch. she had, it appears, some pretensions to the healing art. some cures which she effected were so sudden, that the worthy bailiff, her master, who, like his neighbours, mistrusted her, considered them no less than miraculous. in order to discover the truth, he put her to the torture; but she obstinately refused to confess that she had dealings with the devil. it was the popular belief that no witch would confess as long as the mark which satan had put upon her remained undiscovered upon her body. somebody present reminded the torturing bailie of this fact, and on examination, the devil's mark was found upon the throat of poor gellie. she was put to the torture again, and her fortitude giving way under the extremity of her anguish, she confessed that she was indeed a witch--that she had sold her soul to the devil, and effected all her cures by his aid. this was something new in the witch creed, according to which, the devil delighted more in laying diseases on, than in taking them off; but gellie duncan fared no better on that account. the torture was still applied, until she had named all her accomplices, among whom were one cunningham, a reputed wizard, known by the name of dr. fian, a grave and matron-like witch, named agnes sampson, euphemia macalzean, the daughter of lord cliftonhall, already mentioned, and nearly forty other persons, some of whom were the wives of respectable individuals in the city of edinburgh. every one of these persons was arrested, and the whole realm of scotland thrown into commotion by the extraordinary nature of the disclosures which were anticipated. about two years previous to this time, james had suddenly left his kingdom, and proceeded gallantly to denmark, to fetch over his bride, the princess of denmark, who had been detained by contrary weather in the harbour of upslo. after remaining for some months in copenhagen, he set sail with his young bride, and arrived safely in leith, on the st of may , having experienced a most boisterous passage, and been nearly wrecked. as soon as the arrest of gellie duncan and fian became known in scotland, it was reported by everybody who pretended to be well-informed that these witches and their associates had, by the devil's means, raised the storms which had endangered the lives of the king and queen. gellie, in her torture, had confessed that such was the fact, and the whole kingdom waited aghast and open-mouthed for the corroboration about to be furnished by the trial. agnes sampson, the "grave and matron-like" witch implicated by gellie duncan, was put to the horrible torture of the pilliewinkis. she laid bare all the secrets of the sisterhood before she had suffered an hour, and confessed that gellie duncan, dr. fian, marion lineup, euphemia macalzean, herself, and upwards of two hundred witches and warlocks, used to assemble at midnight in the kirk of north berwick, where they met the devil; that they had plotted there to attempt the king's life; that they were incited to this by the old fiend himself, who had asserted with a thundering oath that james was the greatest enemy he ever had, and that there would be no peace for the devil's children upon earth until he were got rid of; that the devil upon these occasions always liked to have a little music, and that gellie duncan used to play a reel before him on a trump or jew's harp, to which all the witches danced. james was highly flattered at the idea that the devil should have said that he was the greatest enemy he ever had. he sent for gellie duncan to the palace, and made her play before him the same reel which she had played at the witches' dance in the kirk. dr. fian, or rather cunningham, a petty schoolmaster at tranent, was put to the torture among the rest. he was a man who had led an infamous life, was a compounder of and dealer in poisons, and a pretender to magic. though not guilty of the preposterous crimes laid to his charge, there is no doubt that he was a sorcerer in will, though not in deed, and that he deserved all the misery he endured. when put on the rack, he would confess nothing, and held out so long unmoved, that the severe torture of the boots was resolved upon. he endured this till exhausted nature could bear no longer, when insensibility kindly stepped in to his aid. when it was seen that he was utterly powerless, and that his tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth, he was released. restoratives were administered; and during the first faint gleam of returning consciousness, he was prevailed upon to sign, ere he well knew what he was about, a full confession, in strict accordance with those of gellie duncan and agnes sampson. he was then remanded to his prison, from which, after two days, he managed, somehow or other, to escape. he was soon recaptured, and brought before the court of justiciary, james himself being present. fian now denied all the circumstances of the written confession which he had signed; whereupon the king, enraged at his "stubborn wilfulness," ordered him once more to the torture. his finger nails were riven out with pincers, and long needles thrust up to the eye into the quick; but still he did not wince. he was then consigned again to the boots, in which, to quote a pamphlet published at the time, [news from scotland, declaring the damnable life of dr. fian.] he continued "so long, and abode so many blows in them, that his legs were crushed and beaten together as small as might be, and the bones and flesh so bruised, that the blood and marrow spouted forth in great abundance, whereby they were made unserviceable for ever." the astonishing similarity of the confessions of all the persons implicated in these proceedings has often been remarked. it would appear that they actually endeavoured to cause the king's death by their spells and sorceries. fian, who was acquainted with all the usual tricks of his profession, deceived them with pretended apparitions, so that many of them were really convinced that they had seen the devil. the sum of their confessions was to the following effect:-- satan, who was, of course, a great foe of the reformed religion, was alarmed that king james should marry a protestant princess. to avert the consequences to the realms of evil, he had determined to put an end to the king and his bride by raising a storm on their voyage home. satan, first of all, sent a thick mist over the waters, in the hope that the king's vessel might be stranded on the coast amid the darkness. this failing, dr. fian, who, from his superior scholarship, was advanced to the dignity of the devil's secretary, was commanded to summon all the witches to meet their master, each one sailing on a sieve on the high seas. on all-hallowmas eve, they assembled to the number of upwards of two hundred, including gellie duncan, agnes sampson, euphemia macalzean, one barbara napier, and several warlocks; and each embarking in a riddle, or sieve, they sailed "over the ocean very substantially." after cruising about for some time, they met with the fiend, bearing in his claws a cat, which had been previously drawn nine times through the fire. this he delivered to one of the warlocks, telling him to cast it into the sea, and cry "hola!" this was done with all solemnity, and immediately the ocean became convulsed--the waters hissed loudly, and the waves rose mountains high, "twisting their arms to the dun-coloured heaven." the witches sailed gallantly through the tempest they had raised, and landing on the coast of scotland, took their sieves in their hands, and marched on in procession to the haunted kirk of north berwick, where the devil had resolved to hold a preaching. gellie duncan, the musician of the party, tripped on before, playing on her jew's harp, and singing, "cummer, go ye before, cummer, go ye; gif ye will not go before, cummer, let me!" arrived at the kirk, they paced around it withershins, that is, in reverse of the apparent motion of the sun. dr. fian then blew into the key-hole of the door, which opened immediately, and all the witches entered. as it was pitch dark, fian blew with his mouth upon the candles, which immediately lighted, and the devil was seen occupying the pulpit. he was attired in a black gown and hat, and the witches saluted him, by crying, "all hail, master!" his body was hard, like iron; his face terrible; his nose, like the beak of an eagle; he had great burning eyes; his hands and legs were hairy; and he had long claws upon his hands and feet, and spake with an exceedingly gruff voice. before commencing his sermon, he called over the names of his congregation, demanding whether they had been good servants, and what success had attended their operations against the life of the king and his bride. gray meill, a crazy old warlock, who acted as beadle or doorkeeper, was silly enough to answer, "that nothing ailed the king yet, god be thanked;" upon which the devil, in a rage, stepped down from the pulpit, and boxed his ears for him. he then remounted, and commenced the preaching, commanding them to be dutiful servants to him, and do all the evil they could. euphemia macalzean and agnes sampson, bolder than the rest, asked him whether he had brought the image or picture of king james, that they might, by pricking it, cause pains and diseases to fall upon him. "the father of lies" spoke truth for once, and confessed that he had forgotten it; upon which euphemia macalzean upbraided him loudly for his carelessness. the devil, however, took it all in good part, although agnes sampson and several other women let loose their tongues at him immediately. when they had done scolding, he invited them all to a grand entertainment. a newly buried corpse was dug up, and divided among them, which was all they had in the way of edibles. he was more liberal in the matter of drink, and gave them so much excellent wine that they soon became jolly. gellie duncan then played the old tune upon her trump, and the devil himself led off the dance with euphemia mac alzean. thus they kept up the sport till the cock crew. agnes sampson, the wise woman of keith, as she was called, added some other particulars in her confession. she stated, that on a previous occasion, she had raised an awful tempest in the sea, by throwing a cat into it, with four joints of men tied to its feet. she said also, that on their grand attempt to drown king james, they did not meet with the devil after cruising about, but that he had accompanied them from the first, and that she had seen him dimly in the distance, rolling himself before them over the great waves, in shape and size not unlike a huge haystack. they met with a foreign ship richly laden with wines and other good things, which they boarded, and sunk after they had drunk all the wine, and made themselves quite merry. some of these disclosures were too much even for the abundant faith of king james, and he more than once exclaimed, that the witches were like their master, "extreme lyars." but they confessed many other things of a less preposterous nature, and of which they were, no doubt, really guilty. agnes sampson said she was to have taken the king's life by anointing his linen with a strong poison. gellie duncan used to threaten her neighbours by saying she would send the devil after them; and many persons of weaker minds than usual were frightened into fits by her, and rendered subject to them for the remainder of their lives. dr. finn also made no scruple in aiding and abetting murder, and would rid any person of an enemy by means of poison, who could pay him his fee for it. euphemia macalzean also was far from being pure. there is no doubt that she meditated the king's death, and used such means to compass it as the superstition of the age directed. she was a devoted partizan of bothwell, who was accused by many of the witches as having consulted them on the period of the king's death. they were all found guilty, and sentenced to be hanged and burned. barbara napier, though found guilty upon other counts, was acquitted upon the charge of having been present at the great witch-meeting in berwick kirk. the king was highly displeased, and threatened to have the jury indicted for a wilful error upon an assize. they accordingly reconsidered their verdict, and threw themselves upon the king's mercy for the fault they had committed. james was satisfied, and barbara napier was hanged along with gellie duncan, agnes sampson, dr. fian, and five-and-twenty others. euphemia macalzean met a harder fate. her connexion with the bold and obnoxious bothwell, and her share in poisoning one or two individuals who had stood in her way, were thought deserving of the severest punishment the law could inflict. instead of the ordinary sentence, directing the criminal to be first strangled and then burned, the wretched woman was doomed "to be bound to a stake, and burned in ashes, quick to the death." this cruel sentence was executed on the th of june . these trials had the most pernicious consequences all over scotland. the lairds and ministers in their districts, armed with due power from the privy council, tried and condemned old women after the most summary fashion. those who still clung to the ancient faith of rome were the severest sufferers, as it was thought, after the disclosures of the fierce enmity borne by the devil towards a protestant king and his protestant wife, that all the catholics were leagued with the powers of evil to work woe on the realm of scotland. upon a very moderate calculation, it is presumed that from the passing of the act of queen mary till the accession of james to the throne of england, a period of thirty-nine years, the average number of executions for witchcraft in scotland was two hundred annually, or upwards of seventeen thousand altogether. for the first nine years the number was not one quarter so great; but towards the years to , the number must have been more than four hundred. the case last cited was one of an extraordinary character. the general aspect of the trials will be better seen from that of isabel gowdie, which, as it would be both wearisome and disgusting to go through them all, is cited as a fair specimen, although it took place at a date somewhat later than the reign of james. this woman, wearied of her life by the persecutions of her neighbours, voluntarily gave herself up to justice, and made a confession, embodying the whole witch-creed of the period. she was undoubtedly a monomaniac of the most extraordinary kind. she said that she deserved to be stretched upon an iron rack, and that her crimes could never be atoned for, even if she were to be drawn asunder by wild horses. she named a long list of her associates, including nearly fifty women and a few warlocks. they dug up the graves of unchristened infants, whose limbs were serviceable in their enchantments. when they wanted to destroy the crops of an enemy, they yoked toads to his plough, and on the following night satan himself ploughed the land with his team, and blasted it for the season. the witches had power to assume almost any shape; but they generally chose either that of a cat or a hare, oftenest the latter. isabel said, that on one occasion, when she was in this disguise, she was sore pressed by a pack of hounds, and had a very narrow escape with her life. she reached her own door at last, feeling the hot breath of the pursuing dogs at her haunches. she managed, however, to hide herself behind a chest, and got time to pronounce the magic words that could alone restore her to her proper shape. they were:-- "hare! hare! god send thee care! i am in a hare's likeness now; but i shall be a woman e'en now! hare! hare! god send thee care!" if witches, when in this shape, were bitten by the dogs, they always retained the marks in their human form; but she had never heard that any witch had been bitten to death. when the devil appointed any general meeting of the witches, the custom was that they should proceed through the air mounted on broomsticks, or on corn or bean-straws, pronouncing as they went:-- "horse and partook, horse and go, horse and pellats, ho! ho! ho!" they generally left behind them a broom, or a three-legged stool, which, when placed in their beds and duly charmed, assumed the human shape till their return. this was done that the neighhours might not know when they were absent. she added, that the devil furnished his favourite witches with servant imps to attend upon them. these imps were called "the roaring lion," "thief of hell," "wait-upon-herself," "ranting roarer," "care-for-naught," &c. and were known by their liveries, which were generally yellow, sad-dun, sea-green, pea-green, or grass-green. satan never called the witches by the names they had received at baptism; neither were they allowed, in his presence, so to designate each other. such a breach of the infernal etiquette assuredly drew down his most severe displeasure. but as some designation was necessary, he re-baptized them in their own blood by the names of "able-and-stout," "over-the-dike-with-it," "raise-the-wind," "pickle-nearest-the-wind," "batter-them-down-maggy," "blow-kale," and such like. the devil himself was not very particular what name they called him so that it was not "black john." if any witch was unthinking enough to utter these words, he would rush out upon her, and beat and buffet her unmercifully, or tear her flesh with a wool-card. other names he did not care about; and once gave instructions to a noted warlock that whenever he wanted his aid, he was to strike the ground three times and exclaim, "rise up, foul thief!" upon this confession many persons were executed. so strong was the popular feeling, that no one once accused of witchcraft was acquitted; at least, acquittals did not average one in a hundred trials. witch-finding, or witch-pricking became a trade, and a set of mercenary vagabonds roamed about the country, provided with long pins to run into the flesh of supposed criminals. it was no unusual thing then, nor is it now, that in aged persons there should be some spot on the body totally devoid of feeling. it was the object of the witchpricker to discover this spot, and the unhappy wight who did not bleed when pricked upon it, was doomed to the death. if not immediately cast into prison, her life was rendered miserable by the persecution of her neighbours. it is recorded of many poor women, that the annoyances they endured in this way were so excessive, that they preferred death. sir george mackenzie, the lord advocate, at the time when witch-trials were so frequent, and himself a devout believer in the crime, relates, in his "criminal law," first published in , some remarkable instances of it. he says, "i went, when i was a justice-depute, to examine some women who had confessed judicially: and one of them, who was a silly creature, told me, under secrecy, that she had not confessed because she was guilty, but being a poor creature who wrought for her meat, and being defamed for a witch, she knew she should starve; for no person thereafter would either give her meat or lodging, and that all men would beat her and set dogs at her; and that, therefore, she desired to be out of the world; whereupon she wept most bitterly, and upon her knees called god to witness to what she said." sir george, though not wholly elevated above the prejudices of his age upon this subject, was clearsighted enough to see the danger to society of the undue encouragement given to the witch-prosecutions. he was convinced that three-fourths of them were unjust and unfounded. he says, in the work already quoted, that the persons who were in general accused of this crime, were poor ignorant men and women, who did not understand the nature of the accusation, and who mistook their own superstitious fears for witchcraft. one poor wretch, a weaver, confessed that he was a warlock, and, being asked why, he replied, because "he had seen the devil dancing, like a fly, about the candle!" a simple woman, who, because she was called a witch, believed that she was, asked the judge upon the bench, whether a person might be a witch and not know it? sir george adds, that all the supposed criminals were subjected to severe torture in prison from their gaolers, who thought they did god good service by vexing and tormenting them; "and i know," says this humane and enlightened magistrate, "that this usage was the ground of all their confession; and albeit, the poor miscreants cannot prove this usage, the actors in it being the only witnesses, yet the judge should be jealous of it, as that which did at first elicit the confession, and for fear of which they dare not retract it." another author, ["satan's invisible world discovered," by the rev. g. sinclair.] also a firm believer in witchcraft, gives a still more lamentable instance of a woman who preferred execution as a witch to live on under the imputation. this woman, who knew that three others were to be strangled and burned on an early day, sent for the minister of the parish, and confessed that she had sold her soul to satan. "whereupon being called before the judges, she was condemned to die with the rest. being carried forth to the place of execution, she remained silent during the first, second, and third prayer, and then, perceiving that there remained no more but to rise and go to the stake, she lifted up her body, and, with a loud voice, cried out, "now all you that see me this day, know that i am now to die as a witch, by my own confession, and i free all men, especially the ministers and magistrates, of the guilt of my blood. i take it wholly upon myself. my blood be upon my own head. and, as i must make answer to the god of heaven presently, i declare i am as free of witchcraft as any child. but, being delated by a malicious woman, and put in prison under the name of a witch, disowned by my husband and friends, and seeing no ground of hope of ever coming out again, i made up that confession to destroy my own life, being weary of it, and choosing rather to die than to live." as a proof of the singular obstinacy and blindness of the believers in witches, it may be stated, that the minister who relates this story only saw in the dying speech of the unhappy woman an additional proof that she was a witch. true indeed is it, that "none are so blind as those who will not see." it is time, however, to return to james vi, who is fairly entitled to share with pope innocent, sprenger, bodinus, and matthew hopkins the glory or the odium of being at the same time a chief enemy and chief encourager of witchcraft. towards the close of the sixteenth century, many learned men, both on the continent and in the isles of britain, had endeavoured to disabuse the public mind on this subject. the most celebrated were wierus in germany, pietro d'apone in italy, and reginald scot in england. their works excited the attention of the zealous james, who, mindful of the involuntary compliment which his merits had extorted from the devil, was ambitious to deserve it by still continuing "his greatest enemie." in the year he published, in edinburgh, his famous treatise on demonology. its design may be gathered from the following passage in the introduction. "the fearful abounding," says the king, "at this time, and in this country, of these detestable slaves of the devil, the witches, or enchanters, hath moved me, beloved reader, to despatch in post this following treatise of mine, not in any wise, as i protest, to serve for a show of mine own learning and ingene (ingenuity), but only (moved of conscience) to press thereby, so far as i can, to resolve the doubting hearts of many; both that such assaults of satan are most certainly practised, and that the instrument thereof merits most severely to be punished, against the damnable opinions of two, principally in our age, whereof the one, called scot, an englishman, is not ashamed, in public print, to deny that there can be such thing as witchcraft, and so maintains the old error of the sadducees, in denying of spirits. the other, called wierus, a german physician, sets out a public apology for all these crafts-folks, whereby procuring for them impunity, he plainly betrays himself to have been one of that profession." in other parts of this treatise, which the author had put into the form of a dialogue to "make it more pleasant and facile," he says, "witches ought to be put to death, according to the law of god, the civil and imperial law, and the municipal law of all christian nations: yea, to spare the life, and not strike whom god bids strike, and so severely punish in so odious a treason against god, is not only unlawful, but doubtless as great a sin in the magistrate, as was saul's sparing agag." he says also, that the crime is so abominable, that it may be proved by evidence which would not be received against any other offenders,--young children, who knew not the nature of an oath, and persons of an infamous character, being sufficient witnesses against them; but lest the innocent should be accused of a crime so difficult to be acquitted of, he recommends that in all cases the ordeal should be resorted to. he says, "two good helps may be used: the one is, the finding of their mark, and the trying the insensibleness thereof; the other is their floating on the water; for, as in a secret murther, if the dead carcass be at any time thereafter handled by the murtherer, it will gush out of blood, as if the blood were crying to heaven for revenge of the murtherer, (god having appointed that secret supernatural sign for trial of that secret unnatural crime); so that it appears that god hath appointed (for a supernatural sign of the monstrous impiety of witches) that the water shall refuse to receive them in her bosom, that have shaken off them the sacred water of baptism, and wilfully refused the benefit thereof; no, not so much as their eyes are able to shed tears (threaten and torture them as you please), while first they repent (god not permitting them to dissemble their obstinacy in so horrible a crime). albeit, the womenkind especially, be able otherwise to shed tears at every light occasion, when they will; yea, although it were dissembling, like the crocodiles." when such doctrines as these were openly promulgated by the highest authority in the realm, and who, in promulgating them, flattered, but did not force the public opinion, it is not surprising that the sad delusion should have increased and multiplied, until the race of wizards and witches replenished the earth. the reputation which he lost by being afraid of a naked sword, he more than regained by his courage in combating the devil. the kirk showed itself a most zealous coadjutor, especially during those halcyon days when it was not at issue with the king upon other matters of doctrine and prerogative. on his accession to the throne of england, in , james came amongst a people who had heard with admiration of his glorious deeds against the witches. he himself left no part of his ancient prejudices behind him, and his advent was the signal for the persecution to burst forth in england with a fury equal to that in scotland. it had languished a little during the latter years of the reign of elizabeth; but the very first parliament of king james brought forward the subject. james was flattered by their promptitude, and the act passed in . on the second reading in the house of lords, the bill passed into a committee, in which were twelve bishops. by it was enacted, "that if any person shall use, practise, or exercise any conjuration of any wicked or evil spirit, or shall consult, covenant with, or feed any such spirit, the first offence to be imprisonment for a year and standing in the pillory once a quarter; the second offence to be death." the minor punishment seems but rarely to have been inflicted. every record that has been preserved, mentions that the witches were hanged and burned, or burned without the previous strangling, "alive and quick." during the whole of james's reign, amid the civil wars of his successor, the sway of the long parliament, the usurpation of cromwell, and the reign of charles ii, there was no abatement of the persecution. if at any time it raged with less virulence, it was when cromwell and the independents were masters. dr. zachary grey, the editor of an edition of "hudibras," informs us, in a note to that work, that he himself perused a list of three thousand witches who were executed in the time of the long parliament alone. during the first eighty years of the seventeenth century, the number executed has been estimated at five hundred annually, making the frightful total of forty thousand. some of these cases deserve to be cited. the great majority resemble closely those already mentioned, but two or three of them let in a new light upon the popular superstition. every one has heard of the "lancashire witches," a phrase now used to compliment the ladies of that county for their bewitching beauty; but it is not every one who has heard the story in which it originated. a villainous boy, named robinson, was the chief actor in the tragedy. he confessed, many years afterwards, that he had been suborned by his father and other persons to give false evidence against the unhappy witches whom he brought to the stake. the time of this famous trial was about the year . this boy robinson, whose father was a wood-cutter, residing on the borders of pendle forest, in lancashire, spread abroad many rumours against one mother dickenson, whom he accused of being a witch. these rumours coming to the ears of the local magistracy, the boy was sent for, and strictly examined. he told the following extraordinary story, without hesitation or prevarication, and apparently in so open and honest a manner, that no one who heard him doubted the truth of it:--he said, that as he was roaming about in one of the glades of the forest, amusing himself by gathering blackberries, he saw two greyhounds before him, which he thought at the time belonged to some gentleman of the neighbourhood. being fond of sport, he proposed to have a course, and a hare being started, he incited the hounds to run. neither of them would stir. angry at the beasts, he seized hold of a switch, with which he was about to punish them, when one of them suddenly started up in the form of a woman, and the other, of a little boy. he at once recognised the woman to be the witch mother dickenson. she offered him some money to induce him to sell his soul to the devil; but he refused. upon this she took a bridle out of her pocket, and, shaking it over the head of the other little boy, he was instantly turned into a horse. mother dickenson then seized him in her arms, sprang upon the horse; and, placing him before her, rode with the swiftness of the wind over forests, fields, bogs, and rivers, until they came to a large barn. the witch alighted at the door; and taking him by the hand, led him inside. there he saw seven old women, pulling at seven halters which hung from the roof. as they pulled, large pieces of meat, lumps of butter, loaves of bread, basins of milk, hot puddings, black puddings, and other rural dainties, fell from the halters on to the floor. while engaged in this charm they made such ugly faces, and looked so fiendish, that he was quite frightened. after they had pulled, in this manner enough for an ample feast, they set-to, and showed, whatever might be said of the way in which their supper was procured, that their epicurism was a little more refined than that of the scottish witches, who, according to gellie duncan's confession, feasted upon dead men's flesh in the old kirk of berwick. the boy added, that as soon as supper was ready, many other witches came to partake of it, several of whom he named. in consequence of this story, many persons were arrested, and the boy robinson was led about from church to church, in order that he might point out to the officers, by whom he was accompanied, the hags he had seen in the barn. altogether about twenty persons were thrown into prison; eight of them were condemned to die, including mother dickenson, upon this evidence alone, and executed accordingly. among the wretches who concocted this notable story, not one was ever brought to justice for his perjury; and robinson, the father, gained considerable sums by threatening persons who were rich enough to buy off exposure. among the ill weeds which flourished amid the long dissensions of the civil war, matthew hopkins, the witch-finder, stands eminent in his sphere. this vulgar fellow resided, in the year , at the town of manningtree, in essex, and made himself very conspicuous in discovering the devil's marks upon several unhappy witches. the credit he gained by his skill in this instance seems to have inspired him to renewed exertions. in the course of a very short time, whenever a witch was spoken of in essex, matthew hopkins was sure to be present, aiding the judges with his knowledge of "such cattle," as he called them. as his reputation increased, he assumed the title of "witchfinder general," and travelled through the counties of norfolk, essex, huntingdon, and sussex, for the sole purpose of finding out witches. in one year he brought sixty poor creatures to the stake. the test he commonly adopted was that of swimming, so highly recommended by king james in his "demonologie." the hands and feet of the suspected persons were tied together crosswise, the thumb of the right hand to the toe of the left foot, and vice versa. they were then wrapped up in a large sheet or blanket, and laid upon their backs in a pond or river. if they sank, their friends and relatives had the poor consolation of knowing they were innocent, but there was an end of them: if they floated, which, when laid carefully on the water was generally the case, there was also an end of them; for they were deemed guilty of witchcraft, and burned accordingly. another test was to make them repeat the lord's prayer and creed. it was affirmed that no witch could do so correctly. if she missed a word, or even pronounced one incoherently, which in her trepidation, it was most probable she would, she was accounted guilty. it was thought that witches could not weep more than three tears, and those only from the left eye. thus the conscious innocence of many persons, which gave them fortitude to bear unmerited torture without flinching, was construed by their unmerciful tormentors into proofs of guilt. in some districts the test resorted to was to weigh the culprit against the church bible. if the suspected witch proved heavier than the bible, she was set at liberty. this mode was far too humane for the witch-finders by profession. hopkins always maintained that the most legitimate modes were pricking and swimming. hopkins used to travel through his counties like a man of consideration, attended by his two assistants, always putting up at the chief inn of the place, and always at the cost of the authorities. his charges were twenty shillings a town, his expenses of living while there, and his carriage thither and back. this he claimed whether he found witches or not. if he found any, he claimed twenty shillings a head in addition when they were brought to execution. for about three years he carried on this infamous trade, success making him so insolent and rapacious, that high and low became his enemies. the rev. mr. gaul, a clergyman of houghton, in huntingdonshire, wrote a pamphlet impugning his pretensions, and accusing him of being a common nuisance. hopkins replied in an angry letter to the functionaries of houghton, stating his intention to visit their town; but desiring to know whether it afforded many such sticklers for witchcraft as mr. gaul, and whether they were willing to receive and entertain him with the customary hospitality, if he so far honoured them. he added, by way of threat, that in case he did not receive a satisfactory reply, "he would waive their shire altogether, and betake himself to such places where he might do and punish, not only without control, but with thanks and recompence." the authorities of houghton were not much alarmed at his awful threat of letting them alone. they very wisely took no notice either of him or his letter. mr. gaul describes in his pamphlet one of the modes employed by hopkins, which was sure to swell his revenues very considerably. it was a proof even more atrocious than the swimming. he says, that the "witch-finder general" used to take the suspected witch and place her in the middle of a room, upon a stool or table, cross-legged, or in some other uneasy posture. if she refused to sit in this manner, she was bound with strong cords. hopkins then placed persons to watch her for four-and-twenty hours, during which time she was to be kept without meat or drink. it was supposed that one of her imps would come during that interval, and suck her blood. as the imp might come in the shape of a wasp, a moth, a fly, or other insect, a hole was made in the door or window to let it enter. the watchers were ordered to keep a sharp look-out, and endeavour to kill any insect that appeared in the room. if any fly escaped, and they could not kill it, the woman was guilty; the fly was her imp, and she was sentenced to be burned, and twenty shillings went into the pockets of master hopkins. in this manner he made one old woman confess, because four flies had appeared in the room, that she was attended by four imps, named "ilemazar," "pye-wackett," "peck-in-the-crown," and "grizel-greedigut." it is consoling to think that this impostor perished in his own snare. mr. gaul's exposure and his own rapacity weakened his influence among the magistrates; and the populace, who began to find that not even the most virtuous and innocent were secure from his persecution, looked upon him with undisguised aversion. he was beset by a mob, at a village in suffolk, and accused of being himself a wizard. an old reproach was brought against him, that he had, by means of sorcery, cheated the devil out of a certain memorandum-book, in which he, satan, had entered the names of all the witches in england. "thus," said the populace, "you find out witches, not by god's aid, but by the devil's." in vain he denied his guilt. the populace longed to put him to his own test. he was speedily stripped, and his thumbs and toes tied together. he was then placed in a blanket, and cast into a pond. some say that he floated; and that he was taken out, tried, and executed upon no other proof of his guilt. others assert that he was drowned. this much is positive, that there was an end of him. as no judicial entry of his trial and execution is to be found in any register, it appears most probable that he expired by the hands of the mob. butler has immortalized this scamp in the following lines of his "hudibras:"-- "hath not this present parliament a lieger to the devil sent, fully empower'd to treat about finding revolted witches out? and has he not within a year hang'd threescore of them in one shire? some only for not being drown'd, and some for sitting above ground whole days and nights upon their breeches, and feeling pain, were hang'd for witches; and some for putting knavish tricks upon green geese or turkey chicks; or pigs that suddenly deceased of griefs unnatural, as he guess'd; who proved himself at length a witch, and made a rod for his own breech." in scotland also witch-finding became a trade. they were known under the designation of "common prickers," and, like hopkins, received a fee for each witch they discovered. at the trial of janet peaston, in , the magistrates of dalkeith "caused john kincaid, of tranent, the common pricker, to exercise his craft upon her. he found two marks of the devil's making; for she could not feel the pin when it was put into either of the said marks, nor did the marks bleed when the pin was taken out again. when she was asked where she thought the pins were put in her, she pointed to a part of her body distant from the real place. they were pins of three inches in length." [pitcairn's "records of justiciary."] these common prickers became at last so numerous, that they were considered nuisances. the judges refused to take their evidence, and in the privy council of scotland condescended to hear the complaint of an honest woman, who had been indecently exposed by one of them, and expressed their opinion that common prickers were common cheats. but such an opinion was not formed in high places before hundreds of innocent persons had fallen victims. the parliaments had encouraged the delusion both in england and scotland; and, by arming these fellows with a sort of authority, had in a manner forced the magistrates and ministers to receive their evidence. the fate of one poor old gentleman, who fell a victim to the arts of hopkins in , deserves to be recorded. mr. louis, a venerable clergyman, upwards of seventy years of age, and who had been rector of framlingham, in suffolk, for fifty years, excited suspicion that he was a wizard. being a violent royalist, he was likely to meet with no sympathy at that time; and even his own parishioners, whom he had served so long and so faithfully, turned their backs upon him as soon as he was accused. placed under the hands of hopkins, who knew so well how to bring the refractory to confession, the old man, the light of whose intellect had become somewhat dimmed from age, confessed that he was a wizard. he said he had two imps, that continually excited him to do evil; and that one day, when he was walking on the sea-coast, one of them prompted him to express a wish that a ship, whose sails were just visible in the distance, might sink. he consented, and saw the vessel sink before his eyes. he was, upon this confession, tried and condemned. on his trial the flame of reason burned up as brightly as ever. he denied all that had been alleged against him, and cross-examined hopkins with great tact and severity. after his condemnation, he begged that the funeral service of the church might be read for him. the request was refused, and he repeated it for himself from memory, as he was led to the scaffold. a poor woman in scotland was executed upon evidence even less strong than this. john bain, a common pricker, swore that, as he passed her door, he heard her talking to the devil. she said in defence, that it was a foolish practice she had of talking to herself, and several of her neighbours corroborated her statement; but the evidence of the pricker was received. he swore that none ever talked to themselves who were not witches. the devil's mark being found upon her, the additional testimony of her guilt was deemed conclusive, and she was "convict and brynt." from the year to , these trials diminished annually in number, and acquittals were by no means so rare as they had been. to doubt in witchcraft was no longer dangerous. before country justices, condemnations on the most absurd evidence still continued, but when the judges of the land had to charge the jury, they took a more humane and philosophical view. by degrees, the educated classes (comprised, in those days, within very narrow limits), openly expressed their unbelief of modern witchcraft, although they were not bold enough to deny its existence altogether. between them and the believers in the old doctrine fierce arguments ensued, and the sceptics were designated sadducees. to convince them, the learned and reverend joseph glanvil wrote his well-known work, "sadducismus triumphatus," and "the collection of relations;" the first part intended as a philosophical inquiry into witchcraft, and the power of the devil "to assume a mortal shape;" the latter containing what he considered a multitude of well-authenticated modern instances. but though progress was made, it was slow. in , the venerable sir matthew hale condemned two women, named amy duny and rose cullender, to the stake at st. edmondsbury, upon evidence the most ridiculous. these two old women, whose ugliness gave their neighbours the first idea that they were witches, went to a shop to purchase herrings, and were refused. indignant at the prejudice against them, they were not sparing of their abuse. shortly afterward, the daughter of the herring-dealer fell sick, and a cry was raised that she was bewitched by the old women who had been refused the herrings. this girl was subject to epileptic fits. to discover the guilt of amy duny and rose cullender, the girl's eyes were blinded closely with a shawl, and the witches were commanded to touch her. they did so, and she was immediately seized with a fit. upon this evidence they were sent to prison. the girl was afterwards touched by an indifferent person, and the force of her imagination was so great, that, thinking it was again the witches, she fell down in a violent fit as before. this, however, was not received in favour of the accused. the following extract, from the published reports of the trial, will show the sort of evidence which was received:-- "samuel pacey, of leystoff, (a good, sober man,) being sworn, said that, on thursday the th of october last, his younger daughter, deborah, about nine years old, was suddenly taken so lame that she could not stand on her legs, and so continued till the th of the same month, when the child desired to be carried to a bank on the east side of the house, looking towards the sea; and, while she was sitting there, amy duny came to this examinant's house to buy some herrings, but was denied. then she came twice more, but, being as often denied, she went away discontented and grumbling. at this instant of time, the child was taken with terrible fits, complaining of a pain in her stomach, as if she was pricked with pins, shrieking out with a voice like a whelp, and thus continued till the th of the same month. this examinant further saith, that amy duny, having long had the reputation of a witch, and his child having, in the intervals of her fits, constantly cried out on her, as the cause of her disorder, saying, that the said amy did appear to her and fright her, he himself did suspect the said amy to be a witch, and charged her with being the cause of his child's illness, and set her in the stocks. two days after, his daughter elizabeth was taken with such strange fits, that they could not force open her mouth without a tap; and the younger child being in the same condition, they used to her the same remedy. both children grievously complained that amy duny and another woman, whose habit and looks they described, did appear to them, and torment them, and would cry out, 'there stands amy duny! there stands rose cullender!' the other person who afflicted them. their fits were not alike. sometimes they were lame on the right side; sometimes on the left; and sometimes so sore, that they could not bear to be touched. sometimes they were perfectly well in other respects, but they could not hear; at other times, they could not see. sometimes they lost their speech for one, two, and once for eight, days together. at times they had swooning fits, and, when they could speak, were taken with a fit of coughing, and vomited phlegm and crooked pins; and once a great twopenny nail, with above forty pins; which nail he, the examinant, saw vomited up, with many of the pins. the nail and pins were produced in the court. thus the children continued for two months, during which time the examinant often made them read in the new testament, and observed, when they came to the words lord jesus, or christ, they could not pronounce them, but fell into a fit. when they came to the word satan, or devil, they would point, and say, 'this bites, but makes me speak right well.' finding his children thus tormented without hopes of recovery, he sent them to his sister, margaret arnold, at yarmouth, being willing to try whether change of air would help them. "margaret arnold was the next witness. being sworn, she said, that about the th of november, elizabeth and deborah pacey came to her house, with her brother, who told her what had happened, and that he thought his children bewitched. she, this examinant, did not much regard it, supposing the children had played tricks, and put the pins into their mouths themselves. she, therefore, took all the pins from their clothes, sewing them with thread instead of pinning them. but, notwithstanding, they raised, at times, at least thirty pins, in her presence, and had terrible fits; in which fits they would cry out upon amy duny and rose cullender, saying, that they saw them and heard them threatening, as before; that they saw things, like mice, running about the house; and one of them catched one, and threw it into the fire, which made a noise, like a rat. another time the younger child, being out of doors, a thing like a bee would have forced itself into her mouth, at which the child ran screaming into the house, and before this examinant could come at her, fell into a fit, and vomited a twopenny nail, with a broad head. after that, this examinant asked the child how she came by this nail, when she answered, 'the bee brought the nail, and forced it into my mouth.' at other times, the eldest child told this examinant that she saw flies bring her crooked pins. she would then fall into a fit, and vomit such pins. one time the said child said she saw a mouse, and crept under the table to look for it; and afterwards, the child seemed to put something into her apron, saying, 'she had caught it.' she then ran to the fire, and threw it in, on which there did appear to this examinant something like a flash of gunpowder, although she does own she saw nothing in the child's hand. once the child, being speechless, but otherwise very sensible, ran up and down the house, crying, 'hush! hush!' as if she had seen poultry; but this examinant saw nothing. at last the child catched at something, and threw it into the fire. afterwards, when the child could speak, this examinant asked her what she saw at the time? she answered, that she saw a duck. another time the youngest child said, after a fit, that amy duny had been with her, and tempted her to drown herself, or cut her throat, or otherwise destroy herself. another time they both cried out upon amy duny and rose cullender, saying, 'why don't you come yourselves? why do you send your imps to torment us?'" the celebrated sir thomas brown, the author of "vulgar errors," was also examined as a witness upon the trial. being desired to give his opinion of the three persons in court, he said, he was clearly of opinion that they were bewitched. he said, there had lately been a discovery of witches in denmark, who used the same way of tormenting persons, by conveying crooked pins, needles, and nails into their bodies. that he thought, in such cases, the devil acted upon human bodies by natural means, namely, by exciting and stirring up the superabundant humours, he did afflict them in a more surprising manner by the same diseases their bodies were usually subject to; that these fits might be natural, only raised to a great degree by the subtlety of the devil, co-operating with the malice of these witches. the evidence being concluded, sir matthew hale addressed the jury. he said, he would waive repeating the evidence, to prevent any mistake, and told the jury, there were two things they had to inquire into. first, whether or not these children were bewitched; secondly, whether these women did bewitch them. he said, he did not in the least doubt there were witches; first, because the scriptures affirmed it; secondly, because the wisdom of all nations, particularly our own, had provided laws against witchcraft, which implied their belief of such a crime. he desired them strictly to observe the evidence, and begged of god to direct their hearts in the weighty concern they had in hand, since, to condemn the innocent and let the guilty go free, are both an abomination to the lord. the jury then retired, and, in about half an hour, returned a verdict of guilty upon all the indictments, being thirteen in number. the next morning the children came with their father to the lodgings of sir matthew hale, very well, and quite restored to their usual health. mr. pacey, being asked at what time their health began to improve, replied, that they were quite well in half an hour after the conviction of the prisoners. many attempts were made to induce the unfortunate women to confess their guilt; but in vain, and they were both hanged. eleven trials were instituted before chief-justice holt for witchcraft between the years and . the evidence was of the usual character; but holt appealed so successfully in each case to the common sense of the jury, that they were every one acquitted. a general feeling seemed to pervade the country that blood enough had been shed upon these absurd charges. now and then, the flame of persecution burnt up in a remote district; but these instances were no longer looked upon as mere matters of course. they appear, on the contrary, to have excited much attention; a sure proof, if no other were to be obtained, that they were becoming unfrequent. a case of witchcraft was tried in , before lord chief justice powell; in which, however, the jury persisted in a verdict of guilty, though the evidence was of the usual absurd and contradictory character, and the enlightened judge did all in his power to bring them to a right conclusion. the accused person was one jane wenham, better known as the witch of walkerne; and the persons who were alleged to have suffered from her witchcraft were two young women, named thorne and street. a witness, named mr. arthur chauncy, deposed, that he had seen ann thorne in several of her fits, and that she always recovered upon prayers being said, or if jane wenham came to her. he related, that he had pricked the prisoner several times in the arms, but could never fetch any blood from her; that he had seen her vomit pins, when there were none in her clothes or within her reach; and that he had preserved several of them, which he was ready to produce. the judge, however, told him that was needless, as he supposed they were crooked pins. mr. francis bragge, another witness, deposed, that strange "cakes" of bewitched feathers having been taken from ann thorne's pillow, he was anxious to see them. he went into a room where some of these feathers were, and took two of the cakes, and compared them together. they were both of a circular figure, something larger than a crown piece; and he observed that the small feathers were placed in a nice and curious order, at equal distances from each other, making so many radii of the circle, in the centre of which the quill ends of the feathers met. he counted the number of these feathers, and found them to be exactly thirty-two in each cake. he afterwards endeavoured to pull off two or three of them, and observed that they were all fastened together by a sort of viscous matter, which would stretch seven or eight times in a thread before it broke. having taken off several of these feathers, he removed the viscous matter with his fingers, and found under it, in the centre, some short hairs, black and grey, matted together, which he verily believed to be cat's hair. he also said, that jane wenham confessed to him that she had bewitched the pillow, and had practised witchcraft for sixteen years. the judge interrupted the witness at this stage, and said, he should very much like to see an enchanted feather, and seemed to wonder when he was told that none of these strange cakes had been preserved. his lordship asked the witness why he did not keep one or two of them, and was informed that they had all been burnt, in order to relieve the bewitched person of the pains she suffered, which could not be so well effected by any other means. a man, named thomas ireland, deposed, that hearing several times a great noise of cats crying and screaming about his house, he went out and frightened them away, and they all ran towards the cottage of jane wenham. one of them he swore positively had a face very like jane wenham's. another man, named burville, gave similar evidence, and swore that he had often seen a cat with jane wenham's face. upon one occasion he was in ann thorne's chamber, when several cats came in, and among them the cat above stated. this witness would have favoured the court with a much longer statement, but was stopped by the judge, who said he had heard quite enough. the prisoner, in her defence, said nothing, but that "she was a clear woman." the learned judge then summed up, leaving it to the jury to determine whether such evidence as they had heard was sufficient to take away the prisoner's life upon the indictment. after a long deliberation they brought in their verdict, that she was guilty upon the evidence. the judge then asked them whether they found her guilty upon the indictment of conversing with the devil in the shape of a cat? the sapient foreman very gravely answered, "we find her guilty of that." the learned judge then very reluctantly proceeded to pass sentence of death; but, by his persevering exertions, a pardon was at last obtained, and the wretched old woman was set at liberty. in the year , a woman and her daughter,--the latter only nine years of age,--were hanged at huntingdon for selling their souls to the devil, and raising a storm by pulling off their stockings and making a lather of soap. this appears to have been the last judicial execution in england. from that time to the year , the populace raised at intervals the old cry, and more than once endangered the lives of poor women by dragging them through ponds on suspicion; but the philosophy of those who, from their position, sooner or later give the tone to the opinions and morals of the poor, was silently working a cure for the evil. the fear of witches ceased to be epidemic, and became individual, lingering only in minds lettered by inveterate prejudice or brutalizing superstition. in the year , the penal statute of james i. was finally blotted from the statutebook, and suffered no longer to disgrace the advancing intelligence of the country. pretenders to witchcraft, fortune-tellers, conjurors, and all their train, were liable only to the common punishment of rogues and impostors--imprisonment and the pillory. in scotland, the delusion also assumed the same phases, and was gradually extinguished in the light of civilization. as in england the progress of improvement was slow. up to the year , little or no diminution of the mania was perceptible. in , the general assembly recommended that the privy council should institute a standing commission, composed of any "understanding gentlemen or magistrates," to try the witches, who were stated to have increased enormously of late years. in , an act was passed, confirmatory of the original statute of queen mary, explaining some points of the latter which were doubtful, and enacting severe penalties, not only against witches themselves, but against all who covenanted with them, or sought by their means to pry into the secrets of futurity, or cause any evil to the life, lands, or limbs of their neighbours. for the next ten years, the popular madness upon this subject was perhaps more furious than ever; upwards of four thousand persons suffered for the crime during that interval. this was the consequence of the act of parliament and the unparalleled severity of the magistrates; the latter frequently complained that for two witches they burned one day, there were ten to burn the next: they never thought that they themselves were the cause of the increase. in a single circuit, held at glasgow, ayr, and stirling, in , seventeen unhappy creatures were burned by judicial sentence for trafficking with satan. in one day, (november , ,) the privy council issued no less than fourteen commissions for trials in the provinces. next year, the violence of the persecution seems to have abated. from to , although "the understanding gentlemen and magistrates" already mentioned, continued to try and condemn, the high court of justiciary had but one offender of this class to deal with, and she was acquitted. james welsh, a common pricker, was ordered to be publicly whipped through the streets of edinburgh for falsely accusing a woman of witchcraft; a fact which alone proves that the superior court sifted the evidence in these cases with much more care and severity than it had done a few years previously. the enlightened sir george mackenzie, styled by dryden "the noble wit of scotland," laboured hard to introduce this rule into court--that the confessions of the witches should be held of little worth, and that the evidence of the prickers and other interested persons should be received with distrust and jealousy. this was reversing the old practice, and saved many innocent lives. though a firm believer both in ancient and modern witchcraft, he could not shut his eyes to the atrocities daily committed under the name of justice. in his work on the criminal law of scotland, published in , he says, "from the horridness of this crime, i do conclude that, of all others, it requires the clearest relevancy and most convincing probature; and i condemn, next to the wretches themselves, those cruel and too forward judges who burn persons by thousands as guilty of this crime." in the same year, sir john clerk plumply refused to serve as a commissioner on trials for witchcraft, alleging, by way of excuse, "that he was not himself good conjuror enough to be duly qualified." the views entertained by sir george mackenzie were so favourably received by the lords of session that he was deputed, in , to report to them on the cases of a number of poor women who were then in prison awaiting their trial. sir george stated that there was no evidence against them whatever but their own confessions, which were absurd and contradictory, and drawn from them by severe torture. they were immediately discharged. for the next sixteen years, the lords of session were unoccupied with trials for witchcraft; not one is entered upon the record: but in , a case occurred, which equalled in absurdity any of those that signalized the dark reign of king james. a girl, named christiana shaw, eleven years of age, the daughter of john shaw of bargarran, was subject to fits, and being of a spiteful temper, she accused her maid-servant, with whom she had frequent quarrels, of bewitching her. her story, unfortunately, was believed. encouraged to tell all the persecutions of the devil which the maid had sent to torment her, she in the end concocted a romance that involved twenty-one persons. there was no other evidence against them but the fancies of this lying child, and the confessions which pain had extorted from them; but upon this no less than five women were condemned, before lord blantyre and the rest of the commissioners, appointed specially by the privy council to try this case. they were burned on the green at paisley. the warlock of the party, one john reed, who was also condemned, hanged himself in prison. it was the general belief in paisley that the devil had strangled him, lest he should have revealed in his last moments too many of the unholy secrets of witchcraft. this trial excited considerable disgust in scotland. the rev. mr. bell, a contemporary writer, observed that, in this business, "persons of more goodness and esteem than most of their calumniators were defamed for witches." he adds, that the persons chiefly to blame were "certain ministers of too much forwardness and absurd credulity, and some topping professors in and about glasgow." [preface to "law's memorials," edited by sharpe.] after this trial, there again occurs a lapse of seven years, when the subject was painfully forced upon public attention by the brutal cruelty of the mob at pittenween. two women were accused of having bewitched a strolling beggar, who was subject to fits, or who pretended to be so, for the purpose of exciting commiseration. they were cast into prison, and tortured until they confessed. one of them, named janet cornfoot, contrived to escape, but was brought back to pittenween next day by a party of soldiers. on her approach to the town, she was, unfortunately, met by a furious mob, composed principally of fishermen and their wives, who seized upon her with the intention of swimming her. they forced her away to the sea shore, and tying a rope around her body, secured the end of it to the mast of a fishing-boat lying alongside. in this manner they ducked her several times. when she was half dead, a sailor in the boat cut away the rope, and the mob dragged her through the sea to the beach. here, as she lay quite insensible, a brawny ruffian took down the door of his hut, close by, and placed it on her back. the mob gathered large stones from the beach, and piled them upon her till the wretched woman was pressed to death. no magistrate made the slightest attempt to interfere, and the soldiers looked on, delighted spectators. a great outcry was raised against this culpable remissness, but no judicial inquiry was set on foot. this happened in . the next case we hear of is that of elspeth rule, found guilty of witchcraft before lord anstruther at the dumfries circuit, in . she was sentenced to be marked in the cheek with a redhot iron, and banished the realm of scotland for life. again there is a long interval. in , the remote county of caithness, where the delusion remained in all its pristine vigour for years after it had ceased elsewhere, was startled from its propriety by the cry of witchcraft. a silly fellow, named william montgomery, a carpenter, had a mortal antipathy to cats, and, somehow or other, these animals generally chose his back-yard as the scene of their catterwaulings. he puzzled his brains for a long time to know why he, above all his neighbours, should be so pestered; at last he came to the sage conclusion that his tormentors were no cats, but witches. in this opinion he was supported by his maid-servant, who swore a round oath that she had often heard the aforesaid cats talking together in human voices. the next time the unlucky tabbies assembled in his back-yard, the valiant carpenter was on the alert. arming himself with an axe, a dirk, and a broadsword, he rushed out among them: one of them he wounded in the back, a second in the hip, and the leg of a third he maimed with his axe; but he could not capture any of them. a few days afterwards, two old women of the parish died, and it was said that, when their bodies were laid out, there appeared upon the back of one the mark as of a recent wound, and a similar scar upon the hip of the other. the carpenter and his maid were convinced that they were the very cats, and the whole county repeated the same story. every one was upon the look-out for proofs corroborative: a very remarkable one was soon discovered. nanny gilbert, a wretched old creature of upwards of seventy years of age, was found in bed with her leg broken; as she was ugly enough for a witch, it was asserted that she, also, was one of the cats that had fared so ill at the hands of the carpenter. the latter, when informed of the popular suspicion, asserted that he distinctly remembered to have struck one of the cats a blow with the back of his broadsword, which ought to have broken her leg. nanny was immediately dragged from her bed, and thrown into prison. before she was put to the torture, she explained, in a very natural and intelligible manner, how she had broken her limb; but this account did not give satisfaction: the professional persuasions of the torturer made her tell a different tale, and she confessed that she was indeed a witch, and had been wounded by montgomery on the night stated--that the two old women recently deceased were witches also, besides about a score of others whom she named. the poor creature suffered so much by the removal from her own home, and the tortures inflicted upon her, that she died the next day in prison. happily for the persons she had named in her confession, dundas of arniston, at that time the king's advocate-general, wrote to the sheriff-depute, one captain ross of littledean, cautioning him not to proceed to trial, the "thing being of too great difficulty, and beyond the jurisdiction of an inferior court." dundas himself examined the precognition with great care, and was so convinced of the utter folly of the whole case that he quashed all further proceedings. we find this same sheriff-depute of caithness very active four years afterwards in another trial for witchcraft. in spite of the warning he had received, that all such cases were to be tried in future by the superior courts, he condemned to death an old woman at dornoch, upon the charge of bewitching the cows and pigs of her neighbours. this poor creature was insane, and actually laughed and clapped her hands at sight of "the bonnie fire" that was to consume her. she had a daughter, who was lame both of her hands and feet, and one of the charges brought against her was, that she had used this daughter as a pony in her excursions to join the devil's sabbath, and that the devil himself had shod her, and produced lameness. this was the last execution that took place in scotland for witchcraft. the penal statutes were repealed in , and, as in england, whipping, the pillory, or imprisonment, were declared the future punishments of all pretenders to magic or witchcraft. still, for many years after this, the superstition lingered both in england and scotland, and in some districts is far from being extinct even at this day. but before we proceed to trace it any further than to its legal extinction, we have yet to see the frightful havoc it made in continental europe from the commencement of the seventeenth to the middle of the eighteenth century. france, germany, and switzerland were the countries which suffered most from the epidemic. the number of victims in these countries during the sixteenth century has already been mentioned; but, at the early part of the seventeenth, the numbers are so great, especially in germany, that were they not to be found in the official records of the tribunals, it would be almost impossible to believe that mankind could ever have been so maddened and deluded. to use the words of the learned and indefatigable horst, [zauber bibliothek. theil .] "the world seemed to be like a large madhouse for witches and devils to play their antics in." satan was believed to be at everybody's call, to raise the whirlwind, draw down the lightning, blight the productions of the earth, or destroy the health and paralyse the limbs of man. this belief, so insulting to the majesty and beneficence of the creator, was shared by the most pious ministers of religion. those who in their morning and evening prayers acknowledged the one true god, and praised him for the blessings of the seed time and the harvest, were convinced that frail humanity could enter into a compact with the spirits of hell to subvert his laws and thwart all his merciful intentions. successive popes, from innocent viii. downwards, promulgated this degrading doctrine, which spread so rapidly that society seemed to be divided into two great factions, the bewitching and the bewitched. the commissioners named by innocent viii. to prosecute the witch-trials in germany, were jacob sprenger, so notorious for his work on demonology, entitled the "malleus maleficarum," or "hammer to knock down witches," henry institor a learned jurisconsult, and the bishop of strasburgh. barnberg, treves, cologne, paderborn, and wurzburg, were the chief seats of the commissioners, who, during their lives alone, condemned to the stake, on a very moderate calculation, upwards of three thousand victims. the number of witches so increased, that new commissioners were continually appointed in germany, france, and switzerland. in spain and portugal the inquisition alone took cognizance of the crime. it is impossible to search the records of those dark, but now happily nonexisting tribunals; but the mind recoils with affright even to form a guess of the multitudes who perished. the mode of trial in the other countries is more easily ascertained. sprenger, in germany, and bodinus and delrio, in france, have left but too ample a record of the atrocities committed in the much-abused names of justice and religion. bodinus, of great repute and authority in the seventeenth century, says, "the trial of this offence must not be conducted like other crimes. whoever adheres to the ordinary course of justice perverts the spirit of the law, both divine and human. he who is accused of sorcery should never be acquitted unless the malice of the prosecutor be clearer than the sun; for it is so difficult to bring full proof of this secret crime, that out of a million of witches not one would be convicted if the usual course were followed!" henri boguet, a witch-finder, who styled himself "the grand judge of witches for the territory of st. claude," drew up a code for the guidance of all persons engaged in the witch-trials, consisting of seventy articles, quite as cruel as the code of bodinus. in this document he affirms, that a mere suspicion of witchcraft justifies the immediate arrest and torture of the suspected person. if the prisoner muttered, looked on the ground, and did not shed any tears, all these were proofs positive of guilt! in all cases of witchcraft, the evidence of the child ought to be taken against its parent; and persons of notoriously bad character, although not to be believed upon their oaths on the ordinary occasions of dispute that might arise between man and man, were to be believed, if they swore that any person had bewitched them! who, when he hears that this diabolical doctrine was the universally received opinion of the ecclesiastical and civil authorities, can wonder that thousands upon thousands of unhappy persons should be brought to the stake? that cologne should for many years burn its three hundred witches annually? the district of barnberg its four hundred? nuremberg, geneva, paris, toulouse, lyons, and other cities, their two hundred? a few of these trials may be cited, taking them in the order of priority, as they occurred in different parts of the continent. in an old woman residing in a village near constance, angry at not being invited to share the sports of the country people on a day of public rejoicing, was heard to mutter something to herself, and was afterwards seen to proceed through the fields towards a hill, where she was lost sight of. a violent thunderstorm arose about two hours afterwards, which wet the dancers to the skin, and did considerable damage to the plantations. this woman, suspected before of witchcraft, was seized and imprisoned, and accused of having raised the storm, by filling a hole with wine, and stirring it about with a stick. she was tortured till she confessed, and was burned alive the next evening. about the same time two sorcerers in toulouse were accused of having dragged a crucifix about the streets at midnight, stopping at times to spit upon and kick it, and uttering at intervals an exorcism to raise the devil. the next day a hail-storm did considerable damage to the crops, and a girl, the daughter of a shoemaker in the town, remembered to have heard in the night the execrations of the wizards. her story led to their arrest. the usual means to produce confession were resorted to. the wizards owned that they could raise tempests whenever they pleased, and named several persons who possessed similar powers. they were hanged, and then burned in the market-place, and seven of the persons they had mentioned shared the same fate. hoppo and stadlin, two noted wizards of germany, were executed in . they implicated twenty or thirty witches, who went about causing women to miscarry, bringing down the lightning of heaven, and making maidens bring forth toads. to this latter fact several girls were found to swear most positively! stadlin confessed that he had killed seven infants in the womb of one woman. bodinus highly praises the exertions of a witchfinder, named nider, in france, who prosecuted so many that he could not calculate them. some of these witches could, by a single word, cause people to fall down dead; others made women go with child three years instead of nine months; while others, by certain invocations and ceremonies, could turn the faces of their enemies upside down, or twist them round to their backs. although no witness was ever procured who saw persons in this horrible state, the witches confessed that they had the power, and exercised it. nothing more was wanting to insure the stake. at amsterdam a crazy girl confessed that she could cause sterility in cattle, and bewitch pigs and poultry by merely repeating the magic words turius und shurius inturius! she was hanged and burned. another woman in the same city, named kornelis van purmerund, was arrested in consequence of some disclosures the former had made. a witness came forward and swore that she one day looked through the window of her hut, and saw kornelis sitting before a fire muttering something to the devil. she was sure it was to the devil, because she heard him answer her. shortly afterwards twelve black cats ascended out of the floor, and danced on their hind legs around the witch for the space of about half an hour. they then vanished with a horrid noise, and leaving a disagreeable smell behind them. she also was hanged and burned. at bamberg, in bavaria, the executions from the year to were at the rate of about a hundred annually. one woman, suspected of witchcraft, was seized because, having immoderately praised the beauty of a child, it had shortly afterwards fallen ill and died. she confessed upon the rack that the devil had given her the power to work evil upon those she hated, by speaking words in their praise. if she said with unwonted fervour, "what a strong man!" "what a lovely woman!" "what a sweet child!" the devil understood her, and afflicted them with diseases immediately. it is quite unnecessary to state the end of this poor creature. many women were executed for causing strange substances to lodge in the bodies of those who offended them. bits of wood, nails, hair, eggshells, bits of glass, shreds of linen and woollen cloth, pebbles, and even hot cinders and knives, were the articles generally chosen. these were believed to remain in the body till the witches confessed or were executed, when they were voided from the bowels, or by the mouth, nostrils, or ears. modern physicians have often had cases of a similar description under their care, where girls have swallowed needles, which have been voided on the arms, legs, and other parts of the body. but the science of that day could not account for these phenomena otherwise than by the power of the devil; and every needle swallowed by a servant maid cost an old woman her life. nay, if no more than one suffered in consequence, the district might think itself fortunate. the commissioners seldom stopped short at one victim. the revelations of the rack in most cases implicated half a score. of all the records of the witch-trials preserved for the wonder of succeeding ages, that of wurzburg, from to , is the most frightful. hauber, who has preserved this list in his "acta et scripta magica," says, in a note at the end, that it is far from complete, and that there were a great many other burnings too numerous to specify. this record, which relates to the city only, and not to the province of wurzburg, contains the names of one hundred and fifty-seven persons, who were burned in two years in twenty-nine burnings, averaging from five to six at a time. the list comprises three play-actors, four innkeepers, three common councilmen of wurzburg, fourteen vicars of the cathedral, the burgomaster's lady, an apothecary's wife and daughter, two choristers of the cathedral, gobel babelin the prettiest girl in the town, and the wife, the two little sons, and the daughter of the councillor stolzenberg. rich and poor, young and old, suffered alike. at the seventh of these recorded burnings, the victims are described as a wandering boy, twelve years of age, and four strange men and women, found sleeping in the market-place. thirty-two of the whole number appear to have been vagrants, of both sexes, who, failing to give a satisfactory account of themselves, were accused and found guilty of witchcraft. the number of children on the list is horrible to think upon. the thirteenth and fourteenth burnings comprised four persons, who are stated to have been a little maiden nine years of age, a maiden still less, her sister, their mother, and their aunt, a pretty young woman of twenty-four. at the eighteenth burning the victims were two boys of twelve, and a girl of fifteen; at the nineteenth, the young heir of the noble house of rotenhahn, aged nine, and two other boys, one aged ten, and the other twelve. among other entries appear the names of baunach, the fattest, and steinacher, the richest burgher in wurzburg. what tended to keep up the delusion in this unhappy city, and indeed all over europe, was the number of hypochondriac and diseased persons who came voluntarily forward, and made confession of witchcraft. several of the victims in the foregoing list, had only themselves to blame for their fate. many again, including the apothecary's wife and daughter already mentioned, pretended to sorcery, and sold poisons, or attempted by means of charms and incantations to raise the devil. but throughout all this fearful period the delusion of the criminals was as great as that of the judges. depraved persons who, in ordinary times, would have been thieves or murderers, added the desire of sorcery to their depravity, sometimes with the hope of acquiring power over their fellows, and sometimes with the hope of securing impunity in this world by the protection of satan. one of the persons executed at the first burning, a prostitute, was heard repeating the exorcism, which was supposed to have the power of raising the arch enemy in the form of a goat. this precious specimen of human folly has been preserved by horst, in his "zauberbibliothek." it ran as follows, and was to be repeated slowly, with many ceremonies and waivings of the hand:-- "lalle, bachera, magotte, baphia, dajam, vagoth heneche ammi nagaz, adomator raphael immanuel christus, tetragrammaton agra jod loi. konig! konig!" the two last words were uttered quickly, and with a sort of scream, and were supposed to be highly agreeable to satan, who loved to be called a king. if he did not appear immediately, it was necessary to repeat a further exorcism. the one in greatest repute was as follows, and was to be read backwards, with the exception of the last two words "anion, lalle, sabolos, sado, pater, aziel adonai sado vagoth agra, jod, baphra! komm! komm!" when the witch wanted to get rid of the devil, who was sometimes in the habit of prolonging his visits to an unconscionable length, she had only to repeat the following, also backwards, when he generally disappeared, leaving behind him a suffocating smell:-- "zellianelle heotti bonus vagotha plisos sother osech unicus beelzebub dax! komm! komm!" this nonsensical jargon soon became known to all the idle and foolish boys of germany. many an unhappy urchin, who in a youthful frolic had repeated it, paid for his folly the penalty of his life. three, whose ages varied from ten to fifteen, were burned alive at wurzburg for no other offence. of course every other boy in the city became still more convinced of the power of the charm. one boy confessed that he would willingly have sold himself to the devil, if he could have raised him, for a good dinner and cakes every day of his life, and a pony to ride upon. this luxurious youngster, instead of being horsewhipped for his folly, was hanged and burned. the small district of lindheim was, if possible, even more notorious than wurzburg for the number of its witch-burnings. in the year a famous witch, named pomp anna, who could cause her foes to fall sick by merely looking at them, was discovered and burned, along with three of her companions. every year in this parish, consisting at most of a thousand persons, the average number of executions was five. between the years and , the number consumed was thirty. if the executions all over germany had been in this frightful proportion, hardly a family could have escaped losing one of its members. in a ballad entitled the "druten zeitung," or the "witches gazette," was very popular in germany. it detailed, according to the titlepage of a copy printed at smalcald in , "an account of the remarkable events which took place in franconia, bamberg, and wurzburg, with those wretches who from avarice or ambition have sold themselves to the devil, and how they had their reward at last: set to music, and to be sung to the tune of dorothea." the sufferings of the witches at the stake are explained in it with great minuteness, the poet waxing extremely witty when he describes the horrible contortions of pain upon their countenances, and the shrieks that rent the air when any one of more than common guilt was burned alive. a trick resorted to in order to force one witch to confess, is told in this doggrel as an excellent joke. as she obstinately refused to own that she was in league with the powers of evil, the commissioners suggested that the hangman should dress himself in a bear's skin, with the horns, tail, and all the et ceteras, and in this form penetrate into her dungeon. the woman, in the darkness of her cell, could not detect the imposture, aided as it was by her own superstitious fears. she thought she was actually in the presence of the prince of hell; and when she was told to keep up her courage, and that she should be relieved from the power of her enemies, she fell on her knees before the supposed devil, and swore to dedicate herself hereafter body and soul to his service. germany is, perhaps, the only country in europe where the delusion was so great as to have made such detestable verses as these the favourites of the people:-- "man shickt ein henkersknecht zu ihr in gefangniss n'unter, den man hat kleidet recht, mir einer barnhaute, als wenns der teufel war; als ihm die drut anschaute meints ihr buhl kam daher. "sie sprach zu ihm behende, wie lasst du mich so lang in der obrigkeit hande? hilf mir aus ihren zwang, wie du mir hast verheissen, ich bin ja eben dein, thu mich aus der angst entreissen o liebster buhle mein? [they sent a hangman's assistant down to her in her prison; they clothed him properly in a bear's skin, as if he were the devil. him, when the witch saw, she thought he was her familiar. she said to him quickly, "why hast thou left me so long in the magistrate's hands? help me out of their power, as thou hast promised, and i will be thine alone. help me from this anguish, o thou dearest devil (or lover), mine?"] this rare poet adds, that in making such an appeal to the hangman, the witch never imagined the roast that was to be made of her, and puts in, by way of parenthesis, "was not that fine fun!" "was das war fur ein spiel!" as feathers thrown into the air show how the wind blows, so this trumpery ballad serves to show the current of popular feeling at the time of its composition. all readers of history are familiar with the celebrated trial of the marechale d'ancre, who was executed in paris in the year . although witchcraft was one of the accusations brought against her, the real crime for which she suffered was her ascendency over the mind of mary of medicis, and the consequent influence she exercised indirectly over the unworthy king, louis xiii. her coachman gave evidence that she had sacrificed a cock at midnight, in one of the churches, and others swore they had seen her go secretly into the house of a noted witch, named isabella. when asked by what means she had acquired so extraordinary an influence over the mind of the queen mother, she replied boldly, that she exercised no other power over her, than that which a strong mind can always exercise over the weak. she died with great firmness. in two years afterwards scenes far more horrible than any that had yet taken place in france were enacted at labourt, at the foot of the pyrenees. the parliament of bourdeaux, scandalised at the number of witches who were said to infest labourt and its neighbourhood, deputed one of its own members, the noted pierre de l'ancre, and its president, espaignel, to inquire into the matter, with full powers to punish the offenders. they arrived at labourt in may . de l'ancre wrote a book, setting forth all his great deeds, in this battle against the powers of evil. it is full of obscenity and absurdity; but the facts may be relied on as far as they relate to the number of trials and executions, and the strange confessions which torture forced from the unhappy criminals. de l'ancre states as a reason why so many witches were to be found at labourt, that the country was mountainous and sterile! he discovered many of them from their partiality to smoking tobacco. it may be inferred from this, that he was of the opinion of king james, that tobacco was the "devil's weed." when the commission first sat, the number of persons brought to trial was about forty a day. the acquittals did not average so many as five per cent. all the witches confessed that they had been present at the great domdaniel, or sabbath. at these saturnalia the devil sat upon a large gilded throne, sometimes in the form of a goat; sometimes as a gentleman, dressed all in black, with boots, spurs, and sword; and very often as a shapeless mass, resembling the trunk of a blasted tree, seen indistinctly amid the darkness. they generally proceeded to the domdaniel, riding on spits, pitchforks, or broomsticks, and, on their arrival, indulged with the fiends in every species of debauchery. upon one occasion they had had the audacity to celebrate this festival in the very heart of the city of bourdeaux. the throne of the arch fiend was placed in the middle of the place de gallienne, and the whole space was covered with the multitude of witches and wizards, who flocked to it from far and near; some arriving even from distant scotland. after two hundred poor wretches had been hanged and burned, there seemed no diminution in the number of criminals to be tried. many of the latter were asked upon the rack what satan had said, when he found that the commissioners were proceeding with such severity? the general reply was, that he did not seem to care much about it. some of them asserted, that they had boldly reproached him for suffering the execution of their friends, saying, "out upon thee, false fiend! thy promise was, that they should not die! look! how thou hast kept thy word! they have been burned, and are a heap of ashes!" upon these occasions he was never offended. he would give orders that the sports of the domdaniel should cease, and producing illusory fires that did not burn, he encouraged them to walk through, assuring them that the fires lighted by the executioner gave no more pain than those. they would then ask him, where their friends were, since they had not suffered; to which the "father of lies" invariably replied, that they were happy in a far country, and could see and hear all that was then passing; and that, if they called by name those they wished to converse with, they might hear their voices in reply. satan then imitated the voices of the defunct witches so successfully, that they were all deceived. having answered all objections, the orgies recommenced, and lasted till the cock crew. de l'ancre was also very zealous in the trial of unhappy monomaniacs for the crime of lycanthropy. several who were arrested confessed, without being tortured, that they were weir-wolves, and that, at night, they rushed out among the flocks and herds, killing and devouring. one young man at besancon, with the full consciousness of the awful fate that awaited him, voluntarily gave himself up to the commissioner espaignel, and confessed that he was the servant of a strong fiend, who was known by the name of "lord of the forests." by his power, he was transformed into the likeness of a wolf. the "lord of the forests" assumed the same shape, but was much larger, fiercer, and stronger. they prowled about the pastures together at midnight, strangling the watch-dogs that defended the folds, and killing more sheep than they could devour. he felt, he said, a fierce pleasure in these excursions, and howled in excess of joy as he tore with his fangs the warm flesh of the sheep asunder. this youth was not alone in this horrid confession; many others voluntarily owned that they were weir-wolves, and many more were forced by torture to make the same avowal. such criminals were thought to be too atrocious to be hanged first, and then burned: they were generally sentenced to be burned alive, and their ashes to be scattered to the winds. grave and learned doctors of divinity openly sustained the possibility of these transformations, relying mainly upon the history of nebuchadnezzar. they could not imagine why, if he had been an ox, modern men could not become wolves, by divine permission and the power of the devil. they also contended that, if men should confess, it was evidence enough, if there had been no other. delrio mentions that one gentleman accused of lycanthropy was put to the torture no less than twenty times, but still he would not confess. an intoxicating draught was then given him, and under its influence he confessed that he was a weir-wolf. delrio cites this to show the extreme equity of the commissioners. they never burned anybody till he confessed; and if one course of torture would not suffice, their patience was not exhausted, and they tried him again and again, even to the twentieth time! well may we exclaim, when such atrocities have been committed in the name of religion, "quel lion, quel tigre egale en cruaute, une injuste fureur qu'arme la piete?" the trial of the unhappy urbain grandier, the curate of loudun, for bewitching a number of girls in the convent of the ursulines in that town, was, like that of the marechale d'ancre, an accusation resorted to by his enemies to ruin one against whom no other charge could be brought so readily. this noted affair, which kept france in commotion for months, and the true character of which was known even at that time, merits no more than a passing notice in this place. it did not spring from the epidemic dread of sorcery then so prevalent, but was carried on by wretched intriguers, who had sworn to have the life of their foe. such a charge could not be refuted in : the accused could not, as bodinus expresses it, "make the malice of the prosecutors more clear than the sun;" and his own denial, however intelligible, honest, and straightforward, was held as nothing in refutation of the testimony of the crazy women who imagined themselves bewitched. the more absurd and contradictory their assertions, the stronger the argument employed by his enemies that the devil was in them. he was burned alive, under circumstances of great cruelty. [a very graphic account of the execution of this unfortunate gentleman is to be found in the excellent romance of m. alfred de vigny, entitled "cinq mars;" but if the reader wishes for a full and accurate detail of all the circumstances of one of the most extraordinary trials upon record, he is referred to a work published anonymously, at amsterdam, in , entitled "histoire des diables de loudun, ou de la possession des religieuses ursulines, et de la condemnation et du supplice d'urbain grandier."] a singular instance of the epidemic fear of witchcraft occurred at lille, in . a pious, but not very sane lady, named antoinette bourignon, founded a school, or hospice, in that city. one day, on entering the school-room, she imagined that she saw a great number of little black angels flying about the heads of the children. in great alarm, she told her pupils of what she had seen, warning them to beware of the devil, whose imps were hovering about them. the foolish woman continued daily to repeat the same story, and satan and his power became the only subject of conversation, not only between the girls themselves, but between them and their instructors. one of them at this time ran away from the school. on being brought back and interrogated, she said she had not run away, but had been carried away by the devil--she was a witch, and had been one since the age of seven. some other little girls in the school went into fits at this announcement, and, on their recovery, confessed that they also were witches. at last, the whole of them, to the number of fifty, worked upon each other's imaginations to such a degree that they also confessed that they were witches--that they attended the domdaniel, or meeting of the fiends--that they could ride through the air on broom-sticks, feast on infants' flesh, or creep through a key-hole. the citizens of lille were astounded at these disclosures. the clergy hastened to investigate the matter; many of them, to their credit, openly expressed their opinion that the whole affair was an imposture: not so the majority--they strenuously insisted that the confessions of the children were valid, and that it was necessary to make an example by burning them all for witches. the poor parents, alarmed for their offspring, implored the examining capuchins with tears in their eyes to save their young lives, insisting that they were bewitched, and not bewitching. this opinion also gained ground in the town. antoinette bourignon, who had put these absurd notions into the heads of the children, was accused of witchcraft, and examined before the council. the circumstances of the case seemed so unfavourable towards her that she would not stay for a second examination. disguising herself as she best could, she hastened out of lille and escaped pursuit. if she had remained four hours longer, she would have been burned by judicial sentence, as a witch and a heretic. it is to be hoped that, wherever she went, she learned the danger of tampering with youthful minds, and was never again entrusted with the management of children. the duke of brunswick and the elector of menz were struck with the great cruelty exercised in the torture of suspected persons, and convinced at the same time that no righteous judge would consider a confession extorted by pain, and contradictory in itself, as sufficient evidence to justify the execution of any accused person. it is related of the duke of brunswick that he invited two learned jesuits to his house, who were known to entertain strong opinions upon the subject of witchcraft, with a view of showing them the cruelty and absurdity of such practises. a woman lay in the dungeon of the city accused of witchcraft, and the duke, having given previous instructions to the officiating torturers, went with the two jesuits to hear her confession. by a series of artful leading questions, the poor creature, in the extremity of her anguish, was induced to confess that she had often attended the sabbath of the fiends upon the brocken--that she had seen two jesuits there, who had made themselves notorious, even among witches, for their abominations--that she had seen them assume the form of goats, wolves, and other animals; and that many noted witches had borne them five, six, and seven children at a birth, who had heads like toads and legs like spiders. being asked if the jesuits were far from her, she replied that they were in the room beside her. the duke of brunswick led his astounded friends away, and explained the stratagem. this was convincing proof to both of them that thousands of persons had suffered unjustly; they knew their own innocence, and shuddered to think what their fate might have been, if an enemy, instead of a friend, had put such a confession into the mouth of a criminal. one of these jesuits was frederick spee, the author of the "cautio criminalis," published in . this work, exposing the horrors of the witch trials, had a most salutary effect in germany: schonbrunn, archbishop and elector of menz, abolished the torture entirely within his dominions, and his example was imitated by the duke of brunswick and other potentates. the number of supposed witches immediately diminished, and the violence of the mania began to subside. the elector of brandenburg issued a rescript, in , with respect to the case of anna of ellerbrock, a supposed witch, forbidding the use of torture, and stigmatizing the swimming of witches as an unjust, cruel, and deceitful test. this was the beginning of the dawn after the long-protracted darkness. the tribunals no longer condemned witches to execution by hundreds in a year. wurzburg, the grand theatre of the burnings, burned but one, where, forty years previously, it had burned three score. from to , the electoral chambers in all parts of germany constantly commuted the sentence of death passed by the provincial tribunals into imprisonment for life, or burning on the cheek. a truer philosophy had gradually disabused the public mind. learned men freed themselves from the trammels of a debasing superstition, and governments, both civil and ecclesiastical, repressed the popular delusion they had so long encouraged. the parliament of normandy condemned a number of women to death, in the year , on the old charge of riding on broomsticks to the domdaniel; but louis xiv. commuted the sentence into banishment for life. the parliament remonstrated, and sent the king the following remarkable request. the reader will, perhaps, be glad to see this document at length. it is of importance, as the last effort of a legislative assembly to uphold this great error; and the arguments they used, and the instances they quoted, are in the highest degree curious. it reflects honour upon the memory of louis xiv. that he was not swayed by it. "request of the parliament of rouen to the king, in . "sire, "emboldened by the authority which your majesty has committed into our hands in the province of normandy, to try and punish offences, and more particularly those offences of the nature of witchcraft, which tend to the destruction of religion and the ruin of nations, we, your parliament, remonstrate humbly with your majesty upon certain cases of this kind which have been lately brought before us. we cannot permit the letter addressed by your majesty's command to the attorney-general of this district, for the reprieve of certain persons condemned to death for witchcraft, and for the staying of proceedings in several other cases, to remain unnoticed, and without remarking upon the consequences which may ensue. there is also a letter from your secretary of state, declaring your majesty's intention to commute the punishment of these criminals into one of perpetual banishment, and to submit to the opinion of the procureur-general, and of the most learned members of the parliament of paris, whether, in the matter of witchcraft, the jurisprudence of the parliament of rouen is to be followed in preference to that of the parliament of paris, and of the other parliaments of the kingdom which judge differently. "although by the ordinances of the kings your predecessors, parliaments have been forbidden to pay any attention to lettres de cachet; we, nevertheless, from the knowledge which we have, in common with the whole kingdom, of the care bestowed by your majesty for the good of your subjects, and from the submission and obedience to your commandments which we have always manifested, have stayed all proceedings, in conformity to your orders; hoping that your majesty, considering the importance of the crime of witchcraft, and the consequences likely to ensue from its impunity, will be graciously pleased to grant us once more your permission to continue the trials, and execute judgment upon those found guilty. and as, since we received the letter of your secretary of state, we have also been made acquainted with the determination of your majesty, not only to commute the sentence of death passed upon these witches into one of perpetual banishment from the province, but to re-establish them in the possession of their goods and chattels, and of their good fame and character, your parliament have thought it their duty, on occasion of these crimes, the greatest which men can commit, to make you acquainted with the general and uniform feelings of the people of this province with regard to them; it being, moreover, a question in which are concerned the glory of god and the relief of your suffering subjects, who groan under their fears from the threats and menaces of this sort of persons, and who feel the effects of them every day in the mortal and extraordinary maladies which attack them, and the surprising damage and loss of their possessions. "your majesty knows well that there is no crime so opposed to the commands of god as witchcraft, which destroys the very foundation of religion, and draws strange abominations after it. it is for this reason, sire, that the scriptures pronounce the punishment of death against offenders, and that the church and the holy fathers have fulminated their anathemas, and that canonical decisions have one and all decreed the most severe punishments, to deter from this crime; and that the church of france, animated by the piety of the kings your predecessors, has expressed so great a horror at it, that, not judging the punishment of perpetual imprisonment, the highest it has the power to inflict, sufficiently severe, it has left such criminals to be dealt with by the secular power. "it has been the general feeling of all nations that such criminals ought to be condemned to death, and all the ancients were of the same opinion. the law of the "twelve tables," which was the principal of the roman laws, ordains the same punishment. all jurisconsults agreed in it, as well as the constitutions of the emperors, and more especially those of constantine and theodosius, who, enlightened by the gospel, not only renewed the same punishment, but also deprived, expressly, all persons found guilty of witchcraft of the right of appeal, and declared them to be unworthy of a prince's mercy. and charles viii, sire, inspired by the same sentiments, passed that beautiful and severe ordinance (cette belle et severe ordonnance), which enjoined the judges to punish witches according to the exigencies of the case, under a penalty of being themselves fined or imprisoned, or dismissed from their office; and decreed, at the same time, that all persons who refused to denounce a witch, should be punished as accomplices; and that all, on the contrary, who gave evidence against one, should be rewarded. "from these considerations, sire, and in the execution of so holy an ordinance, your parliaments, by their decrees, proportion their punishments to the guilt of the offenders: and your parliament of normandy has never, until the present time, found that its practice was different from that of other courts; for all the books which treat upon this matter cite an infinite number of decrees condemning witches to be burnt, or broken on the wheel, or to other punishments. the following are examples:--in the time of chilperic, as may be seen in gregory of tours, b. vi, c. of his history of france: all the decrees of the parliament of paris passed according to, and in conformity with, this ancient jurisprudence of the kingdom, cited by imbert, in his "judicial practice;" all those cited by monstrelet, in , against the witches of artois; the decrees of the same parliament, of the th of october , against mary le fief, native of saumur; of the st of october , against the sieur de beaumont, who pleaded, in his defence, that he had only sought the aid of the devil for the purpose of unbewitching the afflicted and of curing diseases; of the th of july , against francis du bose; of the th of july , against abel de la rue, native of coulommiers; of the nd of october , against rousseau and his daughter; of , against another rousseau and one peley, for witchcraft and adoration of the devil at the sabbath, under the figure of a he-goat, as confessed by them; the decree of th of february , against leclerc, who appealed from the sentence of the parliament of orleans, and who was condemned for having attended the sabbath, and confessed, as well as two of his accomplices, who died in prison, that he had adored the devil, renounced his baptism and his faith in god, danced the witches' dance, and offered up unholy sacrifices; the decrees of the th of may , against a man named leger, on a similar accusation; the pardon granted by charles ix to trois echelles, upon condition of revealing his accomplices, but afterwards revoked for renewed sorcery on his part; the decree of the parliament of paris, cited by mornac in ; the judgments passed in consequence of the commission given by henry iv to the sieur de lancre, councillor of the parliament of bourdeaux; of the th of march , against etienne audibert; those passed by the chamber of nerac, on the th of june , against several witches; those passed by the parliament of toulouse in , as cited by gregory tolosanus, against four hundred persons accused of this crime, and who were all marked with the sign of the devil. besides all these, we might recall to your majesty's recollection the various decrees of the parliament of provence, especially in the case of gaufredy in ; the decrees of the parliament of dijon, and those of the parliament of rennes, following the example of the condemnation of the marshal de rays, who was burned in , for the crime of witchcraft, in presence of the duke of brittany;--all these examples, sire, prove that the accusation of witchcraft has always been punished with death by the parliaments of your kingdom, and justify the uniformity of their practice. "these, sire, are the motives upon which your parliament of normandy has acted in decreeing the punishment of death against the persons lately brought before it for this crime. if it has happened that, on any occasion, these parliaments, and the parliament of normandy among the rest, have condemned the guilty to a less punishment than that of death, it was for the reason that their guilt was not of the deepest dye; your majesty, and the kings your predecessors, having left full liberty to the various tribunals to whom they delegated the administration of justice, to decree such punishment as was warranted by the evidence brought before them. "after so many authorities, and punishments ordained by human and divine laws, we humbly supplicate your majesty to reflect once more upon the extraordinary results which proceed from the malevolence of this sort of people--on the deaths from unknown diseases, which are often the consequences of their menaces--on the loss of the goods and chattels of your subjects--on the proofs of guilt continually afforded by the insensibility of the marks upon the accused--on the sudden transportation of bodies from one place to another--on the sacrifices and nocturnal assemblies, and other facts, corroborated by the testimony of ancient and modern authors, and verified by so many eye-witnesses, composed partly of accomplices, and partly of people who had no interest in the trials beyond the love of truth, and confirmed, moreover, by the confessions of the accused parties themselves; and that, sire, with so much agreement and conformity between the different cases, that the most ignorant persons convicted of this crime have spoken to the same circumstances, and in nearly the same words, as the most celebrated authors who have written about it, all of which may be easily proved to your majesty's satisfaction by the records of various trials before your parliaments. "these, sire, are truths so intimately bound up with the principles of our religion, that, extraordinary although they be, no person has been able to this time to call them in question. if some have cited, in opposition to these truths, the pretended canon of the council of ancyre, and a passage from st. augustin, in a treatise upon the 'spirit and the soul', it has been without foundation; and it would be easy to convince your majesty that neither the one nor the other ought to be accounted of any authority; and, besides that, the canon, in this sense, would be contrary to the opinion of all succeeding councils of the church, cardinal baronius, and all learned commentators, agree that it is not to be found in any old edition. in effect, in those editions wherein it is found, it is in another language, and is in direct contradiction to the twenty-third canon of the same council, which condemns sorcery, according to all preceding constitutions. even supposing that this canon was really promulgated by the council of ancyre, we must observe that it was issued in the second century, when the principal attention of the church was directed to the destruction of paganism. for this reason, it condemns that class of women who said they could pass through the air, and over immense regions, with diana and herodias, and enjoins all preachers to teach the falsehood of such an opinion, in order to deter people from the worship of these false divinities; but it does not question the power of the devil over the human body, which is, in fact, proved by the holy gospel of jesus christ himself. and with regard, sire, to the pretended passage of st. augustin, everybody knows that it was not written by him, because the writer, whoever he was, cites boetius, who died more than eighty years after the time of st. augustin. besides, there is still more convincing proof in the fact, that the same father establishes the truth of witchcraft in all his writings, and more particularly in his 'city of god;' and in his first volume, question the th, wherein he states that sorcery is a communion between man and the devil, which all good christians ought to look upon with horror. "taking all these things into consideration, sire, the officers of your parliament hope, from the justice of your majesty, that you will be graciously pleased to receive the humble remonstrances they have taken the liberty to make. they are compelled, for the acquittal of their own consciences and in discharge of their duty, to make known to your majesty, that the decrees they passed against the sorcerers and witches brought before them, were passed after a mature deliberation on the part of all the judges present, and that nothing has been done therein which is not conformable to the universal jurisprudence of the kingdom, and for the general welfare of your majesty's subjects, of whom there is not one who can say that he is secure from the malevolence of such criminals. we therefore supplicate your majesty to suffer us to carry into effect the sentences we passed, and to proceed with the trial of the other persons accused of the same crime; and that the piety of your majesty will not suffer to be introduced during your reign an opinion contrary to the principles of that holy religion for which you have always employed so gloriously both your cares and your arms." louis, as we have already mentioned, paid no attention to this appeal. the lives of the old women were spared, and prosecutions for mere witchcraft, unconnected with other offences, were discontinued throughout france. in an act was passed for the punishment, not of witches, but of pretenders to witchcraft, fortune-tellers, divineresses, and poisoners. thus the light broke in upon germany, france, england, and scotland about the same time, gradually growing clearer and clearer till the middle of the eighteenth century, when witchcraft was finally reckoned amongst exploded doctrines, and the belief in it confined to the uttermost vulgar. twice, however, did the madness burst forth again as furious, while it lasted, as ever it had been. the first time in sweden, in , and the second in germany, so late as . both these instances merit particular mention. the first is one of the most extraordinary upon record, and for atrocity and absurdity is unsurpassed in the annals of any nation. it having been reported to the king of sweden that the little village of mohra, in the province of dalecarlia, was troubled exceedingly with witches, he appointed a commission of clergy and laymen to trace the rumour to its source, with full powers to punish the guilty. on the th of august , the commissioners arrived in the bewitched village, to the great joy of the credulous inhabitants. on the following day the whole population, amounting to three thousand persons, assembled in the church. a sermon was preached, "declaring the miserable case of those people that suffered themselves to be deluded by the devil," and fervent prayer was offered up that god would remove the scourge from among them. the whole assembly then adjourned to the rector's house, filling all the street before it, when the king's commission was read, charging every person who knew anything of the witchery, to come forward and declare the truth. a passion of tears seized upon the multitude; men, women, and children began to weep and sob, and all promised to divulge what they had heard or knew. in this frame of mind they were dismissed to their homes. on the following day they were again called together, when the depositions of several persons were taken publicly before them all. the result was that seventy persons, including fifteen children, were taken into custody. numbers also were arrested in the neighbouring district of elfdale. being put to the torture, they all confessed their guilt. they said they used to go to a gravel-pit that lay hard by the cross-way, where they put a vest upon their heads, and danced "round and round and round about." they then went to the cross-way, and called three times upon the devil; the first time in a low still voice; the second, somewhat louder; and the third, very loudly, with these words, "antecessor, come, and carry us to blockula!" this invocation never failed to bring him to their view. he generally appeared as a little old man, in a grey coat, with red and blue stockings, with exceedingly long garters. he had besides a very high-crowned hat, with bands of many-coloured linen enfolded about it, and a long red beard, that hung down to his middle. the first question he put to them was, whether they would serve him soul and body? on their answering in the affirmative, he told them to make ready for the journey to blockula. it was necessary to procure, in the first place, "some scrapings of altars and filings of church clocks." antecessor then gave them a horn, with some salve in it, wherewith they anointed themselves. these preparations ended, he brought beasts for them to ride upon, horses, asses, goats, and monkeys; and, giving them a saddle, a hammer, and a nail, uttered the word of command, and away they went. nothing stopped them. they flew over churches, high walls, rocks, and mountains, until they came to the green meadow where blockula was situated. upon these occasions they carried as many children with them as they could; for the devil, they said, "did plague and whip them if they did not procure him children, insomuch that they had no peace or quiet for him." many parents corroborated a part of this evidence, stating that their children had repeatedly told them that they had been carried away in the night to blockula, where the devil had beaten them black and blue. they had seen the marks in the morning, but they soon disappeared. one little girl was examined, who swore positively that she was carried through the air by the witches, and when at a great height she uttered the holy name of jesus. she immediately fell to the ground, and made a great hole in her side. "the devil, however, picked her up, healed her side, and carried her away to blockula." she added, and her mother confirmed her statement, that she had till that day "an exceeding great pain in her side." this was a clencher, and the nail of conviction was driven home to the hearts of the judges. the place called blockula, whither they were carried, was a large house, with a gate to it, "in a delicate meadow, whereof they could see no end." there was a very long table in it, at which the witches sat down; and in other rooms "there were very lovely and delicate beds for them to sleep upon." after a number of ceremonies had been performed, by which they bound themselves, body and soul, to the service of antecessor, they sat down to a feast, composed of broth, made of colworts and bacon, oatmeal, bread and butter, milk and cheese. the devil always took the chair, and sometimes played to them on the harp or the fiddle, while they were eating. after dinner they danced in a ring, sometimes naked, and sometimes in their clothes, cursing and swearing all the time. some of the women added particulars too horrible and too obscene for repetition. once the devil pretended to be dead, that he might see whether his people regretted him. they instantly set up a loud wail, and wept three tears each for him, at which he was so pleased, that he jumped up among them, and hugged in his arms those who had been most obstreperous in their sorrow. such were the principal details given by the children, and corroborated by the confessions of the full-grown witches. anything more absurd was never before stated in a court of justice. many of the accused contradicted themselves most palpably; but the commissioners gave no heed to discrepancies. one of them, the parson of the district, stated, in the course of the inquiry, that on a particular night, which he mentioned, he had been afflicted with a headach so agonizing, that he could not account for it otherwise than by supposing he was bewitched. in fact, he thought a score of witches must have been dancing on the crown of his head. this announcement excited great horror among the pious dames of the auditory, who loudly expressed their wonder that the devil should have power to hurt so good a man. one poor witch, who lay in the very jaws of death, confessed that she knew too well the cause of the minister's headach. the devil had sent her with a sledge hammer and a large nail, to drive into the good man's skull. she had hammered at it for some time, but the skull was so enormously thick, that she made no impression upon it. every hand was held up in astonishment. the pious minister blessed god that his skull was so solid, and he became renowned for his thick head all the days of his life. whether the witch intended a joke does not appear, but she was looked upon as a criminal more than usually atrocious. seventy persons were condemned to death on these so awful yet so ridiculous confessions. twenty-three of them were burned together, in one fire, in the village of mohra, in the presence of thousands of delighted spectators. on the following day fifteen children were murdered in the same manner; offered up in sacrifice to the bloody moloch of superstition. the remaining thirty-two were executed at the neighbouring town of fahluna. besides these, fifty-six children were found guilty of witchcraft in a minor degree, and sentenced to various punishments, such as running the gauntlet, imprisonment, and public whipping once a week for a twelvemonth. long after the occurrence of this case, it was cited as one of the most convincing proofs upon record of the prevalence of witchcraft. when men wish to construct or support a theory, how they torture facts into their service! the lying whimsies of a few sick children, encouraged by foolish parents, and drawn out by superstitious neighbours, were sufficient to set a country in a flame. if, instead of commissioners as deeply sunk in the slough of ignorance as the people they were sent amongst, there had been deputed a few men firm in courage and clear in understanding, how different would have been the result! some of the poor children who were burned would have been sent to an infirmary; others would have been well flogged; the credulity of the parents would have been laughed at, and the lives of seventy persons spared. the belief in witchcraft remains in sweden to this day; but, happily, the annals of that country present no more such instances of lamentable aberration of intellect as the one just cited. in new england, about the same time, the colonists were scared by similar stories of the antics of the devil. all at once a fear seized upon the multitude, and supposed criminals were arrested day after day in such numbers, that the prisons were found too small to contain them. a girl, named goodwin, the daughter of a mason, who was hypochondriac and subject to fits, imagined that an old irishwoman, named glover, had bewitched her. her two brothers, in whose constitutions there was apparently a predisposition to similar fits, went off in the same way, crying out that the devil and dame glover were tormenting them. at times their joints were so stiff that they could not be moved, while at others, said the neighbours, they were so flexible, that the bones appeared softened into sinews. the supposed witch was seized, and, as she could not repeat the lord's prayer without making a mistake in it, she was condemned and executed. but the popular excitement was not allayed. one victim was not enough: the people waited agape for new disclosures. suddenly two hysteric girls in another family fell into fits daily, and the cry of witchcraft resounded from one end of the colony to the other. the feeling of suffocation in the throat, so common in cases of hysteria, was said by the patients to be caused by the devil himself, who had stuck balls in the windpipe to choke them. they felt the pricking of thorns in every part of the body, and one of them vomited needles. the case of these girls, who were the daughter and niece of a mr. parris, the minister of a calvinist chapel, excited so much attention, that all the weak women in the colony began to fancy themselves similarly afflicted. the more they brooded on it, the more convinced they became. the contagion of this mental disease was as great as if it had been a pestilence. one after the other the women fainted away, asserting, on their recovery, that they had seen the spectres of witches. where there were three or four girls in a family, they so worked, each upon the diseased imagination of the other, that they fell into fits five or six times in a day. some related that the devil himself appeared to them, bearing in his hand a parchment roll, and promising that if they would sign an agreement transferring to him their immortal souls, they should be immediately relieved from fits and all the ills of the flesh. others asserted that they saw witches only, who made them similar promises, threatening that they should never be free from aches and pains till they had agreed to become the devil's. when they refused, the witches pinched, or bit, or pricked them with long pins and needles. more than two hundred persons named by these mischievous visionaries, were thrown into prison. they were of all ages and conditions of life, and many of them of exemplary character. no less than nineteen were condemned and executed before reason returned to the minds of the colonists. the most horrible part of this lamentable history is, that among the victims there was a little child only five years old. some women swore that they had seen it repeatedly in company with the devil, and that it had bitten them often with its little teeth, for refusing to sign a compact with the evil one. it can hardly increase our feelings of disgust and abhorrence when we learn that this insane community actually tried and executed a dog for the same offence! one man, named cory, stoutly refused to plead to the preposterous indictment against him. as was the practice in such eases, he was pressed to death. it is told of the sheriff of new england, who superintended the execution, that when this unhappy man thrust out his tongue in his mortal agony, he seized hold of a cane, and crammed it back again into the mouth. if ever there were a fiend in human form, it was this sheriff; a man, who, if the truth were known, perhaps plumed himself upon his piety--thought he was doing god good service, and "hoped to merit heaven by making earth a hell!" arguing still in the firm belief of witchcraft, the bereaved people began to inquire, when they saw their dearest friends snatched away from them by these wide-spreading accusations, whether the whole proceedings were not carried on by the agency of the devil. might not the great enemy have put false testimony into the mouths of the witnesses, or might not the witnesses be witches themselves? every man who was in danger of losing his wife, his child, or his sister, embraced this doctrine with avidity. the revulsion was as sudden as the first frenzy. all at once, the colonists were convinced of their error. the judges put a stop to the prosecutions, even of those who had confessed their guilt. the latter were no sooner at liberty than they retracted all they had said, and the greater number hardly remembered the avowals which agony had extorted from them. eight persons, who had been tried and condemned, were set free; and gradually girls ceased to have fits and to talk of the persecutions of the devil. the judge who had condemned the first criminal executed on this charge, was so smitten with sorrow and humiliation at his folly, that he set apart the anniversary of that day as one of solemn penitence and fasting. he still clung to the belief in witchcraft; no new light had broken in upon him on that subject, but, happily for the community, the delusion had taken a merciful turn. the whole colony shared the feeling; the jurors on the different trials openly expressed their penitence in the churches; and those who had suffered were regarded as the victims, and not the accomplices of satan. it is related that the indian tribes in new england were sorely puzzled at the infatuation of the settlers, and thought them either a race inferior to, or more sinful than the french colonists in the vicinity, amongst whom, as they remarked, "the great spirit sent no witches." returning again to the continent of europe, we find that, after the year , men became still wiser upon this subject. for twenty years the populace were left to their belief, but governments in general gave it no aliment in the shape of executions. the edict of louis xiv. gave a blow to the superstition, from which it never recovered. the last execution in the protestant cantons of switzerland was at geneva, in . the various potentates of germany, although they could not stay the trials, invariably commuted the sentence into imprisonment, in all cases where the pretended witch was accused of pure witchcraft, unconnected with any other crime. in the year , thomasius, the learned professor at the university of halle, delivered his inaugural thesis, "de crimine magiae," which struck another blow at the falling monster of popular error. but a faith so strong as that in witchcraft was not to be eradicated at once: the arguments of learned men did not penetrate to the villages and hamlets, but still they achieved great things; they rendered the belief an unworking faith, and prevented the supply of victims, on which for so many ages it had battened and grown strong. once more the delusion broke out; like a wild beast wounded to the death, it collected all its remaining energies for the final convulsion, which was to show how mighty it had once been. germany, which had nursed the frightful error in its cradle, tended it on its death-bed, and wurzburg, the scene of so many murders on the same pretext, was destined to be the scene of the last. that it might lose no portion of its bad renown, the last murder was as atrocious as the first. this case offers a great resemblance to that of the witches of mohra and new england, except in the number of its victims. it happened so late as the year , to the astonishment and disgust of the rest of europe. a number of young women in a convent at wurzburg fancied themselves bewitched; they felt, like all hysteric subjects, a sense of suffocation in the throat. they went into fits repeatedly; and one of them, who had swallowed needles, evacuated them at abscesses, which formed in different parts of the body. the cry of sorcery was raised, and a young woman, named maria renata sanger, was arrested on the charge of having leagued with the devil, to bewitch five of the young ladies. it was sworn on the trial that maria had been frequently seen to clamber over the convent walls in the shape of a pig--that, proceeding to the cellar, she used to drink the best wine till she was intoxicated; and then start suddenly up in her own form. other girls asserted that she used to prowl about the roof like a cat, and often penetrate into their chamber, and frighten them by her dreadful howlings. it was also said that she had been seen in the shape of a hare, milking the cows dry in the meadows belonging to the convent; that she used to perform as an actress on the boards of drury lane theatre in london, and, on the very same night, return upon a broomstick to wurzburg, and afflict the young ladies with pains in all their limbs. upon this evidence she was condemned, and burned alive in the market-place of wurzburg. here ends this frightful catalogue of murder and superstition. since that day, the belief in witchcraft has fled from the populous abodes of men, and taken refuge in remote villages and districts too wild, rugged, and inhospitable to afford a resting-place for the foot of civilization. rude fishers and uneducated labourers still attribute every phenomenon of nature which they cannot account for, to the devil and witches. catalepsy, that wondrous disease, is still thought by ignorant gossips to be the work of satan; and hypochondriacs, uninformed by science of the nature of their malady, devoutly believe in the reality of their visions. the reader would hardly credit the extent of the delusion upon this subject in the very heart of england at this day. many an old woman leads a life of misery from the unfeeling insults of her neighbours, who raise the scornful finger and hooting voice at her, because in her decrepitude she is ugly, spiteful, perhaps insane, and realizes in her personal appearance the description preserved by tradition of the witches of yore. even in the neighbourhood of great towns the taint remains of this once widely-spread contagion. if no victims fall beneath it, the enlightenment of the law is all that prevents a recurrence of scenes as horrid as those of the seventeeth century. hundreds upon hundreds of witnesses could be found to swear to absurdities as great as those asserted by the infamous matthew hopkins. in the annual register for , an instance of the belief in witchcraft is related, which shows how superstition lingers. a dispute arose in the little village of glen, in leicestershire, between two old women, each of whom vehemently accused the other of witchcraft. the quarrel at last ran so high that a challenge ensued, and they both agreed to be tried by the ordeal of swimming. they accordingly stripped to their shifts--procured some men, who tied their thumbs and great toes together, cross-wise, and then, with a cart-rope about their middle, suffered themselves to be thrown into a pool of water. one of them sank immediately, but the other continued struggling a short time upon the surface of the water, which the mob deeming an infallible sign of her guilt, pulled her out, and insisted that she should immediately impeach all her accomplices in the craft. she accordingly told them that, in the neighbouring village of burton, there were several old women as "much witches as she was." happily for her, this negative information was deemed sufficient, and a student in astrology, or "white-witch," coming up at the time, the mob, by his direction, proceeded forthwith to burton in search of all the delinquents. after a little consultation on their arrival, they went to the old woman's house on whom they had fixed the strongest suspicion. the poor old creature on their approach locked the outer door, and from the window of an upstairs room asked what they wanted. they informed her that she was charged with being guilty of witchcraft, and that they were come to duck her; remonstrating with her at the same time upon the necessity of submission to the ordeal, that, if she were innocent, all the world might know it. upon her persisting in a positive refusal to come down, they broke open the door and carried her out by force, to a deep gravel-pit full of water. they tied her thumbs and toes together and threw her into the water, where they kept her for several minutes, drawing her out and in two or three times by the rope round her middle. not being able to satisfy themselves whether she were a witch or no, they at last let her go, or, more properly speaking, they left her on the bank to walk home by herself, if she ever recovered. next day, they tried the same experiment upon another woman, and afterwards upon a third; but, fortunately, neither of the victims lost her life from this brutality. many of the ringleaders in the outrage were apprehended during the week, and tried before the justices at quarter-sessions. two of them were sentenced to stand in the pillory and to be imprisoned for a month; and as many as twenty more were fined in small sums for the assault, and bound over to keep the peace for a twelvemonth. "so late as the year ," says arnot, in his collection and abridgment of criminal trials in scotland, "it was the custom among the sect of seceders to read from the pulpit an annual confession of sins, national and personal; amongst the former of which was particularly mentioned the 'repeal by parliament of the penal statute against witches, contrary to the express laws of god.'" many houses are still to be found in england with the horse-shoe (the grand preservative against witchcraft) nailed against the threshold. if any over-wise philosopher should attempt to remove them, the chances are that he would have more broken bones than thanks for his interference. let any man walk into cross-street, hatton-garden, and from thence into bleeding-heart yard, and learn the tales still told and believed of one house in that neighbourhood, and he will ask himself in astonishment if such things can be in the nineteenth century. the witchcraft of lady hatton, the wife of the famous sir christopher, so renowned for his elegant dancing in the days of elizabeth, is as devoutly believed as the gospels. the room is to be seen where the devil seized her after the expiration of the contract he had made with her, and bore her away bodily to the pit of tophet: the pump against which he dashed her is still pointed out, and the spot where her heart was found, after he had torn it out of her bosom with his iron claws, has received the name of bleeding-heart yard, in confirmation of the story. whether the horse-shoe still remains upon the door of the haunted house, to keep away other witches, is uncertain; but there it was, twelve or thirteen years ago. the writer resided at that time in the house alluded to, and well remembers that more than one old woman begged for admittance repeatedly, to satisfy themselves that it was in its proper place. one poor creature, apparently insane, and clothed in rags, came to the door with a tremendous double-knock, as loud as that of a fashionable footman, and walked straight along the passage to the horse-shoe. great was the wonderment of the inmates, especially when the woman spat upon the horse-shoe, and expressed her sorrow that she could do no harm while it remained there. after spitting upon, and kicking it again and again, she coolly turned round and left the house, without saying a word to anybody. this poor creature perhaps intended a joke, but the probability is that she imagined herself a witch. in saffron hill, where she resided, her ignorant neighbours gave her that character, and looked upon her with no little fear and aversion. more than one example of the popular belief in witchcraft occurred in the neighbourhood of hastings so lately as the year . an aged woman, who resided in the rope-walk of that town, was so repulsive in her appearance, that she was invariably accused of being a witch by all the ignorant people who knew her. she was bent completely double; and though very old, her eye was unusually bright and malignant. she wore a red cloak, and supported herself on a crutch: she was, to all outward appearance, the very beau ideal of a witch. so dear is power to the human heart, that this old woman actually encouraged the popular superstition: she took no pains to remove the ill impression, but seemed to delight that she, old and miserable as she was, could keep in awe so many happier and stronger fellow-creatures. timid girls crouched with fear when they met her, and many would go a mile out of their way to avoid her. like the witches of the olden time, she was not sparing of her curses against those who offended her. the child of a woman who resided within two doors of her, was afflicted with lameness, and the mother constantly asserted that the old woman had bewitched her. all the neighbours credited the tale. it was believed, too, that she could assume the form of a cat. many a harmless puss has been hunted almost to the death by mobs of men and boys, upon the supposition that the animal would start up before them in the true shape of mother * * * * *. in the same town there resided a fisherman,--who is, probably, still alive, and whose name, for that reason, we forbear to mention,--who was the object of unceasing persecution, because it was said that he had sold himself to the devil. it was currently reported that he could creep through a keyhole, and that he had made a witch of his daughter, in order that he might have the more power over his fellows. it was also believed that he could sit on the points of pins and needles, and feel no pain. his brother-fishermen put him to this test whenever they had an opportunity. in the alehouses which he frequented, they often placed long needles in the cushions of the chairs, in such a manner that he could not fail to pierce himself when he sat down. the result of these experiments tended to confirm their faith in his supernatural powers. it was asserted that he never flinched. such was the popular feeling in the fashionable town of hastings only seven years ago; very probably it is the same now. in the north of england, the superstition lingers to an almost inconceivable extent. lancashire abounds with witch-doctors, a set of quacks, who pretend to cure diseases inflicted by the devil. the practices of these worthies may be judged of by the following case, reported in the "hertford reformer," of the rd of june, . the witch-doctor alluded to is better known by the name of the cunning man, and has a large practice in the counties of lincoln and nottingham. according to the writer in "the reformer," the dupe, whose name is not mentioned, had been for about two years afflicted with a painful abscess, and had been prescribed for without relief by more than one medical gentleman. he was urged by some of his friends, not only in his own village, but in neighbouring ones, to consult the witch-doctor, as they were convinced he was under some evil influence. he agreed, and sent his wife to the cunning man, who lived in new saint swithin's, in lincoln. she was informed by this ignorant impostor that her husband's disorder was an infliction of the devil, occasioned by his next-door neighbours, who had made use of certain charms for that purpose. from the description he gave of the process, it appears to be the same as that employed by dr. fian and gellie duncan, to work woe upon king james. he stated that the neighbours, instigated by a witch, whom he pointed out, took some wax, and moulded it before the fire into the form of her husband, as near as they could represent him; they then pierced the image with pins on all sides--repeated the lord's prayer backwards, and offered prayers to the devil that he would fix his stings into the person whom that figure represented, in like manner as they pierced it with pins. to counteract the effects of this diabolical process, the witch-doctor prescribed a certain medicine, and a charm to be worn next the body, on that part where the disease principally lay. the patient was to repeat the th and th psalms every day, or the cure would not be effectual. the fee which he claimed for this advice was a guinea. so efficacious is faith in the cure of any malady, that the patient actually felt much better after a three weeks' course of this prescription. the notable charm which the quack had given was afterwards opened, and found to be a piece of parchment, covered with some cabalistic characters and signs of the planets. the next-door neighbours were in great alarm that the witch-doctor would, on the solicitation of the recovering patient, employ some means to punish them for their pretended witchcraft. to escape the infliction, they feed another cunning man, in nottinghamshire, who told them of a similar charm, which would preserve them from all the malice of their enemies. the writer concludes by saying that, "the doctor, not long after he had been thus consulted, wrote to say that he had discovered that his patient was not afflicted by satan, as he had imagined, but by god, and would continue, more or less, in the same state till his life's end." an impostor carried on a similar trade in the neighbourhood of tunbridge wells, about the year . he had been in practice for several years, and charged enormous fees for his advice. this fellow pretended to be the seventh son of a seventh son, and to be endowed in consequence with miraculous powers for the cure of all diseases, but especially of those resulting from witchcraft. it was not only the poor who employed him, but ladies who rode in their carriages. he was often sent for from a distance of sixty or seventy miles by these people, who paid all his expenses to and fro, besides rewarding him handsomely. he was about eighty years of age, and his extremely venerable appearance aided his imposition in no slight degree. his name was okey, or oakley. in france, the superstition at this day is even more prevalent than it is in england. garinet, in his history of magic and sorcery in that country, cites upwards of twenty instances which occurred between the years and . in the latter year, no less than three tribunals were occupied with trials originating in this humiliating belief: we shall cite only one of them. julian desbourdes, aged fifty-three, a mason, and inhabitant of the village of thilouze, near bordeaux, was taken suddenly ill, in the month of january . as he did not know how to account for his malady, he suspected at last that he was bewitched. he communicated this suspicion to his son-in-law, bridier, and they both went to consult a sort of idiot, named baudouin, who passed for a conjuror, or white-witch. this man told them that desbourdes was certainly bewitched, and offered to accompany them to the house of an old man, named renard, who, he said, was undoubtedly the criminal. on the night of the rd of january all three proceeded stealthily to the dwelling of renard, and accused him of afflicting persons with diseases, by the aid of the devil. desbourdes fell on his knees, and earnestly entreated to be restored to his former health, promising that he would take no measures against him for the evil he had done. the old man denied in the strongest terms that he was a wizard; and when desbourdes still pressed him to remove the spell from him, he said he knew nothing about the spell, and refused to remove it. the idiot baudouin, the white-witch, now interfered, and told his companions that no relief for the malady could ever be procured until the old man confessed his guilt. to force him to confession they lighted some sticks of sulphur, which they had brought with them for the purpose, and placed them under the old man's nose. in a few moments, he fell down suffocated and apparently lifeless. they were all greatly alarmed; and thinking that they had killed the man, they carried him out and threw him into a neighbouring pond, hoping to make it appear that he had fallen in accidentally. the pond, however, was not very deep, and the coolness of the water reviving the old man, he opened his eyes and sat up. desbourdes and bridier, who were still waiting on the bank, were now more alarmed than before, lest he should recover and inform against them. they, therefore, waded into the pond--seized their victim by the hair of the head--beat him severely, and then held him under water till he was drowned. they were all three apprehended on the charge of murder a few days afterwards. desbourdes and bridier were found guilty of aggravated manslaughter only, and sentenced to be burnt on the back, and to work in the galleys for life. the white-witch baudouin was acquitted, on the ground of insanity. m. garinet further informs us that france, at the time he wrote ( ), was overrun by a race of fellows, who made a trade of casting out devils and finding out witches. he adds, also, that many of the priests in the rural districts encouraged the superstition of their parishioners, by resorting frequently to exorcisms, whenever any foolish persons took it into their heads that a spell had been thrown over them. he recommended, as a remedy for the evil, that all these exorcists, whether lay or clerical, should be sent to the galleys, and that the number of witches would then very sensibly diminish. many other instances of this lingering belief might be cited both in france and great britain, and indeed in every other country in europe. so deeply rooted are some errors that ages cannot remove them. the poisonous tree that once overshadowed the land, may be cut down by the sturdy efforts of sages and philosophers--the sun may shine clearly upon spots where venemous things once nestled in security and shade; but still the entangled roots are stretched beneath the surface, and may be found by those who dig. another king, like james i, might make them vegetate again; and, more mischievous still, another pope, like innocent viii, might raise the decaying roots to strength and verdure. still, it is consoling to think, that the delirium has passed away; that the raging madness has given place to a milder folly; and that we may now count by units the votaries of a superstition which, in former ages, numbered its victims by tens of thousands, and its votaries by millions. the slow poisoners. pescara.--the like was never read of. stephano.--in my judgment, to all that shall but hear it, 't will appear a most impossible fable. pescara.--troth, i'll tell you, and briefly as i can, by what degrees they fell into this madness. duke of milan. the atrocious system of poisoning, by poisons so slow in their operation, as to make the victim appear, to ordinary observers, as if dying from a gradual decay of nature, has been practised in all ages. those who are curious in the matter may refer to beckmann on secret poisons, in his "history of inventions," in which he has collected several instances of it from the greek and roman writers. early in the sixteenth century the crime seems to have gradually increased, till, in the seventeenth, it spread over europe like a pestilence. it was often exercised by pretended witches and sorcerers, and finally became a branch of education amongst all who laid any claim to magical and supernatural arts. in the twenty-first year of henry viii. an act was passed, rendering it high-treason: those found guilty of it, were to be boiled to death. one of the first in point of date, and hardly second to any in point of atrocity, is the murder by this means of sir thomas overbury, which disgraced the court of james i, in the year . a slight sketch of it will be a fitting introduction to the history of the poisoning mania, which was so prevalent in france and italy fifty years later. robert kerr, a scottish youth, was early taken notice of by james i, and loaded with honours, for no other reason that the world could ever discover than the beauty of his person. james, even in his own day, was suspected of being addicted to the most abominable of all offences, and the more we examine his history now, the stronger the suspicion becomes. however that may be, the handsome kerr, lending his smooth cheek, even in public, to the disgusting kisses of his royal master, rose rapidly in favour. in the year , he was made lord high treasurer of scotland, and created an english peer, by the style and title of viscount rochester. still further honours were in store for him. in this rapid promotion he had not been without a friend. sir thomas overbury, the king's secretary-who appears, from some threats in his own letters, to have been no better than a pander to the vices of the king, and privy to his dangerous secrets--exerted all his backstair influence to forward the promotion of kerr, by whom he was, doubtless, repaid in some way or other. overbury did not confine his friendship to this, if friendship ever could exist between two such men, but acted the part of an entremetteur, and assisted rochester to carry on an adulterous intrigue with the lady frances howard, the wife of the earl of essex. this woman was a person of violent passions, and lost to all sense of shame. her husband was in her way, and to be freed from him, she instituted proceedings for a divorce, on grounds which a woman of any modesty or delicacy of feeling would die rather than avow. her scandalous suit was successful, and was no sooner decided than preparations, on a scale of the greatest magnificence, were made for her marriage with lord rochester. sir thomas overbury, who had willingly assisted his patron to intrigue with the countess of essex, seems to have imagined that his marriage with so vile a woman might retard his advancement; he accordingly employed all his influence to dissuade him from it. but rochester was bent on the match, and his passions were as violent as those of the countess. on one occasion, when overbury and the viscount were walking in the gallery of whitehall, overbury was overheard to say, "well, my lord, if you do marry that base woman, you will utterly ruin your honour and yourself. you shall never do it with my advice or consent; and, if you do, you had best look to stand fast." rochester flung from him in a rage, exclaiming with an oath, "i will be even with you for this." these words were the death-warrant of the unfortunate overbury. he had mortally wounded the pride of rochester in insinuating that by his (overbury's) means he might be lowered in the king's favour; and he had endeavoured to curb the burning passions of a heartless, dissolute, and reckless man. overbury's imprudent remonstrances were reported to the countess; and from that moment, she also vowed the most deadly vengeance against him. with a fiendish hypocrisy, however, they both concealed their intentions, and overbury, at the solicitation of rochester, was appointed ambassador to the court of russia. this apparent favour was but the first step in a deep and deadly plot. rochester, pretending to be warmly attached to the interests of overbury, advised him to refuse the embassy, which, he said, was but a trick to get him out of the way. he promised, at the same time, to stand between him and any evil consequences which might result from his refusal. overbury fell into the snare, and declined the embassy. james, offended, immediately ordered his committal to the tower. he was now in safe custody, and his enemies had opportunity to commence the work of vengeance. the first thing rochester did was to procure, by his influence at court, the dismissal of the lieutenant of the tower, and the appointment of sir jervis elwes, one of his creatures, to the vacant post. this man was but one instrument, and another being necessary, was found in richard weston, a fellow who had formerly been shopman to a druggist. he was installed in the office of under-keeper, and as such had the direct custody of overbury. so far, all was favourable to the designs of the conspirators. in the mean time, the insidious rochester wrote the most friendly letters to overbury, requesting him to bear his ill-fortune patiently, and promising that his imprisonment should not be of long duration; for that his friends were exerting themselves to soften the king's displeasure. still pretending the extreme of sympathy for him, he followed up the letters by presents of pastry and other delicacies, which could not be procured in the tower. these articles were all poisoned. occasionally, presents of a similar description were sent to sir jervis elwes, with the understanding that these articles were not poisoned, when they were unaccompanied by letters: of these the unfortunate prisoner never tasted. a woman, named turner, who had formerly kept a house of ill fame, and who had more than once lent it to further the guilty intercourse of rochester and lady essex, was the agent employed to procure the poisons. they were prepared by dr. forman, a pretended fortune-teller of lambeth, assisted by an apothecary named franklin. both these persons knew for what purposes the poisons were needed, and employed their skill in mixing them in the pastry and other edibles, in such small quantities as gradually to wear out the constitution of their victim. mrs. turner regularly furnished the poisoned articles to the under-keeper, who placed them before overbury. not only his food, but his drink was poisoned. arsenic was mixed with the salt he ate, and cantharides with the pepper. all this time, his health declined sensibly. every day he grew weaker and weaker; and with a sickly appetite, craved for sweets and jellies. rochester continued to condole with him, and anticipated all his wants in this respect, sending him abundance of pastry, and occasionally partridges and other game, and young pigs. with the sauce for the game, mrs. turner mixed a quantity of cantharides, and poisoned the pork with lunar-caustic. as stated on the trial, overbury took in this manner poison enough to have poisoned twenty men; but his constitution was strong, and he still lingered. franklin, the apothecary, confessed that he prepared with dr. forman seven different sorts of poisons; viz. aquafortis, arsenic, mercury, powder of diamonds, lunar-caustic, great spiders, and cantharides. overbury held out so long that rochester became impatient, and in a letter to lady essex, expressed his wonder that things were not sooner despatched. orders were immediately sent by lady essex to the keeper to finish with the victim at once. overbury had not been all this time without suspicion of treachery, although he appears to have had no idea of poison. he merely suspected that it was intended to confine him for life, and to set the king still more bitterly against him. in one of his letters, he threatened rochester that, unless he were speedily liberated, he would expose his villany to the world. he says, "you and i, ere it be long, will come to a public trial of another nature." * * * "drive me not to extremities, lest i should say something that both you and i should repent." * * * "whether i live or die, your shame shall never die, but ever remain to the world, to make you the most odious man living." * * * "i wonder much you should neglect him to whom such secrets of all kinds have passed." * * * "be these the fruits of common secrets, common dangers?" all these remonstrances, and hints as to the dangerous secrets in his keeping, were ill-calculated to serve him with a man so reckless as lord rochester: they were more likely to cause him to be sacrificed than to be saved. rochester appears to have acted as if he thought so. he doubtless employed the murderer's reasoning that "dead men tell no tales," when, after receiving letters of this description, he complained to his paramour of the delay. weston was spurred on to consummate the atrocity; and the patience of all parties being exhausted, a dose of corrosive sublimate was administered to him, in october , which put an end to his sufferings, after he had been for six months in their hands. on the very day of his death, and before his body was cold, he was wrapped up carelessly in a sheet, and buried without any funeral ceremony in a pit within the precincts of the tower. sir anthony weldon, in his "court and character of james i," gives a somewhat different account of the closing scene of this tragedy. he says, "franklin and weston came into overbury's chamber, and found him in infinite torment, with contention between the strength of nature and the working of the poison; and it being very like that nature had gotten the better in this contention, by the thrusting out of boils, blotches, and blains, they, fearing it might come to light by the judgment of physicians, the foul play that had been offered him, consented to stifle him with the bedclothes, which accordingly was performed; and so ended his miserable life, with the assurance of the conspirators that he died by the poison; none thinking otherwise than these two murderers." the sudden death--the indecent haste of the funeral, and the non-holding of an inquest upon the body, strengthened the suspicions that were afloat. rumour, instead of whispering, began to speak out; and the relatives of the deceased openly expressed their belief that their kinsman had been murdered. but rochester was still all powerful at court, and no one dared to utter a word to his discredit. shortly afterwards, his marriage with the countess of essex was celebrated with the utmost splendour, the king himself being present at the ceremony. it would seem that overbury's knowledge of james's character was deeper than rochester had given him credit for, and that he had been a true prophet when he predicted that his marriage would eventually estrange james from his minion. at this time, however, rochester stood higher than ever in the royal favour; but it did not last long--conscience, that busy monitor, was at work. the tongue of rumour was never still; and rochester, who had long been a guilty, became at last a wretched man. his cheeks lost their colour--his eyes grew dim; and he became moody, careless, and melancholy. the king seeing him thus, took at length no pleasure in his society, and began to look about for another favourite. george villiers, duke of buckingham, was the man to his mind; quick-witted, handsome, and unscrupulous. the two latter qualities alone were sufficient to recommend him to james i. in proportion as the influence of rochester declined, that of buckingham increased. a falling favourite has no friends; and rumour wagged her tongue against rochester louder and more pertinaciously than ever. a new favourite, too, generally endeavours to hasten by a kick the fall of the old one; and buckingham, anxious to work the complete ruin of his forerunner in the king's good graces, encouraged the relatives of sir thomas overbury to prosecute their inquiries into the strange death of their kinsman. james was rigorous enough in the punishment of offences when he was not himself involved. he piqued himself, moreover, on his dexterity in unravelling mysteries. the affair of sir thomas overbury found him congenial occupation. he set to work by ordering the arrest of sir jervis elwes. james, at this early stage of the proceedings, does not seem to have been aware that rochester was so deeply implicated. struck with horror at the atrocious system of slow poisoning, the king sent for all the judges. according to sir anthony weldon, he knelt down in the midst of them, and said, "my lords the judges, it is lately come to my hearing that you have now in examination a business of poisoning. lord! in what a miserable condition shall this kingdom be (the only famous nation for hospitality in the world) if our tables should become such a snare, as that none could eat without danger of life, and that italian custom should be introduced among us! therefore, my lords, i charge you, as you will answer it at that great and dreadful day of judgment, that you examine it strictly, without layout, affection, or partiality. and if you shall spare any guilty of this crime, god's curse light on you and your posterity! and if i spare any that are guilty, god's curse light on me and my posterity for ever!" the imprecation fell but too surely upon the devoted house of stuart. the solemn oath was broken, and god's curse did light upon him and his posterity! the next person arrested after sir jervis elwes, was weston, the under-keeper; then franklin and mrs. turner; and, lastly, the earl and countess of somerset, to which dignity rochester had been advanced since the death of overbury. weston was first brought to trial. public curiosity was on the stretch. nothing else was talked of, and the court on the day of trial was crowded to suffocation. the "state trials" report, that lord chief justice coke "laid open to the jury the baseness and cowardliness of poisoners, who attempt that secretly against which there is no means of preservation or defence for a man's life; and how rare it was to hear of any poisoning in england, so detestable it was to our nation. but the devil had taught divers to be cunning in it, so that they can poison in what distance of space they please, by consuming the nativum calidum, or humidum radicale, in one month, two or three, or more, as they list, which they four manner of ways do execute; viz. haustu, gustu, odore, and contactu." when the indictment was read over, weston made no other reply than, "lord have mercy upon me! lord have mercy upon me!" on being asked how he would be tried, he refused to throw himself upon a jury of his country, and declared, that he would be tried by god alone. in this he persisted for some time. the fear of the dreadful punishment for contumacy induced him, at length, to plead "not guilty," and take his trial in due course of law. [the punishment for the contumacious was expressed by the words onere, frigore, et fame. by the first was meant that the culprit should be extended on his back on the ground, and weights placed over his body, gradually increased, until he expired. sometimes the punishment was not extended to this length, and the victim, being allowed to recover, underwent the second portion, the frigore, which consisted in his standing naked in the open air, for a certain space, in the sight of all the people. the third, or fame, was more dreadful, the statute saying, "that he was to be preserved with the coarsest bread that could be got, and water out of the next sink or puddle, to the place of execution; and that day he had water he should have no bread, and that day he had bread, he should have no water;" and in this torment he was to linger as long as nature would hold out.] all the circumstances against him were fully proved, and he was found guilty and executed at tyburn. mrs. turner, franklin, and sir jervis elwes were also brought to trial, found guilty, and executed between the th of october and the th of december ; but the grand trial of the earl and countess of somerset did not take place till the month of may following. on the trial of sir jervis elwes, circumstances had transpired, showing a guilty knowledge of the poisoning on the part of the earl of northampton the uncle of lady somerset, and the chief falconer sir thomas monson. the former was dead; but sir thomas monson was arrested, and brought to trial. it appeared, however, that he was too dangerous a man to be brought to the scaffold. he knew too many of the odious secrets of james i, and his dying speech might contain disclosures which would compromise the king. to conceal old guilt it was necessary to incur new: the trial of sir thomas monson was brought to an abrupt conclusion, and himself set at liberty! already james had broken his oath. he now began to fear that he had been rash in engaging so zealously to bring the poisoners to punishment. that somerset would be declared guilty there was no doubt, and that he looked for pardon and impunity was equally evident to the king. somerset, while in the tower, asserted confidently, that james would not dare to bring him to trial. in this he was mistaken; but james was in an agony. what the secret was between them will now never be known with certainty; but it may be surmised. some have imagined it to be the vice to which the king was addicted; while others have asserted, that it related to the death of prince henry, a virtuous young man, who had held somerset in especial abhorrence. the prince died early, unlamented by his father, and, as public opinion whispered at the time, poisoned by somerset. probably, some crime or other lay heavy upon the soul of the king; and somerset, his accomplice, could not be brought to public execution with safety. hence the dreadful tortures of james, when he discovered that his favourite was so deeply implicated in the murder of overbury. every means was taken by the agonized king to bring the prisoner into what was called a safe frame of mind. he was secretly advised to plead guilty, and trust to the clemency of the king. the same advice was conveyed to the countess. bacon was instructed by the king to draw up a paper of all the points of "mercy and favour" to somerset which might result from the evidence; and somerset was again recommended to plead guilty, and promised that no evil should ensue to him. the countess was first tried. she trembled and shed tears during the reading of the indictment, and, in a low voice, pleaded guilty. on being asked why sentence of death should not be passed against her, she replied meekly, "i can much aggravate, but nothing extenuate my fault. i desire mercy, and that the lords will intercede for me with the king." sentence of death was passed upon her. next day the earl was brought to trial. he appears to have mistrusted the promises of james, and he pleaded not guilty. with a self-possession and confidence, which he felt, probably, from his knowledge of the king's character, he rigorously cross-examined the witnesses, and made a stubborn defence. after a trial which lasted eleven hours, he was found guilty, and condemned to the felon's death. whatever may have been the secrets between the criminal and the king, the latter, notwithstanding his terrific oath, was afraid to sign the death-warrant. it might, perchance, have been his own. the earl and countess were committed to the tower, where they remained for nearly five years. at the end of this period, to the surprise and scandal of the community, and the disgrace of its chief magistrate, they both received the royal pardon, but were ordered to reside at a distance from the court. having been found guilty of felony, the estates of the earl had become forfeited; but james granted him out of their revenues an income of , pounds per annum! shamelessness could go no further. of the after life of these criminals nothing is known, except that the love they had formerly borne each other was changed into aversion, and that they lived under the same roof for months together without the interchange of a word. the exposure of their atrocities did not put a stop to the practice of poisoning. on the contrary, as we shall see hereafter, it engendered that insane imitation which is so strange a feature of the human character. james himself is supposed, with great probability, to have fallen a victim to it. in the notes to "harris's life and writings of james i," there is a good deal of information on the subject. the guilt of buckingham, although not fully established, rests upon circumstances of suspicion stronger than have been sufficient to lead hundreds to the scaffold. his motives for committing the crime are stated to have been a desire of revenge for the coldness with which the king, in the latter years of his reign, began to regard him; his fear that james intended to degrade him; and his hope that the great influence he possessed over the mind of the heir-apparent would last through a new reign, if the old one were brought to a close. in the second volume of the "harleian miscellany," there is a tract, entitled the "forerunner of revenge," written by george eglisham, doctor of medicine, and one of the physicians to king james. harris, in quoting it, says that it is full of rancour and prejudice. it is evidently exaggerated; but forms, nevertheless, a link in the chain of evidence. eglisham says:--"the king being sick of an ague, the duke took this opportunity, when all the king's doctors of physic were at dinner, and offered to him a white powder to take, the which he a long time refused; but, overcome with his flattering importunity, he took it in wine, and immediately became worse and worse, falling into many swoonings and pains, and violent fluxes of the belly, so tormented, that his majesty cried out aloud of this white powder, 'would to god i had never taken it?" he then tells us "of the countess of buckingham (the duke's mother) applying the plaister to the king's heart and breast, whereupon he grew faint and short-breathed, and in agony. that the physicians exclaimed, that the king was poisoned; that buckingham commanded them out of the room, and committed one of them close prisoner to his own chamber, and another to be removed from court; and that, after his majesty's death, his body and head swelled above measure; his hair, with the skin of his head, stuck to his pillow, and his nails became loose on his fingers and toes." clarendon, who, by the way, was a partisan of the duke's, gives a totally different account of james's death. he says, "it was occasioned by an ague (after a short indisposition by the gout) which, meeting many humours in a fat unwieldy body of fifty-eight years old, in four or five fits carried him out of the world. after whose death many scandalous and libellous discourses were raised, without the least colour or ground; as appeared upon the strictest and most malicious examination that could be made, long after, in a time of licence, when nobody was afraid of offending majesty, and when prosecuting the highest reproaches and contumelies against the royal family was held very meritorious." notwithstanding this confident declaration, the world will hardly be persuaded that there was not some truth in the rumours that were abroad. the inquiries which were instituted were not strict, as he asserts, and all the unconstitutional influence of the powerful favourite was exerted to defeat them. in the celebrated accusations brought against buckingham by the earl of bristol, the poisoning of king james was placed last on the list, and the pages of history bear evidence of the summary mode in which they were, for the time, got rid of. the man from whom buckingham is said to have procured his poisons was one dr. lamb, a conjuror and empiric, who, besides dealing in poisons, pretended to be a fortune-teller. the popular fury, which broke with comparative harmlessness against his patron, was directed against this man, until he could not appear with safety in the streets of london. his fate was melancholy. walking one day in cheapside, disguised, as he thought, from all observers, he was recognized by some idle boys, who began to hoot and pelt him with rubbish, calling out, "the poisoner! the poisoner! down with the wizard! down with him!" a mob very soon collected, and the doctor took to his heels and ran for his life. he was pursued and seized in wood street, and from thence dragged by the hair through the mire to st. paul's cross; the mob beating him with sticks and stones, and calling out, "kill the wizard! kill the poisoner!" charles i, on hearing of the riot, rode from whitehall to quell it; but he arrived too late to save the victim. every bone in his body was broken, and he was quite dead. charles was excessively indignant, and fined the city six hundred pounds for its inability to deliver up the ringleaders to justice. but it was in italy that poisoning was most prevalent. from a very early period, it seems to have been looked upon in that country as a perfectly justifiable means of getting rid of an enemy. the italians of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries poisoned their opponents with as little compunction as an englishman of the present day brings an action at law against any one who has done him an injury. the writings of contemporary authors inform us that, when la spara and la tophania carried on their infernal trade, ladies put poisonbottles on their dressing-tables as openly, and used them with as little scruple upon others, as modern dames use eau de cologne or lavender-water upon themselves. so powerful is the influence of fashion, it can even cause murder to be regarded as a venial peccadillo. in the memoirs of the last duke of guise, who made a quixotic attempt, in , to seize upon the government of naples, we find some curious particulars relative to the popular feeling with regard to poisoning. a man, named gennaro annese, who, after the short and extraordinary career of masaniello the fisherman, had established himself as a sort of captain-general of the populace, rendered himself so obnoxious to the duke of guise that the adherents of the latter determined to murder him. the captain of the guard, as the duke himself very coolly informs us, was requested to undertake this office. it was suggested to him that the poniard would be the most effectual instrument, but the man turned up his eyes with pious horror at the proposition. he was ready to poison gennaro annese whenever he might be called upon to do so; but to poniard him, he said, would be disgraceful, and unbecoming an officer of the guards! at last poison was agreed upon, and augustino molla, an attorney in the duke's confidence, brought the bottle containing the liquid to show it to his master. the following is the duke's own account:-- "augustino came to me at night, and told me: 'i have brought you something which will free you from gennaro. he deserves death, and it is no great matter after what fashion justice is done upon him. look at this vial, full of clear and beautiful water: in four days' time, it will punish all his treasons. the captain of the guard has undertaken to give it him; and as it has no taste at all, gennaro will suspect nothing.'" the duke further informs us that the dose was duly administered; but that gennaro, fortunately for himself, ate nothing for dinner that day but cabbage dressed with oil, which acting as an antidote, caused him to vomit profusely, and saved his life. he was exceedingly ill for five days, but never suspected that he had been poisoned. in process of time, poison vending became a profitable trade. eleven years after this period, it was carried on at rome to such an extent that the sluggish government was roused to interference. beckmann, in his "history of inventions," and lebret, in his "magazin zum gebrauche der staaten kirche geschichte," or magazine of materials for a history of a state church, relates that, in the year , it was made known to pope alexander vii. that great numbers of young women had avowed in the confessional that they had poisoned their husbands with slow poisons. the catholic clergy, who in general hold the secrets of the confessional so sacred, were shocked and alarmed at the extraordinary prevalence of the crime. although they refrained from revealing the names of the penitents, they conceived themselves bound to apprise the head of the church of the enormities that were practised. it was also the subject of general conversation in rome that young widows were unusually abundant. it was remarked, too, that if any couple lived unhappily together, the husband soon took ill and died. the papal authorities, when once they began to inquire, soon learned that a society of young wives had been formed, and met nightly, for some mysterious purpose, at the house of an old woman named hieronyma spara. this hag was a reputed witch and fortune-teller, and acted as president of the young viragos, several of whom, it was afterwards ascertained, belonged to the first families of rome. in order to have positive evidence of the practices of this female conclave, a lady was employed by the government to seek an interview with them. she dressed herself out in the most magnificent style; and having been amply provided with money, she found but little difficulty, when she had stated her object, of procuring an audience of la spara and her sisterhood. she pretended to be in extreme distress of mind on account of the infidelities and ill-treatment of her husband, and implored la spara to furnish her with a few drops of the wonderful elixir, the efficacy of which in sending cruel husbands to "their last long sleep" was so much vaunted by the ladies of rome. la spara fell into the snare, and sold her some of her "drops," at a price commensurate with the supposed wealth of the purchaser. the liquor thus obtained was subjected to an analysis, and found to be, as was suspected, a slow poison--clear, tasteless, and limpid, like that spoken of by the duke of guise. upon this evidence the house was surrounded by the police, and la spara and her companions taken into custody. la spara, who is described as having been a little, ugly, old woman, was put to the torture, but obstinately refused to confess her guilt. another of the women, named la gratiosa, had less firmness, and laid bare all the secrets of the infernal sisterhood. taking a confession, extorted by anguish on the rack, at its true value (nothing at all), there is still sufficient evidence to warrant posterity in the belief of their guilt. they were found guilty, and condemned, according to their degrees of culpability, to various punishments. la spara, gratiosa, and three young women, who had poisoned their husbands, were hanged together at rome. upwards of thirty women were whipped publicly through the streets; and several, whose high rank screened them from more degrading punishment, were banished from the country, and mulcted in heavy fines. in a few months afterwards, nine women more were hanged for poisoning; and another bevy, including many young and beautiful girls, were whipped half naked through the streets of rome. this severity did not put a stop to the practice, and jealous women and avaricious men, anxious to step into the inheritance of fathers, uncles, or brothers, resorted to poison. as it was quite free from taste, colour, and smell, it was administered without exciting suspicion. the skilful vendors compounded it of different degrees of strength, so that the poisoners had only to say whether they wanted their victims to die in a week, a month, or six months, and they were suited with corresponding doses. the vendors were chiefly women, of whom the most celebrated was a hag, named tophania, who was in this way accessory to the death of upwards of six hundred persons. this woman appears to have been a dealer in poisons from her girlhood, and resided first at palermo and then at naples. that entertaining traveller, father lebat, has given, in his letters from italy, many curious particulars relating to her. when he was at civita vecchia, in , the viceroy of naples discovered that poison was extensively sold in the latter city, and that it went by the name of aqueta, or little-water. on making further inquiry, he ascertained that tophania (who was by this time near seventy years of age, and who seems to have begun her evil courses very soon after the execution of la spara) sent large quantities of it to all parts of italy in small vials, with the inscription "manna of st. nicholas of barri." the tomb of st. nicholas of barri was celebrated throughout italy. a miraculous oil was said to ooze from it, which cured nearly all the maladies that flesh is heir to, provided the recipient made use of it with the due degree of faith. la tophania artfully gave this name to her poison to elude the vigilance of the custom-house officers, who, in common with everybody else, had a pious respect for st. nicholas de barri and his wonderful oil. the poison was similar to that manufactured by la spara. hahnemann the physician, and father of the homoepathic doctrine, writing upon this subject, says it was compounded of arsenical neutral salts, occasioning in the victim a gradual loss of appetite, faintness, gnawing pains in the stomach, loss of strength, and wasting of the lungs. the abbe gagliardi says that a few drops of it were generally poured into tea, chocolate, or soup, and its effects were slow, and almost imperceptible. garelli, physician to the emperor of austria, in a letter to hoffmann, says it was crystallized arsenic, dissolved in a large quantity of water by decoction, with the addition (for some unexplained purpose) of the herb cymbalaria. the neapolitans called it aqua toffnina; and it became notorious all over europe under the name of aqua tophania. although this woman carried on her infamous traffic so extensively, it was extremely difficult to meet with her. she lived in continual dread of discovery. she constantly changed her name and residence; and pretending to be a person of great godliness, resided in monasteries for months together. whenever she was more than usually apprehensive of detection, she sought ecclesiastical protection. she was soon apprised of the search made for her by the viceroy of naples, and, according to her practice, took refuge in a monastery. either the search after her was not very rigid, or her measures were exceedingly well taken; for she contrived to elude the vigilance of the authorities for several years. what is still more extraordinary, as showing the ramifications of her system, her trade was still carried on to as great an extent as before. lebat informs us that she had so great a sympathy for poor wives who hated their husbands and wanted to get rid of them, but could not afford to buy her wonderful aqua, that she made them presents of it. she was not allowed, however, to play at this game for ever; she was at length discovered in a nunnery, and her retreat cut off. the viceroy made several representations to the superior to deliver her up, but without effect. the abbess, supported by the archbishop of the diocese, constantly refused. the public curiosity was in consequence so much excited at the additional importance thus thrust upon the criminal, that thousands of persons visited the nunnery in order to catch a glimpse of her. the patience of the viceroy appears to have been exhausted by these delays. being a man of sense, and not a very zealous catholic, he determined that even the church should not shield a criminal so atrocious. setting the privileges of the nunnery at defiance, he sent a troop of soldiers, who broke over the walls and carried her away vi et armis. the archbishop, cardinal pignatelli, was highly indignant, and threatened to excommunicate and lay the whole city under interdict. all the inferior clergy, animated by the esprit du corps, took up the question, and so worked upon the superstitious and bigoted people, that they were ready to rise in a mass to storm the palace of the viceroy and rescue the prisoner. these were serious difficulties; but the viceroy was not a man to be daunted. indeed, he seems to have acted throughout with a rare union of astuteness, coolness, and energy. to avoid the evil consequences of the threatened excommunication, he placed a guard round the palace of the archbishop, judging that the latter would not be so foolish as to launch out an anathema which would cause the city to be starved, and himself in it. the marketpeople would not have dared to come to the city with provisions, so long as it remained under the ban. there would have been too much inconvenience to himself and his ghostly brethren in such a measure; and, as the viceroy anticipated, the good cardinal reserved his thunders for some other occasion. still there was the populace. to quiet their clamour and avert the impending insurrection, the agents of the government adroitly mingled with the people, and spread abroad a report that tophania had poisoned all the wells and fountains of the city. this was enough. the popular feeling turned against her immediately. those who, but a moment before, had looked upon her as a saint, now reviled her as a devil, and were as eager for her punishment as they had before been for her escape. tophania was then put to the torture. she confessed the long catalogue of her crimes, and named all the persons who had employed her. she was shortly afterwards strangled, and her corpse thrown over the wall into the garden of the convent, from whence she had been taken. this appears to have been done to conciliate the clergy, by allowing them, at least, the burial of one who had taken refuge within their precincts. after her death the mania for poisoning seems to have abated; but we have yet to see what hold it took upon the french people at a somewhat earlier period. so rooted had it become in france between the years and , that madame de sevigne, in one of her letters, expresses her fear that frenchman and poisoner would become synonymous terms. as in italy, the first notice the government received of the prevalence of this crime was given by the clergy, to whom females of high rank, and some among the middle and lower classes, had avowed in the confessional that they had poisoned their husbands. in consequence of these disclosures, two italians, named exili and glaser, were arrested, and thrown into the bastille, on the charge of compounding and selling the drugs used for these murders. glaser died in prison, but exili remained without trial for several months; and there, shortly afterwards, he made the acquaintance of another prisoner, named sainte croix, by whose example the crime was still further disseminated among the french people. the most notorious of the poisoners that derived their pernicious knowledge from this man was madame de brinvilliers, a young woman connected both by birth and marriage with some of the noblest families of france. she seems, from her very earliest years, to have been heartless and depraved; and, if we may believe her own confession, was steeped in wickedness ere she had well entered her teens. she was, however, beautiful and accomplished; and, in the eye of the world, seemed exemplary and kind. guyot de pitaval, in the "causes celebres," and madame de sevigne, in her letters, represent her as mild and agreeable in her manners, and offering no traces on her countenance of the evil soul within. she was married in to the marquis de brinvilliers, with whom she lived unhappily for some years. he was a loose dissipated character, and was the means of introducing sainte croix to his wife, a man who cast a blight upon her life, and dragged her on from crime to crime till her offences became so great that the mind shudders to dwell upon them. for this man she conceived a guilty passion, to gratify which she plunged at once into the gulf of sin. she was drawn to its most loathsome depths ere retribution overtook her. she had as yet shown a fair outside to the world, and found but little difficulty in effecting a legal separation from her husband, who had not the art to conceal his vices. the proceeding gave great offence to her family. she appears, after this, to have thrown off the mask completely, and carried on her intrigues so openly with her lover, sainte croix, that her father, m. d'aubray, scandalised at her conduct, procured a lettre de cachet, and had him imprisoned in the bastille for a twelvemonth. sainte croix, who had been in italy, was a dabbler in poisons. he knew something of the secrets of the detestable la spara, and improved himself in them from the instructions of exili, with whom he speedily contracted a sort of friendship. by him he was shown how to prepare, not only the liquid poisons employed in italy, but that known as succession powder, which afterwards became so celebrated in france. like his mistress, he appeared amiable, witty, and intelligent, and showed no signs to the world of the two fierce passions, revenge and avarice, which were gnawing at his heart. both these passions were to be sated on the unfortunate family of d'aubray; his revenge, because they had imprisoned him; and his avarice, because they were rich. reckless and extravagant, he was always in want of money, and he had no one to supply him but madame de brinvilliers, whose own portion was far from sufficient to satisfy his need. groaning to think that any impediment should stand between him and wealth, he conceived the horrid idea of poisoning m. d'aubray her father, and her two brothers, that she might inherit the property. three murders were nothing to such a villain. he communicated his plan to madame de brinvilliers; and she, without the slightest scruple, agreed to aid him: he undertook to compound the poisons, and she to administer them. the zeal and alacrity with which she set to work seem hardly credible. sainte croix found her an apt scholar; and she soon became as expert as himself in the manufacture of poisons. to try the strength of the first doses, she used to administer them to dogs, rabbits, and pigeons. afterwards, wishing to be more certain of their effects, she went round to the hospitals, and administered them to the sick poor in the soups which she brought in apparent charity. [this is denied by voltaire in his "age of louis xiv;" but he does not state for what reason. his words are, "il est faux qu'elle eut essaye ses poisons dans les hopitaux, comme le disait le peuple et comme il est ecrit dans les 'causes celebres,' ouvrage d'un avocat sans cause et fait pour le peuple."] none of the poisons were intended to kill at the first dose; so that she could try them once upon an individual without fear of murder. she tried the same atrocious experiment upon the guests at her father's table, by poisoning a pigeon-pie! to be more certain still, she next poisoned herself! when convinced by this desperate essay of the potency of the draught, she procured an antidote from sainte croix, and all doubts being removed, commenced operations upon her grey-headed father. she administered the first dose with her own hands, in his chocolate. the poison worked well. the old man was taken ill, and his daughter, apparently full of tenderness and anxiety, watched by his bedside. the next day she gave him some broth, which she recommended as highly nourishing. this also was poisoned. in this manner she gradually wore out his frame, and in less than ten days he was a corpse! his death seemed so much the result of disease, that no suspicions were excited. when the two brothers arrived from the provinces to render the last sad duties to their sire, they found their sister as grieved, to all outward appearance, as even filial affection could desire: but the young men only came to perish. they stood between sainte croix and the already half-clutched gold, and their doom was sealed. a man, named la chaussee, was hired by sainte croix to aid in administering the poisons; and, in less than six weeks' time, they had both gone to their long home. suspicion was now excited; but so cautiously had all been done, that it found no one upon whom to attach itself. the marquise had a sister, and she was entitled, by the death of her relatives, to half the property. less than the whole would not satisfy sainte croix, and he determined that she should die the same death as her father and brothers. she was too distrustful, however; and, by quitting paris, she escaped the destruction that was lurking for her. the marquise had undertaken these murders to please her lover. she was now anxious to perpetrate another on her own account. she wished to marry sainte croix; but, though separated from her husband, she was not divorced. she thought it would be easier to poison him than to apply to the tribunals for a divorce, which might, perhaps, be refused. but salute croix had no longer any love for his guilty instrument. bad men do not admire others who are as bad as themselves. though a villain himself, he had no desire to marry one, and was not at all anxious for the death of the marquis. he seemed, however, to enter into the plot, and supplied her with poison for her husband: but he took care to provide a remedy. la brinvilliers poisoned him one day, and sainte croix gave him an antidote the next. in this manner he was buffetted about between them for some time, and finally escaped with a ruined constitution and a broken heart. but the day of retribution was at hand, and a terrible mischance brought the murders to light. the nature of the poisons compounded by salute croix was so deadly, that, when working in his laboratory, he was obliged to wear a mask, to preserve himself from suffocation. one day, the mask slipped off, and the miserable wretch perished in his crimes. his corpse was found, on the following morning, in the obscure lodging where he had fitted up his laboratory. as he appeared to be without friends or relatives, the police took possession of his effects. among other things was found a small box, to which was affixed the following singular document:-- "i humbly beg, that those into whose hands this box may fall, will do me the favour to deliver it into the hands only of the marchioness de brinvilliers, who resides in the rue neuve st. paul, as everything it contains concerns her, and belongs to her alone; and as, besides, there is nothing in it that can be of use to any person but her. in case she shall be dead before me, it is my wish that it be burned, with everything it contains, without opening or altering anything. in order that no one may plead ignorance, i swear by the god that i adore, and by all that is held most sacred, that i assert nothing but the truth: and if my intentions, just and reasonable as they are, be thwarted in this point by any persons, i charge their consciences with it, both in this world and that which is to come, in order that i may unload mine. i protest that this is my last will. done at paris, the th of may, . "(signed) sainte croix." this earnest solicitation, instead of insuring respect as was intended, excited curiosity. the box was opened, and found to contain some papers, and several vials and powders. the latter were handed to a chemist for analysis, and the documents were retained by the police, and opened. among them was found a promissory note of the marchioness de brinvilliers, for thirty thousand francs, to the order of sainte croix. the other papers were of greater importance, as they implicated both her and her servant, la chaussee, in the recent murders. as soon as she was informed of the death of sainte croix, she made an attempt to gain possession of his papers and the box; but, being refused, she saw that there was no time to be lost, and immediately quitted. next morning the police were on her trail; but she succeeded in escaping to england. la chaussee was not so fortunate. altogether ignorant of the fatal mischance which had brought his villanies to light, he did not dream of danger. he was arrested and brought to trial: being put to the torture, he confessed that he had administered poison to the messieurs d'aubray, and that he had received a hundred pistoles, and the promise of an annuity for life, from sainte croix and madame de brinvilliers, for the job. he was condemned to be broken alive on the wheel, and the marchioness was, by default, sentenced to be beheaded. he was executed accordingly, in march , on the place de greve, in paris. la brinvilliers appears to have resided for nearly three years in england. early in , thinking that the rigour of pursuit was over, and that she might venture to return to the continent, she proceeded secretly to liege. notwithstanding her care, the french authorities were soon apprised of her return; and arrangements were promptly made with the municipality of that city, to permit the agents of the french police to arrest her within the limits of their jurisdiction. desgrais, an officer of the marechaussee, accordingly left paris for that purpose. on his arrival in liege, he found that she had sought shelter within the walls of a convent. here the arm of the law, long as it is said to be, could not reach her: but desgrais was not a man to be baffled, and he resorted to stratagem to accomplish what force could not. having disguised himself as a priest, he sought admission to the convent, and obtained an interview with la brinvilliers. he said, that being a frenchman, and passing through liege, he could not leave that city without paying a visit to a lady whose beauty and misfortunes were so celebrated. her vanity was flattered by the compliment. desgrais saw, to use a vulgar but forcible expression, "that he had got on the blind side of her;" and he adroitly continued to pour out the language of love and admiration, till the deluded marchioness was thrown completely off her guard. she agreed, without much solicitation, to meet him outside the walls of the convent, where their amorous intrigue might be carried on more conveniently than within. faithful to her appointment with her supposed new lover, she came, and found herself, not in the embrace of a gallant, but in the custody of a policeman. her trial was not long delayed. the proofs against her were abundant. the dying declaration of la chaussee would have been alone enough to convict her; but besides that, there were the mysterious document attached to the box of st. croix; her flight from france; and, stronger and more damning proof than all, a paper, in her own handwriting, found among the effects of st. croix, in which she detailed to him the misdeeds of her life, and spoke of the murder of her father and brothers, in terms that left no doubt of her guilt. during the trial, all paris was in commotion. la brinvilliers was the only subject of conversation. all the details of her crimes were published, and greedily devoured; and the idea of secret poisoning was first put into the heads of hundreds, who afterwards became guilty of it. on the th of july , the superior criminal court of paris pronounced a verdict of guilty against her, for the murder of her father and brothers, and the attempt upon the life of her sister. she was condemned to be drawn on a hurdle, with her feet bare, a rope about her neck, and a burning torch in her hand, to the great entrance of the cathedral of notre dame; where she was to make the amende honorable, in sight of all the people; to be taken from thence to the place de greve, and there to be beheaded. her body was afterwards to be burned, and her ashes scattered to the winds. after her sentence, she made a full confession of her guilt. she seems to have looked upon death without fear; but it was recklessness, not courage, that supported her. madame de sevigne says, that when on the hurdle, on her way to the scaffold, she entreated her confessor to exert his influence with the executioner to place himself next to her, that his body might hide from her view "that scoundrel, desgrais, who had entrapped her." she also asked the ladies, who had been drawn to their windows to witness the procession, what they were looking at? adding, "a pretty sight you have come to see, truly!" she laughed when on the scaffold, dying as she had lived, impenitent and heartless. on the morrow, the populace came in crowds to collect her ashes, to preserve them as relics. she was regarded as a martyred saint, and her ashes were supposed to be endowed, by divine grace, with the power of curing all diseases. popular folly has often canonised persons whose pretensions to sanctity were extremely equivocal; but the disgusting folly of the multitude, in this instance, has never been surpassed. before her death, proceedings were instituted against m. de penautier, treasurer of the province of languedoc, and receiver-general for the clergy, who was accused by a lady, named st. laurent, of having poisoned her husband, the late receiver-general, in order to obtain his appointment. the circumstances of this case were never divulged, and the greatest influence was exerted to prevent it from going to trial. he was known to have been intimate with sainte croix and madame de brinvilliers, and was thought to have procured his poisons from them. the latter, however, refused to say anything which might implicate him. the inquiry was eventually stifled, after penautier had been several months in the bastille. the cardinal de bonzy was accused by the gossips of the day of being an accomplice of penautier. the cardinal's estates were burthened with the payment of several heavy annuities; but, about the time that poisoning became so fashionable, all the annuitants died off, one after the other. the cardinal, in talking of these annuitants, afterwards used to say, "thanks to my star, i have outlived them all!" a wit, seeing him and penautier riding in the same carriage, cried out, in allusion to this expression, "there go the cardinal de bonzy and his star!" it was now that the mania for poisoning began to take hold of the popular mind. from this time until the year , the prisons of france teemed with persons accused of this crime; and it is very singular, that other offences decreased in a similar proportion. we have already seen the extent to which it was carried in italy. it was, if possible, surpassed in france. the diabolical ease with which these murders could be effected, by means of these scentless and tasteless poisons, enticed the evil-minded. jealousy, revenge, avarice, even petty spite, alike resorted to them. those who would have been deterred, by fear of detection, from using the pistol or the dagger, or even strong doses of poison, which kill at once, employed slow poisons without dread. the corrupt government of the day, although it could wink at the atrocities of a wealthy and influential courtier, like penautier, was scandalised to see the crime spreading among the people. disgrace was, in fact, entailed, in the eyes of europe, upon the name of frenchman. louis xiv, to put a stop to the evil, instituted what was called the chambre ardente, or burning chamber, with extensive powers, for the trial and punishment of the prisoners. two women, especially, made themselves notorious at this time, and were instrumental to the deaths of hundreds of individuals. they both resided in paris, and were named lavoisin and lavigoreux. like spars and tophania, of whom they were imitators, they chiefly sold their poisons to women who wanted to get rid of their husbands; and, in some few instances, to husbands who wanted to get rid of their wives. their ostensible occupation was that of midwives. they also pretended to be fortune-tellers, and were visited by persons of every class of society. the rich and poor thronged alike to their mansardes, to learn the secrets of the future. their prophecies were principally of death. they foretold to women the approaching dissolution of husbands, and to needy heirs, the end of rich relatives, who had made them, as byron expresses it, "wait too, too long already." they generally took care to be instrumental in fulfilling their own predictions. they used to tell their wretched employers, that some sign of the approaching death would take place in the house, such as the breaking of glass or china; and they paid servants considerable fees to cause a breakage, as if by accident, exactly at the appointed time. their occupation as midwives made them acquainted with the secrets of many families, which they afterwards turned to dreadful account. it is not known how long they had carried on this awful trade before they were discovered. detection finally overtook them at the close of the year . they were both tried, found guilty, and burned alive on the place de greve, on the nd of february, , after their hands had been bored through with a red-hot iron, and then cut off. their numerous accomplices in paris and in the provinces were also discovered and brought to trial. according to some authors, thirty, and to others, fifty of them, chiefly women, were hanged in the principal cities. lavoisin kept a list of the visiters who came to her house to purchase poisons. this paper was seized by the police on her arrest, and examined by the tribunals. among the names were found those of the marshal de luxembourg, the countess de soissons, and the duchess de bouillon. the marshal seems only to have been guilty of a piece of discreditable folly in visiting a woman of this description, but the popular voice at the time imputed to him something more than folly. the author of the "memoirs of the affairs of europe since the peace of utrecht," says, "the miserable gang who dealt in poison and prophecy alleged that he had sold himself to the devil, and that a young girl of the name of dupin had been poisoned by his means. among other stories, they said he had made a contract with the devil, in order to marry his son to the daughter of the marquis of louvois. to this atrocious and absurd accusation the marshal, who had surrendered himself at the bastille on the first accusation against him, replied with the mingled sentiment of pride and innocence, 'when mathieu de montmorenci, my ancestor, married the widow of louis le gros, he did not have recourse to the devil, but to the states-general, in order to obtain for the minor king the support of the house of montmorenci.' this brave man was imprisoned in a cell six feet and a half long, and his trial, which was interrupted for several weeks, lasted altogether fourteen months. no judgment was pronounced upon him." the countess of soissons fled to brussels, rather than undergo the risk of a trial; and was never able to clear herself from the stigma that attached to her, of having made an attempt to poison the queen of spain by doses of succession powder. the duchess of bouillon was arrested, and tried by the chambre ardente. it would appear, however, that she had nothing to do with the slow poisons, but had merely endeavoured to pry into the secrets of futurity, and gratify her curiosity with a sight of the devil. one of the presidents of the chambre, la reynie, an ugly little old man, very seriously asked her whether she had really seen the devil; to which the lady replied, looking him full in the face, "oh yes! i see him now. he is in the form of a little ugly old man, exceedingly illnatured, and is dressed in the robes of a counsellor of state." m. la reynie prudently refrained from asking any more questions of a lady with so sharp and ready a tongue. the duchess was imprisoned for several months in the bastile; and nothing being proved against her, she was released at the intercession of her powerful friends. the severe punishment of criminals of this note might have helped to abate the fever of imitation among the vulgar;--their comparative impunity had a contrary tendency. the escape of penautier, and the wealthy cardinal de bonzy his employer, had the most pernicious effect. for two years longer the crime continued to rage, and was not finally suppressed till the stake had blazed, or the noose dangled, for upwards of a hundred individuals. haunted houses. here's a knocking indeed! * * * * knock! knock! knock * * * * * * who's there, i' the name o' beelzebub? * * * who's there, i' the devil's name? knock! knock! knock!--never at quiet? macbeth. who has not either seen or heard of some house, shut up and uninhabitable, fallen into decay, and looking dusty and dreary, from which, at midnight, strange sounds have been heard to issue--aerial knockings--the rattling of chains, and the groaning of perturbed spirits?--a house that people have thought it unsafe to pass after dark, and which has remained for years without a tenant, and which no tenant would occupy, even were he paid to do so? there are hundreds of such houses in england at the present day; hundreds in france, germany, and almost every country of europe, which are marked with the mark of fear--places for the timid to avoid, and the pious to bless themselves at, and ask protection from, as they pass--the abodes of ghosts and evil spirits. there are many such houses in london; and if any vain boaster of the march of intellect would but take the trouble to find them out and count them, he would be convinced that intellect must yet make some enormous strides before such old superstitions can be eradicated. the idea that such houses exist is a remnant of the witch creed, which merits separate notice from its comparative harmlessness, and from its being not so much a madness as a folly of the people. unlike other notions that sprang from the belief in witchcraft, and which we have already dwelt upon at sufficient length, it has sent no wretches to the stake or the gibbet, and but a few to the pillory only. many houses have been condemned as haunted, and avoided by the weak and credulous, from circumstances the most trifling in themselves, and which only wanted a vigorous mind to clear up, at once, and dissipate all alarm. a house in aix-la-chapelle, a large desolate-looking building, remained uninhabited for five years, on account of the mysterious knockings that there were heard within it at all hours of the day and night. nobody could account for the noises; and the fear became at last so excessive, that the persons who inhabited the houses on either side relinquished their tenancy, and went to reside in other quarters of the town, where there was less chance of interruption from evil spirits. from being so long without an inhabitant the house at last grew so ruinous, so dingy, and so miserable in its outward appearance, and so like the place that ghosts might be supposed to haunt, that few persons cared to go past it after sunset. the knocking that was heard in one of the upper rooms was not very loud, but it was very regular. the gossips of the neighbourhood asserted that they often heard groans from the cellars, and saw lights moved about from one window to another immediately after the midnight bell had tolled. spectres in white habiliments were reported to have gibed and chattered from the windows; but all these stories could bear no investigation. the knocking, however, was a fact which no one could dispute, and several ineffectual attempts were made by the proprietor to discover the cause. the rooms were sprinkled with holy water--the evil spirits were commanded in due form, by a priest, to depart thence to the red sea; but the knockings still continued, in spite of all that could be done in that way. accident at last discovered the cause, and restored tranquillity to the neighbourhood. the proprietor, who suffered not only in his mind but in his pocket, had sold the building at a ruinously small price, to get rid of all future annoyance. the new proprietor was standing in a room on the first floor when he heard the door driven to at the bottom with a considerable noise, and then fly open immediately, about two inches and no more. he stood still a minute and watched, and the same thing occurred a second and a third time. he examined the door attentively, and all the mystery was unravelled. the latch of the door was broken so that it could not be fastened, and it swung chiefly upon the bottom hinge. immediately opposite was a window, in which one pane of glass was broken; and when the wind was in a certain quarter, the draught of air was so strong that it blew the door to with some violence. there being no latch, it swung open again; and when there was a fresh gust, was again blown to. the new proprietor lost no time in sending for a glazier, and the mysterious noises ceased for ever. the house was replastered and repainted, and once more regained its lost good name. it was not before two or three years, however, that it was thoroughly established in popular favour; and many persons, even then, would always avoid passing it, if they could reach their destination by any other street. a similar story is narrated by sir walter scott, in his letters on demonology and witchcraft, the hero of which was a gentleman of birth and distinction, well known in the political world. shortly after he succeeded to his title and estates, there was a rumour among the servants concerning a strange noise that used to be heard at night in the family mansion, and the cause of which no one could ascertain. the gentleman resolved to discover it himself, and to watch for that purpose with a domestic who had grown old in the family, and who, like the rest, had whispered strange things about the knocking having begun immediately upon the death of his old master. these two watched until the noise was heard, and at last traced it to a small store-room, used as a place for keeping provisions of various kinds for the family, and of which the old butler had the key. they entered this place, and remained for some time, without hearing the noises which they had traced thither. at length the sound was heard, but much lower than it seemed to be while they were further off, and their imaginations were more excited. they then discovered the cause without difficulty. a rat, caught in an old-fashioned trap, had occasioned the noise by its efforts to escape, in which it was able to raise the trap-door of its prison to a certain height, but was then obliged to drop it. the noise of the fall resounding through the house had occasioned the mysterious rumours, which, but for the investigation of the proprietor, would, in all probability, have acquired so bad a name for the dwelling that no servants would have inhabited it. the circumstance was told to sir walter scott by the gentleman to whom it happened. but, in general, houses that have acquired this character, have been more indebted for it, to the roguery of living men, than to accidents like these. six monks played off a clever trick of the kind upon that worthy king, louis, whose piety has procured him, in the annals of his own country, the designation of "the saint." having heard his confessor speak in terms of warm eulogy of the goodness and learning of the monks of the order of saint bruno, he expressed his wish to establish a community of them near paris. bernard de la tour, the superior, sent six of the brethren, and the king gave them a handsome house to live in, in the village of chantilly. it so happened that, from their windows, they had a very fine view of the ancient palace of vauvert, which had been built for a royal residence by king robert, but deserted for many years. the worthy monks thought the palace would just suit them, but their modesty was so excessive that they were ashamed to ask the king for a grant of it in due form. this difficulty was not to be overcome, and the monks set their ingenuity to work to discover another plan. the palace of vauvert had never laboured under any imputation upon its character until they became its neighbours; but, somehow or other, it almost immediately afterwards began to acquire a bad name. frightful shrieks were heard to proceed from it at night--blue, red, and green lights were suddenly observed to glimmer from the windows, and as suddenly to disappear: the clanking of chains was heard, and the howling as of persons in great pain. these disturbances continued for several months, to the great terror of all the country round, and even of the pious king louis, to whom, at paris, all the rumours were regularly carried, with whole heaps of additions, that accumulated on the way. at last a great spectre, clothed all in pea-green, with a long white beard and a serpent's tail, took his station regularly at midnight in the principal window of the palace, and howled fearfully and shook his fists at the passengers. the six monks of chantilly, to whom all these things were duly narrated, were exceedingly wroth that the devil should play such antics right opposite their dwelling, and hinted to the commissioners, sent down by saint louis to investigate the matter, that, if they were allowed to inhabit the palace, they would very soon make a clearance of the evil spirits. the king was quite charmed with their piety, and expressed to them how grateful he felt for their disinterestedness. a deed was forthwith drawn up--the royal sign-manual was affixed to it, and the palace of vauvert became the property of the monks of saint bruno. the deed is dated in . [garinet. histoire de la magie en france, page .] the disturbances ceased immediately--the lights disappeared, and the green ghost (so said the monks) was laid at rest for ever under the waves of the red sea. in the year , one gilles blacre had taken the lease of a house in the suburbs of tours, but repenting him of his bargain with the landlord, peter piquet, he endeavoured to prevail upon him to cancel the agreement. peter, however, was satisfied with his tenant and his terms, and would listen to no compromise. very shortly afterwards, the rumour was spread all over tours that the house of gilles blacre was haunted. gilles himself asserted that he verily believed his house to be the general rendezvous of all the witches and evil spirits of france. the noise they made was awful, and quite prevented him from sleeping. they knocked against the wall--howled in the chimneys--broke his window-glass--scattered his pots and pans all over his kitchen, and set his chairs and tables a dancing the whole night through. crowds of persons assembled around the house to hear the mysterious noises; and the bricks were observed to detach themselves from the wall and fall into the streets upon the heads of those who had not said their paternoster before they came out in the morning. these things having continued for some time, gilles blacre made his complaint to the civil court of tours, and peter piquet was summoned to show cause why the lease should not be annulled. poor peter could make no defence, and the court unanimously agreed that no lease could hold good under such circumstances, and annulled it accordingly, condemning the unlucky owner to all the expenses of the suit. peter appealed to the parliament of paris; and, after a long examination, the parliament confirmed the lease. "not," said the judge, "because it has not been fully and satisfactorily proved that the house is troubled by evil spirits, but that there was an informality in the proceedings before the civil court of tours, that rendered its decision null and of no effect." a similar cause was tried before the parliament of bordeaux, in the year , relative to a house in that city which was sorely troubled by evil spirits. the parliament appointed certain ecclesiastics to examine and report to them, and on their report in the affirmative that the house was haunted, the lease was annulled, and the tenant absolved from all payment of rent and taxes. [garinet. histoire de la magie en france, page .] one of the best stories of a haunted house is that of the royal palace of woodstock, in the year , when the commissioners sent from london by the long parliament to take possession of it, and efface all the emblems of royalty about it, were fairly driven out by their fear of the devil and the annoyances they suffered from a roguish cavalier, who played the imp to admiration. the commissioners, dreading at that time no devil, arrived at woodstock on the th of october, . they took up their lodgings in the late king's apartments-turned the beautiful bedrooms and withdrawing-rooms into kitchens and sculleries--the council-hall into a brew-house, and made the dining-room a place to keep firewood in. they pulled down all the insignia of royal state, and treated with the utmost indignity everything that recalled to their memory the name or the majesty of charles stuart. one giles sharp accompanied them in the capacity of clerk, and seconded their efforts, apparently with the greatest zeal. he aided them to uproot a noble old tree, merely because it was called the king's oak, and tossed the fragments into the dining-room to make cheerful fires for the commissioners. during the first two days, they heard some strange noises about the house, but they paid no great attention to them. on the third, however, they began to suspect they had got into bad company; for they heard, as they thought, a supernatural dog under their bed, which gnawed their bedclothes. on the next day, the chairs and tables began to dance, apparently of their own accord. on the fifth day, something came into the bedchamber and walked up and down, and fetching the warming-pan out of the withdrawing-room, made so much noise with it that they thought five church-bells were ringing in their ears. on the sixth day, the plates and dishes were thrown up and down the dining-room. on the seventh, they penetrated into the bedroom in company with several logs of wood, and usurped the soft pillows intended for the commissioners. on the eighth and ninth nights, there was a cessation of hostilities; but on the tenth, the bricks in the chimneys became locomotive, and rattled and danced about the floors, and round the heads of the commissioners, all the night long. on the eleventh, the demon ran away with their breeches, and on the twelfth filled their beds so full of pewter-platters that they could not get into them. on the thirteenth night, the glass became unaccountably seized with a fit of cracking, and fell into shivers in all parts of the house. on the fourteenth, there was a noise as if forty pieces of artillery had been fired off, and a shower of pebble-stones, which so alarmed the commissioners that, "struck with great horror, they cried out to one another for help." they first of all tried the efficacy of prayers to drive away the evil spirits; but these proving unavailing, they began seriously to reflect whether it would not be much better to leave the place altogether to the devils that inhabited it. they ultimately resolved, however, to try it a little longer; and having craved forgiveness of all their sins, betook themselves to bed. that night they slept in tolerable comfort, but it was merely a trick of their tormentor to lull them into false security. when, on the succeeding night, they heard no noises, they began to flatter themselves that the devil was driven out, and prepared accordingly to take up their quarters for the whole winter in the palace. these symptoms on their part became the signal for renewed uproar among the fiends. on the st of november, they heard something walking with a slow and solemn pace up and down the withdrawing-room, and immediately afterwards a shower of stones, bricks, mortar, and broken glass pelted about their ears. on the nd the steps were again heard in the withdrawing-room, sounding to their fancy very much like the treading of an enormous bear, which continued for about a quarter of an hour. this noise having ceased, a large warming-pan was thrown violently upon the table, followed by a number of stones and the jawbone of a horse. some of the boldest walked valiantly into the withdrawing-room, armed with swords, and pistols; but could discover nothing. they were afraid that night to go to sleep, and sat up, making fires in every room, and burning candles and lamps in great abundance; thinking that, as the fiends loved darkness, they would not disturb a company surrounded with so much light. they were deceived, however: buckets of water came down the chimneys and extinguished the fires, and the candles were blown out, they knew not how. some of the servants who had betaken themselves to bed were drenched with putrid ditch-water as they lay, and arose in great fright, muttering incoherent prayers, and exposing to the wondering eyes of the commissioners their linen all dripping with green moisture, and their knuckles red with the blows they had at the same time received from some invisible tormentors. while they were still speaking, there was a noise like the loudest thunder, or the firing of a whole park of artillery, upon which they all fell down upon their knees and implored the protection of the almighty. one of the commissioners then arose, the others still kneeling, and asked in a courageous voice, and in the name of god, who was there, and what they had done that they should be troubled in that manner. no answer was returned, and the noises ceased for a while. at length, however, as the commissioners said, "the devil came again, and brought with it seven devils worse than itself." being again in darkness, they lighted a candle and placed it in the doorway, that it might throw a light upon the two chambers at once; but it was suddenly blown out, and one commissioner said that he had "seen the similitude of a horse's hoof striking the candle and candlestick into the middle of the chamber, and afterwards making three scrapes on the snuff to put it out." upon this, the same person was so bold as to draw his sword; but he asserted positively that he had hardly withdrawn it from the scabbard before an invisible hand seized hold of it and tugged with him for it, and prevailing, struck him so violent a blow with the pommel that he was quite stunned. then the noises began again; upon which, with one accord, they all retired into the presence-chamber, where they passed the night, praying and singing psalms. they were by this time convinced that it was useless to struggle any longer with the powers of evil, that seemed determined to make woodstock their own. these things happened on the saturday night; and, being repeated on the sunday, they determined to leave the place immediately, and return to london. by tuesday morning early, all their preparations were completed; and, shaking the dust off their feet, and devoting woodstock and all its inhabitants to the infernal gods, they finally took their departure. [dr. h. more's continuation of glanvil's collection of relations in proof of witchcraft.] many years elapsed before the true cause of these disturbances was discovered. it was ascertained, at the restoration, that the whole was the work of giles sharp, the trusty clerk of the commissioners. this man, whose real name was joseph collins, was a concealed royalist, and had passed his early life within the bowers of woodstock; so that he knew every hole and corner of the place, and the numerous trap-doors and secret passages that abounded in the building. the commissioners, never suspecting the true state of his opinions, but believing him to be revolutionary to the back-bone, placed the utmost reliance upon him; a confidence which he abused in the manner above detailed, to his own great amusement, and that of the few cavaliers whom he let into the secret. quite as extraordinary and as cleverly managed was the trick played off at tedworth, in , at the house of mr. mompesson, and which is so circumstantially narrated by the rev. joseph glanvil, under the title of "the demon of tedworth," and appended, among other proofs of witchcraft, to his noted work, called "sadducismus triumphatus." about the middle of april, in the year above mentioned, mr. mompesson, having returned to his house, at tedworth, from a journey he had taken to london, was informed by his wife, that during his absence they had been troubled with the most extraordinary noises. three nights afterwards he heard the noise himself; and it appeared to him to be that of "a great knocking at his doors, and on the outside of his walls." he immediately arose, dressed himself, took down a pair of pistols, and walked valiantly forth to discover the disturber, under the impression that it must be a robber: but, as he went, the noise seemed to travel before or behind him; and, when he arrived at the door from which he thought it proceeded, he saw nothing, but still heard "a strange hollow sound." he puzzled his brains for a long time, and searched every corner of the house; but, discovering nothing, he went to bed again. he was no sooner snug under the clothes, than the noise began again more furiously than ever, sounding very much like a "thumping and drumming on the top of his house, and then by degrees going off into the air." these things continued for several nights, when it came to the recollection of mr. mompesson that some time before, he had given orders for the arrest and imprisonment of a wandering drummer, who went about the country with a large drum, disturbing quiet people and soliciting alms, and that he had detained the man's drum, and that, probably, the drummer was a wizard, and had sent evil spirits to haunt his house, to be revenged of him. he became strengthened in his opinion every day, especially when the noises assumed, to his fancy, a resemblance to the beating of a drum, "like that at the breaking up of a guard." mrs. mompesson being brought to bed, the devil, or the drummer, very kindly and considerately refrained from making the usual riot; but, as soon as she recovered strength, began again "in a ruder manner than before, following and vexing the young children, and beating their bedsteads with so much violence that every one expected they would fall in pieces." for an hour together, as the worthy mr. mompesson repeated to his wondering neighbours, this infernal drummer "would beat 'roundheads and cuckolds,' the 'tat-too,' and several other points of war, as cleverly as any soldier." when this had lasted long enough, he changed his tactics, and scratched with his iron talons under the children's bed. "on the th of november," says the rev. joseph glanvil, "it made a mighty noise; and a servant, observing two boards in the children's room seeming to move, he bid it give him one of them. upon which the board came (nothing moving it, that he saw), within a yard of him. the man added, 'nay, let me have it in my hand;' upon which the spirit, devil, or drummer pushed it towards him so close, that he might touch it. "this," continues glanvil, "was in the day-time, and was seen by a whole room full of people. that morning it left a sulphureous smell behind it, which was very offensive. at night the minister, one mr. cragg, and several of the neighhours, came to the house, on a visit. mr. cragg went to prayers with them, kneeling at the children's bedside, where it then became very troublesome and loud. during prayer time, the spirit withdrew into the cock-loft, but returned as soon as prayers were done; and then, in sight of the company, the chairs walked about the room of themselves, the children's shoes were hurled over their heads, and every loose thing moved about the chamber. at the same time, a bed-staff was thrown at the minister, which hit him on the leg, but so favourably, that a lock of wool could not have fallen more softly." on another occasion, the blacksmith of the village, a fellow who cared neither for ghost nor devil, slept with john, the footman, that he also might hear the disturbances, and be cured of his incredulity, when there "came a noise in the room, as if one had been shoeing a horse, and somewhat came, as it were, with a pair of pincers," snipping and snapping at the poor blacksmith's nose the greater part of the night. next day it came, panting like a dog out of breath; upon which some woman present took a bed-staff to knock at it, "which was caught suddenly out of her hand, and thrown away; and company coming up, the room was presently filled with a bloomy noisome smell, and was very hot, though without fire, in a very sharp and severe winter. it continued in the bed, panting and scratching for an hour and a half, and then went into the next room, where it knocked a little, and seemed to rattle a chain." the rumour of these wonderful occurrences soon spread all over the country, and people from far and near flocked to the haunted house of tedworth, to believe or doubt, as their natures led them, but all filled with intense curiosity. it appears, too, that the fame of these events reached the royal ear, and that some gentlemen were sent by the king to investigate the circumstances, and draw up a report of what they saw or heard. whether the royal commissioners were more sensible men than the neighbours of mr. mompesson, and required more clear and positive evidence than they, or whether the powers with which they were armed to punish anybody who might be found carrying on this deception, frightened the evil-doers, is not certain; but glanvil himself reluctantly confesses, that all the time they were in the house, the noises ceased, and nothing was heard or seen. "however," says he, "as to the quiet of the house when the courtiers were there, the intermission may have been accidental, or perhaps the demon was not willing to give so public a testimony of those transactions which might possibly convince those who, he had rather, should continue in unbelief of his existence." as soon as the royal commissioners took their departure, the infernal drummer re-commenced his antics, and hundreds of persons were daily present to hear and wonder. mr. mompesson's servant was so fortunate as not only to hear, but to see this pertinacious demon; for it came and stood at the foot of his bed. "the exact shape and proportion of it he could not discover; but he saw a great body, with two red and glaring eyes, which, for some time, were fixed steadily on him, and at length disappeared." innumerable were the antics it played. once it purred like a cat; beat the children's legs black and blue; put a long spike into mr. mompesson's bed, and a knife into his mother's; filled the porrengers with ashes; hid a bible under the grate; and turned the money black in people's pockets. "one night," said mr. mompesson, in a letter to mr. glanvil, "there were seven or eight of these devils in the shape of men, who, as soon as a gun was fired, would shuffle away into an arbour;" a circumstance which might have convinced mr. mompesson of the mortal nature of his persecutors, if he had not been of the number of those worse than blind, who shut their eyes and refuse to see. in the mean time the drummer, the supposed cause of all the mischief, passed his time in gloucester gaol, whither he had been committed as a rogue and a vagabond. being visited one day by some person from the neighbourhood of tedworth, he asked what was the news in wiltshire, and whether people did not talk a great deal about a drumming in a gentleman's house there? the visiter replied, that he heard of nothing else; upon which the drummer observed, "i have done it; i have thus plagued him; and he shall never be quiet until he hath made me satisfaction for taking away my drum." no doubt the fellow, who seems to have been a gipsy, spoke the truth, and that the gang of which he was a member knew more about the noises at mr. mompesson's house than anybody else. upon these words, however, he was brought to trial at salisbury, for witchcraft; and, being found guilty, was sentenced to transportation; a sentence which, for its leniency, excited no little wonder in that age, when such an accusation, whether proved or not, generally insured the stake or the gibbet. glanvil says, that the noises ceased immediately the drummer was sent beyond the seas; but that, some how or other, he managed to return from transportation; "by raising storms and affrighting the seamen, it was said;" when the disturbances were forthwith renewed, and continued at intervals for several years. certainly, if the confederates of this roving gipsy were so pertinacious in tormenting poor weak mr. mompesson, their pertinacity is a most extraordinary instance of what revenge is capable of. it was believed by many, at the time, that mr. mompesson himself was privy to the whole matter, and permitted and encouraged these tricks in his house for the sake of notoriety; but it seems more probable that the gipsies were the real delinquents, and that mr. mompesson was as much alarmed and bewildered as his credulous neighhours, whose excited imaginations conjured up no small portion of these stories, "which rolled, and as they rolled, grew larger every hour." many instances, of a similar kind, during the seventeenth century, might be gleaned from glanvil and other writers of that period; but they do not differ sufficiently from these to justify a detail of them. the most famous of all haunted houses acquired its notoriety much nearer our own time; and the circumstances connected with it are so curious, and afford so fair a specimen of the easy credulity even of well-informed and sensible people, as to merit a little notice in this chapter. the cock lane ghost, as it was called, kept london in commotion for a considerable time, and was the theme of conversation among the learned and the illiterate, and in every circle, from that of the prince to that of the peasant. at the commencement of the year , there resided in cock lane, near west smithfield, in the house of one parsons, the parish clerk of st. sepulchre's, a stockbroker, named kent. the wife of this gentleman had died in child-bed during the previous year, and his sister-in-law, miss fanny, had arrived from norfolk to keep his house for him. they soon conceived a mutual affection, and each of them made a will in the other's favour. they lived some months in the house of parsons, who, being a needy man, borrowed money of his lodger. some difference arose betwixt them, and mr. kent left the house, and instituted legal proceedings against the parish clerk for the recovery of his money. while this matter was yet pending, miss fanny was suddenly taken ill of the small-pox; and, notwithstanding every care and attention, she died in a few days, and was buried in a vault under clerkenwell church. parsons now began to hint that the poor lady had come unfairly by her death, and that mr. kent was accessory to it, from his too great eagerness to enter into possession of the property she had bequeathed him. nothing further was said for nearly two years; but it would appear that parsons was of so revengeful a character, that he had never forgotten or forgiven his differences with mr. kent, and the indignity of having been sued for the borrowed money. the strong passions of pride and avarice were silently at work during all that interval, hatching schemes of revenge, but dismissing them one after the other as impracticable, until, at last, a notable one suggested itself. about the beginning of the year , the alarm was spread over all the neighbourhood of cock lane, that the house of parsons was haunted by the ghost of poor fanny, and that the daughter of parsons, a girl about twelve years of age, had several times seen and conversed with the spirit, who had, moreover, informed her, that she had not died of the smallpox, as was currently reported, but of poison, administered by mr. kent. parsons, who originated, took good care to countenance these reports; and, in answer to numerous inquiries, said his house was every night, and had been for two years, in fact, ever since the death of fanny, troubled by a loud knocking at the doors and in the walls. having thus prepared the ignorant and credulous neighhours to believe or exaggerate for themselves what he had told them, he sent for a gentleman of a higher class in life, to come and witness these extraordinary occurrences. the gentleman came accordingly, and found the daughter of parsons, to whom the spirit alone appeared, and whom alone it answered, in bed, trembling violently, having just seen the ghost, and been again informed that she had died from poison. a loud knocking was also heard from every part of the chamber, which so mystified the not very clear understanding of the visiter, that he departed, afraid to doubt and ashamed to believe, but with a promise to bring the clergyman of the parish and several other gentlemen on the following day, to report upon the mystery. on the following night he returned, bringing with him three clergymen, and about twenty other persons, including two negroes, when, upon a consultation with parsons, they resolved to sit up the whole night, and await the ghost's arrival. it was then explained by parsons, that although the ghost would never render itself visible to anybody but his daughter, it had no objection to answer the questions that might be put to it, by any person present, and that it expressed an affirmation by one knock, a negative by two, and its displeasure by a kind of scratching. the child was then put into bed along with her sister, and the clergymen examined the bed and bed-clothes to satisfy themselves that no trick was played, by knocking upon any substance concealed among the clothes. as on the previous night, the bed was observed to shake violently. after some hours, during which they all waited with exemplary patience, the mysterious knocking was heard in the wall, and the child declared that she saw the ghost of poor fanny. the following questions were then gravely put by the clergyman, through the medium of one mary frazer, the servant of parsons, and to whom it was said the deceased lady had been much attached. the answers were in the usual fashion, by a knock or knocks:-- "do you make this disturbance on account of the ill usage you received from mr. kent?"--"yes." "were you brought to an untimely end by poison?"--"yes." "how was the poison administered, in beer or in purl?"--"in purl." "how long was that before your death?"--"about three hours." "can your former servant, carrots, give any information about the poison?"--"yes." "are you kent's wife's sister?"--"yes." "were you married to kent after your sister's death?"--"no." "was anybody else, besides kent, concerned in your murder?"--"no." "can you, if you like, appear visibly to anyone?"--"yes." "will you do so?"--"yes." "can you go out of this house?"--"yes." "is it your intention to follow this child about everywhere?"--"yes." "are you pleased in being asked these questions?"--"yes." "does it case your troubled soul?"--"yes." [here there was heard a mysterious noise, which some wiseacre present compared to the fluttering of wings.] "how long before your death did you tell your servant, carrots, that you were poisoned?--an hour?"--"yes." [carrots, who was present, was appealed to; but she stated positively that such was not the fact, as the deceased was quite speechless an hour before her death. this shook the faith of some of the spectators, but the examination was allowed to continue.] "how long did carrots live with you?"--"three or four days." [carrots was again appealed to, and said that this was true.] "if mr. kent is arrested for this murder, will he confess?"--"yes." "would your soul be at rest if he were hanged for it?"--"yes." "will he be hanged for it?"--"yes." "how long a time first?"--"three years." "how many clergymen are there in this room?"--"three." "how many negroes?"--"two." "is this watch (held up by one of the clergymen) white?"--"no." "is it yellow?"--"no." "is it blue?"--"no." "is it black?"--"yes." [the watch was in a black shagreen case.] "at what time this morning will you take your departure?" the answer to this question was four knocks, very distinctly heard by every person present; and accordingly, at four o'clock precisely, the ghost took its departure to the wheatsheaf public-house, close by, where it frightened mine host and his lady almost out of their wits by knocking in the ceiling right above their bed. the rumour of these occurrences very soon spread over london, and every day cock lane was rendered impassable by the crowds of people who assembled around the house of the parish clerk, in expectation of either seeing the ghost or of hearing the mysterious knocks. it was at last found necessary, so clamorous were they for admission within the haunted precincts, to admit those only who would pay a certain fee, an arrangement which was very convenient to the needy and money-loving mr. parsons. indeed, things had taken a turn greatly to his satisfaction; he not only had his revenge, but he made a profit out of it. the ghost, in consequence, played its antics every night, to the great amusement of many hundreds of people and the great perplexity of a still greater number. unhappily, however, for the parish clerk, the ghost was induced to make some promises which were the means of utterly destroying its reputation. it promised, in answer to the questions of the reverend mr. aldritch of clerkenwell, that it would not only follow the little miss parsons wherever she went, but would also attend him, or any other gentleman, into the vault under st. john's church, where the body of the murdered woman was deposited, and would there give notice of its presence by a distinct knock upon the coffin. as a preliminary, the girl was conveyed to the house of mr. aldritch near the church, where a large party of ladies and gentlemen, eminent for their acquirements, their rank, or their wealth, had assembled. about ten o'clock on the night of the st of february, the girl having been brought from cock lane in a coach, was put to bed by several ladies in the house of mr. aldritch; a strict examination having been previously made that nothing was hidden in the bedclothes. while the gentlemen, in an adjoining chamber, were deliberating whether they should proceed in a body to the vault, they were summoned into the bedroom by the ladies, who affirmed, in great alarm, that the ghost was come, and that they heard the knocks and scratches. the gentlemen entered accordingly, with a determination to suffer no deception. the little girl, on being asked whether she saw the ghost, replied, "no; but she felt it on her back like a mouse." she was then required to put her hands out of bed, and they being held by some of the ladies, the spirit was summoned in the usual manner to answer, if it were in the room. the question was several times put with great solemnity; but the customary knock was not heard in reply in the walls, neither was there any scratching. the ghost was then asked to render itself visible, but it did not choose to grant the request. it was next solicited to give some token of its presence by a sound of any sort, or by touching the hand or cheek of any lady or gentleman in the room; but even with this request the ghost would not comply. there was now a considerable pause, and one of the clergymen went downstairs to interrogate the father of the girl, who was waiting the result of the experiment. he positively denied that there was any deception, and even went so far as to say that he himself, upon one occasion, had seen and conversed with the awful ghost. this having been communicated to the company, it was unanimously resolved to give the ghost another trial; and the clergyman called out in a loud voice to the supposed spirit that the gentleman to whom it had promised to appear in the vault, was about to repair to that place, where he claimed the fulfilment of its promise. at one hour after midnight they all proceeded to the church, and the gentleman in question, with another, entered the vault alone, and took up their position alongside of the coffin of poor fanny. the ghost was then summoned to appear, but it appeared not; it was summoned to knock, but it knocked not; it was summoned to scratch, but it scratched not; and the two retired from the vault, with the firm belief that the whole business was a deception practised by parsons and his daughter. there were others, however, who did not wish to jump so hastily to a conclusion, and who suggested that they were, perhaps, trifling with this awful and supernatural being, which, being offended with them for their presumption, would not condescend to answer them. again, after a serious consultation, it was agreed on all hands that, if the ghost answered anybody at all, it would answer mr. kent, the supposed murderer; and he was accordingly requested to go down into the vault. he went with several others, and summoned the ghost to answer whether he had indeed poisoned her. there being no answer, the question was put by mr. aldritch, who conjured it, if it were indeed a spirit, to end their doubts-make a sign of its presence, and point out the guilty person. there being still no answer for the space of half an hour, during which time all these boobies waited with the most praiseworthy perseverance, they returned to the house of mr. aldritch, and ordered the girl to get up and dress herself. she was strictly examined, but persisted in her statement that she used no deception, and that the ghost had really appeared to her. so many persons had, by their openly expressed belief of the reality of the visitation, identified themselves with it, that parsons and his family were far from being the only persons interested in the continuance of the delusion. the result of the experiment convinced most people; but these were not to be convinced by any evidence, however positive, and they, therefore, spread abroad the rumour, that the ghost had not appeared in the vault because mr. kent had taken care beforehand to have the coffin removed. that gentleman, whose position was a very painful one, immediately procured competent witnesses, in whose presence the vault was entered and the coffin of poor fanny opened. their deposition was then published; and mr. kent indicted parsons and his wife, his daughter, mary frazer the servant, the reverend mr. moor, and a tradesman, two of the most prominent patrons of the deception, for a conspiracy. the trial came on in the court of king's bench, on the th of july, before lord chief-justice mansfield, when, after an investigation which lasted twelve hours, the whole of the conspirators were found guilty. the reverend mr. moor and his friend were severely reprimanded in open court, and recommended to make some pecuniary compensation to the prosecutor for the aspersions they had been instrumental in throwing upon his character. parsons was sentenced to stand three times in the pillory, and to be imprisoned for two years: his wife to one year's, and his servant to six months' imprisonment in the bridewell. a printer, who had been employed by them to publish an account of the proceedings for their profit, was also fined fifty pounds, and discharged. the precise manner in which the deception was carried on has never been explained. the knocking in the wall appears to have been the work of parsons' wife, while the scratching part of the business was left to the little girl. that any contrivance so clumsy could have deceived anybody, cannot fail to excite our wonder. but thus it always is. if two or three persons can only be found to take the lead in any absurdity, however great, there is sure to be plenty of imitators. like sheep in a field, if one clears the stile, the rest will follow. about ten years afterwards, london was again alarmed by the story of a haunted house. stockwell, near vauxhall, the scene of the antics of this new ghost, became almost as celebrated in the annals of superstition as cock lane. mrs. golding, an elderly lady, who resided alone with her servant, anne robinson, was sorely surprised on the evening of twelfth-day, , to observe a most extraordinary commotion among her crockery. cups and saucers rattled down the chimney--pots and pans were whirled down stairs, or through the windows; and hams, cheeses, and loaves of bread disported themselves upon the floor as if the devil were in them. this, at least, was the conclusion that mrs. golding came to; and being greatly alarmed, she invited some of her neighbours to stay with her, and protect her from the evil one. their presence, however, did not put a stop to the insurrection of china, and every room in the house was in a short time strewed with the fragments. the chairs and tables joined, at last, in the tumults, and things looked altogether so serious and inexplicable, that the neighbours, dreading that the house itself would next be seized with a fit of motion, and tumble about their ears, left poor mrs. golding to bear the brunt of it by herself. the ghost in this case was solemnly remonstrated with, and urged to take its departure; but the demolition continuing as great as before, mrs. golding finally made up her mind to quit the house altogether. she took refuge with anne robinson in the house of a neighbour; but his glass and crockery being immediately subjected to the same persecution, he was reluctantly compelled to give her notice to quit. the old lady thus forced back to her own house, endured the disturbance for some days longer, when suspecting that anne robinson was the cause of all the mischief, she dismissed her from her service. the extraordinary appearances immediately ceased, and were never afterwards renewed; a fact which is of itself sufficient to point out the real disturber. a long time afterwards, anne robinson confessed the whole matter to the reverend mr. bray field. this gentleman confided the story to mr. hone, who has published an explanation of the mystery. anne, it appears, was anxious to have a clear house, to carry on an intrigue with her lover, and resorted to this trick to effect her purpose. she placed the china on the shelves in such a manner that it fell on the slightest motion, and attached horse-hairs to other articles, so that she could jerk them down from an adjoining room without being perceived by any one. she was exceedingly dexterous at this sort of work, and would have proved a formidable rival to many a juggler by profession. a full explanation of the whole affair may be found in the "every-day book." the latest instance of the popular panic occasioned by a house supposed to be haunted, occurred in scotland, in the winter of the year . on the th of december, the inmates of the farm-house of baldarroch, in the district of banchory, aberdeenshire, were alarmed by observing a great number of sticks, pebble-stones, and clods of earth flying about their yard and premises. they endeavoured, but in vain, to discover who was the delinquent; and the shower of stones continuing for five days in succession, they came at last to the conclusion that the devil and his imps were alone the cause of it. the rumour soon spread over all that part of the country, and hundreds of persons came from far and near to witness the antics of the devils of baldarroch. after the fifth day, the shower of clods and stones ceased on the outside of the premises, and the scene shifted to the interior. spoons, knives, plates, mustard-pots, rolling-pins, and flat-irons appeared suddenly endued with the power of self-motion, and were whirled from room to room, and rattled down the chimneys in a manner which nobody could account for. the lid of a mustard-pot was put into a cupboard by the servant-girl in the presence of scores of people, and in a few minutes afterwards came bouncing down the chimney to the consternation of everybody. there was also a tremendous knocking at the doors and on the roof, and pieces of stick and pebble-stones rattled against the windows and broke them. the whole neighbourhood was a scene of alarm; and not only the vulgar, but persons of education, respectable farmers, within a circle of twenty miles, expressed their belief in the supernatural character of these events, and offered up devout prayers to be preserved from the machinations of the evil one. the note of fear being once sounded, the visiters, as is generally the case in all tales of wonder, strove with each other who should witness the most extraordinary occurrences; and within a week, it was generally believed in the parishes of banchory-ternan, drumoak, durris, kincardine-o'neil, and all the circumjacent districts of mearns and aberdeenshire, that the devil had been seen in the act of hammering upon the house-top of baldarroch. one old man asserted positively that, one night, after having been to see the strange gambols of the knives and mustard-pots, he met the phantom of a great black man, "who wheeled round his head with a whizzing noise, making a wind about his ears that almost blew his bonnet off," and that he was haunted by him in this manner for three miles. it was also affirmed and believed, that all horses and dogs that approached this enchanted ground, were immediately affected--that a gentleman, slow of faith, had been cured of his incredulity by meeting the butter-churn jumping in at the door as he himself was going out--that the roofs of houses had been torn off, and that several ricks in the corn-yard had danced a quadrille together, to the sound of the devil's bagpipes re-echoing from the mountain-tops. the women in the family of the persecuted farmer of baldarroch also kept their tongues in perpetual motion; swelling with their strange stories the tide of popular wonder. the good wife herself, and all her servants, said that, whenever they went to bed, they were attacked with stones and other missiles, some of which came below the blankets and gently tapped their toes. one evening, a shoe suddenly darted across a garret where some labourers were sitting, and one of the men, who attempted to catch it, swore positively that it was so hot and heavy he was unable to hold it. it was also said that the bearbeater (a sort of mortar used to bruise barley in)--an object of such weight that it requires several men to move it--spontaneously left the barn and flew over the house-top, alighting at the feet of one of the servant maids, and hitting her, but without hurting her in the least, or even causing her any alarm; it being a fact well known to her, that all objects thus thrown about by the devil lost their specific gravity, and could harm nobody, even though they fell upon a person's head. among the persons drawn to baldarroch by these occurrences were the heritor, the minister, and all the elders of the kirk, under whose superintendence an investigation was immediately commenced. their proceedings were not promulgated for some days; and, in the mean time, rumour continued to travel through all the highlands, magnifying each mysterious incident the further it got from home. it was said, that when the goodwife put her potato-pot on the fire, each potato, as the water boiled, changed into a demon, and grinned horribly at her as she lifted the lid; that not only chairs and tables, but carrots and turnips, skipped along the floor in the merriest manner imaginable; that shoes and boots went through all the evolutions of the highland fling without any visible wearers directing their motions; and that a piece of meat detached itself from the hook on which it hung in the pantry, and placed itself before the fire, whence all the efforts of the people of the house were unable to remove it until it was thoroughly roasted; and that it then flew up the chimney with a tremendous bang. at baldarroch itself the belief was not quite so extravagant; but the farmer was so convinced that the devil and his imps were alone the cause of all the disturbance, that he travelled a distance of forty miles to an old conjuror, named willie foreman, to induce him, for a handsome fee, to remove the enchantment from his property. there were, of course, some sensible and educated people, who, after stripping the stories circulated of their exaggeration, attributed all the rest to one or other of two causes; first, that some gipsies, or strolling mendicants, hidden in the neighbouring plantation, were amusing themselves by working on the credulity of the country people; or, secondly, that the inmates of baldarroch carried on this deception themselves, for some reason or other, which was not very clear to anybody. the last opinion gained but few believers, as the farmer and his family were much respected; and so many persons had, in the most open manner, expressed their belief in the supernatural agency, that they did not like to stultify themselves by confessing that they had been deceived. at last, after a fortnight's continuance of the noises, the whole trick was discovered. the two servant lasses were strictly examined, and then committed to prison. it appeared that they were alone at the bottom of the whole affair, and that the extraordinary alarm and credulity of their master and mistress, in the first instance, and of the neighbours and country people afterwards, made their task comparatively easy. a little common dexterity was all they had used; and, being themselves unsuspected, they swelled the alarm by the wonderful stories they invented. it was they who loosened the bricks in the chimneys, and placed the dishes in such a manner on the shelves, that they fell on the slightest motion. in short, they played the same tricks as those used by the servant girl at stockwell, with the same results, and for the same purpose--the gratification of a love of mischief. they were no sooner secured in the county gaol than the noises ceased, and most people were convinced that human agency alone had worked all the wonder. some few of the most devoutly superstitious still held out in their first belief, and refused to listen to any explanation. these tales of haunted houses, especially those of the last and present century, however they may make us blush for popular folly, are yet gratifying in their results; for they show that society has made a vast improvement. had parsons and his wife, and the other contrivers of the cock lane deception, lived two hundred years earlier, they would not, perhaps, have found a greater number of dupes, but they would have been hanged as witches, instead of being imprisoned as vagabonds. the ingenious anne robinson and the sly lasses of baldarroch would, doubtless, have met a similar fate. thus it is pleasant to reflect, that though there may be as much folly and credulity in the world as ever, in one class of society, there is more wisdom and mercy in another than ever were known before. lawgivers, by blotting from the statute-book the absurd or sanguinary enactments of their predecessors, have made one step towards teaching the people. it is to be hoped that the day is not far distant when lawgivers will teach the people by some more direct means, and prevent the recurrence of delusions like these, and many worse, which might be cited, by securing to every child born within their dominions an education in accordance with the advancing state of civilization. if ghosts and witches are not yet altogether exploded, it is the fault, not so much of the ignorant people, as of the law and the government that have neglected to enlighten them. the history of the life and adventures of mr. duncan campbell, a gentleman, who, tho' deaf and dumb, writes down any stranger's name at first sight; with their future contingencies of fortune. now living in _exeter_ court over-against the _savoy_ in the _strand_. _gentem quidem nullam video neque tam humanam atque doctam; nequtam immanem tamque barbaram, quæ non significari futura et a quie busdam intelligi prædicique posse censeat._ cicero de divinatione, lib. x. _london_: printed for e. curll: and sold by w. mears and t. jauncy, without _temple bar_, w. meadows in _cornhill_, a. bettesworth in _pater-noster-row_. w. lewis in _covent garden and_ w. graves in st. _james's_ street. m.dcc.xx. (price _s._) to the ladies and gentlemen of great britain. i am not unacquainted, that, ever since this book was first promised by way of advertisement to the world, it was greedily coveted by a great many persons of airy tempers, for the same reason that it has been condemned by those of a more formal class, who thought it was calculated partly to introduce a great many new and diverting curiosities in the way of superstition, and partly to divulge the secret intrigues and amours of one part of the sex, to give the other part room to make favourite scandal the subject of their discourse; and so to make one half of the fair species very merry, over the blushes and the mortifications of the other half. but when they come to read the following sheets, they will find their expectations disappointed, but i hope i may say too, very agreeably disappointed. they will find a much more elegant entertainment than they expected. instead of making them a bill of fare out of patchwork romances of polluting scandal, the good old gentleman who wrote the adventures of my life, has made it his business to treat them with a great variety of entertaining passages, which always terminate in morals that tend to the edification of all readers, of whatsoever sex, age, or profession. instead of seducing young, innocent, unwary minds into the vicious delight which is too often taken in reading the gay and bewitching chimeras of the cabalists, and in perusing the enticing fables of new-invented tricks of superstition, my ancient friend, the writer, strikes at the very root of these superstitions, and shows them how they may be satisfied in their several curiosities, by having recourse to me, who by the talent of the second-sight, which he so beautifully represents, how nature is so kind frequently to implant in the minds of men born in the same climate with myself, can tell you those things naturally, which when you try to learn yourselves, you either run the hazard of being imposed upon in your pockets by cheats, gipsies, and common fortune-tellers, or else of being imposed upon in a still worse way, in your most lasting welfare, by having recourse to conjurors or enchanters that deal in black arts, and involve all their consulters in one general partnership of their execrable guilt; or, lastly, of imposing worst of all upon your own selves, by getting into an itch of practising and trying the little tricks of female superstition, which are often more officiously handed down by the tradition of credulous nurses and old women, from one generation to another, than the first principles of christian doctrine, which it is their duty to instil early into little children. but i hope when this book comes to be pretty generally read among you ladies, as by your generous and numerous subscriptions i have good reason to expect, that it will afford a perfect remedy and a thorough cure to that distemper, which first took its rise from too great a growth of curiosity, and too large a stock of credulity nursed prejudicially up with you in your more tender and infant years. whatever young maid hereafter has an innocent but longing desire to know who shall be her husband, and what time she shall be married, will, i hope, when she has read the following sheets of a man that can set her right in the knowledge of those points, purely by possessing the gift of the second sight, sooner have recourse innocently to such a man than use unlawful means to acquire it, such as running to conjurors to have his figure shown in their enchanted glasses, or using any of those traditional superstitions, by which they may dream of their husbands, or cause visionary shapes of them to appear on such and such festival nights of the year; all which practices are not ordinarily wicked and impious, but downright diabolical. i hope that the next th of june, which is st. john baptist's day, i shall not see the several pasture fields adjacent to this metropolis, especially that behind montague house, thronged, as they were the last year, with well dressed young ladies crawling busily up and down upon their knees, as if they were a parcel of weeders, when all the business is to hunt superstitiously after a coal under the root of a plantain, to put under their heads that night, that they may dream who should be their husbands. in order to shame them out of this silly but guilty practice, i do intend to have some spies out on that day, that shall discover who they are, and what they have been about; and i here give notice to the public, that this ill-acted comedy, if it be acted at all this year, must begin according to the rule of their superstition, on that day precisely at the hour of twelve. and so much for the pretty weeders. but as you, ladies, have had several magical traditions delivered to you, which, if you put in exercise and practice, will be greatly prejudicial to your honour and your virtue, let me interpose my counsels, which will conduct you innocuously to the same end, which some ladies have laboured to arrive at by these impieties. give me leave first to tell you, that though what you aim at may be arrived to by these means, yet these means make that a miserable fortune which would have been a good one; because, in order to know human things beforehand, you use preternatural mediums, which destroy the goodness of the courses, which nature herself was taking for you, and annexes to them diabolical influences, which commonly carry along with them fatalities in this world as well as the next. you will, therefore, give me your pardon likewise, ladies, if i relate some other of these practices, which bare relation of itself, after what i have said before, seems to me sufficient to explode them. another of the nurse's prescriptions is this: upon a st. agnes's night, the st day of january, take a row of pins and pull out every one, one after another, saying a _pater noster_, or our father, sticking a pin in your sleeve, and you will dream of her you shall marry. ben johnson, in one of his masks, makes some mention of this: and on sweet agnes' night please you with the promis'd sight, some of husbands, some of lovers, which an empty dream discovers. now what can be more infinitely profane than to use the prayer our lord instituted in such a way? there is another prescription, which is as follows: you must lie in another county, and knit the left garter about the right-legged stocking, let the other garter and stocking alone, and as you rehearse these following verses, at every comma, knit a knot:-- this knot i knit, to know the thing i know not yet, that i may see the man that shall my husband be; how he goes, and what he wears, and what he does all days and years. accordingly in your dream you will see him: if a musician, with a lute or other instrument; if a scholar, with a book, &c. now i appeal to you, ladies, what a ridiculous prescription is this? but yet as slight a thing as it is, it may be of great importance if it be brought about, because then it must be construed to be done by preternatural means, and then those words are nothing less than an application to the devil. mr. aubrey, of the royal society, says, a gentlewoman, that he knew, confessed in his hearing that she used this method, and dreamt of her husband whom she had never seen. about two or three years after, as she was one sunday at church, up pops a young oxonian in the pulpit; she cries out presently to her sister, this is the very face of the man i saw in my dream. sir william somes's lady did the like. another way is to charm the moon thus, as the old nurses give out, at the first appearance of the moon, after new-year's-day, some say any other new moon is as good, go out in the evening, and stand over the spars of a gate or stile, looking on the moon (here remark that in yorkshire they kneel on a ground-fast stone) and say, all hail to the moon, all hail to thee, i prithee, good moon, reveal to me this night who my husband shall be. you must presently after go to bed. the aforesaid mr. aubrey knew two gentlewomen that did thus when they were young maids, and they had dreams of those that married them. but a great many of the wittiest part of your sex laugh at these common superstitions; but then they are apt to run into worse: they give themselves up to the reading of the cabalistical systems of sylphs, and gnomes, and mandrakes, which are very wicked and delusive imaginations. i would not have you imagine, ladies, that i impute these things as infirmities and frailties peculiar to your sex. no; men, and great men too, and scholars, and even statesmen, and princes themselves, have been tainted with superstitions, and where they infect the minds of such great personages, they make the deeper impression, according to the stronger and more manly ideas they have of them. their greater degree of strength in the intellect only subjects them to greater weaknesses; such was even the great paracelsus, the wonder and miracle of learning in the age wherein he lived, and such were all his followers, scholars, statesmen, divines, and princes, that are talismanists. these talismans that paracelsus pretends to owe to the excogitation and invention of honest art, seem to me to be of a very diabolical nature, and to owe their rise to being dedicated by the author to the heathen gods. thus the cabalists pretending to a vast penetration into arts and sciences, though all their thoughts are chimeras and extravagancies, unless they be helped by preternatural means, say they have found out the several methods appropriated to the several planets. they have appropriated gold to the sun on the sunday, silver to the moon on the monday, iron to mars on the tuesday, quicksilver to mercury on the wednesday, tin to jupiter on the thursday, copper or brass to venus on the friday, and lead to saturn on the saturday. the methods they take in forming these talismans are too long to dwell upon here. but the properties which they pretend belong to them are, that the first talisman or seal of the sun will make a man beloved by all princes and potentates, and cause him to abound with all the riches his heart can wish. the second preserves travellers from danger, and is favourable to merchants, tradesmen, and workmen. the third carries destruction to any place where it is put: and it is said that a certain great minister of state ordered one of these to be carried into england in the times of the revolution of government caused by oliver cromwell. the fourth they pretend cures fevers and other diseases; and if it be put under the bolster, it makes the proprietor have true dreams, in which he sees all he desires to know. the fifth, according to them, renders a man lucky and fortunate in all his businesses and undertakings. it dissipates melancholy, drives away all importunate cares, and banishes panic fears from the mind. the sixth, by being put into the liquor which any one drinks, reconciles mortal enemies, makes them intimate friends: it gains the love of all women, and renders the proprietor very dexterous in the art of music. the seventh makes women be easily brought to bed without pain; and if a horseman carries it in his left boot, himself and his horse become invulnerable. this, paracelsus and his learned followers say, is owing to the influence of the stars; but i cannot help arguing these acts of diabolical impiety. but as these arts are rarely known among the middling part of mankind, i shall neither open their mysteries, nor inveigh against them any farther. the persons who are most to be avoided are your ordinary fortune-telling women and men about this town, whose houses ought to be avoided as a plague or a pestilence, either because they are cheats and impostors, or because they deal with black arts, none of them that i know having any pretensions to the gift of a second-sight. among many, a few of the most notorious that i can call to mind now, are as follow. the first and chiefest of these mischievous fortune-tellers is a woman that does not live far from the old bailey. and truly the justice hall in that place is the properest place for her to appear at, where, if she was tried for pretending to give charms written upon paper with odd scrawls, which she calls figures, she would be probably convicted, and very justly condemned, and doomed to have her last journey from the old bailey to newgate, and from newgate to tyburn. the other is a fellow that lives in moorfields, in which place those who go to consult him ought to live all their lifetimes, at the famous palaces of the senseless men: he is the successor of the famous dr. trotter, whose widow he married; and from being a tailor and patching men's garments, he now cuts flourishes with his shears upon parchment, considers the heavens as a garment, and from the spangles thereupon he calculates nativities, and sets up for a very profound astrologer. the third is an ignorant fellow that caws out strange predictions in crow-alley, of whose croaking noise i shall here take no notice, he having been sufficiently mauled in the most ingenious spectators. these and such counterfeits as these, i would desire all gentlemen and ladies to avoid. the only two really learned men that i ever knew in the art of astrology, were my good friends dr. williams and mr. gadbury; and i thought it necessary to pay this esteem to their names, let the world judge of them what it will. i will here say no more, nor hinder you any longer, gentlemen and ladies, from the diversion which my good old friend, who is now departed this life, has prepared for you in his book, which a young gentleman of my acquaintance revised, and only subscribe myself, yours, &c., duncan campbell. the history of the life and surprising adventures of mr. duncan campbell. the introduction. of all the writings delivered in an historical manner to the world, none certainly were ever held in greater esteem than those which give us the lives of distinguished private men at full length; and, as i may say, to the life. such curious fragments of biography are the rarities which great men seek after with eager industry, and when found, prize them as the chief jewels and ornaments that enrich their libraries, and deservedly; for they are the beauties of the greatest men's lives handed down by way of example or instruction to posterity, and commonly handed down likewise by the greatest men. since, therefore, persons distinguished for merit in one kind or other are the constant subjects of such discourses, and the most elegant writers of each age have been usually the only authors who choose upon such subjects to employ their pens, and since persons of the highest rank and dignity, and genii of the most refined and delicate relish, are frequently curious enough to be the readers of them, and to esteem them the most valuable pieces in a whole collection of learned works; it is a wonder to me that when any man's life has something in it peculiarly great and remarkable in its kind, it should not move some more skilful writer than myself to give the public a taste of it, because it must be at least vastly entertaining, if it be not, which is next to impossible, immensely instructive and profitable withal. if ever the life of any man under the sun was remarkable, this mr. duncan campbell's, which i am going to treat upon, is so to a very eminent degree. it affords such variety of incidents, and is accompanied with such diversity of circumstances, that it includes within it what must yield entire satisfaction to the most learned, and admiration to persons of a moderate understanding. the prince and the peasant will have their several ends of worthy delight in reading it; and mr. campbell's life is of that extent, that it concerns and collects, as i may say, within itself, every station of life in the universe. besides, there is a demand in almost every page that relates any new act of his, for the finest and closest disquisitions that learning can make upon human nature, to account how those acts could be done by him. for he daily practised, and still practises, those things naturally, which puts art to the rack to find out how nature can so operate in him; and his fleshly body, by these operations, is a living practical system, or body of new philosophy, which exceeds even all those that have hitherto been compounded by the labour and art of many ages. if one that had speculated deep into abstruse matters, and made it his study not only to know how to assign natural reasons for some strange new acts that looked like miracles by being peculiar to the individual genius of some particular admired man, but carrying his inquiry to a much greater height, had speculated likewise what might possibly be achieved by human genius in the full perfection of nature, and had laid it down as a thesis by strong arguments, that such things might be compassed by a human genius, if in its true degree of perfection, as are the hourly operations of the person's life i am writing, he would have been counted a wild romantic enthusiast, instead of a natural philosopher. some of the wisest would be infidels to so new and so refined a scheme of thinking, and demand experiment, or cry it was all against reason, and would not allow the least tittle to be true without it. yet the man that had found out so great a mystery as to tell us what might be done by human genius, as it is here actually done, would have been a great man within himself; but wanting further experimental proof, could lay no claim to the belief of others, or consequently to their esteem. but how great, then, is the man who makes it constantly his practice actually to do what would not otherwise have been thought to be of such a nature as might ever be acquired by mortal capacity, though in its full complement of all possible perfection? he is not only great within himself, he is great to the world: his experiments force our belief, and the amazing singularity of those experiments provokes both our wonder and esteem. if any learned man should have advanced this proposition, that mere human art could give to the deaf man what should be equal to his hearing, and to the dumb man an equivalent for his want of speech, so that he could converse as freely almost as other hearing or talking persons; that he might, though born deaf, be by art taught how to read, write, and understand any language, as well as students that have their hearing, would not the world, and many even of the learned part of it, say that nothing could be more extravagantly wild, more mad and frantic? the learned dr. wallis, geometry professor of oxford, did first of all lay down this proposition, and was counted by many to have overshot the point of learning, and to have been the author of a whimsical thesis. and i should not have wondered if, after a man's having asserted this might be done, before it was actually done, some blind devout people in those days, had accused him of heresy, and of attributing to men a power of working miracles. the notion of the antipodes was by the most learned men of the age in which st. augustin lived, and by the great st. austin himself, treated in no milder a manner: yet if the ability of teaching the deaf and the dumb a language proved a truth in experience afterwards, ought not those to turn their contempt into admiration, ought not those very people to vote him into the royal society for laying down the proposition, who, before it proved true, in fact, would have been very forward to have sent him to bedlam? the first instance of this accomplishment in a dumb person was proved before king charles ii. by this same dr. wallis, who was a fellow of the royal society, and one of the most ingenious of that society. but, notwithstanding this, should i come afterwards and say, that there is now living a deaf and dumb man, and born so, who could by dint of his own genius teach all others deaf and dumb to read, write, and converse with the talking and hearing part of mankind, some would, i warrant, very religiously conclude, that i was about to introduce some strange new miracle-monger and impostor into the world, with a design of setting up some new sect of anti-christianism, as formidable as that of brachmans. should i proceed still further, and say, that this same person, so deaf and dumb, might be able also to show a presaging power, or kind of prophetical genius, (if i may be allowed to use the expression,) by telling any strange persons he never saw before in his life, their names in writing, and by telling them the past actions of their lives, and predicting to them determined truths of future contingencies, notwithstanding what divines say, that "in futuris contingeatibus non datur determinata veritas," would not they conclude that i was going to usher in a new mahomet? since, therefore, there does exist such a man in london, who actually is deaf and dumb, and was born so, who does write and read, and converse as well as anybody, who teaches others deaf and dumb to write, and read and converse with anybody, who likewise can, by a presaging gift, set down in writing the name of any stranger at first sight, tell him his past actions, and predict his future occurrences in fortune, and since he has practised this talent as a profession with great success for a long series of years upon innumerable persons in every state and vocation in life, from the peeress to the waiting-woman, and from the lady mayoress to the milliner and sempstress, will it not be wonderfully entertaining to give the world a perfect history of this so singular a man's life? and while we are relating the pleasant adventures with such prodigious variety, can anything be more agreeably instructive in a new way than to intersperse the reasons, and account for the manner how nature, having a mind to be remarkable, performs by him acts so mysterious. i have premised this introduction, compounded of the merry and the serious, with the hopes of engaging many curious people of all sorts to be my readers, even from the airy nice peruser of novels and romances, neatly bound and finely gilt, to the grave philosopher, that is daily thumbing over the musty and tattered pieces of more solid antiquity. i have all the wonders to tell that such a merry kind of a prophet has told, to entertain the fancies of the first gay tribe, by which means i may entice them into some solid knowledge and judgment of human nature; and i have several solid disquisitions of learning to make, accounting for the manner of these mysterious operations, never touched upon before in due form and order by the hands of the ancient or modern sages, that i may bribe the judgment of this last grave class, so far as to endure the intermixing entertainment with their severer studies. chapter i. mr. campbell's descent, family, birth, etc. of the goodness and antiquity of the name and family of this gentleman, nobody can ever make any question. he is a campbell, lineally descended from the house of argyll, and bears a distant relation to the present duke of that name in scotland, and who is now constituted a duke of england, by the style and title of duke of greenwich. it happens frequently that the birth of extraordinary persons is so long disputed by different people, each claiming him for their own, that the real place where he first took breath grows at last dubious. and thus it fares with the person who is the subject of the following sheets; as, therefore, it is my proposal to have a strict regard to historical faith, so i am obliged to tell the reader that i can with no certainty give an account of him till after he was three years old; from which age i knew him, even to this day; i will answer for the truths which i impart to the public during that time, and as for his birth and the circumstances of it, and how the first three years of his life passed, i can only deliver them the same account i have received from others, and leave them to their own judgments whether it ought to be deemed real or fabulous. the father of our mr. duncan campbell, as these relate the story, was from his infancy of a very curious, inquisitive nature, and of an enterprising genius, and if he heard of anything surprising to be seen, the difficulty in practice was enough to recommend to him the attempting to get a sight of it at any rate or any hazard. it is certain, that during some civil broils and troubles in scotland, the grandfather of our mr. campbell was driven with his wife and family, by the fate of war, into the isle of shetland, where he lived many years; and during his residence there, mr. archibald campbell, the father of our duncan campbell, was born. shetland lies north-east from orkney, between sixty and sixty-one degrees of latitude. the largest isle of shetland, by the natives called the mainland, is sixty miles in length from south-west to the north-east, and from sixteen, to one mile, in breadth. the people who live in the smaller isles have abundance of eggs and fowl, which contributes to maintain their families during the summer. the ordinary folks are mostly very nimble and active in climbing the rocks in quest of those eggs and fowl. this exercise is far more diverting than hunting and hawking among us, and would certainly for the pleasure of it, be followed by people of greater distinction, was it not attended with very great dangers, sufficient to turn sport into sorrow, and which have often proved fatal to those who too eagerly pursue their game. mr. archibald campbell, however, delighted extremely in this way of fowling, and used to condescend to mix with the common people for company, because none of the youths of his rank and condition were venturesome enough to go along with him. the most remarkable experiment of this sort, is at the isle called the noss of brassah: the noss standing at sixteen fathoms distance from the side of the opposite main: the higher and lower rocks have two stakes fastened in each of them, and to these there are ropes tied; upon the ropes there is an engine hung which they call a cradle, and in this a man makes his way over from the greater to the smaller rocks, where he makes a considerable purchase of eggs and fowl; but his return being by an ascent, makes it the more dangerous, though those on the great rock have a rope tied to the cradle, by which they draw it and the man safe over for the most part. over this rock mr. archibald campbell and five others were in that manner let down by cradles and ropes; but before they could be all drawn back again, it grew dark, and their associates not daring to be benighted, were forced to withdraw, and mr. campbell was the unfortunate person left behind, having wandered too far, and not minded how the day declined, being intent on his game. he passed that night, you may easily guess, without much sleep, and with great anxiety of heart. the night, too, as he lay in the open air, was, to add to his misfortunes, as boisterous and tempestuous as his own mind; but in the end the tempest proved very happy for him. the reader is to understand that the hamburghers, bremeners, and hollanders, carry on a great fish trade there. accordingly, a holland vessel, that was just coming in the sound of brassah, was by this tempest driven into a creek of the rock, which nature had made into a harbour, and they were providentially saved from the bottom of the sea by a rock, from which, humanly speaking, they could expect nothing but destruction, and being sent to the bottom of that sea. as never could a man be taken hold of with so sudden and surprising a disaster, so nobody could meet with a more sudden and surprising relief than mr. campbell found when he saw a ship so near. he made to the vessel, and begged the hollanders to take him in; they asked him what he would give them, or, said the barbarous sailors, we will even leave you where you are; he told them his disaster, but they asked money, and nothing else would move them: as he knew them a self-interested people, he bethought himself, that if he should tell them of the plenty of fowls and eggs they would get there, he might not only be taken in a passenger, but made a partner in the money arising from the stock; it succeeded accordingly: when he proposed it, the whole crew were all at work, and, in four hours, pretty well stored the vessel, and then, returning on board, set sail for holland. they offered mr. campbell to put him in at his own island; but having a mind to see holland, and being a partner, to learn their way of merchandize, which he thought he might turn to his countrymen's advantage, he told them he would go the voyage out with them, and see the country of those who were his deliverers; a necessary way of speech, when one has a design to sooth barbarians, who, but for interest, would have left him unredeemed, and, for aught they knew, a perpetual sole inhabitant of a dreadful rock, encompassed round with precipices, some three hundred fathoms high. not so the islanders, who are wrongly called a savage set of mortals; no, they came in quest of him after so bitter a night, not doubting to find him, but fearing to find him in a lamentable condition; they hunted and ransacked every little hole and corner in the rock, but all in vain. in one place they saw a great slaughter of fowls, enough to serve forty families for a week; and then they guessed, though they had not the ill fortune to meet the eagles frequently noted to hover about those isles, that they might have devoured part of him on some precipice of the rock, and dropped the remnant into the sea. night came upon them, and they were afraid of falling into the same disaster they went to relieve mr. campbell from. they returned each to their proper basket, and were drawn up safe by their respective friends, who were amazed that one basket was drawn up empty which was let down for mr. campbell, and that there was not the least intelligence to be had concerning him, but the suppositious story of his having been devoured by eagles. the story was told at home; and with the lamentation of the whole family, and all his friends, he was looked upon to be murdered or dead. return we now to mr. archibald campbell, still alive, and on board the holland vessel; secure, as he thought within himself that, from the delivery he lately had by the gift of providence, he was not intended to be liable to any more misfortunes and dangers of life, in the compass of so small a voyage. but his lot was placed otherwise in the book of fate, than he too fondly imagined: his time of happiness was dated some pages lower down, and more rubs and difficulties were to be encountered with, before his stars intended to lead him to the port of felicity. just as he arrived within sight of amsterdam, a terrible storm arose, and, in danger of their lives, for many hours, they weathered out the tempest; and a calm promising fair afresh, they made to the coast of zealand; but a new hurricane prevented the ship from coming there also; and after having lost their masts and rigging, they were driven into lapland. there they went ashore in order to careen and repair their ship, and take in provisions; while the ship was repairing by the dutch, our islander made merry with the inhabitants, being the most inclined to their superstitious customs; he there became acquainted with a very beautiful woman, who fell in love with him, and after a very short space of time he married her. about the time when the ship departed, his wife, who was very rich, was big with child of a son, namely, mr. duncan campbell. he wrote a letter by the master of the vessel to his parents in shetland, concerning the various adventures he had met with, which was delivered the june following, about the time of fishing, to his parents, and several persons had copies thereof, and, for aught i know, some retain them to this very day; sure i am that many remember the particulars of this, surprising affair, who are now living in that island. the letter being very remarkable and singular in all its circumstances, i shall present it to the reader word for word, as it was given into my hands, together with some others which he wrote afterwards, in all which i am assured by very credible persons, and undoubted authorities, there are not the least alterations, but what the version of it from the then scotch manner of expression into a more modern english dress, made absolutely necessary. my dearest father, the same odd variety of accident, which put it out of my power to be personally present with you for so long a time, put it likewise out of my power to write to you. at last fortune has so ordered it, that i can send a letter to you before i can come myself, and it is written expressly to tell you the adventures i have met with, which have detained me this tedious space of time from my dear father, and because the same captain of a ship that brings you this, might as easily have brought your son to speak for himself. i shall in the next place lay before you the necessity there is for my stay a little longer among the strange natives of the country where i now inhabit, and where i am, in a manner, become naturalized. you have, no doubt of it, been informed by my companions, some of whom i hope got safe back again, if not all, that i was lost, where many a brave man has perished before me, by going over the high precipices of the mountain brassah, in a basket, sliding down by a rope. i must suppose i have given you the anguish of a father for a son, who you thought had lost his life by such a foolhardy attempt, and i implore your pardon with all the power of filial contrition, penitence, and duty. you have always showed me such singular marks of paternal affection, that i know your receipt of this letter will fill your heart with joy, and cause you to sign me an absolution and free pardon for all the errors i have committed, and think the sufferings i have undergone for my rashness and indiscretion, a sufficient atonement for my crime of making you by my undutifulness, a partner of my sorrows. to free you the more from this uneasiness, i know i need only tell you, that every grief of mine is gone excepting one, which is, that i must still lose the pleasure of seeing you a little longer. there was never surely a more bitter night than that which must by me be for ever remembered, when i was lost in the mountain of brassah, where i must, for aught i know, have lived for ever a wild single inhabitant, but that the storm which made the night so uneasy to me, rendered the first approach of daylight, beyond measure delightful. the first providential glimpse of the morning gave me a view of a ship driven by the tempest into a creek of the rock, that was by nature formed like a harbour; a miraculous security of deliverance, as i thought, both for the ship's crew and myself. i made all the haste i could, you may be sure, to them, and i found them to be dutchmen that were come for fish; but in lieu of fish i instructed them to load it with eggs and fowl, which we compassed very happily in a short space of time, and i was to be a sharer with the captain in the lading, and bargained to go for holland, to see the sale, and nature of the traffic; but when we were at sea, after much bad weather, we made towards zealand, but we were driven upon the coast of finland by a new storm, and thence into lapland, where i now am, and from whence i send you this letter. i could not come into a place so properly named for my reception; as i had been undutiful to you, and fortune seemed to make me an exile, or a banished man, by way of punishment for the vices of my youth; so lapland (which is a word originally derived from the finland word _lappi_, that is, exiles, and from the sweden word _lap_, signifying banished, from which two kingdoms most of our inhabitants were banished hither, for not embracing the christian religion), was certainly the properest country in the world to receive me. when first i entered this country, i thought i was got into quite another world; the men are all of them pigmies to our tall, brawny highlanders; they are, generally speaking, not above three cubits high, insomuch that though the whole country of lapland is immensely large, and i have heard it reckoned by the inhabitants to be above a hundred german leagues in length, and fourscore and ten in breadth, yet i was the tallest man there, and looked upon as a giant. the district in which i live now, is called uma lapmark. you must understand, sir, that when i landed at north cape, in kimi lapmark, another district of lapland, there was at that time a most beautiful lady come to see a sick relation of her father's, who was prefect, or governor of uma lapmark, which is a post of great distinction. this lady, by being frequently in the company of french merchants, who traffic now and then in that province of uma lapmark, understood french, and having heard of a man six foot and a half high, desired to see me, and when i came, she happened mightily to like my person; and she talked french, which when i answered, she made great signs of joy, that she could communicate her sentiments to me, and she told me who she was, how rich, and that not one in the company besides could understand a syllable we said, and so i might speak my mind freely to her; she told me the customs of the country, that it was divided into cantons, like our shires, and those cantons into rekars, or certain grounds allotted to families, that are just like our clans. as she was beyond measure beautiful, she was extremely good humoured, a thing rarely to be met among lapland women, of a better stature than her country women, and very rich, and of good birth: i thought it would be a prodigious turn of fortune, for a man in my circumstances, if i could make any progress in her heart, which she seemed a little to open to me, in such a manner, for the beginning, as if such a successful event, if managed with prudence, might not be despaired off. souls that are generous are apt to love, and compassion is the best introducer of love into a generous bosom, and that was the best stock i had to go upon in my courtship! i told her of all my calamities, my dangers, and my escapes; the goodness of my birth, as being allied to one of the greatest nobles in our island; and still she would ask me to tell it her over again, though every time i told it, just at such and such passages, she was forced to drop the tears from her eyes. in fine, i grew more in love with her, more out of a sense of gratitude now, than by the power of her charms before; the matter in a few days went so far, that she owned to me i had her heart. as to marriage, i did not then know the custom of the nation; i thought that if it proved only dangerous to me, i loved her so well that i intended to marry her, though the law was to pronounce me dead for it; but i did not know whether it might not be perilous for her too, to engage in such a state with me, and i resolved in that case, rather to be singly unhappy, than to involve her in distress, and make her the fair companion of my woes. i would not tell her so, for fear she should out of love hide from me those dangers, and therefore using a kind sort of dissimulation, i conjured her to tell me the laws and customs of marriages in that country to a tittle, and that nothing should hinder us from happiness. she told me exactly, as i find since. our marriage, said she, will be very hard to compass; provided we follow the strict rule of the country. for our women here, are bound not to see the man who makes their addresses to them, in some time. his way of courtship is to come to the parents, and his nearest friends and relations must make her father presents, and supplicate him like a king, to grant him his daughter. the courtship often lasts two or three years, and sometimes has not its effect at last; but if it has, the woman is dragged by her father and brother to church, as unwilling to go to be married, which is looked upon as a greater part of modesty in her, according to the greater disinclination she shows. my father and brother, said she, will both be against it; you have no relations in this country to move your suit, i cannot be so hypocritical as to be dragged unwillingly to him i own i desire for my lawful husband, and therefore, as i have an inclination to you, and i dare own i have, i will not follow those methods which i disapprove. i have talked with several swedes, and several polite frenchmen, about their manner of espousals, and i am told, that when souls are naturally united by affection, the couple so mutually and reciprocally loving, though they had rather have their parents' leave if likely to be got, yet, unwilling to be disappointed, only go to the next minister's and marry for better for worse. this way i approve of, for where two persons naturally love each other, the rest is nothing but a modest restraint to their wishes, and since it is only custom, my own reason teaches me there is no error committed, nor any harm done in breaking through it upon so commendable an occasion. i have, added she, a thousand rein-deer belonging to me, beyond my father's power of taking away, and a third share in a rekar or clan, that is ten leagues in compass, in the byar or canton of uma lapmark. this is at my own disposal, and it is all your own, if you please to accept of it with me. our women are very coy, when they are courted, though they have never so much an inclination to their suitor; but good reason and the commerce i have had with persons of politer nations than ours is, teach me that this proceeds entirely from vanity and affectation, and the greatest proof of a woman's modesty, chastity, and sincerity, certainly consists, contrary to the general corrupted opinion, in yielding up herself into the arms of the man she loves. for she that can dally with a heart she prizes, can give away her heart, when she is once balked, to any man, even though she dislikes him. you must judge, my dear father, i must be touched with a woman that was exceeding beautiful, beyond any of her nation, and who had thoughts as beautiful as her person. i therefore was all in rapture, and longed for the matrimony, but still loved her enough to propose the question, i resolved, to her, viz., if it would not be in her nation accounted a clandestine marriage, and prove of great damage to her. to this she answered with all the wisdom which could be expected from a woman who had given such eminent tokens of her judgment on other points, amidst a nation so barbarous in its manners, and so corrupt in its principles, as lapland is. i am, said she, answerable to my father, for nothing by our laws, having no portion of him, but only what was presented me by my relations at my birth, according to custom, in lands and rein-deer. my father is but deputy governor; it is a swede who is the governor of uma; and if i pay to him at every mart and fair the due tribute, which must either consist of fifty rein-deer or one hundred and fifty rixdollars, he will have the priest that marries us present at the court of justice, according to our custom, and keep us in possession of our rights, that we may be enabled to pay tribute to the crown of sweden. indeed, before the abolition of the birkarti, which were our native judges, we could not have married thus without danger to us both; but now there is none at all. my dear father, you must easily imagine that i could not help embracing with all tenderness so dear and so lovely a woman. in fine, i am married to her, i have lived very happy hitherto, and am now grown more happy, for she is big with child; and likely, before my letter comes to your hands, to make you a grandfather of a pretty boy. you will perhaps wonder that i name the sex of the child before it comes into the world, but we have a way in lapland of finding that out, which though some judicious people call superstitious, i am really persuaded of by experience, and therefore i indulged my dear wife's curiosity, when she signified to me she had a mind to make the usual trial, whether the child she was going to be delivered of would be a boy or a girl. you must understand, my dear father, the people here judge of the sex of the child by the moon, unto which they compare a big-bellied woman. if they see a star appear just above the moon, it is a sign it will be a boy, but, if the star be just below the moon, they conjecture her to be big with a girl. this observation and remark of laplanders has, i know, been accounted by some, and those wise and judicious men too, to be ridiculously superstitious; but i have been led into an easy belief of this mystery, by a mistress that is superior to wisdom itself, constant, and therefore probably infallible, experience. i therefore indulged my wife in this her request, and went with her to the ceremony; the star appeared above the moon, which prognosticates a boy, which i wish may, and i scarce doubt will, prove true, and when she is brought to bed i will send you word of it. it is remarkable, likewise, that a star was seen just before the moon, which we also count a very good omen. for it is a custom likewise here in lapland, to consult the moon, as an oracle about the health and vigour of the child. if a star be seen just before the moon, we count it a sign of a lusty and well grown child, without blemish; if a star comes just after, we reckon it a token that the child will have some defect or deformity, or die soon after it is born. having thus told you the manners of the country i live in at present, as much at large as the nature of a letter will permit, and related to you my own happy circumstances, and the kindly promises of the heavens that are ushering in the birth of my child, i would not have you think that i addict myself to the superstitions of the country, which are very many and groundless, and arising partly from the remainder of pagan worship, which is still cultivated among some of the more obstinate inhabitants. i have, on the contrary, since i married her, endeavoured to repay my wife's temporal blessings to me with those that are endless, instructed her in all the points of religion, and made her perfectly a christian; and she, by her devotion and prayers for me, makes me such amends for it that i hope in us two st. paul's saying will be verified, viz., "that the woman shall be sanctified in her husband, and the husband shall be sanctified in his wife." however, i must take notice in this place, with all due deference to christianity, that though i am obliged to applaud the prudence and piety of charles the ninth of sweden, who, constituting swedish governors over this country, abrogated their practice of superstitions and art magic upon pain of death, yet that king carried the point too far, and intermingled with these arts the pretensions to the gift of a second-sight, which you know how frequent it is with us in scotland, and which, i assure you, my wife (though she durst not publicly own it for fear of incurring the penalty of those swedish laws) does, as it were, inherit (for all her ancestors before her have had it from time immemorial) to a greater degree than ever i knew any of our countrywomen or countrymen. one day last week she distracted me between the extremes of joy and sorrow. she told me i should see you shortly, and that my coming son would grow to be one of the most remarkable men in england and scotland, for his power of foresight; but that i should speedily lose her, and meet with difficulties in my own country, in the same manner as my father, meaning you, sir, had done before me, and on the same account, viz., of civil broils, and intestine wars in scotland. these unfortunate parts of her relation i would not conceal from you, because the veracity of her notions should appear, if they are true, though you may be sure i much wish they all may prove false to the very last; excepting that wherein she tells me, my son will be greatly remarkable, and that i shall shortly see my dear father, which i daily long for, and will endeavour to do as soon as possible. pray remember me to all friends; being, honoured sir, your most dutiful and loving son, archibald campbell. * * * * * the second letter. i am now the happiest man alive; the prosperous part of my wife's predictions, which i mentioned to you in my last, is come in some measure to pass. the child she has brought me proves a boy, and as fine a one as i ever beheld, (if fondness for my own makes me not blind); and sure it cannot be fondness, because other plain circumstances joined at his birth to prove it a more than ordinary remarkable one. he was born with a caul upon his head, which we count one of the luckiest signs that can be in nature; he had likewise three teeth ready cut through the gums, and we reckon that an undeniable testimony and promise given to the world by nature, that she intends such a person for her extraordinary favourite, and that he is born for great things, which i daily beg of heaven may come to pass. since i have known for some months what it is to be a father, it adds a considerable weight to those affections which i had for my wife. i thought that my tenderness for her was at the height of perfection before; which shows how little we know of those parts of nature that we have yet never tried, and of which we have not yet been allotted our share to act upon the stage of life. i find that i did love her then as well as a husband could love a wife, that is, a wife without a child; but the love to a wife that has a child, is a feeling wonderful and inexpressibly different. a child is the seal and the pledge of love. meditating upon this, has likewise doubled my affection to you. i loved you before, as a son, and because as such, i felt your tenderness; but my love is much increased now, because i know the tenderness which you felt for me as a father. with these pleasing images of thought, i often keep you nearer company at this vast distance, than when i lived irregularly under your eye. these reflections render a solitary life dear to me. and though i have no manner of acquaintance with her relations, who hate me, as i am told, nor indeed with almost any of the inhabitants, but my own domestics, and those i am forced to deal with, yet i have as much, methinks, as i wish for, unless i could come over to shetland and live with you, which i the more ardently desire, because i think i and my wife could be true comforts to you, in your advanced years; now i know what living truly is. i am daily persuading my wife to go with me; but she denies me with kind expressions, and says, she owes too much to the place, however less pleasant in itself than other climates, where she had the happiness of first joining hands with me in wedlock, ever to part from it. but i must explain how i ask, and how she refuses. i resolved never directly and downrightly to ask her, because i know she can refuse me nothing; and that would be bearing hard upon the goodness of her will. but my way of persuading her consists in endeavouring to make her in love with the place, by agreeable descriptions of it, and likewise of the humane temper of the people; so that i shortly shall induce her to signify to me that it is her own will to come with me, and then i shall seem rather to consent to her will, than to have moved it over to my own. these hopes i have of seeing my dear father very shortly, and i know such news would make this letter, which i therefore send, more acceptable to him, to whom i will be, a most dutiful and affectionate son, till death, archibald campbell. p.s. if i cannot bring my wife to change this country for another, i have brought her to that pitch of devotion, that whenever providence, which, notwithstanding her predictions, i hope will be long yet, shall call her to change this world for another, it will be happy with her there; she joins with me in begging your blessing to me, herself, and our little duncan, whom we christened so, out of respect to the name you bear. * * * * * the third letter. my dear father, i am lost in grief; i had just brought my wife (her that was my wife, for i have none now, i have lost all joy), in the mind of coming over to be a comfort to you. but now grief will let me say no more than that i am coming to beg comfort from you, and by this i prepare you to receive, when he comes, a son in tears and mourning. archibald campbell. p.s. i have a babe, not much above two years old, must bear the hardships of travelling over the ice, and all through muscovy, for no ships can stir here for many months; and i cannot bear to live in this inhospitable place, where she died, that only could make it easy to me, one moment beyond the first opportunity i have of leaving it. she is in heaven; that should make me easy, but i cannot; i am not so good a christian as she was--i am lost and ruined. chapter ii. after the death of mr. duncan campbell's mother in lapland, his father, archibald, returned with his son to scotland. his second marriage, and how his son was taught to write and read. mr. archibald campbell, having buried his lapland lady, returned to scotland, and brought over with him his son, mr. duncan campbell. by that time he had been a year in his own country, he married a second wife; a lady whom i had known very well for some years, and then i first saw the boy; but, as they went into the western islands, i saw them not again in three years. she being, quite contrary to the cruel way much in use among stepmothers, very fond of the boy, was accustomed to say, she did, and would always think him her own son. the child came to be about four years of age, as she has related to me the story since, and not able to speak one word, nor to hear any noise; the father of him used to be mightily oppressed with grief, and complain heavily to his new wife, who was no less perplexed, that a boy so pretty, the son of so particular a woman, which he had made his wife, by strange accidents and adventures, and a child coming into the world with so many amazing circumstances attending his birth, should lose those precious senses by which alone the social commerce of mankind is upheld and maintained, and that he should be deprived of all advantages of education, which could raise him to the character of being the great man that so many concurring incidents at his nativity promised and betokened he would be. one day, a learned divine, who was of the university of glasgow, but had visited oxford, and been acquainted with the chief men of science there, happening to be in conversation with the mother-in-law of this child, she related to him her son's misfortunes, with so many marks of sorrow, that she moved the good old gentleman's compassion, and excited in him a desire to give her what relief and consolation he could in this unhappy case. his particular inclination to do her good offices, made him recollect, that, at the time he was at oxford, he had been in company with one doctor wallis, a man famous for learning, who had told him that he had taught a born deaf and dumb man to write, and to read, and even to utter some sounds articulately with his mouth; and that he told him he was then going to commit to print the method he made use of in so instructing that person, that others, in the like unfortunate condition might receive the same benefits and advantages from other masters, which his deaf and dumb pupil had received from him. a dumb man recovering his speech, or a blind man gaining his sight, or a deaf one getting his hearing, could not be more overjoyed than mrs. campbell was at these unexpected tidings, and she wept for gladness when he told it. the good gentleman animated and encouraged her with the kindest promises, and to keep alive her hopes, assured her he would send to one of the chief booksellers in london to inquire after the book, who would certainly procure it him if it was to be got, and that afterwards he would peruse it diligently, make himself master of doctor wallis's method, and though he had many great works upon his hands at that time, he would steal from his other studies leisure enough to complete so charitable an office, as teaching the dumb and deaf to read and to write, and give her son, who was by nature deprived of them, the advantages of speech, as far as art would permit that natural defect to be supplied by her powerful interposition. when the mother came home, the child, who could hear no knocking, and therefore it must be by a strange and inexplicable instinct in nature, was the first that ran to the door, and falling in a great fit of laughter, a thing it was not much used to before, having on the contrary rather a melancholy cast of complexion, it clung round its mother's knees, incessantly embracing and kissing them, as if just at that time it had an insight into what the mother had been doing for it, and into its own approaching relief from its misery. when the mother came with the child in her hand to the father, to tell him the welcome news, the child burst afresh into a great fit of laughter, which continued for an unusual space of time; and the scene of such reciprocal affection and joy between a wife and her own husband, on so signal an occasion, is a thing easier to be felt by parents of a good disposition, imagining themselves under the same circumstances, with regard to a child they loved with fondness, than to be expressed or described by the pen of any writer. but it is certain, whenever they spoke of this affair, as anybody, who knows the impatience of parents for the welfare of an only child, may guess, they must be often discoursing it over, and wishing the time was come; the boy, who used seldom so much as to smile at other times, and who could never hear the greatest noise that could be made, would constantly look wishfully in their faces and laugh immoderately, which is a plain indication that there was then a wonderful instinct in nature, as i said before, which made him foretaste his good fortune, and, if i may be allowed the expression, the dawnings as it were of the second-sight, were then pregnant within him. to confirm this, the happy hour of his deliverance being come, and the doctor having procured mr. wallis's book, came with great joy, and desired to see his pupil; scarce were the words out of his mouth when the child happened to come into the room, and running towards the doctor, fell on his knees, kissed his hand eagerly, and laughed as before, which to me is a demonstration that he had an insight into the good which the doctor intended him. it is certain, that several learned men, who have written concerning the second-sight, have demonstrated by incontestable proofs, and undeniable arguments, that children, nay, even horses and cows, see the second-sight, as well as men and women advanced in years. but of this i shall discourse at large in its proper place, having allotted a whole future chapter for that same subject of second-sightedness. in about half a year, the doctor taught his little dumb pupil first to know his letters, then to name anything whatsoever, to leave off some savage motions which he had taken of his own accord before, to signify his mind by, and to impart his thoughts by his fingers and his pen, in a manner as intelligible, and almost as swift through the eyes, as that is of conveying our ideas to one another, by our voices, through the conduits and portholes of the ears. but in little more than two years he could write and read as well as anybody. because a great many people cannot conceive this, and others pretend it is not to be done in nature, i will a little discourse upon doctor wallis's foundation, and show in a manner obvious to the most ignorant, how this hitherto mysterious help may be easily administered to the deaf and the dumb, which shall be the subject of the ensuing chapter. but i cannot conclude this without telling the handsome saying with which this child, when not quite six years old, as soon as he thought he could express himself well, paid his first acknowledgment to his master, and which promised how great his future genius was to be, when so witty a child ripened into man. the words he wrote to him were these, only altered into english from the scotch. sir, it is no little work you have accomplished. my thanks are too poor amends; the world, sir, shall give you thanks; for as i could not have expressed myself without your teaching me, so those that can talk, though they have eyes, cannot see the things which i can see, and shall tell them; so that in doing me this, you have done a general service to mankind. chapter iii. the method of teaching deaf and dumb persons to write, read, and understand a language. it is, i must confess, in some measure, amazing to me that men, of any moderate share of learning, should not naturally conceive of themselves a plain reason for this art, and know how to account for the practicability of it, the moment they hear the proposition advanced; the reasons for it are so obvious to the very first consideration we can make about it. it will be likewise as amazing to me that the most ignorant should not conceive it, after so plain a reason is given them for it, as i am now going to set down. to begin: how are children at first taught a language that can hear? are they not taught by sounds? and what are those sounds, but tokens and signs to the ear, importing and signifying such and such a thing? if, then, there can be signs made to the eye, agreed by the party teaching the child, that they signify such and such a thing, will not the eye of the child convey them to the mind, as well as the ear? they are indeed different marks to different senses, but both the one and the other do equally signify the same things or notions, according to the will of the teacher, and consequently must have an equal effect with the person who is to be instructed, for though the manners signifying are different, the things signified are the same. for example; if, after having invented an alphabet upon the fingers, a master always keeps company with a deaf child, and teaches it to call for whatsoever it wants by such motions of the fingers which, if put down by letters, according to each invented motion of each finger, would form in writing a word of a thing which it wanted; might not he by these regular motions teach its eye the same notions of things, as sounds do to the ears of children that hear? the manner of teaching the alphabet by fingers, is plainly set down in the following table. when the deaf child has learned by these motions a good stock of words, as children that hear first learn by sounds, we may, methinks, call not improperly, the fingers of such a dumb infant, its mouth, and the eye of such a deaf child, its ear. when he has learnt thus far, he must be taught to write the alphabet, according as it was adapted to the motions of his fingers; as for instance, the five vowels, _a_, _e_, _i_, _o_, _u_, by pointing to the top of the five fingers, and the other letters, _b_, _c_, _d_, &c., by such other place or posture of a finger, as in the above-mentioned table is set forth, or otherwise, it shall be agreed upon. when this is done, the marks b, r, e, a, d, and so of all other words, corresponding with such fingers, conveys through his eyes, unto his head, the same notion, viz., the thing signified, as the sound we give to those same letters, making the word 'bread,' do into our head, through the ears. this once done, he may be easily taught to understand the parts of speech, as the verb, the noun, pronoun, &c., and so, by rules of grammar and syntax, to compound ideas, and connect his words into a language. the method of which, since it is plainly set forth in doctor wallis's letter to mr. beverly, i shall set it down by way of extract; that people in the same circumstances with the person we treat of, and of the like genius, may not have their talents lost for want of the like assistance. when once a deaf person has learned so far as to understand the common discourse of others, and to express his mind tolerably well in writing, i see no room to doubt but that, provided nature has endowed him with a proper strength of genius, as other men that hear, he may become capable, upon farther improvement, of such farther knowledge as is attainable by reading. for i must here join with the learned doctor wallis in asserting, as to the present case before us, that no reason can be assigned why such a deaf person may not attain the understanding of a language as perfectly as those that hear; and with the same learned author i take upon me to lay down this proposition as certain, that allowing the deaf person the like time and exercise, as to other men is requisite in order to attain the perfection of a language, and the elegance of it, he may understand as well, and write as good language, as other men; and abating only what doth depend upon sound, as tones, cadences, and such punctilios, no whit inferior to what he might attain to, if he had his hearing as others have? * * * * * _an extract from dr. wallis, concerning the method of teaching the deaf and dumb to read._ it is most natural, (as children learn the names of things), to furnish him by degrees with a nomenclator, containing a competent number of names of things common and obvious to the eye, that you may show the thing answering to such a name, and these digested under convenient titles, and placed under them in such convenient order, in several columns, or other orderly situation in the paper, as by their position best to express to the eye their relation or respect to one another. as contraries or correlatives one against the other, subordinates or appurtenances under their principle, which may serve as a kind of local memory. thus, in one paper, under the title mankind, may be placed, not confusedly, but in decent order, man, woman, child (boy, girl). in another paper, under the title body, may be written, in like convenient order, head (hair, skin, ear), face, forehead, eye (eyelid, eyebrow), cheek, nose (nostril), mouth (lip, chin), neck, throat, back, breast, side (right side, left side), belly, shoulders, arm (elbow, wrist, hand,--back, palm), finger (thumb, buckle, nail), thigh, knee, leg (shin, calf, ancle), foot (heel, sole), toe. and when he hath learned the import of words in each paper, let him write them in like manner, in distinct leaves or pages of a book, prepared for that purpose, to confirm his memory, and to have recourse to it upon occasion. in a third paper, you may give him the inward parts; as skull (brain), throat (windpipe, gullet), stomach, guts, heart, lungs, liver, spleen, kidney, bladder (urine), vein (blood), bone (marrow), flesh, fat, &c. in another paper, under the title beast, may be placed horse (stonehorse, gelding), mare (colt), bull (ox), cow, calf. sheep, ram (wether), ewe (lamb), hog, boar, sow, pig, dog, (mastiff, hound, greyhound, spaniel), bitch (whelp, puppy), hare, rabbit, cat, mouse, rat, &c. under the title bird, or fowl, put cock, capon, hen, chick, goose (gander), gosling, duck (drake), swan, crow, kite, lark, &c. under the title fish, put pike, eel, place, salmon, lobster, crawfish, &c. you may then put plants or vegetables under several heads or subdivisions of the same head; as tree (root, body, bark, bough, leaf, fruit), oak, ash, apple-tree, pear-tree, vine, &c. fruit: apple, pear, plum, cherry, grape, nut, orange, lemon. flower; rose, tulip, gilliflower herb, (weed), grass, corn, wheat, barley, rye, pea, bean. and the like of inanimates; as heaven, sun, moon, star, element, earth, water, air, fire; and under the title earth,--clay, sand, gravel, stone. metal; gold, silver, brass, copper, iron (steel), lead, tin (pewter), glass. under the title water, put sea, pond, river, stream; under that of air, put light, dark, mist, fog, cloud, wind, rain, hail, snow, thunder, lightning, rainbow. under that of fire; coal, flame, smoke, soot, ashes. under the title clothes, put woollen (cloth, stuff), linen (holland, lawn, lockarum), silk, (satin, velvet), hat, cap, band, doublet, breeches, coat, cloak, stocking, shoe, boot, shirt, petticoat, gown, &c. under the title house, put wall, roof, door, window, casement, room. under room, put shop, hall, parlour, dining-room, chamber, study, closet, kitchen, cellar, stable, &c. and under each of these, as distinct heads, the furniture or utensils belonging thereunto; with divisions and subdivisions, as there is occasion, which i forbear to mention, that i be not too prolix. and in like manner, from time to time, may be added more collections, or classes of names or words, conveniently digested, under distinct heads, and suitable distributions, to be written in distinct leaves or pages of his book in such order as may seem convenient. when he is furnished with a competent number of names, though not so many as i have mentioned, it will be seasonable to teach him under the titles singular and plural, the formation of plurals from singulars, by adding _s_, or _es_; as hand, hands; face, faces; fish, fishes, &c., with some few irregulars, as man, men; woman, women; foot, feet; tooth, teeth; mouse, mice; louse, lice; ox, oxen, &c. which, except the irregulars, will serve for possessives, to be after taught him, which are formed by their primitives by like addition of _s_ or _es_, except some few irregulars, as my, mine; thy, thine; our, ours; your, yours; his, her, hers; their, theirs, &c. and in all those and other like cases, it will be proper first to show him the particulars, and then the general title. then teach him in another page or paper, the particles, a, an, the, this, that, these, those. and the pronouns, i, me, my, mine, thou, thee, thy, thine, we, us, our, ours, ye, you, your, yours, he, him, his, she, her, hers, it, its, they, them, their, shoes, heirs, who, whom, whose. then under the titles substantive, adjective, teach him to connect these, as my hand, your head, his foot, his feet, her arm, her arms, our hats, their john's coat, william's band, &c. and in order to furnish him with more adjectives, under the title colours, you may place black, white, gray, green, blue, yellow, red, &c., and having showed the particulars, let him know that these are called colours. the like for taste and smell; as sweet, bitter, sour, stink. and for hearing, sound, noise, word. then for touch or feeling, hot, warm, cold, cool, wet, moist, dry, hard, soft, tough, brittle, heavy, light, &c. from whence you may furnish him with more examples of adjectives with substantives; as white bread, brown bread, green grass, soft cheese, hard cheese, black hat, my black hat, &c. and then inverting the order, substantive, adjective, with the verb copulative between; as silver is white, gold is yellow, lead is heavy, wood is light, snow is white, ink is black, flesh is soft, bone is hard, i am sick, i am not well, &c., which will begin to give him some notion of syntax. in like manner when substantive and substantive are so connected; as gold is a metal, a rose is a flower, they are men, they are women, horses are beasts, geese are fowls, larks are birds, &c. then as those before relate to quality, you may give him some other words relating to quantity. as long, short, broad, narrow; thick, thin; high, tall, low; deep, shallow, great, big, small (little), much, little; many, few, full, empty; whole, part, piece; all, some, none, strong, weak, quick, slow, equal, unequal, bigger, less. then words of figure; as straight, crooked, plain, bowed, concave, hollow, convex; round, square, three-square, sphere, globe, bowl, cube, die, upright, sloping, leaning forward, leaning backward, like, unlike. of gesture; as stand, lie, sit, kneel, sleep. of motion; as move, stir, rest, walk, go, come, run, leap, ride, fall, rise, swim, sink, drawn, slide, creep, crawl, fly, pull, draw, thrust, throw, bring, fetch, carry. then words relating to time; place, number, weight, measure, money, &c., are, in convenient time, to be showed him distinctly; for which the teacher, according to his discretion, may take a convenient season. as likewise the time of the day; the days of the week, the days of the month, the months of the year, and other things relating to the almanack, which he will quickly be capable to understand, if once methodically shown him. as likewise the names and situation of places and countries, which are convenient for him to know; which may be orderly written in his book, and showed him in the map of london, england, europe, the world, &c. but these may be done at leisure, as likewise the practice of arithmetic, and other like pieces of learning. in the mean time, after the concord of substantive and adjective, he is to be showed by convenient examples, that of the nominative and verb; as, for instance, i go, you see, he sits, they stand, the fire burns, the sun shines, the wind blows, the rain falls, the water runs, and the like, with the titles in the top nominative verb. after this, under the titles nominative verb, accusative, give him examples of verbs transitive; as i see you, you see me, the fire burns the wood, the boy makes the fire, the cook roasts the meat, the butler lays the cloth, we eat our dinner. or even with a double accusative; as, you teach me writing or to write, john teacheth me to dance, thomas, tell me a tale, &c. after this you may teach him the flexion or conjugation of the verb, or what is equivalent thereunto; for in our english tongue each verb hath but two tenses, the present and the preter; two participles, the active and the passive; all the rest is performed by auxiliaries, which auxiliaries have no more tenses than the other verbs. those auxiliaries are, do, did, will, would, shall, should, may, might, can, could, must, ought, to, have, had, am, be, was. and if by examples you can insinuate the signification of these few words, you have taught him the whole flexion of the verb. and here it will be convenient, once for all, to write him out a full paradigm of some one verb, suppose 'to see,' through all those auxiliaries. the verb itself hath but these four words to be learned, see, saw, seeing, seen, save that after thou, in the second person singular, in both tenses, we add est, and in the third person singular, in the present tense, eth or es, or instead thereof, st, th, s, and so in all verbs. then to the auxiliaries, do, did, will, would, shall, should, may, might, can, could, must, ought, to, we join the indefinite see. and after have, had, am, be, was, the passive particle seen, and so for all other verbs. but the auxiliary, 'am,' or 'be,' is somewhat irregular in a double form. am, art, is; plural are; was, wast, was; plural were. be, beest, be; plural be; were, wert, were; plural were. be, am, was, being, been. which, attended with the other auxiliaries, make us the whole passive voice. all verbs, without exceptions, in the active participle, are formed by adding ing, as see, seeing; teach, teaching, &c. the preter tense and the participle are formed regularly, by adding ed, but are often subject to contractions and other irregularities, sometimes the same in both, sometimes different, and therefore it is convenient here to give a table of verbs, especially the most usual, for those three cases, which may at once teach their signification and formation; as boil, boiled; roast, roasted, roasted; bake, baked, baked, &c.; teach, taught, taught; bring, brought, brought; buy, bought, bought, &c.; see, saw, seen; give, gave, given; take, took, taken; forsake, forsook, forsaken; write, wrote, written, &c.; with many more fit to be learned. the verbs being thus dispatched, he is then to learn the prepositions, wherein lies the whole regimen of the noun. for diversity of cases we have none, the force of which is to be insinuated by convenient examples, suited to their different significations; as for instance, _of_ a piece _of_ bread, a pint _of_ wine, the colour _of_ a pot, the colour _of_ gold, a ring _of_ gold, a cup _of_ silver, the mayor _of_ london, the longest _of_ all, &c. and in like manner, for, off, on, upon, to, unto, till, until, from, at, in, within, out, without, into, out of; about, over, under; above, below; between, among; before, behind, after; for, by, with, through, against, concerning; and by this time he will be pretty well enabled to understand a single sentence. in the last place, he is in like manner to be taught conjunctions, which serve to connect not words only, but sentences; as and, also; likewise, either or whether; neither, nor, if, then, why, wherefore, because, therefore, but, though, yet, &c.; and these illustrated by convenient examples in each case, as, _because_ i am cold, _therefore_ i go to the fire, _that_ i may be warm, _for_ it is cold weather. _if_ it were fair, _then_ it would be good walking, but however, _though_ it rain, _yet_ i must go, _because_ i promised; with other like instances. and by this time his book, if well furnished with plenty of words, and those well digested under several heads, and in good order, and well recruited from time to time as new words occur, will serve him in the nature of a dictionary and grammar. and in case the deaf person be otherwise of a good natural capacity, and the teacher of a good sagacity, by this method, proceeding gradually step by step, you may, with diligence and due application of teacher and learner, in a year's time, or thereabouts, perceive a greater progress than you would expect, and a good foundation laid for farther instruction in matters of religion and other knowledge which may be taught by books. it will be convenient all along to have pen, ink, and paper, ready at hand, to write down in a word what you signify to him by signs, and cause him to write, or show how to write what he signifies by signs, which way of signifying their mind by signs deaf persons are often very good at; and we must endeavour to learn their language, if i may so call it, in order to teach them ours, by showing what words answer to their signs. it will be convenient, also, as you go along, after some convenient progress made, to express, in as plain language as may be, the import of some of the tables; as for instance:-- the head is the highest part of the body, the feet the lowest part; the face is the fore part of the head, the forehead is over the eyes, the cheeks are under the eyes, the nose is between the cheeks, the mouth is under the nose and above the chin, &c. and such plain discourse put into writing, and particularly explained, will teach him by degrees to understand plain sentences; and like advantages a sagacious teacher may take, as occasion offers itself from time to time. this extract is mostly taken out of the ingenious dr. wallis, and lying hid in that little book, which is but rarely inquired after and too scarcely known, died in a manner with that great man. and as he designed it for the general use of mankind that laboured under the misfortune of losing those two valuable talents of hearing and speaking, i thought it might not be amiss (in the life of so particular a dumb person as i am writing) to give them this small but particular fragment of grammar and syntax. it is exactly adjusted to the english tongue; because such are the persons with whom the doctor had to deal, and such the persons whose benefit alone i consult in this treatise. one of the chief persons who was taught by dr. wallis was mr. alexander popham, brother-in-law (if i am not mistaken) to the present earl of oxford; and he was a very great proficient in this way; and though he was born deaf and dumb, understood the language so well as to give under his hand, many rare indications of a masterly genius. the uncle of his present sardinian majesty, as i have been credibly informed, had the want of the same organs, and yet was a perfect statesman, and wrote in five or six different languages elegantly well. bishop burnet, in his book of travels, tells us a wonderful story, almost incredible; but tells it as a passage that deserves our belief. it is concerning a young lady at genoa, who was not only deaf and dumb, but blind, too, it seems, into the bargain; and this lady, he assures us as a truth, could, by putting her hand on her sister's mouth, know everything she said. but to return back to england. we have many rare instances of our own countrymen, the principal of whom i shall mention, as their names occur to my memory. sir john gawdy, sir thomas knotcliff, sir ---- gostwick, sir henry lydall, and mr. richard lyns of oxford, were all of this number, and yet men eminent in their several capacities, for understanding many authors, and expressing themselves in writing with wonderful facility. in hatton garden, there now lives a miracle of wit and good nature, i mean the daughter of mr. loggin, who, though born deaf and dumb, (and she has a brother who has the same impediments), yet writes her mind down upon any subject with such acuteness as would amaze learned men themselves and put many students that have passed for wits, to the blush, to see themselves so far surpassed by a woman amidst that deficiency of the common organs. if anybody speaks a word distinctly, this lady will, by observing narrowly the motion of the speaker's lips pronounce the word afterwards very intelligibly. as there are a great many families in england and ireland that have several, and some even have five or six dumb persons belonging to them; and as a great many more believe it impossible for persons born deaf and dumb to write and read, and have thence taken occasion to say and assert that mr. campbell could certainly speak, i could never think it a digression in the history of this man's life to set down the grammar by which he himself was taught, and which he has taught others (two of which scholars of his are boys in this town), partly to confute the slander made against him, and partly for the help of others dumb and deaf, whose parents may by these examples be encouraged to get them taught. chapter iv. young duncan campbell returns with his mother to edinburgh. the earl of argyle's overthrow. the ruin of mr. archibald campbell and his death. young duncan's practice in prediction at edinburgh while yet a boy. our young boy, now between six and seven years of age, half a highlander and half a laplander, delighted in wearing a little bonnet and plaid, thinking it looked very manly in his countrymen, and his father, as soon as he was out of his hanging sleeves, and left off his boy's vest, indulged him with that kind of dress, which is truly antique and heroic. in this early part of his nonage he was brought to edinburgh by his mother-in-law, where i myself grew afresh acquainted with her, his father being then but lately dead, just after the civil commotion, and off and on, i have known him ever since, and conversed with him very frequently during that space of time, which is now about three or four and thirty years, so that whatever i say concerning him in the future pages i shall relate to the reader from my own certain knowledge, which, as i resolved to continue anonymous, may, perhaps, not have so much weight and authority as if i had prefixed my name to the account. be that as it will, there are hundreds of living witnesses that will justify each action i relate, and his own future actions while he lives will procure belief and credit to the precedent ones, which i am going to record; so that if many do remain infidels to my relations, and will not allow them exact (the fate of many as credible and more important historians than myself), i can however venture to flatter myself that greater will be the number of those who will have a faith in my writings than of those who will reject my accounts as incredible. having just spoke of the decease of mr. archibald campbell, the father of our young duncan campbell, it will not be amiss here to observe how true the predictions of his lapland mother were, which arose from second-sight, according to the notices given by the child's father, to his grandfather, in his letter from lapland, even before it was born, which shows that the infant held this second-sighted power, or occult faculty of divination, even by inheritance. in the year , the duke of monmouth and the earl of argyle sailed out of the ports of holland without any obstruction, the earl of argyle in may; with three ships for scotland, and monmouth in june, with the same number for england. the earl setting out first, was also the first at landing. argyle having attempted to land in the north of scotland, and being disappointed by the vigilance of the bishop of the orcades, landed in the west, and encamped at dunstaffnage castle, in the province of lorn, which had belonged to him. he omitted nothing that might draw over to him all the malcontents in the kingdom, whom he thought more numerous than they afterwards appeared to be. he dispersed about his declarations, wherein, after protesting that he had taken up arms only in defence of religion and the laws, against an unjust usurper (so he styled james the second), he invited all good protestants, and such scotch as would assert their liberty, to join him against a prince, he said, who was got into the throne to ruin the reformation, and to bring in popery and arbitrary power. next he sent letters to those he thought his friends, among whom was mr. archibald campbell, who, according to the vast deference payed by the scots to their chief, joined him, though in his heart of quite a different principle, to call them to his assistance. he detached two of his sons to make inroads in the neighbourhood, and compel some by threats, others by mighty promises, to join him. all his contrivances could not raise him above three thousand men, with whom he encamped in the isle of bute, where he was soon, in a manner besieged by the earl of dumbarton, with the king's forces, and several other bodies, commanded by the duke of gordon, the marquis of athol, the earl of arran, and other great men, who came from all parts to quench the fire before it grew to a head. the earl of argyle being obliged to quit a post he could not make good, went over into a part of the country of his own name, where, having hastily fortified a castle called ellingrey, he put into it the arms and ammunition taken out of his ships, which lay at anchor under the cannon of a fort he erected near that place. there his rout began; for going out from the castle with his forces to make an incursion, one of his parties was defeated by the marquis of athol, who slew four hundred of his men; and captain hamilton, who attacked his ships with some of the king's, and took them without any resistance. the earl of dumbarton advancing towards him, at the same time, by long marches, while he endeavoured to secure himself by rivers, surprised him passing the clyde in the village of killern, as he was marching towards lenox. dumbarton coming upon them at night, would have stayed till the next day to attack the rebels, but they gave him not so much time, for they passed the river in the night, in such confusion, that being overcome by fear, they dispersed as soon as over. argyle could scarce rally so many as would make him a small guard, which was soon scattered again; dumbarton having passed the river, and divided his forces to pursue those that fled. argyle had taken guides to conduct him to galloway; but they mistaking the way, and leading him into a bog, most of those that still followed him quitted their horses, every man shifting for himself. argyle himself was making back alone towards the clyde, when two resolute servants, belonging to an officer in the king's army meeting him, though they knew him not, bid him surrender. he fired at and missed them; but they took better aim, and wounded him with a pistol ball. then the earl drawing his two pistols out of the holsters, quitted his horse, that was quite tired, and took the river. a country fellow, who came with those two, that had first assaulted him, pursued him with a pistol in his hand; the earl would have fired one of his, but the flint failing he was dangerously wounded in the head by the peasant. he discovered himself as he fell senseless, crying out. unfortunate argyle. this nobleman, how far soever he may be thought misled in principle, was certainly in his person a very brave and a very gallant hero. they made haste to draw him out and bring him to himself; after which, being delivered up to the officers, the erring, unfortunate great man, was conducted to edinburgh and there beheaded. many gentlemen that followed the fortunes of this great man, though not in his death, they shared in all the other calamities attending his overthrow. they most of them fled into the remotest isles and the obscurest corners of all scotland; contented with the saving of their lives; they grew exiles and banished men of their own making, and abdicated their estates before they were known to be forfeited, because, for fear of being informed against by the common fellows they commanded, they durst not appear to lay their claims. of this number was mr. archibald campbell, and this new disaster wounded him deep into the very heart, after so many late misadventures, and sent him untimely to the grave. he perfectly pined away and wasted; he was six months dying inch by inch, and the difference between his last breath and his way of breathing during all that time, was only, that he expired with a greater sigh than he ordinarily fetched every time when he drew his breath. everything the lapland lady had predicted so long before, being thus come to pass, we may the less admire at the wonders performed by her son, when we consider this faculty of divination to be so derived to him from her, and grown as it were hereditary. our young prophet, who had taught most of his little companions to converse with him by finger, was the head at every little pastime and game they played at. marbles, which he used to call children's playing at bowls, yielded him mighty diversion; and he was so dexterous an artist at shooting that little alabaster globe from between the end of his forefinger and the knuckle of his thumb, that he seldom missed hitting plum, as the boys call it, the marble he aimed at, though at the distance of two or three yards. the boys always when they played coveted to have him on their side, and by hearing that he foretold other things, used to consult him, when they made their little matches, which were things of great importance in their thoughts, who should get the victory. he used commonly to leave these trifles undecided, but if ever he gave his opinion in these trivial affairs, the persons fared well by their consultation, for his judgment about them was like a petty oracle, and the end always answered his prediction. but i would have my reader imagine, that though our duncan campbell was himself but a boy, he was not consulted only by boys; his penetration and insight into things of a high nature, got air, and being attested by credible witnesses won him the esteem of persons of mature years and discretion. if a beautiful young virgin languished for a husband, or a widow's mind was in labour to have a second venture of infants by another spouse; if a housekeeper had lost anything belonging to her master, still little duncan campbell was at hand; he was the oracle to be applied to, and the little chalked circle, where he was diverting himself with his play-fellows near the cross at edinburgh, was frequented with as much solicitation, and as much credit, as the tripos of apollo was at delphos in ancient times. it was highly entertaining to see a young blooming beauty come and slily pick up the boy from his company, carry him home with as much eagerness as she would her gallant, because she knew she should get the name of her gallant out of him before he went, and bribe him with a sugarplum to write down the name of a young scotch peer in a green ribbon that her mouth watered after. how often after he has been wallowing in the dust, have i myself seen nice squeamish widows help him up in their gilded chariots, and give him a pleasant ride with them, that he might tell them they should not long lie alone; little duncan campbell had as much business upon his hands as the parsons of all the parishes in edinburgh. he commonly was consulted, and named the couples before the minister joined them; thus he grew a rare customer to the toyshop, from whence he most usually received fees and rewards for his advice. if lady betty such a one was foretold that she should certainly have beau such a one in marriage, then little duncan was sure to have a hobby-horse from the toyshop, as a reward for the promised fop. if such a widow, that was ugly, but very rich, was to be pushed hard for as she pretended, though in reality easily won, little duncan, upon insuring her such a captain, or such a lieutenant-colonel, was sure to be presented from the same child's warehouse, with a very handsome drum, and a silvered trumpet. if a sempstress had an itching desire for a parson, she would, upon the first assurance of him, give the little apollo a pasteboard temple, or church, finely painted, and a ring of bells into the bargain, from the same toy-office. if a housekeeper lost any plate, the thief was certain to be catched, provided she took little master into the store room, and asked him the question, after she had given him his bellyful of sweetmeats. neither were the women only his consulters; the grave merchants, who were anxious for many ventures at sea, applied to the boy for his opinion of their security, and they looked upon his opinion to be as safe as the insurance office for ships. if he but told them, though the ship was just set sail, and a tempest rose just after on the ocean, that it would have a successful voyage, gain the port designed, and return home safe laden with the exchange of traffic and merchandize, they dismissed all their fears, banished all their cares, set their hearts at ease, and, safe in his opinion, enjoyed a calm of mind amidst a storm of weather. i myself knew one count cog, an eminent gamester, who was a person so far from being of a credulous disposition, that he was an unbeliever in several points of religion, and the next door to an infidel; yet, as much as he was a stranger to faith, he was mastered and overpowered so far in his incredulity by the strange events which he had seen come frequently to pass from the predictions of this child, that he had commonly daily access to this boy to learn his more adverse and more prosperous hours of gaming. at first indeed he would try, when the child foretold him his ill fortune, whether it would prove true, and relying upon the mere hazard and turn of the die, he had always, as he observed, a run of ill luck on those forbidden days, as he never failed of good if he chose the fortunate hours directed by the boy. one time above all the rest, just before he was departing from edinburgh, and when the season of gaming was almost over--most persons of wealth and distinction withdrawing for pleasure to their seats in the country--he came to young duncan campbell to consult, and was extremely solicitous to know how happily or unluckily he should end that term, as we may call it, of the gamester's weighty business, viz., play, there being a long vacation likely to ensue, when the gaming table would be empty, and the box and dice lie idle and cease to rattle. the boy encouraged him so well with his predictions on this occasion, that count cog went to the toyshop, brought him from thence a very fine ivory t totum, as children call it, a pretty set of painted and gilded little ninepins and a bowl, and a large bag of marbles and alloys; and what do you think the gamester got by this little present and the prediction of the boy? why, without telling the least tittle of falsehood, within the space of the last week's play, the gains of count cog really amounted to no less than , _l_. sterling neat money. having mentioned these persons of so many different professions by borrowed names, and perhaps in a manner seemingly ludicrous, i would not have my reader from hence take occasion of looking on my account as fabulous. if i was not to make use of borrowed names, but to tell the real characters and names of the persons, i should do injury to those old friends of his who first gave credit to our young seer, while i am endeavouring to gain him the credit and esteem of new ones, in whose way it has not yet happened to consult him. for many persons are very willing to ask such questions as the foregoing ones; but few or none willing to have the public told they asked them; though they succeeded in their wish, and were amply satisfied in their curiosity. i have represented them perhaps in a ludicrous manner, because though they are mysterious actions they are still the actions of a boy, and as the rewards he received for his advices did really and truly consist of such toys as i mentioned, so could they not be treated of in a more serious manner, without the author's incurring a magisterial air of pedantry, and showing a mind, as it were, of being mighty grave and sententious about trifles. there are, however, some things of greater weight and importance done by him in a more advanced stage of life, which will be delivered to the public with that exactitude and gravity which becomes them; and in some of those relations the names of some persons that are concerned shall be printed, because it will not at all be injurious to them, or because i have their leave, and they are still living to testify what i shall relate. in the mean time, as the greatest part of his nonage was spent in predicting almost innumerable things, which are all, however, reducible to the general heads above mentioned, i will not tire the reader with any particulars; but instead of doing that, before i come to show his power of divination, in the more active parts of his life, and when after removing from edinburgh to london, he at last made it his public profession; i shall account how such divinations may be made, and divert the reader with many rare examples, taken from several faithful and undoubted historians, of persons who have done the like before him, some in one way, and some in another; though in this he seems to be peculiar, and to be, if i may be allowed the expression, a species by himself, alone in the talent of prediction; that he has collected within his own individual capacity all the methods which others severally used, and with which they were differently and singly gifted in their several ways of foreseeing and foretelling. this art of prediction is not attainable any otherwise, than by these three ways; first, it is done by the company of familiar spirits and genii, which are of two sorts; some good and some bad; who tell the gifted person the things of which he informs other people. secondly, it is performed by the second-sight, which is very various, and differs in most of the possessors, it being but a very little in some, very extensive and constant in others; beginning with some in their infancy, and leaving them before they come to years; happening to others in a middle age, to others again in an old age, that never had it before, and lasting only for a term of years, and now and then for a very short period of time; and in some, intermitting, like fits as it were, of vision, that leave them for a time, and then return to be as strong in them as ever, and it being in a manner hereditary to some families, whose children have it from their infancy, without intermission, to a great old age, and even to the time of their death, which they often foretell before it comes to pass, to a day, nay, even to an hour. thirdly, it is attained by the diligent study of the lawful part of the art of magic. before i give the reader an account, as i shall do in three distinct discourses, first, concerning the intercourse which familiar spirits, viz., the good and bad genii, have had and continue to have to a great degree with some select parts of mankind; secondly, concerning the wonderful and almost miraculous power of a second-sight, with which many, beyond all controversy, have been extraordinarily but visibly gifted; and, thirdly, concerning the pitch of perfection to which the magic science has been carried and promoted by some adepts in that mysterious art; i will premise a few particulars about the genii which attended our little duncan campbell, and about the second-sight which he had when yet a child, and when we may much more easily believe that the wonders he performed and wrote of, must have been rather brought about by the intervention of such genii and the mediation of such a sight, than that he could have invented such fables concerning them, and compassed such predictions as seem to want their assistance, by the mere dint of a child's capacity. one day, i remember, when he was about nine years of age, going early to the house where he and his mother lived, and it being before his mother was stirring, i went into little duncan campbell's room to divert myself with him, i found him sitting up in his bed with his eyes broad open, but as motionless as if he had been asleep, or even, if it had not been for a lively beautiful colour which the little pretty fair silver-haired boy always had in his cheeks, as if he had been quite dead; he did not seem so much as to breathe; the eyelids of him were so fixed and immoveable, that the eyelashes did not so much as once shake, which the least motion imaginable must agitate; not to say that he was like a person in an ecstacy, he was at least in what we commonly call a brown study, to the highest degree, and for the largest space of time i ever knew. i, who had been frequently informed by people who have been present at the operations of second-sighted persons, that at the sight of a vision the eyelids of the person are erected, and the eyes continue staring till the object vanishes; i, i say, sat myself softly down on his bed-side, and with a quiet amazement observed him, avoiding diligently any motion that might give him the least disturbance, or cause in him any avocation or distraction of mind from the business he was so intent upon. i remarked that he held his head sideways, with his mouth wide open, and in a listening posture, and that after so lively a manner, as, at first general thought, made me forget his deafness, and plainly imagine he heard something, till the second thought of reflection brought into my mind the misfortune that shut up all passage for any sound through his ears. after a steadfast gaze, which lasted about seven minutes, he smiled, and stretched his arms as one recovering from a fit of indolence, and rubbed his eyes; then turning towards me, he made the sign of a salute, and hinted to me, upon his fingers, his desire for pen, ink, and paper, which i reached him from a little desk that stood at his bed's feet. placing the paper upon his knees, he wrote me the following lines, which together with my answers i preserve by me, for their rarity, to this very day, and which i have transcribed word for word, as they form a little series of dialogue. _duncan campbell._ i am sorry i cannot stay with you; but i shall see my pretty youth and my lamb by and by, in the fields, near a little coppice or grove, where i go often to play with them, and i would not lose their company for the whole world; for they and i are mighty familiar together, and the boy tells me everything that gets me my reputation among the ladies and nobility, and you must keep it secret. _my question._ i will be sure to keep it secret; but how do you know you are to meet them there to-day? did the little boy appoint you? _duncan campbell._ yes, he did, and signified that he had several things to predict to me concerning people, that he foreknew would come to me the week following to ask me questions. _my question._ but what was you staring at when i came in? _duncan campbell._ why, at that little boy that goes along with the lamb i speak of, and it was then he made me the appointment. _my question._ how does he do it? does he write? _duncan campbell._ no, he writes sometimes, but oftener he speaks with his fingers, and mighty swift; no man can do it so quick, or write half so soon; he has a little bell in his hand, like that which my mother makes me a sign to shake when she wants the servants: with that he tickles my brain strangely, and gives me an incredible delight of feeling in the inside of my head; he usually wakes me with it in the morning when he comes to make me an appointment. i fancy it is what you call hearing, which makes me mighty desirous i could hear in your way; it is sweeter to the feeling, methinks, than anything is to the taste; it is just as if my head was tickled to death, as my nurse used to tickle my sides; but it is a different feeling, for it makes things like little strings tremble in my temples and behind my ears. now i remember, i will tell you what it is like, that makes me believe it is like your hearing, and that strange thing which you that can speak, call sound or noise: because, when i was at church with my mother, who told me the bells could be heard ringing a mile off, as i was kneeling on the bench, and leaning over the top of the pew and gnawing the board, every time the man pulled the rope, i thought all my head beat as if it would come to pieces, but yet it pleased me methought, rather than pained me, and i would be always gnawing the board when the man pulled the rope, and i told my mother the reason: the feeling of that was something like the little bell, but only that made my head throb, as if it would break, and this tickles me, and makes, as it were, little strings on the back of my ears dance and tremble like anything; is not that like your way of hearing? if it be, it is a sweet thing to hear; it is more pleasant than to see the finest colours in the world; it is something like being tickled in the nose with a feather till one sneezes, or like the feeling after one strikes the leg when it has been numb, or asleep, only with this difference, that those two ways give a pain, and the other a pleasure. i remember, too, when i had a great cold, for about two months, i had a feeling something like it, but that was blunt, dull, confused, and troublesome. is not this like what you call hearing? _my question._--it is the finest kind of hearing, my dear: it is what we call music. but what sort of a boy is that that meets you? and what sort of a lamb? _duncan campbell._ oh! though they are like other boys and other lambs which you see, they are a thousand times prettier and finer? you never saw such a boy nor such a lamb in your lifetime. _my question._ how big is he? as big as you are? and what sort of a boy is he? _duncan campbell._ he is a little little pretty boy, about as tall as my knee, his face is as white as snow, and so are his little hands; his cheeks are as red as a cherry, and so are his lips; and when he breathes, it makes the air more perfumed than my mother's sweet bags that she puts among the linen; he has got a crown of roses, cowslips, and other flowers upon his head, such as the maids gather in may; his hair is like fine silver threads, and shine like the beams of the sun; he wears a loose veil down to his feet, that is as blue as the sky in a clear day, and embroidered with spangles, that look like the brightest stars in the night; he carries a silver bell in one hand, and a book and pencil in the other, and he and the little lamb will dance and leap about me in a ring as high as my head; the lamb has got a little silver collar with nine little bells upon it; and every little piece of wool upon its back, that is as white as milk, is tied up all round it in puffs, like a little miss's hair, with ribbons of all colours; and round its head, too, are little roses and violets stuck very thick into the wool that grows upon its forehead, and behind and between its ears, in the shape of a diadem. they first meet me dancing thus; and after they have danced some time, the little boy writes down wonderful things in his book, which i write down in mine; then they dance again, till he rings his bell, and then they are gone all of a sudden, i know not where; but i feel the tinkling in the inside of my head caused by the bell less and less, till i don't feel it at all, and then i go home, read over my lesson in my book, and when i have it by heart, i burn the written leaves, according as the little boy bids me, or he would let me have no more. but i hear the little bell again, the little boy is angry with me, he pulled me twice by the ear, and i would not displease him for anything, so i must get up and go immediately to the joy and delight of my life. i told him he might, if he would promise me to tell me farther another time; he said he would, if i would keep it secret. i told him i would, and so we parted; though just before he went, he said he smelt some venison, and he was sure they would shortly have some for dinner; and nothing was so sure as that, my man had my orders to bring a side of venison to me the next day to mrs. campbell's, for i had been hunting, and came thither from the death of a deer that morning; and intended, as usual, to make a stay there for two or three days. there are, i know, many men of severe principles, and who are more strict, grave, and formal in their manner of thinking, than they are wise, who will be apt to judge of these relations as things merely fabulous and chimerical, and not contented with being disbelievers by themselves, will labour to insinuate into others this pernicious notion, that it is a sign of infirmity and weakness in the head to yield them credit. but though i could easily argue these sir gravities down, though a sentence or two would do their business, put them beyond the power of replying, and strike them dumb, yet do i think it not worth my while; their greatest and most wonted objection against these eudemons and kakodemons, being, that it arises all from the work of fancy, in persons of a melancholic blood. if we consider the nature of this child's dialogue with me, will it not be more whimsically strange and miraculous, to say that a child of nine years' old had only a fancy of such things as these, of which it had never heard anybody give an account, and that it could, by the mere strength of imagination, predict such things as really after came to pass, than it is, when it does so strangely predict things, to believe the child does it in the manner itself owns it does, which is by the intervention of a good demon, or a happy genius. departing, therefore, from these singular and wise men's opinions, who will believe nothing excellent can happen to others, which it has not been their lot to enjoy a share of, i shall take my farewell hastily of them, without losing my own time or theirs, in the words of the ingenious monsieur le clerc: _acerbos homines non moror, indignos quippe, qui hæc studia tractent, aut quorum, judicii ulla ratio habeatur._ i shall rather see how far these things have lain open to the eyes of, and been explained by the ancient sages; i will relate who among them were happy in their genii, and who among the moderns, whose examples may be authorities for our belief; i will set down as clearly as i can what perception men have had of genii or spirits by the sense of seeing; what by the sense of hearing; what by the sense of feeling, touching, or tasting; and in fine, what perception others have had of these genii by all the senses, what by dreams, and what by magic, a thing rarely to be met with at once in any single man, and which seems particular to the child, who was the subject of our last little historical account. when i have brought examples and the opinions of wise philosophers, and the evidence of undeniable witnesses, which one would think sufficient to evince persons of the commerce men have with spirits, if they were not past all sense of conviction; i shall, not so much to corroborate what i say, as to shame some wiseacres, who would by their frail reason scan all things, and pretend to solve the mysteries ascribed to spirits, as facts merely natural, and who would banish from the thoughts of men all belief of spirits whatsoever, i shall, i say, in order to put to shame these wiseacres, if they have any shame left, produce the opinions of the fathers as divines, show the doctrines of spirits in general to be consistent with christianity, that they are delivered in the scripture and by christian tradition, in which, if they will not acquiesce, i shall leave them to the labyrinth of their own wild opinions, which in the end will so perplex their judgments of things, that they will be never able to extricate themselves; and these different heads will be the subject of the chapter ensuing; and will, or i am greatly mistaken, form both an instructive, edifying, and entertaining discourse, for a reader really and truly intelligent, and that has a good taste and relish for sublime things. chapter v. an argument proving the perception which men have, and have had, by all the senses, as seeing, hearing, etc., of demons, genii, or familiar spirits. it is said in the ninth book of the morals of aristotle, it is better to come at the probable knowledge of some things above us in the heavens, than to be capable of giving many demonstrations relating to things here below. this is no doubt an admirable proposition, and speaks the lofty aims of that sublime mind from whence it proceeded. among all the disquisitions in this kind, none seem to me more excellent than those which treat concerning the genii that attend upon men, and guide them in the actions of life. a genius, or demon, of the good kind, is a sort of mediate being, between human and divine, which gives the mind of man a pleasant conjunction with angelic and celestial faculties, and brings down to earth a faint participation of the joys of heaven. that there have been such fortunate attendants upon wise men, we have many rare instances. they have been ascribed to socrates, aristotle, plotinus, porphyrius, iamblicus, chicus, scaliger, and cardan. the most celebrated of all these ancients, was socrates; and as for his having a genius, or demon, we have the testimonies of plato, xenophon, and antisthenes, his contemporaries, confirmed by laertius, plutarch, maximus tyrius, dion chrysostomus, cicero, apuleius, ficinus, and others; many of the moderns, besides tertullian, origen, clemens alexandrinus, austin, and others; and socrates himself, in plato's theage, says, by some divine lot i have a certain demon which has followed me from my childhood as an oracle; and in the same place intimates that the way he gained his instruction, was by hearing the demon's voice. nothing is certainly so easy as for men to be able to contradict things, though never so well attested, with such an air of truth as to make the truth of the history doubted by others as well as themselves, where no demonstrative proof can be brought to convince them. this has been the easy task of those who object against the demon of socrates; but when no demonstrative proof is to be had on either side, does not wisdom incline us to lean to the most probable? let us then consider whether the evidences are not more credible, and witnesses of such a thing are not persons of more authority than these men are, who vouchsafe to give no reason but their own incredulity, for maintaining the contrary, and whether those, therefore, by the right rule of judging, ought not much sooner than these, to gain over our assent to their assertions? we will, however, laying aside the histories of those ancient times, the sense whereof, by various readings and interpretations being put upon the words, is rendered obscure and almost unintelligible, descend to more modern relations, the facts whereof shall be placed beyond doubt, by reason of the evidences we will bring to attest them, and shall consequently prove the perception men have of spirits, or genii, by every sense. section i. we will first begin as to the perception of spirits by the sight. mr. glanvil, in his collections of relations, for proving apparitions, spirits, &c., tells us of an irishman that had like to have been carried away by spirits, and of the ghost of a man, who had been seven years dead, that brought a medicine to his bed-side. the relation is thus:-- a gentleman in ireland, near to the earl of orrery's, sending his butler one afternoon to buy cards, as he passed a field, to his wonder, he espied a company of people sitting round a table, with a deal of good cheer before them, in the midst of the field; and he, going up towards them, they all arose and saluted him, and desired him to sit down with them; but one of them whispered these words in his ear: do nothing this company invites you to. hereupon he refused to sit down at the table, and immediately table and all that belonged to it were gone, and the company are now dancing and playing upon musical instruments. and the butler being desired to join himself with them, but he refusing this also, they all fall to work, and he not being to be prevailed with to accompany them in working, any more than in feasting or dancing, they all disappeared, and the butler is now alone; but instead of going forwards, home he returns, as fast as he could drive, in a great consternation; and was no sooner entered his master's door, but he fell down and lay some time senseless, but coming again to himself, he related to his master what had passed. the night following, there comes one of his company to his bed-side, and tells him, that if he offered to stir out of the doors the next day, he would be carried away. hereupon he kept within; but towards the evening, having need to make water, he adventured to put one foot over the threshold (several standing by), which he had no sooner done but they espied a rope cast about his middle; and the poor man was hurried away with great swiftness, they following him as fast as they could, but could not overtake him; at length they espied an horseman coming towards him, and made signs to him to stop the man whom he saw coming near him, and both ends of the rope, but nobody drawing; when they met he laid hold of one end of the rope, and immediately had a smart blow given him over his arm with the other end; but by this means the man was stopped, and the horseman brought him back with him. the earl of orrery hearing of these strange passages, sent to the master to desire him to send this man to his house, which he accordingly did; and the morning following, or quickly after, he told the earl that his spectre had been with him again, and assured him that that day he should most certainly be carried away, and that no endeavours should avail to the saving of him; upon this he was kept in a large room with a considerable number of persons to guard him, among whom was the famous stroaker, mr. greatrix, who was a neighbour. there were, besides other persons of quality, two bishops in the house at the same time, who were consulted concerning the making use of a medicine, the spectre or ghost prescribed, of which mention will be made anon, but they determined on the negative. till part of the afternoon was spent, all was quiet; but at length he was perceived to rise from the ground, whereupon mr. greatrix and another lusty man clapped their arms over his shoulders, one of them before him, and the other behind, and weighed him down with all their strength; but he was forcibly taken up from them, and they were too weak to keep their hold, and for a considerable time he was carried into the air, to and fro over their heads, several of the company still running under him to prevent his receiving hurt if he should fall; at length he fell, and was caught before he came to the ground, and had by that means no hurt. all being quiet till bed-time, my lord ordered two of his servants to lie with him, and the next morning he told his lordship, that his spectre was again with him, and brought a wooden dish with grey liquor in it, and bid him drink it off; at the first sight of the spectre he said he endeavoured to awake his bed-fellows; but it told him, that that endeavour should be in vain; and that he had no cause to fear him, he being his friend, and he that at first gave him the good advice in the field, which had he not followed, he had been before now perfectly in the power of the company he saw there; he added, that he concluded it was impossible but that he should have been carried away the day before, there being so strong a combination against him; but now he could assure him there would be no more attempts of that nature, but he being troubled with two sorts of sad fits, he had brought that liquor to cure him of them, and bid him drink it; he peremptorily refusing, the spectre was angry, and upbraided him with great disingenuity, but told him, however, he had a kindness for him, and that if he would take plantain juice he should be well of one sort of fits, but he should carry the other to his grave; the poor man having by this somewhat recovered himself, asked the spectre whether by the juice of plantain he meant that of the leaves or roots? it replied, the roots. then it asked him whether he did not know him? he answered, no; it replied, i am such a one; the man answered he had been long dead; i have been dead, said the spectre or ghost, seven years, and you know that i lived a loose life, and ever since, i have been hurried up and down in a restless condition with the company you saw, and shall be to the day of judgment; then he proceeded to tell him, that had he acknowledged god in his ways, he had not suffered such severe things by their means; and farther said, you never prayed to god before that day you met with this company in the fields. this relation was sent to dr. henry more by mr. e. fowler, who said, mr. greatrix told it several persons; the lord orrery also owned the truth of it; and mr. greatrix told it to dr. henry more himself, who particularly inquired of mr. greatrix about the man's being carried up into the air, above men's heads, in the room, and he did expressly affirm that he was an eye-witness thereof. a vision which happened to the ingenious and learned dr. donne, may not improperly be here inserted. mr. isaac walton, writing the life of the said doctor, tells us, that the doctor and his wife, living with sir robert drury, who gave them a free entertainment at his house in drury-lane, it happened that the lord haye was by king james sent in an embassy to the french king, henry iv., whom sir robert resolved to accompany, and engaged dr. donne to go with them, whose wife was then with child, at sir robert's house. two days after their arrival at paris, dr. donne was left alone in that room in which sir robert and he and some other friends had dined together. to this place sir robert returned within half an hour; and as he left so he found dr. donne alone, but in such an ecstacy, and so altered in his looks, as amazed sir robert to behold him, insomuch that he earnestly desired dr. donne to declare what had befallen him in the short time of his absence. to which dr. donne was not able to make a present answer; but after a long and perplexed pause, did at last say, i have seen a dreadful vision, since i saw you; i have seen my dear wife pass twice by me, through this room, with her hair hanging about her shoulders, and a dead child in her arms; this i have seen since i saw you. to which sir robert replied, sure, sir, you have slept since i saw you, and this is the result of some melancholy dream, which i desire you to forget, for you are now awake. to which dr. donne's reply was, i cannot be surer that i now live than that i have not slept since i saw you, and am as sure at her second appearing she stopped and looked me in the face and vanished. rest and sleep had not altered dr. donne's opinion the next day; for he then affirmed this vision with a more deliberate and so confirmed a confidence, that he inclined sir robert to a faint belief that the vision was true, who immediately sent a servant to drury house, with a charge to hasten back and bring him word whether mrs. donne were alive; and if alive, what condition she was in as to her health. the twelfth day the messenger returned with this account; that he found and left mrs. donne very sad and sick in bed, and that after a long and dangerous labour she had been delivered of a dead child, and upon examination the abortion proved to be the same day, and about the very hour that dr. donne affirmed he saw her pass by in his chamber. mr. walton adds this, as a relation which will beget some wonder, and well it may, for most of our world are at present possessed with an opinion that visions and miracles are ceased, and though it is most certain that two lutes both being strung and tuned to an equal pitch, and then one played upon, the other, that is not touched, being laid upon the table at a fit distance, will, like an echo to a trumpet, warble a faint, audible harmony in answer to the same tune, yet many will not believe that there is any such thing as a sympathy with souls, &c. section ii. i shall next relate some little histories to show what perception men have had of spirits by the sense of hearing. for, as wierus says, spirits appear sometimes invisibly, so that only a sound, voice, or noise, is perceived by men, viz., a stroke, knocking, whistling, sneezing, groaning, lamenting, or clapping of the hands, to make men attent to inquire or answer. in luther's colloquia mensalia, &c., set forth in latin, at frankfort, anno , it being a different collection from that of aurifaber, which is translated from high dutch into english. we have the following relation:-- it happened in prussia, that as a certain boy was born, there presently came to him a genius, or what you please to call it, for i leave it to men's judgments, who had so faithful a care of the infant, that there was no need either of mother or servant; and, as he grew up, he had a like care of him; he went to school with him, but so, that he could never be seen either by himself, or any others in all his life. afterwards he travelled into italy, he accompanied him, and whensoever any evil was like to happen to him, either on the road or in the inn, he was perceived to foretell it by some touch or stroke; he drew off his boots as a servant; if he turned his journey another way, he continued with him, having the same care of him in foretelling evil; at length he was made a canon; and as, on a time, he was sitting and feasting with his friends in much jollity, a vehement stroke was struck on a sudden on the table, so that they were all terrified; presently the canon said to his friends, be not afraid, some great evil hangs over my head. the next day he fell into a great fever, and the fit continued on him for three whole days, till he died, miserably. captain henry bell, in his narrative prefixed to luther's table, printed in english, anno , having acquainted us how the german copy printed of it had been discovered under ground, where it had lain hid fifty-two years, that edition having been suppressed by an edict of the emperor rudolphus the second, so that it was death for any person to keep a copy thereof; and having told us that casparus van spar, a german gentleman, with whom he was familiarly acquainted, while he negotiated affairs in germany for king james the first, was the person that discovered it, anno , and transmitted it into england to him, and earnestly desired him to translate the said book into english, says, he accordingly set upon the translation of it many times, but was always hindered from proceeding in it by some intervening business. about six weeks after he had received the copy, being in bed with his wife, one night, between twelve and one of the clock, she being asleep, but himself awake, there appeared to him an ancient man standing at his bed-side, arrayed all in white, having a long and broad white beard hanging down to his girdle, who taking him by his right ear, said thus to him: sirrah! will you not take time to translate that book which is sent unto you out of germany? i will shortly provide for you both place and time to do it; and then he vanished. hereupon, being much affrighted, he fell into an extreme sweat, so that his wife awaking and finding him all over wet, she asked him what he ailed? he told her what he had seen and heard; but he never regarded visions nor dreams, and so the same fell out of his mind. but a fortnight after, being on a sunday; at his lodging in king-street, westminster, at dinner with his wife, two messengers were sent from the whole council-board, with a warrant to carry him to the gate-house, westminster, there to be kept till farther order from the lords of the council; upon which warrant he was kept there ten whole years close prisoner, where he spent five years of it in translating the said book, having good cause to be mindful of the old man's saying: i will shortly provide for you both place and time to translate it. though the perception of spirits chiefly affects the hearing and seeing faculties, yet are not the other senses without some participation of these genial objects, whether good or evil; for, as st. austin says, the evil work of the devil creeps through all the passages of the senses; he presents himself in figures, applies himself to colours, adheres to sounds, introduces odours, infuses himself in savours, and fills all the passages of intelligence; sometimes cruelly tormenting with grief and fear, sometimes sportingly diverting man or taunting with mocks; and on the other hand, as the learned walter hilton, a great master of contemplative life, in his scale of perfection sets forth, that appearances or representations to the corporeal senses may be both good and evil. but before i conclude upon this head, to give still more weight and authority to the perception men have had of these genii, both by the senses of hearing and seeing, i will relate two very remarkable fragments of history of this kind, told us by persons who demand our credit, and done within the memory of our grandfathers and fathers. the first is concerning that duke of buckingham who was stabbed by felton, august the twenty-third, . mr. lilly, the astrologer, in his book entituled monarchy or no monarchy, in england, printed in quarto, ; having mentioned the duke of buckingham, writes as follows: since i am upon the death of buckingham, i shall relate a true story, of his being admonished often of the death he should die, in this manner:-- an aged gentlemen, one parker, as i now remember, having formerly belonged unto the duke, or of great acquaintance with the duke's father, and now retired, had a demon appeared several times to him in the shape of sir george villiers, the duke's father: this demon walked many times in parker's bedchamber, without any action of terror, noise, hurt, or speech; but at last, one night, broke out in these words: mr. parker, i know you loved me formerly, and my son george at this time very well, i would have you go from me, you know me very well to be his father, old sir george villiers of leicestershire, and acquaint him with these and these particulars, &c.; and that he above all refrain the council and company of such and such, whom he then nominated, or else he will come to destruction, and that suddenly. parker, though a very discreet man, partly imagined himself in a dream all this time; and being unwilling to proceed upon no better grounds, forbode addressing himself to the duke; for he conceived, if he should acquaint the duke with the words of his father, and the manner of his appearance to him, such apparitions being not usual, he should be laughed at and thought to dote, in regard he was aged. some few nights past without farther trouble to the old man, but not very many nights after, old sir george villiers appeared again, walked quick and furiously in the room, seemed angry with parker, and at last said, mr. parker, i thought you had been my friend so much, and loved my son george so well, that you would have acquainted him with what i desired, but i know you have not done it; by all the friendship that ever was betwixt you and me, and the great respect you bear my son, i desire you to deliver what i formerly commanded you to my son. the old man seeing himself thus solicited, promised the demon he would, but first argued it thus, that the duke was not easy to be spoken withal, and that he would account him a vain man to come with such a message from the dead: nor did he conceive the duke would give any credit to him; to which the demon thus answered: if he will not believe you have this discourse from me, tell him of such a secret and named it, which he knows none in the world ever knew but myself and him. mr. parker being now well satisfied that he was not asleep, and that the apparition was not a vain delusion, took a fit opportunity, and seriously acquainted the duke with his father's words and the manner of his apparition. the duke laughed heartily at the relation, which put old parker to a stand, but at last he assumed courage, and told the duke that he acquainted his father's ghost with what he found now to be true, viz., scorn and derision. but, my lord, says he, your father bid me acquaint you by this token, and he said it was such as none in the world but your two selves did yet know. hereat the duke was amazed and much astonished, but took no warning or notice thereof, keeping the same company still, advising with such counsellors and performing such actions as his father by parker countermanded. shortly after, old sir george villiers, in a very quiet but sorrowful posture, appears again to parker, and said, mr. parker, i know you delivered my words to george, my son, i thank you for so doing, but he slighted them, and now i only request this more at your hands, that once again you repair to my son, and tell him that if he will not amend, and follow the counsel i have given him, this knife or dagger, and with that he pulled a knife or dagger from under his gown, shall end him; and do you, mr. parker, set your house in order, for you shall die at such a time. mr. parker once more engaged, though very unwillingly, to acquaint the duke with the last message, and so did; but the duke told him to trouble him no farther with such messages and dreams, and told him he perceived he was now an old man and doted; and within a month after, meeting mr. parker on lambeth bridge, said, now, mr. parker, what say you of your dream? who only returned; sir, i wish it may never have success, &c. but within six weeks after, he was stabbed with a knife, according to his father's admonition beforehand, and mr. parker died soon after he had seen the dream or vision performed. this relation is inserted also in the great lord clarendon's history, and in sir r. baker's chronicle. the lord clarendon, in his history, vol. i. lib. i., having given some relations, says, that amongst others, there was one, meaning this of parker, which was upon a better foundation of credit than usually such discourses are founded upon. and he tells us that parker was an officer in the king's wardrobe in windsor castle, of a good reputation for honesty and discretion, and then about the age of fifty years or more. this man had, in his youth, been bred in a school in the parish where sir george villiers, the father of the duke lived, and had been much cherished and obliged in that season of his age by the said sir george, whom afterwards he never saw. about six months before the miserable end of the duke of buckingham the apparition was seen. after the third appearance, he made a journey to london, where the court then was; he was very well known to sir ralph freeman, one of the masters of the requests, who had married a lady that was nearly allied to the duke, and was himself well received by him. he informed the duke with the reputation and honesty of the man, and sir ralph freeman carried the man the next morning, by five of the clock, to lambeth, according to the duke's appointment, and there presented him to the duke, who received him courteously at his landing, and walked in conference near an hour with him, and sir ralph's and the duke's servants at such a distance that they heard not a word; but sir ralph always fixed his eyes on the duke, who sometimes spoke with great commotion and disorder; and the man told sir ralph in their return over the water, that when he mentioned those particulars that were to gain him credit, the duke's colour changed, and he swore he could come to that knowledge only by the devil; for that those particulars were known only to himself and to one person more, who, he was sure, would never speak of them. so far the lord clarendon. i will now subjoin an authentic relation, which mr. beaumont tells us at the end of his book of genii, or familiar spirits, printed in the year , he had just before received from the mouth of the then bishop of gloucester himself. it is as follows, word for word:-- sir charles lee, by his first lady, had only one daughter, of which she died in childbirth; and when she died, her sister, the lady everard, desired to have the education of the child; and she was by her very well educated till she was marriageable; and a match was concluded for her with sir william perkins, but was then prevented in an extraordinary manner. upon a thursday night, she thinking she saw a light in her chamber after she was in bed, knocked for her maid, who presently came to her; and she asked why she left a candle burning in her chamber? the maid said she left none, and there was none, but what she brought with her at that time. then she said it was the fire; but that the maid told her was quite out, and said she believed it was only a dream: whereupon she said it might be so, and composed herself again to sleep; but about two of the clock she was awakened again, and saw the apparition of a little woman between her curtain and her pillow, who told her she was her mother, and that she was happy, and that by twelve of the clock that day she should be with her; whereupon she knocked again for her maid, called for her clothes, and when she was dressed, went into her closet, and came not out again till nine; and then brought out with her a letter, sealed, to her father, brought it to her aunt, the lady everard, told her what had happened, and desired that, as soon as she was dead, it might be sent to him; but the lady thought she was suddenly fallen mad; and thereupon sent presently away to chelmsford for a physician and surgeon, who both came immediately, but the physician could discern no indication of what the lady imagined, or of any indisposition of her body; notwithstanding, the lady would needs have her let blood, which was done accordingly; and when the young woman had patiently let them do what they would with her, she desired that the chaplain might be called to read prayers, and when prayers were ended, she took her guitar and psalm book, and sat down upon a chair without arms, and played and sung so melodiously and admirably, that her music master, who was then there, admired at it; and near the stroke of twelve, she rose and sat herself down in a great chair with arms, and presently fetching a strong breathing or two, immediately expired, and was so suddenly cold as was much wondered at by the physician and surgeon. she died at waltham, in essex, three miles from chelmsford; and the letter was sent to sir charles, at his house in warwickshire; but he was so afflicted with the death of his daughter, that he came not till she was buried: but when he came he caused her to be taken up, and to be buried by her mother at edmonton, as she desired in her letter. this was about the year one thousand six hundred and sixty-two or sixty-three; and this relation the right reverend the lord bishop of gloucester had from sir charles lee himself; and mr. beaumont printed it in his book above mentioned, from the bishop's own mouth. the relations which i have given above, are not like the trifling accounts too often given of these things, and therefore causing grave ones to be ridiculed in common with them. they are of that nature, that, whoever attempts to ridicule them, will, instead of turning them into jest, become the object of ridicule himself. the first story, which has in it such amazing circumstances, and such uncommon and dreadful incidents concerning the butler in ireland, is, as the reader sees, attested by no less a personage than an earl of orrery, two bishops, and many other noblemen and gentlemen being present and eye-witnesses of what the earl said. what greater testimony would the most incredulous have? they say such things are told for interest. what interest could an earl and many noblemen have in promoting such an imposture? the incredulous say, likewise, great and learned men delight sometimes in putting frauds upon the world, and after laugh at their credulity. would a number of noble laymen choose two prelates to carry on such a fraud; and would two pious bishops probably combine with several, and some servants there present, in spreading such a deceit? it is past believing, and it demands the strictest of moral faith that can be given to the most unquestioned history that the pen of man ever wrote. the second story is founded, first, upon the experience of one of the most ingenious men of that age, dr. donne, and then upon the proof made by his friend sir robert drury, who could at first scarce believe it; and shall we doubt the credit of men, whose company, for their credit be it spoken, a british ambassador was proud of gaining. the third story is told by luther himself, who began the great work of the reformation. the fourth is told by one that was a king's public minister and told from his own trial of the matter, where he could have no interest in the telling it. the fifth is related by those great historians, the lord clarendon and sir richard baker, as a truth relied upon by themselves, and fit to be credited by their readers. the sixth and last was related to mr. beaumont, by the lord bishop of gloucester, who received the account from sir charles lee himself, to whose granddaughter the matter happened. men who will not believe such things as these, so well attested to us, and given us by such authorities, because they did not see them themselves, nor anything of the like nature, ought not only to deny the demon of socrates, but that there was such a man as socrates himself; they should not dispute the genii of cæsar, cicero, brutus, marc antony, but avow that there were never any such men existing upon earth, and overthrow all credible history whatsoever. meanwhile, all men, but those who run such lengths in their fantastical incredulity, will, from the facts above mentioned, rest satisfied, that there are such things as evil and good genii, and that men have sometimes a commerce with them by all their senses, particularly those of seeing and hearing, and will not therefore be startled at the strange fragments of histories which i am going to relate of our young duncan campbell, and look upon some wonderful adventures which he performed by the intervention of his familiar demon or genius, as falsehoods, only because they are uncommon and surprising, more especially since they were not done in a corner, but by an open way of profession of a predictor of things, in the face of the metropolis of london, where he settled young, as will appear in the progress of his life. however, some people, notwithstanding all this, may allege, that though a man may have a genius appear to him, so as to convey into his mind, through his senses, the knowledge of things that are to come to pass, yet this happens but on very eminent and extraordinary occasions. the murder, for example, of a prime minister, and the favourite of a monarch, in such a manner as it was performed on the great duke of buckingham, by felton, was a thing so uncommon, that it might perhaps deserve, by the permission of heaven, an uncommon prediction; the others likewise are instances eminent in their way, particularly that of the lady everard's niece; for that young lady being then marriageable, and a treaty for that end being on foot with sir william perkins, the divine providence foreseeing that such a state might call away her thoughts, hitherto bent on him and spiritual affairs, and fix them on the trifles of this world, might perhaps permit her to be called by a holy mother to the state of happiness she before her enjoyed, lest her daughter's mind should change, and she go into the ways of a sinner. but if these supereminent, these scarce and rare examples, may be admitted of man's holding a conversation with the spiritualized beings of another world; it will, however, be far below the dignity of human reason, methinks, to make such large concessions to people who pretend to converse that wonderful way, as to allow them the credit of being able to do it upon every slight occasion, and every indifferent occurrence of human life. i cannot help acknowledging, that a man of wisdom may at first thought, make such an objection; but reflection will presently retract it, and the same good sense that taught him to make an objection so well upon the first thought, will teach him, upon second thoughts, to acquiesce in the answer. infants may have, no doubt, the benefit of such an attending genius, as well as people more advanced in years; as may be seen in one of the instances, which is a very famous one, relating to the boy born in prussia, who was attended by one constantly, from the time of his birth to his death. besides, it is a mistake in the understanding to imagine, that death, which is the determination and end of life, is of more consequence to be known than the manner of regulating that life; for in reality, according to the right way of considering death, or the determination of a man's life, derives its importance from the steps which he took in the due regulation of it; and therefore, every, the least step proper to be taken for the due regulation of life, is of more consequence to be known than the death of a person, though this at first sight carries the face of significance, and the other nothing better than the look of a trifle. marriage, for example, is a step in life of the utmost importance, whether we consider that estate with regard to this, or the next world. death is but the finishing of one person, but marriage may be the introducing of many into the world with happiness; it is therefore a thing of more importance to be known beforehand, and consequently more worthy of the communication of a genius, to the man with whom he conversed. posidonius tells us, that a certain rhodian dying, nominated six of his equals, and said who should die first, who next, and so on, and the event answered the prediction; why, then, though some people are apt to make a jest of it, may not a man, by the intervention of his good genius, tell a woman that is to have six husbands, who she shall have first, who next, and so on, and the event answer the prediction? if men of learning may acquire such knowledge as to attain to extraordinary things by their ordinary faculties, why may not ordinary things be taught others in this extraordinary way? for will anybody say that it is easier for a man to accommodate himself to the knowledge of a demon or genius than for a demon or genius to accommodate himself to the knowledge of a man? certain it is, indeed, that if this good genius, that induces a man with a prophetic kind of science, be anything resembling a good angel, the primary end of his being permitted to direct mankind must consist in things relating more to their welfare hereafter: yet i know not why they may not sometimes inspire, or openly direct them in human knowledge, and in things relating to human life, so they are of a good tendency; more especially since such a good inspiration may be a counterbalance to the bad knowledge which some have been inspired with by evil spirits. i would not be thought to go too far in a point of this nature, and have, therefore, though perhaps i could say much more if i followed entirely my own private opinion, and would venture to introduce it here, in order to communicate it to others, and make it a public one, said no more on this head than what divines generally teach. but the most unexceptionable mistress, that teaches these things to be in nature, is experience. if we had very many people gifted this way, the extraordinary thing would have been become ordinary, and therefore i cannot help wondering that it should be so ordinary a thing for wise men themselves to wonder too much at things because they are extraordinary, and suspect them as frauds because they are uncommon. there has scarce been any period of time in which some person of this prophetic class has not existed, and has not been consulted by the greatest of men, and their predictions found at the long run to come true; ignorant men always rise to their belief of them by experience, and the most learned men submit their great opinions to experience, but your men of middling talents, who make up their want of reason with bustling obstinacy and noisy contradiction, have been and still continue to be their own opposers, and without discovering the reason for what they say, they content themselves with having the laugh on their sides, and barely affirming without proving, that it is a kind of ideal juggle and intellectual legerdemain, by which these modern predictors impose things upon the eye of reason, as the corporeal eye is imposed upon by sleight of hand; but it is a strange thing that men of such quick reason cannot give us a sample of the frauds. thus, i remember to have read, i cannot tell where, the story of some courtiers, who, when a great artist of legerdemain was to act before the king, pretended to be so quick-sighted, that nothing he did should escape their discovery, were left by his nimble fingers in the dark, and forced at last with blushes to own they had no better eyes than other people. in a word, if people will be led by suspicions and remote possibilities of fraud and contrivance of such men, all historical truth shall be ended, when it consists not with a man's private humour or prejudice to admit it. now, therefore, to prove by experience and undeniable testimonies, that these kind of genii will submit to little offices, in order to bring men to greater good, i will give three or four curious passages that will set the reasonable reader at ease, and prepare him for reading the passages of mr. campbell's life with pleasure, and as a fine history of wonderful facts, that, though they seem to surpass belief, yet ought to have his credit. what in nature can be more trivial than for a spirit to employ himself in knocking on a morning at a wainscot by the bed's-head of a man who got drunk over-night, according to the way that such things are ordinarily explained? and yet i shall give you such a relation of this, that not even the most devout and precise presbyterian will offer to call in question. for mr. baxter, in his historical discourse of apparitions, writes thus:-- there is now in london an understanding, sober, pious man, oft one of my hearers, who has an elder brother, a gentleman of considerable rank, who, having formerly seemed pious, of late years does often fall into the sin of drunkenness, he often lodges long together here in his brother's house; and whensoever he is drunk and has slept himself sober, something knocks at his bed's-head, as if one knocked on a wainscot; when they remove his bed it follows him; besides other loud noises, on other parts where he is, that all the house hears; they have often watched him, and kept his hands lest he should do it himself. his brother has often told it me, and brought his wife, a discreet woman, to attest it; who avers, moreover, that as she watched him, she has seen his shoes under the bed taken up, and nothing visible to touch them. they brought the man himself to me, and when we asked him how he dare sin again after such a warning, he had no excuse: but being persons of quality, for some special reason of worldly interest, i must not name him. two things are remarkable in this instance, says mr. baxter. first, what a powerful thing temptation and fleshly concupiscence is, and what a hardened heart sin brings men to; if one rose from the dead to warn such sinners, it would not of itself persuade them. secondly, says mr. baxter, it poses me to think what kind of spirit this is that has such a care of this man's soul, which makes me hope he will recover. do good spirits dwell so near us, or are they sent on such messages? or is it his guardian angel? or is it the soul of some dead friend that suffers? and yet, retaining love to him, as dives to his brethren, would have him saved? god yet keeps such things from us in the dark. so far we have the authority of the renowned and famous mr. baxter, who makes this knocking of the spirit at the bed's-head, though what we commonly call frivolous, an important errand. another relation of this kind was sent to mr. john beaumont, whom i myself personally know, and which he has inserted in his account of genii, or familiar spirits, in a letter by an ingenious and learned clergyman of wiltshire, who had given him the relation likewise before, by word of mouth. it is as follows:-- near eighty years since, in the parish of wilcot, which is by devizes, in the vicar's house, there was heard for a considerable time the sound of a bell constantly tolling every night. the occasion was this: a debauched person who lived in the parish came one night very late and demanded the keys of the church of the vicar, that he might ring a peal, which the vicar refused to let him have, alleging the unseasonableness of the time, and that he should, by granting his desires, give a disturbance to sir george wroughton and his family, whose house adjoined the churchyard. upon this refusal, the fellow went away in a rage, threatening to be revenged of the vicar, and going some time after to devizes, met with one cantle or cantlow, a person noted in those days for a wizard, and he tells him how the vicar had served him, and begs his help to be even with him. the reply cantle made him was this; does he not love ringing? he shall have enough of it: and from that time a bell began to toll in his house, and continued so to do till cantle's death, who confessed at fisherton gaol, in sarum, where he was confined by king james during his life, that he caused that sound, and that it should be heard in that place during life. the thing was so notorious that persons came from all parts to hear it; and king james sent a gentleman from london on purpose to give him satisfaction concerning the truth of the report. mr. beaumont had likewise this story, as he tells, from the mouth of sir george wroughton's own son; with this remarkable circumstance, that if any in the house put their heads out of the window they could not hear the sound, but heard it immediately again as soon as they stood in the room. the reader here sees that good and bad genii exercise themselves upon very little functions, knocking at bed's-heads, and ringing of bells. for proof of this we have the testimonies of two divines, of a man of quality and probity, and the same satisfaction that a learned king had, who sent to inquire into the matter; and after this there can be, i think, no room for doubt. but to carry the point still nearer home; inasmuch as i know some will leave no stone unturned to make the extraordinary actions which the person whose life i write has performed, appear impostures, and inasmuch as for this end they may say, that though many people may have been gifted in this extraordinary manner, yet not so as to make a profession of it, and therefore, from thence they take their suspicions, i shall in this place, to remove every nicest scruple they can have touching this affair, give the reader one instance of this kind likewise, before i proceed with my history. there lived not many years since a very aged gentlewoman in london, in water-lane, by fleet-street, whose name was pight, who was endowed with a prophetic spirit; and the ingenious mr. beaumont, whom i personally knew, and who had a familiar genius himself, gives the world this account of her. she was very well known, says he, to many persons of my acquaintance now living in london. among others, a gentleman, whose candour i can no way suspect, has told me, that he often resorted to her as to an oracle; and that as soon as he came into her presence, she would usually tell him, that she knew what he was coming for, for that she had seen his spirit for some time before; and without his saying anything to her, she would commonly tell him what the business was which he came to consult her about, and what the event of it would be; which he always found to fall out as she said, and many other persons now living can testify the like experience of her as to themselves. before i conclude this chapter, i am willing to give the public one farther little history of the like kind with the foregoing ones, with this only difference, that if it be valued according to the worth the world has always attributed to the very ingenious person whom it concerns, it will be far the most famous of them all, and therefore fittest to finish this chapter, and to crown this part of the work, in which we are showing that persons have had a perception of genii or spirits, not visible at the same time to others. the famous torquatus tasso, prince of the italian poets, and scarce inferior to the immortal virgil himself, and who seems to enjoy the intermingled gifts of the most accurate judgment of this latin poet, and the more fertile and copious invention and fancy of the greek one, homer, strongly asserted his own experience in this kind. his life was written and published in french, anno , by d.c.d.d.v. who, in his preface, tells us, that in what he writ he has followed chiefly the history given us in italian by john baptista manso, a neapolitan gentleman, who had been a very intimate friend to tasso. in his life, among other things, he acquaints us that tasso was naturally of that melancholic temperament, which has always made the greatest men, and that this temperament being aggravated by many hardships he had undergone, it made him sometimes beside himself, and that those melancholic vapours being despatched, he came again to himself, like those that return from fits of the falling sickness, his spirit being as free as before. that, near his latter end, he retired from the city of naples, to his friend manso, at bisaccia, a small town in the kingdom of naples, where manso had a considerable estate, and passed an autumn there in the diversions of the season. and here the french author gives us an account of tasso's sensible perception of a genius, as follows:--as after these amusements, he usually retired to his chamber, to entertain himself there with his friend manso, the latter had the opportunity to inquire into one of the most singular effects of tasso's melancholy, of this heroic melancholy, as i may call it, which raised and brightened his spirit, so far it was from depressing or rendering it obscure; and which, among the ancients, would have reasonably caused them to have ascribed a familiar demon to him, as to socrates. they were often in a warm debate concerning this spirit, with which tasso pretended to have so free a communication. i am too much your friend, said manso to him one day, not to let you know what the world thinks of you concerning this thing, and what i think of it myself. is it possible, that being enlightened as you are, you should be fallen into so great a weakness as to think you have a familiar spirit; and will you give your enemies that advantage, to be able to prove by your own acknowledgment, what they have already published to the world? you know, they say, you did not publish your dialogue of the messenger, as a fiction; but you would have men believe that the spirit which you make to speak there, was a real and true spirit; hence men have drawn this injurious consequence, that your studies have embroiled your imagination, so that there is made in it a confused mixture of the fictions of the poets, the inventions of the philosophers, and the doctrine of religion. i am not ignorant, answered tasso, of all that is spread abroad in the world on account of my dialogue; i have taken care divers times to disabuse my friends, both by letter and word of mouth: i prevented even the malignity of my enemies, as you know at the time i published my dialogue. men could not be ignorant that i composed it for the young prince of mantua, to whom i would explain after an agreeable manner, the principal mysteries of the platonic philosophy. it was at mantua itself, after my second flight from ferrara, that i formed the idea of it, and i committed it to paper a little after my unfortunate return. i addressed it to this prince, and all men might have read in the epistle dedicatory, the protestation i there make, that this dialogue, being written according to the doctrine of the platonics, which is not always conformable to revealed truths, men must not confound what i expose there as a philosopher, with what i believe as a christian. this distinction is by so much the more reasonable, that at that time nothing extraordinary had happened to me, and i spake not of any apparition. this can be attested by all those with whom i lodged, or whom frequented in this voyage; and therefore there is no reason for confounding the fiction of my dialogue with what has happened to me since. i am persuaded of all you say to me, replied manso; but truly i cannot be of what you believe, at present, concerning yourself. will you imagine that you are in commerce with a spirit? and i ask you, of what order is that spirit? shall we place him in the number of the rebels, whom their pride precipitated into the abyss? or of the intelligences, who continued firm in faith and submission to their creator? for there is no mean to take in the true religion, and we must not fall into the extravagances of the gnomes and sylphs of the cabalists. now the spirit in question cannot be a demon: you own that instead of inspiring you anything contrary to piety and religion, he often fortifies in you the maxims of christianity: he strengthens your faith by profound reasonings, and has the same respect with you for sacred names and things. neither can you say that it is an angel; for though you have always led a regular life, and far from all dissoluteness; though for some years past you have applied yourself, after a particular manner, to the duties of a true christian, you will agree with me, that these sorts of favours are not common; that a man must have attained to a high degree of sanctity, and not be far from the pureness of celestial spirits, to merit a familiar converse, and bear a harmony with them. believe me, there is nothing in all these discourses which you imagine you have with this spirit. you know, better than any man, those symptoms which the black humours wherewith you are tormented causes in you. your vapours are the source of your visions, and yourself would not judge otherwise of another person to whom a like thing should happen; and you will come to this in your own respect also, if you will make a mature reflection, and apply yourself to blot out, by an effort of reason, these imaginations which the violence of your evil effect causes in you. you may have reason, replied tasso, to think so of the things that pass in me; but as to myself, who have a sensible perception of them, i am forced to reason after another manner. if it were true that the spirit did not show himself to me, but in the violent assault of my vapours; if he offered to my imagination but wandering and confused species, without connection or due sequel; if he used to me frivolous reasonings, which ended in nothing; or if having begun some solid reasoning he broke it off on a sudden, and left me in darkness, i should believe with you, that all things that pass are but mere dreams and phantoms; but it is quite otherwise. this spirit is a spirit of truth and reason, and of a truth so distinct, of a reason so sublime, that he raises me often to knowledges that are above all my reasonings, though they appear to me no less clear; that he teaches me things which, in my most profound meditations, never came into my spirit, and which i never heard of any man, nor read in any book. this spirit, therefore, is somewhat of real; of whatsoever order he be, i hear him and see him, nevertheless for its being impossible for me to comprehend and define him. manso did not yield to these facts, which tasso would have passed for proofs; he pressed him with new questions, which were not without answers. since you will not believe me on my word, said tasso to him another day, after having well disputed, i must convince you by your own eyes, that these things are not pure imaginations: and the next day, conversing together in the same chamber, manso perceived that, on a sudden, he fixed his eyes towards the window, and that he stood, as it were, immoveable; he called to him and jogged him many times, but instead of answering him; see there the spirit, says tasso, at last, that has been pleased to come and visit me, and to entertain himself with me; look on him, and you will acknowledge the truth of what i say. manso, somewhat surprised, cast his eyes towards the place he showed him, and perceived nothing but the rays of the sun passing through the glass, nor did he see anything in all the chamber; though he cast his eyes round it with curiosity, and he desired him to show him the spirit, which he looked for in vain, while he heard tasso speak with much vehemency. he declares in a letter which he writ concerning this to the admiral of naples, that he really heard no other voice but tasso's own; but they were sometimes questions made by him to the pretended spirit, sometimes answers that he made to the pretended questions of the spirit, and which were couched in such admirable terms, so efficacious, concerning subjects so elevated, and so extraordinary, that he was ravished with admiration, and dared not to interrupt him. he hearkened, therefore, attentively, and being quite beside himself at this mysterious conversation, which ended at last by a recess of the spirit, as he found by the last words of tasso; after which, tasso, turning himself to him, well, said he, are your doubts at last dissipated? on the contrary, answered manso, i am more embroiled than ever; i have truly heard wonderful things; but you have not showed me what you promised me. you have seen and heard, resumed tasso, perhaps more than----he stopped here; and manso, who could not recover himself of his surprise, and had his head filled with the ideas of this extraordinary entertainment, found himself not in a condition to press him farther. meanwhile he engaged himself not to speak a word to any man of these things he had heard, with a design to make them public, though he should have liberty granted him. they had many other conversations concerning this matter, after which manso owned he was brought to that pass, that he knew not what to think or say, only, that if it were a weakness in his friend to believe these visions, he much feared it would prove contagious to him, and that he should become at last as credulous as himself. dr. beaumont, who is still living, and with whom i have had formerly some acquaintance myself, has set down, among the others, this relation at large concerning tasso, and gives this reason for it: because, says the doctor, i think it contains a sufficient answer to what many learned friends have said to myself on the like occasion. perhaps it may not be ungrateful to the reader, if i subjoin here the short eulogium writ on tasso, by the famous thuanas, which is as follows:-- torquatus tasso died about the forty-fifth year of his age, a man of a wonderful and prodigious wit, who was seized with an incurable fury in his youth, when he lived at the court of ferrara, and nevertheless, in lucid intervals, he writ many things both in verse and prose, with so much judgment, elegancy, and extreme correctness of style, that he turned at length that pity which many men had conceived for him, into an amazement; while by that fury, which, in others, makes their minds outrageous or dulls them, after it was over, his understanding became as it were more purified, more ready in inventing things, more acute in aptly disposing them after they were invented, and more copious in adorning them with choice words and weight of sentences; and that which a man of the soundest sense would scarce excogitate at his leisure, with the greatest labour and care imaginable, he, after a violent agitation of the mind set beside itself, naturally performed with a wonderful felicity, so that he did not seem struck with an alienation of mind, but with a divine fury. he that knows not these things, which all men know that have been in italy, and concerning which himself sometimes complains, though modestly, in his writings; let him read his divine works, and he must necessarily conclude, either that i speak of another man than tasso, or that these things were written by another man than tasso. after having given my readers so many memorable accounts concerning the perception men have had in all ages, and still continue to have of genii or familiar spirits, by all the senses, as seeing, hearing, &c., which accounts have been attested by men of the greatest learning and quality, if any of them still remain dissatisfied, i am contented, and desire them, for their punishment, to lay down the book before they arrive at the more pleasant parts of it, which are yet to come, and not to read one tittle farther. these unbelieving gentlemen shall then be at liberty, according as their different spirits dictate, to ridicule me in the same manner as many more learned and greater men than i have been satirized, before my time, by persons of a like infidel temper, who would fain pass incredulity upon the world as wisdom; and they may, with all the freedom in nature, bestow upon me those merry appellations which, i very well know such extraordinary freethinkers imagine to belong of right, to any author, that either believes himself, or would possess the world with an opinion and belief, that there is such a thing as the holding commerce and conversation in this habitable world with genii, and familiar spirits. i shall only first tell them all i have to say to terminate the dispute between them and me. those who, to give themselves the air and appearance of men of solid wisdom and gravity, load other men, who believe in spirits, with the titles of being men of folly, levity, or melancholy, are desired to learn, that the same folly, as they are pleased to term it, of opinion, is to be found in the greatest men of learning that ever existed in the universe. let them, in order to be convinced of this, read apuleius's book, _de deo socrat._; censorinus's book _de die nat._ c. ; porphyrius, in his book _de abstinentia_; agrippa, in his _treatise de occult. phil._ . , c. , and also c. ; _natalis_ comes in his _myth._ . , c. ; maraviglia, in his _pseudomantia. dissertation._ and , and _animadversion_. ; plato in his _timoeus et cratylus_; ammianus marcellinus's history, book ; hieronimus cardanus in his book _de vita propria_, c. ; the great kircher, in his _oedipus Ægyptiacus_, vol. iii. p. ; pausanius, in _cliac. poster._; that immortal orator, cicero, lib. i. _de divinatione_; lib. ii. _de natura deorum_; the _histoire prodigieuse_, written by pere arnault; and a book entituled _lux e tenebris_, which is a collection of modern visions and prophecies in germany by several persons, translated into latin, by jo. amos. comenius, printed at amsterdam, . and if they will be at the pains of having due recourse to these quotations, they will find that all these men, whose learning is unquestionable, and most of whom have been in a firm and undisputed possession of fame for many centuries, have all unanimously agreed in this opinion, how foolish soever they may think it, that there ever was and ever would be a communication held between some select men and genii, or familiar spirits. i must therefore desire their pardon, if i rejoice to see them remain wise by themselves, and that i continue to be esteemed by them a fool among so much good company. others out of a mere contempt of religion, or cowardly, for fear of being thought pusillanimous by men, turn bravos to heaven, and laugh at every notion of spirits as imbibed from the nurse or imposed upon us by priests, and may top these lines upon us with an elegant and a convincing magisterial sneer, though the divine socrates was of our opinion, and even experienced it to be true, having a genius himself:-- the priests but finish what the nurse began, and thus the child imposes on the man. these bring into my mind a saying of sir roger l'estrange on seneca, which i must apply to socrates; i join in opinion with a christian heathen, while they remain heathen christians. the third sort, out of a pretended veneration to religion and divinity, may call me superstitious and chimerical. to them i answer, i will continue chimerical and superstitious with st. austin; who gives the same opinion in his _civitate dei_ with ludovicus vives; let them be solider and more religious divines than st. austin in disowning it. thus i bid these austere critics heartily farewell; but let my better-natured readers go on and find a new example of this conversation being held with the genii by our duncan campbell. chapter vi. a narrative of mr. campbell's coming to london and taking upon him the profession of a predictor; together with an account of many strange things that came to pass just as he foretold. to proceed on regularly with the life of young duncan campbell, i must let the reader know that he continued thus conversing with his little genius, as is set forth above in the dialogue he had with me, and predicting many things of the like nature, as i have described, till the year , when he was just fourteen years of age, and then he left scotland. but before i come to speak of the manner of his departure from thence, his half native country, inasmuch as his father was of that country, and he had his education there, what education he could have, being deaf and dumb. i must let the reader know that in the year , my very good friend, mrs. campbell, his mother-in-law, died, and left him there at edinburgh, an orphan of twelve years of age. he was, i may venture to say, the most beautiful boy of that age i ever knew; and the sensible reader, who considers a child of good birth, with the misfortunes of being deaf and dumb, left fatherless and motherless in the wide world, at twelve years old, without any competency for his maintenance and support, without any relations, in a manner, that knew him or assisted him; all the little fortune his father had having been lost in the civil commotions in scotland, as i have related above, need not hear me describe the compassion i and many more had for him; because such a reader must certainly feel in his own bosom the same lively acts of pity and commiseration at the hearing of such a mishap as i had at the seeing it, or at least as i have now revived afresh within me at the relating it. however, it came so to pass, that a person of the name of campbell, and who was a distant relation of the boy, though he himself was but in indifferent circumstances, was resolved to see him provided for one way or another, in a manner somewhat suitable to his condition, and till that time to take the best care of him himself that he was able. several ladies of quality who had known his perfections, coveted to make the boy one of their domestics, as a page, or a playfellow to their children; for though he could not speak, he had such a vivacity in all his actions, such a sprightliness of behaviour, and such a merriment accompanying all his gestures, that he afforded more entertainment than the prettiest and wittiest little prattlers at those years are wont to do. mr. campbell had certainly accepted of some of these fortunate offers for his little cousin, which were many of them likely to prove very advantageous, if it had not been put in his head by some friends, particularly myself, that if he had a mind to dispose of the boy in that manner, the best way he could take would be to present him to the late earl of argyle, who for his namesake and for his father's sake, as well as the qualifications and endowments of the boy, would more naturally, according to all probability, take a greater pleasure and delight in him, and consequently provide better for him, and with a more lasting care, than any other person of quality that had a sudden liking to him, which might change, and took him as a stranger out of a bare curiosity. mr. campbell was by these reasons overruled in the disposal of his little dumb prophetical cousin, as he called him, and resolved that an offer should be made of him to the present illustrious duke of argyle's most noble father. but it so unfortunately happened, that the earl making very much a longer stay at london than was expected, mr. campbell, the uncle, sent our young duncan campbell, his nephew, handsomely accoutred, and with a handsome sum of money in his pocket, by sea, with captain meek of kircaldie, to london, with letters of recommendation to the earl's favour, and just a few days before young duncan arrived in london, the earl was set out on his journey to his seat in scotland. i had now left him for near three years, not having seen him since about a year after his mother's death; and then coming to london, i had by mere accident an appointment to meet some scotch gentlemen at the buffalo at charing-cross. there happened at that time to be a great concourse of scotch nobility there at an entertainment; and one of the ladies and gentlemen passing by and seeing one of my friends, desired him to come in, and told him both he and his companion should be very welcome to partake of the diversion. the lady told him they had got a lovely youth, a scotch miracle, among them, that would give us exquisite delight, and write down to us all the occurrences of our future lives, and tell us our names upon our first appearance. the moment i heard of it, duncan campbell came into my head; but as it is a thing not rare to be met with in scotland for second sighted persons to tell such things, and as the earl of argyle was in the north, i thought little duncan had been under his protection and with him, and did not dream of meeting with him there; and accordingly told my friend, before i went in, that i believed i knew a lad in scotland would exceed this in foresight, let him be as dexterous in his art as he would. as soon as i entered the room, i was surprised to find myself encompassed and surrounded by a circle of the most beautiful females that ever my eyes beheld. in the centre of this angelic tribe was seated a heavenly youth, with the most winning comeliness of aspect that ever pleased the sight of any beholder of either sex; his face was divinely fair, and tinged only with such a sprightly blush as a painter would use to colour the picture of health with, and the complexion was varnished over by a blooming like that of flourishing fruit, which had not yet felt the first nippings of an unkind and an uncivil air; with this beauty was joined such a smiling draught of all the features as is the result of pleasantry and good humour. his eyes were large, full of lustre, majestic, well set, and the soul shone so in them, as told the spectators plainly how great was the inward vivacity of his genius; the hair of his head was thick, and reclined far below his shoulders; it was of a fine silver colour, and hung down in ringlets like the curling tendrils of a copious vine. he was by the women entertained, according to the claim which so many perfections joining in a youth just ripening into manhood might lay to the benevolent dispositions of the tender sex. one was holding the basin of water, another washing a hand, a third with a towel drying his face, which another fair had greedily snatched the pleasure of washing before, while a fourth was disposing into order his silver hairs with an ivory comb, in a hand as white, and which a monarch might have been proud to have had so employed in adjusting the crown upon his head; a fifth was setting into order his cravat; a sixth stole a kiss, and blushed at the innocent pleasure, and mistook her own thoughts as if she kissed the angel and not the man; and they all rather seemed to adore than to love him, as if they had taken him not for a person that enjoyed the frequent gift of the second-sight, but as if he had been some little prophet peculiarly inspired; and while they all thus admired and wondered, they all consulted him as an oracle. the surprise of seeing a young man so happy amidst the general concurring favours of the fair, made me be for awhile lost in a kind of delightful amazement, and the consideration of what bliss he was possessed made me scarce believe my own eyes, when they told me it was duncan campbell, who i had left an unhappy orphan at edinburgh. but so it was, though he was much altered in stature, being now shot up pretty fast in his growth since i had seen him, and having gained a kind of a fixed comportment, such as we may daily observe in those who are taking leave of their minority, and stepping into a stage of maturer life. the first remarkable thing i knew him do in london, being in this splendid company, where there were so many undoubted witnesses of quality too, that had ocular proof of his predictions at that public tavern: i choose to record it here in the first place according to its due order. it was in the year . among this angelical class of beauties were dr. w--lw--d's lady and daughter. upon earth there was not sure a more beautiful creature than the daughter was; she was the leading light of all the sparkling tribe; and otway's character suits her exactly; for she was among ten thousand eminently fair. one would imagine prosperous and lucky fortune was written upon her face, and that nothing unhappy could be read in so fair a book; and it was therefore the unanimous consent of all, that by way of good omen to the rest, his predictions should begin to be opened luckily that day, and that therefore he should first of all be consulted about her. accordingly, the mother, to be satisfied of his talent before she proceeded to any other questions, asked him in writing if he knew the young lady, her name, and who she was. after a little ruminating and pondering upon the matter, and taking an exact view of the beauty, he wrote down her name, told mrs. w--lw--d she was her daughter, and that her father was a doctor. convinced by his so readily telling the name and quality of persons he had never seen in his lifetime, that fame had not given a false character of his capacity, she proceeded in her questions as to her future fortune. he gazed afresh at her very eagerly for some time, and his countenance during that time of viewing her seemed to be ruffled with abundance of disturbance and perplexity. we all imagined that the youth was a little touched at the heart himself with what he saw, and that instead of telling hers, he had met in her bright eyes with his own destiny, the destiny of being for ever made a slave and a captive to so many powerful and almost irresistible charms. at length, after having a long debate within himself, which we thought proceeded from the strugglings of love and passion, he fetching a great sigh, which still convinced us more, took the pen and wrote to mrs. w--lw--d, that he begged to be excused, and that his pen might remain as dumb and silent as his tongue on that affair. by this answer we concluded, one and all, that our former conjectures were true, and we joined in pressing him the more earnestly to deliver his real and sincere opinion concerning the accidents upon which the future fortunes of her life were to turn and depend. he showed many mighty reluctances in the doing it; and i have often since considered him in the same anguish as the late great dr. ratcliff, who was endeavouring by study to save a certain fair one, whom he loved with a vehemence of temper, and who was, as his reason told him, got far away beyond the reach of the art of physic to recover. at last he wrote in plain terms that his backwardness and unwillingness to tell it, arose from his wishes that her fortune would be better than his certain foreknowledge of it told him it would be, and begged that we would rest satisfied with that general answer, since it was in so particular a case, where he himself was a well-wisher in vain, to the lady about whom he was consulted. the young lady herself thinking that if she knew any disasters that were to befall her she might, by knowing the nature of them beforehand, and the time when they were likely to happen, be able, by timely prudence and forecast, to avert those evils, with many beseechings urged him to reveal the fatal secret. after many struggles to avoid it, and as many instances made to him both by mother and daughter for the discovery of his prescience in that point, he complied with very great difficulty; and blotting the paper with tears that trickled fast from his eyes, he gave her the lamentable scroll, containing the words that follow; viz., i wish it had not fallen to my lot to tell this lady, whom everybody that but once looks at her must admire, though they must not have leave to love, that she is not much longer to be possessor of that lovely face, which gains her such a number of adorers. the smallpox will too soon turn a ravisher, and rifle all those sweets and charms that might be able to vanquish a king and to subdue a conqueror of mighty battles. her reign is doomed, alas! to be as short as it is now great and universal; i believe she has internal beauties of the mind, not the least inferior to those external excellences of the body; and she might, perhaps, by the power of her mind alone, be absolute queen of the affections of men, if the smallpox threatened not too surely to be her farther enemy, and, not contented to destroy the face, was not perversely bent to destroy the whole woman. but i want words to express my sorrow. i would not tell it if you did not extort the baneful secret from my bosom. this fair creature, whose beauty would make one wish her immortal, will, by the cruel means of the smallpox, give us too sudden a proof of her mortality. but neither the mother nor herself ought too much to repine at this, seeing it appears to be the decree of providence, which is always to be interpreted as meant for our good, and seeing it may be the means of translating her the sooner only to her kindred angels, whose beauty she so much resembles here on earth, and to be among the lowest class of whom, is better than being the greatest beauty of the world here below, and wearing an imperial crown. while i comfort you, i cannot help the force of nature, which makes me grieve myself; and i only give you, because you compel me to it, so particular and so exact an answer to so particular and so exacting a question. the mother, who took the paper, was prudent enough to conceal from the daughter what he said; but nature would force its way, and bubbled from her eyes; and the daughter perceiving that, pressed hard to see it, and wept at the consideration that hard fate, though she knew not particularly what way, was to befall her. never surely was anything so beautiful in tears, and i obtained of the mother to see the writing. at last, in general terms, to free her from a suspense of mind, it was told her that some trouble should happen to her that should diminish her beauty. she had courage enough to hear that misfortune with disdain, and crying, if that be all, i am armed, i don't place much pride in that which i know age must shortly after destroy, if trouble did not do it before; and she dried up her tears; and, if what mr. bruyere says, be true, viz., that the last thing a celebrated woman thinks of when she dies, is the loss of her beauty, she showed an admirable pattern of female philosophy, in bearing such a cruel prediction with such unspeakable magnanimity, as exceeded even the patience of stern stoicism, considering she was a woman, to whom beauty is more dear than life. if any evil, that is impending over people's heads, could be evaded by foreknowledge, or eluded by art, she had the fairest opportunity of having this prediction annulled, which would have been more to the satisfaction of the predictor than knowing it verified, than ever any woman had. her mother was specifically told that the fatal distemper should be the smallpox; her father was, and is still, a very eminent physician; and distempers of that kind, especially, are much more easily prevented by care, than cured by art, and by art more easily set aside, when there is a timely warning given to a physician to prepare the body against the danger of the poison, than when the distemper has once catched hold of a body at unawares, when it is unpurged of any gross humours that may accompany it. but neither the foreknowledge and caution of the mother, nor the skill and wisdom of the great physician her father, were sufficient to ward off the approaching harm, that was written in the books of fate. not many suns had finished their yearly courses, before she was forced to submit to the inevitable stroke of death, after the infectious and malicious malady had first ravished her beauty, rioted in all her sweets, and made an odious deformed spectacle of the charmer of mankind. the death of the daughter worked hard upon the mother's bowels, and dragged her speedily after her, with a broken heart to the grave. this lady, whose fortune so great and so distinguished an assembly had chosen to hear as a happy forerunner and lucky omen of all their own, which were to be asked afterwards in their turns, proving so contrary to their expectations, already unfortunate in the prediction, and having been in tears about the matter, disheartened all the rest of the beauties from consulting him farther that day. the person who kept the tavern, by name, mrs. irwin, alleged that as some people were very fortunate, and others unfortunate upon the same day, so one lady might be before told a mishap one minute, and another lady all the prosperity in nature the very next minute following, and therefore that what the unfortunate lady had heard was not to be taken as ominous, or as what could malignantly influence the day, neither ought it to be the least hinderance to any who had the curiosity of being let into the secrets of time beforehand. however, whether the ladies were convinced or no; if she prevailed over their belief in that point, she could not prevail over their humour, which, though they might not believe the former prediction ominous to themselves, were naturally awed for fear of the like, peradventure, for a time, and so it was agreed, _nemine contradicente_, as a witty lady wrote it down, that no more petitions should for that day be presented by any of that company to his dumb, yet oracular, majesty. mrs. irwin, however, would have her way; said she did not presume to such honour as to call herself of that company, and that therefore she might consult him without breaking through the votes of the assembly. many endeavoured to dissuade her, but as she was passionately fond of knowing future events; and had a mighty itch to be very inquisitive with the oracle about what might happen, not only to herself, but her posterity; it was agreed that he should have the liberty of satisfying her curiosity, since she presumed her fortune was sure to be so good, and was so forward and eager for the knowledge of it. but, alas! such is too often the fantastical impulse of nature unluckily depraved, that it carries us often into wishes of knowing, what when known we would be glad to unknow again, and then our memory will not let us be untaught. mrs. irwin was at that time in a pretty commodious way of business, everything in plenty round about her, and lived more like a person of distinction, that kept such a cellar of wine, open house, and a free table, than like one who kept a tavern. she brought in her pretty children, that were then almost babies, the youngest having not long been out of the nurse's arms, or trusted to the use of its own legs. these children she loved as a mother should love children; they were the delight of her eyes all day, and the dream of her imagination all night. all the passions of her soul were confined to them; she was never pleased but when they were so, and always angry if they were crossed; her whole pride was centered in them, and they were clothed and went attended more like the infants of a princess, than of a vintner's relict. the fortune of these was what she had near at heart, and of which she was so eager of being immediately apprised. her impatience was proportionable to the love she had for them, and which made her wish to foreknow all the happiness that was like to attend them. she sat cheerfully down, presented one to him, and smiling, wrote the question in general terms, viz., is this boy to be happy or unhappy. a melancholy look once more spread itself all over the face of the predictor, when he read the too inquisitive words, and he seemed mightily to regret being asked a question, to which he was by his talent of foreseeing compelled to give so unwelcome an answer. the colour of the poor woman flushed and vanished alternately, and very quick, and she looked not quite like the picture of despair, but a disconsolate woman, with little hopes on one hand, and great doubts and dismal fears on the other. she professed she read great evil in the troubles of his face, thanked him for his good nature, told him that they all knew that though he could foretell he could not alter the acts and decretals of fate, and therefore desired him to tell her the worst; for that the misfortunes, were they never so great, would be less dreadful to her than remaining in the state of fear and suspension. he at last wrote down to her that great and unexpected and even unavoidable accidents would involve the whole family in new calamities, that the son she asked him about would have the bitterest task of hardship to go through withal, while he lived, and that to finish all more unhappily, he would be basely and maliciously brought to an untimely end, by some mortal enemy or other, but that she should not trouble herself so much on that head, she would never see it, for it would happen some years after she was departed from the world. this melancholy account closed up the book of predictions for that day, and put a sad stop to all the projected mirth and curiosity. now i must tell the reader how and when the event answered the prediction. and in a few words, it was thus; poor mrs. irwin, by strange accidents, decayed in the world, and dying poor, her sons were forced to be put out apprentices to small trades, and the son, whom the above-mentioned prediction concerned, was, for stealing one cheese from a man in the haymarket, severely prosecuted at the old bailey, and on wednesday, the rd of december, , hanged at tyburn, with several other criminals. the two foregoing passages are of so tragical a nature, that it is time i should relieve the minds of my readers with some histories of ladies who consulted him with more success and advantage, to whom his predictions were very entertaining, when they so came to pass in their favour, the relation whereof will consequently be agreeable to all readers who have within them a mixture of happy curiosity and good nature. two ladies, who were the most remarkable beauties in london, and most courted, turned at the same time their thoughts to matrimony; and being satiated, i may say wearied, with the pleasure of having continually after them a great number and variety of adorers, resolved each, about the same time, to make a choice of their several men, to whom they thought they could give most happiness, and from whom they might receive most. their names, for they are both persons of distinction, shall be christallina and urbana. christallina was a virgin, and urbana a young widow. christallina engrossed the eyes, the hearts, and the sighs of the whole court; and wherever she appeared, put any court lady out of her place, that had one before in the heart of any youth; and was the most celebrated toast among the _beau monde_. urbana's beauty made as terrible havock in the city; all the citizens' daughters that had many admirers, and were in fair hopes of having husbands when they pleased themselves, as soon as urbana had lost her old husband, found that they every day lost their lovers; and it was a general fear among the prettiest maids, that they should remain maids still, as long as urbana remained a widow. she was the monopolizer of city affection, and made many girls, that had large stocks of suitors, bankrupts in the trade of courtship, and broke some of their hearts, when her charms broke off their amours. well, but the day was near at hand when both the belles of the court and the city damsels were to be freed from the ravages which these two tyrants, triumphant in beauty and insolent in charms, made among the harvest of love. each had seen her proper man, to whom the enjoyment of their person was to be dedicated for life. but it being an affair of so lasting importance, each had a mind to be let into the knowledge of the consequences of such a choice, as far as possible, before they stepped into the irrevocable state of matrimony. both of them happened to take it into their heads, that the best way to be entirely satisfied in their curiosity, was to have recourse to the great predictor of future occurrences, mr. duncan campbell, whose fame was at that time spread pretty largely about the town. christallina and urbana were not acquainted with each other, only by the report which fame had made of beauty. they came to mr. campbell's on the same day, and both with the same resolution of keeping themselves concealed and under masks, that none of the company of consulters, who happened to be there, might know who they were. it happened that on that very day, just when they came, mr. campbell's rooms were more than ordinarily crowded with curious clients of the fair sex, so that he was obliged to desire these two ladies, who expressed so much precaution against, and fear of having their persons discovered, to be contented with only one room between them, and with much ado they complied with the request, and condescended to sit together _incog._ distant compliments of gesture passed between them, the dress and comportment of each making them appear to be persons of figure and breeding, and after three or four modish courtesies, down they sat, without so much as once opening their lips, or intending so to do. the silence between them was very formal and profound for near half an hour, and nothing was to be heard but the snapping of fans, which they both did very tunably, and with great harmony, and played as it were in concert. at last, one of the civil, well-bred mutes, happening to sneeze, the other very gracefully bowed, and before she was well aware, out popped the words, bless you, madam. the fair sneezer returned the bow, with an--i thank you, madam. they found they did not know one another's voices, and they began to talk very merrily together, with pretty great confidence, and they taking a mutual liking from conversation, so much familiarity grew thereupon instantly between them, that they began not only to unmask, but to unbosom themselves to one another, and confess alternately all their secrets. christallina owned who she was, and told urbana the beau and courtier that had her heart. urbana as frankly declared that she was a widow, that she would not become the lady's rival, that she had pitched upon a second husband, an alderman of the city. just by that time they had had their chat out, and wished one another the pleasure of a successful prediction, it came to christallina's turn to visit the dumb gentleman, and receive from his pen oracular answers to all the questions she had to propose. well, he accordingly satisfied her in every point she asked him about; but while she was about this, one of mr. campbell's family going with urbana to divert her a little, the widow rallied at the virgin as a fool, to imagine that she should ever make a conquest of the brightest spark about the court, and then let fly some random bolts of malice to wound her reputation for chastity. now it became the widow's turn to go and consult; and the same person of mr. campbell's family in the mean time entertained christallina. the maid was not behindhand with the widow; she rallied against the widow, represented her as sometimes a coquette, sometimes a lady of pleasure, sometimes a jilt, and lifted up her hands in wonder and amazement that urbana should imagine so rich a man as an alderman such a one, should fall to her lot. thus urbana swore and protested that christallina could never arrive at the honour of being the wife to the courtly secretarius, let mr. campbell flatter her as he would; and christallina vowed that campbell must be a downright wizard if he foretold that such a one as urbana would get alderman stiffrump as a husband, provided a thing so improbable should come to pass. however, it seems, duncan had told them their own names and the names of their suitors, and told them farther, how soon they were both to be married, and that too directly to their heart's content, as they said rejoicingly to themselves, and made their mutual gratulations. they went away each satisfied that she should have her own lover, but christallina laughed at mr. campbell for assigning the alderman to urbana; and urbana laughed at him for promising the courtier to the arms of christallina. this a pretty good figure of the tempers of two reigning toasts with regard to one another. first, their curiosity made them, from resolving to be concealed, discover one another wilfully; from utter strangers grow as familiar as old friends in a moment, swear one another to secrecy, and exchange the sentiments of their hearts together; and, from being friends, become envious of each other's enjoying a similitude of happiness; the compliments made on either side face to face, were, upon the turning of the back, turned into reflections, detraction, and ridicule; each was a self-lover and admirer of her own beauty and merit, and a despiser of the other's. however, duncan campbell, proved at last to be in the right; urbana was wrong in her opinion of christallina's want of power over secretarius, and christallina was as much out in her opinion that urbana would miss in her aim of obtaining stiffrump; for they both proved in the right of what they thought with regard to their own dear single persons, and were made happy according to their expectations, just at the time foretold by mr. campbell. christallina's ill wishes did not hinder urbana from being mistress of alderman stiffrump's person and stock, nor did urbana's hinder christallina from showing herself a shining bride at the ring, in secretarius's gilded chariot, drawn by six prancers of the proud belgian kind, with her half dozen of liveries with favours in their hats, waiting her return at the gate of hyde park. both loved and both envied, but both allowed of mr. campbell's foreknowledge. having told you two very sorrowful passages, and one tolerably successful and entertaining; i shall now relate to you another of my own knowledge, that is mixed up with the grievous and the pleasant, and chequered, as it were, with the shade and the sunshine of fortune. though there are vicissitudes in every stage of life under the sun, and not one ever ran continually on with the same series of prosperity; yet those conditions which are the most liable to the signal alterations of fortune, are the conditions of merchants; for professed gamesters i reckon in a manner as men of no condition of life at all; but what comes under the statute of vagabonds. it was, indeed, as the reader would guess, a worthy and a wealthy merchant, who was to run through these different circumstances of being. he came and visited our mr. campbell in the year , he found him amidst a crowd of consulters; and being very eager and solicitous to know his own fortune just at that critical juncture of time, he begged of him, if possible, to adjourn his other clients to the day following, and sacrifice that one wholly to his use; which as it was probably more important than all the others together, so he wrote down that he would render the time spent about it more advantageous to mr. campbell; and, by way of previous encouragement, threw him down ten guineas as a retaining fee. mr. campbell, who held money in very little esteem, and valued it so much too little, that he has often had my reprehensions on that head, paused a little, and after looking earnestly in the gentleman's face, and reading there, as i suppose, in that little space of time in general, according to the power of the second-sight, that what concerned him was highly momentous, wrote him this answer; that he would comply with his requests, adjourn his other clients to the day following, and set apart all the remnant of that, till night, for inspecting the future occurrences of which he had a mind to be made a master. there is certainly a very keen appetite in curiosity; it cannot stay for satisfaction, it is pressing for its necessary repast, and is without all patience: hunger and thirst are not appetites more vehement and more hard and difficult to be repressed than that of curiosity; nothing but the present now is able to allay it. a more expressive picture of this i never beheld than in the faces of some, and the murmurs and complaints of others, in that little inquisitive company, when the unwelcome note was given about signifying an adjournment for only twenty-four hours. the colour of a young woman there came and went a hundred times, if possible, in the space of two minutes; she blushed like a red rose this moment, and in the switch of an eyelash she was all over as pale as a white one: the suitor, whose name her heart had gone pit-a-pat for the space of an hour to be informed of from the pen of a seer, was now deferred a whole day longer; she was once or twice within an ace of swooning away, but he comforted her in particular, by telling her, though he said it only by way of jest, that the day following would be a more lucky day to consult about husbands than the present that she came on. the answer was a kind of cordial to her hopes, and brought her a little better to herself. two others, i remember, sisters and old maids, that it seems were misers, women ordinarily dressed and in blue aprons, and yet, by relation, worth no less than two thousand pounds each, were in a peck of troubles about his going and leaving them unsatisfied. they came upon an inquiry after goods that were stolen, and they complained that by next morning at that time, the thief might be got far enough off, and creep into so remote a corner, that he would put it beyond the power of the devil and the art of conjuration to find him out and bring him back again. the disturbance and anxiety that was to be seen in their countenances was like that which is to be beheld in the face of a great losing gamester, when his all, his last great stake, lies upon the table, and is just sweeping off by another winning hand into his own hat. the next was a widow who bounced, because, as she pretended, he would not tell her what was best to do with her sons, and what profession it would be most happy for them to be put to; but in reality all the cause of the widow's fuming and fretting, was not that she wanted to provide for her sons, but for herself; she wanted a second husband, and was not half so solicitous about being put in a way of educating those children she had already, as of knowing when she should be in a likelihood of getting more. this was certainly in her thoughts, or else she would never have flounced about in her weed, from one end of the room to the other, and all the while of her passion, smile by fits upon the merchant, and leer upon a young pretty irish fellow that was there. the young irishman made use of a little eye-language; she grew appeased, went away in quite a good humour, scuttled too airily down stairs for a woman in her clothes, and the reason was certainly that she knew the matter before, which we took notice of presently after: the irishman went precipitately after her down stairs without taking his leave. but neither were the two misers for their gold, the virgin for a first husband, nor the widow for a second, half so eager as another married woman there was for the death of her spouse. she had put the question in so expecting a manner for a lucky answer, and with so much keen desire appearing plainly in her looks, that no big-bellied woman was ever more eager for devouring fruit; no young, hasty bridegroom, just married to a beauty, more impatient for night and enjoyment, than she was to know what she thought a more happy moment, the moment of her husband's last agonising gasp. as her expectation was the greatest, so was her disappointment, too, and consequently her disorder upon his going and leaving her unresolved. she was frantic, raging, and implacable; she was in such a fury at the delay of putting off her answer to the day following, that in her fury she acted as if she would have given herself an answer which of the two should die first, by choking herself upon the spot, with the indignation that swelled in her stomach and rose into her throat on that occasion. it may look like a romance to say it, but indeed they were forced to cut her lace, and then she threw out of the room with great passion; but yet had so much of the enraged wife left, beyond the enraged woman, as to return instantly up stairs, and signify very calmly, she would be certain to be there next day, and beseeched earnestly that she might not meet with a second disappointment. all this hurry and bustle created a stay a little too tedious for the merchant, who began to be impatient himself, especially when word was brought up that a fresh company was come in; but mr. campbell was denied to them; and to put a stop to any more interruptions, the merchant and the dumb gentleman agreed to slip into a coach, drive to a tavern in the city, and settle matters of futurity over a bottle of french claret. the first thing done at the tavern, was mr. campbell's saluting him upon a piece of paper by his name, and drinking his health. the next paper held a discourse of condolence for a disaster that was past long since; namely, a great and considerable loss that happened to his family, in the dreadful conflagration of the city of london. in the third little dialogue which they had together, he told the merchant that losses and advantages were general topics, which a person unskilled in that art might venture to assign to any man of his profession; it being next to impossible that persons who traffic should not sometimes gain, and sometimes lose. but, said mr. duncan campbell, i will sketch out particularly, and specify to you some future misfortunes with which you will unavoidably meet; it is in your stars, it is in destiny, that you should have some trials, and therefore when you are forewarned, take a prudent care to be forearmed with patience, and by longanimity, and meekly and resignedly enduring your lot, render it more easy, since impatience can't avert it, and will only render it more burdensome and heavy. he gave these words to the merchant; who pressed for his opinion that moment. by your leave, resuming the pen, said the dumb gentleman, in writing, we will have this bottle out first and tap a fresh one, that you may be warmed with courage enough to receive the first speculative onset of ill fortune, that i shall predict to you, with a good grace, and that may perhaps enable you to meet it when it comes to reduce itself into action, with a manful purpose and all becoming resolution. the merchant agreed to the proposal, and put on an air of the careless and indifferent as well as he could, to signify that he had no need to raise up an artificial courage from the auxiliary forces of the grape. but nature, when hard pressed, will break through all disguises, and not only notwithstanding the air of pleasantry he gave himself, which appeared forced and constrained, but in spite of two or three sparkling and enlivening bumpers, a cloud of care would ever and anon gather and shoot heavily across his brow, though he laboured all he could to dispel it as quickly, and to keep fair weather in his countenance. well, they had cracked the first bottle, and the second succeeded upon the table, and they called to blow a pipe together. this pipe mr. campbell found had a very ill effect; it is certainly a pensive kind of instrument, and fills a mind, anything so disposed, with disturbing thoughts, black fumes, and melancholy vapours, as certainly as it doth the mouth with smoke. it plainly took away even the little sparks of vivacity which the wine had given before; so he wrote for a truce of firing those sort of noxious guns any longer, and they laid down their arms by consent, and drank off the second bottle. a third immediately supplied its place, and at the first glass, the opening of the bottle, mr. campbell began to open to him his future case, in the following words: sir, you have now some ventures at sea from such and such a place, to such a value. don't be discomforted at the news which you certainly will have within three months, but it will be false at last, that they are by three different tempests made the prey of the great ocean, and enrich the bottom of the sea, the palace of neptune. a worse storm than all these attends you at home, a wife who is, and will be more, the tempest of the house wherein she lives. the high and lofty winds of her vanity will blow down the pillars of your house and family; the high tide of her extravagance will roll on like a resistless torrent, and leave you at low water, and the ebb of all your fortunes. this is the highest and the most cutting disaster that is to befall you; your real shipwreck is not foreign but domestic; your bosom friend is to be your greatest foe, and even your powerful undoer for a time; mark what i say, and take courage, it shall be but for a time, provided you take courage; it will upon that condition be only a short and wholesome taste of adversity given to you, that you may relish returning prosperity with virtue, and with a greater return of thanks to him that dispenses it at pleasure to mankind. remember, courage and resignation is what i advise you to; use it, as becomes you, in your adversity, and believe that as i foretold that adversity, so i can foretell a prosperity will again be the consequence of those virtues; and the more you feel the one ought not to cast you down, but raise your hopes the more, that he who foretold you that so exactly, could likewise foretell you the other. the merchant was by this put into a great suspense of mind, but somewhat easier by the second prediction being annexed so kindly to the first fatal one. they crowned the night with a flask of burgundy, and then parting, each went to their respective homes. the reader may perchance wonder how i, who make no mention of my being there, as in truth i was not at the tavern, should be able to relate this as of my own knowledge; but if he pleases to have patience to the end of the story, he will have entire satisfaction in that point. about half a year after, the merchant came again, told him that his prediction was too far verified, to his very dear cost, and that he was now utterly undone, and beyond any visible means of a future recovery, and doubting lest the other fortunate part of the prediction was only told him by way of encouragement, for groundless doubts and fears always attend a mind implunged in melancholy, besought him very earnestly to tell him candidly and sincerely if there was no real prospect of good, and rid him at once of the uneasiness of such a suspension of thought; but pray too, said he, with all the vehemence of repeated expostulation, satisfy me if there are any farther hopes on this side the grave? to this duncan campbell made a short, but a very significant reply in writing. may the heavens preserve you from a threatening danger of life. take care only of yourself, great and mighty care; and if you outlive friday next, you will yet be great and more fortunate than ever you was in all the height of your former most flourishing space of life. he coloured inordinately when duncan campbell said friday, and conjured him to tell him as particularly as he could what he meant by friday. he told him he could not particularise any farther, but that great danger threatened him that day; and that without extraordinary precaution it would prove fatal to him, even to death. he shook his head, and went away in a very sorrowful plight. friday past, saturday came, and on that very saturday morning came likewise the joyful tidings, that what ventures of his were given over for lost at sea, were all come safe into the harbour. he came the moment he received those dispatches from his agent, to mr. duncan campbell's apartment, embraced him tenderly, and saluted him with much gladness of heart, before a great roomful of ladies, where i happened to be present at that time; crying out in a loud voice, before he knew what he said, that mr. campbell had saved his life, that friday was his birthday, and he had intended with a pistol to shoot himself that very day. the ladies thought him mad; and he, recovered from his ecstacy, said no more, but sat down, till mr. campbell dismissed all his clients; and then we three went to the tavern together, where he told me the whole little history or narrative, just as is above related. the fame which mr. duncan campbell got by the foregoing, and several other predictions of the like kind, was become very large and extensive, and had spread itself into the remotest corners of this metropolis. the squares rung with it, it was whispered from one house to another through the more magnificent streets, where persons of quality and distinction reside; it catched every house in the city, like the news of stock from exchange-alley; it run noisily through the lanes and little thoroughfares where the poor inhabit; it was the chat of the tea-table, and the babble of the streets; and the whole town, from the top to the bottom, was full of it. whenever any reputation rises to a degree like this, let it be for what art or accomplishment, or on what account soever it will, malice, envy, and detraction, are sure to be the immediate pursuers of it with full mouth, and to hunt it down if possible, with full cry. even the great nostradamus, though favoured by kings and queens, which always without any other reason creates enemies, was not more pursued by envy and detraction for his predictions in paris, and throughout france, than our duncan campbell was in london, and even throughout england. various, different, and many were the objections raised to blot his character and extenuate his fame, that when one was confuted another might not be wanting to supply its place, and so to maintain a course and series of backbiting, according to the known maxim, throw dirt, and if it does not stick, throw dirt continually, and some will stick. neither is there any wonder; for a man, that has got applauders of all sorts and conditions, must expect condemners and detractors of all sorts and conditions likewise. if a lady of high degree, for example, should say smiling, though really thinking absolutely what she says, for fear of being thought over-credulous: well, i vow, some things mr. campbell does are surprising after all; they would be apt to incline one to a belief that he is a wonder of a man; for one would imagine the things he does impossible: why, then, a prude, with an assumed, supercilious air and a scornful _tihee_, would, in order to seem more wise than she was, reply; laud, madam, it is more a wonder to me that you can be imposed upon so. i vow to gad, madam, i would as soon consult an almanack maker, and pin my faith upon what he pricks down; or believe, like my creed, in the cross which i make upon the hand of a gipsy. lard, madam, i assure your la'ship he knows no more than i do of you. i assure you so, and therefore believe me. he has it all by hearsay. if the lady that believed it, should reply, that if he had notice of every stranger by hearsay he must be a greater man than she suspected, and must keep more spies in pay than a prime minister; the prude's answer would be with a loud laugh, and giggling out these words; lard, madam, i assure you nothing can be more easy; and so take it for granted. because she was inclined to say so, and had the act of wisdom on her side, forsooth, that she appeared hard of belief, which some call hard to be put upon, and the other lady credulous, which some though believing upon good grounds are called, and so thought, foolish; the prude's answer would be thought sufficient and convincing. thus malice and folly, by dint of noise and impudence, and strong though empty assertions, often run down modesty and good sense. among the common people it is the same, but only done in a different manner. for example, an ordinary person that had consulted, might say, as he walked along, there goes the dumb gentleman who writes down any name of a stranger at first sight. steps up a blunt fellow, that takes stubbornness for sense, and says, that is a confounded lie; he is a cheat and an impostor, and you are one of his accomplices; he will tell me my name, i suppose, if you tell it him first: he is no more dumb than i am; he can speak and hear as well as us; i have been with those that say they have heard him; i wish i and two or three more had him in our stable, and i warrant you with our cartwhips we would lick some words out of his chaps, as dumb as you call him. i tell you it is all a lie, and all a bite. if the other desires to be convinced for himself by his own experience, the rougher rogue, who perhaps has stronger sinews than the other, answers, if you lie any farther i will knock you down; and so he is the vulgar wit, and the mouth of the rabble-rout, and thus the detraction spreads below with very good success, as it does above in another kind. as there are two comical adventures in his life, which directly suit and correspond with the foregoing reflections, this seems the most proper place to insert them in. the first consists of a kind of mob-way of usage he met with from a fellow who got to be an officer in the army, but by the following behaviour will be found unworthy of the name and the commission. in the year , a lady of good quality came and addressed herself to him much after the following manner. she told him she had choice of lovers, but preferred one above the rest; but desired to know his name, and if she made him her choice what would be the subsequent fate of such a matrimony. mr. duncan campbell very readily gave her down in writing this plain and honest reply; that of all her suitors she was most inclined to a captain, a distinguished officer, and a great beau, naming his name, and one that had a great many outward, engaging charms, sufficient to blind the eyes of any lady that was not thoroughly acquainted with his manner of living. he therefore assured her, and thought himself bound, being conjured so to do, having received his fee, though there was danger in such plain and open predictions, that he was a villain and a rogue in his heart, a profligate gamester, and that if she took him to her bed, she would only embrace her own ruin. the lady's woman, who was present, being in fee with the captain, resolving to give intelligence, for fear the officer, her so good friend, should be disappointed in the siege, slily shuffled the papers into her pocket, and made a present of them to the military spark. fired with indignation at the contents, he vowed revenge; and in order to compass it, conspires with his female spy about the means. in fine, for fear of losing the lady, though he quarrelled with duncan campbell, a method was to be found out how to secure her by the very act of revenge. at last it was resolved to discover to her, that he had found out what she had been told by mr. campbell, but the way how he had been informed was to remain a secret. he did do so, and ended his discovery with these words:--i desire, madam, that if i prove him an impostor, you would not believe a word he says. the lady agreed to so fair a proposal. then the captain swore that he himself would never eat a piece of bread more till he had made mr. campbell eat his words; nay, he insisted upon it that he would bring him to his tongue, and make him own by word of mouth, that what he had written before was false and calumnious. to which the lady answered again, that if he performed what he said, she would be convinced. this brave, military man, however, not relying upon his own single valour and prowess, to bring about so miraculous a thing as the making a person that was dumb to speak, he took with him for this end three lusty assistants to combine with him in the assassination. the ambuscade was settled to be at the five bells tavern, in wych-street, in the strand. after the ambush was settled with so much false courage, the business of decoying mr. campbell into it was not practicable any other way than by sending out false colours. the lady's woman, who was by her own interest tied fast to the interests of the beau, was to play the trick of delilah, and betray this deaf and dumb samson, as he will appear to be a kind of one in the sequel of the story, into the hands of these philistines. she smooths her face over with a complimenting lie from her mistress to mr. campbell, and acted her part of deceit so well, that he promised to follow her to the five bells with all haste; and so she scuttled back to prepare the captain, and to tell him how lucky she was in mischief; and how she drew him out by smiles into perdition. the short of the story is, when they got him in among them, they endeavoured to assassinate him; but they missed of their aim; yet it is certain they left him in a very terrible and bloody condition; and the captain went away in as bad a plight as the person was left in, whom he assaulted so cowardly with numbers, and to such disadvantage. i was sent for to him upon this disaster, and the story was delivered to me thus, by one of the drawers of the tavern, when i inquired into it. they began to banter him, and speaking to him as if he heard, asked him if he knew his own fortune; they told him it was to be beaten to death. this was an odd way of addressing a deaf and dumb man. they added, they would make him speak before they had done. the boy seeing he made no reply, but only smiled, thought what passed between them was a jest with an old acquaintance, and withdrew about his business. the door being fastened, however, before they began the honourable attack, they vouchsafed to write down their intent in the words above mentioned, which they had uttered before to make sure that he should understand their meaning, and what this odd way of correction was for. all the while the maid who had brought him into it was peeping through a hole and watching the event, as appears afterwards. mr. campbell wrote them the following answer, viz., that he hoped for fair play, that he understood beargarden as well as they; but if a gentleman was amongst them he would expect gentlemanly usage. the rejoinder they made to this, consisted, it seems, not of words but of action. the officer in conjunction with another ruffian, one of the strongest of the three he had brought, commenced the assault. as good luck would have it, he warded off their first blows, it seems, with tolerable success, and a wine quart pot standing upon the table, duncan took to his arms, and at two or three quick blows, well managed, and close laid in upon the assailants, felled them both to the ground. here it was that the maid discovered her knowledge of it, and privity to the plot to the whole house; for she no sooner sees the famous leader, the valiant captain, lie sprawling on the floor with bleeding temples, but she shrieked out with all the voice she could exert, murder, murder, murder! alarmed at this outcry, the master and all the attendants of the tavern scampered up stairs, burst into the room, and found duncan campbell struggling with the other two, and the quart pot still fast clenched in his hand, which they were endeavouring to wrench from him. the drawers rescued him out of their hands, and inquired into the matter. the maid in a fright confessed the whole thing. the officer and his associate rubbed their eyes as recovering from a stunning sleep, reeled as they went to rise, paid the reckoning and slunk pitifully away; or, as the rakes' term for it is, they brushed off, and for all their odds had the worst of the lay. i, who had some authority with mr. campbell, by reason of my years, and the strict acquaintance i had with his mother, when i came and found him in that pickle, and had the whole relation told to me by the people of the house, though i could not forbear pitying him within my own mind, took upon me to reprehend him, and told him that these hardships would by providence be daily permitted to fall upon him, for he met with them twenty times, while he continued in that irregular way of living and spending his time, that might be so precious to himself and many others, in drunkenness and debauchery; and i think the lessons i wrote down to him upon that head, though a little severe just at that juncture, were, notwithstanding, well timed, and did, as i guessed they would, make a more solid impression in him than at any other. in all these scuffles, whether it is that being deaf and dumb an affront works deeper upon a man, and so renders him far more fierce or resolute, it must be said, that, though nature has been kind in making him very strong, robust, and active withal, yet he has bore some shocks, one would imagine, beyond the strength of a man, having sometimes got the better of five or six ruffians in rencounters of the like kind. the next banter he met with was in a gentler way, from an unbelieving lady, and yet she came off with very ill success, and the banter turned all upon herself in the end. a lady of distinction, whose name shall therefore be concealed in this place, came with two or three of her special friends, who took her for the most merry, innocent, spotless virgin upon earth, and whose modesty was never suspected in the least by her relations or servants that were nearest about her; after having rallied mr. campbell with several frivolous questions, doubting his capacity, and vexing and teasing him with gay impertinences beyond all patience, was by him told, that he did not take fees in his profession to be made a jest of like a common fortuneteller, but to do real good to those who consulted him, as far as he was able by his predictions; that he was treated with more respect by persons of a higher condition, though her own was very good, and so offered her guinea back again with a bow and a smile. she had a little more generosity of spirit than not to be a little nettled at the proffer she had caused by so coarse an usage. she affected appearing grave a little, and told him she would be serious for the future, and asked him to set down her name, which she had neglected before, to ask other questions that were nothing to the purpose. he promised to write it down, but pausing a little longer than ordinary about it, she returned to her former way of uncivil merriment and ungallant raillery. she repeated to him in three or four little scraps of paper, one after another, as fast as she could write them, the same words, viz., that he could not tell her name, nor whether she was maid, wife, or widow; and laughed as if she would split her sides, triumphing to the rest of her companions over his ignorance and her own wit, as if she had posed him, and put him to an entire stand. but see what this overweening opinion of security ended in: the man of the second-sight was not to be so easily baffled. vexed at being so disturbed, and coming out of his brown study, he reaches the paper and begins to write. now it was the lady's turn to suffer, she had deserved hearty punishment, and it came into her hands with the note, to a degree of severity, as you will perceive by the contents of it just now. she read it, and swooning away, dropped from her chair. the whole room being in a bustle, i, that was in the outward chamber, ran in: while mr. campbell was sprinkling water in her face, a lady snatched up the note to read it, at which he seemed mightily displeased; i, therefore, who understood his signs, recovered it out of her hands by stratagem, and ran to burn it, which i did so quick that i was not discovered in the curiosity which i must own i satisfied myself in by reading it first; a curiosity raised too high by so particular an adventure, to be overcome in so little a time of thought, as i was to keep it in my hands, and so i came by the knowledge of it myself, without being informed by mr. campbell. this shows how a sudden curiosity, when there is not time given to think and correct it, may overcome a man as well as a woman; for i was never over-curious in my life, and though i was pleased with the oddness of the adventure, i often blushed to myself since for the unmanly weakness of not being able to step with a note from one room to another to the fireside, without peeping into the contents of it. the contents of it were these: madam since you provoke me, your name is ----. you are no widow, you are no wife, and yet you are no maid; you have a child at nurse at such a place, by such a gentleman, and you were brought to bed in leicestershire. the lady, convinced by this answer of his strange and mystical power, and pleased with his civility in endeavouring to conceal from others the secret, after so many repeated provocations, though she showed great disorder for that day, became one of his constant attenders some time after, and would not take any step in her affairs without his advice, which she often has said since, she found very much to her advantage. she was as serious in her dealings with him afterwards, and improved by being so, as she was gay and turbulent with him before, and smarted for it. in fine, she was a thorough convert, and a votary of his; and the only jest she used afterwards to make, concerning him, was a civil witticism to his wife; to whom she was wont, every now and then, smiling, to address herself after this manner: your husband, madam, is a devil, but he is a very handsome and a very civil one. not long after this came another lady, with a like intent, to impose upon him; and was resolved, as she owned, to have laughed him to scorn if she had succeeded in her attempt. she had very dexterously dressed herself in her woman's habit, and her woman in her own; her footman squired the new-made lady in a very gentlemanly dress, hired for the purpose of a disguise, from monmouth-street. the strange and unknown masqueraders entered mr. campbell's room with much art. the fellow was by nature of a clean make, and had a good look, and from following a genteel master when he was young, copied his gait a little, and had some appearance of a mien, and a tolerable good air about him. but this being the first time of his being so fine, and he a little vain in his temper, he over-acted his part; he strutted too much; he was as fond of his ruffles, his watch, his sword, his cane, and his snuff box, as a boy of being newly put into breeches; and viewed them all too often to be thought the possessor of any such things long. the affectation of the chambermaid was insufferable; she had the toss of the head, the jut of the bum, the sidelong leer of the eye, the imperious look upon her lady, now degraded into her woman, that she was intolerable, and a person without the gift of the second-sight would have guessed her to have been a pragmatical upstart, though it is very probable that during that time she fancied herself really better than her mistress; the mistress acted her part of maid the best; for it is easier for genteel modesty to act a low part, than for affected vanity to act a high one. she kept her distance like a servant, but would, to disguise things the better, be every now and then pert, according to their way, and give occasion to be chid. but there is an air of gentility inborn and inbred to some people; and even when they aim to be awkward a certain grace will attend all their minutest actions and gestures, and command love, respect, and veneration. i must therefore own that there was not need of a man's being a conjuror to guess who ought to be the lady and who the maid; but to know who absolutely was the lady, and who was the maid did require that skill. for how many such real ladies have we that are made so from such upstarts, and how many genteel waiting-women of great descent that are born with a grace about them, and are bred to good manners. mr. campbell's art made him positive in the case; he took the patches from the face of the maid, and placed them on the mistress's; he pulled off her hood and scarf, and gave it the lady, and taking from the lady her riding-hood, gave it the maid in exchange; for ladies at that time of day were not entered into that fashion of cloaking themselves. then he wrote down that he should go out, and ought to send his maid in to undress them quite, and give the mistress her own clothes and the maid hers and with a smile wrote down both their names, and commended her contrivance; but after that it was remarked by the lady that he paid her less respect than she expected, and more to her footman, who was in gentleman's habit, whom he took by his side, and told a great many fine things; whereas he would tell the lady nothing farther. the lady nettled at this, wrote to him that she had vanity enough to believe that she might be distinguished from her maid in any dress, but that he had shown his want of skill in not knowing who that gentleman was. mr. campbell told her her mistake in sharp terms; and begging her pardon, assured her he knew several chambermaids as genteel and as well-born as her, and many mistresses more awkward and worse born than her maid; that he did not go therefore by the rule of guess and judging what ought to be, but by the rule of certainty and the knowledge of what actually was. she, however, unsatisfied with that answer, perplexed him mightily to know who the man was. he answered, he would be a great man. the lady laughed scornfully, and said she wanted to know who he was, not what he would be. he answered again, he was her footman, but that she would have a worse. she grew warm, and desired to be informed, why, since he knew the fellow's condition, he respected her so little and him so much, and accused him of want of practising manners, if he had not want of knowledge. he answered, madam, since you will be asking questions too far, this footman will advance himself to the degree of a gentleman, and have a woman of distinction to his wife; while you will degrade yourself by a marriage to be the wife of a footman; his ambition is laudable, your condescension, mean, therefore i give him the preference; i have given you fair warning and wholesome advice, you may avoid your lot by prudence; but his will certainly be what i tell you. this coming afterwards to pass exactly as was predicted, and his disappointing so many that had a mind to impose upon him, has rendered him pretty free from such wily contrivances since, though now and then they have happened, but still to the mortification and disappointment of the contrivers. but as we have not pretended to say, with regard to these things, that he has his genius always at his elbow or his beck, to whisper in his ear the names of persons, and such little constant events as these; so, that we may not be deemed to give a fabulous account of his life and adventures, we think ourselves bound to give the reader an insight into the particular power and capacity which he has for bringing about these particular performances, especially that of writing down names of strangers at first sight, which i don't doubt will be done to the satisfaction of all persons who shall read the succeeding chapter, concerning the gift of the second-sight. chapter vii. concerning the second-sight. mr. martin lately published a book, entituled, a description of the western isles of scotland, called by the ancient geographers, hebrides. it contains many curious particulars relating to the natural and civil history of those islands, with a map of them; and in his preface he tells us that, perhaps, it is peculiar to those isles that they have never been described, till now, by any man that was a native of the country, or had travelled them, as himself has done; and in the conclusion of the said preface he tells us, he has given here such an account of the second-sight as the nature of the thing will bear, which has always been reckoned sufficient among the unbiassed part of mankind; but for those that will not be satisfied, they ought to oblige us with a new scheme, by which we may judge of matters of fact. the chief particulars he has given us concerning the second-sight, are here set down by way of abstract or epitome, that they may not be too tedious to the reader. . in the second-sight, the vision makes such a lively impression on the seers, that they neither see nor think of anything else but the vision as long as it continues, and then they appear pensive or jovial, according to the object which was presented to them. . at the sight of a vision the eyelids of the person are erected, and the eyes continue staring till the object vanish, as has often been observed by the author and others present. . there is one in skye, an acquaintance of whom observed, that when he sees a vision, the inner part of his eyelids turns so far upwards, that, after the object disappears, he must draw them down with his fingers, and sometimes employs others to draw them down, which he finds to be much the easier way. . the faculty of the second-sight does not lineally descend in a family, as some imagine; for he knows several parents that are endowed with it, but not their children, and so on the contrary; neither is it acquired by any previous compact; and after a strict inquiry, he could never learn from any among them that this faculty was communicable any way whatsoever. note. that this account is differing from the account that is given by mr. aubrey, a gentleman of the royal society; and i think mr. martin's reason here against the descent of this faculty from parents to children is not generally conclusive. for though he may know parents endowed with it and not children, and so vice versa, yet there may be parents who are endowed with it, being qualified, as mr. aubrey has said, viz., both being second-sighted, or even one to an extraordinary degree, whose children may have it by descent. and as to this faculty being any otherwise communicable, since the accounts differ, i must leave it to a farther examination. . the seer knows neither the object, time, nor place of a vision before it appears; and the same object is often seen by different persons living at a considerable distance from one another. the true way of judging as to the time and circumstance of an object, is by observation; for several persons of judgment, without this faculty, are more capable to judge of the design of a vision, than a novice that is a seer. as an object appears in the day or night, it will come to pass sooner or later accordingly. . if an object be seen early in the morning, which is not frequent, it will be accomplished in a few hours afterwards; if at noon, it will commonly be accomplished that very day; if in the evening, perhaps that night; if after candles be lighted, it will be accomplished that night; it is later always in accomplishment by weeks, months, and sometimes years, according to the time of the night the vision is seen. . when a shroud is perceived about one, it is a sure prognostic of death; the time is judged according to the height of it about the person; for if it be not seen above the middle, death is not to be expected for the space of a year, and perhaps some months longer; and as it is frequently seen to ascend higher towards the head, death is concluded to be at hand in a few days, if not hours, as daily experience confirms. examples of this kind were shown the author, when the persons, of whom the observations were made, enjoyed perfect health. there was one instance lately of a prediction of this kind, by a seer that was a novice, concerning the death of one of the author's acquaintance; this was communicated to a few only, and with great confidence; the author being one of the number, did not in the least regard it, till the death of the person, about the time foretold, confirmed to him the certainty of the prediction. the foresaid novice is now a skilful seer, as appears from many late instances; he lives in the parish of st. mary's, the most northern in skye. . if a woman be seen standing at a man's left hand, it is a presage that she will be his wife, whether they are married to others, or unmarried, at the time of the apparition. if two or three women are seen at once standing near a man's left hand, she that is next him will undoubtedly be his wife first, and so on, whether all three, or the man, be single or married at the time of the vision; of which there are several late instances of the author's acquaintance. it is an ordinary thing for them to see a man, that is to come to the house shortly after; and though he be not of the seer's acquaintance yet he not only tells his name, but gives such a lively description of his stature, complexion, habit, &c, that upon his arrival he answers the character given of him in all respects. if the person so appearing be one of the seer's acquaintance, he can tell by his countenance whether he comes in good or bad humour. the author has been seen thus, by seers of both sexes, at some hundreds of miles' distance; some that saw him in this manner had never seen him personally, and it happened according to their visions, without any previous design of his to go to those places, his coming there being purely accidental; and in the nineteenth page of his book he tells us, that mr. daniel morrison, a minister, told him, that upon his landing in the island rona, the natives received him very affectionately, and addressed themselves to him with this salutation; god save you, pilgrim! you are heartily welcome here, for we have had repeated apparitions of your person amongst us; viz., after the manner of the second-sight. . it is ordinary with them to see houses, gardens, and trees, in places void of all three, and this in process of time used to be accomplished; of which he gives an instance in the island of skye. . to see a spark of fire fall upon one's arm, or breast, is a forerunner of a dead child to be seen in the arms of those persons, of which there are several fresh instances. to see a seat empty at the time of one's sitting in it, is a presage of that person's death quickly after. when a novice, or one that has lately obtained the second-sight, sees a vision in the night-time without doors, and comes near a fire, he presently falls into a swoon. some find themselves, as it were, in a crowd of people, having a corpse, which they carry along with them; and after such visions the seers come in sweating, and describe the people that appeared; if there are any of their acquaintance among them, they give an account of their names, and also of the bearers. but they know nothing concerning the corpse. all those that have the second-sight, do not always see these visions at once, though they are together at the time; but if one, who has this faculty, designedly touch his fellow seer, at the instant of a vision's appearing, then the second sees it as well as the first. . there is the way of foretelling death by a cry, that they call _taisk_, which some call a _wraith_, in the lowland. they hear a loud cry without doors, exactly resembling the voice of some particular person, whose death is foretold by it, of which he gives a late instance, which happened in the village rigg, in skye isle. . things are also foretold by smelling, sometimes, as follows: fish or flesh is frequently smelt in the fire, when at the same time neither of the two are in the house, or, in any probability, like to be had in it for some weeks or months. this smell several persons have who are endued with the second-sight, and it is always accomplished soon after. . children, horses, and cows, have the second-sight, as well as men and women advanced in years. that children see it, it is plain, from their crying aloud at the very instant that a corpse or any other vision appears to an ordinary seer; of which he gives an instance in a child when himself was present. that horses likewise see it is very plain, from their violent and sudden starting, when the rider, or seer in company with them, sees a vision of any kind by night or day. it is observable of a horse, that he will not go forward that way, till he be led about at some distance from the common road, and then he is in a sweat; he gives an instance of this in a horse in the isle of skye. that cows have the second-sight appears from this; that if a woman milking a cow happens to see a vision by the second-sight, the cow runs away in a great fright at the same time, and will not be pacified for some time after. in reference to this, paracelsus, tom. ix. l. _de arte presagâ_, writes thus; "horses also have their auguries, who perceive, by their sight and smell, wandering spirits, witches, and spectres, and the like things; and dogs both see and hear the same." here in the next place the author answers objections that have lately been made against the reality of the second-sight. first, it is objected, that these seers are visionary and melancholy people, who fancy they see things that do not appear to them or anybody else. he answers, the people of these isles, and particularly the seers, are very temperate, and their diet is simple and moderate in quantity and quality; so that their brains are not, in all probability, disordered by undigested fumes of meat or drink. both sexes are free from hysteric fits, convulsions, and several other distempers of that sort. there are no madmen among them, nor any instance of self-murder. it is observed among them, that a man drunk, never has a vision of the second-sight; and he that is a visionary would discover himself in other things as well as in that; nor are such as have the second-sight, judged to be visionaries by any of their friends or acquaintance. secondly, it is objected, that there are none among the learned able to oblige the world with a satisfactory account of these visions; therefore they are not to be believed. he answers, if everything of which the learned are not able to give a satisfactory account, shall be condemned as false and impossible, we shall find many other things, generally believed, which must be rejected as such. thirdly, it is objected, that the seers are impostors, and the people who believe them are credulous, and easy to be imposed upon. he answers, the seers are generally illiterate, and well-meaning people, and altogether void of design; nor could he ever learn that any of them made the least gain of it; neither is it reputable among them to have that faculty; beside, the people of the isles are not so credulous as to believe an impossibility, before the thing foretold be accomplished; but when it actually comes to pass, afterwards it is not in their power to deny it, without offering violence to their senses and reason; beside, if the seers were deceivers, can it be reasonable to imagine that all the islanders, who have not the second-sight, should combine together and offer violence to their understandings and senses, to force themselves to believe a lie from age to age? there are several persons among them, whose birth and education raise them above the suspicion of concurring with an imposture merely to gratify an illiterate and contemptible sort of persons. nor can a reasonable man believe, that children, horses, and cows, could be engaged in a combination to persuade the world of the reality of a second-sight. every vision that is seen comes exactly to pass according to the rules of observation, though novices and heedless persons do not always judge by those rules; concerning which he gives instances. there are visions seen by several persons, in whose days they are not accomplished; and this is one of the reasons why some things have been seen, that are said never to have come to pass; and there are also several visions seen, which are not understood till they are accomplished. the second-sight is not a late discovery, seen by one or two in a corner, or a remote isle; but it is seen by many persons of both sexes, in several isles, separated about forty or fifty leagues from one another; the inhabitants of many of these isles never had the least converse by word or writing; and this faculty of seeing visions having continued, as we are informed by tradition, ever since the plantation of these isles, without being disproved by the nicest sceptic after the strictest inquiry, seems to be a clear proof of its reality. it is observable, that it was much more common twenty or thirty years ago than at present; for one in ten does not see it now, that saw it then. the second-sight is not confined to the western isles alone, the author having an account that it is in several parts of holland, but particularly in bommel, where a woman has it, for which she is courted by some, and dreaded by others. she sees a smoke about one's face, which is the forerunner of the death of a person so seen, and she actually foretold the deaths of several that lived there. she was living in that town a few winters ago. the second-sight is likewise in the isle of man, as appears by this instance: captain leathes, the chief commander of belfast, in his voyage , lost thirteen men by a violent storm; and upon his landing in the isle of man, an ancient man, clerk to a parish there, told him immediately that he had lost thirteen men there; the captain inquired how he came to the knowledge of that; he answered that it was by thirteen lights, which he had seen come into the churchyard; as mr. sacheverel tells us in his late description of the isle of man. note, that this is like the sight of the corpse-candles in wales, which is also well attested. here the author adds many other instances concerning the second-sight, of which i shall set down only a few. a man in knockow, in the parish of st. mary's, the northernmost part of skye, being in perfect health, and sitting with his fellow-servants at night, was on a sudden taken ill, dropped from his seat backward, and then fell a vomiting; at which the family was much concerned, he having never been subject to the like before; but he came to himself soon after, and had no sort of pain about him. one of the family, who was accustomed to see the second-sight, told them that the man's illness proceeded from a very strange cause, which was thus: an ill-natured woman, whom he named, who lives in the next adjacent village of bornskittag, came before him in a very angry and furious manner, her countenance full of passion, and her mouth full of reproaches, and threatened him with her head and hands, till he fell over, as you have seen him. this woman had a fancy for the man, but was like to be disappointed as to her marrying of him. this instance was told the author by the master of the family, and others who were present when it happened. sir norman macleod and some others, playing at tables, at a game called in irish, falmermore, wherein there are three of a side, and each of them throw the dice by turns, there happened to be one difficult point in the disposing of one of the tablemen; this obliged the gamester to deliberate before he was to change his man, since upon the disposing of it, the winning or losing of the game depended; at length the butler, who stood behind, advised the player where to place the man, with which he complied, and won the game. this being thought extraordinary, and sir norman hearing one whisper him in the ear, asked who advised him so skilfully? he answered it was the butler; but this seemed more strange, for it was generally thought he could not play at tables. upon this sir norman asked him how long it was since he had learned to play? and the fellow owned that he had never played in his life, but that he saw the spirit brownie, a spirit usually seen in that country, reaching his arm over the player's head, and touching the part with his finger where the tableman was to be placed. this was told the author by sir norman, and others who happened to be present at the time. daniel bow, _alias_ black, an inhabitant of bornskittag, who is one of the precisest seers in the isles, foretold the death of a young woman in minginis, within less than twenty-four hours before the time, and accordingly she died suddenly in the fields, though at the time of the prediction she was in perfect health; but the shroud appearing close about her head, was the ground of his confidence that her death was at hand. the same person foretold the death of a child in his master's arms, by seeing a spark of fire fall on his left arm; and this was likewise accomplished soon after the prediction. some of the inhabitants of harris, sailing round the isle of skye, with a design to go to the opposite mainland, were strangely surprised with an apparition of two men hanging down by the ropes that secured the mast, but could not conjecture what it meant; they pursued their voyage, but the wind turning contrary, they were forced into broad-ford, in the isle of skye, where they found sir donald macdonald keeping a sheriff's court, and two criminals receiving sentence of death there. the ropes and mast of that very boat were made use of to hang those criminals. this was told the author by several, who had this instance related to them by the boat's crew. several persons, living in a certain family, told the author that they had frequently seen two men standing at a gentle-woman's left hand, who was their master's daughter; they told the men's names, and being her equals, it was not doubted but she would be married to one of them; and perhaps to the other after the death of the first. some time after a third man appeared, who seemed always to stand nearest to her of the three, but the seers did not know him, though they could describe him exactly; and within some months after, this man who was seen last, actually came to the house, and fully answered the description given of him by those who never saw him but in a vision; and he married the woman shortly after. they live in the isle of skye, and both themselves and others confirmed the truth of this instance when the author saw them. archibald macdonald, of the parish of st. mary's, in the isle of skye, being reputed famous in his skill of foretelling things to come, by the second-sight, happening to be in the village knockow one night, and before supper, told the family that he had just then seen the strangest thing he ever saw in his life, viz., a man with an ugly long cap, always shaking his head; but that the strangest of all was a little kind of a harp which he had, with four strings only, and that it had two hart's horns fixed in the front of it. all that heard this odd vision fell a laughing at archibald, telling him that he was dreaming, or had not his wits about him, since he pretended to see a thing which had no being, and was not so much as heard of in any part of the world. all this could not alter archibald's opinion, who told them that they must excuse him if he laughed at them after the accomplishment of the vision. archibald returned to his own house, and within three or four days after, a man with a cap, harp, &c., came to the house, and the harp, strings, horns, and cap, answered the description of them at first view, and he shook his head when he played; for he had two bells fixed to his cap. this harper was a poor man, who made himself a buffoon for his bread, and was never seen before in those parts, and at the time of the prediction he was in the isle of barray, which is about twenty leagues distant from that part of skye. this relation is vouched by mr. daniel martin, and all his family, and such as were then present; and they live in the village where this happened. one daniel nicholson, minister of st. mary's, in skye, the parish in which mr. archibald macdonald lived, told the author, that one sunday, after sermon, at the chapel uge, he took an occasion to inquire of archibald, if he still retained that unhappy faculty of seeing the second-sight, and wished him to get rid of it, if possible; for, said he, it is no true character of a good man. archibald was highly displeased, and answered, that he hoped he was no more unhappy than his neighbours, for seeing what they could not perceive. i had, said he, as serious thoughts as my neighbours in time of hearing a sermon to-day, and even then i saw a corpse laid on the ground, close to the pulpit; and i assure you it will be accomplished shortly, for it was in the day-time. there were none in the parish then sick, and few are buried at that little chapel, nay, sometimes, not one in a year. yet when mr. nicholson returned to preach in the said chapel, a fortnight or three weeks after, he found one buried in the very spot named by archibald. this story is vouched by mr. nicholson the minister, and several of the parishioners still living. note, that it is counted by many an argument of somewhat evil attending upon this faculty of the second-sight, because there are instances given of some persons who have been freed of it upon using some christian practices; but i shall hereafter show that this opinion cannot be entirely true. sir norman macleod, who has his residence in the isle of bernera, which lies between the isles of north uist and harris, went to the isle of skye about business, without appointing any time for his return; his servants, in his absence, being altogether in the large hall at night; one of them, who had the second-sight, told the rest they must remove, for there would be abundance of other company in the hall that night. one of his fellow-servants answered that there was very little likelihood of that, because of the darkness of the night, and the danger of coming through the rocks that lie round the isle; but within an hour after, one of sir norman's men came to the house, bidding them provide lights, &c., for his master had newly landed. sir norman being told of this, called for the seer and examined him about it. he answered, that he had seen the spirit brownie, in human shape, come several times and make a show of carrying an old woman, that sat by the fire, to the door, and at last seemed to carry her out by neck and heels, which made him laugh heartily, and gave occasion to the rest to conclude him mad, to laugh so much without any reason. this instance was told the author by sir norman himself. four men from the isle of skye and harris went to barbadoes, and stayed there some years; who though they had wont to see the second-sight in their native country, never saw it in barbadoes; but upon their return to england, the first night after their landing, they saw the second-sight; as the author was told by several of their acquaintance. john morrison, who lives in bernera, of harris, wears the plant called _fuga dæmonum_ sewed in the neck of his coat, to prevent his seeing of visions, and says, he never saw any since he first carried that plant about him. a spirit, by the country people called brownie, was frequently seen in all the most considerable families in the isles, and north of scotland, in the shape of a tall man, having very long brown hair; but within these twenty years past he has been seen but rarely. there were spirits also that appeared in the shape of women, horses, swine, cats, and some like fiery bulls, which would follow men in the fields; but there have been but few instances of these for upwards of forty years past. these spirits used also to form sounds in the air, resembling those of a harp, pipes, crowing of a cock, and of the grinding of hand-mills; and sometimes voices have been heard in the air at night, singing irish songs; the words of which songs some of the author's acquaintances still retain; one of them resembled the voice of a woman who died some time before, and the song related to her state in the other world. all these accounts, the author says, he had from persons of as great integrity as any are in the world. so far mr. martin, whose account is so long, that i have given the reader only a short abridgment thereof; and shall therefore satisfy myself, without relating any further passages, by directing the reader to others also, learned men, who have written on the same subject. laurentius ananias printed a volume in latin, at venice, anno , about the nature of demons; where, in the third book, he writes concerning the second-sight. the learned camerarius does the like, and names a person of his own acquaintance whom he testifies to have had that gift. st. austin himself testifies something (not very different from what we now call the gift of the second-sight) of one curina, who lived in the country of hippo, in africa. bonaysteau tells us something like it in his _disc. de excell. et dig. hominis_, concerning the spirit of hermotimus. so do likewise herodotus and maximus tyrius, about the spirit of aristæus. cardan does the same in his _de rerum variet._ . . c. , of his kinsman baptista cardan, a student at pavia. baptista fulgosus tells us of what we call the second-sight, in other words, in his _fact. et dict. memorab._ . i. c. . among our own countrymen, the lord henry howard, in the book he writ against supposed prophecies, in his seventeenth chapter, tells us a wonderful story of this kind of sight; and sure that noble lord may be looked upon as an unexceptionable testimony, in a story he relates of his own knowledge, he having otherwise little faith in things of this kind. mr. cotton mather, a minister of new england, in his relation of the wonders of the invisible world, inserted in his ecclesiastical history of that country, printed in london, anno , in folio, has given us several instances of this kind, as also of many other diabolical operations. mr. baxter's book concerning the certainty of the world of spirits, has the like proofs in it. mr. aubrey, fellow of the royal society, has written largely concerning second-sighted persons; so has mr. beaumont, in his book of genii and familiar spirits, who has collected almost all the other accounts together; and many others, whose very names it would be tedious to recite. however, as there are a few more passages, very curious in themselves, i will venture so far upon the reader's patience, as not only to recite the names of the authors, but the accounts themselves, in as succinct and brief a manner as it is possible for any one to do. mr. th. may, in his history, lib. viii. writes, that an old man, like a hermit, second-sighted, took his leave of king james i. when he came into england; he took little notice of prince henry, but addressing himself to the duke of york, since king charles i., fell a weeping to think what misfortunes he should undergo; and that he should be one of the most miserable and most unhappy princes that ever was. a scotch nobleman sent for one of these second-sighted men out of the highlands, to give his judgment of the then great george villiers, duke of buckingham. as soon as ever he saw him; pish, said he, he will come to nothing, i see a dagger in his breast; and he was stabbed in the breast by captain felton, as has been at large recounted in some of the foregoing pages. sir james melvin hath several the like passages in his history. a certain old man in south wales, told a great man there of the fortune of his family, and that there should not be a third male generation. it has fallen out accordingly. sir william dugdale with his own mouth informed several gentlemen, that major-general middleton (since lord) went into the highlands of scotland to endeavour to make a party for king charles i. an old gentleman, that was second-sighted, came and told him that his endeavour was good, but he would be unsuccessful; and, moreover, that they would put the king to death; and that several other attempts would be made, but all in vain; but that his son would come in, but not reign in a long time; but would at last be restored. this lord middleton had a great friendship with the laird bocconi, and they made an agreement, that the first of them that died should appear to the other in extremity. the lord middleton was taken prisoner at worcester fight, and was prisoner in the tower of london, under three locks. lying in his bed, pensive, bocconi appeared to him; my lord middleton asked him if he were dead or alive? he said, dead; and that he was a ghost; and told him that within three days he should escape, and he did so, in his wife's clothes; when he had done his message, he gave a frisk, and said-- givanni, givanni, 'tis very strange, in the world to see so sudden a change; and then gathered up and vanished. this account sir william dugdale had from the bishop of edinburgh; and this account he hath writ in a book of miscellanies, which is now reposited, with other books of his, in the museum at oxford. thus the reader sees what great authorities may be produced to prove that wonderful and true predictions have been delivered by many persons gifted with the second-sight. the most learned men in almost all nations, who are not in all likelihood deceived themselves; the most celebrated and authentic historians, and some divines in england, who, it is not to be thought, have combined together and made it their business to obtrude upon us falsehoods; persons of all ranks, from the highest to the lowest, in scotland, who, it would be even madness to think would join in a confederacy to impose tricks upon us, and to persuade us to the greatest of impostures as solemn truths delivered from their own mouths; all these, i say, have unanimously, and, as it were, with one voice, asserted, repeated, and confirmed to us, that there have been at all times, and in many different nations, and that still there are persons, who, possessed with the gift of a second sight, predict things that wonderfully come to pass; and seem to merit very little less than the name of prophets for their miraculous discoveries. now, if any man should come, and without giving the least manner of reason for it (for there is no reason to be given against such assertions), declare his disbelief of all these authentic, though strange accounts, can he with reason imagine that his incredulity shall pass for a token of wisdom? shall his obstinacy confute the learned? shall his want of faith be thought justly to give the lie to so many persons of the highest honour and quality, and of the most undoubted integrity? in fine, shall his infidelity, by a reverse kind of power to that which is attributed to the philosopher's stone, be able to change the nature of things, turn and transmute truth into falsehood, and make a downright plain matter of fact to be no more than a chimera, or an _ens rationis_? and shall a manifest experience be so easily exploded? taking it, therefore, for granted, that no modest man whatsoever, though never so hard of belief, which is certainly as great a weakness as that of too much credulity, will make bold openly to declare his disbelief of things so well attested; and taking it much more for granted still, that it is impossible for any man of common sense to have the front of declaring his disbelief of them in such a manner as to urge it for an argument and a reason why others should disbelieve them too; taking this, i say, as i think i very well may, for granted, i think there remains nothing farther for me to offer, before i conclude this chapter, except a few remarks as to the similitude there is between those actions which i have related above to have been performed by mr. campbell, and these actions which so many learned, ingenious, and noble authors, as i have just now quoted, have asserted to have been performed by persons whom they knew to be gifted with the second-sight. as to what is said several pages above, concerning duncan campbell when a boy at edinburgh, that he even told his little companions who would have success at their little matches when they played at marbles, and that he informed a great gamester there, whose name i have disguised under that of count cog, what times he should choose to play if he would win, as ludicrous as it may have appeared to be, and as much as it may have seemed to my readers to carry with it nothing better than the face of invention and the air of fiction, yet if they will be at the pains of comparing that passage of duncan campbell's with the account given in this chapter from the mouth of sir norman macleod, concerning a man, who, though he never played at tables in his life, instructed a skilful gamester, when he was at a stand, to place one of his men right, upon which the whole game depended, which the ignorant fellow, when asked how he came to do it, said he was directed to by the spirit brownie; whoever, i say, will be at the pains of comparing these passages together, will find they bear a very near resemblance, and that the way we may most reasonably account for duncan campbell's prediction when he was a boy, must be, that he was at that time directed by his little genius or familiar spirit, which i described in the precedent pages, as this fellow was by the spirit brownie, according to sir norman macleod's assertion; which spirit brownie, as mr. martin, a very good and credited writer, assures us, in his history of the western islands, dedicated to the late prince george of denmark, is a spirit usually seen all over that country. if the reader recollects, he will remember likewise, that in the little discourse which i mentioned to have been held between me and this duncan campbell, when a boy, concerning his little genius, i there say, the boy signified to me that he smelt venison, and was sure that some one would come to his mother's house shortly after; accordingly i came thither that morning from the death of a deer, and ordered a part of it to be brought after me to her house. now mr. martin's twelfth observation about the second-sight, in this chapter, clears it plainly up that this knowledge in the boy proceeded from the gift of second-sight. not to give the reader too often the trouble of looking back in order to judge of the truth of what i say, i will here repeat that observation, which is as follows: things are also foretold by smelling sometimes: for example, fish or flesh is frequently smelt in the fire, when, at the same time, neither of the two are in the house, or, in any probability, like to be had in it for some weeks or months. this smell several persons have, who are, endued with the second-sight, and it is always accomplished soon after. but i will here omit any farther remarks by way of accounting how he compassed his predictions when a boy, either by the intervention of his genius, or the gift of a second-sight; and examine how nearly those things, which i have related to have been done by him in his more advanced years, when he took up the profession of a predictor, in london, correspond with the accounts given us in this chapter about a second-sight, and how near a resemblance the things done by him bear to those things that are so well attested to have been performed by others, through the efficacious power of this wonderful faculty. first, then, if we have a mind to make a tolerable guess which way mr. campbell came acquainted that the death of the beautiful young lady, miss w--lw--d was so near at hand, and that, though she was so universally admired she would die unmarried, the accounts given of other second-sighted persons in the like cases, will put us in the most probable way of guessing right. this is explained by the seventh observation in this chapter, where it is said from mr. martin, that when a shroud is perceived about one, it is a sure prognostic of death; the time is judged according to the height of it, about the person; for if it be not seen above the middle, death is not to be expected for the space of a year or longer, but as it comes nearer to the head it is expected sooner; if to the very head, it is concluded to be at hand within a few days, if not hours. of this we have an example, of which mr. martin was an eye-witness, concerning the death of his own acquaintance; but he did not in the least regard it, till the death of the person, about the time foretold, confirmed to him the certainty of the prediction. secondly, as to the ignominious death that irwin came to, and which he predicted to his mother so long before, when she was in flourishing circumstances, and when there was no appearance that any of her children should be brought to a beggarly condition, and learn among base gangs of company to thieve, and be carried to the gallows; the story told in this chapter of some of the inhabitants of harris, sailing round the isle of skye, and seeing the apparition of two men hanging by the ropes on the mast of their vessel, and when they came to the opposite mainland, finding two criminals just sentenced to death by sir donald macdonald, and seeing their own very mast and ropes made choice of for their execution, clears up the manner how mr. campbell might predict this of irwin likewise, by the force of the second-sight. thirdly, as to mr. campbell's telling christallina the belle and chief toast of the court, and urbana the reigning beauty of the city, that they should shortly be married, and who were to be their husbands, it is a thing he has done almost every day in his life to one woman or other, that comes to consult him about the man she is to be married to; the manner he probably takes in doing this may be likewise explained by the foregoing story in this chapter about the servants, who said they saw three men standing by the left hand of their master's daughter; and that he that was nearest would marry her first, whom they plainly and exactly described, though they had never seen him but in their vision, as appeared afterwards. for within some months after, the very man described did come to the house, and did marry her. vide the eighth observation of the second-sight. fourthly, as to the predictions delivered by mr. campbell to the merchant, which are set down at length in the foregoing chapter, i know no better way at guessing the manner how the second-sight operated in him at that time, than by comparing them to these two instances, which i briefly repeat because they are set down at length before, in this chapter. and first it may be asked, how did the second-sight operate in mr. campbell, when it gave him to know that the merchant's ships, which repeated intelligences had in appearance confirmed to be lost, were at that time safe, and would return securely home into the harbour designed? the best way of accounting for it, that i know, is by the story that sir norman macleod is above affirmed to have told with his own mouth, concerning a servant of his, who rightly foretold his returning home and landing on the isle of bernera one night, where his residence is, when there was very little or no likelihood of it, because of the darkness of the night, and the danger of coming through the rocks that lie round the isle. when sir norman examined him about it, he answered that he knew it by a vision of the spirit brownie; and hence it may be the most probably conjectured that mr. campbell's knowledge of the merchant's ships being safe came from a vision of his particular genius, or familiar spirit, which we spoke of before. what i have already instanced in, is, i think, sufficient with regard to the wonderful things which mr. campbell has performed, either by the intervention of a genius, or the power of a second-sight. but as he has frequently done a great many amazing performances, which seem to be of such a nature that they can't be well and clearly explained to have been done either by the intervention of his familiar spirit and genius, or by the power of the second-sighted faculty, we must have recourse to the third means by which only such predictions and practises can be compassed, before we expound these new mysteries, which appear like incredible riddles, and enigmas at the first; and this third means which we must have recourse to for expounding these strange acts of his, is a due consideration of the force and power of natural magic, which, together with a narrative of the acts, which he seems magically to bring about, will be the subject of the following chapter. chapter viii. but before we proceed to our disquisitions concerning the power and efficacy of natural magic, and examine what mysterious operations may be brought about and compassed by magical practises, and before we take a farther survey of what mr. campbell has performed in this kind, that relates to his profession and the public part of his life, which concerns other people as well as himself; i shall here relate some singular adventures that he passed through in his private life, and which regard only his own person. in order to this, i must return back to the year , about which time some unaccountable turns of fortune attended him in his own private capacity, which must be very surprising and entertaining to my readers, when they find a man, whose foresight was always so great a help and assistance to others, who consulted him in their own future affairs, helpless, as it has been an observation concerning all such men in the account of the second-sight, and blind in his own future affairs, tossed up and down by inevitable and spiteful accidents of fortune, and made the may-game of chance and hazard, as if that wayward and inconstant goddess, was resolved to punish him, when she catched him on the blind side, for having such a quick insight and penetrating faculty in other people's matters, and scrutinizing too narrowly into her mysteries, and so sometimes preventing those fatal intentions of hers, into which she would fain lead many mortals hood-winked, and before they knew where they were. in this light, these mighty and famous seers seem to be born for the benefit and felicity of others, but at the same time to be born to unhappiness themselves. and certainly, inasmuch as we consider them as useful and beneficial often, but always satisfactory to persons who are curious in their enquiries about their fortunes, it will be natural to those of us who have the least share of generosity in our minds, to yield our pity and compassion to them, when they are remarkably unfortunate themselves; especially when that calamity seems more particularly to light upon them for their ability, and endeavour to consult the good fortune of other folks. about the above-mentioned year, , duncan campbell grew a little tired of his profession; such a multitude of followers troubled him, several of whom were wild youths, and came to banter him, and many more too inquisitive females to tease him with endless impertinences, and who, the more he told them, had still the more to ask, and whose curiosity was never to be satisfied: and besides this, he was so much envied, and had so many malicious artifices daily practised against him, that he resolved to leave off his profession. he had, i know, followed it pretty closely from the time i first saw him in london, which was, i think, in the beginning of the year , till the year , with very good success; and in those few years he had got together a pretty round sum of money. our young seer was now at man's estate, and had learned the notion that he was to be his own governor, so far as to be his own counsellor too in what road of life he was to take, and this consideration no doubt worked with a deeper impression on his mind, than it usually does on others that are in the same blossom and pride of manhood, because it might appear more natural for him to believe that he had a sufficient ability to be his own proper adviser, who had given so many others, and some more aged than himself, counsel, with very good success. now every experienced person knows, that when manhood is yet green, it is still in the same dangerous condition as a young plant, which is liable to be warped by a thousand cross fortuitous accidents, if good measures be not taken to support it against all the contingent shocks it may meet with from the weather or otherwise. now, it was his misfortune to be made averse to business, which he loved before, by having too much of it, and to be so soured by meeting with numerous perplexities and malicious rubs laid in his way by invidious people, (who are the useless and injurious busy-bodies that always repine at the good of others, and rejoice to do harm to the diligent and assiduous, though they reap no profit by it themselves), that he was disgusted and deterred entirely from the prosecution of a profession by which he got not only a competent but a copious and plentiful subsistence. nay, indeed, this was another mischief arising to him from his having so much business, that he had got money enough to leave it off, when the perplexities of it had made him willing to do so, and to live very comfortably and handsomely, like a gentleman, without it, for a time; and we know the youngest men are not wont to look the farthest before them, in matters that concern their own welfare. now, inasmuch as he had thus taken a disgust to business and application, and was surfeited, as i may say, with the perplexities of it, it must be as natural for him, we know, to search for repose in the contrary extreme, viz., recreation and idleness, as it is for a man to seek rest after toil, to sleep after a day's labour, or to sit down after a long and tiresome walk. but there are two very distinct sorts of idleness, and two very different kinds of recreation; there is a shameful idleness which is no better than downright sloth; and there is a splendid kind of indolence, where a man having taken an aversion to the wearisomeness of a business which properly belongs to him, neglects not however to employ his thoughts, when they are vacant from what they ought more chiefly to be about, in other matters not entirely unprofitable in life, the exercise of which he finds he can follow with more abundant ease and satisfaction. there are some sorts of recreations, too, that are mean, sordid, and base; others that are very innocent, though very diverting, and that will give one the very next most valuable qualifications of a gentleman, after those which are obtained by a more serious application of the mind. the idea which i have already given my readers of our duncan campbell, will easily make them judge, before i tell them, which way, in these two ways, his genius would naturally lead him; and that, when he grew an idle man, he would rather indulge himself with applying his mind to the shining trifles of life, than be wholly slothful and inactive; and that when he diverted himself he would not do it after a sordid, base manner, as having a better taste and a relish for good company; but that his recreations would still be the recreations of a gentleman. and just, accordingly, as my readers would naturally judge beforehand in his case, so it really happened. the moment he shook off business, and dismissed the thoughts of it, his genius led him to a very gallant way of life; in his lodgings, in his entertainments, in paying and receiving visits, in coffee-houses, in taverns, in fencing-schools, in balls, and other public assemblies, in all ways, in fine, both at home and abroad, duncan campbell was a well-comported and civil fine gentleman; he was a man of pleasure, and nothing of the man of business appeared about him. but a gentleman's life, without a gentleman's estate, however shining and pleasant it may be for a time, will certainly end in sorrow, if not in infamy; and comparing life, as moralists do, to a day, one may safely pronounce this truth to all the splendid idlers i have mentioned, that if they have sunshiny weather till noon, yet the afternoon of their life will be very stormy, rainy and uncomfortable, and perhaps just at the end of their journey, to carry on the metaphor throughout, close in the darkest kind of night. of this, as i was a man of years and more experienced in the world than he, i took upon me to forewarn mr. campbell, as soon as i perceived the first dangerous fit of this elegant idleness had seized him. but when will young men, by so much the more headstrong as they have less of the beard, be guided and brought to learn! and when shall we see that happy age, in which the grey heads of old men shall be clapped upon the shoulders of youth! i told him, that in this one thing he ought to consult me, and acknowledge me to be a true prophet, if i told him the end of the seeming merry steps in life he was now taking, would infallibly bring him to a labyrinth of difficulties, out of which if he extricated himself at all, he would at least find it a laborious piece of work. his taste had been already vitiated with the sweets which lay at the top of the bitter draught of fortune, and my honest rugged counsel came too late to prevail, when his fancy had decoyed and debauched his judgment, and carried it over into another interest. i remember i writ down to him the moral story, where vicious pleasure and virtue are pictured by the philosopher to appear before hercules, to court him into two several paths. i told him more particularly, since he had not an estate to go through with the gentlemanly life, as he called it, that, if he followed the alluring pleasures which endeavoured to tempt hercules, he would involve himself at last in a whole heap of miseries, out of which it would be more than an herculean labour for him to disentangle himself again. if he had been a man that could have ever heard with either, i would have told the reader in a very familiar idiom, that he turned the deaf ear to me; for he did not mind one syllable or tittle of the prescriptions i set down for him, no more than if he had never read them; but, varying the phrase a little, i may say at least, when he should have looked upon my counsel with all the eyes he had, he turned the blind side upon it. i was resolved to make use of the revenge natural to a man of years, and therefore applied that reproachful proverb to him, which we ancients delight much in making use of to youths that follow their own false and hot imaginations, and will not heed the cooler dictates of age, experience, and wisdom. accordingly, i wrote down to him these words, and left him in a seeming passion: i am very well assured, young man, you think me that am old, to be a fool; but i that am old, absolutely know you, who are a young fellow, to be a downright fool, and so i leave you to follow your own ways, till sad and woful experience teaches you to know it your own self, and makes you come to me to own it of your own accord. as i was going away, after this tart admonition and severe reprimand, i had a mind to observe his countenance, and i saw him smile, which i rightly construed to be done in contempt of the advice of age, and in the gaiety and fulness of conceit, which youth entertains of its own fond opinions and hair-brained rash resolves. he was got into the company of a very pretty set of gentlemen, whose fortunes were far superior to his; but he followed the same genteel exercises, as fencing, &c., and made one at all their public entertainments; and so being at an equal expense with those who could well afford to spend what they did out of their estates, he went on very pleasantly for a time, still spending and never getting, without ever considering that it must, by inevitable consequence, fall to his lot at last to be entirely reduced to a state of indigence and want. and what commonly heightens the misfortune of such men, and so of all gentlemen's younger brothers, who live upon the ready money that is given them for their portions, is, that the prosperity they live in for a time gains them credit enough just to bring them in debt, and render them more miserable than those very wretches who never had either any money or credit at all. they run themselves into debt out of shame, and to put off the evil day of appearing ruined men as long as they can, and then, when their tempers are soured by adversity, they grow tired of their own lives; and then, in a quarrel, they or some other gentleman, may be, is run through, or else being hunted by bailiffs, they exercise their swords upon those pursuers. thus, where gentlemen will not consider their circumstances, their very prosperity is a cause of, and aggravates their misery; their very pride, which was a decent pride at first, in keeping up and maintaining their credit, subjects them too often to the lowest and the meanest acts, and their courage, which was of a laudable kind, turns into a brutish and savage rage; and all the fine, esteemed, flourishing, and happy gentleman ends, and is lost in the contemned, poor and miserable desperado, whose portion at last is confinement and a gaol, and sometimes even worse, and what i shall not so much as name here. into many of these calamities mr. campbell had brought himself before it was long, by his heedlessness, and running, according to the wild dictates of youth, counter to all sound and wholesome advice. he had, it seems, run himself into debt, and one day as he was at a coffee-house, the sign of the three crowns, in great queen-street, in rushed four bailiffs upon him, who being directed by the creditor's wife, had watched him into that house, and told him they had a warrant against him, and upon his not answering, they being unacquainted with his being deaf and dumb, offered to seize his sword. he startled at their offering of violence, and taking them for ruffians, which he had often met with, repelled the assaulters, and drawing his sword, as one man, more bold than the rest, closed in with him, he shortened his blade, and in the fall pinned the fellow through the shoulder, and himself through the leg, to the floor. after that he stood at bay with all the four officers, when the most mischievous assailant of them all, the creditor's wife, ventured to step into the fray, and very barbarously took hold of that nameless part of the man, for which, as she was a married woman, nature methinks should have taught her to have a greater tenderness, and almost squeezed and crushed those vitals to death. but at last he got free from them all, and was going away as fast as he could, not knowing what consequences might ensue. but the woman who aimed herself at committing murder, in the most savage and inhuman manner, ran out after him, crying out, murder! murder! as loud as she could, and alarmed the whole street. the bailiffs following the woman, and being bloody from head to foot, by means of the wound he received, gave credit to the outcry. the late earl rivers's footmen happening to be at the door, ran immediately to stop the supposed murderer, and they indeed did take him at last, but perceived their mistake, and discovered that instead of being assistants in taking a man whom they thought to be a murderer endeavouring to make his escape from the hands of justice, they had only been tricked in by that false cry to be adjutants to a bailiff in retaking a gentleman, who, by so gallant a defence, had rescued himself from the dangers of a prison; and when they had discovered this their mistake they were mighty sorry for what they had done. the most active and busy among the earl's footmen was a dutchman, and the earl happening to be in a room next the street, and hearing the outcry of murder, stepped to the window, and seeing his own servants in the midst of the bustle, examined the dutchman how the matter was, and, being told it, he chid the man for being concerned in stopping a gentleman that was getting free from such troublesome companions. but the dutchman excused himself, like a dutchman, by making a very merry blunder for a reply; _sacramente_, said he, to his lord, if i had thought they were bailiffs, i would have fought for the poor dumb gentlemen, but then why had he not told me they were bailiffs, my lord? in short, duncan campbell was carried off as their prisoner; but the bailiff that was wounded was led back to the coffee-house, where he pretended the wound was mortal, and that he despaired of living an hour. the proverb, however, was of the fellow's side, and he recovered sooner than other people expected he could. as soon as all danger was over, an action for damages and smart money, as their term is, was brought against mr. campbell; the damages were exaggerated and the demand was so extravagant, that duncan campbell was neither able, just at that time, nor willing, had he been able, to pay so much, as he thought, in his own wrong, and having no bail, and being ashamed to make his case known to his better sort of friends, who were both able and willing to help him at a dead lift, he was hurried away to gaol by the bailiffs, who showed such a malignant and insolent pleasure, as commonly attends powerful revenge, when they put him into the marshalsea. there he lay in confinement six weeks, till at last four or five of his chief friends came by mere chance to hear of it; immediately they consulted about his deliverance, and unanimously resolved to contribute for his enlargement, and they accordingly went across the water together, and procured it out of hand. two of his benefactors were officers, and were just then going over to flanders. duncan campbell, to whom they communicated their design, was resolved to try his fortune in a military way, out of a roving kind of humour, raised in him partly by his having taken a sort of aversion to his own profession in town, and partly by his finding that he could not live, without following a profession, as he had done, any longer. he, over a bottle, frankly imparted his mind to them at large; he signified to them that he hoped, since they had lately done him so great a favour in freeing him from one captivity, they would not think him too urgent if he pressed for one favour farther, upon natures so generous as theirs, by whom he took as great a pleasure in being obliged, as he could receive in being capable of obliging others. he wrote to them that the favour he meant was to redeem him from another captivity, almost as irksome to him as that out of which they had lately ransomed him. this captivity, continued he, is being either forced to follow my old profession, which i have taken an entire disgust to, for a maintenance, or being forced to live in a narrower way than suits with my genius, and the better taste i have of higher life. such a state, gentlemen, you know, is more unpalatable than half-pay; it is like either being forced to go upon the forlorn hope, or else like a man's being an entirely cashiered and broken officer, that had no younger brother's fortune, and no other support but his commission. thus, though you have set my body at liberty, my soul is still under an imprisonment, and will be till i leave england, and can find means of visiting flanders, which i can do no otherwise than by the advantage of having you for my convoy. i have a mighty longing to experience some part of a military life, and i fancy, if you will grant me your interest, and introduce me to the valiant young lord lorne, and be spokesmen for a dumb man, i shall meet with a favourable reception; and as for you, gentlemen, after having named that great patron and pattern of courage and conduct in the field, i can't doubt but the very name i bear, if you had not known me, would have made you take me for a person of a military genius, and that i should do nothing but what would become a british soldier, and a gentleman; nothing, in fine, that should make you repent the recommendation. these generous and gallant friends of his, it seems, complied with his request, and promised they would make application for him to the lord lorne, and duncan campbell had nothing to do but to get his bag and baggage ready, and provide himself with a pass. his baggage was not very long a getting together, and he had it in tolerable good order, and as for his pass, a brother of the lord forbes was so kind as to procure him one upon the first application duncan made to him. accordingly, in a few days afterwards, they went on board, and having a speedy and an easy passage, arrived soon at rotterdam. duncan met with some of his english acquaintance in that town, and his mind being pretty much bent upon rambling, and seeing all the curiosities, customs, and humours he could, in all the foreign places he was to pass through, he went, out of a frolic, with some gentlemen, next day, in a boat to an adjacent village, to make merry over a homely dutch entertainment, the intended repast being to consist of what the boors there count a great delicacy, brown bread and white beer. he walked out of sight from his company, and they lost one another; and strolling about by himself at an unseasonable hour, as they call it there after the bell has tolled, duncan campbell, who neither knew their laws, nor if he had, was capable of being guided by the notice which their laws ordain, was taken into custody in the village, for that night, and carried away the next day to williamstadt, where he was taken for a spy, and put into a close imprisonment for three or four days. but some scotch gentlemen, who had been in company with mr. campbell at mr. cloysterman's, a painter in covent-garden, made their application to the magistrate and got him released; he knew his friends the officers, that carried him over, were gone forward to the camp, and that there was no hope of finding them at rotterdam, if he should go thither, and so he resolved, since he had had so many days punishment in williamstadt, to have three or four days pleasure there too, by way of amends, before he would set out on his journey after his friends. but on the third night he got very much in drink; and as he went very boisterously and disorderly along, a sentry challenged him; and the want of the sense of hearing had like to have occasioned the loss of his life. the sentry fired at him and narrowly missed him; he was taken prisoner, not without some resistance, which was so far innocent, as that he knew not any reason why he should be seized; but very troublesome and unwarrantable in so orderly a town; so the governor's secretary, after the matter was examined into, judging it better for the unhappy gentleman's future safety, advised him to return home to his own country, and accordingly bespoke him a place in a dutch ship called yowfrow catherine, for his passage to england. duncan campbell had taken up this humour of rambling, first, of his own accord, and the troubles which he had run himself into by it, we may reasonably suppose had pretty well cured him of that extravagant itch; and there is little doubt to be made but that he rejoiced very heartily when he was got on board the ship to return to england; and that in his new resolutions he had reconciled himself to the prosecution of his former profession, and intended to set up for a predictor again as soon as he could arrive at london. but now fortune had not a mind to let him go off so; he had had his own fancy for rambling, and now she was resolved to have hers, and to give him his bellyful of caprice. accordingly, when the dutch ship, called yowfrow catherine, was making the best of her road for london, and each person in the vessel was making merry, filled with the hopes of a quick and prosperous passage, a french privateer appeared in sight, crowding all the sails she could, and bearing towards them with all haste and diligence. the privateer was double-manned, and carried thirty guns; the dutch vessel was defenceless in comparison; and the people on board had scarce time to think, and to deplore that they should be made a prey of, before they actually were so, and had reason enough given them for their sorrow. all the passengers, to a single man, were stripped, and had french seamen's jackets in exchange for their clothes. duncan campbell had now a taste given him of the fate of war, as well as of the humour of travelling, and wished himself again, i warrant him, among his greatest crowd of consulters, as tiresome as he thought business to be, instead of being in the middle of a crew of sea savages. the town where the dumb prisoner was at last confined was denain. there happened to be some english friars there, who were told by the others who he was, and to them he applied himself in writing, and received from them a great deal of civil treatment. but a certain man of the order of recollects, happening to see him there, who had known him in england, and what profession he followed, caused him to be called to question, as a man that made use of ill means to tell fortunes. when he was questioned by a whole society of these religious men, he made them such pertinent and satisfactory answers in writing, that he convinced them he had done nothing for which he deserved their reprimand; and they unanimously acquitted him. the heads of his defence, as i have been informed, were these:-- first, he alleged that the second-sight was inborn and inbred in some men; and that every country had had examples of it more or less; but that the country of scotland, in which he was educated from an infant, abounded the most of any with those sort of people; and from thence he said he thought he might very naturally draw this conclusion, that a faculty that was inborn and inbred to men, and grown almost a national faculty among a people who were remarkably honest, upright, and well-meaning people, could not, without some impiety, be imputed to the possessors of it as a sin; and when one of the fathers rejoined that it was remarked by several writers of the second-sight, that it must be therefore sinful, because it remained no longer among the people when the doctrines of christianity were fully propagated, and the light of the gospel increased among them; and that afterwards it affected none but persons of vicious lives and an ill character; to this objection mr. campbell replied, that he knew most (even ingenious) writers had made that remark concerning the second-sight, but begged leave to be excused, if he ventured to declare that it was no better than a vulgar and common error; and the reasons were these, which he alleged in his own behalf; and to confirm his assertion, he told them men of undoubted probity, virtue, and learning, both of their own religion, viz., the roman catholic, and also of the reformed religion, and in several nations, had been affected, and continued all their lives to be affected, with this second-sighted power, and that there could be, therefore, no room to fix upon it the odious character of being a sinful and vicious, not to say that some called it still worse, a diabolical talent. he said he would content himself with making but two instances, because he believed those two would be enough to give content to them, his judges too, in that case. in his first instance he told them that they might find somewhat relating to this in nicolaus hemingius, who, in his tracts _de superstitionibus magicis_, printed at copenhagen, anno , informs the world, that petrus palladius, a bishop of see-landt, and professor of divinity at copenhagen, could, from a part of his body affected, foretell from what part of the heavens tempests would come, and was seldom deceived. one of the fathers immediately asked him if he understood latin? to this duncan campbell replied, no. oh! said the friar, then, i don't remember that book was ever translated into english, that you mention. but, rejoined duncan campbell, the passage i mentioned to you, i have read in an english book, and word for word, according to the best of my memory, as i have written it down to you. in what english book? said the friar. i don't remember the name of the book, duncan campbell answered, but very well remember the passages, and that it was in a book of authority, and which bore a credit and good repute in the world; and you, being scholars, may, if you please, have recourse to the learned original, and i doubt not but you'll find what i say to be a truth. for the second instance, he told them, that in spain, there are those they call saludadores, that have this kind of gift. there was, continued he, in writing, one of your own religion, venerable fathers, and of a religious order, nay, a friar too, that had this gift. he was a noted dominican, said he, and though i forget his name, you may, by writing a letter to england, learn his name. he was a devout portuguese, belonging to queen catherine dowager's chapel, and had the second-sight to a great degree, and was famous and eminent for it. they then asked him what was the full power he had to do by the second-sight. he answered, that as they had intimated that they had perused some of the skilful writers concerning the second-sight, he did not doubt but they had found, as well as he could tell them, that as to the extent of people's knowledge in that secret way, it reached both present, past, and future events. they foresee murders, drownings, weddings, burials, combats, manslaughters, &c., all of which there are many instances to be given. they commonly foresee sad events a little while before they happen; for instance, if a man's fatal end be hanging, they will see a gibbet, or rope about his neck; if beheading, they will see a man without a head; if drowning, they will see water up to his throat; if stabbing, they will see a dagger in his breast; if unexpected death in his bed, they will see a windingsheet about his head. they foretell not only marriages, but of good children; what kind of life men shall lead, and in what condition they shall die; also riches, honours, preferments, peace, plenty, and good weather. it is likewise usual with persons that have lost anything to go to some of these men, by whom they are directed how, with what persons, and in what place they shall find their goods. it is also to be noted that these gifts bear a latitude, so that some have it in a far more eminent degree than others; and what i have here written down to you, you need not take as a truth from me; but as it concerned me so nearly, i remember the passage by heart, and you will find it very near word for word in dr. beaumont's book of familiar spirits. aye, said the friars, but you have a genius too that attends you, as we are informed. so, replied duncan campbell, have all persons that have the second-sight in any eminent degree; and to prove this i will bring no less a witness than king james, who, in his demonology, book the third and chapter the second, mentions also a spirit called brownie, that was wont formerly to haunt divers houses, without doing any evil, but doing, as it were, necessary turns up and down the house; he appeared like a rough man, nay, some believed that their house was all the 'sonsier,' as they called it, that is, the more lucky or fortunate, that such spirits resorted there. with these replies the friars began to own they were very well satisfied, and acquiesced in the account he had given of himself as a very good, true, and honest account; but they told him they had still a farther accusation against him, and that was, that he practised magic arts, and that he used, as they had been informed, unlawful incantations. to this he made answer, that there were two kinds of magic, of which he knew they that were men of learning could not be ignorant. the art of magic, which is wicked and impious, continued he, is that which is professed, and has been professed at all times in the world, by witches, magicians, diviners, enchanters, and such like notorious profligates; who, by having an unnatural commerce with the devil, do many strange, prodigious, and preternatural acts, above and beyond all human wisdom; and all the arguments i ever did, or ever will deduce, continued he, from that black art, is a good and shining argument; it is this, o fathers: i draw a reason from these prodigious practices of wizards, magicians, enchanters, &c, and from all the heathen idolatry and superstition, to prove that there is a deity; for from these acts of theirs, being preternatural and above human wisdom, we may consequently infer that they proceed from a supernatural and immaterial cause, such as demons are. and this is all the knowledge i ever did or ever will draw from that black hellish art. but, fathers, there is another kind of art magic, called natural magic, which is directly opposite to theirs, and the object of which art is to do spiritual good to mankind, as the object of theirs is to torment them, and induce them to evil. they afflict people with torments, and my art relieves them from the torments they cause. the public profession of these magical arts has, as you know, fathers, it is a common distinction, between black and white magic, been tolerated in some of the most famous universities of christendom, though afterwards for a very good reason in politics, making it a public study to such a degree was very wisely retrenched by prohibition. if this, therefore, be a fault in your own opinions, hear my accusers, but if not, you will not only excuse, but commend me. the friars were extremely well pleased with his defence, but one of them had a mind to frighten him a little if he could, and asked him what he would say if he could produce some witches lately seized, that would swear he had been frequently at their unlawful assemblies, where they were making their waxen images and other odd mischievous inventions in black magic, to torment folks; what if i can produce such evidence against you, wrote the father to him, by way of strengthening the question, will you not own that we have convicted you then? and when he had wrote the note, he gave it duncan campbell, with a look that seemed to express his warmth and eagerness in the expostulation. duncan campbell took the paper and read it, and far from being startled, returned this answer, with a smile continuing in his face while he wrote it. no, said he, fathers, by your leave, they will only prove me a good magician by that oath, and themselves more plainly witches. they will prove their love to torment good folks, and only show their hatred to me, an innocent man, but wise enough to torment them by hindering them from tormenting others. the fathers were well pleased with the shrewdness of the answer; but duncan campbell had a mind to exert his genius a little farther with the good friar, who thought likewise he had put him a very shrewd question; so taking up another sheet of paper, fathers, said he, shall i entertain you with a story of what passed upon this head, between two religious fathers, as you all of you are, and a prince of germany, in which you will find that mine ought to be reputed a full answer to the question the last learned father was pleased to propose to me? the story is somewhat long, but very much to the purpose and entertaining; i remember it perfectly by heart, and if you will have patience while i am writing it, i do not doubt but that i shall not only satisfy you, but please you and oblige you with the relation. the author i found it in, quotes it from fromannus, (i think the man's name was so, and i am sure my author calls him a very learned man,) in his third book of magical incantation, and though i do not understand the language the original is writ in, yet i dare venture to say upon the credit of my english author, from whom i got the story by heart, that you will find me right whenever you shall be pleased to search. the friars were earnest for the story, and expressed a desire that he would write it down for them to read, which he did in the following words. note--that i have since compared mr. duncan campbell's manuscript with the author's page out of which he took it, and find it word for word the same; which shows how incomparable a memory this deaf and dumb gentleman has got, besides his other extraordinary qualifications. the story is this:-- a prince of germany invited two religious fathers, of eminent virtue and learning, to a dinner. the prince, at table, said to one of them: father, think you we do right in hanging persons, who are accused by ten or twelve witches, to have appeared at their meetings or sabbaths? i somewhat fear we are imposed on by the devil, and that it is not a safe way to truth, that we walk in by these accusations; especially since many great and learned men everywhere begin to cry out against it, and to charge our consciences with it; tell me, therefore, your opinion. to whom the fathers, being somewhat of an eager spirit, said; what should make us doubtful in this case? or what should touch our consciences, being convicted by so many testimonies? can we make it a scruple, whether god will permit innocent persons should be so traduced? there is no cause for a judge to stick at such a number of accusations, but he may proceed with safety. to which, when the prince had replied, and much had been said _pro_ and _con_ on both sides about it, and the father seemed wholly to carry the point, the prince at length concluded the dispute; saying, i am sorry for you, father, that in a capital cause you have condemned yourself, and you cannot complain if i commit you to custody; for no less than fifteen witches have deposed that they have seen you, ay, start not! you your ownself, at their meetings; and to show you that i am not in jest, i will presently cause the public acts to be brought for you to read them. the father stood in a maze, and with a dejected countenance had nothing here to oppose but confusion and silence, for all his learned eloquence. as soon as mr. campbell had wrote down the story, the fathers perused it, and seemed mightily entertained with it. it put an end to all farther questions, and the man whom they had been trying for a conjuror, they joined in desiring, upon distinct pieces of paper, under their several hands, to come frequently and visit them, as being not only a harmless and innocent, but an extraordinary well-meaning, good, and diverting companion. they treated him for some time afterwards during his stay, with the friendship due to a countryman, with the civility that is owing to a gentleman, and with the assistance and support which belonged to a person of merit in distress. money they had none themselves, it seems, to give him, being mendicants by their own profession; but they had interest enough to get him quite free from being prisoner; he participated of their eleemosynary table, had a cell allowed him among them in what they call their dormitory; he had an odd coat and a pair of trowsers made out of some of their brown coarse habits, by the poor unfashionable tailor, or botcher, belonging to the convent, and at last they found means of recommending him to a master of a french vessel that was ready to set sail, to give him a cast over the channel to england; and to provide him with the necessaries of life till he got to the port. this french vessel was luckier than the dutch one had been before to our dumb gentleman; it had a quick and prosperous passage, and arrived at portsmouth; and as soon as he landed there, he having experienced the misfortunes and casualties that a man in his condition, wanting both speech and hearing, was liable to, in places where he was an utter stranger to everybody, resolved to make no stay, but move on as fast as he could towards london. when he came to hampton town, considering the indifferent figure he made in those odd kind of clothes, which the poor friars had equipped him with, and that his long beard and an uncombed wig added much to the disguise, he was resolved to put on the best face he could, in those awkward circumstances, and stepped into the first barber's shop he came at to be trimmed and get his wig combed and powdered. this proved a very lucky thought to him; for as soon as he stepped into the first barber's shop, who should prove to be the master of it, but one tobit yeats, who had served him in the same capacity at london, and was but newly set up in the trade of a barber-surgeon, at hampton town, and followed likewise the profession of schoolmaster. this tobit yeats had shaved him quite, before he knew him in that disguise; and mr. campbell, though he knew him presently, had a mind to try if he should be known himself first; at length the barber finding him to be a dumb man, by his ordering everything with motions of the hand and gestures of the body, looked at him very earnestly, remembered him, and in a great surprise called for pen, ink, and paper, and begged to know how he came to be in that disguise; whether he was under any misfortune, and apprehension of being discovered, that made him go in so poor and so clownish a habit, and tendered him any services, as far as his little capacity would reach, and desired him to be free, and command him; if he was able to assist him in anything. these were the most comfortable words that duncan campbell had read a great while. he took the pen and paper in his turn; related to him his whole story, gave the poor barber thanks for his good natured offer, and said he would make so much use of it, as to be indebted to him for so much money as would pay the stage-coach, and bear him in his travelling expenses up to london, from whence he would speedily return the favour with interest. the poor honest fellow, out of gratitude to a master whose liberality he had formerly experienced, immediately furnished mr. duncan campbell with that little supply, expressing the gladness of his heart that it lay in his power; and the stage-coach being to set out within but a few hours, he ran instantly to the inn to see if he could get him a place. by good luck, there was room, and but just room for one more, which pleased duncan campbell mightily, when he was acquainted with it by his true and trusty servant the barber; for he was as impatient to see london again, it seems, as he had been before to quit it. well, he had his wish; and when he came to london, he had one wish more for fortune to bestow upon him, which appeared to begin to grow kind again, after her fickle fit of cruelty was over; and this wish was, that he might find his former lodgings empty, and live in the same house as he did when he followed his profession. this too succeeded according to his desire, and he was happily fixed once more to his heart's content in his old residence, with the same people of the house round about him, who bore him all that respect and affection, and showed all that readiness and willingness to serve him on every occasion and at every turn, which could be expected from persons that let lodgings in town to a gentleman, whom they esteemed the best tenant they ever had in their lives, or ever could have. immediately the tidings of the dumb gentleman's being returned home from beyond sea, spread throughout all the neighbourhood; and it was noised about from one neighbourhood to another, till it went through all ranks and conditions, and was known as well in a day or two's time, all the town over, as if he had been some great man belonging to the state, and his arrival had been notified to the public in the gazette, as a person of the last importance. and such a person he appeared indeed to be taken for, especially among the fair sex, who thronged to his doors, crowd after crowd, to consult with him about their future occurrences in life. these curious tribes of people were as various in their persons, sex, age, quality, profession, art, trade, as they were in the curiosity of their minds, and the questions they had intended to propound to this dumb predictor of strange events, that lay yet as embryos in the womb of time, and were not to come, some of them, to a maturity for birth, for very many years after; just as porcelain clay is stored up in the earth by good artificers, which their heirs make china of, half a century, and sometimes more than an age, afterwards. these shoals of customers, who were to fee him well for his advice, as we may suppose, now he stood in need of raising a fresh stock, were unquestionably as welcome and acceptable to him as they appeared too troublesome to him before, when he was in a state of more wealth and plenty. fortune, that does nothing moderately, seemed now resolved, as she had been extremely cruel before, to be extremely kind to him. he had nothing to do from early in the morning till late at night, but to read questions, and resolve them as fast as much-frequented doctors write their prescriptions and recipes, and like them also to receive fees as fast. fortune was indeed mightily indulgent to the wants she had so suddenly reduced him to, and relieved him as suddenly by these knots of curiosos, who brought him a glut of money. but one single fair lady, that was one of his very first consulters after his return, and who had received satisfactory answers from him in other points, before he went abroad, proved, so good fortune would have it, worth all the rest of his customers together, as numerous as they were, and as i have accordingly represented them. this lady was the relict or widow of a gentleman of a good estate, and of a very good family, whose name was digby, and a handsome jointure she had out of the estate. this lady, it seems, having been with him in former days, and seen him in a more shining way of life, (for he had taken a humour to appear before all his company in that coarse odd dress made out of the friar's habit, and would not be persuaded by the people of the house to put on a nightgown till he could provide himself with a new suit,) was so curious, among other questions, as to ask him whether he had met with any misfortunes, and how he came to be in so slovenly and wretched a habit? here mr. campbell related the whole story of his travels to her, and the crosses and disappointments he had met with abroad. the tears, he observed, would start every now and then into her eyes when she came to any doleful passage, and she appeared to have a mighty compassionate kind of feeling, when she read of any hardship more than ordinarily melancholy that had befallen him. mr. campbell, it is certain, had then a very good presence, and was a handsome and portly young man; and as a great many young gentlemen derive the seeming agreeableness of their persons from the tailor and peruke-maker, the shoemaker and hosier, so mr. campbell's person, on the other hand, gave a good air and a good look to the awkward garb he had on; and i believe it was from seeing him in this odd trim, as they called it, the ladies first took up the humour of calling him 'the handsome sloven:' add to this that he looked his misfortune in the face with a jolly countenance, and smiled even while he was penning the relation of his calamities; all which are certainly circumstances that first sooth a generous mind into a state of compassion, and afterwards heighten it in the breast wherein it is conceived. hence it came that this pretty and good natured widow, mrs. digby, when she had expressed her commiseration of him by her looks, began to take the pen and express it in very tender terms. neither did she think that expression in words a sufficient testimony of the compassion she bore to him; the generosity of her mind did lead her to express it in a more substantial manner still, and that was to show it plainly by a very benevolous action. she laid a purse of twenty guineas before the table, and at the same time smiling, pointed to the table, as signifying her desire that he would accept it, and running to the door, dropped a curtsy, and skuttled away; and by the same civil act as she obliged him, she put it out of his power to refuse being so obliged; so that, though the present was very handsome, the manner of giving it was still handsomer. if being a handsome young man of merit in distress, and bearing his misfortunes with an equal mind, are powerful motives to excite compassion in the mind of a generous lady, so the generosity of a young agreeable widow, expressed in so kind and so benevolous a way, to a young gentleman, when he had been tasting nothing but the bitter draughts of fortune before, must stir up an affection in a mind that had any sense of gratitude; and truly just such was the effect that this lady's civility had upon mr. duncan campbell. he conceived from that moment a very great affection for her; and resolved to try whether he could gain her, which he had no small grounds to hope, from the esteem which she appeared to bear towards him already. i remember mr. dryden makes a very beautiful observation of the near alliance there is between the two passions of pity and love in a woman's breast, in one of his plays. his words are these; for pity still foreruns approaching love, as lightning does the thunder. mr. bruyere, a most ingenious member of the french academy, has made another remark, which comes home to our present purpose. he says, that many women love their money better than their friends; but yet value their lovers more than their money. according to the two reflections of these fine writers upon the tempers of the fair, mr. campbell had hopes enough to ground his courtship upon; and it appeared so in the end, by his proving successful; she from being a very liberal and friendly client, became at last a most affectionate wife. he then began to be a housekeeper, and accordingly took a little neat one, and very commodious for his profession, in monmouth-court. here i must take leave to make this observation; that if mr. campbell inherited the talents of his second-sighted mother, he seemed likewise to be an heir to his father, mr. archibald campbell, both in his strange and accidental sufferings by sea, and likewise in his being relieved from them after as accidental and strange a manner, by an unexpected marriage, just like his father's. and here we return again to take a new survey of him in the course of his public practice as a predictor. the accounts i shall give of his actions here, will be very various in their nature from any i have yet presented to the reader; they are more mysterious in themselves, and yet i shall endeavour to make the manner of his operating in this kind as plain as i think i have the foregoing ones, and then i flatter myself they must afford a fresh entertainment for every reader that has any curiosity and a good taste for things of so extraordinary a kind. for what i have all along propounded to myself from the beginning and in the progress to the end of this history, is to interweave entertaining and surprising narratives of what mr. campbell has done, with curious and instructive inquiries into the nature of those actions, for which he has rendered himself so singularly famous. it was not, therefore, suitable to my purpose, to clog the reader with numerous adventures, almost all of the same kind, but out of a vast number of them to single some few of those that were most remarkable, and that were mysteries, but mysteries of very different sorts. i leave that method of swelling distorted and commented trifles into volumes, to the writers of fable and romance; if i was to tell his adventures, with regard, for example, to women, that came to consult him, i might perhaps have not only written the stories of eleven thousand virgins that died maids, but have had relations to give of as many married women and widows, and the work would have been endless. all that i shall do therefore is to pick out one particular, each of a different kind, that there may be variety in the entertainment. upon application to this dumb man, one is told in the middle of her health, that she shall die at such a time; another, that she shall sicken, and upon the moment of her recovery, have a suitor and a husband; a third, who is a celebrated beauty with a multitude of admirers round about her, that she shall never become a wife; a fourth, that is married, when she shall get rid of an uneasy husband; a fifth, that hath lost her goods, who stole them, where and when they shall be restored; a sixth, that is a merchant, when he shall be undone, and how and when he shall recover his losses, and be as great on the exchange as ever; a seventh, that is a gamester, which will be his winning, and which his losing hour; an eighth, how he shall be involved in a law-suit, and whether the suit will have an adverse or a prosperous issue; a ninth, that is a woman, with choice of lovers, which she shall be most happy with for life; and so on to many others, where every prediction is perfectly new and surprising, and differs from the other in almost every circumstance. when a man has so extensive a genius as this at foretelling the future occurrences of life, one narrative of a sort is enough in conscience to present the reader with, and several of each kind would not methinks be entertaining, but tiresome; for he that can do one thing in these kinds by the power of prediction, can do ten thousand; and those who are obstinate in extenuating his talents, and calling his capacity in question, and that will not be convinced by one instance of his judgment, would not own the conviction if ten thousand instances were given them. the best passages i can recommend to their perusal are those where persons who came purposely to banter him under the colour of consulting him, and covered over their sly intentions with borrowed disguises, and came in masquerades, found all the jest turned upon themselves in the end, which they meant to our famous predictor, and had the discouragement of seeing their most concealed and deepest laid plots discovered, and all their most witty fetches and wily contrivances defeated, till they were compelled universally to acknowledge, that endeavouring to impose upon the judgment of our seer by any hidden artifice and cunning whatsoever, was effectually imposing upon their own. his unusual talent in this kind was so openly known, and so generally confessed, that his knowledge was celebrated in some of the most witty weekly papers that ever appeared in public. isaac bickerstaff, who diverted all the _beau monde_, for a long space of time with his lucubrations, takes occasion in several of his papers to applaud the speculations of this dumb gentleman in an admirable vein of pleasantry and humour, peculiar to the writer, and to the subject he writ upon. and when that bright author, who joined the uttermost facetiousness with the most solid improvements of morality and learning in his works, laid aside the title of a tatler, and assumed the name of a spectator and censor of men's actions, he still, every now and then, thought our duncan campbell a subject worthy enough to employ his farther considerations upon. i must take notice of one letter sent concerning him to the spectator, in the year , which was at a time when a lady wanted him, after he had removed from monmouth-street to drury-lane. mr. spectator,-- about two years ago i was called upon by the younger part of a country family, by my mother's side related to me, to visit mr. campbell, the dumb man; for they told me that was chiefly what brought them to town, having heard wonders of him in essex. i, who always wanted faith in such matters, was not easily prevailed on to go; but lest they should take it ill, i went with them, when, to my own surprise, mr. campbell related all their past life; in short, had he not been prevented, such a discovery would have come out, as would have ruined their next design of coming to town, viz., buying wedding clothes. our names, though he had never heard of us before, and we endeavoured to conceal, were as familiar to him as to ourselves. to be sure, mr. spectator, he is a very learned and wise man. being impatient to know my fortune, having paid my respects in a family jacobus, he told me, after his manner, among several other things, that in a year and nine months i should fall ill of a new fever, be given over by my physicians, but should with much difficulty recover; that the first time i took the air afterwards, i should be addressed to by a young gentleman of a plentiful fortune, good sense, and a generous spirit. mr. spectator, he is the purest man in the world, for all he said is come to pass, and i am the happiest she in kent. i have been in quest of mr. campbell these three months, and cannot find him out; now hearing you are a dumb man too, i thought you might correspond and be able to tell me something; for i think myself highly obliged to make his fortune, as he has mine. it is very possible your worship, who has spies all over this town, can inform me how to send to him; if you can, i beseech you be as speedy as possible, and you will highly oblige your constant reader and admirer, dulcibella thankley. the spectator's answer. ordered, that the inspector i employ about wonders, inquire at the golden-lion opposite to the half-moon tavern, in drury-lane, into the merit of this silent sage, and report accordingly. vide the th volume of spectators, no. , being on wednesday, september the rd, . but now let us come to those passages of his life the most surprising of all, during the time that he enjoyed this reputation, and when he proved that he deserved the fame he enjoyed. let us take a survey of him while he is wonderfully curing persons labouring under the misfortune of witchcraft, of which the following story will be an eminent instance, and likewise clear up how he came by his reputation in essex, as mentioned in the above-mentioned letter to the spectator. in the year , susanna johnson, daughter to one captain johnson, who lived at a place adjacent to rumford, in essex, going one morning to that town to buy butter at the market, was met there by an old miserable looking woman, just as she had taken some of her change of the marketwoman, in copper, and this old woman rather demanded than begged the gentlewoman to give her a penny. miss johnson reputing her to be one of those hateful people that are called sturdy beggars, refused it her, as thinking it to be no act of charity, and that it would be rather gratifying and indulging her impudence, than supplying or satisfying her indigence. upon the refusal, the old hag, with a face more wrinkled still, if possible, by anger, than it was by age, took upon her to storm at young miss johnson very loudly, and to threaten and menace her; but when she found her common threats and menaces were of no avail, she swore she would be revenged of the young creature in so signal a manner, that she should repent the denial of that penny from her heart before she got home, and that it should cost her many pounds to get rid of the consequences of that denial and her anger. the poor innocent girl despised these last words likewise, and, getting up on horseback, returned homewards; but just as she got about half way, her horse stopped, and no means that she could use would make him advance one single step; but she stayed awhile, to see if that would humour him to go on. at last the beast began to grow unruly, and snorted and trembled as if he had seen or smelt something that frightened him, and so fell a kicking desperately, till he threw the girl from the saddle, not being able to cling to it any longer, though a pretty good horsewoman of her years; so much were the horse's motions and plungings more than ordinarily violent. as providence would have it, she got not much harm by the fall, receiving only a little bruise in the right shoulder; but she was dreadfully frightened. this fear added wings to her feet, and brought her home as speedily of herself as she usually came on horseback. she immediately, without any other sign of illness than the palid colour with which fear had disordered the complexion of her face, alarmed all the family at home with the story, took her bed upon it, complained of inward rackings of the belly, and was never at ease unless she lay doubled up together, her head to her knees, and her heels to her rump, just like a figure of . she could not be a single moment out of that posture without shrieking out with the violence of anxious torments and racking pains. in this condition of misery, amidst this agony of suffering, and in this double posture, was the poor wretched young gentlewoman brought to town; physicians were consulted about her, but in vain; she was carried to different hospitals for assistance, but their endeavours likewise proved ineffectual; at last she was conducted to the college of physicians; and even the collective wisdom of the greatest sages and adepts in the science of physic was posed to give her any prescription that would do her service, and relieve her from the inexplicable malady she laboured under. the poor incurable creature was one constant subject of her complaining mother's discourse in every company she came into. it happened at last, and very providentially truly, that the mother was thus condoling the misfortune of her child among five or six ladies, and telling them, among other things, that by the most skilful persons she was looked upon to be bewitched, and that it was not within the power of physic to compass her recovery. they all having been acquainted with our mr. duncan campbell, unanimously advised her to carry her daughter to his house, and consult with him about her. the mother was overjoyed at these tidings, and purposed to let no time slip where her child's health was so deeply concerned. she got the ladies to go with her and her child, to be eye-witnesses of so extraordinary a piece of practice, and so eminent a trial of skill. as soon as this dismal object was brought into his room, mr. duncan campbell lifted up her head and looked earnestly in her face, and in less than a minute's time signified to the company, that she was not only bewitched, but in as dreadful a condition almost as the man that had a legion of fiends within him. at the reading of these words the unhappy creature raised up her head, turned her eyes upwards, and a smile, a thing she had been a stranger to for many months, overspread her whole face, and such a kind of colour as is the flushing of joy and gladness, and with an innocent tone of voice she said, she now had a firm belief she should shortly be delivered. the mother and the rest of the company were all in tears, but mr. campbell wrote to them that they should be of good heart, be easy and quiet for a few moments, and they should be convinced that it was witchcraft, but happily convinced by seeing her so suddenly well again. this brought the company into pretty good temper; and a little after, mr. campbell desired she might be led up stairs into his chamber and left there alone with him for a little while; this occasioned some small female speculation, and as much mirth as their late sorrow, alleviated with the hopes of her cure, would permit. this you may be sure was but a snatch of mirth, just as the nature of the thing would allow of; and all sorts of waggery being laid instantly aside, and removed almost as soon as conceived, the poor young thing was carried in that double posture up stairs. she had not been much above half an hour there, when by the help only of mr. campbell's arm she was led down stairs, and descended into that roomful of company as a miracle appearing in a machine from above; she was led backward and forward in the room, while all gazed at her for awhile with joyful astonishment, for no arrow was ever more straight than she. mr. campbell then prevailed with her to drink a glass of wine, and immediately after she evacuated wind, which she had not done for some months before, and found herself still more amended and easy; and then the mother making mr. campbell some small acknowledgment at that time, with the promise of more, and her daughter giving thanks, and all the company commending his skill, took their leaves and departed, with great demonstrations of joy. i shall here, to cut the story short, signify, that she came frequently afterwards to make her testimonials of gratitude to him, and continues to enjoy her health to this very day, at greenwich, where she now lives, and will at any time, if called upon, make oath of the truth of this little history, as she told me herself with her own mouth. the next thing, therefore, it behoves me to do in this chapter, is, to give some satisfactory account of magic, by which such seeming mysterious cures and operations are brought about. this task i would perform in the most perspicuous and most convincing manner i can; for magic, i know, is held to be a very hard and difficult study by those learned, and universally unlawful and diabolical by those unlearned, who believe there is such a science attainable by human genius. on the other hand, by some learned men, who believe there is no such science, it is represented as an inconsistent system of superstitions and chimeras; and again laughed at as such by the unlearned, who are of an incredulous temper; what i would therefore undertake to do in this place is to show the learned men, who believe there is such an art, that the attainment to a tolerable knowledge of the manner how magical practices may be brought about, is no such difficult matter as they have represented it to themselves; and by doing this i shall make the system of it so plain, that while the learned approve of it, the unlearned too, who are not of an unbelieving kind, may understand clearly what i say; and the learned men who have rejected this science as chimerical, may be clearly convinced it is real; and then there is nothing left but obstinate unbelieving ignorance, which i shall not here pretend by arguments to lead into sense, but leave it to the work of time. in fine, i will endeavour to induce men of sense to say, that what has been accounted mysterious, is delivered in a plain, easy, and convincing manner, and to own that they approve, while men of the lower class of understanding shall confess and acknowledge that they themselves understand it; and that what has hitherto been represented as arduous and difficult to a great genius, is adapted and rendered not only clear, but familiar to persons of middling talents. in this work, therefore, i shall follow the strictest order i can, which of all things render a discourse upon any subject the most clear; and that it may be plain to the commonest capacity, i will first set down what order i intend to follow. first, i will speak of magic in general. secondly, of magic under its several divisions and subdivisions. thirdly, concerning the object of art, as it is good or bad. fourthly, of the persons exercising that art in either capacity, of good or bad, and by what means they become capacitated to exercise it. in the fifth place, i shall come to the several objections against the art of magic, and the refutation of those objections. the first objection shall be against the existence of good and bad spirits; the refutation of which will consist in my proving the existence of spirits, both good and bad, by reason and by experience. the second objection that will be brought, is to contain an allegation that there are no such persons as witches now, and an argument to support that allegation, drawn from the incapacity and impossibility of any thing's making, while itself is incarnate, a contract with a spirit. this objection will be answered by proving the reality of witches from almost universal experience, and by explaining rationally the manner how the devils hold commerce with witches; which explanation is backed and authorised by the opinion of the most eminent divines, and the most learned physicians. from hence, sixthly and lastly, we shall conclude on the side of the good magic, that as there are witches on the one hand that may afflict and torment persons with demons, so on the other hand there are lawful and good magicians that may cast out demons from people that are possessed with them. and first as to magic in general. magic consists in the spirit by faith, for faith is that magnet of the magicians by which they draw spirits to them, and by which spirits they do great things, that appear like miracles. secondly, magic is divided into three sorts, viz., divine, natural, and diabolical. and natural magic is again subdivided into two kinds, simple and compound; and natural compound magic is again likewise divided into two kinds, viz., natural-divine magic, and natural-diabolical magic. now, to give the reader a clear and a distinct notion of each several species of magic here mentioned, i set down the following definitions: divine magic is a celestial science, in which all operations that are wonderfully brought about, are performed by the spirit of god. natural magic is a science in which all the mysterious acts that are wrought, are compassed by natural spirits. but as this natural magic may be exercised about things either in a manner indifferent in themselves, or mere morally good, and then it is mere natural magic; or else about things theologically good, and transcendently bad; and then it is not merely and natural magic, but mixed and compound. if natural magic be exercised about the most holy operations, it is then mixed with the divine, and may then be called, not improperly, natural-divine magic. but if natural magic troubles itself about compassing the wickedest practices, then is it promiscuous with the demoniacal, and may not improperly be called natural-diabolical magic. thirdly, the object of this art is doing wonders out of the ordinary appearing course of nature, which tend either to great good or bad, by the help and mediation of spirits good and bad. fourthly, as to the persons exercising that art in either way, whether good or bad, and by what means they become capacitated to act it, the notion of this may be easily deduced from the notions of the art itself, as considered above in its each different species; for as all magic consists in a spirit, every magician acts by a spirit. divine magicians, that are of god, are spoke of in the sacred book, and therefore i shall not mention the passages here, but pass them over, as i ought in a book like this, with a profound and reverential silence, as well as the other passages which speak of natural and demoniacal magicians; and in all i shall speak of them in this place, i shall only speak of them with regard to human reason and experience, and conclude this head with saying, that natural magicians work all things by the natural spirits of the elements; but that witches and demoniacal magicians, as jannes and jambres in egypt were, work their magical performances by the spirit of demons, and it is by the means of these different spirits that these different magicians perform their different operations. these things thus distinctly settled and explained, it is now we must come and ground the dispute between those who believe there are no such things as magicians of any kind, and those who assert there are of all the kinds above specified. those who contend there are, have recourse to experience, and relate many well-witnessed narratives, to prove that there have been in all times, and that there are still, magicians of all these kinds. but those who contend that there are no such persons, will give no ear to what the others call plain experience; they call the stories, let whatever witnesses appear to justify them, either fabulous legends invented by the authors, or else tricks of intellectual legerdemain imposed by the actors, upon the relators of those actions. since, therefore, they say, though the believers in magic brag of experience never so much, it may be but a fallible experience; they reasonably desire to know whether these gentlemen that stand for magic can answer the objections which they propose, to prove that the practice of magic, according to the system laid down, is inconsistent with reason, before they will yield their assent. let the stories be never so numerous, appear never so credible, these unbelieving gentlemen desire to be tried by reason, and aver till that reason is given they will not be convinced by the number of stories, because, though numerous, they are stories still; neither will they believe them because they appear credible, because seeming so is not being so, and appearances, though never so fair, when they contradict reason, are not to be swallowed down with an implicit faith as so many realities. and thus far, no doubt, the gentlemen who are on the unbelieving side are very much in the right of it. the learned gentlemen, on the other hand, who are persuaded of this mighty mysterious power being lodged in the hands of magicians, answer, that they will take upon them to refute the most subtle objections brought by the learned unbelievers, and to reconcile the practicability of magical mysteries by the capacity of men who study that art, to right rules and laws of reasoning, and to show that some stories, though never so prodigious, which are told of magicians, demand the belief of wise men on two accounts; because as experience backs reason on the one hand, reason backs experience on the other, and so the issue of the whole argument, whether there are magicians or not, is thrown upon both experience and reason. these arguments on each side, i shall draw up fairly _pro_ and _con_; for i do not pretend to be the inventor of them myself, they belong to other authors many years ago; be it enough for me to boast of, if i can draw them up in a better and closer form together than they have yet appeared in. in that i take upon myself a very great task; i erect myself as it were into a kind of a judge; i will sum up the evidences on both sides, and i shall, wherever i see occasion, intimate which side of the argument bears the most weight with me; but when i have enforced my opinion as far as i think needful, my readers, like a jury, are still at liberty to bring in their verdict just as they themselves shall see fit; and this naturally leads me where i promised to come to in the fifth part of this discourse, to the several objections against the power of art magic, and the refutation of those objections. _the first objections being against the existence of spirits, and the refutations thereof._ the first objection which they who reject magic make use of, is, denying that there are any such things as spirits, about which, since those who defend the art say it entirely exerciseth itself, the objectors contend, that if they can make out that there are no such beings as spirits, all pretensions to the art must be entirely groundless, and for the future exploded. to make this part out, that there are no spirits, the first man they produce on their side is undoubtedly one of very great credit and authority, inasmuch as he has justly borne for many centuries the title of a prince of philosophers. they say that aristotle in his book _de mundo_, reasons thus against the existence of spirits, viz., that since god can do all things of himself, he doth not stand in need of ministering angels and demons. a multitude of servants showing the weakness of a prince. the gentlemen who defend the science make this reply, they allow the credit and authority of aristotle as much as the objectors; but as the objectors themselves deny all the authorities for the spirits, and desire that reason may be the only ground they go upon, so the refuters, on their parts desire, that aristotle's _ipse dixit_ may not be absolutely passed upon them for argument; but that his words may be brought to the same touchstone of reason, and proved if they are standard. if this argument, say they, will hold good, aristotle should not suppose intelligences moving the celestial spheres; for god sufficeth to move all without ministering spirits; nor would there be need of a sun in the world, for god can enlighten all things by himself, and so all second causes were to be taken away; therefore, there are angels and ministering spirits in the world, for the majesty of god, not for his want of them, and for order, not for his omnipotency. and here if the objectors return and say, who told you that there are spirits; is not yours a precarious hypothesis? may not we have leave to recriminate in this place? pray, who told aristotle that there were intelligences that moved the celestial spheres? is not this hypothesis as precarious as any man may pretend that of spirits to be? and we believe there are few philosophers at present who agree with aristotle in that opinion; and we dare pronounce this to be ours, that aristotle took his intelligences from the hebrews, who went according to the same whimsical, though pretty notion, which first gave rise to the fiction of the nine muses. but more than all this, it is a very great doubt among learned men, whether this book _de mundo_ be aristotle's or no. the next thing the objectors bring against the existence of spirits, is, that it is nonsense for men to say that there are such beings of which it is impossible for a man to have any notion, and they insist upon it that it is impossible for any man to form an idea of a spiritual substance. as to this part, the defendants rejoin, that they think our late most judicious mr. locke, in his elaborate and finished essay on the human understanding, has fairly made out, that men have as clear a notion of a spiritual substance as they have of any corporeal substance, matter, or body; and that there is as much reason for admitting the existence of the one, as of the other; for that if they admit the latter, it is but humour in them to deny the former. it is in book the nd, chap. , where he reasons thus: "if a man will examine himself concerning his notion of pure substance in general he will find he has no other idea of it, but only a supposition of he knows not what support of such quality which are capable of producing simple ideas in us, which qualities are commonly called accidents. thus, if we talk or think of any particular sort of corporeal substance, as horse, stone, &c., though the idea we have of either of them be but the complication or collection of those several simple ideas, or sensible qualities which we use to find united in the thing called horse, or stone; yet because we cannot conceive how they should subsist alone, not one in another, we suppose them to exist in, and be supported by some common subject; which support we denote by the name of substance, though it be certain we have no clear or distinct idea of that thing we suppose a support. the same happens concerning the operations of our mind, viz., thinking, reasoning, and fearing, &c., which we concluding not to subsist of themselves, and not apprehending how they can belong to body, we are apt to think these the actions of some substance which we call spirit; whereby it is evident, that having no other notion of matter, but something wherein those many sensible qualities which affect our senses do subsist, by supposing a substance wherein thinking, knowing, doubting, and a power of moving, &c., do subsist, we have as clear a notion of the nature or substance of spirit, as we have of body: the one being supposed to be, without knowing what is, the substratum to those simple ideas which we have from without; and the other supposed, with a like ignorance of what it is, to be the substratum of these operations which we experiment in ourselves within. it is plain, then, that the idea of corporeal substance in matter, is as remote from our conceptions and apprehensions as that of spiritual substance, and therefore from our not having any notion of the substance of spirit, we can no more conclude its not existence, than we can for the same reason deny the existence of body; it being as rational to affirm there is no body, because we cannot know its essence, as it is called, or have the idea of the substance of matter, as to say, there is no spirit, because we know not its essence, or have no idea of a spiritual substance." mr. locke also, comparing our idea of spirit with our idea of body, thinks there may seem rather less obscurity in the former than the latter. our idea of body he takes to be an extended solid substance, capable of communicating motion by impulse; and our idea of soul is a substance that thinks, and has a power of exciting motion in body by will or thought. now, some perhaps will say they comprehend a thinking thing, which perhaps is true; but, he says, if they consider it well, they can no more comprehend an extended thing; and if they say, they know not what it is thinks in them, they mean they know not what the substance is of that thinking thing; no more, says he, do they know what the substance is of that solid thing; and if they say they know how not how they think, he says, neither do they know how they are extended, how the solid parts are united, or where to make extension, &c. the learned monsieur le clerc, who generally knows how far human reason can bear, argues consonantly to what is before delivered by mr. locke, in his _coronis_, added to the end of the fourth volume of his philosophical works, in the third edition of them, where he writes as followeth:-- "when we contemplate the corporeal nature, we can see nothing in it but extension, divisibility, solidity, mobility, and various determinations of quantity, or figures; which being so, it were a rash thing, and contrary to the laws of right reasoning, to affirm other things of bodies; and consequently from mere body nothing can be deduced by us, which is not joined in a necessary connection with the said properties; therefore those who have thought the properties of perceiving by sense, of understanding, willing, imagining, remembering, and others the like, which have no affinity with corporeal things, to have risen from the body, have greatly transgressed in the method of right reasoning and philosophising, which hath been done by epicurus, and those who have thought as he did, having affirmed our minds to be composed of corporeal atoms: but whence shall we say they have had their rise? truly, they do not owe their rise to matter, which is wholly destitute of sense and thought, nor are they spontaneously sprung up from nothing, it being an ontological maxim of most evident truth, that nothing springs from nothing." having thus given the reader the first objections made against the existence of spirits, and the refutations thereof, i must now frankly own on which side my opinion leans; and for my part, it seems manifest to me that there are two beings; we conceive very plainly and distinctly, viz., body and spirit, and that it would be as absurd and ridiculous to deny the existence of the one as of the other; and really, if the refuters have got the better in their way of reasoning, they have still a much greater advantage over the objectors, when they come to back these reasons with fresh arguments drawn from experience. of this, there having been many undoubted narratives given in the foregoing pages, concerning the apparitions of spirits, i shall refer the reader back again to them, and only subjoin here one or two instances, which may, if required, be proved upon oath, of spirits seen by two persons of our duncan campbell's own acquaintance. in the year , one mrs. stephens and her daughter were together with mr. campbell, at the house of mr ramell, a very great and noted weaver at haggerstone, where the rainy weather detained them till late at night. just after the clock struck twelve, they all of them went to the door to see if the rain had ceased, being extremely desirous to get home. as soon as ever they had opened the door and where all got together, there appeared before them a thing all in white, the face seemed of a dismal palid hue, but the eyes thereof fiery and flaming, like beacons, and of a saucer size. it made its approaches to them till it came up within the space of about three yards of them, there it fixed and stood like a figure agaze, for some minutes; and they all stood likewise stiff, like the figure, frozen with fear, motionless, and speechless; when all of a sudden it vanished from their eyes, and that apparition to the sight was succeeded by a noise, or the appearance of a noise, like that which is occasioned by the fighting of twenty mastiff dogs. not long after, mrs. anne stephens, who lived in spitalfields, a woman well known by her great dealings with mercers upon ludgate-hill, sitting in her house alone, and musing upon business, happened by accident to look behind her, and saw a dead corpse, to her thinking, lie extended upon the floor, just as a dead corpse should be, excepting that the foot of one leg was fixed on the ground, as it is in a bed when one lies with one knee up; she looked at it a long while, and by degrees at last stole her eyes from so unpleasing and unexpected an object. however, a strange kind of a curiosity overcame her fears, and she ventured a second time to turn her head that way, and saw it, as before, fixed for a considerable time longer, but durst not stir from her seat; she again withdrew her eyes from the horrible and melancholy spectacle, and resumed the courage, after a little reflection, of viewing it again, and resolved to ascertain herself if the vision was real, by getting up from her seat and going to it, but upon this third retrospection she found it vanished. this relation she writ down to mr. duncan campbell, and has told before mrs. ramell, her own sister, and many other very creditable persons. now as to these arguments from experience, i shall also deliver my opinion; i dispute not but that learned men, who have obstinate prepossessions, may produce plausible arguments why all things should be thought to be done by imposture which seem strange to them, and interfere with their belief; and truly thus far their humour may be indulged, that if only one person relates a very strange and surprising story, a man may be more apt to think it is possible for that person to lie, than that so strange a relation should be true; but if a considerable number of persons, of several countries, several religious, several professions, several ages, and those persons looked upon to be of as great sagacity as any the country afford, agree in relations of the same kind, thought very strange and are ready to vouch the truth of them upon oath, after having well considered circumstances, i think it a violation of the law of nature to reject all these relations as fabulous, merely upon a self-presuming conceit, unless a man can fairly show the things to be impossible, or can demonstrate wherein those persons were imposed on; for from hence i form the following conclusive argument. what is possible according to reason, grows probable according to belief; where the possibility is attested to have reduced itself into action by persons of known credit and integrity. now, not only the possibility of the existence of spirits, but the actual existence thereof is proved above by logical demonstration; therefore are we to believe both by the course of logical reason and moral faith, that those existences have appeared to men of credit, who have attested the reality thereof upon oath. _second objection against the existence of witches._ these objectors go on to say, that provided they should allow there is an existence of spirits, yet that would be still no argument how magic should subsist, because they deny that it is impossible for a man in his body to have a commerce, much less make a contract, with spirits; but here again the refuters allege they have both experience and reason on their sides. as a joint argument of reason and experience, they tell you, that the numerous witches which have in all countries been arraigned and condemned upon this occasion, are evident testimonies of this commerce and contract being held and made with spirits. they pretend to say, that these objectors call not their, the refuters, judgment so much in question, who contend that there is a magic art, as they call in question the judgment of all the wisest legislative powers in christendom, who have universally agreed in enacting penal laws against such capital offenders. but here the objectors return and say, that it being impossible for us to show the manner how such a contract should be made, we can never, but without reason, believe a thing to be, of which we can form no perfect idea. the refuters, on the other hand, reply with the learned father le brune, it is manifest that we can see but two sorts of beings, spirits and bodies; and that since we can reason but according to our ideas, we ought to ascribe to spirits what cannot be produced by bodies. indeed the author of the republic of learning, in the month of august, anno , has given us a rough draught for writing a good tract of witchcraft, which he looks upon as a desideratum; where among other things, he writes thus: since this age is the true time of systems, one should be contrived concerning the commerce that may be betwixt demons and men. on this passage father le brune writes thus: "doubtless here the author complies with the language of a great many persons, who, for want of attention and light, would have us put all religion in systems. whatever regard i ought to have for many of those persons, i must not be afraid to say, that there is no system to be made of those truths, which we ought to learn distinctly by faith, because we must advance nothing here, but what we receive from the oracle. we must make a system to explain the effects of the loadstone, the ebbing and flowing of the sea, the motion of the planets; for that the cause of these effects is not evidently signified to us, and many may be conceived by us; and to determine us, we have need of a great number of observations, which by an exact induction may lead us to a cause that may satisfy all the phenomena. it is not the same in the truths of religion, we come not at them by groping, it were to be wished men spoke not of them, but after a decisive and infallible authority. it is thus we should speak of the power of demons, and of the commerce they have with men; it is of faith, that they have power, and that they attack men, and try to seduce them divers ways. it is true, indeed, they are sometimes permitted to have it over the just, though they have it not ordinarily, but over those that want faith, or fear not to partake of their works; and that to the last particularly, the disordered intelligences try to make exactly succeed what they wish; inspiring them to have recourse to certain practices by which those seducing spirits enter into commerce with men." thus far father le brune. but still these objectors demand to know by what means this commerce may be held between demons and men, and urge us to describe the manner; or pretend that they have still reason to refuse coming into the belief of a thing which we would impose upon them, though wholly ignorant of it ourselves; to that the refuters answer thus; that both christian divines and physicians agree as to the manner how, which they are so curious in inquiring after, that demons stir up raptures and ecstacies in men, binding or loosing the exterior senses, and that either by stopping the pores of the brain, so that the spirits cannot pass forth, as it is done naturally by sleep, or by recalling the sensitive spirits from the outward senses to the inward organs, which he there retains; so the devil renders women witches ecstatical and magicians, who while they lie fast asleep in one place, think they have been in divers places, and done many things. this the learned objectors say proceeds from no demon, but from the disease called an epilepsy; but, on the other hand, the more learned refuters insist upon it, that these ecstacies are not epileptic seizures; this, say they, appears from bodin, in his theatre of universal nature, where he says, that those who are wrapped by the devil, feel neither stripes nor cuttings, nor no wresting of their limbs, nor burning tortures, nor the application of a red hot iron; nay, nor is the beat of the pulse, nor the motion of the heart perceived in them; but afterwards, returning to themselves, they feel most bitter pains of the wounds received, and tell of things done at six hundred miles' distance, and affirm themselves to have seen them done. the ingenious dr. ader, makes an admirable physical distinction between this kind of ecstacy and a syncope, or stupor caused by narcotic medicines. sennertus, in his institutio medica, writes of the demoniacal sopor of witches, who think they are carried through the air, dance, feast, and have copulation with the devil, and do other things in their sleep, and afterwards believe the same things waking. now, he says, whether they are really so carried in the air, &c., or being in a profound sleep, or only dream they are so carried, and persist in that opinion after they are awake, these facts or dreams cannot be natural; for it cannot be that there should be so great an agreement in dreams, of persons differing in place, temperament, age, sex, and studies, that in one night, and at the same hour, they should, in concert, dream of one and the same such meeting, and should agree as to the place, number, and quality of the persons, and the like circumstances; but such dreams are suggested from a preternatural cause, viz., from the devil to his confederate, by the divine permission of an almighty power, where punishments are to be permitted to be inflicted upon reprobate sinners. whence also, to those witches, sincerely converted, and refusing to be any more present at those diabolical meetings, those dreams no longer happen, which is a proof that they proceeded not before from a natural cause. here begins the great point of the dispute as to that branch of magic which we call natural magic. the objectors may tell us, that they will freely own that there may be an existence of spirits, that there may be an existence of witches, that by a divine power men may be influenced so far as to have a communication with good spirits, and that from thence they may become spiritual-divine magicians, they will likewise, perhaps, as freely grant, that by the intervention of a demon, things preternatural may be brought about by persons who have studied the demoniacal magic; but then what they principally insist upon is, that it must be contradictory to all human reason to imagine that there can be such a thing as natural magicians; and thus far they may form their argument. they say, that the persons, who contend for the magic art, own, that all that is brought about by magic, is by the assistance and help of a spirit, and that consequently what is effected by it must be preternatural; now, they say, it is a thing inconsistent, by a natural power, to bring about a preternatural effect; therefore, there can be no such thing as natural magic, which has within itself the efficacy of destroying those acts done by magicians in the diabolical. to this the refuters take leave to reply, that the foundation upon which the argument is built is wrong grounded; they have admitted that, in diabolical art magic, there may be a commerce held between men and spirits, by which several preternatural effects may be brought about; and the reason they assign for it there is, because there is a preternatural agent concerned therein, the devil; but then, say they, in natural magic you can pretend to no such agent, and therefore to no such preternatural effect. this argument contains within it two fallacies; first, as to the commerce held between a man and a demon, there is nothing preternatural in getting the acquaintance; the will of the man is entirely natural, either naturally good, or naturally corrupted; the black spirit that converseth with him, it is acknowledged is not so, but it is from the will of the man, not from the power vested in the devil, that the acquaintance first grows, therefore the acquaintance itself is natural, though it arises from the last corruption and depravations of nature; but being made with a preternatural existence, though the cause of the acquaintance be corruptedly natural, yet the intermediate cause or means after that acquaintance is not so, and therefore the effect of that intermediate cause may be wonderful, and seem to be out of the ordinary course of nature. now, since it is generally allowed that there are natural spirits of the elements, as well as divine and infernal, what we have to prove is only this, that man by natural magic may have a commerce with natural spirits of their elements, as witches may have with the spirits or demons. now, as we said before, the commerce itself depends upon the will of the person, and is therefore natural, and consequently may as well subsist between the one as the other; for the devil cannot force a man to hold a commerce with him whether he will or no. the second fallacy is calling the effect preternatural, no otherwise than as it connotates the agent that brought it about, which is a spiritual agent; for the effect is, in itself considered, natural, and brought about by second causes that are natural, by the devil's penetration, who is subtle enough to make use of them for such and such ends. now men, by natural spirits, which are of a faculty thoroughly subtle, may as well with natural second causes compass the remedy of an evil spirit, as the devil is able to infect men with it. from these speculations a farther plain consequence may be deduced, how a man may, by the pure force of natural magic, cure a person that is infested with evils by a demon; for how is it that a demon infests anybody with his evil motions? it is true, he is a preternatural agent, but the evil effect he does is brought about by natural causes. for how does a demon stir up raptures or ecstacies in men? why he does it, as we are told above, by binding or loosing the exterior senses, by stopping the pores of the brain, so that the spirits cannot pass forth; and this the art of physic can compass by its drugs, and sleep causes the same thing very naturally of itself; therefore, as the evil itself is natural, the remedy, that is natural, will certainly overcome it. but then, say you, why cannot those persons be cured by physicians? i answer, not because their remedies are not in themselves sufficient to cure the evils themselves, but because generally physicians do not administer their drugs as christians, but as physicians; and when they prescribe them to the sick they generally prescribe to them only purely considered as patients, not as christians, and therein they come to fail; because the agent, the devil, is a subtle spirit, that brings the evil, and alters its situation before the remedy, which would master it otherwise, can take any effect; which agent, the devil, is employed by the horrible and impious faith of the antiphysician, viz., the black magician; but if the physician would act the christian at the same time, so far as to have a faith that things ordained in the course of nature for the good of man, would have its effects in spite of a devil, if taken with a good faith by the patient; that all good things ordained to be for the natural recovery of men, if they took it with thankfulness to the sender, would have due effect; why then the natural spirits of the elements would resist the farther agency of the demoniacal spirit, and then nothing but the natural evil, caused at first by the demon, remaining in the person, without the farther superintendency of the demon, might demonstratively be taken away by the mere natural remedy or medicine. and thus good and pious physicians, making use of such proper remedies as their skill teaches them, and having an honest faith, that the goods of nature intended for the use and benefit of man, if received by the patient with the same good faith, is above the power of the devil to frustrate, may not improperly be called natural magicians. these arguments of mine i shall now take leave to back by experience. besides, what we have urged from reason, concerning the power of natural magic, we shall only subjoin, that divines themselves hold that natural magic, and also natural divinations and prophecies, are proved by quotations from that venerable writ which is their guide; and bring proofs from the same also, that by natural magic demons are also cast forth, but not all kinds of demons, and so many works of efficacy are wrought by natural magic: they tell you, such was the pythonissa that raised the apparition to saul, which appeared in a body of wind and air. thus, if a person by natural magic should cast out demons, it does not follow that this was also from divine magic; and if demons are cast out by natural magic, by one that is in the fear of god, it does not follow that he is a true magician of god; but if it exorbitates to demoniacal, then it is condemned: and when natural magic keeps within its bounds, the divines tell us it is not condemned in the venerable book, which is the christian's sure guide. but, inasmuch as the lawfulness even of natural magic has been called in question by others, i shall, in an appendix joined to this treatise, examine that matter, both according to the reasons of our english laws, and according to the best stated rules of casuistry that i am a master of; still submitting my judgment to the superior judgment of those who are professed divines and lawyers; and if my opinions prove erroneous, i am willing to retract them; and therefore, in this place, there remains nothing farther for me to do, but only, as i have shown, on the one hand, how natural magic, and its powerful operations, are proved by reason, to show, on the other hand, how far reason in these cases is likewise backed and supported by well-evidenced practice, and notorious experience. and to do this, after having mentioned one memorable instance, which i refer the reader to in the body of the book, concerning the performances of mr. greatrix, to which a lord orrery was a witness, in ireland; i shall, to avoid prolixity, bring the other testimonials of practice, from the success which our duncan campbell himself has had in this way on other occasions. in the year , lived in fenchurch-street, one mr. coates, a tobacco-merchant, who had been for many years sorely tormented in his body, and had had recourse for a cure to all the most eminent physicians of the age, even up to the great dr. ratcliff himself; but all this mighty application for relief was still in vain; each doctor owned him a wonder and a mystery to physic, and left him as much a wonder as they found him. neither could the professors of surgery guess at his ailment, or resolve the riddle of his distemper; and after having spent, from first to last, above a thousand pounds in search of proper remedies, they found the search ineffectual; the learned all agreed that it could proceed from nothing else than witchcraft; they had now indeed guessed the source of his illness, but it was an illness of such a kind that, when they had found it out, they thought themselves not the proper persons to prescribe to him any remedies. that task was reserved, it seems, for our duncan campbell, who, upon somebody's information or other, was sent for to the bewitched patient mr. coates, who found him the wonder that the others had left him, but did wonders in undertaking and compassing his cure. i remember, one of the ingredients made use of was boiling his own water, but i cannot tell how it was used; and, upon turning over the books of some great physicians since, i have found, that they themselves have formerly delivered that as one part of the prescriptions for the cure of patients in like cases. but as there are other things which mr. campbell performs, that seem to require a mixture of the second-sight, and of this natural magic, before they can be brought about, i will entertain the reader with one or two passages of that sort likewise, and so conclude the history of this so singular a man's life and adventures. in the year , a gentlewoman lost about six pounds' worth of flanders lace, and inasmuch as it was a present made to her husband, she was concerned as much as if it had been of twenty times the value; and a lady of her acquaintance coming to visit her, to whom she unfolded, among other things in discourse, this little disaster, the lady, smiling, replied with this question, did you never hear, madam, of mr. duncan campbell? it is but making your application to him, things that are lost are immediately found; the power of his knowledge exceeds even the power of laws; they but restrain, and frighten, and punish robbers, but he makes thieves expiate their guilt by the more virtuous way of turning restorers of the goods they have stolen. madam, rejoined the losing gentlewoman, you smile when you tell me this; but really, as much a trifle as it is, since it was a present to my husband, i cannot help being sensibly concerned at it, a moment's disappointment to him in the least thing in nature, creates in me a greater uneasiness than the greatest disappointment to my single self could do in things of moment and importance. what makes me smile, said the lady, when i speak of it, or think of it, is the oddness and peculiarity of this man's talent in helping one to such things; but, without the least jest, i assure you, that i know, by experience, these things come within the compass of his knowledge; and i must seriously tell you, for your farther satisfaction, that he has helped me, and several of my friends, to the finding again things lost, which were of great value. and is this, without laughing, true? said the losing fair, very gravely and demurely, like a person half believing, and desirous to be fully confirmed in such a belief. the lady she advised with did then ascertain her of the truth of the matter, alleging that, for a single half-guinea, he would inform her of her things, and describe the person that conveyed them away. no sooner was this gentlewoman convinced, but she was eager for the trial; solicited her friend to conduct her to mr. campbell, and, upon the first word of consent, she was hooded and scarfed immediately, and they coached it away in a trice to mr. campbell's house, whom they luckily found within. the ladies had not been long seated before he wrote down the name of this new client of his, exactly as it was, viz., mrs. saxon. then she was in good hopes, and with much confidence propounded to him the question about the lace. he paused but a very little while upon the matter, before he described the person that took it, and satisfied her that in two or three days she would be mistress of her lace again, and find it in some book, or corner of her room. she presented him a half-guinea, and was very contentedly going away, but mr. campbell very kindly stopped her, and signified to her, that, if she had no more to offer to him, he had something of more importance to reveal to her. she sat full of expectation while he wrote this new matter; and the paper he delivered to her contained the following account: as for the loss of a little bit of lace, it is a mere trifle; you have lost a great many hundreds of pounds, which your aunt (naming her name) left you, but you are bubbled out of that large sum. for while you was artfully required down stairs about some pretended business or other, one mr. h--tt--n, conveyed your aunt's will out of the desk, and several other things of value; and writing down the names of all the persons concerned, which put mrs. saxon in a great consternation, he concluded this paper, with bidding her go home with a contented mind, she should find her lace in a few days; and as she found that prediction proved true, she should afterwards come and consult about the rest. when she came home, it seems, big at first with the thoughts of what she had been told, she rifled and ransacked every corner, but no lace was to be met with; all the next day she hunted in the like manner, but frightened the whole time as if she thought the devil was the only person could bring it, but all to no purpose; the third day her curiosity abated, she gave over the hopes of it, and took the prediction as a vain delusion, and that what she gave for it was only more money thrown away after what had been lost before. that very day, as it commonly happens in such cases, when she least dreamt of it, she lighted on it by accident and surprise. she ran with it in her hand immediately to her husband, and now she had recovered it again, told him of the loss of it, and the whole story of her having been at mr. campbell's about it; and then, amplifying the discourse about what he had told her besides, as to more considerable affairs, she said she resolved to go and consult him a little farther about them, and begged her husband to accompany her. he would fain have laughed her out of that opinion and intent, but the end was, she persuaded him into it, and prevailed upon him to seem at least very serious about the matter, and go with her to the oracle, assuring him there was no room for doubting the same success. well, to mr. campbell's they accordingly came; and after mr. saxon, in deference to his wife's desire, had paid our predictor a handsome complement of gold, mr. duncan campbell saluted him in as grateful a manner, with the assurance that there was in kent a little country house, with some lands appertaining to it, that was his in right of his wife; that he had the house, as it were, before his eyes, that though he had never substantially seen it, nor been near the place where it stood, he had seen it figuratively as if in exact painting and sculpture; that particularly it had four green trees before the door, from whence he was positive, that if mr. saxon went with him in quest of it, he should find it out, and know it as well the moment he come near it, as if he had been an inhabitant in it all his life. mr. saxon, though somewhat of an unbeliever, yet must naturally wish to find it true, you may be sure, and yet partly doubting the event, and partly pleased with the visionary promise of a fortune he never expected, laughed very heartily at the oddness of the adventure, and said he would consider whether it would not savour too much of quixotism, to be at the expense of a journey on such frolics, and on such a chimerical foundation of airy hopes, and that then he would call again and let mr. campbell know his mind upon that point. in every company he came into, it served for laughter and diversion; they all, however, agreed it was worth his while, since the journey would not be very expensive, to go it by way of frolic. his wife, one morning, saying that she did remember some talk of a house, and such things as mr. campbell had described, put him forward upon the adventure; and upon mr. saxon's proposing it to his brother barnard, mr. barnard favoured the proposal as a joke, and agreed upon the country ramble. they came on horseback to mr. campbell's with a third horse, on which the dumb predictor was mounted, and so on they jogged into kent, towards sevenoaks, being the place which he described. the first day they set out was on a saturday morning in june, and about five that afternoon they arrived at the black bull, at sevenoaks, in kent. it being a delicate evening, they took an agreeable walk up a fine hill, gracefully adorned with woods, to an old seat of the earl of dorset. meeting by the way with an old servant of the earl, one perkin, he offered mr. barnard, who it seems was his old acquaintance, to give them all a sight of the fine ancient seat. after they had pleased themselves with viewing the antique nobility of that stately structure, this perkin went back with them to their inn, the bull, at sevenoaks. they that could talk, were very merry in chat; and the dumb gentleman, who saw them laugh and wear all the signs of alacrity in their countenances, was resolved not to be behind with their tongues, and by dint of pen, ink, and paper, that he made signs should be brought in, was resolved, if one might be said to crack without noise, to crack his jest as well as the best of them; for it may be truly said of him, that he seldom comes into any, even diverting company, where he is not the most diverting man there, and the head, though we cannot call him the mouth, of the cheerful society. after having eyed this perkin a little, and being grown, by his art, as we may suppose, as familiar with the man's humour as if he had known him as many years as mr. barnard, pray, mr. barnard, quoth he, in writing, how comes it, you, that are so stanch and so stiff a whig, should be so acquainted and so particularly familiar with such an old papist, and so violent a jacobite, as i know that mr. perkin (whom i never saw nor had any notice of in my life) to be? and pray, replied mr. barnard, what reason have you beyond a pun to take him for a jacobite? must he be so because his name is perkin? i do assure you, in this you show yourself but little of a conjurer; if you can tell no more of houses than you do of men, we may give over the search after the house you spoke of. (here the reader must understand they discoursed on their fingers, and wrote by turns.) mr. campbell replied, seriously, laying a wager is no argument in other things, i own, but in this i know it is, because i am sure, after we have laid the wager, he will fairly confess it among friends, since it will go no farther; and i, said mr. campbell, will lay what wager you will apiece with you all round. hereupon, mr. barnard, who had known him a great many years, was the first that laid, and many more, to the number of five or six, followed his example; the decision of the matter was deferred till next day at the return of the old man to the inn, they being about to break up that night and go to bed. the next day being sunday, the landlord carried his guests to see the country, and after a handsome walk, they came through the churchyard. they were poring upon the tombs; no delight can be greater to mr. campbell than that; and really, by the frequent walks he usually takes in westminster abbey, and the churchyards adjacent to this metropolis, one would imagine he takes delight to stalk along by himself on that dumb silent ground, where the characters of the persons are only to be known, as his own meaning is, by writings and inscriptions on the marble. when they had sufficiently surveyed the churchyard, it grew near dinner-time, and they went homewards; but before they had got many yards out of the churchyard, mr. campbell makes a full stop, pointing up to a house, and stopping his friends a little, he pulls out of his pocket a pencil and paper, and notes down the following words: that, that is the house my vision presented to me; i could swear it to be the same, i know it to be the same, i am certain of it. the gentlemen with him remarked it, would not take any farther notice at that time intending to inquire into it with secrecy, and so went on to the inn to dinner. as merry as they had been the night before after supper, they were still more innocently cheerful this day after dinner, till the time of service begun. when the duty of the day was performed and over, they returned to divert and unbend their minds with pleasant but harmless conversation. i suppose nobody but a set of very great formalists will be offended with scandal or scruples, that to travellers just ready to depart the town, mr. perkin came on that good day and decided the wagers, by owning to all the company, secrecy being first enjoined, that he was a roman catholic, though nobody of the family knew it in so many years as he had lived there, which was before mr. campbell was born. this and other innocent speeches afforded as much cheerfulness as the lord's-day would allow of. on the next day, being monday, they sent for one mr. toland toler, an attorney of the place, to find out to whom that house belonged, but by all the inquiry that could possibly be made with convenient secrecy, nobody could find it out for a long time; but at last it came to light and appeared to be justly to a tittle as mr. campbell had predicted. being now satisfied, the next day our three travellers returned for london; and the two vocal men were very jocular upon their adventure, and by their outward gesticulations gave the prophetical mute his share of diversion. mr. barnard, as they passed into a farmhouse-yard, remarked that all the hogs fell a grunting and squeaking more and more as mr. campbell came nearer, (who, poor man! could know nothing of the jest, nor the cause of it, till they alighted and told it him by signs and writing,) said to mr. saxon, laughing, now we have found out our house, we shall have only mr. campbell home again by himself--we have no farther need of the devil that accompanied him to the country, up to town with us, there are other devils enow to be met with there he knows; and so this, according to the fashion of his predecessor devils, is entered into the herd of swine. however, the event of this journey, to cut the story short, procured mr. saxon a great insight, upon inquiry, into several affairs belonging to him, of which he would otherwise have had no knowledge; and he is now engaged in a chancery suit to do himself justice, and in a fair way of recovering great sums of money, which, without the consultation he had with this dumb gentleman, he had in all likelihood never dreamt of. in the year , a gentleman, whose name shall be, in this place, amandus, famed for his exquisite talents in all arts and sciences, but particularly for his gentlemanlike and entertaining manner of conversation, whose company was affected by all men of wit, who grew his friends, and courted by all ladies of an elegant taste, who grew his admirers; this accomplished gentleman, i say, came to mr. campbell, in order to propound a question to him, which was so very intricate, and so difficult to answer, that, if he did answer it, it might administer to himself and the ladies he brought with him, the pleasure of admiration in seeing a thing so wonderful in itself performed; or, on the other hand, if he did not make a satisfactory reply to it, then it might afford him and the ladies a very great delight, in being the first that puzzled a man who had had the reputation for so many years of being capable of baffling all the wittiest devices and shrewd stratagems that had been from time to time invented to baffle his skill and explode his penetration in the second-sight, and the arts which he pretended to. the persons whom amandus brought with him, were the illustrious lady delphina, distinguished for her great quality, but still more celebrated for her beauty, his own lady, the admired amabella, and a young blooming pretty virgin whom we will call by the name of adeodata, about which last lady, the question was to be put to mr. campbell. adeodata, it seems, was the natural daughter of this very fine gentleman, who had never let her into the knowledge of her own birth, but had bred her up from her infancy under a borrowed name, in the notion that she was a relation's daughter, and recommended to his care in her infancy. now the man that had the second-sight was to be tried; it was now to be put to the proof if he could tell names or no? amandus was so much an unbeliever as to be willing to hazard the discovery. amabella and delphina were strangers to her real name, and asked duncan campbell, not doubting but he would set down that which she ordinarily went by. amabella had indeed been told by amandus, that adeodata was the natural daughter of a near friend of his; but who this near friend was remained a secret: that was the point which lay upon our duncan campbell to discover. when the question was proposed to him, what her name was, he looked at her very steadfastly, and shook his head, and after some time he wrote down that it would be a very difficult name for him to fix upon. and truly so it proved; he toiled for every letter till he sweated; and the ladies laughed incontinently, imagining that he was in an agony of shame and confusion at finding himself posed. he desired amandus to withdraw a little, for that he could not so well take a full and proper survey of ladies' faces when a gentleman was by. this disturbance and perplexity of his afforded them still more subject of mirth; and that excuse was taken as a pretence, and a put-off to cover his shame the better, and hide from one at least, that he was but a downright bungler in what he pretended to be so wonderful an artist. however, after two hours hard sweat and labour, and viewing the face in different shades and lights, (for i must observe to the reader that there is a vast deal of difference, some he can tell in a minute or two with ease, some not in less than four or five hours, and that with great trouble) he undeceived them with regard to his capacity. he wrote down that adeodata's real name was amanda, as being the natural daughter of amandus. delphina and amabella were surprised at the discovery; and amandus, when he was called in, owning it a truth, his wife amabella applauded the curious way of her coming by such a discovery, when adeodata was just marriageable, took a liking to her as if her own daughter, and everything ended with profit, mirth, and cheerfulness. i could add a thousand more adventures of mr. campbell's life, but that would prove tedious; and as the town has made a great demand for the book, it was thought more proper to conclude it here. the most diverting of all, are to be found best to the life in original letters that passed between mr. campbell and his correspondents, some select ones of which will be shortly published in a little pocket volume, for the farther entertainment of such readers as shall relish this treatise; in which the author hopes he shall be esteemed to have endeavoured at the intermingling of some curious disquisitions of learning, with entertaining passages, and to have ended all the merriest passages with a sober, instructive, and edifying moral, which even to those who are not willing to believe the stories, is reckoned sufficient to recommend even fables themselves. appendix. it is not that mr. duncan campbell stands in need of my arguments, to prove that he is in no respect liable to the acts of parliament made against fortuntellers, &c., that i undertake the writing of this appendix, the true reason thereof being, the more completely to finish this undertaking; for having, in the body of the book itself, fully proved a second-sight, and that the same frequently happens to persons, some of them eminently remarkable for piety and learning, and have from thence accounted for the manner of mr. campbell's performing those things he professes, to the great surprise, and no less satisfaction of all the curious who are pleased to consult him; and at the same time proved the lawfulness of such his performances from the opinions of some of the most learned in holy science; i thought it not improper to add the following short appendix, being a summary of several acts of parliament made against fortune-tellers, conjurers, egyptians, sorcerers, pretenders to prophecy, &c., with some proper remarks, suited to our present purpose, as well to satisfy them who are fantastically wise, and obstinately shut their eyes against the most refulgent reason, and are wilfully deaf to the most convincing and persuasive arguments, and thereupon cry out, that mr. campbell is either an impostor and a cheat, or at least a person who acts by the assistance of unlawful powers; as also to put to silence the no less waspish curs, who are always snarling at such whom providence has distinguished by more excellent talents than their neighbours. true merit is always the mark against which traducers level their keenest darts; and wit and invention oftentimes join hands with ignorance and malice to foil those who excel. art has no greater enemy than ignorance; and were there no such thing as vice, virtue would not shine with half its lustre. did mr. campbell perform those wonderful things he is so deservedly famous for, as these cavillers say, by holding intelligence with infernal powers, or by any unjustifiable means, i am of opinion he would find very few, in this atheistical age, who would open their mouths against him, since none love to act counter to the interest of that master they industriously serve. and did he, on the other hand, put the cheat upon the world, as they maliciously assert, i fancy he would then be more generally admired, especially in a country where the game is so universally, artfully, and no less profitably played, and that with applause since those pretenders to wisdom merrily divide the whole species of mankind into the two classes of knaves and fools, fixing the appellation of folly only upon those whom they think not wise, that is, wicked enough to have a share with them in the profitable guilt. our laws are as well intended by their wise makers to screen the innocent, as to punish the guilty; and where their penalties are remarkably severe, the guilt they punish is of a proportionable size. art, which is a man's property, when acquired, claims a protection from those very laws which false pretenders thereto are to be tried and punished by, or else all science would soon have an end; for no man would dare make use of any talent providence had lent him, and his own industrious application had improved, should he be immediately tried and condemned by those statutes, which are made to suppress villains, by every conceited and half-learned pedant. it is true, indeed, those excellent statutes, which are made against a sort of people, who pretend to fortune-telling and the like, are such as are well warranted, as being built upon the best foundation, viz., religion and policy; and were mr. campbell guilty of any such practice as those are made to punish, i openly declare, that i should be so far from endeavouring to defend his cause, that i would be one of the first that should aggravate his crime, thereby to enforce the speedier execution of those laws upon him, which are made against such offenders. but when he is so far from acting, that he doth not even pretend to any such practice, or for countenancing the same in others, as is manifest from the many detections he has made of that sort of villany, which the book furnishes us with, i think myself sufficiently justified for thus pleading in his defence. i cannot but take notice, in reading the statutes made against such offenders, our wise legislature hath not in any part of them seemed so much as to imply that there are in reality any such wicked persons as they are made against, to wit, conjurors, &c., but that they are only pretenders to those infernal arts, as may reasonably be inferred from the nature of the penalties they inflict; for our first laws of that sort only inflicted a penalty which affected the goods and liberty of the guilty, and not their lives, though indeed they were afterwards forced to heighten the punishment with a halter; not that they were better convinced, as i humbly conceive, but because the criminals were most commonly persons who had no goods to forfeit, and to whom their liberty was no otherwise valuable but as it gave them the opportunity of doing mischief. indeed our law-books do furnish us with many instances of persons who have been tried and executed for witchcraft and sorcery, but then the wiser part of mankind have taken the liberty to condemn the magistrate, at that time of day, of too much inconsideration, and the juries of an equal share of credulity; and those who have suffered for such crimes, have been commonly persons of the lowest rank, whose poverty might occasion a dislike of them in their fellow-creatures, and their too artless defence subject them to their mistaken justice; so that, upon the whole, i take the liberty to conclude, and i hope not without good grounds, that those laws were made to deter men from an idle pretence to mysterious and unjustifiable arts, which, if too closely pursued, commonly lead them into the darkest villany, not only that of deceiving others, but, as far as in them lie, making themselves slaves to the devil; and not to prevent and hinder men from useful inquiries, and from the practice of such arts, which though they are in themselves mysterious, yet are, and may be lawful. i would not, however, be thought, in contradiction to my former arguments, to assert that there never were, or that there now are no persons such as wizards, sorcerers, &c., for by so doing i should be as liable to be censured for my incredulity, as those who defame mr. campbell on that account are for their want of reason and common honesty. holy and profane writ, i confess, furnishes us with many instances of such persons; but we must not from thence hastily infer, that all those men are such who are spitefully branded with the odious guilt; for were it in the devil's power to make every wicked man a wizard, and woman a witch, he soon would have agents enough to shake this lower world to atoms but the almighty, who restrains him, likewise restrains those. having premised thus much, i shall now proceed to consider some of the acts of parliament themselves; the persons against whom they were made, and the necessity of making the same. and some of the first acts we meet with, were those which were made against a sort of people called egyptians; persons who, if in reality such, might, if any, be suspected of practising what we call the black art, the same having been for many ages encouraged in their country; nay, so much has it been by them favoured, that it was introduced into their superstitious religion, if i may without an absurdity call it so, and made an essential part thereof; and, i believe, mahometanism has not much mended the matter, since it has imperiously reigned there, or in any respect reformed that idolatrous nation. now the mischief these persons might do, being so much in the devil's power, among the unwary, was thought too considerable not to be provided against; and therefore our wise legislature, the more effectually to prevent the same, by striking at the very foundation, made an act in henry viii. : that if any, calling themselves egyptians, do come into this realm, they shall forfeit all their goods; and being demanded, shall depart the realm within fifteen days, upon pain of imprisonment; and the importers of them, by another act, were made liable to a heavy penalty. this act was continued by the philip and mary. conjuration, witchcraft, enchantment, and sorcery, to get money, or consume any person in his body, members, or goods, or to provoke any person to unlawful love, was by the henry viii. . and the elizabeth . and the james i. . made felony; and by the same henry viii. . it was made felony to declare to another any false prophecies upon arms, &c., but this act was repealed by the edward vi. ., but by another act of the and of edward vi. . it was again enacted, that all such persons who should pretend to prophecies, &c., should, upon conviction, for the first offence forfeit ten pounds, and one year's imprisonment; and for the second offence, all his goods, and imprisonment for life. and by the edward vi. . the same was made to continue but till the then next sessions of parliament. and by the elizabeth . the same act was again renewed against fantastical prophesiers, &c., but both those acts were repealed by the james i. . thus far we find, that for reasons of state, and for the punishment of particular persons, those acts were made and repealed, as occasion required, and not kept on foot, nor indeed were they ever made use of, as i can remember in my reading, against any persons whose studies led them into a useful inquiry into the nature of things, or a lawful search into the workings of nature itself, by which means many things are foretold long before they come to pass, as eclipses and the like, which astrologers successfully do, whose art has been in all ages held in so great esteem that the first monarchs of the east made it their peculiar study, by which means they deservedly acquired to themselves the name of magi, or wise men; but, on the contrary, were provided against persons profligate and loose, who, under a pretence and mask of science, commit vile and roguish cheats; and this will the more plainly appear, if we consider the letter and express meaning of the following acts, wherein the persons i am speaking of, are described by such characters, which sufficiently prove the assertion; for in the of elizabeth . it was enacted, that all persons calling themselves scholars, going about begging, seafaring men pretending losses of their ships and goods at sea, and going about the country begging, or using any subtle craft, feigning themselves to have knowledge in physiognomy, palmistry, or any other the like crafty science, or pretending that they can tell destinies, fortunes, or such like fantastical imaginations, shall be taken and deemed rogues, vagabonds, sturdy beggars, and shall be stripped naked from the middle upwards, and whipped till his or her body be bloody. and by the james i. . for the better restraining of the said offences, and for the farther punishing the same, it was farther enacted, that any person or persons using witchcraft, sorcery, &c., and all their aiders, abettors, and counsellors, being convicted, and attainted of the same offences, shall suffer pain of death, as felons, without the benefit of clergy; or to tell and declare in what place any treasure of gold and silver should or might be found in the earth, or other secret places; or where goods or things lost or stolen should be found or become; or to provoke any person to unlawful love, such offender to suffer imprisonment for one whole year without bail or mainprise, and once in every quarter of the said year shall in some market-town, or upon the market-day, or at any such time as any fair shall be kept there, stand openly in the pillory by the space of six hours, and there shall openly confess his or their offence; and for the second offence shall suffer death as felons, without the benefit of clergy. that these laws were made against a set of villains, whose natural antipathy to honesty and labour furnished them with pretensions to an uncommon skill, thereby the more easily to gull and cheat the superstitiously credulous, and by that means discover from them some such secrets that might farther them in perpetrating the more consummate villany, is plain from the very words and expressions of the very acts themselves, and the description of the persons they are made against; and not, as i before observed, to prevent and hinder men from the lawful inquiry after useful, delightful, and profitable knowledge. mr. campbell, who has been long a settled and reputable inhabitant in many eminent parts of the city of london, cannot, i am sure, be looked upon as one of those these acts of parliament were made against, unless we first strip the acts themselves of their own natural, express, and plain meaning, and clothe them with that which is more obscure, unnatural, forced, and constrained a practise; which, if allowed, would make them wound the innocent and clear the guilty, and render them not our defence but our greatest evil; they would, by that means, become a perfect enigma, and be so far from being admired for their plainness, that they would be even exploded like the oracles of the heathen for their double meaning. if mr. campbell has the second-sight, as is unquestionable, from the allowed maxim, that what has been may be again, and by that means can take a view of contingences and future events; so long as he confines these notices of approaching occurrences to a good purpose, and makes use of them only innocently and charitably to warn persons from doing such things, that according to his conceptions would lead them into misfortune, or else in putting them upon such arts that may be of use and benefit to themselves and posterity, always having a strict regard to morality and religion, to which he truly adheres; certainly, i think, he ought so much the more to be admired for the same, by how much the more this his excellent knowledge is surpassing that of other men, and not be therefore unjustly upbraided with the injurious character of a cheat, or an ill man: however, this i will presume to affirm, and i doubt not but to have my opinion confirmed by the learned sages of the law, that this his innocent practice, and i venture to add, honest one too, doth by no means entitle him to the penalties of the before-mentioned laws made against fortune-tellers, and such sort of profligate wretches; which it is as great an absurdity to decry, as it would be to call him, who is a settled and reputable inhabitant, a stroller or wandering beggar. again; it is true that mr. campbell has relieved many that have been supposed to have been bewitched, as is related and well attested in the book of his life; but will any one from thence argue that he himself is a real conjurer, or wizard, because he breaks the chains by which those unhappy wretches were bound? no, surely; for if that were the case, we might then as well indict the physician who drives away a malignant distemper, and roots out its latent cause by his mysterious skill in plants and drugs; or conclude that the judge, who condemns a criminal, is for the same reason guilty of the self-same crime for which the offender is so by him condemned. persons who delight in such unnatural conclusions, must certainly be in love with the greatest absurdities, and must entirely abandon their natural reason before they can be brought to conclude that the prince of darkness would assist men in destroying his own power. the best answer i can afford those men is silence; for if they will not argue upon the principles of reason, or be guided by her dictates, i think them no more fit to be contended with in a rational and decent manner than bedlamites, and such who are bereft of all understanding. a rod is the best argument for the back of a fool, and contempt the best usage that ought to be shown to every headstrong and ignorant opponent. in a word, i know of no branch of mr. campbell's practice that bears the least resemblance to those crimes mentioned in the foregoing acts. that he can and doth tell people's names at first sight, though perfect strangers to him, is confessed by all who have made the curious inquiry at his hands; but what part of the acts, i would fain know, is that against? knowledge, and a clear sight into things not common, is not only an allowable, but a commendable qualification; and whether this knowledge in him be inherent, accidental, or the result of a long study, the case is still the same; since we are assured he doth it by no unlawful intelligence, or makes use of the same to any ill purpose, and therefore is undoubtedly as lawful as to draw natural conclusions from right premises. hard is the fate of any man to be ignorant, but much harder would his lot be if he were to be punished for being wise; and, like mr. campbell, excelling others in this kind of knowledge. much more might be said in defence of mr. campbell and the art he professeth, but as the arguments which are brought against him by his enemies on the one hand, are trivial and ill-grounded, i therefore think they deserve no farther refutation; so on the other, his innocency is too clear to require it. after having thus taken a survey of mr. campbell's acts, with regard to their legality according to the statutes and the laws of the nation wherein he lives, we will consider next, whether, according to the stated rules of casuistry, among the great divines eminent for their authority, it may be lawful for mr. campbell to predict, or for good christian persons to visit his house, and consult him about his predictions. i have upon this head examined all the learned casuists i could meet with in ancient times, for i cannot meet, in my reading, with any moderns that treat thoroughly upon this case, or i should rather have chosen them, because, perhaps, the second-sight was less known in those ancient days than it has been since, and so might escape their notice. my design is first to give the reader a distinct summary of all that has been said of this matter, and to do it as succinctly and briefly as possible, and then to argue myself from what they agree upon as to this man's particular case. that the reader may have recourse to the authors themselves, if they have a curiosity, and find that i do not go about to impose upon their judgments, i will here tell the reader where he may find the whole contents of the following little abstract of divinity and casuistry, because it would be a tedious piece of work to set down the words of each of them distinctly, and quote them every one round at the end of their several different sentences, which tend to the same meaning, but i will strictly keep to the sense of them all; and i here give the reader their names, and the places, that he may consult them himself, if his inclination leads him to be so curious: thomas aquinas, iv. _distin._ . _quæstio._ . _art. _; bona, ii. _dist. . art. . quæst._ ; joannes major, iv. _dist. . quæst. _; sylvester, _verbo malefico. quæst. _; rosella, _verb impedimentum_, xv. cap. ; tabiena, _verb. impedimentum_, vers.; cajetan, tom. ii. _opusc. . de malefic_; alphonsus, _a cast._ lib. x. _de justa hæreticorum punitione_, cap. ; cosmus philiarchus, _de offic. sacerdot_, p. . lib. iii. cap. ; toletus, _in summa._ lib. iv., cap. ; spineus, _in tract. de strigibus_; petrus binsfield, _in tract. de confessionibus maleficorum_. these divines have generally written upon impious arts of magic, which they call by the name of divination; and this divination, as they term it, they divide into two kinds; the one, in which the devil is expressly invoked, to teach hidden and occult things; the other, in which he is tacitly called upon to do the same. an express invocation is made by word or deed, by which a real pact is actually made with the devil, and that is a sin that affects the death of the soul, according to the laws of theology, and ought to affect the death of the body, according to civil and political laws. the tacit invocation of demons is then only, when a man busies himself so far with such persons, that it is meet and just that the devil should be permitted to have to do with him, though it was opposite to the intention of the man. but then this express invocation is again subdivided into several species, according to the divers manners by which the devil instructs these men. the first is enchantment, which i need not describe, and of which i will speak no more, because it is what everybody knows to be detestable, and nobody ought to know the art thereof. the second is divination by dreams, when any instructions are expected from the devil by way of dream, which is a capital crime. the third is called necromancy, which is, when by the use of blood and writing, or speaking certain verses, the dead seem to rise again, and speak and teach future things. for though the devil cannot recall a soul departed, yet he can, as some have thought, take the shape of the dead corpse, himself actuate it by his subtlety, as if it was informed with a soul. and some affirm, that by the divine permission the devil can do this, and spake so in the case of samuel and saul. but divines of a more solid genius attribute that power only to the deity, and say, with reason, that it is beyond the devil's capacity. but it is certain this was a divination done in dead animals by the use of their blood, and therefore the word is derived from the greek [greek: nekron], which signifies dead, and [greek: manthêa], which signifies divination. the fourth species is called divination by the pythians, which was taken from apollo, the first diviner, as thomas aquinas says in his _secundâ secundæ, quæst. . art. _. the fifth is called geomancy, which is when the devil teaches anything by certain signs appearing in the earthly bodies, as in wood, iron, or polished stones, beryls, or glass. the sixth is named hydromancy, as when a demon teaches anything by appearances in the water. the seventh is styled æromancy; and it is when he informs people of such things by figures in the air. the eighth is entituled pyromancy; that is, when it instructs people by forms appearing in the fire. the ninth is termed aruspicy; which is when by signs appearing in the bowels of sacrificed animals the demon predicts at altars. thus far as to express divination, or invocation of the devil, which is detestable; and the very consulting of persons that use such unlawful means is, according to the judgment of all casuists, the high road to eternal damnation. now as to tacit divination, or invocation of the devil, that is divided into two subaltern kinds. the first kind is, when for the sake of knowing hidden things, they make use of a vain and superstitious disposition existing in things to judge from; which disposition is not of a sufficient virtue to lead them to any real judgment. the second kind of tacit divination is, when that knowledge is sought by the disposition of those things which men effect on purpose and of their own accord, in order to come by and acquire that knowledge. both these kinds of tacit divination are again subdivided into several species, as are particularly mentioned by st. thomas, _secundâ secundæ, quæst. , art. _; gregory de valentine, tom. iii. _disput. . quæst. . puncto _; toletus, _in summa._ lib. iv. cap. ; and michael medina, lib. ii. _de recta in deum fide: post sanctum augustinum_. lib. ii. _de doct. christ._ cap. . _et seq_. the first of these kinds of tacit divination contains under it the following several species:-- the first species is called genethliacal, which is when from the movement or situation of the stars, men's nativities are calculated and inquired into so far, as that from such a search they pretend to deduce the knowledge of human effects, and the contingent events that are to attend them. this thomas aquinas and sixtus quintus condemns; but i shall, with humility and submission to greater judgments, inquire hereafter into their reasons, and give my opinion why i think this no evil art; but i submit my opinion, if, after it is given, it is thought erroneous. the second is augury, when anything is predicted from the chattering of birds, or the voice of animals, and this may be either lawful or unlawful. if it comes from natural instinct, for brutes having only a sensitive soul, have their organs subject to the disposition of the greater bodies in which they are contained, and principally of all to the celestial bodies, his augury is not amiss. for if when crows are remarked to caw, as the vulgar phrase is, more than ordinary, it is, judging according to the instinct of their nature, if we expect rain, and we may reasonably depend upon it, we shall be right if we foretell rain to be at hand. but sometimes the devils actuate those brute animals to excite vain ideas in men, contrary to what the instinct of their nature compels them to. this is superstitious and unlawful, and forbid in holy writ. the third is aruspicy, when from the flight of birds, or any other motion of any animals whatsoever, persons pretend to have an insight and a penetrative knowledge into occult and hidden matters. the fourth consists in omens, when, for example, a man from any words which others may have spoken on purpose, or by accident, pretends to gather a way of looking into and knowing anything of futurity. the fifth is chiromancy, which consists in making a pretence to the knowledge of future things by the figures and the lines of the hands; and if it be by consulting the shoulder-bones of any beast, it goes by the name of spatulamancy. * * * * * as the first kind of divination, by a tacit invocation of the devil is divided into the five species above mentioned; so also is the second kind of tacit divination, or invocation of the devil, divided into two species by st. thomas of aquin. _secundâ secundæ, questione nonagesima quinta articulo tertio_, and too tedious to insert here. now all these ways are by these divines counted wicked, and i set them down that people may avoid them. for how many gipsies and pretenders to chiromancy have we in london and in the country? how many that are for hydromancy, that pretend in water to show men mighty mysteries? and how many in geomancy, with their beryls and their glasses, that, if they are not under the instigation of the devil, propagate the scandal at least by being cheats, and who ought to be punished to the utmost severity, as our english laws enact? mr. campbell, who hates, contemns, and abhores these ways, ought, methinks, to be encouraged by their being restrained; and people of curious tempers, who always receive from him moral and good instructions, which make them happy in the conduct of life, should be animated in a public manner to consult him, in order to divert the curious itch of their humours from consulting such wicked impostors, or diabolical practisers, as too frequently abound in this nation, by reason of the inquisitive vulgar, who are more numerous in our climate, than any i ever read of. but now to argue the case of conscience with regard to his particular practice by way of the second-sight, whether, _in foro conscientiæ_, it is lawful for him to follow it, or others to consult him? the divines above mentioned having never had any notice of that faculty in all likelihood, or if they had, never mentioned it, makes it a point more difficult for me to discuss; but i think they have stated some cases, by the making of which my premises, i can deduce from all the learned men i have above quoted, a conclusion in favour of our mr. duncan campbell, and of those who consult him; but my opinion shall be always corrected by those who are wiser than myself, and to whom i owe entire submission. i take leave to fix these premises from them first, and to form my argument from them afterwards in the following manner:-- first, it is allowed by all these divines, that a knowledge which one may have of future things within the order of nature, is and may be lawful. secondly, they imply, that where justice is not violated, it is lawful both to predict and to consult. thirdly, many of them, but particularly aureolus, puts this question: is it lawful to go to one that deals in the black art, to persuade them to cure any innocent body that another necromancer or dealer in the black art may have maliciously afflicted and tormented with pains? and some of these casuists, particularly aureolus, say, it is lawful on such an occasion to go to such a conjurer, because the end is not conjuration, but freeing a person from it. but i take leave to dissent from these great men, and think they are in a double mistake; first, in stating the question, and then in making such an answer, provided the question had been stated right. the question is founded upon this supposition, which is passed by as granted, viz., that one necromancer could release a person bewitched by another, which is absolutely false; for it is against the nature of the devil to be made an instrument to undo his own works of impiety. but admitting and not granting this to be possible, and the question to be rightly stated, why still these casuists are out in their answer. it is lawful, reply they, because the end of going to the conjurers, is not conjuration, but freeing a good person from it; but the end is not the point here to be considered, it is the medium, which is bad, that is to be considered. it is by conjuration, according to their hypothesis, the other conjuration is to be dissolved; and does not the common rule, that a man must not do evil that good may come of it, forbid this practice? and to speak my opinion plainly in that case, the friend that should consult a conjurer for that end, would be only so kind to put his own soul in danger of being guilty of hell torments, to relieve his afflicted friend from some bodily pains, which it would be a virtue in him to suffer with patience and resignation. others, almost all divines, indeed, agree, that it is and may be lawful to go to a conjurer that torments another, and give him money not to afflict the patient any longer; because that is only feeing him to desist from acting after his conjuring manner. these premises thus settled, if we allow the second-sight to be inborn and inbred, and natural and common to some families, which is proved in the book; and if all that mr. campbell has predicted in that second-sighted way terminates with moral advice, and the profit of the consulter, and without the violation of justice to others, as the book shows all throughout; if he can relieve from witchcraft, as it seems oath is to be had he can, which no one that deals in black art can do, why then i need not draw the conclusion, every reader will do it naturally; they will avow all the strictest laws of casuistry and morality to be in favour of mr. campbell and his consulters. verses to mr. campbell, on the history of his life and adventures. i court no muse amidst the tuneful throng, thy genii, campbell, shall inspire my song; the gentle summons every thought obeys, wakens my soul, and tunes it all to lays. among the thousand wonders thou hast shown, i, in a moment, am a poet grown; the rising images each other meet; fall into verse, and dance away with feet: now with thy cupid and thy lamb i rove[a], through ev'ry bloomy mead and fragrant grove. a thousand things i can myself divine, thy little genii whispers them to mine; beyond the grave i see thy deathless fame, the fair and young all singing campbell's name; and love himself--for love and thou art friends, he joins the chorus, and his dart defends. what noisy talker can thy magic boast? let those dull wretches try who scorn thee most. o, sacred silence! let me ever dwell, with the sweet muses, in thy lonely cell! or else bind up, in thy eternal chain, scandal and noise, and all that talk in vain. m. fowke. to mrs. fowke, occasioned by the foregoing verses sweet nightingale! whose artful numbers show, expressive eloquence to silent woe, sing on, and in thy sex's power presume, by praising campbell, to strike nations dumb. whene'er you sing, silent, as he, they'll stand, speak by their eyes, grow eloquent by hand: tongues are confusion, but as learnt by you, all but pythagoras's doctrine's true; campbell and he taught silence--had he heard how much thy lays to silence were preferr'd, he had recanted from thy powerful song, and justly wish'd each organ had a tongue. but could he see, what you, in every line, prophetic tell of campbell's sight divine, like croesus's sons his loosened nerves must break, and ask the cause--or make his campbell speak. g. s. * * * * * to mr. campbell. milton's immortal wish[b] you sure must feel, to point those fates which you to all reveal; if second-sight so much alarms mankind, what transports must it give to know thy mind? thy book is but the shadow of thy worth, like distant lights, which set some picture forth. but if the artist's skill we nearer trace, and strictly view each feature of the face, we find the charm that animates the whole, and leave the body to adore the soul. milton's immortal wish you sure must feel, to point those fates which you to all reveal. i. philips. * * * * * the parallel to mr. campbell. as denham sings, mysterious 'twas, the same should be the prophet's and the poet's name[c]; but while the sons of genius join to praise, what thine presaging dictates to their lays, the things they sweetly sing, and you foreshow, open the sampson riddle to our view; strong are thy prophecies, their numbers sweet, and with the lion combs of honey meet. late on fantastic cabalistic schemes, of waking whimsies, or of feverish dreams, new cobweb threads of poetry were spun, in gaudy snares, like flies, were witlings won, their brains entangled, and our art undone. pope, first, descended from a monkish race, cheapens the charms of art, and daubs her face; from gabalis[d] his mushroom fictions rise, lop off his sylphs--and his belinda[e] dies; the attending insects hover in the air, no longer than they're present is she fair; some dart those eyebeams, which the youths beguile, and some sit conquering in a dimpling smile. some pinch the tucker, and some smooth the smock. some guard an upper, some a lower lock; but if these truant body-guards escape, in whip the gnomes and strait commit a rape; the curling honours of her head they seize, hairs less in sight, or any hairs they please; but if to angry frowns her brow she bends, upon her front some sullen gnome descends, whisks through the furrows with its airy form, bristles her eyebrows and 'directs the storm.' as wide from these are addisonian themes, as angels' thoughts are from distempered dreams; spenser and he, to image nature, knew, like living persons, vice and virtue drew: at once instructed and well pleas'd we read, while in sweet morals these two poets lead, no less to wisdom than to wit pretence, they led by music, but they led to sense. but pope scarce ever force to fancy joins, with dancing-master's feet equips his lines, plumes empty fancy, and in tinsel shines. or if by chance his judgment seems to lead, where one poor moral faintly shows its head, 'tis like a judge, that reverently drest, peeps through the pageants at a lord may'r's feast; by starts he reasons, and seems wise by fits, such wit's call'd wisdom, that has lost its wits. unnam'd by me this witling bard had been, had not the writer's caused the reader's sin; but less by comedies and lewd romances, are ruin'd, less by french lascivious dances, than by such rhymers' masqueraded fancies. from such the root of superstition grew, whose old charms fertile, daily branch'd in new; from such chimeras first inspired, the fair the conj'rer's ring approach'd, and jesuit's chair; throng'd to the doors where magic rogues divin'd, and sold out _ignes fatui_ to the mind. wizards and jesuits differ but in name, both demon's envoys, and their trade the same; weak wills they lead, and vapour'd minds command, and play the game into each others' hand; like spiritual jugglers at the cup and ball, rising by foolish maids, that long to fall. some into love they damn, and some they pray, for greensick minds are caught a different way; to the same end, tho' several paths, they run, priests to undo and maids to be undone; some blacker charms, some whiter spells cajole, as some lick wall and some devour a coal. here ladies, strong in vapours, see men's faces imprinted in the conjurer's dazzling glasses, there, when, in spring time, the too praying priest, toasts, and does something better,--to the best a spouse is promised on next baptist's[f] feast. first some young contrite rake's enjoined to marry, lest--madam's forc'd to squeak for't--or, miscarry: in june, the lass does to the fields repair, where good sir domine just took the air. when, o strange wonder! near a plaintain root, she finds a coal--and so a spouse to boot. she longs to dream and to secure the sport that very day the youth design'd--must court, he does--she struck with rapture and delight. bespeaks her fancy--strongly--dreams at night. the yielding fair, the ravish'd youth obtains, a maid she passes--so his child's free gains, he has the pleasure, yet is sav'd the pains. thus when priest's wench--to cure the growing evil poor st. john baptist must forerun the devil. but if the ladies fall, at fall of leaf, or in the winter--still there's fresh relief; let her lace close four months, and if she can, st. agnes[g] heals the breach and brings the man. thus a lewd priest to vapour'd virgins cants, and into pimps reverts his vestal saints. o! dire effects of mask'd impiety! and shall they, christian muse! have aids from thee; wilt thou, like witty heathens, lewdly given, to a gehenna metamorphose heaven? wilt thou?--o no--forbid th' unhallow'd song, such profanations to rome's bard belong. let one, who gods and goddesses adores, paint them like rakes and bullies, bawds, and whores. our genii, campbell, shall be all divine, shall high o'er theirs as much distinguish'd shine, as o'er such priests or chiromancers, thine. thine, which does future time's events command to leap to sight, and in thy presence stand; thine, whose eyes glowing with a gifted ray, new roads of life o'er wisdom's alps survey, and guide benighted travellers to day. let me, for once, a daring prophet be, mark from this hour--and poetry thoul't see date a new era from thy book and thee; thy book, where, thro' the stories, thou hast laid, all moral wisdom's to the mind convey'd; and thus far prophecies each page, that all must rise by virtues, or by vices fall. poets shall blush to see their wit outdone, resume their reason and assert its throne, shall fables still for virtue's sake commend; and wit the means, shall wisdom make its end. who hopes to please, shall strive to please by pains, shall gaining fame, earn hard whate'er he gains and denham's morals join to denham's strains. here paint the thames[h] 'when running to the sea like mortal life to meet eternity.' there show both kings and subjects 'one excess, makes both, by striving, to be greater, less.' shall climb and sweat, and falling, climb up still, before he gains the height of cooper's hill. in windsor forest, if some trifling grace gives, at first blush, the whole a pleasing face, 'tis wit, 'tis true; but then 'tis common-place. the landscape-writer branches out a wood, then digging hard for't finds a silver flood. here paints the woodcock quiv'ring in the air, and there, the bounding stag and quaking hare. describes the pheasant's scarlet-circled eye, and next the slaught'ring gun that makes him die. from common epithets that fame derives, by which his most uncommon merit lives. 'tis true! if finest notes alone could show, (tun'd justly high or regularly low,) that we should fame to these mere vocals give, pope more, than we can offer, should receive. for, when some gliding river is his theme, his lines run smoother than the smoothest stream; not so when thro' the trees fierce boreas blows, the period blust'ring with the tempest grows. but what fools periods read for periods' sake? such chimes improve not heads, but make 'em ache; tho' strict in cadence on the numbers rub, their frothy substance is whip-syllabub; with most seraphic emptiness they roll, sound without sense, and body without soul. not such the bards that give you just applause, each, from intrinsic worth, thy praises draws, morals, in ev'ry page, where'er they look, they find divinely scatter'd thro' thy book: they find thee studious with praiseworthy strife, to smooth the future roads of human life, to help the weak, and to confirm the strong, make our griefs vanish, and our bliss prolong, with phineus' equal find thy large desert, and in thy praise would equal milton's art. some fools, we know, in spite of nature born, would make thee theirs, as they are mankind's scorn, for still 'tis one of truth's unerring rules, no sage can rise without a host of fools. coxcombs, by whose eternal din o'ercome, the wise in just revenge, might wish them dumb, say on the world your dumbness you impose, and give you organs they deserve to lose. impose, indeed, on all the world you would, if you but held your tongue, because you could; 'tis hard to say, if keeping silence still, in one, who, could he speak, would speak with skill, is worse, or talk in these, who talk so ill. why on that tongue should purposed silence dwell, whence every word would drop an oracle? more fools of thy known foresight make a jest, for all bate greatest gifts who share the least, (as pope calls dryden the often to the test[i]) such from thy pen, should irwin's sentence[j] wait, and at the gallows own the judge of fate. or, while with feeble impotence they rail, write wonders on, and with the wise prevail. sooner shall denham cease to be renown'd, or pope for denham's sense quit empty sound, to addison's immortal heights shall rise, or the dwarf reach him in his native skies. sooner shall real gipsies grow most fair, or false ones mighty truths like thine declare, than these poor scandal-mongers hit their aim, and blemish thine or curll's acknowledg'd fame. great nostradamus thus, his age advis'd, the mob his counsels jeer'd, some bards[k] despis'd him still, neglecting these his genius fir'd, a king encourag'd, and the world admir'd; greater (as times great tide increas'd) he grew, when distant ages proved what truths he knew; thy nobler book a greater king received, whence i predict, and claim to be believ'd, that by posterity, less fame shall be to nostradamus granted, than to thee; thee! whom the best of kings does so defend, and (myself barring) the best bards commend. h. stanhope. whitehall, june th, . [a] see mr. campbell's life, p. . [b] to see and tell of things invisible to mortal sight, paradise lost. [c] (vates) see the progress of learning. [d] see the history of the count de gabalis, from whence he has taken the machinery of his rape of the lock. [e] mrs. f--m--r. [f] see the dedication of mr. campbell's life. [g] see mr. campbell's dedication. [h] see cooper's hill. [i] see many places of his notes on homer. [j] see mr. campbell's life, page . [k] alluding to this verse, "sed cum falsa damus, nil nisi nostra damus." the end of duncan campbell. * * * * * transcriber notes: punctuation corrected without note. archaic spellings have been retained. the following corrections have been made: page iv: "two" changed to "too" (too long to dwell upon). page : "dedelighted" changed to "delighted" (however, delighted extremely in this way). page : "off" changed to "of" (night not be despaired of.). page : "a" added for continuity (for she that can dally with a heart). page : "governer" changed to "governor" (who is the governor of uma). page : "willis" changed to "wallis" (an extract from dr. wallis). page : "hiting" changed to "hitting" (that he seldom missed hitting). page : "vension" changed to "venison" (to bring a side of venison to me). page : "be" added for continuity (no demonstrative proof is to be had on either side). page : "their" changed to "there" (and left there alone). page : "know" changed to "known" (by persons of known credit). page : "inbord" changed to "inborn" (if we allow the second-sight to be inborn). page : "onger" changed to "longer" (not to afflict the patient any longer). gutenberg. omens and superstitions of southern india by edgar thurston, c.i.e. sometime superintendent of the madras government museum and of the ethnographic survey of the madras presidency t. fisher unwin london: adelphi terrace leipsic: inselstrasse preface this book deals mainly with some aspects of what may be termed the psychical life of the inhabitants of the madras presidency, and the native states of travancore and cochin. in my "ethnographic notes in southern india" ( ), i stated that the confused chapter devoted to omens, animal superstitions, evil eye, charms, sorcery, etc., was a mere outline sketch of a group of subjects, which, if worked up, would furnish material for a volume. this chapter has now been remodelled, and supplemented by notes collected since its publication, and information which lies buried in the seven bulky volumes of my encyclopædic "castes and tribes of southern india" ( ). the area dealt with (roughly, , square miles, with a population of , , ) is so vast that i have had perforce to supplement the personal knowledge acquired in the course of wandering expeditions in various parts of southern india, and in other ways, by recourse to the considerable mass of information, which is hidden away in official reports, gazetteers, journals of societies, books, etc. to the many friends and correspondents, european and indian, who have helped me in the accumulation of facts, and those whose writings i have made liberal use of, i would once more express collectively, and with all sincerity, my great sense of indebtedness. my thanks are due to mr l. k. anantha krishna iyer for supplying me with the illustrations of malabar yantrams. contents   page i. omens ii. animal superstitions iii. the evil eye iv. snake worship v. vows, votive and other offerings vi. charms vii. human sacrifice viii. magic and human life ix. magic and magicians x. divination and fortune-telling xi. some agricultural ceremonies xii. rain-making ceremonies index list of illustrations malayan exorcist with fowl in mouth (see p. ) frontispiece   page sacred vultures, tirukazhukunram evil eye figures, malabar evil eye figures set up in fields impressions of hand on wall of house praying for offspring before lingam, snake-stones, and figure of ganesa pulluvan with pot-drum vettuvans wearing leafy garments silver votive offerings clay and metal offerings, south canara subramaniya yantram hanuman yantram meriah sacrifice post jumadi bhutha, south canara figure washed ashore at calicut korava woman telling fortune omens and superstitions of southern india i omens in seeking for omens, natives consult the so-called science of omens or science of the five birds, and are guided by them. selected omens are always included in native calendars or panchangams. to the quivering and throbbing of various parts of the body as omens, repeated reference is made in the hindu classics. thus, in kalidasa's sakuntala, king dushyanta says: "this hermitage is tranquil, and yet my arm throbs. whence can there be any result from this in such a place? but yet the gates of destiny are everywhere." again, sakuntala says: "alas! why does my right eye throb?" to which gautami replies: "child, the evil be averted. may the tutelary deities of your husband's family confer happy prospects!" in the raghuvamsa, the statement occurs that "the son of paulastya, being greatly incensed, drove an arrow deep into his right arm, which was throbbing, and which, therefore, prognosticated his union with sita." a quivering sensation in the right arm is supposed to indicate marriage with a beautiful woman; in the right eye some good luck. during a marriage among the telugu tottiyans, who have settled in the tamil country, a red ram without blemish is sacrificed. it is first sprinkled with water, and, if it shivers, this is considered a good omen. it is recorded, [ ] in connection with the legends of the badagas of the nilgiris, that "in the heart of the banagudi shola (grove), not far from the dodduru group of cromlechs, is an odd little shrine to karairaya, within which are a tiny cromlech, some sacred water-worn stones, and sundry little pottery images representing a tiger, a mounted man, and some dogs. these keep in memory, it is said, a badaga who was slain in combat with a tiger; and annually a festival is held, at which new images are placed there, and vows are paid. a kurumba (jungle tribe) makes fire by friction, and burns incense, throws sanctified water over the numerous goats brought to be sacrificed, to see if they will shiver in the manner always held necessary in sacrificed victims, and then slays, one after the other, those which have shown themselves duly qualified." in many villages, during the festival to the village deity, water is poured over a sheep's back, and it is accepted as a good sign if it shivers. "when the people are economical, they keep on pouring water till it does shiver, to avoid the expense of providing a second victim for sacrifice. but, where they are more scrupulous, if it does not shiver, it is taken as a sign that the goddess will not accept it, and it is taken away." [ ] before the thieving koravas set out on a predatory expedition, a goat is decorated, and taken to a shrine. it is then placed before the idol, which is asked whether the expedition will be successful. if the body of the animal quivers, it is regarded as an answer in the affirmative; if it does not, the expedition is abandoned. if, in addition to quivering, the animal urinates, no better sign could be looked for. thieves though they are, the koravas make it a point of honour to pay for the goat used in the ceremony. it is said that, in seeking omens from the quivering of an animal, a very liberal interpretation is put on the slightest movement. it is recorded by bishop whitehead [ ] that, when an animal has been sacrificed to the goddess nukalamma at coconada, its head is put before the shrine, and water poured on it. if the mouth opens, it is accepted as a sign that the sacrifice is accepted. at the death ceremonies of the idaiyans of coimbatore, a cock is tied to a sacrificial post, to which rice is offered. one end of a thread is tied to the post, and the other end to a new cloth. the thread is watched till it shakes, and then broken. the cock is then killed. of omens, both good and bad, in malabar, the following comprehensive list is given by mr logan [ ]:-- "good.--crows, pigeons, etc., and beasts as deer, etc., moving from left to right, and dogs and jackals moving inversely, and other beasts found similarly and singly; wild crow, ruddy goose, mungoose, goat, and peacock seen singly or in couples either at the right or left. a rainbow seen on the right and left, or behind, prognosticates good, but the reverse if seen in front. buttermilk, raw rice, puttalpira (trichosanthes anguina, snake-gourd), priyangu flower, honey, ghi (clarified butter); red cotton juice, antimony sulphurate, metal mug, bell ringing, lamp, lotus, karuka grass, raw fish, flesh, flour, ripe fruits, sweetmeats, gems, sandalwood, elephants, pots filled with water, a virgin, a couple of brahmans, rajas, respectable men, white flower, white yak tail, [ ] white cloth, and white horse. chank shell (turbinella rapa), flagstaff, turban, triumphal arch, fruitful soil, burning fire, elegant eatables or drinkables, carts with men in, cows with their young, mares, bulls or cows with ropes tied to their necks, palanquin, swans, peacock and crane warbling sweetly. bracelets, looking-glass, mustard, bezoar, any substance of white colour, the bellowing of oxen, auspicious words, harmonious human voice, such sounds made by birds or beasts, the uplifting of umbrellas, hailing exclamations, sound of harp, flute, timbrel, tabor, and other instruments of music, sounds of hymns of consecration and vedic recitations, gentle breeze all round at the time of a journey. "bad.--men deprived of their limbs, lame or blind, a corpse or wearer of a cloth put on a corpse, coir (cocoanut fibre), broken vessels, hearing of words expressive of breaking, burning, destroying, etc.; the alarming cry of alas! alas! loud screams, cursing, trembling, sneezing, the sight of a man in sorrow, one with a stick, a barber, a widow, pepper, and other pungent substances. a snake, cat, iguana (varanus), blood-sucker (lizard), or monkey passing across the road, vociferous beasts such as jackals, dogs, and kites, loud crying from the east, buffalo, donkey, or temple bull, black grains, salt, liquor, hide, grass, dirt, faggots, iron, flowers used for funeral ceremonies, a eunuch, ruffian, outcaste, vomit, excrement, stench, any horrible figure, bamboo, cotton, lead, cot, stool or other vehicle carried with legs upward, dishes, cups, etc., with mouth downwards, vessels filled with live coals, which are broken and not burning, broomstick, ashes, winnow, hatchet." in the category of good omens among the nayars of travancore, are placed the elephant, a pot full of water, sweetmeats, fruit, fish, and flesh, images of gods, kings, a cow with its calf, married women, tied bullocks, gold lamps, ghi, and milk. in the list of bad omens come a donkey, broom, buffalo, untied bullock, barber, widow, patient, cat, washerman. the worst of all omens is to allow a cat to cross one's path. an odd number of nayars, and an even number of brahmans, are good omens, the reverse being particularly bad. on the vinayakachaturthi day in the month of avani, no man is allowed to look at the rising moon, on penalty of incurring unmerited obloquy. by the pulayas of travancore, it is considered lucky to see another pulaya, a native christian, an izhuva with a vessel in the hand, a cow behind, or a boat containing sacks of rice. on the other hand, it is regarded as a very bad omen to be crossed by a cat, to see a fight between animals, a person with a bundle of clothes, or to meet people carrying steel instruments. it is a good omen for the day if, when he gets up in the morning, a man sees any of the following:--his wife's face, the lines on the palm of his right hand, his face in a mirror, the face of a rich man, the tail of a black cow, the face of a black monkey, or his rice fields. there is a legend that sita used to rise early, and present herself, bathed and well dressed, before her lord rama, so that he might gaze on her face, and be lucky during the day. this custom is carried out by all good housewives in hindu families. a fair skinned paraiyan, or a dark skinned brahman, should not, in accordance with a proverb, be seen the first thing in the morning. hindus are very particular about catching sight of some auspicious object on the morning of new year's day, as the effects of omens seen on that occasion are believed to last throughout the year. of the vishu festival, held in celebration of the new year in malabar, the following account is given by mr gopal panikkar. [ ] "being the commencement of a new year, native superstition surrounds it with a peculiarly solemn importance. it is believed that a man's whole prosperity in life depends upon the nature, auspicious or otherwise, of the first things that he happens to fix his eyes upon on this particular morning. according to nair, and even general hindu mythology, there are certain objects which possess an inherent inauspicious character. for instance, ashes, firewood, oil, and a lot of similar objects, are inauspicious ones, which will render him who chances to notice them first fare badly in life for the whole year, and their obnoxious effects will be removed only on his seeing holy things, such as reigning princes, oxen, cows, gold, and such like, on the morning of the next new year. the effects of the sight of these various materials are said to apply even to the attainment of objects by a man starting on a special errand, who happens for the first time to look at them after starting. however, with this view, almost every family religiously takes care to prepare the most sightworthy objects on the new year morning. therefore, on the previous night, they prepare what is known as a kani. a small circular bell-metal vessel is taken, and some holy objects are arranged inside it. a grandha or old book made of palmyra leaves, a gold ornament, a new-washed cloth, some 'unprofitably gay' flowers of the konna tree (cassia fistula), a measure of rice, a so-called looking-glass made of bell-metal, and a few other things, are all tastefully arranged in the vessel, and placed in a prominent room inside the house. on either side of this vessel, two brass or bell-metal lamps, filled with cocoanut oil clear as diamond sparks, are kept burning, and a small plank of wood, or some other seat, is placed in front of it. at about five o'clock in the morning of the day, some one who has got up first wakes the inmates, both male and female, of the house, and takes them blindfolded, so that they may not gaze at anything else, to the seat near the kani. the members are seated, one after another, in the seat, and are then, and not till then, asked to open their eyes, and carefully look at the kani. then each is made to look at some venerable member of the house, or sometimes a stranger even. this over, the little playful urchins of the house fire small crackers which they have bought for the occasion. the kani is then taken round the place from house to house, for the benefit of the poor families, which cannot afford to prepare such a costly adornment." i gather further, in connection with the vishu festival, that it is the duty of every devout hindu to see the village deity the first of all things in the morning. for this purpose, many sleep within the temple precincts, and those who sleep in their own houses are escorted thither by those who have been the first to make their obeisance. many go to see the image with their eyes shut, and sometimes bound with a cloth. [ ] if a person places the head towards the east when sleeping, he will obtain wealth and health; if towards the south, a lengthening of life; if towards the west, fame; if towards the north, sickness. the last position, therefore, should be avoided. [ ] in the telugu country, when a child is roused from sleep by a thunderclap, the mother, pressing it to her breast, murmurs, "arjuna sahadeva." the invocation implies the idea that thunder is caused by the mahabharata heroes, arjuna and sahadeva. [ ] to dream of a temple car in motion, foretells the death of a near relative. night, but not day dreams, are considered as omens for good or evil. among those which are auspicious, may be mentioned riding on a cow, bull, or elephant, entering a temple or palace, a golden horse, climbing a mountain or tree, drinking liquor, eating flesh, curds and rice, wearing white cloths, or jewelry set with precious stones, being dressed in white cloths, and embracing a woman, whose body is smeared with sandal paste. a person will be cured of sickness if he dreams of braahmans, kings, flowers, jewels, women, or a looking-glass. wealth is ensured by a dream that one is bitten in the shade by a snake, or stung by a scorpion. one who dreams that he has been bitten by a snake is considered to be proof against snake-bite; and if he dreams of a cobra, his wife or some near relative is believed to have conceived. hindu wives believe that to tell their husband's name, or pronounce it even in a dream, would bring him to an untimely end. if a person has an auspicious dream, he should get up and not go to sleep again. but, if the dream is of evil omen, he should pray that he may be spared from its ill effects, and may go to sleep again. the arrival of a guest is foreshadowed by the hissing noise of the oven, the slipping of a winnow during winnowing, or of a measure when measuring rice. if one dines with a friend or relation on monday, wednesday, friday, or saturday, it is well; if on a tuesday, ill-feeling will ensue; if on a thursday, endless enmity; if on a sunday, hatred. while eating, one should face east, west, south, or north, according as one wishes for long life, fame, to become vainglorious, or for justice or truth. evil is foreshadowed if a light goes out during meals, or while some auspicious thing, such, for example, as a marriage, is being discussed. a feast given to the jungle paliyans by some missionaries was marred at the outset by the unfortunate circumstance that betel and tobacco were placed by the side of the food, these articles being of evil omen as they are placed in the grave with the dead. chewing a single areca nut, along with betel leaf secures vigour, two nuts are inauspicious, three are excellent, and more bring indifferent luck. the basal portion of the betel leaf must be rejected, as it produces disease; the apical part, as it induces sin; and the midrib and veins, as they destroy the intellect. a leaf on which chunam (lime) has been kept, should be avoided, as it may shorten life. before the koyis shift their quarters, they consult the omens, to see whether the change will be auspicious or not. sometimes the hatching of a clutch of eggs provides the answer, or four grains of four kinds of seed, representing the prosperity of men, cattle, sheep, and land, are put on a heap of ashes under a man's bed. any movement among them during the night is a bad omen. [ ] when a kondh starts on a shooting expedition, if he first meets an adult female, married or unmarried, he will return home, and ask a child to tell the females to keep out of the way. he will then make a fresh start, and, if he meets a female, will wave his hand to her as a sign that she must keep clear of him. the kondh believes that, if he sees a female, he will not come across animals in the jungle to shoot. if a woman is in her menses, her husband, brothers, and sons living under the same roof, will not go out shooting for the same reason. it is noted by mr f. fawcett [ ] that it is considered unlucky by the koravas, when starting on a dacoity or housebreaking, "to see widows, pots of milk, dogs urinating, a man leading a bull, or a bull bellowing. on the other hand, it is downright lucky when a bull bellows at the scene of the criminal operation. to see a man goading a bull is a good omen when starting, and a bad one at the scene. the eighteenth day of the tamil month, avani, is the luckiest day of all for committing crimes. a successful criminal exploit on this day ensures good luck throughout the year. sundays, which are auspicious for weddings, are inauspicious for crimes. mondays, wednesdays, and saturdays are unlucky until noon for starting out from home. so, too, is the day after new moon." fridays are unsuitable for breaking into the houses of brahmans or komatis, as they may be engaged in worshipping ankalamma, to whom the day is sacred. some boyas in the bellary district enjoy inam (rent free) lands, in return for propitiating the village goddesses by a rite called bhuta bali, which is intended to secure the prosperity of the village. the boya priest gets himself shaved at about midnight, sacrifices a sheep or buffalo, mixes its blood with rice, and distributes the rice thus prepared in small balls throughout the village. when he starts on this business, all the villagers bolt their doors, as it is not considered auspicious to see him then. when a student starts for the examination hall, he will, if he sees a widow or a brahman, retrace his steps, and start again after the lapse of a few minutes. meeting two brahmans would indicate good luck, and he would proceed on his way full of hope. if, when a person is leaving his house, the head or feet strike accidentally against the threshold, he should not go out, as it forebodes some impending mischief. sometimes, when a person returns home from a distance, especially at night, he is kept standing at the door, and, after he has washed his hands and feet, an elderly female or servant of the house brings a shallow plate full of water mixed with lime juice and chunam (lime), with some chillies and pieces of charcoal floating on it. the plate is carried three times round the person, and the contents are then thrown into the street without being seen by the man. he then enters the house. if a person knocks at the door of a house in the night once, twice, or thrice, it will not be opened. if the knock is repeated a fourth time, the door will be opened without fear, for the evil spirit is said to knock only thrice. a tickling sensation in the sole of the right foot foretells that the person has to go on a journey. the omens are favourable if any of the following are met with by one who is starting on a journey, or special errand:-- married woman. virgin. prostitute. two brahmans. playing of music. one carrying musical instruments. money. fruit or flowers. a light, or clear blazing fire. umbrella. cooked food. milk or curds. cow. deer. corpse. two fishes. recital of vedas. sound of drum or horn. spirituous liquor. bullock. mutton. precious stones. one bearing a silver armlet. sandalwood. rice. elephant. horse. pot full of water. married woman carrying a water-pot from a tank. pot of toddy. black monkey. dog. royal eagle. parrot. honey. hearing kind words. a gazula balija with his pile of bangles on his back. if, on similar occasions, a person comes across any of the following, the omens are unfavourable:-- widow. lightning. fuel. smoky fire. hare. crow flying from right to left. snake. new pot. blind man. lame man. sick man. salt. tiger. pot of oil. leather. dog barking on a housetop. bundle of sticks. buttermilk. empty vessel. a quarrel. man with dishevelled hair. oilman. leper. mendicant. sometimes people leave their house, and sleep elsewhere on the night preceding an inauspicious day, on which a journey is to be made. unlucky days for starting on a journey are vara-sulai, or days on which siva's trident (sula) is kept on the ground. the direction in which it lies, varies according to the day of the week. for example, sunday before noon is a bad time to start towards the west, as the trident is turned that way. it is said to be unlucky to go westward on friday or sunday, eastward on monday or saturday, north on tuesday or wednesday, south on thursday. a journey begun on tuesday is liable to result in loss by thieves or fire at home. loss, too, is likely to follow a journey begun on saturday, and sickness a start on sunday. wednesday and friday are both propitious days, and a journey begun on either with a view to business will be lucrative. the worst days for travelling are tuesday, saturday, and sunday. [ ] on more than one occasion, a subordinate in my office overstayed his leave on the ground that his guru (spiritual preceptor) told him that the day on which he should have returned was an unlucky one for a journey. if a traveller sees a hare on his way, he may be sure that he will not succeed in the object of his journey. if, however, the hare touches him, and he does not at once turn back and go home, he is certain to meet with a great misfortune. there is an authority for this superstition in the ramayana. after rama had recovered sita and returned to ayodha, he was informed that, whilst a washerman and his wife were quarrelling, the former had exclaimed that he was not such a fool as the king had been to take back his wife after she had been carried away by a stranger. rama thought this over, and resolved to send his wife into the forest. his brother, lutchmana, was to drive her there, and then to leave her alone. on their way they met a hare, and sita, who was ignorant of the purpose of the journey, begged lutchmana to return, as the omen was a bad one. [ ] if a dog scratches its body, a traveller will fall ill; if it lies down and wags its tail, some disaster will follow. to one proceeding on a journey, a dog crossing the path from right to left is auspicious. but, if it gets on his person or his feet, shaking its ears, the journey will be unlucky. a person should postpone an errand on which he is starting, if he sees a cobra or rat-snake. in a recent judicial case, a witness gave evidence to the effect that he was starting on a journey, and when he had proceeded a short way, a snake crossed the road. this being an evil omen, he went back and put off his journey till the following day. on his way he passed through a village in which some men had been arrested for murder, and found that one of two men, whom he had promised to accompany and had gone on without him, had been murdered. sneezing once is a good sign; twice, a bad sign. when a child sneezes, those near it usually say "dirgayus" (long life), or "sathayus" (a hundred years). the rishi or sage markandeya, who was remarkable for his austerities and great age, is also known as dirgayus. adults who sneeze pronounce the name of some god, the common expression being "srimadrangam." when a badaga baby is born, it is a good omen if the father sneezes before the umbilical cord has been cut, and an evil one if he sneezes after its severance. in the teluga country it is believed that a child who sneezes on a winnowing fan, or on the door-frame, will meet with misfortune unless balls of boiled rice are thrown over it; and a man who sneezes during his meal, especially at night, will also be unlucky unless water is sprinkled over his face, and he is made to pronounce his own name, and that of his birthplace and his patron deity. [ ] gaping is an indication that evil spirits have effected an entrance into the body. hence many brahmans, when they gape, snap their fingers as a preventive. [ ] when a great man yawns, his sleep is promoted by all the company with him snapping their fingers with great vehemence, and making a singular noise. it was noted by alberuni [ ] that hindus "spit out and blow their noses without any respect for the elder ones present, and crack their lice before them. they consider the crepitus ventris as a good omen, sneezing as a bad omen." in travancore, a courtier must cover the mouth with the right hand, lest his breath should pollute the king or other superior. also, at the temples, a low-caste man must wear a bandage over his nose and mouth, so that his breath may not pollute the idols. [ ] a kudumi woman in travancore, at the menstrual period, should stand at a distance of seven feet, closing her mouth and nostrils with the palm of her hand, as her breath would have a contaminating effect. her shadow, too, should not fall on any one. a kumbara potter, when engaged in the manufacture of the pot or household deity for the kurubas, should cover his mouth with a bandage, so that his breath may not defile it. the koragas of south canara are said to be regarded with such intense loathing that, up to quite recent times, one section of them called ande or pot kurubas, continually wore a pot suspended from their necks, into which they were compelled to spit, being so utterly unclean as to be prohibited from even spitting on the highway. [ ] in a note on the paraiyans (pariahs), sonnerat, writing in the eighteenth century, [ ] says that, when drinking, they put the cup to their lips, and their fingers to their mouths, in such a way that they are defiled with the spittle. a brahman may take snuff, but he should not smoke a cheroot or cigar. when once the cheroot has touched his lips, it is defiled by the saliva, and, therefore, cannot be returned to his mouth. [ ] at the festivals of the village deities in the telugu country, an unmarried madiga (telugu pariah) woman, called matangi [ ] (the name of a favourite goddess) spits upon the people assembled, and touches them with her stick. her touch and saliva are believed to purge all uncleanliness of body and soul, and are said to be invited by men who would ordinarily scorn to approach her. at a festival called kathiru in honour of a village goddess in the cochin state, the pulayans (agrestic slaves) go in procession to the temple, and scatter packets of palm-leaves containing handfuls of paddy (unhusked rice) rolled up in straw among the crowds of spectators along the route. "the spectators, both young and old, scramble to obtain as many of the packets as possible, and carry them home. they are then hung in front of the houses, for it is believed that their presence will help to promote the prosperity of the family, until the festival comes round again next year. the greater the number of trophies obtained for a family by its members, the greater, it is believed, will be the prosperity of the family." [ ] in a note on the kulwadis or chalavadis of the hassan district in mysore, captain j. s. f. mackenzie writes [ ] as follows:-- "every village has its holigiri--as the quarters inhabited by the holiars (formerly agrestic serfs) is called--outside the village boundary hedge. this, i thought, was because they are considered an impure race, whose touch carries defilement with it. such is the reason generally given by the brahman, who refuses to receive anything directly from the hands of a holiar, and yet the brahmans consider great luck will wait upon them if they can manage to pass through the holigiri without being molested. to this the holiars have a strong objection, and, should a brahman attempt to enter their quarters, they turn out in a body and slipper him, in former times it is said to death. members of the other castes may come as far as the door, but they must not enter the house, for that would bring the holiar bad luck. if, by chance, a person happens to get in, the owner takes care to tear the intruder's cloth, tie up some salt in one corner of it, and turn him out. this is supposed to neutralise all the good luck which might have accrued to the trespasser, and avert any evil which might have befallen the owner of the house." the telugu tottiyans, who have settled in the tamil country, are said by mr f. r. hemingway not to recognise the superiority of brahmans. they are supposed to possess unholy powers, especially the nalla (black) gollas, and are much dreaded by their neighbours. they do not allow any stranger to enter their villages with shoes on, or on horseback, or holding up an umbrella, lest their god should be offended. it is believed that, if any one breaks this rule, he will be visited with illness or some other punishment. i am informed by mr s. p. rice that, when smallpox breaks out in a hindu house, it is a popular belief that to allow strangers or unclean persons to go into the house, to observe festivals, and even to permit persons who have combed their hair, bathed in oil, or had a shave, to see the patient, would arouse the anger of the goddess, and bring certain death to the sick person. strangers, and young married women are not admitted to, and may not approach the house, as they may have had sexual intercourse on the previous day. it is believed that the sight or breath of muhammadans, just after they have said their prayers at a mosque, will do good to children suffering from various disorders. for this purpose, women carry or take their children, and post themselves at the entrance to a mosque at the time when worshippers leave it. most of them are hindus, but sometimes poor eurasians may be seen there. i once received a pathetic appeal from a eurasian woman in malabar, imploring me to lay my hands on the head of her sick child, so that its life might be spared. in teaching the grandha alphabet to children, they are made to repeat the letter "ca" twice quickly without pausing, as the word "ca" means "die." in malabar, the instruction of a tiyan child in the alphabet is said by mr f. fawcett to begin on the last day of the dasara festival in the fifth year of its life. a teacher, who has been selected with care, or a lucky person, holds the child's right hand, and makes it trace the letters of the malayalam alphabet in rice spread on a plate. the forefinger, which is the one used in offering water to the souls of the dead, and in other parts of the death ceremonies, must not be used for tracing the letters, but is placed above the middle finger, merely to steady it. for the same reason, a doctor, when making a pill, will not use the forefinger. to mention the number seven in telugu is unlucky, because the word (yedu) is the same as that for weeping. even a treasury officer, who is an enlightened university graduate, in counting money, will say six and one. the number seven is, for the same reason, considered unlucky by the koravas, and a house-breaking expedition should not consist of seven men. should this, however, be unavoidable, a fiction is indulged in of making the house-breaking implement the eighth member of the gang. [ ] in tamil the word ten is considered inauspicious, because, on the tenth day after the death of her husband, a widow removes the emblems of married life. probably for this reason, the offspring of kallan polyandrous marriages style themselves the children of eight and two, not ten fathers. labha is a sanskrit word meaning profit or gain, and has its equivalent in all the vernacular languages. hindus, when counting, commence with this word instead of the word signifying one. in like manner, muhammadans use the word bismillah or burketh, apparently as an invocation like the medicinal rx (oh! jupiter, aid us). when the number a hundred has been counted, they again begin with the substitute for one, and this serves as a one for the person who is keeping the tally. oriya merchants say labho (gain) instead of eko (one), when counting out the seers of rice for the elephants' rations. the people of the oriya zemindaris often use, not the year of the hindu cycle or muhammadan era, but the year of the reigning raja of puri. the first year of the reign is called, not one, but labho. the counting then proceeds in the ordinary course, but, with the exception of the number ten, all numbers ending with seven or nothing are omitted. this is called the onko. thus, if a raja has reigned two and a half years, he would be said to be in the twenty-fifth onko, seven, seventeen and twenty being omitted. [ ] for chewing betel, two other ingredients are necessary, viz., areca nuts and chunam (lime). for some reason, tamil vaishnavas object to mentioning the last by name, and call it moonavadu, or the third. at a brahman funeral, the sons and nephews of the deceased go round the corpse, and untie their kudumi (hair knot), leaving part thereof loose, tie up the rest into a small bunch, and slap their thighs. consequently, when children at play have their kudumi partially tied, and slap their thighs, they are invariably scolded owing to the association with funerals. among all hindu classes it is considered as an insult to the god to bathe or wash the feet on returning home from worship at a temple, and, by so doing, the punyam (good) would be lost. moreover, washing the feet at the entrance to a home is connected with funerals, inasmuch as, on the return from the burning-ground, a mourner may not enter the house until he has washed his feet. the badagas of the nilgiris hold an agricultural festival called devve, which should on no account be pronounced duvve, which means burning-ground. a bazaar shop-keeper who deals in colours will not sell white paint after the lamps have been lighted. in like manner, a cloth-dealer refuses to sell black cloth, and the dealer in hardware to sell nails, needles, etc., lest poverty should ensue. digging operations with a spade should be stopped before the lamps are lighted. a betel-vine cultivator objects to entering his garden or plucking a leaf after the lighting of the lamps; but, if some leaves are urgently required, he will, before plucking them, pour water from a pot at the foot of the tree on which the vine is growing. arrack (liquor) vendors consider it unlucky to set their measures upside down. some time ago, the excise commissioner informs me, the madras excise department had some aluminium measures made for measuring arrack in liquor shops. it was found that the arrack corroded the aluminium, and the measures soon leaked. the shop-keepers were told to turn their measures upside down, in order that they might drain. this they refused to do, as it would bring bad luck to their shops. new measures with round bottoms, which would not stand up, were evolved. but the shop-keepers began to use rings of indiarubber from soda-water bottles, to make them stand. an endeavour was then made to induce them to keep their measures inverted by hanging them on pegs, so that they would drain without being turned upside down. the case illustrates how important a knowledge of the superstitions of the people is in the administration of their affairs. even so trifling an innovation as the introduction of a new arrangement for maintaining tension in the warp during the process of weaving gave rise a few years ago to a strike among the hand-loom weavers at the madras school of arts. when a paidi (agriculturists and weavers in ganjam) is seriously ill, a male or female sorcerer (bejjo or bejjano) is consulted. a square divided into sixteen compartments is drawn on the floor with rice flour. in each compartment are placed a leaf-cup of butea frondosa, a quarter-anna piece, and some food. seven small bows and arrows are set up in front thereof in two lines. on one side of the square, a big cup filled with food is placed. a fowl is sacrificed, and its blood poured thrice round this cup. then, placing water in a vessel near the cup, the sorcerer or sorceress throws into it a grain of rice, giving out at the same time the name of some god or goddess. if the rice sinks, it is believed that the illness is caused by the anger of the deity, whose name has been mentioned. if the rice floats, the names of various deities are called out, until a grain sinks. when selecting a site for a new dwelling hut, the maliah savaras place on the proposed site as many grains of rice in pairs as there are married members in the family, and cover them over with a cocoanut shell. they are examined on the following day, and, if they are all there, the site is considered auspicious. among the kapu savaras, the grains of rice are folded up in leaflets of the bael tree (Ægle marmelos), and placed in a split bamboo. it is recorded by gloyer [ ] that "when a domb (vizagapatam hill tribe) house has to be built, the first thing is to select a favourable spot, to which few evil spirits (dumas) resort. at this spot they put, in several places, three grains of rice arranged in such a way that the two lower grains support the upper one. to protect the grains, they pile up stones round them, and the whole is lightly covered with earth. when, after some time, they find on inspection that the upper grain has fallen off, the spot is regarded as unlucky, and must not be used. if the position of the grains remains unchanged, the omen is regarded as auspicious. they drive in the first post, which must have a certain length, say of five, seven, or nine ells, the ell being measured from the tip of the middle finger to the elbow. the post is covered on the top with rice straw, leaves, and shrubs, so that birds may not foul it, which would be an evil omen." in madras, a story is current with reference to the statue of sir thomas munro, that he seized upon all the rice depôts, and starved the people by selling rice in egg-shells, at one shell for a rupee. to punish him, the government erected the statue in an open place without a canopy, so that the birds of the air might insult him by polluting his face. in the bellary district, the names munrol and munrolappa are common, and are given in hope that the boy may attain the same celebrity as the former governor of madras. (i once came across a telugu cultivator, who rejoiced in the name of curzon). one of sir thomas munro's good qualities was that, like rama and rob roy, his arms reached to his knees, or, in other words, he possessed the quality of an ajanubahu, which is the heritage of kings, or those who have blue blood in them. in a case of dispute between two koravas, [ ] "the decision is sometimes arrived at by means of an ordeal. an equal quantity of rice is placed in two pots of equal weight, having the same quantity of water, and there is an equal quantity of fire-wood. the judges satisfy themselves most carefully as to quantity, weights, and so on. the water is boiled, and the man whose rice boils first is declared to be the winner of the dispute. the loser has to recoup the winner all his expenses. it sometimes happens that both pots boil at the same time; then a coin is to be picked out of a pot containing boiling oil." at one of the religious ceremonies of the koravas, offerings of boiled rice (pongal) are made to the deity, poleramma, by fasting women. the manner in which the boiling food bubbles over from the cooking-pot is eagerly watched, and accepted as an omen for good or evil. a festival called pongal is observed by hindus on the first day of the tamil month tai, and derives its name from the fact that rice boiled in milk is offered to propitiate the sun god. before the ceremony of walking through fire [ ] (burning embers) at nidugala on the nilgiris, the omens are taken by boiling two pots of milk, side by side, on two hearths. if the milk overflows uniformly on all sides, the crops will be abundant for all the villages. but, if it flows over on one side only, there will be plentiful crops for villages on that side only. for boiling the milk, a light obtained by friction must be used. after the milk-boiling ceremonial, the pujari (priest), tying bells on his legs, approaches the fire-pit, carrying milk freshly drawn from a cow, which has calved for the first time, and flowers of rhododendron, leucas, or jasmine. after doing puja (worship), he throws the flowers on the embers, and they should remain unscorched for a few seconds. he then pours some of the milk over the embers, and no hissing sound should be produced. the omens being propitious, he walks over the glowing embers, followed by a udaya [ ] and the crowd of celebrants, who, before going through the ordeal, count the hairs on their feet. if any are singed, it is a sign of approaching ill-fortune, or even death. it is recorded by the rev. j. cain [ ] that, when the koyis of the godaavari district determine to appease the goddess of smallpox or cholera, they erect a pandal (booth) outside their village under a nim tree (melia azadirachta). they make the image of a woman with earth from a white-ant hill, tie a cloth or two round it, hang a few peacock's feathers round its neck, and place it under the pandal on a three-legged stool made from the wood of the silk-cotton tree (cochlospermum gossypium). they then bring forward a chicken, and try to persuade it to eat some of the grains which they have thrown before the image, requesting the goddess to inform them whether she will leave their village or not. if the chicken picks up some of the grains, they regard it as a most favourable omen; but, if not, their hearts are filled with dread of the continued anger of the goddess. at the bhudevi panduga, or festival of the earth goddess, according to mr f. r. hemingway, the koyis set up a stone beneath a terminalia tomentosa tree, which is thus dedicated to the goddess kodalamma. each worshipper brings a cock to the priest, who holds it over grains of rice, which have been sprinkled before the goddess. if the bird pecks at the rice, good luck is ensured for the coming year, whilst, if perchance the bird pecks three times, the offerer of that particular bird can scarcely contain himself for joy. if the bird declines to touch the grains, ill-luck is sure to visit the owner's house during the ensuing year. concerning a boundary oath in the mulkangiri taluk of vizagapatam, mr c. a. henderson writes to me as follows:-- "the pujari (priest) levelled a piece of ground about a foot square, and smeared it with cow-dung. the boundary was marked with rice-flour and turmeric, and a small heap of rice and cow-dung was left in the middle. a sword was laid across the heap. the pujari touched the rice-flour line with the tips of his fingers, and then pressed his knuckles on the same place, thus leaving an exit on the south side. he then held a chicken over the central heap, and muttered some mantrams. the chicken pecked at the rice, and an egg was placed on the heap. the chicken then pecked at the rice again. the ceremony then waited for another party, who performed a similar ceremony. there was some amusement because their chickens would not eat. the chickens were decapitated, and their heads placed in the square. the eggs were then broken. it was raining, and there was a resulting puddle of cow-dung, chicken's blood, egg, and rice, of which the representatives of each party took a portion, and eat it, or pretended to do so, stating to whom the land belonged. there is said to be a belief that, if a man swears falsely, he will die." though not bearing on the subject of omens, some further boundary ceremonies may be placed under reference. at sattamangalam, in the south arcot district, the festival of the goddess mariamma is said to be crowned by the sacrifice at midnight of a goat, the entrails of which are hung round the neck of the toti (scavenger), who then goes, stark naked, save for this one adornment, round all the village boundaries. [ ] it is recorded by bishop whitehead [ ] that, in some parts of the tamil country, e.g., in the trichinopoly district, at the ceremony for the propitiation of the village boundary goddess, a priest carries a pot containing boiled rice and the blood of a lamb which has been sacrificed to the boundary stone, round which he runs three times. the third time he throws the pot over his shoulder on to another smaller stone, which stands at the foot of the boundary stone. the pot is dashed to pieces, and the rice and blood scatter over the two stones and all round them. the priest then goes away without looking back, followed by the crowd of villagers in dead silence. in the cuddapah district, when there is a boundary dispute in a village, an image of the goddess gangamma is placed in the street, and left there for two days. the head of a buffalo and several sheep are offered to her, and the blood is allowed to run into the gutter. the goddess is then worshipped, and she is implored to point out the correct boundary. [ ] in mysore, if there is a dispute as to the village boundaries, the holeya [ ] kuluvadi is believed to be the only person competent to take the oath as to how the boundary ought to run. the old custom for settling such disputes is thus described by captain j. s. f. mackenzie: [ ] "the kuluvadi, carrying on his head a ball made of the village earth, in the centre of which is placed some earth, passes along the boundary. if he has kept the proper line, everything goes well, but, should he, by accident even, go beyond his own proper boundary, then the ball of earth, of its own accord, goes to pieces. the kuluvadi is said to die within fifteen days, and his house becomes a ruin. such is the popular belief." some years ago mr h. d. taylor was called on to settle a boundary dispute between two villages in jeypore under the following circumstances. as the result of a panchayat (council meeting), the men of one village had agreed to accept the boundary claimed by the other party if the head of their village walked round the boundary and eat earth at intervals, provided that no harm came to him within six months. the man accordingly perambulated the boundary eating earth, and a conditional order of possession was given. shortly afterwards the man's cattle died, one of his children died of smallpox, and finally he himself died within three months. the other party then claimed the land on the ground that the earth-goddess had proved him to have perjured himself. it was urged in defence that the man had been made to eat earth at such frequent intervals that he contracted dysentery, and died from the effects of earth-eating. [ ] when the time for the annual festival of the tribal goddess of the kuruvikkarans (marathi-speaking beggars) draws nigh, the headman or an elder piles up vigna catiang seeds in five small heaps. he then decides in his mind whether there is an odd or even number of seeds in the majority of heaps. if, when the seeds are counted, the result agrees with his forecast, it is taken as a sign of the approval of the goddess, and arrangements for the festival are made. otherwise it is abandoned for the year. at the annual festival of chaudeswari, the tribal goddess of devanga weavers, the priest tries to balance a long sword on its point on the edge of the mouth of a pot. a lime fruit is placed in the region of the navel of the idol, who should throw it down spontaneously. a bundle of betel leaves is cut across with a knife, and the cut ends should unite. if the omens are favourable, a lamp made of rice-flour is lighted, and pongal (boiled rice) offered to it. it is recorded by canter visscher [ ] that, in the building of a house in malabar, the carpenters open three or four cocoanuts, spilling the juice as little as possible, and put some tips of betel leaves into them. from the way these float on the liquid they foretell whether the house will be lucky or unlucky, whether it will stand for a long or short period, and whether another will ever be erected on its site. korava women, if their husbands are absent on a criminal expedition long enough to arouse apprehension of danger, pull a long piece out of a broom, and tie to one end of it several small pieces dipped in oil. if the stick floats in water, all is well; but, should it sink, two of the women start at once to find the men. [ ] in the village of chakibunda in the cuddapah district, there is a pool of water at the foot of a hill. those who are desirous of getting children, wealth, etc., go there and pour oil into the water. the oil is said not to float as is usual in greasy bubbles, but to sink and never rise. they also offer betel leaves, on which turmeric and kunkumam have been placed. if these leaves sink, and after some time reappear without the turmeric and kunkumam, but with the marks of nails upon them, the person offering them will gain his wishes. the contents of the leaves, and the oil, are supposed to be consumed by some divine being at the bottom of the pool. [ ] at madicheruvu, in the cuddapah district, there is a small waterfall in the midst of a jungle, which is visited annually by a large number of pilgrims. those who are anxious to know if their sins are forgiven stand under the fall. if they are acceptable the water falls on their heads, but, if they have some great guilt weighing on them, the water swerves on one side, and refuses to be polluted by contact with the sinner. [ ] among the vadas (telugu fishermen) the mannaru is an important individual who not only performs worship, but is consulted on many points. if a man does not secure good catches of fish, he goes to the mannaru to ascertain the cause of his bad luck. the mannaru holds in his hand a string on which a stone is tied, and invokes various gods and goddesses by name. every time a name is mentioned, the stone either swings to and fro like a pendulum, or performs a circular movement. if the former occurs, it is a sign that the deity whose name has been pronounced is the cause of the misfortune, and must be propitiated in a suitable manner. the nomad bauris or bawariyas, who commit robberies and manufacture counterfeit coin, keep with them a small quantity of wheat and sandal seeds in a tin or brass case, which they call devakadana or god's grain, and a tuft of peacock's feathers. they are very superstitious, and do not embark on any enterprise without first ascertaining by omens whether it will be attended with success or not. this they do by taking at random a small quantity of grains out of the devakadana, and counting the number thereof, the omen being considered good or bad according as the number is odd or even. [ ] a gang of donga dasaris, before starting on a thieving expedition, proceed to the jungle near their village in the early part of the night, worship their favourite goddesses, huligavva and ellamma, and sacrifice a sheep or fowl before them. they place one of their turbans on the head of the animal as soon as its head falls on the ground. if the turban turns to the right it is considered a good sign, the goddess having permitted them to proceed on the expedition; if to the left they return home. hanuman (the monkey god) is also consulted as to such expeditions. they go to a hanuman temple, and, after worshipping him, garland him with a wreath of flowers. the garland hangs on both sides of the neck. if any of the flowers on the right side drop down first, it is regarded as a permission granted by the god to start on a plundering expedition; and, conversely, an expedition is never undertaken if any flower happens to drop from the left side first. [ ] the kallans are said by mr f. s. mullaly [ ] to consult the deity before starting on depredations. two flowers, the one red and the other white, are placed before the idol, a symbol of their god kalla alagar. the white flower is the emblem of success. a child of tender years is told to pluck a petal of one of the two flowers, and the success of the undertaking rests upon the choice made by the child. the pulluvan astrologers of malabar sometimes calculate beforehand the result of a project in which they are engaged, by placing before the god two bouquets of flowers, one red, the other white, of which a child picks out one with its eyes closed. selection of the white bouquet predicts auspicious results, of the red the reverse. in the same way, when the kammalans (tamil artisans) appoint their anjivittu nattamaikkaran to preside over them, five men selected from each of the five divisions meet at the temple of the caste goddess, kamakshi amman. the names of the five men are written on five slips of paper, which, together with some blank slips, are thrown before the shrine of the goddess. a child, taken at random from the assembled crowd, is made to pick up the slips, and he whose name turns up first is proclaimed anjivittu nattamaikkaran. eclipses are regarded as precursors of evil, which must, if possible, be averted. concerning the origin thereof, according to tradition in malabar, mr gopal panikkar writes as follows [ ]:-- "tradition says that, when an eclipse takes place, rahu the huge serpent is devouring the sun or moon, as the case may be. an eclipse being thus the decease of one of those heavenly bodies, people must, of necessity, observe pollution for the period during which the eclipse lasts. when the monster spits out the body, the eclipse is over. food and drink taken during an eclipse possess poisonous properties, and people therefore abstain from eating and drinking until the eclipse is over. they bathe at the end of the eclipse, so as to get rid of the pollution. any one shutting himself up from exposure may be exempted from this obligation to take a bath." deaths from drowning are not unknown in madras at times of eclipse, when hindus bathe in the sea, and get washed away by the surf. it is said [ ] that, before an eclipse, the people prepare their drums, etc., to frighten the giant, lest he should eat up the moon entirely. images of snakes are offered to the deity on days of eclipse by brahmans on whose star day the eclipse falls, to appease the wrath of the terrible rahu. it is noted by mr s. m. natesa sastri [ ] that "the eclipse must take place on some asterism or other, and, if that asterism happens to be that in which any hindu was born, he has to perform some special ceremonies to absolve himself from impending evil. he makes a plate of gold or silver, or of palm leaf, according to his means, and ties it on his forehead with sanskrit verses inscribed on it. he sits with this plate for some time, performs certain ceremonies, bathes with the plate untied, and presents it to a brahman with some fee, ranging from four annas to several thousands of rupees. the belief that an eclipse is a calamity to the sun or moon is such a strong hindu belief, that no marriage takes place in the month in which an eclipse falls." i gather [ ] that, "during an eclipse, many of the people retire into their houses, and remain behind closed doors until the evil hour has passed. the time is in all respects inauspicious, and no work begun or completed during this period can meet with success; indeed, so great is the dread, that no one would think of initiating any important work at this time. more especially is it fatal to women who are pregnant, for the evil will fall upon the unborn babe, and, in cases of serious malformation or congenital lameness, the cause is said to be that the mother looked on an eclipse. women, therefore, not only retire into the house, but, in order that they may be further protected from the evil, they burn horn shavings. the evils of an eclipse are not limited to human beings, but cattle and crops also need protection from the malignant spirits which are supposed to be abroad. in order that the cattle may be preserved, they are as far as possible taken indoors, and especially those which have young calves; and, to make assurance doubly sure, their horns are smeared with chunam (lime). the crops are protected by procuring ashes from the potter's field, which seem to be specially potent against evil spirits. with these ashes images are made, and placed on the four sides of the field. comets, too, are looked upon as omens of evil." when a person is about to occupy a new house, he takes particular care to see that the planet venus does not face him as he enters it. with this star before him, he sometimes postpones the occupation, or, if he is obliged to enter, he reluctantly does so through the back-door. on the day of the capture of seringaptam, which, being the last day of a lunar month, was inauspicious, the astrologer repeated the unfavourable omen to tipu sultan, who was slain in the course of the battle. it is recorded [ ] that "to different bramins he gave a black buffalo, a milch buffalo, a male buffalo, a black she-goat, a jacket of coarse black cloth, a cap of the same material, ninety rupees, and an iron pot filled with oil; and, previous to the delivery of this last article, he held his head over the pot for the purpose of seeing the image of his face; a ceremony used in hindostan to avert misfortune." the time at which the address of welcome by the madras municipal corporation to sir arthur lawley on his taking over the governorship of madras was changed from - p.m. to p.m. on a wednesday, as the time originally fixed fell within the period of rahukalam, which is an inauspicious hour on that day. it is considered by a hindu unlucky to get shaved for ceremonial purposes in the months of adi, purattasi, margali, and masi, and, in the remaining months, sunday, tuesday, and saturday should be avoided. further, the star under which a man was born has to be taken into consideration, and it may happen that an auspicious day for being shaved does not occur for some weeks. it is on this account that orthodox hindus are sometimes compelled to go about with unkempt chins. even for anointing the body, auspicious and inauspicious days are prescribed. thus, anointing on sunday causes loss of beauty, on monday brings increase of riches, and on thursday loss of intellect. if a person is obliged to anoint himself on sunday, he should put a bit of the root of oleander (nerium) in the oil, and heat it before applying it. this is supposed to avert the evil influences. similarly on tuesday dry earth, on thursday roots of cynodou dactylon, and on friday ashes must be used. it is considered auspicious if a girl attains puberty on a monday, wednesday, thursday, or friday, and the omens vary according to the month in which the first menstrual period occurs. thus the month of vaiyasi ensures prosperity, ani male issue, masi happiness, margali well-behaved children, punguni long life and many children. at the first menstrual ceremony of a tiyan girl in malabar, her aunt, or, if she is married, her husband's sister, pours gingelly (sesamum) oil over her head, on the top of which a gold fanam (coin) has been placed. the oil is poured from a little cup made from a leaf of the jak tree (artocarpus integrifolia), flows over the forehead, and is received with the fanam in a dish. it is a good omen if the coin falls with the obverse upwards. if a brahman woman loses her tali (marriage badge), it is regarded as a bad omen for her husband. as a deva-dasi (dancing-girl) can never become a widow, the beads in her tali are considered to bring good luck to those who wear them. and some people send the tali required for a marriage to a deva-dasi, who prepares the string for it, and attaches to it black beads from her own tali. a deva-dasi is also deputed to walk at the head of hindu marriage processions. married women do not like to do this, as they are not proof against evil omens, which the procession may come across, and it is believed that deva-dasis, to whom widowhood is unknown, possess the power of warding off the effects of unlucky omens. it may be remarked, en passant, that deva-dasis are not at the present day so much patronised at hindu marriages as in former days. much is due in this direction to the progress of enlightened ideas, which have of late been strongly put forward by hindu social reformers. general burton narrates [ ] how a civilian of the old school built a house at bhavani, and established a corps de ballet, i.e., a set of nautch girls, whose accomplishments extended to singing god save the king, and this was kept up by their descendants, so that, when he visited the place in , he was "greeted by the whole party, bedizened in all their finery, and squalling the national anthem." with this may be contrasted a circular from a modern european official, which states that "during my jamabandy (land revenue settlement) tour, people have sometimes been kind enough to arrange singing or dancing parties, and, as it would have been discourteous to decline to attend what had cost money to arrange, i have accepted the compliment in the spirit in which it was offered. i should, however, be glad if you would let it be generally known that i am entirely in accord with what is known as the anti-nautch movement in regard to such performances." it was unanimously decided, in , by the executive committee of the prince and princess of wales' reception committee, that there should be no performance by nautch girls at the entertainment to their royal highnesses at madras. the marriage ceremonies of are dammaras (marathi-speaking acrobats) are supervised by an old basavi woman, and the marriage badge is tied round the bride's neck by a basavi (public woman dedicated to the deity). when a marriage is contemplated among the idaiyans (tamil shepherds) of coimbatore, the parents of the prospective bride and bridegroom go to the temple, and throw before the idol a red and white flower, each wrapped in a betel leaf. a small child is then told to pick up one of the leaves. if the one selected contains the white flower, it is considered auspicious, and the marriage will be contracted. the devanga weavers, before settling the marriage of a girl, consult some village goddess or the tribal goddess chaudeswari, and watch the omens. a lizard chirping on the right is good, and on the left bad. sometimes, red and white flowers wrapped in green leaves are thrown in front of the idol, and the omen is considered good or bad, according to the flower which a child picks up. among the hill uralis of coimbatore, a flower is placed on the top of a stone or figure representing the tribal goddess, and, after worship, it is addressed in the words: "oh! swamil (goddess), drop the flower to the right if the marriage is going to be propitious, and to the left if otherwise." should the flower remain on the image without falling either way, it is greeted as a very happy omen. when a marriage is in contemplation among the agamudaiyans (tamil cultivators), some close relations of the young man proceed to some distance northward, and wait for omens. if these are auspicious, they are satisfied. some, instead of so doing, go to a temple, and seek the omens either by placing flowers on the idol, and watching the directions in which they fall, or by picking up a flower from a large number strewn in front of the idol. if the flower picked up, and the one thought of, are of the same colour, it is regarded as a good omen. among the gudigaras (wood-carvers) of south canara, the parents of the couple go to a temple, and receive from the priest some flowers which have been used in worship. these are counted, and, if their number is even, the match is arranged. at a marriage among the malaialis of the kollaimalai hills, the garlands with which the bridal couple are adorned, are thrown into a well after the tali has been tied on the bride's neck. if they float together, it is an omen that the two will love each other. among the telugu janappans (gunny-bag makers), on the day fixed for the betrothal, those assembled wait silently listening for the chirping of a lizard, which is an auspicious sign. it is said that the match is broken off if the chirping is not heard. if the omen proves auspicious, a small bundle of nine to twelve kinds of pulses and grain is given by the bridegroom's father to the father of the bride. this is preserved, and examined several days after the marriage. if the pulses and grain are in good condition, it is a sign that the newly married couple will have a prosperous career. during the marriage ceremonies of the muhammadan daknis or deccanis, two big pots, filled with water, are placed near the milk-post. they are kept for forty days, and then examined. if the water remains sweet, and does not "teem with vermin," it is regarded as a good omen. the seed grains, too, which, as among many hindu castes, were sown at the time of the wedding, should by this time have developed into healthy seedlings. at a rona (oriya cultivator) wedding, the desari who officiates ties to the ends of the cloths of the bridal couple a new cloth, to which a quarter-anna piece is attached, betel leaves and areca nuts, and seven grains of rice. towards the close of the marriage rites on the third day, the rice is examined, to see if it is in a good state of preservation, and its condition is regarded as an omen for good or evil. on the occasion of a wedding among the badagas of the nilgiris, a procession goes before dawn on the marriage day to the forest, where two sticks of mimusops hexandra are collected, to do duty as the milk-posts. the early hour is selected, to avoid the chance of coming across inauspicious objects. at the close of the agamudaiyan marriage ceremonies, the twig of erythrina indica or odina wodier, of which the milk-post was made, is planted. if it takes root and grows, it is regarded as a favourable omen. at a palli (tamil cultivator) wedding two lamps, called kuda vilakku (pot light) and alankara vilakku (ornamental light), are placed by the side of the milk-post. the former consists of a lighted wick in an earthenware tray placed on a pot. it is considered an unlucky omen if it goes out before the conclusion of the ceremonial. prior to the betrothal ceremony of the kammas (telugu cultivators), a near relation of the future bridegroom proceeds with a party to the home of the future bride. on the way thither, they look for omens, such as the crossing of birds in an auspicious direction. immediately on the occurrence of a favourable omen, they burn camphor, and break a cocoanut, which must split in two with clean edges. one half is sent to the would-be bridegroom, and the other taken to the bride's house. when this is reached, she demands the sagunam (omen) cocoanut. if the first cocoanut does not split properly, others are broken till the desired result is obtained. in the telugu country, the services of a member of the boya caste are required if a brahman wishes to perform vontigadu, a ceremony by which he hopes to induce favourable auspices, under which to celebrate a marriage. the story has it that vontigadu was a destitute boya, who died of starvation. on the morning of the day on which the ceremony, for which favourable auspices are required, is performed, a boya is invited to the house. he is given a present of gingelly (sesamum) oil, wherewith to anoint himself. this done, he returns, carrying in his hand a dagger, on the point of which a lime has been stuck. he is directed to the cowshed, and there given a good meal. after finishing the meal, he steals from the shed, and dashes out of the house, uttering a piercing yell, and waving his dagger. he on no account looks behind him. the inmates of the house follow for some distance, throwing water wherever he has trodden. by this means, all possible evil omens for the coming ceremony are done away with. a curious mock marriage ceremony is celebrated among brahmans, when an individual marries a third wife. it is believed that a third marriage is very inauspicious, and that the bride will become a widow. to prevent this mishap, the man is made to marry the arka plant (calotropis gigantea), which grows luxuriantly in wastelands, and the real marriage thus becomes the fourth. the bridegroom, accompanied by a brahman priest and another brahman, repairs to a spot where this plant is growing. it is decorated with a cloth and a piece of string, and symbolised into the sun. all the ceremonies, such as making homam (sacred fire), tying the tali (marriage badge), etc., are performed as at a regular marriage, and the plant is cut down. on rathasapthami day, an orthodox hindu should bathe his head and shoulders with arka leaves in propitiation of surya (the sun). the leaves are also used during the worship of ancestors by some brahmans. among the tangalan paraiyans, if a young man dies before he is married, a ceremony called kannikazhital (removing bachelorhood) is performed. before the corpse is laid on the bier, a garland of arka flowers is placed round its neck, and balls of mud from a gutter are laid on the head, knees, and other parts of the body. in some places, a variant of the ceremony consists in the erection of a mimic marriage booth, which is covered with leaves of the arka plant, flowers of which are placed round the neck as a garland. adulterers were, in former times, seated on a donkey, with their face to the tail, and marched through the village. the public disgrace was enhanced by placing a garland of the despised arka leaves on their head. uppiliyan women convicted of immorality are said to be garlanded with arka flowers, and made to carry a basket of mud round the village. a konga vellala man, who has been found guilty of undue intimacy with a widow, is readmitted to the caste by being taken to the village common, where he is beaten with an arka stick, and by providing a black sheep for a feast. when a kuruvikkaran man has to submit to trial by ordeal, seven arka leaves are tied to his palms, and a piece of red-hot iron is placed thereon. his innocence is established, if he is able to carry it while he takes seven long strides. the juice of the arka plant is a favourite agent in the hands of suicides. at a brahman wedding the bridegroom takes a blade of the sacred dharba grass, passes it between the eyebrows of the bride and throws it away saying, "with this grass i remove the influence of any bad mark thou mayest possess, which is likely to cause widowhood." there is a tamil proverb relating to the selection of a wife, to the effect that curly hair gives food, thick hair brings milk, and very stiff hair destroys a family. as a preliminary to marriage among the kurubas (canarese shepherds), the bridegroom's father observes certain curls (suli) on the head of the proposed bride. some of these are believed to forebode prosperity, and others misery to the family into which the girl enters by marriage. they are, therefore, very cautious in selecting only such girls as possess curls of good fortune. one of the good curls is the bashingam on the forehead, and bad ones are the peyanakallu at the back of the head, and the edirsuli near the right temple. [ ] by the pallis (tamil cultivators) a curl on the forehead is considered as an indication that the girl will become a widow, and one on the back of the head portends the death of the eldest brother of her husband. by the tamil maravans, a curl on the forehead resembling the head of a snake is regarded as an evil omen. a woman, pregnant for the first time, should not see a temple car adorned with figures of a lion, or look at it when it is being dragged along with the image of the god seated in it. if she does, the tradition is that she will give birth to a monster. in some places, before a woman is confined, the room in which her confinement is to take place is smeared with cow-dung, and, in the room at the outer gate, small wet cow-dung cakes are stuck on the wall, and covered with margosa (melia azadirachta) leaves and cotton seeds. these are supposed to have a great power in averting evil spirits, and preventing harm to the newly-born babe or the lying-in woman. [ ] in the telugu country, it is the custom among some castes, e.g., the kapus and gamallas, to place twigs of balanites roxburghii or calotropis gigantea (arka) on the floor or in the roof of the lying-in chamber. sometimes a garland of old shoes is hung up on the door-post of the chamber. a fire is kindled, into which pieces of old leather, hair, nails, horns, hoofs, and bones of animals are thrown, in the belief that the smoke arising therefrom will protect the mother and child against evil spirits. among some classes, when a woman is pregnant, her female friends assemble, pile up before her door a quantity of rice-husk, and set fire to it. to one door-post they tie an old shoe, and to the other a bunch of tulsi (ocimum sanctum), in order to prevent the entry of any demon. a bitch is brought in, painted, and marked in the way that the women daily mark their own foreheads. incense is burnt, and an oblation placed before it. the woman then makes obeisance to it, and makes a meal of curry and rice, on which cakes are placed. if there is present any woman who has not been blessed with children, she seizes some of the cakes, in the hope that, by so doing, she may ere long have a child. [ ] in some places, when a woman is in labour, her relations keep on measuring out rice into a measure close to the lying-in room, in the belief that delivery will be accelerated thereby. sometimes a gun is fired off in an adjacent room with the same object, and i have heard of a peon (orderly), whose wife was in labour, borrowing his master's gun, to expedite matters. some hindus in madras believe that it would be unlucky for a newly-married couple to visit the museum, as their offspring would be deformed as the result of the mother having gazed on the skeletons and stuffed animals. twins are sometimes objects of superstition, especially if they are of different sexes, and the male is born first. the occurrence of such an event is regarded as foreboding misfortune, which can only be warded off by marrying the twins to one another, and leaving them to their fate in the jungle. cases of this kind have, however, it is said, not been heard of within recent times. there is a proverb that a child born with the umbilical cord round the body will be a curse to the caste. if a child is born with the cord round its neck like a garland, it is believed to be inauspicious for its uncle, who is not allowed to see it for ten days, or even longer, and then a propitiatory ceremony has to be performed. by the koravas the birth of a child with the cord round its neck is believed to portend the death of the father or maternal uncle. this unpleasant effect is warded off by the father or the uncle killing a fowl, and wearing its entrails round his neck, and afterwards burying them along with the cord. in other castes it is believed that a child born with the cord round its neck will be a curse to its maternal uncle, unless a gold or silver string is placed on the body, and the uncle sees its image reflected in a vessel of oil. if the cord is entwined across the breast, and passes under the armpit, it is believed to be an unlucky omen for the father and paternal uncle. in such cases, some special ceremony, such as looking into a vessel of oil, is performed. i am informed by the rev. s. nicholson that, if a mala (telugu pariah) child is born with the cord round its neck, a cocoanut is immediately offered. if the child survives, a cock is offered to the gods on the day on which the mother takes her first bath. when the cord is cut, a coin is placed over the navel for luck. the dried cord is highly prized as a remedy for sterility. the placenta is placed by the malas in a pot, in which are nim (melia azadirachta) leaves, and the whole is buried in some convenient place, generally the backyard. if this was not done, dogs or other animals might carry off the placenta, and the child would be of a wandering disposition. the birth of a korava child on a new moon night is believed to augur a notorious thieving future for the infant. such children are commonly named venkatigadu after the god at tirupati. [ ] the birth of a male child on the day in which the constellation rohini is visible portends evil to the maternal uncle; and a female born under the constellation moolam is supposed to carry misery with her to the house which she enters by marriage. domb children in vizagapatam are supposed to be born without souls, and to be subsequently chosen as an abode by the soul of an ancestor. the coming of the ancestor is signalised by the child dropping a chicken bone which has been thrust into its hand, and much rejoicing follows among the assembled relations. by some valaiyans (tamil cultivators), the naming of infants is performed at the aiyanar temple by any one who is under the influence of inspiration. failing such a one, several flowers, each with a name attached to it, are thrown in front of the idol. a boy, or the priest, picks up one of the flowers, and the infant receives the name which is connected with it. in connection with the birth ceremonies of the koyis of the godavari district, the rev. j. cain writes [ ] that, on the seventh day, the near relatives and neighbours assemble together to name the child. having placed it on a cot, they put a leaf of the mowha tree (bassia) in its hand, and pronounce some name which they think suitable. if the child closes its hand over the leaf, it is regarded as a sign that it acquiesces, but, if the child rejects the leaf or cries, they take it as a sign that they must choose another name, and so throw away the leaf, and substitute another leaf and name, until the child shows its approbation. it is noted, [ ] in connection with the death ceremonies of the kondhs, that, if a man has been killed by a tiger, purification is made by the sacrifice of a pig, the head of which is cut off with a tangi (axe) by a pano, and passed between the legs of the men in the village, who stand in a line astraddle. it is a bad omen to him, if the head touches any man's legs. according to another account, the head of the decapitated pig is placed in a stream, and, as it floats down, it has to pass between the legs of the villagers. if it touches the legs of any of them, it forebodes that he will be killed by a tiger. the sight of a cat, on getting out of bed, is extremely unlucky, and he who sees one will fail in all his undertakings during the day. "i faced the cat this morning," or "did you see a cat this morning?" are common sayings when one fails in anything. the paraiyans are said to be very particular about omens, and, if, when a paraiyan sets out to arrange a marriage with a certain girl, a cat or a valiyan (a bird) crosses his path, he will give up the girl. i have heard of a superstitious european police officer, who would not start in search of a criminal, because he came across a cat. house dogs should, if they are to bring good luck, possess more than eighteen visible claws. if a dog scratches the wall of a house, it will be broken into by thieves; and, if it makes a hole in the ground within a cattle-shed, the cattle will be stolen. a dog approaching a person with a bit of shoe-leather augurs success; with flesh, gain; with a meaty bone, good luck; with a dry bone, death. if a dog enters a house with wire or thread in its mouth, the master of the house must expect to be put in prison. a dog barking on the roof of a house during the dry weather portends an epidemic, and in the wet season a heavy fall of rain. there is a proverb "like a dying dog climbing the roof," which is said of a person who is approaching his ruin. the omen also signifies the death of several members of the family, so the dog's ears and tail are cut off, and rice is steeped in the blood. a goat which has climbed on to the roof is treated in like manner, dragged round the house, or slaughtered. at the conclusion of the first menstrual ceremony of a kappiliyan (canarese farmer) girl, some food is placed near the entrance to the house, which a dog is allowed to eat. while so doing, it receives a severe beating. the more noise it makes, the better is the omen for the girl having a large family. if the animal does not howl, it is supposed that the girl will bear no children. the sight of a jackal is very lucky to one proceeding on an errand. its cry to the east and north of a village foretells something good for the villagers, whereas the cry at midday means an impending calamity. if a jackal cries towards the south in answer to the call of another jackal, some one will be hung; and, if it cries towards the west, some one will be drowned. a bachelor who sees a jackal running may expect to be married shortly. if the offspring of a primipara dies, it is sometimes buried in a place where jackals can get at it. it is believed that, if a jackal does not make a sumptuous meal off the corpse, the woman will not be blessed with more children. the corpses of the koramas of mysore are buried in a shallow grave, and a pot of water is placed on the mound raised over it. should the spot be visited during the night by a pack of jackals, and the water drunk by them to slake their thirst after feasting on the dead body, the omen is accepted as a proof that the liberated spirit has fled to the realms of the dead, and will never trouble man, woman, child, or cattle. when a person rises in the morning, he should not face or see a cow's head, but should see its hinder parts. this is in consequence of a legend that a cow killed a brahman by goring him with its horns. in some temples, a cow is made to stand in front of the building with its tail towards it, so that any one entering may see its face. it is said that, if a cow voids urine at the time of purchase, it is considered a very good omen, but, if she passes dung, a bad omen. the hill kondhs will not cut the crops with a sickle having a serrated edge, such as is used by the oriyas, but use a straight-edged knife. the crops, after they have been cut, are threshed by hand, and not with the aid of cattle. the serrated sickle is not used, because it produces a sound like that of cattle grazing, which would be unpropitious. if cattle were used in threshing the crop, it is believed that the earth-god would feel insulted by the dung and urine of the animals. a timber merchant at calicut in malabar is said to have spent more than a thousand rupees in propitiating the spirit of a deceased brahman under the following circumstances. he had built a new house, and, on the morning after the kutti puja (house-warming) ceremony, his wife and children were coming to occupy it. just as they were entering the grounds, a cow ran against one of the children, and knocked it down. this augured evil, and, in a few days, the child was attacked by smallpox. one child after another caught the disease, and at last the man's wife also contracted it. they all recovered, but the wife was laid up with some uterine disorder. an astrologer was sent for, and said that the site on which the house was built was once the property of a brahman, whose spirit still haunted it, and must be appeased. expensive ceremonies were performed by brahmans for a fortnight. the house was sold to a brahman priest for a nominal price. a gold image of the deceased brahman was made, and, after the purification ceremonies had been carried out, taken to the sacred shrine at ramesvaram, where arrangements were made to have daily worship performed to it. the house, in its purified state, was sold back by the brahman priest. the merchant's wife travelled by train to madras, to undergo treatment at the maternity hospital. the astrologer predicted that the displeasure of the spirit would be exhibited on the way by the breaking of dishes and by furniture catching fire--a strange prediction, because the bed on which the woman was lying caught fire by a spark from the engine. after the spirit had been thus propitiated, there was peace in the house. it is noted [ ] that, in the middle of the threshold of nearly all the gateways of the ruined fortifications round the bellary villages may be noticed a roughly carved cylindrical or conical stone, something like a lingam. this is the boddu-rayi, literally the navel-stone, and so the middle stone. it was planted there when the fort was first built, and is affectionately regarded as being the boundary of the village site. once a year, in may, just before the sowing season commences, a ceremony takes place in connection with it. reverence is first made to the bullocks of the village, and in the evening they are driven through the gateway past the boddu-rayi, with tom-toms, flutes, and other kinds of music. the barike (village servant) next does puja (worship) to the stone, and then a string of mango leaves is tied across the gateway above it. the villagers now form sides, one party trying to drive the bullocks through the gate, and the other trying to keep them out. the greatest uproar and confusion naturally follow, and, in the midst of the turmoil, some bullock or other eventually breaks through the guardians of the gate, and gains the village. if that first bullock is a red one, the red grains on the red soil will flourish in the coming season. if he is white, white crops, such as cotton and white cholam, will prosper. if he is red and white, both kinds will do well. various oriya castes worship the goddess lakshmi on thursdays, in the month of november, which are called lakshmi varam, or lakshmi's day. the goddess is represented by a basket filled with grain, whereon some place a hair-ball which has been vomited by a cow. the ball is called gaya panghula, and is usually one or two inches in diameter. the owner of a cow which has vomited such a ball, regards it as a propitious augury for the prosperity of his family. a feast is held on the day on which the ball is vomited, and, after the ball has been worshipped, it is carefully wrapped up, and kept in a box, in which it remains till it is required for further worship. some people believe that the ball continues to grow year by year, and regard this as a very good sign. bulls are said not to vomit the balls, and only very few cows do so. "throughout india," mr j. d. e. holmes writes, [ ] "but more especially in the southern presidency, among the native population, the value of a horse or ox principally depends on the existence and situation of certain hair-marks on the body of the animal. these hair-marks are formed by the changes in the direction in which the hair grows at certain places, and, according to their shape, are called a crown, ridge, or feather mark. the relative position of these marks is supposed to indicate that the animal will bring good luck to the owner and his relatives. there is a saying that a man may face a rifle and escape, but he cannot avoid the luck, good or evil, foretold by hair-marks. so much are the people influenced by these omens that they seldom keep an animal with unlucky marks, and would not allow their mares to be covered by a stallion having unpropitious marks." it is recorded by bishop whitehead [ ] that "we went to see the maharaja (of mysore) at his stables, and he showed us his fine stud of horses. among them was the state horse, which is only used for religious ceremonies, and is ridden only by the maharaja himself. it is pure white, without spot or blemish, and has the five lucky marks. this horse came from kathiawar, and is now about twenty years old. the maharaja is trying to get another, to replace it when it dies. but it is not easy to get one with the unusual points required." two deaths occurring in a family in quick succession, were once believed to be the result of keeping an unlucky horse in the stable. i have heard of a eurasian police officer, who attributed the theft of five hundred rupees, his official transfer to an unhealthy district, and other strokes of bad luck, to the purchase of a horse with unlucky curls. all went well after he had got rid of the animal. from a recent note on beliefs about the bull, [ ] i gather that "manu enjoins a grihasta or householder to always travel with beasts which are well broken in, swift, endowed with lucky marks, and perfect in colour and form, without urging them much with the goad. marks are accounted lucky if they appear in certain forms, and at certain spots. one of these marks is usually known as sudi in telugu, and suli in tamil. a sudi is nothing but a whorl or circlet of hair, a properly formed sudi being perfectly round in form, and nearly resembling the sudivalu, the chakrayudha of vishnu, which is a short circular weapon commonly known as the discus of vishnu. every ox should have at least two of these circlets or twists of hair, one on the face, and one on the back, right about its centre. two curls may occur on the face, but they should not be one above the other, in which case they are known as kode mel kode, or umbrella above umbrella. the purchaser of such a bull, it is believed, will soon have some mishap in his house. some, however, hold that this curl is not really so bad as it is supposed to be. if the curls are side by side, they are accounted lucky. in that case they are known as damara suli, or double kettle-drum circlet, from the kettle-drums placed on either side of brahmani bulls in temple processions. it is sometimes known as the kalyana (marriage) suli, because such a kettle-drum is often used in marriage processions. a curl on the hump is held to be a very good one, bringing prosperity to the purchaser. it is known as the kirita suli, or the crown circlet. the dewlaps should have a curl on either side, or none. a curl on only one side is described as not lucky. on the back of the animal, a curl must be perfectly round. if it is elongated, and stretches on one side, it is known as the padai suli, or the bier circlet. kattiri suli, or the scissor circlet, is found usually in the region of the belly, and is an unlucky sign. on the body is sometimes found the puran suli, the circlet named after the centipede from its supposed resemblance to it. on the legs is often found the velangu suli, or chain circlet, from its being like a chain bound round the legs. both these are said to be bad marks, and bulls having them are invariably hard to sell. attempts at erasure of unlucky marks are frequently noticed, for the reason that an animal with a bad mark is scarcely, if ever, sold to advantage. one of the most common and most effective ways of erasing an unlucky mark is to brand it pretty deep, so that the hair disappears, and the curl is no more observable. animals so branded are regarded with considerable suspicion, and it is often difficult to secure purchasers for them." the following are some of the marks on horses and cattle recorded by mr holmes: [ ]-- (a) horses . deobund (having control over evil spirits), also termed devuman or devumani, said by muhammadans to represent the prophet's finger, and by hindus to represent a temple bell. this mark is a ridge, one to three inches long, situated between the throat and counter along the line of the trachea. it is the most lucky mark a horse can possess. it is compared to the sun, and, therefore, when it is present, none of the evil stars can shine, and all unlucky omens are overruled. . khorta-gad (peg-driver), or khila-gad, is a ridge of hair directed downwards on one or both hind-legs. it is said that no horse in the stable will be sold, so long as a horse with this mark is kept. . badi (fetter), a ridge of hair directed upwards on one or both forearms on the outer side, and said to indicate that the owner of the animal will be sent to jail. . thanni (teat). teat-like projections on the sheath of the male are considered unlucky. (b) cattle . bhashicam suli is a crown on the forehead above the line of the eyes, named after the chaplet worn by bride and bridegroom during the marriage ceremony. if the purchaser be a bachelor or widower, this mark indicates that he will marry soon. if the purchaser be a married man, he will either have the misfortune to lose his wife and marry again, or the good fortune to obtain two wives. . mukkanti suli. three crowns on the forehead, arranged in the form of a triangle, said to represent the three eyes of siva, of which the one on the forehead will, if opened, burn up all things within the range of vision. . padai suli. two ridges of hair on the back on either side of the middle line, indicating that the purchaser will soon need a coffin. . tattu suli. a crown situated on the back between the points of the hips, indicating that any business undertaken by the purchaser will fail. . a bullock with numerous spots over the body, like a deer, is considered very lucky. the following quaint omen is recorded by bishop whitehead. [ ] at a certain village, when a pig is sacrificed to the village goddess angalamman, its neck is first cut slightly, and the blood allowed to flow on to some boiled rice placed on a plantain leaf, and then the rice soaked in its own blood is given to the pig to eat. if the pig eats it, the omen is good, if not, the omen is bad; but, in any case, the pig has its head cut off by the pujari (priest). if a brahmani kite (haliastur indus), when flying, is seen carrying something in its beak, the omen is considered very auspicious. the sight of this bird on a sunday morning is also auspicious, so, on this day, people may be seen throwing pieces of mutton or lumps of butter to it. [ ] if an owl takes refuge in a house, the building is at once deserted, the doors are closed, and the house is not occupied for six months, when an expiatory sacrifice must be performed. brahmans are fed, and the house can only be re-entered after the proper hour has been fixed upon. this superstition only refers to a thatched house; a terraced house need not be vacated. [ ] ill-luck will follow, should an owl sit on the housetop, or perch on the bough of a tree near the house. one screech forebodes death; two screeches forebode success in any approaching undertaking; three, the addition of a girl to the family by marriage; four, a disturbance; five, that the hearer will travel. six screeches foretell the coming of guests; seven, mental distress; eight, sudden death; and nine signify favourable results. a species of owl, called pullu, is a highly dreaded bird. it is supposed to cause all kinds of illness to children, resulting in emaciation. at the sound of the screeching, children are taken into a room, to avoid its furtive and injurious gaze. various propitiatory ceremonies are performed by specialists to secure its good-will. amulets are worn by children as a preventive against its evil influences. to warn off the unwelcome intruder, broken pots, painted with black and white dots, are set up on housetops. in the bellary district, the flat roofs of many houses may be seen decked with rags, fluttering from sticks, piles of broken pots, and so forth. these are to scare away owls, which, it is said, sometimes vomit up blood, and sometimes milk. if they sit on a house and bring up blood, it is bad for the inmates; if milk, good. but the risk of the vomit turning out to be blood is apparently more feared than the off chance of its proving to be milk is hoped for, and it is thought best to be on the safe side, and keep the owl at a distance. [ ] the kondhs believe that, if an owl hoots over the roof of a house, or on a tree close thereto, a death will occur in the family at an early date. if the bird hoots close to a village, but outside it, the death of one of the villagers will follow. for this reason, it is pelted with stones, and driven off. the waist-belt of a koraga, whom i saw at udipi in south canara, was made of owl bones. should a crow come near the house, and caw in its usual rapid raucous tones, it means that calamity is impending. but, should the bird indulge in its peculiar prolonged guttural note, happiness will ensue. if a crow keeps on cawing incessantly at a house, it is believed to foretell the coming of a guest. the belief is so strong that some housewives prepare more food than is required for the family. there is also an insect called virunthoo poochee, or guest insect. if crows are seen fighting in front of a house, news of a death will shortly be heard. in some places, if a crow enters a house, it must be vacated for not less than three months, and, before it can be re-occupied, a purification ceremony must be performed, and a number of brahmans fed. among the poorer classes, who are unable to incur this expense, it is not uncommon to allow a house which has been thus polluted to fall into ruins. [ ] in malabar, there is a belief that ill-luck will result if, on certain days, a crow soils one's person or clothes. the evil can only be removed by bathing with the clothes on, and propitiating brahmans. on other days, the omen is a lucky one. on sradh (memorial) days, pindams (balls of cooked rice) are offered to the crows. if they do not touch them, the ceremony is believed not to have been properly performed, and the wishes of the dead man are not satisfied. if the crows, after repeated trials, fail to eat the rice, the celebrant makes up his mind to satisfy these wishes, and the crows are then supposed to relish the balls. on one occasion, my brahman assistant was in camp with me on the palni hills, the higher altitudes of which are uninhabited by crows, and he had perforce to march down to the plains, in order to perform the annual ceremony in memory of his deceased father. on another occasion, a brahman who was staying on the palni hills telegraphed to the village of periakulam for two crows, which duly arrived confined in a cage. the sradh ceremony was performed, and the birds were then set at liberty. on the last day of the death ceremonies of the oddes (navvies), some rice is cooked, and placed on an arka (calotropis gigantea) leaf as an offering to the crows. the arka plant, which grows luxuriantly on waste lands, is, it may be noted, used by brahmans for the propitiation of rishis (sages) and pithrus (ancestors). [ ] for seven days after the death of a paniyan of malabar, a little rice gruel is placed near the grave by the chemmi (priest), who claps his hands as a signal to the evil spirits in the vicinity, who, in the shape of a pair of crows, are supposed to partake of the food, which is hence called kaka conji, or crow's gruel. on the third day after the death of a bedar (canarese cultivator), a woman brings to the graveside some luxuries in the way of food, which is mixed up in a winnowing tray into three portions, and placed in front of three stones set over the head, abdomen, and legs of the deceased, for crows to partake of. on the sixth day after the death of a korava, the chief mourner kills a fowl, and mixes its blood with rice. this he places, with betel leaves and areca nuts, near the grave. if it is carried off by crows, everything is considered to have been settled satisfactorily. when a jungle urali has been excommunicated from his caste, he must kill a sheep or goat before the elders, and mark his forehead with its blood. he then gives a feast to the assembly, and puts part of the food on the roof of his house. if the crows eat it, he is received back into the caste. a native clerk some time ago took leave in anticipation of sanction, on receipt of news of a death in his family at a distant town. his excuse was that his elder brother had, on learning that his son had seen two crows in coitu, sent him a post-card stating that the son was dead. the boy turned out to be alive, but the card, it was explained, was sent owing to a superstitious belief that, if a person sees two crows engaged in sexual congress, he will die unless one of his relations sheds tears. to avert this catastrophe, false news as to the death are sent by post or telegraph, and subsequently corrected by a letter or telegram announcing that the individual is alive. a white (albino) crow, which made its appearance in the city of madras a few years ago, caused considerable interest among the residents of the locality, as it was regarded as a very good omen. among some classes in mysore, there is a belief that, if a death occurs in a house on tuesday or friday, another death will speedily follow unless a fowl is tied to one corner of the bier. the fowl is buried with the corpse. those castes which do not eat fowls replace it by the bolt of the door. [ ] among the tamils, if a burial takes place on a saturday, a fowl must be buried or burnt, or another death will shortly occur in the family. there is a tamil proverb that a saturday corpse will not go alone. when a fowl is sacrificed to the deity by the jungle paliyans of the palni hills, the head ought to be severed at one blow, as this is a sign of the satisfaction of the god for the past, and of protection for the future. should the head still hang, this would be a bad omen, foreboding calamities for the ensuing year. [ ] an interesting rite in connection with pregnancy ceremonies among the oddes (navvies) is the presentation of a fowl or two to the pregnant woman by her maternal uncle. the birds are tended with great care, and, if they lay eggs abundantly, it is a sign that the woman will be prolific. by some it is considered unlucky to keep pigeons about a dwelling-house, as they are believed, on account of their habit of standing on one leg, to lead to poverty. the temple or blue-rock pigeon is greatly venerated by natives, who consider themselves highly favoured if the birds build in their houses. should a death occur in a house where there are tame pigeons, all the birds will, it is said, at the time of the funeral, circle thrice round the loft, and leave the locality for ever. house sparrows are supposed to possess a similar characteristic, but, before quitting the house of mourning, they will pull every straw out of their nests. sparrows are credited with bringing good luck to the house in which they build their nests. for this purpose, when a house is under construction, holes are left in the walls or ceiling, or earthen pots are hung on the walls by means of nails, as an attractive site for nesting. one method of attracting sparrows to a house is to make a noise with rupees as in the act of counting out coins. there are experts who are able to interpret the significance of the chirping of lizards, which, inter alia, foretells the approach of a case of snake-bite, and whether the patient will die or not. the fall of a lizard on different parts of the body is often taken as an omen for good or evil, according as it alights on the right or left side, hand or foot, head or shoulders. a native of cochin foretold from the chirping of a lizard that a robbery would take place at a certain temple. in accordance with the prophecy, the temple jewels were looted, and the prophet was sent to prison under suspicion of being an accomplice of the thieves, but subsequently released. the hook-swinging ceremony is said [ ] to be sometimes performed after the consent of the goddess has been obtained. if a lizard is heard chirping on the right, it is regarded as a sign of her consent. it is believed that the man who is swung suffers no pain if the cause is a good one, but excruciating agony if it is a bad one. if an "iguana" (varanus) enters a house, misfortune is certain to occur within a year, unless the house is shut up for six months. the appearance of a tortoise in a house, or in a field which is being ploughed, is inauspicious. in the cuddapah district, a cultivator applied for remission of rent, because one of his fields had been left waste owing to a tortoise making its appearance in it. if, under these circumstances, the field had been cultivated, the man, his wife, or his cattle, would have died. it was pointed out that, as the tortoise was one of vishnu's incarnations, it should have been considered as an honour that the animal visited the field; but the reply was that a tortoise would be honoured in the water, but not on the land. [ ] the sight of two snakes coiled round each other in sexual congress is considered to portend some great evil. the presence of a rat-snake (zamenis mucosus) in a house at night is believed to bring good fortune to the inmates. its evil influence is in its tail, a blow from which will cause a limb to shrink in size and waste away. in a valley named rapuri kanama in the cuddapah district, there is a pond near a siva temple to gundheswara. those desirous of getting children, wealth, etc., should go there with a pure heart, bathe in the pond, and then worship at the temple. after this, they should take a wild pine-apple leaf, and place it on the border of the pond. if their wishes are to be granted, a crab rises from the water, and bites the leaf in two. if their wishes will not be granted, the crab rises, but leaves the leaf untouched. if, however, the person has not approached the pond with a pure heart, he will be set upon by a swarm of bees, which live in the vicinity, and will be driven off. [ ] if the nest of a clay-building insect is found in a house, the birth of a child is foretold; if a mud nest, of a male child; if a nest made of jungle lac, of a girl. [ ] ii animal superstitions . mammals there is a belief that the urine of a wild monkey (langur) called kondamuccha, which it discharges in a thick stream, possesses the power of curing rheumatic pains, if applied to the affected part with a mixture of garlic. some of the poorer classes in the villages of kurnool obtain a sale even for stones on which this monkey has urinated, and hill people suffering from chronic fever sometimes drink its blood. [ ] i am informed by mr a. ff. martin, that he has seen a muduvar on the travancore hills much pulled down by fever seize an expiring black monkey (semnopithecus johni), and suck the blood from its jugular vein. childless muduvar couples are dieted to make them fruitful, the principal diet for the man being plenty of black monkey. the flesh of the black monkey (nilgiri langur) is sold in the nilgiri bazaars as a cure for whooping-cough. when savara (hill tribe in ganjam) children are seriously ill and emaciated, offerings are said by mr g. v. ramamurthi pantulu to be made to monkeys, not in the belief that the illness is caused by them, but because the sick child, in its wasted condition, has the attenuated figure of these animals. the offerings consist of rice and other articles of food, which are placed in baskets suspended from branches of trees in the jungle. some years ago, a drinking fountain was erected at the madras museum, in which the water issued from the mouth of a lion. it entirely failed in its object, as the native visitors would not use it, because the animal was represented in the act of vomiting. i am informed by mr c. hayavadana rao that the beparis, who are traders and carriers between the hills and plains in the vizagapatam agency tracts, regard themselves as immune from the attacks of tigers, if they take certain precautions. most of them have to pass through places infested with these beasts, and their favourite method of keeping them off is as follows. as soon as they encamp at a place, they level a square bit of ground, and light fires in it, round which they pass the night. it is their firm belief that the tiger will not enter the square, from fear lest it should become blind, and eventually be shot. mr hayavadana rao was once travelling towards malkangiri from jeypore, when he fell in with a party of beparis thus encamped. at that time the villages about malkangiri were being ravaged by a notorious man-eater. in connection with man-eating tigers, mr s. m. fraser narrates [ ] that, in mysore, a man-eater was said to have attacked parties bearing corpses to the burning-ground. "the acquisition," he writes, "of such a curious taste may perhaps be explained by the following passage in a letter from the amildar. it is a custom among the villagers here not to burn or bury the dead bodies of pregnant females, but to expose them in the neighbouring jungles to be eaten by vultures and wild beasts. the body is tied to a tree, in a sitting posture, and a pot of water is put close by. not long ago some cowherd boys came across the dead body of a woman tied to a tree, and noticed the foot-prints of a tiger round it, but the body was untouched. the boys cut the rope binding the body, which fell to the ground, and the next day the corpse was found eaten away by the tiger." the village of hulikal, or tiger's stone, on the nilgiris is so called because in it a badaga once killed a notorious man-eater. the spot where the beast was buried is shown near the pillaiyar (ganesa) temple, and is marked by three stones. it is said that there was formerly a stone image of the slain tiger thereabouts. [ ] when a tiger enters the dwelling of a savara (hill tribe in ganjam) and carries off an inmate, the village is said to be deserted, and sacrifices are offered to some spirits by the inhabitants. it is noted by mr f. fawcett [ ] that the savaras have names for numerals up to twelve only. this is accounted for by a story that, long ago, some savaras were measuring grain in a field, and, when they had completed twelve measures, a tiger pounced on them, and devoured them. so, ever after, they have not dared to have a numeral above twelve for fear of a tiger repeating the performance. in the vizagapatam district, a ballad is sung by the dasaris (a mendicant caste) about the goddess yerakamma, who is reputed to have been the child of dasari parents, and to have had the possession of second sight foretold by a yerukala fortune-teller. she eventually married, and one day begged her husband not to go to his field, as she was sure he would be killed by a tiger if he did. he went notwithstanding, and was slain as she had foreseen. she killed herself by committing sati (suttee, or burning of the living widow) on the spot where her shrine still stands. the muduvars are said by mr martin to share with other jungle folk the belief that, if any animal is killed by a tiger or leopard so as to lie north and south, it will not be eaten by the beast of prey. nor will it be revisited, so that sitting over a "kill" which has fallen north and south, in the hope of getting a shot at the returning tiger or leopard, is a useless proceeding. the billava toddy-drawers believe that, if the spathe of the palm tree is beaten with the bone of a buffalo which has been killed by a tiger, the yield of toddy will, if the bone has not touched the ground, be greater than if an ordinary bone is used. i once received an application for half a pound of tiger's fat, presumably for medicinal purposes. the bones of tigers and leopards ground into powder, and mixed with their fat, gingelly (sesamum) oil, and a finely powdered blue stone, make an ointment for the cure of syphilitic sores. the bones of a leopard or hyæna, ground into powder and made into a paste with ox-gall and musk, are said to be a useful ointment for application to rheumatic joints. the addition of the fat of tigers or leopards makes the ointment more effective. i am told that when, on one occasion, a european shot a tiger, the natives were so keen on securing some of the fat, that the shikaris (hunters) came to him to decide as to the proper distribution among themselves and the camp servants. the leopard is looked upon as in some way sacred by the hill kondhs. they object to a dead leopard being carried through their villages, and oaths are taken on a leopard's skin. writing in , dr francis day states [ ] that "at cannanore (in malabar), the rajah's cat appears to be exercising a deleterious influence on one branch at least of the fishing, viz., that for sharks. it appears that, in olden times, one fish daily was taken from each boat as a perquisite for the rajah's cat, or the poocha meen (cat-fish) collection. the cats apparently have not augmented so much as the fishing boats, so this has been converted into a money payment of two pies a day on each successful boat." in connection with cats, there is a tradition that a jogi (telugu mendicant) bridegroom, before tying the bottu (marriage badge) on his bride's neck, had to tie it by means of a string dyed with turmeric round the neck of a female cat. people sometimes object to the catching of cats by jogis for food, as the detachment of a single hair from the body of a cat is considered a heinous offence. to overcome the objection, the jogi says that he wants the animal for a marriage ceremony. on one occasion, i saw a madiga (telugu pariah) carrying home a bag full of kittens, which he said he was going to eat. some time ago, some prisoners, who called themselves billaikavus (cat-eaters), were confined in the vizagapatam jail. i am informed that these people are mala paidis, who eat cat flesh. the gun with which a wolf has been shot falls under some evil influence, and it is said not to shoot straight afterwards. hence some shikaris (hunters) will not shoot at a wolf. the hyæna is believed to beat to death, or strangle with its tail, those whom it seizes. the head of a hyæna is sometimes buried in cattle-sheds, to prevent cattle disease. its incisor teeth are tied round the loins of a woman in labour, to lessen the pains. [ ] there is a belief that, when a bear seizes a man, it tickles him to death. [ ] bears are supposed, owing to the multilobulated external appearance of the kidneys, to gain an additional pair of these organs every year of their life. they are believed to collect ripe wood-apples (feronia elephantum) during the season, and store them in a secure place in the forest. after a large quantity has been collected, they remove the rind, and heap together all the pulp. they then bring honey and the petals of sweet-smelling flowers, put them on the heap of pulp, thresh them with their feet and sticks in their hands, and, when the whole has become a consistent mass, feast on it. the vedans (hunters) watch them when so engaged, drive them off, and rob them of their feast, which they carry off, and sell as karadi panchamritham, or bear delicacy made of five ingredients. the ordinary ingredients of panchamritham are slices of plantain (banana) fruits, jaggery (crude sugar) or sugar, cocoanut scrapings, ghi (clarified butter), honey, and cardamom seeds. it is believed that the flesh or blood of some animals, which have certain organs largely developed, will cure disease of corresponding organs in the human subject. thus, the flesh of the jackal, which is credited with the possession of very powerful lungs, is said to be a remedy for asthma. by the jungle paliyans of the palni hills, the following device is adopted to protect themselves from the attacks of wild animals, the leopard in particular. four jackals' tails are planted in four different spots, chosen so as to include the area in which they wish to be safe from the brute. even if a leopard entered the magic square, it could do the paliyan no harm, as its mouth is locked. [ ] there is a belief that the urine of wild dogs (cyon dukhunensis) is extremely acrid, and that they sprinkle with it the bushes through which they drive their prey (deer and wild pigs), and then rush upon the latter, when blinded by the pungent fluid. according to another version, they jerk the urine into their victim's eyes with their tails. the koyis of the godavari district are said by the rev. j. cain [ ] to hold in reverence the pandava brothers, arjuna and bhima, and claim descent from the latter by his marriage with a wild woman of the woods. the wild dogs or dhols are regarded as the dutas or messengers of the brothers, and they would on no account kill a dhol, even though it should attack their favourite calf. they even regard it as imprudent to interfere with these dutas, when they wish to feast upon their cattle. the long black beetles, which appear in large numbers at the beginning of the hot weather, are called by the koyis the pandava flock of goats. at a sale of cattle, the vendor sometimes takes a small quantity of straw in his hand, and, putting some cow-dung on it, presents it to the purchaser. [ ] the five products of the cow, known as panchagavyam--milk, curds, butter, urine, and fæces--are taken by hindus to remove pollution from confinement, a voyage across the seas, and other causes. it is on record [ ] that the tanjore nayakar, having betrayed madura and suffered for it, was told by his brahman advisers that he had better be born again. so a colossal cow was cast in bronze, and the nayakar shut up inside. the wife of his brahman guru (religious preceptor) received him in her arms, rocked him on her knees, and caressed him on her breast, and he tried to cry like a baby. it is recorded by frazer [ ] that, when a hindu child's horoscope portends misfortune or crime, he is born again from a cow thus. being dressed in scarlet, and tied on a new sieve, he is passed between the hind-legs of a cow forward through the fore-legs, and again in the reverse direction, to simulate birth. the ordinary birth ceremonies are then gone through, and the father smells his son as a cow smells her calf. tradition runs to the effect that, at the time of the separation of ramesvaram island from the mainland, the cows became prisoners thereon. not being able, like the cows of cape cod, which are fed on herrings' heads, to adapt themselves to a fish diet, they became gradually converted into diminutive metamorphosed cows, which may still be seen grazing on the shore. the legend is based on the fancied resemblance of the horned coffer-fishes (ostracion cornutus), which are frequently caught by the fishermen, to cattle. portions of the skulls of cats and dogs, which are sometimes picked up on the beach, also bear a rude resemblance to the skull of a cow, the horns being represented by the zygoma. a story is told at cochin that the beautiful blue and white tiles from canton, which adorn the floor of the synagogue of the white jews, were originally intended for the durbar hall of a former raja of cochin. but a wily jew declared that bullock's blood must have been used in the preparation of the glaze, and offered to take them off the hands of the raja, who was only too glad to get rid of them. the afterbirths (placentæ) of cattle are tied to a tree which yields a milky juice, in the belief that the cow will thereby give a better yield of milk. there is a custom among the tellis (oriya oil-pressers) that, if a cow dies with a rope round its neck, or on the spot where it is tethered, the family is under pollution until purification has been effected by means of a pilgrimage, or by bathing in a sacred river. the holodia section of the tellis will not rear male calves, and do not castrate their bulls. male calves are disposed of by sale as speedily as possible. if the jungle paliyans of tinnevelly come across the carcase of a cow or buffalo near a stream, they will not go near it for a long time. they absolutely refuse to touch leather, and one of them declined to carry my camera box, because he detected that it had a leather strap. the bakudas of south canara will not carry a bedstead, unless the legs are first taken off, and it is said that this objection rests upon the supposed resemblances between the four-legged cot and the four-legged ox. in like manner, the koragas have a curious prejudice against carrying any four-legged animal, dead or alive. this extends to anything with four legs, such as a chair, table, etc., which they cannot be prevailed on to lift, unless one leg is removed. as they work as coolies, this is said sometimes to cause inconvenience. [ ] among the sembaliguda gadabas of vizagapatam, there is a belief that a piece of wild buffalo horn, buried in the ground of the village, will avert or cure cattle disease. [ ] the jungle kadirs believe that their gods occasionally reside in the body of a "bison" (bos gaurus), and have been known to worship a bull shot by a sportsman. the goddess gangadevi is worshipped by the kevutos (fishing caste) of ganjam at the dasara festival, and goats are sacrificed in her honour. in the neighbourhood of the chilka lake, the goats are not sacrificed, but set at liberty, and allowed to graze on the kalikadevi hill. there is a belief that animals thus dedicated to the goddess do not putrify when they die, but dry up. the tiyans (toddy-drawers) of malabar carry, tucked into the waist-cloth, a bone loaded with lead at both ends, which is used for tapping the flower-stalk of the palm tree to bring out the juice. a man once refused to sell one of these bones to mr f. fawcett at any price, as it was the femur of a sambar (cervus unicolor), which possessed such virtue that it would fetch juice out of any tree. deer's horn, ground into a fine paste, is said to be an excellent balm for pains and swellings. it is sometimes made into a powder, which is mixed with milk or honey, and produces a potion which is supposed to aid the growth of stunted women. [ ] a yanadi shikari (hunter) has been known, when skinning a black buck (antelope) shot by a european, to cut out the testicles, and wrap them up in his loin-cloth, to be subsequently taken as an aphrodisiac. antelope horn, when powdered and burnt, is said to drive away mosquitoes, and keep scorpions away. a paste made with antelope horn is used as an external application for sore throat. antelope and chinkara (indian gazelle) horns, if kept in grain baskets, are said to prevent weevils from attacking the grain. the gadabas of vizagapatam will not touch a horse, as they are palanquin-bearers, and have the same objection to the rival animal that a cab-driver has to a motor-car. in south canara, none but the lowest pariah will rub a horse down. if a malai vellala of coimbatore touches one of these animals, he has to perform a religious ceremonial for the purpose of purification. the members of the elephant sept of the oriya haddis, when they see the foot-prints of an elephant, take some of the dust from the spot, and make a mark on the forehead with it. they also draw the figure of an elephant, and worship it, when they perform sradh and other ceremonies. wild elephants are said to be held in veneration by the jungle kadirs, whereas tame ones are believed to have lost the divine element. [ ] when cholera breaks out in a kondh village, all males and females smear their bodies from head to foot with pig's fat liquefied by heat, and continue to do so until a few days after the disappearance of the dread disease. during this time they do not bathe, lest the smell of the fat should be washed away. some women rub the blood of the small garden-bat, which has well-developed ears, into the artificially dilated lobes of their ears, so as to strengthen them. the wings of bats are highly prized as a hairwash. they are crushed, and mixed with cocoanut oil, and other ingredients. the mixture is kept underground in a closed vessel for three months, and then used to prevent the hair from falling out or turning grey. [ ] the paniyans of malabar are said to eat land-crabs for a similar purpose. the common striped or palm-squirrel (sciurus palmarum) was, according to a legend, employed by rama to assist the army of monkeys in the construction of the bridge to connect ramesvaram island with ceylon, whither ravana had carried off his wife sita. the squirrel helped the monkeys by rolling in the sand on the shore, so as to collect it in its hairy coat, and then depositing it between the piled up stones, so as to cement them together. seeing it fatigued by its labours, rama sympathetically stroked its back with the three middle fingers of his right hand, marks of which still persist in the squirrels at the present day. there is a further legend that, once upon a time, one of the gods, having compassion on the toddy-drawers because their life was a hard one, and because they were constantly exposed to danger, left at the foot of a palmyra tree some charmed water, the value of which was that it saved from injury any one falling from a height. a toddy-drawer, however, got drunk, and, forgetting to drink the elixir, went home. when he returned, he found that a squirrel had drunk it, and vowed vengeance on it. and that is why every toddy-drawer will always kill a squirrel, and also why the squirrel, from whatever height it may fall, comes to no harm. [ ] in a note on the pariah caste in travancore, the rev. s. mateer narrates [ ] a legend that the shanans (tamil toddy-drawers) are descended from adi, the daughter of a pariah woman at karuvur, who taught them to climb the palm tree, and prepared a medicine which would protect them from falling from the high trees. the squirrels also ate some of it, and enjoy a similar immunity. there is a tamil proverb that, if you desire to climb trees, you must be a shanan. the story was told by bishop caldwell of a shanan who was sitting upon a leaf-stalk at the top of a palmyra palm in a high wind, when the stalk gave way, and he came down to the ground quite safely, sitting on the leaf, which served the purpose of a natural parachute. woodpeckers are called shanara kurivi by bird-catchers, because they climb trees like shanans. there is a legend that, before the kaliyuga began, the pandavas lived on the nilgiris. a kind of edible truffle (mylitta lapidescens) is known as little man's bread on these hills. the badaga legendary name for it is pandva-unna-buthi, or dwarf bundle of food, [ ] i.e., food of the dwarfs, who are supposed to have built the pandu kulis or kistvaens. being so small, they called in the black-naped hare (lepus nigricollis) to plough their fields. the black patches on their necks are the inherited mark of the yoke. the blood of the hare is administered to children suffering from cough. bramans use a porcupine quill for parting their wives' hair in a ceremony connected with the period of gestation known as simantam. it is said [ ] that among the nambutiri brahmans, the quill should have three white marks on it. the quills of porcupines are sold by jogis (telugu mendicants) to goldsmiths, for use as brushes. there is a tradition among the fishing folk of ramesvaram island that a box of money was once found in the stomach of a dugong (halicore dugong), and an official is consequently invited to be present at the examination of the stomach contents, so that the possessors of the carcase may not be punished under the treasure trove act for concealing treasure. the fat of the dugong is believed to be efficacious in the treatment of dysentery, and is administered in the form of sweetmeats, or used instead of ghi (clarified butter) in the preparation of food. . birds the following story is current concerning the sacred vultures of tirukazhukunram. the ashtavasus, or eight gods who guard the eight points of the compass, did penance, and siva appeared in person before them. but, becoming angry with them, he cursed them, and turned them into vultures. when they asked for forgiveness, siva directed that they should remain at the temple of vedagiri iswara. one pair of these birds still survives, and come to the temple daily at noon for food. two balls of rice cooked with ghi (clarified butter) and sugar, which have been previously offered to the deity, are placed at a particular spot on the hill. the vultures, arriving simultaneously, appropriate a ball apiece. the temple priests say that, every day, one of the birds goes on a pilgrimage to benares, and the other to ramesvaram. it is also said that the pair will never come together, if sinners are present at the temple. when a person is ill, his family sometimes make a vow that they will ofter a few pounds of mutton to the braahmani kite (haliastur indus, garuda pakshi) on the patient's recovery. it is believed that, should the offering be acceptable, the sick person will speedily get better, and the bird will come to demand its meat, making its presence known by sitting on a tree near the house, and crying plaintively. the shadow of a braahmani kite falling on a cobra is said to stupefy the snake. the kondhs do not consider it a sin to kill this bird, which is held in veneration throughout southern india. a kondh will kill it for so slight an offence as carrying off his chickens. the crow is believed to possess only one eye, which moves from socket to socket as occasion demands. the belief is founded on the legend that an asura, disguised as a crow, while rama was sleeping with his head on sita's lap in the jungles of dandaka, pecked at her breasts, so that blood issued therefrom. on waking, rama, observing the blood, and learning the cause of it, clipped a bit of straw, and, after infusing it with the brahma astra (miraculous weapon), let it go against the crow asura, who appealed to rama for mercy. taking pity on it, rama told the asura to offer one of its eyes to the weapon, and saved it from death. since that time, crows are supposed to have only one eye. the kondhs will not kill crows, as this would be a sin amounting to the killing of a friend. according to their legend, soon after the creation of the world, there was a family consisting of an aged man and woman, and four children, who died one after the other in quick succession. their parents were too infirm to take the necessary steps for their cremation, so they threw the bodies away on the ground at some distance from their home. god appeared to them in their dreams one night, and promised that he would create the crow, so that it might devour the dead bodies. some koyis believe that hell is the abode of an iron crow, which feeds on all who go there. there is a legend in the kavarathi island of the laccadives, that a mappilla tangal (muhammadan priest) once cursed the crows for dropping their excrement on his person, and now there is not a crow on the island. it is believed that, if a young crow-pheasant is tied by an iron chain to a tree, the mother, as soon as she discovers the captive, will go and fetch a certain root, and by its aid break the chain, which, when it snaps, is converted into gold. in some kapu (telugu cultivator) houses, bundles of ears of rice may be seen hung up as food for sparrows, which are held in esteem. the hopping of sparrows is said to resemble the gait of a person confined in fetters, and there is a legend that the kapus were once in chains, and the sparrows set them at liberty, and took the bondage on themselves. native physicians prescribe the flesh and bones of cock sparrows for those who have lost their virility. the birds are cleaned, and put in a mortar, together with other medicinal ingredients. they are pounded together for several hours, so that the artificial heat produced by the operation converts the mixture into a pulpy mass, which is taken in small doses. the flesh of quails and partridges is also believed to possess remedial properties. a west coast housewife, when she buys a fowl, goes through a mystic ritual to prevent it from getting lost. she takes it thrice round the fireplace, saying to it: "roam over the country and the forest, and come home safe again." some years ago, a rumour spread through the koyi villages that an iron cock was abroad very early in the morning, and upon the first village in which it heard one or more cocks crow it would send a pestilence, and decimate the village. in one instance, at least, this led to the immediate extermination of all the cocks in the village. the indian roller (coracias indica), commonly called the blue jay, is known as pala-pitta or milk bird, because it is supposed that, when a cow gives little milk, the yield will be increased if a few of the feathers of this bird are chopped up, and given to it along with grass. the fat of the peacock, which moves gracefully and easily, is supposed to cure stiff joints. peacock's feathers are sold in the bazaar, and the burnt ashes are used as a cure for vomiting. the deposit of white magnesite in the "chalk hills" of the salem district is believed to consist of the bones of the mythical bird jatayu, which fought ravana, to rescue sita from his clutches. . reptiles and batrachians. it is recorded by canter visscher [ ] that, "in the mountains and remote jungles of this country (malabar), there is a species of snake of the shape and thickness of the stem of a tree, which can swallow men and beasts entire. i have been told an amusing story about one of these snakes. it is said that at barcelore a chego (chogan) had climbed up a cocoanut tree to draw toddy or palm wine, and, as he was coming down, both his legs were seized by a snake which had stretched itself up alongside the tree with its mouth wide open, and was sucking him in gradually as he descended. now, the indian, according to the custom of his country, had stuck his teifermes (an instrument not unlike a pruning knife), into his girdle with the curve turned outwards; and, when he was more than half swallowed, the knife began to rip up the body of the snake so as to make an opening, by which the lucky man was most unexpectedly able to escape. though the snakes in this country are so noxious to the natives, yet the ancient veneration for them is still maintained. no one dares to injure them or to drive them away by violence, and so audacious do they become that they will sometimes creep between people's legs when they are eating, and attack their bowls of rice, in which case retreat is necessary until the monsters have satiated themselves, and taken their departure." another snake story, worthy of the baron münchausen, is recorded in taylor's "catalogue raisonné of oriental manuscripts." [ ] "the coya (koyi) people eat snakes. about forty years since a brahman saw a person cooking snakes for food, and, expressing great astonishment, was told by the forester that these were mere worms; that, if he wished to see a serpent, one should be shown him; but that, as for themselves, secured by the potent charms taught them by ambikesvarer, they feared no serpents. as the brahman desired to see this large serpent, a child was sent with a bundle of straw and a winnowing fan, who went, accompanied by the brahman, into the depths of the forest, and, putting the straw on the mouth of a hole, commenced winnowing, when smoke of continually varying colours arose, followed by bright flame, in the midst of which a monstrous serpent having seven heads was seen. the brahman was speechless with terror at the sight, and, being conducted back by the child, was dismissed with presents of fruits." it is stated by mr gopal panikkar [ ] that, "people believe in the existence inside the earth of a precious stone called manikkakkallu. these stones are supposed to have been made out of the gold, which has existed in many parts of the earth from time immemorial. certain serpents of divine nature have been blowing for ages on these treasures of gold, some of which dwindle into a small stone of resplendent beauty and brightness called manikkam. the moment their work is finished, the serpents are transformed into winged serpents, and fly up into the air with the stones in their mouths." according to another version of this legend, [ ] "people in malabar believe that snakes guard treasure. but silver they will have none. even in the case of gold, the snakes are said to visit hidden treasure for twelve years occasionally, and, only when they find that the treasure is not removed in the meantime, do they begin to guard it. when once it has begun to watch, the snake is said to be very zealous over it. it is said to hiss at it day and night. this constant application is believed to diminish its proportions, and to make it assume a smaller appearance. in time, in the place of the pointed tail, the reptile is said to get wings, and the treasure, by the continuous hissing, to assume the form of a precious stone. when this is done, the snake is said to fly with its precious acquisition. so strong is this belief that, when a comet appeared some ten years ago, people firmly believed that it was the flight of the winged serpent with the precious stone." natives, when seeking for treasure, arm themselves with a staff made from one of the snake-wood trees, in the belief that the snakes which guard the treasure will retire before it. in malabar, it is believed that snakes wed mortal girls, and fall in love with women. when once they do so, they are said to be constantly pursuing them, and never to leave them, except for an occasional separation for food. the snake is said never to use its fangs against its chosen woman. so strong is the belief, that women in malabar would think twice before attempting to go by themselves into a bush. [ ] there is a temple in ganjam, the idol in which is said to be protected from desecration at night by a cobra. when the doors are being shut, the snake glides in, and coils itself round the lingam. early in the morning, when the priest opens the door, it glides away, without attempting to harm any of the large number of spectators, who never fail to assemble. [ ] the town of nagercoil in travancore derives its name from the temple dedicated to the snake-god (naga kovil), where many stone images of snakes are deposited. there is a belief that snake-bite is not fatal within a mile of the temple. the safety with which snake-charmers handle cobras is said to be due to the removal of a stone, which supplied their teeth with venom, from under the tongue or behind the hood. this stone is highly prized as a snake poison antidote. it is said to be not unlike a tamarind stone in size, shape, and appearance; and is known to be genuine if, when it is immersed in water, bubbles continue to rise from it, or if, when put into the mouth, it gives a leap, and fixes itself to the palate. when it is applied to the punctures made by the snake's poison fangs, it is said to stick fast and extract the poison, falling off of itself as soon as it is saturated. after the stone drops off, the poison which it has absorbed is removed by placing it in a vessel of milk which becomes darkened in colour. a specimen was submitted to faraday, who expressed his belief that it was a piece of charred bone, which had been filled with blood, and then charred again. [ ] there is, in malabar, a class of people called mantravadis (dealers in magical spells), who are believed to possess an hereditary power of removing the effects of snake poison by repeating mantrams, and performing certain rites. if a house is visited by snakes, they can expel them by reciting such mantrams on three small pebbles, and throwing them on to the roof. in cases of snake-bite, they recite mantrams and wave a cock over the patient's body from the head towards the feet. sometimes a number of cocks have to be sacrificed before the charm works. the patient is then taken to a tank (pond) or well, and a number of pots of water are emptied over his head, while the mantravadi utters mantrams. there are said to be certain revengeful snakes, which, after they have bitten a person, coil themselves round the branches of a tree, and render the efforts of the mantravadi ineffective. in such a case, he, through the aid of mantrams, sends ants and other insects to harass the snake, which comes down from the tree, and sucks the poison from the punctures which it has made. in the early part of the last century, a certain tanjore pill had a reputation as a specific against the bite of mad dogs, and of the most poisonous snakes. [ ] the following note on a reputed cure for snake poisoning, used by the oddes (navvies), was communicated to me by mr gustav haller. "a young boy, who belonged to a gang of oddes, was catching rats, and put his hand into a bamboo bush, when a cobra bit him, and clung to his finger when he was drawing his hand out of the bush. i saw the dead snake, which was undoubtedly a cobra. i was told that the boy was in a dying condition, when a man of the same gang said that he would cure him. he applied a brown pill to the wound, to which it stuck without being tied. the man dipped a root into the water, and rubbed it on the lad's arm from the shoulder downwards. the arm, which was benumbed, gradually became sensitive, and at last the fingers could move, and the pill dropped off. the moist root was rubbed on to the boy's tongue, and into the corner of the eyes, before commencing operations. the man said that a used pill is quite efficacious, but should be well washed to get rid of the poison. in the manufacture of the pills, five leaves of a creeper are dried, and ground to powder. the pill must be inserted for nine days between the bark and cambium of a margosa tree (melia azadirachta) during the new moon, when the sap ascends." the creeper referred to is tinospora cordifolia (gul bel), and the roots are apparently those of the same climbing shrub. there is a widespread belief that gul bel growing on a margosa tree is more efficacious as a medicine than that which is found on other kinds of trees. in cases of snake-bite, the dommara snake-charmers place over the seat of the bite a black stone, which is said to be composed of various drugs mixed together and burnt. it is said to drop off, as soon as it has absorbed all the poison. it is then put into milk or water to extract the poison, and the fluid is thrown away as being dangerous to life if swallowed. the mandulas (wandering medicine men) use as an antidote against snake-bite a peculiar wood, of which a piece is torn off, and eaten by the person bitten. [ ] among the viramushtis (professional mendicants), there is a subdivision called naga mallika (rhinacanthus communis), the roots of which are believed to cure snake-bite. the jungle paliyans of the palni hills are said [ ] to carry with them certain leaves, called naru valli ver, which they believe to be a very efficient antidote to snake-bite. as soon as one of them is bitten, he chews the leaves, and also applies them to the punctures. the kudumi medicine men of travancore claim to be able to cure snake-bite by the application of certain leaves ground into a paste, and by exercising their magical powers. the telugu tottiyans are noted for their power of curing snake-bites by means of mystical incantations, and the original inventor of this mode of treatment has been deified under the name of pambalamman. the jungle yanadis are fearless in catching cobras, which they draw out of their holes without any fear of their fangs. they claim to be under the protection of a charm, while so doing. a correspondent writes that a cobra was in his grounds, and his servant called in a yanadi to dislodge it. the man caught it alive, and, before killing it, carefully removed the poison-sac with a knife, and swallowed it as a protection against snake-bite. the nayadis of malabar, when engaged in catching rats in their holes, wear round the wrist a snake-shaped metal ring, to render them safe against snakes which may be concealed in the hole. a treatment for cobra-bite is to take a chicken, and make a deep incision into the beak at the basal end. the cut surface is applied to the puncture made by the snake's fangs, which are opened up with a knife. after a time the chicken dies, and, if the patient has not come round, more chicken must be applied until he is out of danger. the theory is that the poison is attracted by the blood of the chicken, and enters it. the following treatment for cobra bite is said [ ] to be in vogue in some places:-- "as soon as a person has been bitten, a snake-charmer is sent for, who allures the same or another cobra whose fangs have not been drawn to the vicinity of the victim, and causes it to bite him at as nearly as possible the same place as before. should this be fulfilled, the bitten man will as surely recover as the snake will die. it is believed that, if a person should come across two cobras together, they will give him no quarter. to avoid being pursued by them, he takes to his heels, after throwing behind some garment, on which the snakes expend their wrath. when they have completed the work of destruction, the pieces to which the cloth has been reduced, are gathered together, and preserved as a panacea for future ills." a fisherman, who is in doubt as to whether a water-snake which has bitten him is poisonous or not, sometimes has resort to a simple remedy. he dips his hands into the mud, and eats several handfuls thereof. [ ] the fragrant inflorescence of pandanus fascicularis is believed to harbour a tiny snake, which is more deadly than the cobra. incautious smelling of the flowers may, it is said, lead to death. the earth-snake (typhlops braminus) is known as the ear-snake, because it is supposed to enter the ear of a sleeper, and cause certain death. the harmless tree-snake (dendrophis pictus) is more dreaded than the cobra. it is believed that, after biting a human being, it ascends the nearest palmyra palm, where it waits until it sees the smoke ascending from the funeral pyre of the victim. the only chance of saving the life of a person who has been bitten is to have a mock funeral, whereat a straw effigy is burnt. seeing the smoke, the deluded snake comes down from the tree, and the bitten person recovers. the green tree-snake (dryophis mycterizans) is said to have a habit of striking at the eyes of people, to prevent which a rag is tied round the head of the snake, when it is caught. another, and more curious belief is that a magical oil can be prepared from its dead body. a tender cocoanut is opened at one end, and the body of the snake is put into the cocoanut, which, after being closed, is buried in a miry place, and allowed to remain there until the body decays, and the water in the cocoanut becomes saturated with the products of decomposition. when this has taken place, the water is taken out, and used as oil for a lamp. when a person carries such a lamp lighted, his body will appear to be covered all over by running green tree-snakes, to the great dismay of all beholders. [ ] for the following note on beliefs concerning the green tree-snake (dryophis), i am indebted to dr n. annandale. a recipe for making a good curry, used by women who are bad cooks, is to take a tree-snake, and draw it through the hands before beginning to make the curry. to cure a headache, kill a tree-snake, and ram cotton seed and castor-oil down its throat, until the whole body is full. then bury it, and allow the seeds to grow. take the seeds of the plants that spring up, and separate the cotton from the castor seeds. ram them down the throat of a second snake. repeat the process on a third snake, and make a wick from the cotton of the plant that grows out of its body, and oil from the castor plants. if you light the wick in a lamp filled with the oil, and take it outside at night, you will see the whole place alive with green tree-snakes. another way of performing the same experiment is to bore a hole in a ripe cocoanut, put in a live tree-snake, and stop the hole up. then place the cocoanut beneath a cow in a cowshed for forty days, so that it is exposed to the action of the cow's urine. a lamp fed with oil made from the cocoanut will enable you to see innumerable tree-snakes at night. the bite of the sand-snake (eryx johnii) is believed to cause leprosy and twisting of the hands and feet. an earth-snake, which lives at kodaikanal on the palni hills, is credited with giving leprosy to any one whose skin it licks. in the treatment of leprosy, a russell's viper (vipera russellii) is stuffed with rice, and put in an earthen pot, the mouth of which is sealed with clay. the pot is buried for forty days, and then exhumed. chickens are fed with the rice, and the patient is subsequently fed on the chickens. the fat of the rat-snake (zamenis mucosus) is used as an external application in the treatment of leprosy. an old woman, during an epidemic of cholera at bezwada, used to inject the patients hypodermically with an aqueous solution of cobra venom. mischievous children, and others, when they see two persons quarrelling, rub the nails of the fingers of one hand against those of the other, and repeat the words "mungoose and snake, bite, bite," in the hope that thereby the quarrel will be intensified, and grow more exciting from the spectator's point of view. when a friend was engaged in experiments on snake venom, some dommaras (jugglers) asked for permission to unbury the corpses of the snakes and mungooses for the purpose of food. if a snake becomes entangled in the net of a bestha fisherman in mysore when it is first used, the net is rejected, and burnt or otherwise disposed of. there is a widespread belief among children in malabar, that a lizard (calotes versicolor) sucks the blood of those whom it looks at. as soon, therefore, as they catch sight of this creature, they apply saliva to the navel, from which it is believed that the blood is extracted. a legend is recorded by dr annandale, [ ] in accordance with which every good muhammadan should kill the blood-sucker (lizard), calotes gigas, at sight, because, when some fugitive muhammadans were hiding from their enemies in a well, one of these animals came and nodded its head in their direction till their enemies saw them. a similar legend about another lizard is described as existing in egypt. dr annandale further records that the hindus and muhammadans of ramnad in the ramnad district regard the chamæleon (chamæleon calcaratus) as being possessed by an evil spirit, and will not touch it, lest the spirit should enter their own bodies. i have been told that the bite of a chamæleon is more deadly than that of a cobra. there is a popular belief that the bite of the brahmini lizard (mabuia carinata), called aranai in tamil, is poisonous, and there is a saying that death is instantaneous if aranai bites. the same belief exists in ceylon, and mr arthur willey informs me that deaths attributed to the bite of this animal are recorded almost annually in the official vital statistics. i have never heard of a case of poisoning by the animal in question. there is a legend that, "when the cobra and the arana were created, poison was supplied to them, to be sucked from a leaf. the arana sucked it wholesale, leaving only the leaf smeared over with poison for the cobra to lap poison from; thereby implying that the cobra is far less venomous than the arana. thus people greatly exaggerate the venomous character of the arana." [ ] it has already been noted (p. ) that, when savara children are emaciated from illness, offerings are made to monkeys. blood-suckers are also said to be propitiated, because they have filamentous bodies. a blood-sucker is captured, small toy arrows are tied round its body, and a piece of cloth is tied round its head. some drops of liquor are then poured into its mouth, and it is set at liberty. the maratha rajas of sandur belong to a family called ghorpade, which name is said to have been earned by one of them scaling a precipitous fort by clinging to an "iguana" (varanus), which was crawling up it. the flesh of the "iguana" is supposed to be possessed of extraordinary invigorating powers, and a meal off this animal is certain to restore the powers of youth. its bite is considered very dangerous, and it is said that, when it has once closed its teeth on human flesh, it will not reopen them, and the only remedy is to cut out the piece it has bitten. [ ] this animal and the crocodile are believed to proceed from the eggs laid by one animal. they are laid and hatched near water, and, of the animals which come out of them, some find their way into the water, while others remain on land. the former become crocodiles, and the latter "iguanas." the flesh of the crocodile is administered as a cure for whooping-cough. it is popularly believed that, if a toad falls on a pregnant woman, the child that is to be born will die soon after birth. the only remedy is to capture the offending toad, and fry it in some medicinal oil, which must be administered to the child in order to save it from death. [ ] . fishes it is recorded [ ] that "matsya gundam (fish pool) is a curious pool in the macheru (fish river) near the village of matam, close under the great yendrika hill. the pool is crowded with mahseer (barbus tor) of all sizes. these are wonderfully tame, the bigger ones feeding fearlessly from one's hand, and even allowing their backs to be stroked. they are protected by the madgole zamindars, who on several grounds venerate all fish. once, the story goes, a brinjari caught one, and turned it into curry, whereon the king of the fish solemnly cursed him, and he and all his pack-bullocks were turned into rocks, which may be seen there to the present day. at sivaratri, a festival occurs at the little thatched shrine near by, the priest at which is a bagata (telugu freshwater fisher), and part of the ritual consists in feeding the sacred fish. the madgole zamindars claim to be descended from the rulers of matsya desa. they are installed on a stone throne shaped like a fish, display a fish on their banners, and use a figure of a fish as a signature. some of their dependents wear ear-rings shaped like a fish." a tank at coondapoor contained a species of fish locally known as the flower-fish, which was especially reserved for the table of tipu sultan, being fat and full of blood. [ ] the sacred fish at tirupparankunram near madura are said to have been sages in a bygone age, and it is believed to be very meritorious to look at them. they are said to appear on the surface of the water only if you call out "kasi visvanatha." but it is said that a handful of peas thrown into the pool is more effective. the ambalakkarans (tamil cultivators) admit that they are called valaiyans, but repudiate any connection with the caste of that name. they explain the appellation by a story that, when siva's ring was swallowed by a fish in the ganges, one of their ancestors invented the first net (valai) made in the world. some natives will not eat the murrel fish (ophiocephalus striatus), owing to its resemblance to a snake. some halepaiks (canarese toddy-drawers) avoid eating a fish called srinivasa, because they fancy that the streaks on the body bear a resemblance to the vaishnavite sectarian mark (namam). members of the vamma gotra of the janappans (telugu traders) abstain from eating the bombadai fish, because, when some of their ancestors went to fetch water in a marriage pot, they found a number of this fish in the water collected in the pot. when a new net is used for the first time by the besthas of mysore, the first fish which is caught is cut, and the net is smeared with its blood. one of the meshes of the net is burnt, after incense has been thrown into the fire. . invertebrates the sahavasis of mysore are described [ ] as "immigrants, like the chitpavanas. sahavasi means co-tenant or associate, and the name is said to have been earned by the community in the following manner. in remote times, a certain brahman came upon hidden treasure, but, to his amazement, the contents appeared in his eyes to be all live scorpions. out of curiosity, he hung one of them outside his house. a little while after, a woman of inferior caste, who was passing by the house, noticed it to be gold, and, upon her questioning him about it, the brahman espoused her, and by her means was able to enjoy the treasure. he gave a feast in honour of his acquisition of wealth. he was subsequently outcasted for his mésalliance with the low caste female, while those who ate with him were put under a ban, and thus acquired the nickname." it is commonly said that the scorpion has great reverence for the name of ganesa, because it is supposed that when, on seeing a scorpion, one cries out "pilliyar annai" (in the name of ganesa), the scorpion will suddenly stop; the truth of the matter being that any loud noise arrests the movements of the animal. [ ] at the temple of kolaramma at kolar in mysore, a pit under the entrance is full of scorpions, and the customary offerings are silver scorpions. the village goddess at nangavaram in the trichinopoly district is called sattandi amman, and her idol represents her in the act of weaving a garland of scorpions. it is generally supposed that no scorpion can live in this village, and that the sacred ashes from sattandi amman's shrine are a specific for scorpion stings. people sometimes carry some of the ashes about with them, in case they should be stung. [ ] at royachoti in the cuddapah district, a festival is held on the occasion of the god going hunting. the idol virabudra is carried to a mantapam outside the town, and placed on the ground. beneath the floor of the mantapam there is a large number of scorpions. whilst the god is taking his rest, the attendants catch these scorpions, and hold them in their hands without being stung. as long as the god remains in the mantapam, the scorpions do not sting, but, directly he leaves it, they resume their poisonous propensities. [ ] the peon (attendant) in the zoological laboratory of one of the madras colleges would put his hand with impunity into a jar of live scorpions, of which he believed that only a pregnant female would sting him with hurt. lieutenant-colonel d. d. cunningham records [ ] the case of a certain yogi (religious mendicant), who was insusceptible to the stings of scorpions, "which would fix their stings so firmly into his fingers that, when he raised and shook his hand about, they remained anchored and dangling by their tails, whilst neither then nor afterwards did he show the slightest sign of pain or inconvenience. the immunity may possibly have been the result of innate idiosyncratic peculiarity in the constitution of the performer, or more probably represented the outcome of artificial exemption acquired at the expense of repeated inoculations with the virus, and corresponding development of its antitoxin." a sweeper man, who had a mole on his back in shape somewhat resembling a scorpion, believed himself to be immune against scorpion sting, and would confidently insert the poison spine of a live scorpion into his skin. in a letter to a medical officer, a native wrote, that, when a pregnant woman is stung by a scorpion, the child which is in the womb at the time of such stinging, when delivered, does not suffer from the sting of a scorpion, if ever it is stung during its lifetime. some families keep in their homes small pots called thelkodukku undi (scorpion sting vessels), and occasionally drop therein a copper coin, which is supposed to secure immunity against scorpion sting. the sakuna pakshi mendicants of vizagapatam have a remedy for scorpion sting in the root of a plant called thella visari (scorpion antidote), which they carry about with them on their rounds. the root should be collected on a new-moon day which falls on a sunday. on that day, the sakuna pakshi bathes, cuts off his loin-cloth, and goes stark-naked to a selected spot, where he gathers the roots. if a supply thereof is required, and the necessary combination of moon and day is not forthcoming, the roots should be collected on a sunday or wednesday. in cases of scorpion sting, dommara medicine-men rub up patent boluses with human milk or juice of the milk-hedge plant (euphorbia tirucalli), and apply them to the parts. among quaint remedies for scorpion sting may be noted, sitting with an iron crowbar in the mouth, and the application of chopped lizard over the puncture. the excrement of lizards fed on scorpions, and the undigested food in the stomach of a freshly killed goat, dried and reduced to powder, are also believed to be effective remedies. there is a belief that scorpions have the power of reviving, even after being completely crushed into pulp. we are, therefore, warned not to rest secure till the animal has actually been cremated. the whip-scorpion thelyphonus is believed to be venomous, some natives stating that it stings like a scorpion, others that it ejects a slimy fluid which burns, and produces blisters. the caudal flagellum of thelyphonus, of course, possesses no poison apparatus. when the umbilical cord of a kondh baby sloughs off, a spider is burnt in the fire, and its ashes are placed in a cocoanut shell, mixed with castor-oil, and applied by means of a fowl's feather to the navel. the eggs of red ants, boiled in margosa (melia azadirachta) oil, are said to be an invaluable remedy for children suffering from asthma. if a house is infested by mosquitoes, or the furniture and bedding by bugs, the names of a hundred villages or towns should be written on a piece of paper. care must be taken that all the names end in uru, kottai, palayam, etc. the paper is fastened to the ceiling or bed-post, and relief from the pests will be instantaneous. [ ] the oriya haddis, on the evening of the tenth day after a death, proceed to some distance from the house, and place food and fruits on a cloth spread on the ground. they then call the dead man by his name, and eagerly wait till some insect settles on the cloth. as soon as this happens, the cloth is folded up, carried home, and shaken over the floor close to the spot where the household gods are kept, so that the insect falls on the sand spread on the floor. a light is then placed on the sanded floor, and covered with a new pot. after some time, the pot is removed, and the sand examined for any marks which may be left on it. a devil, in the disguise of a dung-beetle of large size, is believed to haunt the house wherein a baby has been newly born, and the impact of the insect against the infant will bring about its instant death. the following case was brought to my notice by the chemical examiner to government. in malabar, a young man, apparently in good health, walked home with two other men after a feast, chewing betel. arriving at his home, he retired to rest, and was found dead in the morning. blood was described as oozing out of his eyes. it was given out that the cause of death was an insect, which infests betel leaves, and is very poisonous. the belief in death from chewing or swallowing the veththilai or vettila poochi (betel insect) is a very general one, and is so strong that, when a person suffers from giddiness, after chewing betel, he is afraid that he has partaken of the poisonous insect. native gentlemen take particular care to examine every betel leaf, wipe it with a cloth, and smear chunam (lime) over it, before chewing. the poochi is called by gundert [ ] vettila pampu or moorkhan (snake), or vettila thel (scorpion). it has been described [ ] as "a poisonous creature, which lives adhering to the betel leaf. its presence cannot be easily detected, and many deaths occur among persons who are in the habit of carelessly chewing betel. the poison passes into the system through the moisture of the mouth, and death ensues within an hour and a half. it generally inhabits the female leaf, i.e., the leaf that opens at night. the following symptoms are seen when a person is affected with the poison:--exhaustion, delirium, copious perspiration, and change of colour of the skin. treatment:--administer internally the juice of the leaves of a tree called arippera. make the patient suck the milk of the breast of a woman, whose baby is more than eighty days old." a perichæte earthworm was sent to me from malabar as a specimen of vettila poochi, with a note to the effect that, when it is accidentally chewed, the chief symptom is drawing in of the tongue, and consequent death from suffocation. the antidote was said to be salt and water, and the leaves of the goa (guava) tree. from south canara, mr h. latham sent me a planarian worm, about two inches in length, which is believed to be the vettila poochi. his camp boy told him of a case in which death was said to have resulted from eating one of these animals cooked with some jak fruit. a few years ago, a scare arose in connection with an insect, which was said to have taken up its abode in imported german glass bangles, which compete with the indigenous industry of the gazula bangle-makers. the insect was reported to lie low in the bangle till it was purchased, when it would come out and nip the wearer, after warning her to get her affairs in order before succumbing. a specimen of a broken bangle, from which the insect was said to have burst forth, was sent to me. but the insect was not forthcoming. as a further example of the way in which the opponents of a new industry avail themselves of the credulity of the native, i may cite the recent official introduction of the chrome-tanning industry in madras. in connection therewith, a rumour spread more or less throughout the presidency that the wearing of chrome-tanned boots or sandals gave rise to leprosy, blood poisoning, and failure of the eyesight. iii the evil eye the objection which a high caste brahman has to being seen by a low caste man when he is eating his food is based on a belief allied to that of the evil eye. the brahmanical theory of vision, as propounded in the sacred writings, and understood by orthodox pandits, corresponds with the old corpuscular theory. the low caste man being in every respect inferior to the brahman, the matter or subtle substance proceeding from his eye, and mixing with the objects seen by him, must of necessity be inferior and bad. so food, which is seen by a low caste man, in virtue of the radii perniciosi which it has received, will contaminate the brahman. this, it has been pointed out, [ ] is "a good illustration of the theory propounded by mr e. s. hartland at the york meeting of the british association ( ), that both magic and religion, in their earliest forms, are based on the conception of a transmissible personality, the mana of the melanesian races." a friend once rode accidentally into a weaver's feast, and threw his shadow on their food, and trouble arose in consequence. on one occasion, when i was in camp at coimbatore, the oddes (navvies) being afraid of my evil eye, refused to fire a new kiln of bricks for the new club chambers, until i had taken my departure. on another occasion, i caught hold of a ladle, to show my friend dr rivers what were the fragrant contents of a pot, in which an odde woman was cooking the evening meal. on returning from a walk, we heard a great noise proceeding from the odde men who had meanwhile returned from work, and found the woman seated apart on a rock, and sobbing. she had been excommunicated, not because i touched the ladle, but because she had afterwards touched the pot. after much arbitration, i paid up the necessary fine, and she was received back into her caste. the following passage occurred in an official document, which was sent to sir m. e. grant duff, when he was governor of madras. [ ] the writer was mr andrew, c.s. "sir c. trevelyan visited walajapet many years ago. when there, he naturally asked to see the cloths, carpets, etc. (which are manufactured there). soon after (owing to the railway of course), trade began to diminish, and to this day, i hear that even the well-to-do traders think it was owing to the visit, as they believe that, if a great man takes particular notice of a person or place, ill-luck will follow. a month ago, i was walking near ranipet, and stopped for a minute to notice a good native house, and asked whose it was, etc. a few hours after, the house took fire (the owner, after his prayers upstairs, had left a light in his room), and the people in the town think that the fire was caused by my having noticed the house. so, when his excellency drove through walajapet last july, the bazaar people did not show their best cloths, fearing ill-luck would follow, but also because they thought he would introduce their trade in carpets, etc., into the central jail, vellore, and so ruin them." in villages, strangers are not allowed to be present, when the cows are milked. sudden failure of milk, or blood-stained milk, are attributed to the evil eye, to remove the influence of which the owner of the affected cow resorts to the magician. when the hill kondhs are threshing the crop, strangers may not look on the crop, or speak to them, lest their evil eye should be cast on them. if a stranger is seen approaching the threshing-floor, the kondhs keep him off by signalling with their hands, without speaking. in malabar, a mantram, which is said to be effective against the potency of the evil eye, runs as follows:--"salutation to thee, o god! even as the moon wanes in its brightness at the sight of the sun, even as the bird chakora (crow-pheasant) disappears at the sight of the moon, even as the great vasuki (king of serpents) vanishes at the sight of the chakora, even as the poison vanishes from his head, so may the potency of his evil eye vanish with thy aid." [ ] in malabar, fear of the evil eye is very general. at the corner of the upper storey of almost every nayar house near a road or path is suspended some object, often a doll-like hideous creature, on which the eye of the passers-by may rest. [ ] "a crop," mr logan writes, [ ] "is being raised in a garden visible from the road. the vegetables will never reach maturity, unless a bogey of some sort is set up in their midst. a cow will stop giving milk, unless a conch (turbinella rapa) shell is tied conspicuously about her horns. [mappilla cart-drivers tie black ropes round the neck, or across the faces of their bullocks.] when a house or shop is being built, there surely is to be found exposed in some conspicuous position an image, sometimes of extreme indecency, a pot covered with cabalistic signs, a prickly branch of cactus, or what not, to catch the evil eye of passers-by, and divert their attention from the important work in hand." many of the carved wooden images recall forcibly to mind the horatian satire:--"olim truncus eram.... obscenoque ruber porrectus ab inguine palus." for the following note on the evil eye in malabar, i am indebted to mr s. appadorai iyer. "it is not the eye alone that commits the mischief, but also the mind and tongue. man is said to do good or evil through the mind, word and deed, i.e., manasa, vacha, and karmana. when a new house is being constructed, or a vegetable garden or rice-field are in a flourishing condition, the following precautions are taken to ward off the evil eye:-- "(a) in buildings " . a pot with black and white marks on it is suspended mouth downwards. " . a wooden figure of a monkey, with pendulous testicles, is suspended. " . the figure of a malayali woman, with protuberant breasts, is suspended. "(b) in gardens and fields " . a straw figure, covered with black cloth daubed with black and white dots, is placed on a long pole. if the figure represents a male, it has pendent testicles, and, if a female, well developed breasts. sometimes, male and female figures are placed together in an embracing posture. " . pots, as described above, are placed on bamboo poles. " . a portion of the skull of a bull, with horns attached, is set up on a long pole. "the figures, pots, and skulls, are primarily intended to scare away crows, stray cattle, and other marauders, and secondly to ward off the evil eye. instances are quoted, in which handsome buildings have fallen down, and ripe fruits and grain crops have withered through the influence of the eye, which has also been held responsible for the bursting of a woman's breasts." in madras, human figures, made of broken bricks and mortar, are kept permanently in the front of the upstairs verandah. some years ago, sir george birdwood recorded the flogging, by order of the police magistrate of black town (now george town), madras, of a hindu boy for exhibiting an indecent figure in public view. what he had explicitly done was to set up, in accordance with universal custom, a phallic image before a house that was in course of erection by a hindu gentleman, who was first tried under the indictment, but was acquitted, he, the owner, not having been the person who had actually exhibited the image. [ ] monstrous priapi, made in straw, with painted clay pots for heads, pots smeared with chunam (lime) and studded with black dots, or palmyra palm fruits coated with chunam, may often be seen set up in the fields, to guard the ripening crop. in a note on the tamil paraiyans, the rev a. c. clayton writes as follows: [ ] "charms, in the form of metal cylinders, are worn to avoid the baneful influence of the evil eye. to prevent this from affecting the crops, paraiyans put up scarecrows in their fields. these are usually small broken earthen pots, whitewashed or covered with spots of whitewash, or even adorned with huge clay noses and ears, and made into grotesque faces. for the same reason, more elaborate figures, made of mud and twigs in human shape, are sometimes set up." the indecent figures carved on temple cars, are intended to avert the evil eye. during temple or marriage processions, two huge human figures, male and female, made of bamboo wicker-work, are carried in front for the same purpose. at the buffalo races in south canara, which take place when the first crop has been gathered, there is a procession, which is sometimes headed by two dolls represented in coitu borne on a man's head. at a race meeting near mangalore, one of the devil-dancers had the genitalia represented by a long piece of cloth and enormous testicles. sometimes, in case of illness, a figure is made of rice-flour paste, and copper coins are stuck on the head, hands, and abdomen thereof. it is waved in front of the sick person, taken to a place where three roads or paths meet, and left there. at other times, a hole is made in a gourd (benincasa cerifera or lagenaria vulgaris), which is filled with turmeric and chunam, and waved round the patient. it is then taken to a place where three roads meet, and broken. at a ceremony performed in travancore when epidemic disease prevails, an image of bhadrakali is drawn on the ground with powders of five colours, white, yellow, black, green, and red. at night, songs are sung in praise of that deity by a tiyattunni and his followers. a member of the troupe then plays the part of bhadrakali in the act of murdering the demon darika, and, in conclusion, waves a torch before the inmates of the house, to ward off the evil eye, which is the most important item in the whole ceremony. the torch is believed to be given by siva, who is worshipped before the light is waved. in cases of smallpox, a bunch of nim (melia azadirachta) is sometimes moved from the head to the feet of the sick person, with certain incantations, and then twisted and thrown away. the sudden illness of children is often attributed to the evil eye. in such cases, the following remedies are considered efficacious:-- ( ) a few sticks from a new unused broom are set fire to, waved several times round the child, and placed in a corner. with some of the ashes the mother makes a mark on the child's forehead. if the broom burns to ashes without making a noise, the women cry: "look at it. it burns without the slightest noise. the creature's eyes are really very bad." abuse is then heaped on the person whose eyes are supposed to have an evil influence. ( ) some chillies, salt, human hair, nail-cuttings, and finely powered earth from the pit of the door-post are mixed together, waved three times in front of the child, and thrown onto the fire. woe betide the possessor of the evil eye, if no pungent, suffocating smell arises when it is burning. ( ) a piece of burning camphor is waved in front of the child. ( ) balls of cooked rice, painted red, black, and white (with curds), are waved before the child. loss of appetite in children is attributed by mothers to the visit of a supposed evil person to the house. on that person appearing again, the mother will take a little sand or dust from under the visitor's foot, whirl it round the head of the child, and throw it on the hearth. if the suspected person is not likely to turn up again, a handful of cotton-seed, chillies, and dust from the middle of the street, is whirled round the child's head, and thrown on the hearth. if the chillies produce a strong smell, the evil eye has been averted. if they do not do so, the suspect is roundly abused by the mother, and never again admitted to the house. matrons make the faces of children ugly by painting two or three black dots on the chin and cheeks, and painting the eyelids black with lamp-black paste. it is a good thing to frighten any one who expresses admiration of one's belongings. for example, if a friend praises your son's eyes, you should say to him, "look out! there is a snake at your feet." if he is frightened, the evil eye has been averted. it is said [ ] that "you will cause mortal offence to a hindu lady, should you remark of her child 'what a nice baby you have,' or 'how baby has grown since i saw him last.' she makes it a rule to speak deprecatingly of her child, and represents it as the victim of non-existent ailments, so that your evil eye shall not affect it. but, should she become aware that, in spite of her precautions, you have defiled it with your admiration, she will lose no time in counteracting the effect of drishtidosham. one of the simplest methods adopted for this purpose is to take a small quantity of chillies and salt in the closed palm, and throw it into the fire, after waving it thrice round the head of the child, to the accompaniment of incantations. if no pungent odour is apparent, it is an indication that the dosham has been averted." at the sakalathi festival of the badagas of the nilgiris, a cake is made, on which are placed a little rice and butter. three wicks steeped in castor-oil are put in it, and lighted. the cake is then waved round the heads of all the children of the house, taken to a field, and thrown thereon with the words "sakalathi has come." at the suppidi ceremony, which every nattukottai chetti (tamil banker) youth has to perform before marriage, the young man goes to the temple. on his return home, and at the entrance of nattukottai houses which he passes, rice-lamps are waved before him. the custom of making a "wave offering" [ ] at puberty and marriage ceremonies is very widespread. thus, when a tangalan paraiyan girl attains puberty, she is bathed on the ninth day, and ten small lamps of flour paste, called drishti mavu vilakku, are put on a sieve, and waved before her. then coloured water (arati or alam,) and burning camphor, are waved in front of her. at the puberty ceremonies of the tamil maravans, the girl comes out of seclusion on the sixteenth day, bathes, and returns to her house. at the threshold, her future husband's sister is standing, and averts the evil eye by waving betel leaves, plantains, cooked flour paste, a vessel filled with water, and an iron measure containing rice with a style stuck in it. at a palli (tamil cultivator) wedding, water coloured with turmeric and chunam (arati) is waved round the bride and bridegroom. later on, when the bride is about to enter the home of the bridegroom, coloured water and a cocoanut are waved in front of the newly married couple. at a marriage among the pallans (tamil cultivators), when the contracting couple sit on the dais, coloured water, or balls of coloured rice with lighted wicks, are waved round them. water is poured into their hands from a vessel, and sprinkled over their heads. the vessel is then waved before them. during a koliyan (tamil weaver) wedding coloured water, into which leaves of bauhinia variegata are thrown, are waved. at a marriage among the khatris (weavers), when the bridegroom arrives at the house of the bride, her mother comes out, and waves coloured water, and washes his eyes with water. at a tangalan paraiyan wedding, during a ceremony for removing the evil eye, a pipal (ficus religiosa) leaf is held over the foreheads of the bridal couple, with its tail downwards, and all the close relations pour milk over it, so that it trickles over their faces. during a marriage among the sembadavans (tamil fishermen), the bride and bridegroom go through a ceremony called sige kazhippu, with the object of warding off the evil eye, which consists in pouring a few drops of milk on their foreheads from a fig or betel leaf. at a kapu (telugu cultivator) wedding, the ganga idol, which is kept in the custody of a tsakala (washerman), is brought to the marriage house. at the entrance thereto, red-coloured food, coloured water, and incense, are waved before it. during a marriage among the balijas (telugu traders), the bridegroom is stopped at the entrance to the room in which the marriage pots are kept by a number of married women, and has to pay a small sum for the arati (coloured water), which is waved by the women. at a bilimagga (weaver) wedding in south canara, the bridegroom's father waves incense in front of a cot and brass vessel, and lights and arati water are waved before the bridegroom. at a royal marriage in travancore, in , a bevy of nayar maidens, quaintly dressed, walked in front of the rani's palanquin. they were intended as drishti pariharam, to ward off the evil eye. sometimes, in malabar, when a person is believed to be under the influence of a devil or the evil eye, salt, chillies, tamarinds, oil, mustard, cocoanut, and a few pice (copper coins), are placed in a vessel, waved round the head of the affected individual, and given to a nayadi, [ ] whose curse is asked for. there is this peculiarity about a nayadi's curse, that it always has the opposite effect. hence, when he is asked to curse one who has given him alms, he complies by invoking misery and evil upon him. the terms used by him for such invocations are attupo or mutinjupo (to perish), adimondupo (to be a slave), etc. [ ] during one of my tours, a gang of yerukalas absolutely refused to sit on a chair, and i had perforce to measure their heads while they squatted on the ground. to get rid of my evil influence, they subsequently went through the ceremony of waving red-coloured water and sacrificing fowls. during a marriage among the madigas (telugu pariahs), a sheep or goat is sacrificed to the marriage pots. the sacrificer dips his hand in the blood of the animal, and impresses the blood on his palms on the wall near the door leading to the room in which the pots are kept. this is said to avert the evil eye. among the telugu malas, a few days before a wedding, two marks are made, one on each side of the door, with oil and charcoal, for the same purpose. at kadur, in the mysore province, i once saw impressions of the hand on the walls of brahman houses. impressions in red paint of a hand with outspread fingers may be seen on the walls of mosques and muhammadan buildings. [ ] when cholera, or other epidemic disease, breaks out, muhammadans leave the imprint of the hand dipped in sandal paste on the door. when a tamil paraiyan dies, an impression of the dead man's palm is sometimes taken in cow-dung, and stuck on the wall. [ ] the failure of a criminal expedition of the koravas is said by mr f. fawcett, [ ] to be "generally attributed to the evil eye, or the evil tongue, whose bad effects are evinced in many ways. if the excursion has been for house-breaking, the house-breaking implement is often soldered at its sharp end with panchalokam (five metals), to counteract the effect of the evil eye. the evil tongue is a frequent cause of failure. it consists in talking evil of others, or harping on probable misfortunes. there are various ways of removing its unhappy effects. a mud figure of a man is made on the ground, and thorns are placed over the mouth. this is the man with the evil tongue. those who have suffered walk round it, crying out and beating their mouths; the greater the noise, the better the effect. cutting the neck of a fowl half through and allowing it to flutter about, or inserting a red hot splinter in its anus to madden it with pain, are considered to be effective, while, if a cock should crow after its neck has been cut, calamities are averted." iv snake worship very closely connected with the subject of vows and votive offerings is that of the worship of snakes, to which vows are made and offerings dedicated. in a note on serpent worship in malabar, [ ] it is stated that "even to-day some corner of the garden of every respectable tarawad [ ] is allotted for snakes. here a few trees are allowed to grow wild, and under them, on a masonry platform, one or more sculptured granite stones representing hooded serpents (cobras) are consecrated and set up. the whole area is held sacred, and a mud lamp is lighted there every evening with religious regularity. i have seen eggs, milk, and plantains offered in the evening, after the lamp has been lit, at these shrines, to invoke the serpent's aid on particular occasions. such is the veneration in which these shrines are held that cherumars (agrestic serfs) and other low caste aborigines, who are believed to pollute by their very approach, are absolutely interdicted from getting within the precincts. should, however, any such pollute the shrine, the resident snake or its emissary is said to apprise the owner of the defilement by creeping to the very threshold of his house, and remaining there until the karanavan, [ ] or other managing member of the family promises to have it duly purified by a brahman." concerning snake worship in malabar, mr c. karunakara menon writes [ ] as follows:-- "the existence of snake groves is said to owe its origin to sri parasurama. [according to tradition, parasurama was an avatar of vishnu, who destroyed the kshatriya rajas, and retired to gokarnam in canara. he called on varuna, the god of water, to give him some land. varuna caused the sea to recede, and thus the land called kerala (including malabar) came into existence. brahmans were brought from northern india to colonise the new country, but they ran away from fear of the snakes, of which it was full. parasurama then brought in a further consignment of brahmans from the north, and divided the country into sixty-four brahmanical colonies.] parasurama advised that a part of every house should be set apart for snakes as household gods. the (snake) groves have the appearance of miniature reserved forests, as they are considered sacred, and there is a strong prejudice against cutting down trees therein. the groves contain a snake king and queen made of granite, and a tower-like structure, made of laterite, [ ] for the sacred snakes. snakes were, in olden days, considered a part of the property. [transfer deeds made special mention of the family serpent as one of the articles sold along with the freehold.] "when a snake is seen inside, or in the neighbourhood of the house, great care is taken to catch it without giving it the least pain. usually a stick is placed gently on its head, and the mouth of an earthenware pot is shown to it. when it is in, the pot is loosely covered with a cocoanut shell, to allow of free breathing. it is then taken to a secluded spot, the pot is destroyed, and the snake set at liberty. it is considered to be polluted by being caught in this way, and holy water is sometimes poured over it. killing a snake is considered a grievous sin, and even to see a snake with its head bruised is believed to be a precursor of calamities. pious malayalis (natives of malabar), when they see a snake killed in this way, have it burnt with the full solemnities attendant on the cremation of a high-caste hindu. the carcase is covered with a piece of silk, and burnt in sandalwood. a brahman is hired to observe pollution for some days, and elaborate funeral oblations are offered to the dead snake." in travancore there was formerly a judicial ordeal by snake-bite. the accused thrust his hand into a mantle, in which a cobra was wrapped up. if it bit him, he was declared guilty, if not innocent. in connection with snake worship in malabar, mr upendra pai gives the following details. [ ] among snakes none is more dreaded than the cobra (naia tripudians), which accordingly has gathered round it more fanciful superstitions than any other snake. this has led to cobra worship, which is often performed with a special object in view. in some parts of the country, every town or village has its images of cobras rudely carved on stone. these cobra stones, as they are termed, are placed either on little platforms of stone specially erected for them, or at the base of some tree, preferably a holy fig. [ ] on the fifth day of the lunar month shravana, known as the nagarapanchami--that is, the fifth day of the nagas or serpents--these stones are first washed; then milk, curds, ghi (clarified butter), and cocoanut water, are poured over them. afterwards they are decorated with flowers, and offerings are made to them. the cobra stone is also worshipped at other times by those who have no male children, in order to obtain such. but to establish new images of cobras in suitable places is regarded as a surer method of achieving this object. for this certain preliminary ceremonies have to be gone through, and, when once the image has been established, it is the duty of the establisher to see that it is properly worshipped at least once a year, on the nagarapanchami day. the merit obtained is proportionate to the number of images thus worshipped, so that pious people, to obtain a great deal of merit, and at the same time to save themselves the expense of erecting many stone images, have several images drawn, each on a tiny bit of a thin plate of gold or silver. these images are handed over to some priest, to be kept along with other images, to which daily worship is rendered. in this way, great merit is supposed to be obtained. it is also believed that such worship will destroy all danger proceeding from snakes. the cobra being thus an object of worship, it is a deadly sin to kill or maim it. for the cobra is in the popular imagination a brahman, and there is no greater sin than that of killing a brahman. accordingly, if any one kills a cobra, he is sure to contract leprosy, which is the peculiar punishment of those who have either killed a cobra, or have led to the destruction of its eggs by digging in or ploughing up soil which it haunts, or setting on fire jungle or grass in the midst of which it is known to live and breed. in a note on snake worship, mr r. kulathu iyer writes as follows: [ ]-- "in travancore there is a place called mannarsala, which is well known for its serpent worship. it is the abode of the snake king and queen, and their followers. the grove and its premises cover about acres. in the middle of this grove are two small temples dedicated to the snake king and queen. there are also thousands of snakes of granite, representing the various followers of the king and queen. just to the northern side of the temple there is a house, the abode of the nampiathy, [ ] who performs pooja (worship) in the temple. in caste he is lower in grade than a brahmin. the temple has paddy (rice) fields and estates of its own, and also has a large income from various sources. there is an annual festival at this temple, known as ayilyam festival, which is celebrated in the months of kanny and thulam (september and october). a large number of people assemble for worship with offerings of gold, silver, salt, melons, etc. the sale proceeds of these offerings after a festival would amount to a pretty large sum. on the day previous to the ayilyam festival, the temple authorities spend something like three thousand rupees in feeding the brahmins. a grand feast is given to nearly three thousand brahmins at the house of the nampiathy. on the ayilyam day, all the serpent gods are taken in procession to the illam (house of the nampiathy) by the eldest female member of the house, and offerings of neerumpalum (a mixture of rice-flour, turmeric, ghi, water of tender cocoanuts, etc.), boiled rice, and other things, are made to the serpent gods. it is said that the neerumpalum mixture would be poured into a big vessel, and kept inside a room for three days, when the vessel would be found empty. it is supposed that the serpents drink the contents. as regards the origin of this celebrated grove, mr s. krishna iyer, in one of his contributions to the calcutta quarterly review, says that 'the land from avoor on the south to alleppy on the north was the site of the khandava forest celebrated in the mahabaratha; that, when arjuna set fire to it, the serpents fled in confusion and reached mannarasalay, and there prayed to the gods for protection; that thereupon the earth around was miraculously cooled down, and hence the name mun-l-ari-l-sala, the place where the earth was cooled. after the serpents found shelter from the khandava fire, an ancestress of the nambiathy had a vision calling upon her to dedicate the groves and some land to the naga raja (snake king), and build a temple therein. these commands were obeyed forth-with, and thenceforward the naga raja became their family deity.' in the 'travancore state manual,' mr nagam iyer, referring to mannarsala, says that 'a member of this mannarsala illam married a girl of the vettikod illam, where the serpents were held in great veneration. the girl's parents, being very poor, had nothing to give in the way of dowry, so they gave her one of the stone idols of the serpent, of which there were many in the house. the girl took care of this idol, and worshipped it regularly. soon she became pregnant, and gave birth to a male child and a snake. the snake child grew up, and gave rise to a numerous progeny. they were all removed to a spot where the present kavu (grove) is. in this kavu there are now four thousand stone idols representing snake gods.' such is the origin of this celebrated grove of central travancore." on the bank of the river separating cranganore from the rest of the native state of cochin is the residence of a certain brahman called the pampanmekkat (snake guardian) nambudri, who has been called the high priest of serpent worship. it is recorded [ ] by mr karunakara menon that, "a respectable family at angadipuram (in malabar) sold their ancestral house to a supervisor in the local fund p. w. d. (public works department). he cut down the snake grove, and planted it up. some members of the vendor's family began to suffer from some cutaneous complaint. as usual the local astrologer was called in, and he attributed the ailment to the ire of the aggrieved family serpents. these men then went to the brahmin house of pampu mekat. this namboodri family is a special favourite of the snakes. when a new serpent grove has to be created, or if it is found necessary to remove a grove from one place to another, the ritual is entirely in the hands of these people. when a family suffers from the wrath of the serpents, they generally go to this namboodri house. the eldest woman of the house would hear the grievances of the party, and then, taking a vessel full of gingelly (sesamum) oil, and looking into it, would give out the directions to be observed in satisfying the serpents." concerning the pampanmekkat nambudri, mr gopal panikkar writes [ ] that, "it is said that this nambudri household is full of cobras, which find their abode in every nook and corner of it. the inmates can scarcely move about without placing their feet upon one of these serpents. owing to the magic influence of the family, the serpents cannot and will not injure them. the serpents are said to be always at the beck and call of the members of this nambudri family, and render unquestioned obedience to their commands. they watch and protect the interests of the family in the most zealous spirit." it is said [ ] that, "every year the nambudri receives many offerings in the shape of golden images of snakes, for propitiating the serpent god to ward off calamity, or to enlist its aid in the cure of a disease, or for the attainment of a particular object. it is well known that the nambudri has several hundreds of these images and other valuable offerings, the collection of centuries, amounting in value to over a lakh of rupees. this aroused the cupidity of a gang of dacoits (robbers), who resolved some years ago to ease the nambudri of a great portion of this treasure. on a certain night, armed with lathies (sticks), slings, torches, and other paraphernalia, the dacoits went to the illam, and, forcibly effecting an entrance, bound the senior nambudri's hands and feet, and threw him on his breast. this precaution taken, the keys of the treasure-room were demanded, the alternative being further personal injury. to save himself from further violence, the keys were surrendered. the dacoits secured all the gold images, leaving the silver ones severely alone, and departed. but, directly they went past the gate of the house, many snakes chased them, and, in the twinkling of an eye, each of the depredators had two snakes coiled round him, others investing the gang, and threatening, with uplifted hoods and hisses, to dart at them. the dacoits remained stunned and motionless. meantime, the authorities were communicated with, and the whole gang was taken into custody. it is said that the serpents did not budge an inch until after the arrival of the officers." other marvellous stories of the way in which the snakes carry out their trust are narrated. a section of ambalavasis or temple servants in malabar, called teyyambadis, the members of which dance and sing in bhagavati temples, perform a song called nagapattu (song in honour of snakes) in private houses, which is supposed to be effective in procuring offspring. [ ] in many houses of the tiyans of malabar, offerings are made annually to a bygone personage named kunnath nayar, and to his friend and disciple, kunhi rayan, a mappilla (muhammadan). according to the legend, the nayar worshipped the kite until he obtained command and control over all the snakes in the land. there are mappilla devotees of kunnath nayar and kunhi rayan, who exhibit snakes in a box, and collect alms for a snake mosque near manarghat at the foot of the nilgiri hills. a class of snake-charmers in malabar, called kuravan, go about the country exhibiting snakes. it is considered to be a great act of piety to purchase these animals, and set them at liberty. the vagrant kakkalans of travancore, who are said to be identical with the kakka kuravans, are unrivalled at a dance called pampatam (snake dance). the pulluvans of malabar are astrologers, medicine-men, and priests and singers in snake groves. according to a legend [ ] they are descended from a male and female servant, who were exiled by a brahman in connection with the rescuing by the female of a snake which escaped when the gandava forest was set on fire by agni, the god of fire. another legend records how a five-hooded snake fled from the burning forest, and was taken home by a woman, and placed in a room. when her husband entered the room, he found an ant-hill, from which the snake issued forth, and bit him. as the result of the bite, the man died, and his widow was left without means of support. the snake consoled her, and devised a plan, by which she could maintain herself. she was to go from house to house, and cry out, "give me alms, and be saved from snake-poisoning." the inmates would give alms, and the snakes, which might be troubling them, would cease to annoy. for this reason, the pulluvas, when they go with their pot-drum (pulluva kudam) to a house, are asked to play, and sing songs which are acceptable to the snake gods, in return for which they receive a present of money. a pulluvan and his wife preside at the ceremony called pamban tullal, which is carried out with the object of propitiating the snake gods. concerning this ceremony, mr l. k. anantha krishna iyer writes as follows [ ]:-- "a pandal (booth) supported by four poles driven into the ground is put up for the purpose, and the tops of the poles are connected with a network of strings, over which a silk or red cloth is spread to form a canopy. the pandal is well decorated, and the floor below it is slightly raised and smoothed. a hideous figure of the size of a big serpent is drawn in rice-flour, turmeric (curcuma longa), kuvva(curcuma angustifolia), powdered charcoal, and a green powder. these five powders are essential, for their colours are visible on the necks of serpents. some rice is scattered on the floor and on the sides, and ripe and green cocoanuts are placed on a small quantity of rice and paddy (unhusked rice) on each side. a puja for ganapathi (the elephant god) is performed, to see that the whole ceremony terminates well. a good deal of frankincense is burned, and a lamp is placed on a plate, to add to the purity, sanctity, and solemnity of the occasion. the members of the house go round the pandal as a token of reverence, and take their seats close by. it often happens that the members of several neighbouring families take part in the ceremony. the women, from whom devils have to be cast out, bathe and take their seats on the western side, each with a flower-pod of the areca palm. the pulluvan, with his wife or daughter, begins his shrill musical tunes (on serpents), vocal and instrumental alternately. as they sing, the young female members appear to be influenced by the modulation of the tunes and the smell of the perfumes. they gradually move their heads in a circle, which soon quickens, and the long locks of hair are soon let loose. these movements appear to keep time with the pulluvan's music. in their unconscious state, they beat upon the floor, and wipe off the figure drawn. as soon as this is done, they go to a serpent grove close by, where there may be a few stone images of serpents, before which they prostrate themselves. they now recover their consciousness, and take milk, water of the green cocoanut, and plantain fruits, and the ceremony is over." in connection with the pamban tullal, mr gopal panikkar writes [ ] that "sometimes the gods appear in the bodies of all these females, and sometimes only in those of a select few, or none at all. the refusal of the gods to enter into such persons is symbolical of some want of cleanliness in them; which contingency is looked upon as a source of anxiety to the individual. it may also suggest the displeasure of these gods towards the family, in respect of which the ceremony is performed. in either case, such refusal on the part of the gods is an index of their ill-will or dissatisfaction. in cases where the gods refuse to appear in any one of those seated for the purpose, the ceremony is prolonged until the gods are so propitiated as to constrain them to manifest themselves. then, after the lapse of the number of days fixed for the ceremony, and, after the will of the serpent gods is duly expressed, the ceremonies close." sometimes, it is said, it may be considered necessary to rub away the figure as many as one hundred and one times, in which case the ceremony is prolonged over several weeks. each time that the snake design is destroyed, one or two men, with torches in their hands, perform a dance, keeping step to the pulluvan's music. the family may eventually erect a small platform or shrine in a corner of their grounds, and worship at it annually. the snake deity will not, it is believed, manifest himself if any of the persons or articles required for the ceremony are impure, e.g., if the pot-drum has been polluted by the touch of a menstruating female. the pulluvan, from whom a drum was purchased for the madras museum, was very reluctant to part with it, lest it should be touched by an impure woman. in addition to the pot-drum, the pulluvans play on a lute with snakes painted on the reptile skin, which is used in lieu of parchment. the skin, in a specimen which i acquired, is apparently that of the big lizard varanus bengalensis. the lute is played with a bow, to which a metal bell is attached. in the "madras census report," , [ ] surgeon-major cornish states that there is a place near vaisarpadi, close to madras, in which the worship of the living snakes draws crowds of votaries, who make holiday excursions to the temple, generally on sundays, in the hope of seeing the snakes, which are preserved in the temple grounds; and, he adds, probably as long as the desire of offspring is a leading characteristic of the indian people, so long will the worship of the serpent, or of snake-stones, be a popular cult. he describes further how, at rajahmundry in the telugu country, he came across an old ant-hill by the side of a public road, on which was placed a stone representing a cobra, and the ground all round was stuck over with pieces of wood carved very rudely in the shape of a snake. these were the offerings left by devotees at the abode taken up by an old snake, who would occasionally come out of his hole, and feast on the eggs and ghi (clarified butter) left for him by his adorers. around this place he saw many women who had come to pray at the shrine. if they chanced to see the cobra, the omen was interpreted favourably, and their prayers for progeny would be granted. >concerning snake worship in the tamil country, mr w. francis writes as follows [ ]:-- "a vow is taken by childless wives to install a serpent (nagapratishtai), if they are blessed with offspring. the ceremony consists in having a figure of a serpent cut in a stone slab, placing it in a well for six months, giving it life (pranapratishtai) by reciting mantrams and performing other ceremonies over it, and then setting it up under a pipal tree (ficus religiosa), which has been married to a margosa (melia azadirachta). worship, which consists mainly in going round the tree times, is then performed to it for the next forty-five days. similar circumambulations will also bring good luck in a general way, if carried out subsequently." it is further recorded by mr f. r. hemingway [ ] that, "brahmans and the higher vellalans think that children can be obtained by worshipping the cobra. vellalans and kallans perform the worship on a friday. among the vellalans, this is generally after the pongal festival. the vellalans make an old woman cry aloud in the backyard that a sacrifice will be made to the cobra next day, and that they pray it will accept the offering. at the time of sacrifice, cooked jaggery (crude sugar) and rice, burning ghi in the middle of rice-flour, and an egg, are offered to the cobra, and left in the backyard for its acceptance. the pallis annually worship the cobra by pouring milk on an ant-hill, and sacrificing a fowl near it. valaiyans, pallans, and paraiyans sacrifice a fowl in their own backyards." in the tamil country, children whose birth is attributed to a vow taken by childless mothers to offer a snake cut on a stone slab, sometimes have a name bearing reference to snakes given to them, i.e., seshachalam, [ ] seshamma, nagappa, or nagamma. naga, nagasa, or nageswara, occurs as the name of a totemistic exogamous sept or gotra of various classes in ganjam and vizagapatam. in the odiya caste of farmers in ganjam, members of the nagabonso sept claim to be descendants of nagamuni, the serpent rishi. nagavadam (cobra's hood) is the name of a subdivision of the tamil pallis, who wear an ornament called nagavadam, representing a cobra, in the dilated lobes of the ears. ant (i.e., white-ant, termes) hills, which have been repeatedly referred to in this chapter, are frequently inhabited by cobras, and offerings of milk, fruit, and flowers are consequently made to them on certain ceremonial occasions. thus it is recorded, [ ] by the rev. j. cain that when he was living in ellore fort in the godavari district, in september, , "a large crowd of people, chiefly women and children, came in, and visited every white-ant hill, poured upon each their offerings of milk, flowers, and fruit, to the intense delight of all the crows in the neighbourhood. the day was called the nagula chaturdhi--chaturdhi, the fourth day of the eighth lunar month--and was said to be the day when vasuki, takshaka, and the rest of the thousand nagulu were born to kasyapa brahma by his wife kadruva. [ ] the other chief occasions when these ant-hills are resorted to are when people are affected with earache or pains in the eye, and certain skin diseases. they visit the ant-hills, pour out milk, cold rice, fruit, etc., and carry away part of the earth, which they apply to the troublesome member, and, if they afterwards call in a brahman to repeat a mantra or two, they feel sure the complaint will soon vanish. many parents first cut their children's hair near one of these hillocks, and offer the first fruits of the hair to the serpents residing there." the colossal jain figure of gomatesvara, gummatta, or gomata raya, at sravana belgola in mysore, [ ] is represented as surrounded by white-ant hills, from which snakes are emerging, and with a climbing plant twining itself round the legs and arms. on the occasion of the snake festival in the telugu country, the boya women worship the nagala swami (snake god) by fasting, and pouring milk into the holes of white-ant hills. by this a double object is fulfilled. the ant-hill is a favourite dwelling of the cobra, and was, moreover, the burial-place of valmiki, from whom the boyas claim to be descended. valmiki was the author of the ramayana, and is believed to have done penance for so long in one spot that a white-ant hill grew up round him. on the nagarapanchami day, lingayats worship the image of a snake made of earth from a snake's hole with offerings of milk, rice, cocoanuts, flowers, etc. during the month aswija, lingayat girls collect earth from ant-hills, and place it in a heap at the village temple. every evening they go there with wave-offerings, and worship the heap. at the dipavali festival, [ ] the gamallas (telugu toddy-drawers) bathe in the early morning, and go in wet clothes to an ant-hill, before which they prostrate themselves, and pour a little water into one of the holes. round the hill they wind five turns of cotton thread, and return home. subsequently they come once more to the ant-hill with a lamp made of flour paste. carrying the light, they go three or five times round the hill, and throw split pulse (phaseolus mungo) into one of the holes. on the following morning they again go to the hill, pour milk into it, and snap the threads wound round it. the famous temple of subramanya in south canara is said to have been in charge of the subramanya stanikas (temple servants), till it was wrested from them by the shivalli brahmans. in former times, the privilege of sticking a golden ladle into a heap of food piled up in the temple on the shasti day is said to have belonged to the stanikas. they also brought earth from an ant-hill on the previous day. food from the heap, and some of the earth, are received as sacred articles by devotees who visit the sacred shrine. at the smasanakollai festival in honour of the goddess ankalamma at malayanur, some thousands of people congregate at the temple. in front of the stone idol is a large ant-hill, on which two copper idols are placed, and a brass vessel is placed at the base of the hill, to receive the various offerings. at a wedding among the nomad lambadis, the bride and bridegroom pour milk into an ant-hill, and offer cocoanuts, milk, etc., to the snake which lives therein. during the marriage ceremonies of the dandasis (village watchmen in ganjam), a fowl is sacrificed at an ant-hill. at a bedar (canarese cultivator) wedding, the earth from an ant-hill is spread near five water-pots, and on it are scattered some paddy (unhusked rice) and dhal (cajanus indicus) seeds. the spot is visited later on, and the seeds should have sprouted. v vows, votive and other offerings in addition to the observance of penances and fasting, hindus of all castes, high and low, make vows and offerings to the gods, with the object of securing their good-will or appeasing their anger. by the lower castes, offerings of animals--fowls, sheep, goats, or buffaloes--are made, and the gods whom they seek to propitiate are minor deities, e.g., ellamma or muneswara, to whom animal sacrifices are acceptable. [ ] the higher castes usually perform vows to venkateswara of tirupati, subramanya of palni, viraraghava of tiruvallur, tirunarayana of melkote, and other celebrated gods. but they may, if afflicted with serious illness, at times, as at the leaf festival at periyapalayam (p. ), seek the good offices of minor deities. "a shrine," mr f. fawcett writes, [ ] "to which the malayalis (inhabitants of malabar), nayars included, resort is that of subramaniya at palni in the north-west of the madura district. not only are vows paid to this shrine, but men, letting their hair grow for a year after their father's death, proceed to have it cut there. the plate shows an ordinary palni pilgrim. the arrangement which he is carrying is called a kavadi (portable shrine). there are two kinds of kavadi, a milk kavadi containing milk, and a fish kavadi containing fish. the vow may be made in respect of either, each being appropriate to certain circumstances. [miniature silver kavadis, and miniature crowns, are sometimes offered by pilgrims to the god.] when the time comes near for the pilgrim to start for palni, he dresses in reddish-orange clothes, shoulders his kavadi, and starts out. together with a man ringing a bell, and perhaps one with a tom-tom, with ashes on his face, he assumes the rôle of a beggar. the well-to-do are inclined to reduce the beggar period to the minimum, but a beggar every votary must be, and as a beggar he goes to palni in all humbleness and humiliation, and there he fulfils his vow, leaves his kavadi and his hair, and a small sum of money. though the individuals about to be noticed were not nayars, their cases illustrate very well the religious idea of the nayar as expressed under certain circumstances. it was at guruvayur (in malabar) in november . on a high raised platform under a peepul tree were a number of people under vows, bound for palni. a boy of fourteen had suffered as a child from epilepsy, and seven years ago his father vowed on his behalf that, if he was cured, he would make his pilgrimage to palni. he wore a string of beads round his neck, and a like string on his right arm. these were in some way connected with the vow. his head was bent, and he sat motionless under his kavadi, leaning on the bar, which, when he carried it, rested on his shoulder. he could not go to palni until it was revealed to him in a dream when he was to start. he had waited for his dream seven years, subsisting on roots (yams, etc.), and milk--no rice. now he had had the longed-for dream, and was about to start. another pilgrim was a man wearing an oval band of silver over the lower portion of the forehead, almost covering his eyes; his tongue protruding beyond the mouth, and kept in position by a silver skewer through it. the skewer was put in the day before, and was to be left in for forty days. he had been fasting for two years. he was much under the influence of the god, and whacking incessantly at a drum in delicious excitement. several of the pilgrims had a handkerchief tied over the mouth, they being under a vow of silence. [at kumbakonam in the tanjore district, 'there is a math in honour of a recently deceased saint named paradesi, who attained wide fame in the district some years ago. he never spoke, and was welcomed and feasted everywhere, and was the subject of many vows. people used to promise to break cocoanuts in his presence, or clothe him with fine garments, if they obtained their desire, and such vows were believed to be very efficacious.' [ ] at the manjeshwar temple in south canara, there is a darsana, (man who gets inspired) called the dumb darsana, as he gives signs instead of speaking. bishop whitehead records [ ] the case of a brahman, who had taken a vow of silence for twenty-one years, because people make so much mischief by talking. he conversed by means of signs and writing in the dust]. one poor man wore the regular instrument of silence, the mouth-lock [ ]--a wide silver band over the mouth, and a skewer piercing both cheeks. he sat patiently in a tent-like affair. people fed him with milk, etc. the use of the mouth-lock is common with the nayars, when they assume the pilgrim's robes and set out for palni. pilgrims generally go in crowds under charge of a priestly guide, one who, having made a certain number of journeys to the shrine, wears a peculiar sash and other gear." in connection with kavadis, it may be noted that, at the time of the annual migration of the sacred herd of cattle belonging to the kappiliyans (canarese farmers in the madura district) to the hills, the driver is said to carry a pot of fresh-drawn milk within a kavadi. on the day on which the return journey to the kambam valley is commenced, the pot is opened, and the milk is said to be found in a hardened state. a slice thereof is cut off, and given to each person who accompanied the herd to the hills. it is believed that the milk would not remain in good condition, if the sacred herd had been in any way injuriously affected during its sojourn there. the usual vow performed at the shrine of dandayudhapani or subramanya near settikulam in the trichinopoly district is to carry milk, sugar, flour, etc., in a kavadi, and offer it to the god. [ ] a case is recorded [ ] from ceylon, in which a man who was about to proceed with a kavadi to a shrine was held by several men, while a blow with the palm of the hand caught him in the middle of the back, to numb the pain created by the forcing of sharp iron hooks into the fleshy part of the back. reference has been made (p. ) to the offering of hair by devotees at the palni shrine. when people are prevented from going to a temple at the proper time, hair is sometimes removed from their children's head, sealed up in a vessel, and put into the receptacle for offerings when the visit to the temple is paid. in cases of dangerous sickness, the hair is sometimes cut off, and offered to a deity. "the sacrifice of locks," mr a. srinivasan writes, "is meant to propitiate deceased relations, and the deity which presides over life's little joys and sorrows. it is a similar intention that has dictated the ugly disfigurement of widows. we meet with the identical fact and purpose in the habit of telugu brahmans and non-brahmans in general, sacrificing their whole locks of hair to the goddess ganga of prayaga, to the god venkatesa of tirupati, and other local gods. the brahman ladies of the south have more recently managed to please ganga and other gods with just one or two locks of hair." sometimes, in performance of a vow, patnulkaran (madura weaver) boys are taken to the shrine at tirupati for the tonsure ceremony. [ ] married couples desirous of offspring make a vow that, if a child be granted to them, they will perform the ceremony of the first shaving of its head at the temple of the god who fulfils their desire. [ ] it is said [ ] that alagarkovil in the madura district is such a favourite place for carrying out the first shaving of the heads of children, that the right to the locks presented to the shrine is annually sold by auction. writing in , mr breeks remarked [ ] that "about ootacamund, a few todas have latterly begun to imitate the religious practices of their native neighbours, and my particular friend kinniaven, after an absence of some days, returned with a shaven head from a visit to the temple of siva at nanjengudi" (in mysore). a toda who came to see me had his hair hanging down in long tails reaching below the shoulders. he had, he said, let it grow long because his wife, though married five years, had borne no child. a child had, however, recently been born, and he was going to sacrifice his locks as a thank-offering at the nanjengod temple. by the badagas of the nilgiris, the fire-walking ceremony is celebrated to propitiate the deity jeddayaswami, to whom vows are made. in token thereof, they grow one twist or plait of hair, which is finally cut off as an offering to jeddayaswami. by some gavaras (a cultivating caste) of vizagapatam, special reverence is paid to the deity jagganathaswami of orissa, whose shrine at puri is visited by some, while others take vows in the name of the god. on the day of the car festival at puri, local car festivals are held in gavara villages, and women carry out the performance of their vows. a woman, for example, who is under a vow, in order that she may be cured of illness or bear children, takes a big pot of water, and, placing it on her head, dances frantically before the god, through whose influence the water which rises out of the pot falls back into it, instead of being spilt. the class of vaishnavite mendicants called dasari claims descent from a wealthy sudra, [ ] who, having no offspring, vowed that, if he was blessed with children, he would devote one to the service of the deity. he subsequently had many sons, one of whom he named dasan, and placed entirely at the service of the god. dasan forfeited all claim to his father's estate, and his descendants are therefore all beggars. [ ] in a note on the dasaris of mysore, [ ] it is stated that "they become dasas or servants dedicated to the god at tirupati by virtue of a peculiar vow, made either by themselves or their relatives at some moment of anxiety or danger, and live by begging in his name. among certain castes (e.g., banajiga, tigala, and vakkaliga), the custom of taking a vow to become a dasari prevails. in fulfilment of that vow, the person becomes a dasari, and his eldest son is bound to follow suit." it may be noted that, in the canarese country, a custom obtains among the bedars and some other castes, under which a family which has no male issue must dedicate one of its daughters as a basavi. [ ] the girl is taken to the temple, and married to the god, a tali (marriage badge) and toe-rings being put on her. thenceforward she becomes a public woman, except that she should not consort with any one of lower caste than herself. it may be added that a basavi usually lives faithfully with one man, and she works for her family as hard as any other woman. married couples, to whom offspring is born after the performance of a vow, sometimes name it after the deity whose aid has been invoked, such as srinivasa at tirupati, lakshminarasimha at sholingur, or some other local god or goddess. at negapatam, some hindus make vows to the miran (muhammadan saint) of nagur, and name their child after him. the name thus given is not, however, used in every-day life, but abandoned like the ceremonial name given prior to the hindu upanayana ceremony. in the telugu country, the poorer classes of hindus sometimes promise that, if a son is born to them, they will call him after a muhammadan fakir, and, consequently, it is far from uncommon to find a hindu named fakirgadu or fakirappa, with a hindu termination to a muhammadan commencement. [ ] it has been noted (p. ) that some pilgrims to the shrine at palni have a skewer piercing both cheeks. it is recorded by bishop whitehead [ ] that "devotees go to the shrine of durgamma at bellary with silver pins about six inches long thrust through their cheeks, and with a lighted lamp in a brass dish on their head. on arriving before the shrine, they place the lamp on the ground, and the pin is removed, and offered to the goddess." the bishop was told that the object of this ceremony is to enable the devotee to come to the shrine with a concentrated mind. a common form of vow made to mariamman at pappakkalpatti in the trichinopoly district is a promise to stick little iron skewers into the body. in performance of vows, the sedans and kaikolans (weaver castes) pierce some part of the body with a spear. the latter thrust a spear through the muscles of the abdomen in honour of their god saha-nayanar at ratnagiri. at the annual festival of the goddess gangamma at tirupati, a kaikolan devotee dances before the goddess, and, when he is worked up to the proper pitch of frenzy, a metal wire is passed through the middle of his tongue. it is believed that the operation causes no pain or bleeding, and the only remedy adopted is the chewing of margosa (melia azadirachta) leaves and some kunkumam (red powder) of the goddess. if, during a temple car procession, the car refuses to move, the viramushtis (lingayat mendicants), who are guardians of the idol, cut themselves with their swords until it is set in motion. there is a proverb that the siva brahman (temple priest) eats well, whereas the viramushti hurts himself with the sword, and suffers much. the viramushtis are said, in former days, to have performed a ceremony called pavadam. when an orthodox lingayat was insulted, he would swallow his lingam, and lie flat on the ground in front of the house of the offender, who had to collect some lingayats, and send for a viramushti. he had to arrive accompanied by a pregnant viramushti woman, priests of draupadi, pachaiamman, and pothuraja temples, some individuals from the nearest lingayat mutt, and others. arrived at the house, the pregnant woman would sit down in front of the person lying on the ground. with his sword the viramushti man then made cuts in his scalp and chest, and sprinkled the recumbent man with the blood. he would then rise, and the lingam would come out of his mouth. mondi mendicants, when engaged in begging, cut the skin of the thighs with a knife, lie down and beat their chest with a stone, vomit, roll in the dust or mud, and throw ordure into the houses of those who will not contribute alms. it was noted, in a recent report of the banganapalle state, that an inam (grant of rent-free land) was held on condition of the holder "ripping open his stomach" at a certain festival. a vow performed in honour of the village goddess at settikulam in the trichinopoly district is for the votaries, male and female, to fling themselves on heaps of thorns before her. this vow is generally fulfilled by those cured of disease. it is called mullu padagalam, or bed of thorns. [ ] at the annual fire-walking festival at nuvagode in ganjam, the officiating priest sits on a seat of sharp thorns. it is noticed [ ] by the missionary gloyer that, on special occasions, some dombs in vizagapatam fall into a frenzied state, in which they cut their flesh with sharp instruments, or pass long, thin iron bars through the tongue and cheeks, during which operation no blood must flow. for this purpose, the instruments are rubbed over with some blood-congealing material. they also affect sitting on a sacred swing, armed with long iron nails. mr g. f. paddison informs me that he once saw a villager in the vizagapatam district sitting outside the house, while groans proceeded from within. he explained that he was ill, and his wife was swinging on nails with their points upwards, to cure him. in the tanjore district, persons afflicted with disease promise that, if they are cured, they will brand their bodies, go round a temple a certain number of times by rolling over and over in the dust, and offer a pregnant goat by stabbing it through the womb. sometimes vows of self-mortification are taken in anticipation of relief. such are undertaking to go without salt in one's food, or to eat without using the hands, until a cure is effected. [ ] at palni in the madura district, there is an annual feast at the mariamman temple, at which people, in performance of a vow, carry in their bare hands earthen pots with a bright fire blazing inside them. they are said to escape burns by the favour of the goddess, but it is whispered that immunity is sometimes rendered doubly sure by putting sand or rice-husk at the bottom of the pot. [ ] some dasaris (religious mendicants) go through a performance called panda servai, which consists in beating themselves with a flaming torch all over the body. i am informed by mr paddison that some dombs are reputed to be able to pour blazing oil all over their bodies, without suffering any hurt; and one man is said to have had a miraculous power of hardening his skin, so that any one could have a free shot at him without hurting him. in the melur taluk of the madura district, it is stated that women who are anxious for offspring vow that, if they attain their wish, they will go and have a cocoanut broken on their head by a priest at the temple of sendurai. [ ] at an annual festival in honour of the god servarayan on the shevaroy hills in the salem district, those malayalis who wish to take a vow to be faithful to their god have to receive fifteen lashes on the bare back with a stout leather thong, administered by the chief priest. the annual festival at the temple of karamadai in the coimbatore district is visited by about forty or fifty thousand pilgrims, belonging for the most part to the lower classes. in case of sickness or other calamity, they take a vow to perform one of the following:-- ( ) to pour water at the feet of the idol inside the temple. each devotee is provided with a goat-skin bag, or a new earthen pot. he goes to the tank, and, after bathing, fills the receptacle with water, carries it to the temple, and empties it before the idol. this is repeated a number of times according to the nature of the vow. if the vow is a life-long one, it has to be performed every year until death. ( ) to give kavalam to dasaris (religious mendicants). kavalam consists of plantain fruits cut up into small slices, and mixed with sugar, jaggery (crude sugar), fried grain, or beaten rice. the dasaris are attached to the temple, and wear short drawers, with strings of small brass bells tied to their wrists and ankles. they appear to be possessed, and move wildly about to the beating of drums. as they go about, the devotees put some of the kavalam into their mouths. the dasaris eat a little, and spit out the remainder into the hands of the devotees, who eat it. this is believed to cure all disease, and to give children to those who partake of it. in addition to kavalam, some put betel leaves in the mouths of the dasaris, who, after chewing them, spit them into the mouths of the devotees. at night the dasaris carry torches made of rags, on which the devotees pour ghi (clarified butter). some people say that, many years ago, barren women used to take a vow to visit the temple at the time of the festival, and, after offering kavalam, have sexual intercourse with the dasaris. the temple authorities, however, profess ignorance of this practice. on the last day of the gangajatra festival at tirupati, a figure is made of clay and straw, and placed in the tope (grove), where crowds of all classes, including paraiyans, present food to it. buffaloes, goats, sheep, and fowls are sacrificed, and it is said that brahmans, though they will not be present, send animals to be slaughtered. at the conclusion of the festivities, the image is burnt during the feast, which last over ten days, the lower orders of the people paint themselves, and indulge in much boisterous merriment. those who have made a vow to ganga fast for some days before the festival begins. they wear a structure made of bamboo in the form of a car, which is decorated with paper of different colours, and supported by iron nails pressed into the belly and back. they go about with this structure on their heads. those who have been attacked by cholera, or other serious disease, make a vow to ganga, and perform this ceremonial. a festival, which is attended by huge crowds of hindus of all classes, takes place annually in the month of audi (july-august) at the village of periyapalayam, about sixteen miles from madras, where the goddess mariamma is worshipped under the name of periyapalayaththamman. according to the legend, as narrated by the rev. a. c. clayton, [ ] "there was once a rishi (sage), who lived on the banks of the periyapalayam river with his wife bavani. every morning she used to bathe in the river, and bring back water for the use of the household. but she never took any vessel with her in which to bring the water home, for she was so chaste that she had acquired power to form a water-pot out of the dry river sand, and carry the water home in it. one day, while bathing, she saw the reflection of the face of the sky-god, indra, in the water, and could not help admiring it. when she returned to the bank of the river, and tried to form her water-pot out of sand as usual, she could not do so, for her admiration of indra had ruined her power, and she went home sadly to fetch a brass water-vessel. her husband saw her carrying this to the river, and at once suspected her of unchastity, and, calling his son, ordered him to strike off her head with a sword. it was in vain that the son tried to avoid matricide. he had to obey, but he was so agitated by his feelings that, when at last he struck at his mother, he cut off not only her head, but that of a leather-dresser's wife who was standing near. the two bodies lay side by side. the rishi was so pleased with his son's obedience that he promised him any favour that he should ask, but he was very angry when the son at once begged that his mother might be restored to life. being compelled to keep his word, he told the son that, if he put his mother's head on her trunk, she would again live. the son tried to do so, but in his haste took up the head of the leather-dresser's wife by mistake, and put it on bavani's body. leather-dressers are flesh-eaters, and so it comes about that, on days when her festival is celebrated, bavani--now a goddess--longs for meat, and thousands of sheep, goats, and fowls, must be slain at her shrine. this legend bears marks of brahmanic influence. curiously enough, the priest of this paraiya shrine is himself a brahman." the vows, which are performed at the festival at periyapalayam, are as follows:-- ( ) wearing a garment of margosa (melia azadirachta) leaves, or wearing an ordinary garment, and carrying a lighted lamp made of rice-flour on the head. ( ) carrying a pot decorated with flowers and margosa leaves round the temple. ( ) going round the temple, rolling on the ground. ( ) throwing a live fowl on to the top of the temple. ( ) throwing a cocoanut in front, prostrating on the ground in salutation, going forward several paces and again throwing the cocoanut, and repeating the procedure till three circuits of the temple have been made. ( ) giving offerings to the idol parasurama, cradle with baby made of clay or wood, etc., to bring offspring to the childless, success in a lawsuit or business transaction, and other good luck. in addition, pongal (boiled rice) has to be offered, and by some a sheep or goat is sacrificed. if a vow has been made on behalf of a sick cow, the animal is bathed in the river, clad in margosa leaves, and led round the temple. the leaf-wearing vow is resorted to by the large majority of the devotees, and performed by men, women and children. those belonging to the more respectable classes go through it in the early morning, before the crowd has collected in its tens of thousands. the leafy garments are purchased from hawkers, who do a brisk trade in the sale thereof. the devotees have to pay a modest fee for admission to the temple precincts, and go round the shrine three or more times. concerning the periyapalayam festival, a recent writer observes that, "the distinctive feature is that the worshippers are clad in leaves. the devotees are bound to wear a garment made of fresh margosa twigs with their leaves. this garment is called vepansilai. it consists of a string three or four yards long, from which depend, at intervals of two to three inches apart, twigs measuring about two feet in length, and forming a fringe of foliage. this string being wound several times round the waist, the fringe of leaves forms a kilt or short petticoat. men are content to wear the kilt, but women also wear round their neck a similar garment, which forms a short cloak reaching to the waist. to impress on devotees the imperative obligation imposed on them to wear the leaf garment in worshipping the goddess, it is said that a young married woman, being without children, made a vow to the goddess that, on obtaining a son, she would go on a pilgrimage to periyapalayam, and worship her in accordance with the ancient rite. her prayer having been answered, she gave birth to a son, and went to periyapalayam to fulfil her vow. when, however, it was time to undress and put on the vepansilai, her modesty revolted. unobserved by her party, she secretly tied a cloth round her waist before putting on the vepansilai. so attired, she went to the temple to worship. on seeing her coming, the goddess detected her deceit, and, waxing wroth, set the woman's dress all ablaze, and burnt her so severely that she died." it is noted by bishop whitehead [ ] that it was formerly the custom for women to come to the shrine of durgamma at bellary clad in twigs of the margosa tree. but this is now only done by children, the grown-up women putting the margosa twigs over a cloth wrapped round the loins. at a festival of the village goddess at kudligi in the bellary district, the procession is said by mr f. fawcett to be headed by a madiga (telugu pariah) naked save for a few margosa leaves. the wearing of these leaves on the occasion of festivals in honour of mariamma is a very general custom throughout southern india. garments made of leaves are still worn by the females of some tribes on the west coast, e.g., the thanda pulayans, vettuvans, and koragas. concerning the koragas, mr walhouse writes [ ] that they "wear an apron of twigs and leaves over the buttocks. once this was the only covering allowed them, and a mark of their deep degradation. but now, when no longer compulsory, and of no use, as it is worn over the clothes, the women still retain it, believing its disuse would be unlucky." "kuvvakkam in the south arcot district is known for its festival to aravan (more correctly iravan) or kuttandar, which is one of the most popular feasts with sudras in the whole district. aravan was the son of arjuna, one of the five pandava brothers. local traditions says that, when the great war which is described in the mahabharata was about to begin, the kauravas, the opponents of the pandavas, to bring them success, sacrificed a white elephant. the pandavas were in despair of being able to find any such uncommon object with which to propitiate the gods, until arjuna suggested that they should offer up his son aravan. aravan agreed to yield his life for the good of the cause, and, when eventually the pandavas were victorious, he was deified for the self-abnegation which had thus brought his side success. since he died in his youth, before he had been married, it is held to please him if men, even though grown up and already wedded, come now and offer to espouse him, and men who are afflicted with serious diseases take a vow to marry him at his annual festival in the hope of thereby being cured. the festival occurs in may, and for eighteen nights the mahabharata is recited by a palli (tamil agriculturist), [ ] large numbers of people, especially of that caste, assembling to hear it read. on the eighteenth night, a wooden image of kuttandar is taken to a tope (grove) and seated there. this is the signal for the sacrifice of an enormous number of fowls. every one who comes brings one or two, and the number killed runs literally into thousands. while this is going on, all the men who have taken vows to be married to the deity appear before his image dressed like women, make obeisance, offer to the priest (who is a palli by caste) a few annas, and give into his hands the talis (marriage badge worn by women) which they have brought with them. these the priest, as representing the god, ties round their necks. the god is brought back to his shrine that night, and, when in front of the building, he is hidden by a cloth held before him. this symbolises the sacrifice of aravan, and the men who have just been married to him set up loud lamentations at the death of their husband. similar vows are taken and ceremonies performed, it is said, at the shrines of kuttandar, two miles north-west of porto novo, and adivarahanattum (five miles north-west of chidambaram), and, in recent years, at tiruvarkkulam (one mile east of the latter place); other cases probably occur." [ ] i am informed by mr r. f. stoney that, in the madura district, iron chains are hung on babul (acacia arabica) trees, and dedicated to the rustic deity karuppan. at melur mr stoney saw large masses of such chains, which are made by the village blacksmiths. they are very rough, and are furnished at one end with what is said to be a sickle, and also a spear-head. i gather further [ ] that, in the melur taluk, the shrine of karuppan may usually be known by the hundreds of chains hung outside it, which have been presented to the god in performance of vows. the deity is said to be fond of bedecking himself with chains, and these offerings are usually suspended from a kind of horizontal bar made of two stone uprights supporting a slab of stone placed horizontally upon the top of them. the god is also fond of presents of clubs and swords. "sometimes," a recent writer states, "a big chain hangs suspended from a tree, and the village panchayats (tribunals) are held in the aiyanar (or sangali karuppan) temple. the accused is made to submit to an ordeal in proof of innocence. the ordeal consists in his swearing on the chain, which he is made to touch. he has such a dread of this procedure, that, as soon as he touches the chain, he comes out with the truth, failure to speak the truth being punished by some calamity, which he believes will overtake him within a week. these chains are also suspended to the trees near the temples of village goddesses, and used by village panchayats to swear the accused in any trial before them." it is narrated [ ] by moor that he "passed a tree, on which were hanging several hundred bells. this was a superstitious sacrifice by the bandjanahs, [ ] who, passing this tree, are in the habit of hanging a bell or bells upon it, which they take from the necks of their sick cattle, expecting to leave behind them the complaint also. our servants particularly cautioned us against touching these diabolical bells; but, as a few were taken for our own cattle, several accidents that happened were imputed to the anger of the deity to whom these offerings were made, who, they say, inflicts the same disorder on the unhappy bullock who carries a bell from this tree as he relieved the donor from." at diguvemetta in the kurnool district, i came across a number of bells, both large and small, tied to the branches of a tamarind tree, beneath which were an image of the deity malalamma, and a stone bull (nandi). suspended from a branch of the same tree was a thick rope, to which were attached heads, skulls, mandibles, thigh-bones, and feet of fowls, and the foot of a goat. mr fawcett once saw, at a savara village in ganjam, a gaily ornamented hut near a burning-ground. rude figures of birds and red rags were tied to five bamboos, which were sticking up in the air about eight feet above the hut, one at each corner, and one in the centre. a savara said that he built the hut for his dead brother, and had buried the bones in it. [ ] it is noted by the rev. j. cain [ ] that, in some places, the lambadis fasten rags torn from some old garment to a bush in honour of kampalamma (kampa, a thicket). on the side of a road from bastar are several large heaps of stones, which they have piled up in honour of the goddess guttalamma. every lambadi who passes the heaps is bound to place one stone on the heap, and make a salaam to it. it is further recorded by mr walhouse [ ] that, when going from the coimbatore plains to the mysore frontier, he saw a thorn-bush rising out of a heap of stones piled round it, and bearing bits of rag tied to its branches by lambadis. in the telugu country, rags are offered to a god named pathalayya (mr rags). on the trunk-roads in the nellore district, rags may be seen hanging from the babul (acacia arabica) trees. these are offerings made to pathalayya by travellers, who tear off pieces of their clothing with a vague idea that the offering thereof will render their journey free from accidents, such as upsetting of their carts, or meeting with robbers. outside the temple of the village goddess at ojini in the bellary district, mr fawcett tells us, [ ] "are hung numbers of miniature cradles and bangles presented by women who have borne children, or been cured of sickness through the intervention of the goddess. miniature cows are presented by persons whose cows have been cured of sickness, and doll-like figures for children. one swami (god) there is, known by a tree hung with iron chains, hooks--anything iron; another by rags, and so on. the ingenious dhobi (washerman), whose function is to provide torches on occasions, sometimes practises on the credulity of his countrymen by tying a few rags to a tree, which by and by is covered with rags, for the passers-by are not so stiff-necked as to ask for a sign other than a rag; and under cover of the darkness, the dhobi makes his torch of the offerings." on the road to the temple at tirumala (upper tirupati) in the north arcot district, the goddess gauthala gangamma has her abode in a margosa or avaram (cassia auriculata) tree, surrounded by a white-ant hill. passers-by tear off a piece of their clothing, and tie it to the branches, and place a small stone at the base of the ant-hill. occasionally cooked rice is offered, fowls are sacrificed, and their heads and legs tied to the tree. in the madura district, bits of rag are hung on the trees in which a deity named sattan is believed to reside. [ ] it is noted by mr w. francis [ ] that, "in some places in the south arcot district, for example, on the feeder road to the olakkur station in tindivanam taluk and near the eighth mile of the road from kallakurchi to vriddhachalam, are trees on which passers-by have hung bits of rag, until they are quite covered with them. the latter of the two cases had its origin only a few years back in the construction by some shepherd boys of a toy temple to ganesa formed of a few stones under the tree, to draw attention to which they hung up a rag or two. the tree is now quite covered with bits of cloth, and beneath it is a large pile of stones, which have been added one by one by the superstitious passers-by." it is recorded by the abbé dubois [ ] that "at palni, in madura, there is a famous temple consecrated to the god velayuda, whose devotees bring offerings of a peculiar kind, namely large sandals, beautifully ornamented, and similar in shape to those worn by the hindus on their feet. the god is addicted to hunting, and these shoes are intended for his use when he traverses the jungles and deserts in pursuit of his favourite sport. such shabby gifts, one might think, would go very little way towards filling the coffers of the priests of velayuda. nothing of the sort: brahmins always know how to reap profit from anything. accordingly the new sandals are rubbed on the ground and rolled a little in the dust, and are then exposed to the eyes of the pilgrims who visit the temple. it is clear enough that the sandals must have been worn on the divine feet of velayuda; and they become the property of whosoever pays the highest price for such holy relics." mr walhouse informs us [ ] that the champak and other trees round the ancient shrine of the trimurti at the foot of the anaimalai mountains are thickly hung with sandals and shoes, many of huge size, evidently made for the purpose, and suspended by pilgrims as votive offerings. the god of the temple at tirumala is said to appear annually to four persons in different directions, east, west, south and north, and informs them that he requires a shoe from each of them. they whitewash their houses, worship the god, and spread rice-flour thickly on the floor of a room, which is locked for the night. next morning the mark of a huge foot is found on the floor, and the shoe has to be made to fit this. when ready, it is taken in procession through the streets of the village, conveyed to tirumala, and presented to the temple. though the makers of the shoes have worked in ignorance of each others' work, the shoes brought from the north and south, and those from the east and west, are believed to match and make a pair. though the worship of these shoes is chiefly meant for paraiyans, who are prohibited from ascending the tirupati hill, as a matter of fact all, without distinction of caste, worship them. the shoes are placed in front of the image of the god near the foot of the hill, and are said to gradually wear away by the end of the year. "at belur in the mysore province," mr lewis rice writes, [ ] "the god of the temple is under the necessity of making an occasional trip to the baba budan hills to visit the goddess. on these occasions he is said to make use of a large pair of slippers kept for the purpose in the temple. when they are worn out, it devolves upon the chucklers (leather-workers) of channagiri and bisvapatna, to whom the fact is revealed in a dream, to provide new ones." in order to present the slippers, they are allowed to enter the courtyard of the temple. on the way leading up to the temple at tirumala, small stones heaped up in the form of a hearth, and knots tied in the leaves of young date-palms may be seen. these are the work of virgins who accompany the parties of pilgrims. the knots are tied to ensure the tying of the marriage tali string on their necks, and the heaping up of the stones is done with a view to ensuring the birth of children to them. if the girls revisit the hill after marriage and the birth of offspring, they untie the knot on a leaf, and disarrange one of the hearths. men cause their name to be cut on rocks by the wayside, or on the stones with which the path leading to the temple is paved, in the belief that good luck will result if their name is trodden on by some pious man. at tirupati, a number of balijas are engaged in the red sanders (pterocarpus santalinus) wood-carving industry. figures of deities, mythological figures, miniature temple cars, and domestic utensils, are among the articles turned out by them. vessels made of red sanders wood carry no pollution, and can be used by women during the menstrual period, and taken back to the house without any purification ceremony. for the same reason, sanyasis (ascetics) use such vessels for performing worship. the carved figures are sold to pilgrims and others who visit tirupati, and are also taken for sale to conjeeveram, madura, and other places, at times when important temple festivals are celebrated. carved wooden figurines, male and female, represented in a state of nudity, are also manufactured at tirupati, and sold to hindus. those who are childless perform on them the ear-boring ceremony, in the belief that, as the result thereof, issue will be born to them. or, if there are grown-up boys or girls in a family, who remain unmarried, the parents celebrate the marriage ceremony between a pair of figurines, in the hope that the marriage of their children will speedily follow. they dress up the dolls in clothes and jewelry, and go through the ceremonial of a real marriage. some there are who have spent as much money on a doll's wedding as on a wedding in real life. the simplest form of offerings consists of fruits, such as plantains and cocoanuts. without an offering of fruit no orthodox hindu would think of entering a temple, or coming into the presence of a native of position. the procession of servants and retainers, each bringing a gift of a lime fruit, on new year's day is familiar to anglo-indians. by the rules of government, framed with a view to preventing bribery, the prohibition of the receipt of presents from native chiefs and others does not extend to the receipt of a few flowers or fruits, and articles of inappreciable value, although even such trifling presents should be discouraged. as a thanksgiving for recovery from illness, votive offerings frequently take the form of silver or gold representations of the part of the body affected, which are deposited in a vessel kept for the purpose at the temple. they are kept for sale in the vicinity of the temple, and must be offered by the person who has taken the vow, or on whose behalf it has been taken. when a person has been ill all over, a silver human figure, or a thin silver wire of the same length as himself, and representing him, is sometimes offered. of silver offerings from temples in the tamil country, the madras museum possesses an extensive collection, in which are included the face, hands, feet, buttocks, tongue, larynx, navel, nose, ears, eyes, breasts, genitalia, etc.; snakes offered to propitiate the anger of serpents, snakes coiled in coitu, sandals, flags, umbrellas, and cocoanuts strung on a pole. when litigation arises in malabar in connection with the title to a house and compound (grounds) in which it stands, a vow is sometimes made to offer a silver model representing the property, if a favourable decree is obtained. some time ago, a rich landlord offered at the temple a silver model representing the exact number of trees, house, well, etc., and costing several hundreds of rupees, when a suit was decided in his favour. in connection with the temple at guruvayur in malabar, mr fawcett writes as follows [ ]:-- "i visited the festival on one occasion, and purchase was made of a few offerings such as are made to the temple in satisfaction of vows--a very rude representation of an infant in silver, a hand, a leg, an ulcer, a pair of eyes, and, most curious of all, a silver string which represents a man, the giver. goldsmiths working in silver and gold are to be seen just outside the gate of the temple, ready to provide at a moment's notice the object that any person intends to offer, in case he is not already in possession of his votive offering." a nayar examined by mr fawcett was wearing a silver ring as a vow, which was to be given up at the next festival at kottiur in north malabar. another was wearing a silver bangle. he had a wound in his arm which was long in healing, so he made a vow to the god at tirupati (tirumala) that, if his arm was healed, he would give up the bangle at the temple. a few years ago, a shrine was erected at cochin for a picture of the virgin and child, which attained to great celebrity for its power of working miracles. "many stories," mr fawcett writes, [ ] "of the power of the picture are current. a fisherman, who had lost his nets, vowed to give a little net, if they were found. the votive offerings, which are sometimes of copper or brass, take strange forms. there are fishes, prawns, rice, cocoanut trees, cows, etc. a little silver model of a bridge was given by a contractor, who vowed, when he found his foundations were shaky, to give it if his work should pass muster. the power of the picture is such that the votaries are not confined to the christian community. there are among them many hindus and mahomedans." in south canara, silver rats and pigs are offered to protect the crops from destruction by these animals. silver rice-grains are offered when children do not take their food properly, and silver sheaves of grain if the crop is abundant. at pyka, brass or clay figures of the tiger, leopard, elephant, wild boar, and bandicoot rat, are presented at the shrine of a female bhutha [ ] named poomanikunhoomani, to protect the crops and cattle from the ravages of these animals. the figures must be solid, as the bhuthas would be very angry if they were hollow. a brass figure of sarabha, a mythological eight-legged animal, which is supposed to be the vehicle of the god virabhadra, is presented as an offering to some siva temples in south canara in cases where a person is attacked with a form of ulcer known as siva's ulcer. sometimes a silver lizard is offered at temples, to counteract the evils which would result from a lizard falling on some unlucky part of the body, such as the kudumi (hair knot) of a female. the lizard, associated with the name of siva, is regarded as sacred. it is never intentionally killed, and, if accidentally hurt or killed, an image of it in gold or silver is presented by high caste hindus to a siva temple. [ ] in malabar, a brahman magician transfers the spirits of those who have died an unnatural death to images made of gold, silver, or wood, which are placed in a temple or special building erected for them. it is said by mr f. fawcett, "to be a sacred duty to a deceased tiyan in malabar, who was of importance, for example, the head of a family, to have a silver image of him made, and arrange for it being deposited in some temple, where it will receive its share of worship, and offerings of food and water. the temples at tirunelli in wynad and tirunavayi, which are among the oldest in malabar, were generally the resting-places of these images, but now some of the well-to-do deposit them much further afield, even at benares and ramesvaram. a silver image is presented to the local siva temple, where, for a consideration, worship is done every new moon day. on each of these days, mantrams are supposed to be repeated a thousand times. when the image has been the object of these mantrams sixteen thousand times, it is supposed to have become eligible for final deposit at tirunavayi or elsewhere." if a muhammadan suffers from severe pain in the hand or foot, a vow is sometimes taken to the effect that a silver hand or foot will be taken to the grave of some saint, and put into the treasury which is kept there to meet the expenses of the annual ceremonies of the saint. at vizagapatam [ ] there is a celebrated muhammadan saint, who lies buried by the durga on the top of the hill overlooking the harbour. he is considered to be all potent over the elements of the bay of bengal, and many a silver dhoni (native boat) is presented at his shrine by hindu ship-owners after a successful voyage. a suit once arose between a komati boat-owner and his muhammadan captain during settlement of the accounts. the captain stated that, during a storm off the coast of arakan, he had vowed a purse of rupees to the saint, and had duly presented it on his return. this sum he charged to the owner of the vessel, whose sole contention was that the vow had never been discharged; the propriety of conciliating the saint in a hurricane he allowed. at timmancherla in the anantapur district there is a tomb of a holy muhammadan named masthan ali, in whose honour a religious ceremony is held annually in april, which is attended by both muhammadans and hindus. the latter make vows at the tomb, which has a special reputation for granting offspring to the childless. the headman of the village, who is a hindu, brings the first offerings in procession with much ceremony. [ ] at the annual festival at the temple at nedamangad in travancore, which is attended by large numbers of the lower classes, the worshippers are said by the rev. s. mateer [ ] to "bring with them wooden models of cows covered, in imitation of shaggy hair, with ears of rice. many of these images are brought, each in a separate procession from its own place. the headmen are finely dressed with cloths stained purple at the edge. the image is borne on a bamboo frame, accompanied by a drum," and carried round the temple. the gudigars (wood-carvers) at udipi in south canara make life-size wooden buffaloes and large human figures as votive offerings for the iswara temple at hiriadkap, where they are set up in a row. by the savaras of vizagapatam, rudely carved and grotesque wooden representations of human beings, monkeys, lizards, parrots, peacocks, guns, pickaxes, daggers, etc., are dedicated to the tribal deity. they would not sell them to the district officer who acquired them on my behalf, but parted with them on the understanding that they would be worshipped by the sirkar (government). in like manner, the fishermen of the ganjam coast objected to specimens of the gods which are placed in little shrines on the sea-shore being sent to me, till they were told that it was because the government had heard of their devotion to their gods that they wanted to have some of them in madras. the gods, which are made in clay and wood, include bengali babu riding on a black horse, who is believed to bless the fishermen, secure large hauls of fish for them, and protect them against danger when out fishing. it has been observed that this affinity between the ganjam fishermen and the bengali babu, resulting in the apotheosis of the latter, is certainly a striking example of the catholicity of hero-worship, and it would be interesting to know how long, and for what reasons the conception of protection has appealed to the followers of the piscatory industry. it was sir george campbell, the lieutenant-governor of bengal, who compelled his bengali officials, much against their inclination, to cultivate the art of equitation. i am informed by mr g. v. ramamurthi pantulu that the savaras attend the markets or fairs held in the plains, or at the foot of the ghats, to purchase salt and other articles. if a savara is taken ill at the market or on his return thence, he attributes the illness to a spirit of the market called biradi sonum. the bulls which carry the goods of the hindu merchants to the market are supposed to convey the spirit. in propitiating it, the savara makes an image of a bull in straw, and, taking it out of his village, leaves it on the footpath, after a pig has been sacrificed. owners of cattle take the animals when sick round the sacred hill at tirukazhukunram in performance of a vow, in the belief that their health will be thus restored. "a brahmini bull," mr a. srinivasan writes, "is dedicated to the god venkateswara of tirupati, for the benefit of the living in fulfilment of vows. the act of dedication and release is preceded by elaborate rituals of marriage, as among men and women. the bride, which should be a heifer that has not calved, is furnished by the father-in-law of the donor. the heifer is united in holy wedlock to the bullock, after formal chanting of mantrams, by the tying of the tali and toe-rings to the neck. in this sham marriage, the profuse ornamentation of the couple with saffron (turmeric) and red powder, the pouring of rice on their heads, and a procession through the streets with music, are conspicuous features." i am told that, if the devotee cannot afford a live animal, a mimic representative is made in rice. painted hollow images are made by special families of kusavans (potters) known as pujari (priest), who, for the privilege of making them, have to pay an annual fee to the headman, who spends it on a festival at the caste temple. when a married couple are anxious to have female offspring, they take a vow to offer figures of the seven virgins (saptha kannimar), who are represented all seated in a row. if a male or female recovers from cholera, smallpox, or other severe illness, a figure of the corresponding sex is offered. a childless woman makes a vow to offer up the figure of a baby, if she brings forth offspring. figures of animals--cattle, horses, sheep, etc.--are offered at the temple when they recover from sickness, or are recovered after they have been stolen. horses made of clay, painted red and other colours, are set up in the fields to drive away demons, or as a thank-offering for recovery from sickness, or any piece of good luck. the villagers erect these horses in honour of the popular deity ayanar, the guardian deity of the fields, who is a renowned huntsman, and is believed, when, with his wives purna and pushkala, he visits the village at night, to mount the horses, and ride down the demons. ayanar is said [ ] to be the special deity of the kusavan caste. kusavans are generally the pujaris at his temples, and they make the earthenware, and brick and mortar horses and images, which are placed before these buildings. the pupils of the eyes of the various images are not painted in till they are taken to the temple, where offerings of fruit, etc., are first made. even the pupils of a series of images which were specially made for me were not painted at the potter's house, but in the verandah of the traveller's bungalow where i was staying. a very interesting account of the netra mangalya, or ceremony of painting the eyes of images, as performed by craftsmen in ceylon, has been published by mr a. k. coomaraswamy. [ ] therein he writes that "by far the most important ceremony connected with the building and decoration of a vihara (temple), or with its renovation, was the actual netra mangalya or eye ceremonial. the ceremony had to be performed in the case of any image, whether set up in a vihara or not. even in the case of flat paintings it was necessary. d. s. muhandiram, when making for me a book of drawings of gods according to the rupavaliya, left the eyes to be subsequently inserted on an auspicious occasion, with some simpler form of the ceremony described." on this subject, knox writes as follows [ ]:-- "some, being devoutly disposed, will make the image of this god (buddha) at their own charge. for the making whereof they must bountifully reward the founder. before the eyes are made, it is not accounted a god, but a lump of ordinary metal, and thrown about the shop with no more regard than anything else. but, when the eyes are to be made, the artificer is to have a good gratification, besides the first agreed upon reward. the eyes being formed, it is thenceforward a god. and then, being brought with honour from the workman's shop, it is dedicated by solemnities and sacrifices, and carried with great state into the shrine or little house, which is before built and prepared for it." putting money into a receptacle (undi) as an offering to a particular deity is a very common custom. in the case of a popular god, such as the one at tirumala, an earthen pot is sometimes replaced by a copper money-box or iron safe. in south canara there was a well-to-do family, the members of which kept on depositing coins in the family undi, which were set apart for the tirumala god during a number of generations. not only in cases of sickness, but even when a member of the family went to a neighbouring village, and returned safely, a few coins were put into the undi. for some reason, the opening of the undi, and offering of its contents at tirumala, was postponed, and, when it was finally opened, it was found to contain a miscellaneous collection of coins, current and uncurrent. when a temple is far away, and those who wish to make offerings thereat cannot, owing to the expense of the journey or other reason, go there themselves, the offerings are taken by a substitute. if the god to whom the offering is made is srinivasa of tirumala, a small sum of money must be offered as compensation for not taking it in person. the god is sometimes called vaddi kasulu varu, in allusion to the money (kasu) or interest. in some large towns, in the months of july and august, parties of devotees may be seen wandering about the streets, and collecting offerings to the god, which will be presented to him in due course. if a kelasi (barber) in south canara is seriously ill, he sometimes undertakes a vow to beg from door to door, and convey the money thus collected to tirumala. in his house he keeps a small closed box with a slit in the lid, through which he drops a coin at every stroke of misfortune, and the contents are eventually sent to the holy shrine. [ ] a few years ago, a native complained to the police that about seven hundred rupees had been stolen from some brass pots, which he kept in a separate room of his house. the money, he stated, was dedicated to the tirumula temple, and was kept in the pots buried in paddy (unhusked rice). he himself had put in about fifty rupees during the time that the pots had been in his charge, either as an annual contribution, or on occasions of sickness. his mother stated that it had been a custom in the family to put money into the vessel for several generations, and she had never seen the pots opened. it is whispered that kallan dacoits invoke the aid of their deity alagarswami, when they are setting out on marauding expeditions, and, if they are successful therein, put part of their ill-gotten gains into the offertory box, which is kept at his shrine. [ ] in this connection, the rev. j. sharrock states that "there is an understanding that, if their own village gods help them in their thefts, they are to have a fair share of the spoil, and, on the principle of honour among thieves, the bargain is always kept. when strange deities are met with on their thieving expeditions, it is usual to make a vow that, if the adventure turns out well, part of the spoil shall next day be left at the shrine of the god, or be handed over to the pujari of that particular deity. they are afraid that, if this precaution be not taken, the god may make them blind, or cause them to be discovered, or may go so far as to knock them down, and leave them to bleed to death." the most popular of the muhammadan saints who are buried at porto novo, where a considerable number of marakkayars (muhammadans) are engaged as sailors, "is one malumiyar, who was apparently in his lifetime a notable sea-captain. his fame as a sailor has been magnified into the miraculous, and it is declared that he owned ten or a dozen ships, and used to appear in command of all of them simultaneously. he has now the reputation of being able to deliver from danger those who go down to the sea in ships, and sailors setting out on a voyage, or returning from one in safety, usually put an offering in the little box kept at his darga, and these sums are expended in keeping that building lighted and whitewashed. another curious darga in the town is that of araikasu nachiyar, or the one pie lady. offerings to her must on no account be worth more than one pie ( / of a rupee); tributes in excess of that value are of no effect. if sugar for so small an amount cannot be procured, the devotee spends the money on chunam (lime) for her tomb, and this is consequently covered with a superabundance of whitewash. stories are told of the way in which the valuable offerings of rich men have altogether failed to obtain her favour, and have had to be replaced by others of the regulation diminutive dimensions." [ ] the chief god of the dombs of vizagapatam is said [ ] to be represented by a pie piece placed in or over a new earthen pot smeared with rice and turmeric powder. it is said [ ] that muhammadans, belonging to the lower classes, consult panchangam brahmans about the chances of success in their enterprises. some of these brahmans send half the fee so obtained to the muhammadan mosque at nagur near negapatam, and will even offer sugar and flowers at that shrine, though they endeavour to excuse the act by saying that the saint was originally a brahman. i once saw a muhammadan at tumkur in mysore, whither he had journeyed from hyderabad, who had a rupee tied round his arm in token of a vow that, if he returned safe from plague and other ills to his own country, he would give money in charity. when a muhammadan falls ill, a rupee and a quarter is sometimes done up in a red cloth, and tied round the arm, to be given to the poor on recovery. members of the poorer classes tie an anna and a quarter in like manner, after performing a fateha ceremony. should the sickness of a hindu be attributed to a god or goddess, a vow is made, in token whereof a copper or silver coin is wrapped up in a piece of cloth dipped in turmeric paste, and kept in the house, or tied to the neck or arm of the sick person. a cock may be waved round the head of the patient, and afterwards reared in the house, to be eventually offered up at the shrine of the deity. a bedar, whom i saw at hospet in the bellary district, had a quarter anna rolled up in cotton cloth, which he wore on the upper arm in performance of a vow. in an account of the cock festival at cranganore in malabar, whereat vast numbers of cocks are sacrificed, mr gopal panikkar records [ ] that, "when a man is taken ill of any infectious disease, his relations generally pray to the goddess (at cranganore) for his recovery, solemnly covenanting to perform what goes by the name of a thulabharam (or thulupurushadanam) [ ] ceremony. this consists in placing the patient in one of the scale-pans of a huge balance, and weighing him against gold, or, more generally, pepper (and sometimes other substances), deposited in the other scale-pan. then this weight of the substance is offered to the goddess. this has to be performed right in front of the goddess in the temple yard." at mulki in south canara there is a temple of venkateswara, which is maintained by konkani brahmans. a konkani brahman, who is attached to the temple, becomes inspired almost daily between and a.m., immediately after worship, and people consult him. some time ago, a rich merchant from gujarat consulted the inspired man as to what steps should be taken to enable his wife to be safely delivered. he was told to take a vow that he would present to the god of the temple, silver, sugar-candy, and date fruits, equal in weight to that of his wife. this he did, and his wife was delivered of a male child. the cost of the ceremonial is said to have been five thousand rupees. in the thulabharam ceremony as performed by the maharajas of travancore, [ ] they are weighed against gold coins, called thulabhara kasu, specially struck for the occasion, which are divided among the priests who performed the ceremony, and brahmans. the following quaint custom, which is observed at the village of pullambadi in the trichinopoly district, is described by bishop whitehead. [ ] "the goddess kulanthal amman has established for herself a useful reputation as a settler of debts. when a creditor cannot recover a debt, he writes down his claim on a scroll of palm-leaves, and offers the goddess a part of the debt, if it is paid. the palmyra scroll is hung up on an iron spear in the compound of the temple before the shrine. if the claim is just, and the debtor does not pay, it is believed that he will be afflicted with sickness and bad dreams. in his dreams he will be told to pay the debt at once, if he wishes to be freed from his misfortunes. if, however, the debtor disputes the claim, he draws up a counter-statement, and hangs it on the same spear. then the deity decides which claim is true, and afflicts with sickness and bad dreams the man whose claim is false. when a claim is acknowledged, the debtor brings the money, and gives it to the pujari, who places it before the image of kulanthal amman, and sends word to the creditor. the whole amount is then handed over to the creditor, who pays the sum vowed to the goddess into the temple coffers in april or may. so great is the reputation of the goddess, that hindus come from about ten miles round to seek her aid in recovering their debts. the goddess may sometimes make mistakes, but, at any rate, it is cheaper than an appeal to an ordinary court of law, and probably almost as effective as a means of securing justice. in former times, no written statements were presented; people simply came and represented their claims by word of mouth to the deity, promising to give her a share. the custom of presenting written claims sprang up about thirty years ago, doubtless through the influence of the civil courts. apparently more debts have been collected since this was done, and more money has been gathered into the treasury." it is noted by the rev. a. margöschis [ ] that "the hindus observe a special day at the commencement of the palmyra season (in tinnevelly), when the jaggery season begins. bishop caldwell adopted the custom, and a solemn service in church was held, when one set of all the implements used in the occupation of palmyra-climbing was brought to the church, and presented at the altar. only the day was changed from that observed by the hindus. the perils of the palmyra-climber are great, and there are many fatal accidents by falling from trees forty to sixty feet high, so that a religious service of the kind was particularly acceptable and peculiarly appropriate to our people." the story is told by bishop caldwell of a shanar (toddy-drawer) who was sitting upon a leaf-stalk at the top of a palmyra palm in a high wind, when the stalk gave way, and he came down to the ground safely and quietly sitting on the leaf, which served the purpose of a natural parachute. the festival of ayudha puja (worship of tools or implements) is observed by all hindu castes during the last three days of the dasara or navarathri in the month of purattasi (september-october). it is a universal holiday for all hindu workmen. even the brahman takes part in this puja. his tools, however, being books, it is called saraswati puja, or worship to the goddess or god of learning, who is either saraswati or hayagriva. reading books and repetition of vedas must be done, and, for the purpose of worship, all the books in a house are piled up in a heap. non-brahmans clean the various implements used by them in their daily work, and worship them. the kammalans (artisans) clean their hammers, pincers, anvil, blowpipe, etc.; the chettis (merchants) clean their scales and weights, and the box into which they put their money. the racket-marker at the madras club decorates the entrance to the scoring-box in which his rackets are kept, with a festoon of mango leaves. the weaving and agricultural classes will be seen to be busy with their looms and agricultural implements. fishermen pile up their nets for worship. even the bandywala (cart-driver) paints red and white stripes on the wheels and axles. i have myself been profusely garlanded when present as a guest at the elaborate tool-worshipping ceremony at the madras school of arts, where puja was done to a bust of the late bishop gell set up on an improvised altar, with a cast of saraswati above, and various members of the hindu pantheon around. at the festival held by the koyis of the godavari district in propitiation of a goddess called pida, very frequently offerings promised long before are sacrificed, and eaten by the pujari. it is not at all uncommon for a koyi to promise to offer a seven-horned male (i.e. a cock) as a bribe to be let alone, a two-horned male (i.e. a goat) being set apart by more wealthy or more fervent suppliants. [ ] when smallpox or other epidemic disease breaks out in a gadaba village in vizagapatam, a little go-cart on wheels is constructed. in this a clay image, or anything else holy, is placed, and it is taken to a distant spot, and left there. it is also the custom, when cholera or smallpox is epidemic in the same district, to make a little car, "on which are placed a grain of saffron-stained [ ] rice for every soul in the village, and numerous offerings such as little swings, pots, knives, ploughs, and the like, and the blood of certain sacrificial victims, and this is then dragged with due ceremony to the boundary of the village. by this means the malignant essence of the deity who brings smallpox or cholera is transferred across the boundary. the neighbouring villagers naturally hasten to move the car on with similar ceremony, and it is thus dragged through a whole series of villages, and eventually left by the roadside in some lonely spot." [ ] marching on one occasion, towards hampi in the bellary district, where an outbreak of cholera had recently occurred, i came across two wooden gods on wheels by the roadside, to whom had been offered baskets of fruit, vegetables, earthen pots, bead necklets, and bangles, which were piled up in front of them. it is recorded [ ] by bishop whitehead that, when an epidemic breaks out in a certain village in the telugu country, "the headman of the village gets a new earthenware pot, besmears it with turmeric and kunkuma (red powder), and puts inside it some clay bracelets, necklaces, and earrings, three pieces of charcoal, three pieces of turmeric, three pieces of incense, a piece of dried cocoanut, a woman's cloth, and two annas worth of coppers--a strange collection of miscellaneous charms and offerings. the pot is then hung up on a tree near the image of the village deity, as a pledge that, if the epidemic disappears, the people will celebrate a festival." it is further recorded [ ] by bishop whitehead that, during the festival of mariamma at kannanur in the trichinopoly district, "many people who have made vows bring sheep, goats, fowls, pigeons, parrots, cows, and calves, to the temple, and leave them in the compound alive. at the end of the festival, these animals are all sold to a contractor. two years ago, they fetched rs. --a good haul for the temple." between the madras museum and the government maternity hospital, a small municipal boundary stone has been set up by the side of the road. to this stone supernatural powers are attributed, and it is alleged that in a banyan tree in a private garden close by a muni lives, who presides over the welfare of the patients in the hospital, and must be propitiated if the pregnant woman is to get over her confinement without complications. women vow that they will, if all goes well, give a cocoanut, betel, or flowers when they leave. discharged patients can be seen daily, going to the stone and making offerings. on the day of their discharge, their friends bring camphor and other articles, and the whole family goes to the stone, where the camphor is burnt, a cocoanut broken, and perhaps some turmeric or flowers placed on it. the new-born child is placed on the bare ground in front of the stone, and the mother, kneeling down, bows before it. the foreheads of both mother and child are marked with the soots from the burning camphor. if her friends do not bring the requisite articles, the woman goes home, and returns with them to do puja to the stone, or it is celebrated at a temple or her house. the offerings are removed by those who present them, or by passers-by on the road. the kudubi cutch (catechu) makers of south canara, before the commencement of operations, select an areca catechu tree, and place a sword, an axe, and a cocoanut on the ground near it. they prostrate themselves before the tree, with hands uplifted, burn incense, and break cocoanuts. the success of the operations is believed to depend on the good-will of a deity named siddedevaru. before they commence work, the kudubis make a vow that, if they are successful, they will offer a fowl. "a palmyra tree in the jungle near ramnad with seven distinct trunks, each bearing a goodly head of fan-shaped leaves is," general burton writes, [ ] "attributed to the action of a deity, and stones smeared with oil and vermilion, broken cocoanuts, and fowl's feathers lying about, testify that puja and sacrifice were performed here." on the rangasvami peak on the nilgiris are two rude walled enclosures sacred to the god ranga and his consort, within which are deposited various offerings, chiefly iron lamps and the notched sticks used as weighing-machines. the hereditary priest is an irula (jungle tribesman). [ ] certain caves are regarded by the muduvars of the travancore hills as shrines, wherein spear-heads, tridents, and copper coins are placed, partly to mark them as holy places, and partly as offerings to bring good luck. prehistoric stone cells, found in the bed of a river, are believed to be the thunderbolts of vishnu, and are stacked as offerings by the malaialis of the shevaroy hills in their shrines dedicated to vigneswara the elephant god, who averts evil, or in little niches cut in rocks. of a remarkable form of demon worship in tinnevelly, bishop caldwell wrote that [ ] "an european was till recently worshipped as a demon. from the rude verses which were sung in connection with his worship, it would appear that he was an english officer, who was mortally wounded at the taking of the travancore lines in , and was buried about twenty-five miles from the scene of the battle in a sandy waste, where, a few years ago, his worship was established by the shanans of the neighbourhood. his worship consisted in the offering to his manes of spirituous liquors and cheroots." a similar form of worship, or propitiation of demons, is recorded [ ] by bishop whitehead from malabar. he was told that "the spirits of the old portuguese soldiers and traders are still propitiated on the coast with offerings of toddy and cheroots. the spirits are called kappiri (probably kaffirs or foreigners). this superstition is dying out, but is said to be common among the fishermen of the french settlement of mai (mahé)." on one occasion, a man who had been presented with two annas as the fee for lending his body to me for measurement, offered it, with flowers and a cocoanut, at the shrine of the village goddess, and dedicated to her another coin of his own as a peace-offering, and to get rid of the pollution caused by my money. vi charms mantrams, or consecrated formulæ, are supposed to be very powerful, and by their aid even gods can be brought under control. they are, inter alia, believed to be efficacious in curing disease, in protecting children against devils, and women against miscarriage, in promoting development of the breasts, in bringing offspring to barren women, in warding off misfortune consequent on marriage with a girl who has an unlucky mark, in keeping wild pigs from the fields, and warding off cattle disease. for the last purpose, the magical formula is carved on a stone pillar, which is set up in the village. they are divided into four classes, viz., mantrasara, or the real essence of magic; yantrasara, or the science of cabalistic figures; prayogasara, or the method of using these for the attainment of any object; tantrasara, or the science of symbolical acts with or without words. mantrasara includes all mantrams, with their efficacy for good and evil, and the methods of learning and reciting them with the aid of a guru (spiritual preceptor). they are said to be effective only when the individual who resorts to them is pure in mind and body. this can be attained by the recitation of ajapagayithri ( , inhalations and exhalations in twenty-four hours). these have to be divided among the deities ganesa, brahma, vishnu, rudra, jivathma, paramathma, and the guru, in the proportion of , , , , , , . a man can only become learned in mantrams (mantravadi) by the regular performance of the recognised ceremonial, by proper recital of the mantrams, by burning the sacred fire, and by taking food. a lambadi has been seen repeating mantrams over his patients, and touching their heads at the same time with a book, which was a small edition of the telugu translation of st john's gospel. neither the physician nor the patient could read, and had no idea of the contents of the book. [ ] it is noted by the abbé dubois, [ ] that one of the principal reasons why so little confidence is placed in european doctors by hindus is that, when administering their remedies, they recite neither mantrams nor prayers. yantrasara includes all cabalistic figures, the method of drawing and using them, and the objects to be attained by them. they are usually drawn on thin plates of gold, silver, copper, or lead. the efficacy of the figures, when drawn on gold, will, it is said, last for a century, while those drawn on the less precious metals will only be effective for six months or a year. leaden plates are used when the yantrams are to be buried underground. the figures should possess the symbols of life, the eyes, tongue, eight cardinal points of the compass, and the five elements. prayogasara includes attraction or summoning by enchantment, driving out evil spirits, stupefaction, tempting or bringing a deity or evil spirits under control, and enticement for love, destruction, and the separation of friends. the following are examples of cases in which a european, who, having been trained by a guru, was well versed in the theory and practice of native magic, was called in to administer to natives, who were under the spell of devils. in the first case, a telugu girl, about seventeen years old, had been for some time possessed by her sister's husband, under whose influence she used to eat abnormal quantities of food, tear off her clothes, and use indecent language in a voice other than her own. when the european arrived in her room, the devil, speaking through the girl, threatened to kill her, or the european, or the individual who put it into her. under the spell of a suitable mantram, the devil departed, and its return was prevented by the wearing of a yantram. the other case was that of a boy, who was possessed by a devil. he was found, on the occasion of the visit of the european, lying down in the courtyard of his house, clad in an ample loin-cloth, and with a high temperature. suddenly, through some invisible agency, a corner of his loin-cloth caught fire, which was stamped out. it then caught fire in another place, and eventually was riddled with burnt holes. this was the way in which the devil manifested its influence, and sometimes the boy got burnt. a mantram was recited, with the result that the burning ceased, and the fever abated. an impromptu yantram was made out of vibhuti (sacred ashes), and tied round the boy's neck. a religious mendicant came along a short time afterwards, and treated the boy for some ordinary sickness not connected with the devil, but the medicine did him no good. finding the yantram round his neck, the mendicant asserted that it was the cause of his failure, and ordered its removal. this the boy's relations refused to permit. but the holy man ripped it off. whereon the boy instantly fell down comatose. in recording these two cases, i have reproduced my notes made on the occasion of an interview with the european. reference has been made (p. ) to mantrams carved on stone pillars. the story of a stone slab at rayalcheruvu in the anantapur district, known as the yantram rayi or magic stone, is narrated by mr francis. [ ] "the charm consists of eighty-one squares, nine each way, within a border of tridents. each square contains one or more telugu letters, but these will not combine into any intelligible words. at the bottom of the stone are cut a lingam and two pairs of foot-prints. some twelve years ago, it is said, the village suffered severely from cholera for three years in succession, and a telugu mason, a foreigner who was in the village at the time, cut this charm on the stone to stop the disease. it was set up with much ceremony. the mason went round the village at night without a stitch of clothing on him, and with the entrails of a sheep hanging round his neck. many cocoanuts were offered to the stone, and many sheep slain before it. the mason tossed a lamb in the air, caught it as it fell, tore its throat open with his teeth, and then bounded forward, and spat out the blood. more sheep and cocoanuts were offered, and then the slab was set up. the mason naturally demanded a substantial return for the benefit he had conferred on the inhabitants. when cholera now breaks out, the villagers subscribe together, and do puja (worship) to the stone in accordance with directions left by him." of similar stones in the south arcot district, mr francis writes as follows [ ]:-- "in several villages in the west of the district are magical slabs, which are supposed to cure cholera and cattle disease. on them, surrounded by a border of trisulas (the trident of siva) are cut a series of little squares, in each of which is some tamil letter. the villagers usually explain their existence by saying that, some forty years ago, an ascetic, whom they call the sangili (chain) sanyasi from his predilection for wearing red-hot chains round his neck, came there when cholera and cattle disease were rife, and (for a consideration) put up these slabs to ward off his ills. he left directions that, when either disease reappeared, pots of water were to be poured over the slab, bilva (Ægle marmelos) leaves tied to it and so on, and that men and animals were then to walk through the water which had been poured over it." mr francis writes further [ ] that "in many places, stone slabs may be seen set up in the outskirts of the villages, on what are said to be the old boundaries. these are thought to be able to ward off sickness, and other harm which threatens to enter the place, and are revered accordingly. some are quite blank, others have letters cut on them, while others again bear the rude outline of a deity, and are accordingly given such names as pidari or ellai amman (the goddess of the boundary). to these last, periodical worship is often performed, but, in the case of the others, the attentions of the villagers are confined to an annual ceremony, whereat cocoanuts are broken, camphor is burnt, and a light is placed on the stone." it was noted by lieutenant r. f. burton [ ] that, in some hamlets, the kotas of the nilgiris have set up curiously carved stones, which they consider sacred, and attribute to them the power of curing diseases, if the member affected is rubbed against them. at cross-roads in bellary, odd geometric patterns may sometimes be noticed. these are put there at night by people suffering from disease, in the hope that the affliction will pass to the person who first treads on the charm. [ ] as examples of yantrams, the following, selected from a very large repertoire, may be cited:-- ganapathi yantram should be drawn on metal, and worship performed. it is then enclosed in a metal cylinder, and tied by a thread round the neck of females, or the waist or arm of men. it will cure disease, conquer an enemy, or entice any one. if the sacred fire is kept up while the formula is being repeated, and dry cocoanut, plantain fruits, money, ghi (clarified butter), and sweet bread put into it, the owner will be blessed with wealth and prosperity. bhadrakali yantram. the figure is drawn on the floor with flour or rice, turmeric, charcoal powder, and leaves of the castor-oil plant. if the deity is worshipped at night, it will lead to the acquisition of knowledge, strength, freedom from disease and impending calamities, wealth, and prosperity. if puja (worship) is celebrated by a mantravadi for twelve days with the face turned towards the south, it will produce the death of an enemy. sudarsana yantram, when drawn on a sheet of metal, and enclosed in a cylinder worn round the neck or on the arm, will relieve those who are ill or possessed by devils. if it is drawn on butter spread on a plantain leaf, puja performed, and the butter given to a barren woman, there will be no danger to herself or her future issue. suthakadosham yantram. children under one year of age are supposed to be affected, if they are seen by a woman on the fourth day of menstruation with wet clothes and empty stomach after bathing. she may not even see her own baby or husband till she has changed her clothes, and taken food. to avert the evil, a waist-band, made of the bark of the arka plant (calotropis gigantea), is worn. sarabha yantram will cure persons suffering from epilepsy or intermittent fever. subramaniya yantram, if regularly worshipped, will expel devils from those attacked by them, and from houses. hanuman yantram will protect those who are out on dark nights, and produce bodily strength and wisdom. if drawn on a sheet of gold, and puja is performed to it every saturday, it will bring prosperity, and help pregnant women during their confinement. pakshi yantram, if drawn on a sheet of lead, and kept in several places round a house, will keep snakes away. vatugabhairava yantram cures disease in those who are under eighteen years old, and drives out all kinds of evil spirits. if ashes are smeared on the face, and the mantram is uttered sixteen times, it will be very effective. varati yantram is very useful to any one who wishes to kill an enemy. he should sit in a retired spot at night, with his face turned towards the south, and repeat the mantram a thousand times for twenty days. prathingiri yantram is drawn on a sheet of lead, and buried at a spot over which a person, whose death is desired, will pass. it is then placed on the floor, on which the sacred fire is kindled. the mantram should be repeated eight hundred times for seven nights. chamundi and raktha chamundi yantrams are used for causing the death of enemies. the mantram should be written on a sheet of lead, and puja, with the sacrifice of toddy and mutton, performed. asvaruda yantram enables a person wearing it to cover long distances on horseback, and he can make the most refractory horse amenable by tying it round its neck. [ ] an inhabitant of malabar presented mr fawcett with a yantram against the evil eye, which, if whispered over a piece of string, and tied round any part of the body affected, would work an instantaneous cure. a cheruman at calicut, who was wearing on his loin-string a copper cylinder containing a brass strip with mantrams, sold it to me for a rupee with the assurance that it would protect me from devils. to produce an ulcer, which will cause the death of an enemy in ninety days, a mantram is written on a piece of cadjan (palm leaf), enclosed in an egg with a small quantity of earth on which he has urinated, and buried in an ant-hill. a fowl is killed, and its blood and some toddy are poured over the egg. to cure fever, the formula is written with the finger in water contained in a basin, and the appropriate words are repeated while the water is being drunk. by some muhammadans, on festival days, the names of holy persons, together with their sayings, are written on mango or palmyra leaves in ink made of charred rice. when the ink is dry, the leaves are washed in water, which is drunk. this is supposed to cure people of many obstinate diseases. a european official was informed by a native magistrate in the vizagapatam district that, when he wanted to tear up some old abkari (liquor) licenses, a man implored him not to do so, as they had brought him life for a year, and were therefore worshipped. so the medicine was water, in which an old license had been dipped. it is recorded [ ] by mr logan that "in , a poor mappilla (muhammadan) woman residing in one of the laccadive islands was put upon her trial for witchcraft for importing into the island a betel leaf with a certain cabalistic and magical inscription on it; but it fortunately turned out for her that she had merely pounded it up, and rubbed it over her daughter's body to cure her of fits. ibn batuta (the arab traveller who visited south india in the fourteenth century) wrote of a malayali king who was converted to islam by the leaf of 'the tree of testimony,' a tree of which it was related to him that it does not generally drop its leaves, but at the season of autumn in every year one of them changes its colour, first to yellow, then to red, and that upon this is written 'there is no god but god: muhammad is the prophet of god,' and that this leaf alone falls. the falling of the leaf was an annual event, and the leaf itself was efficacious in curing diseases. nowadays the belief among the muhammadans still subsists, that the leaves of a certain tree growing on mount deli (in malabar) possess similar virtues." metal bowls, engraved both on the outside and inside with texts from the quran, are taken or sent by muhammadans to mecca, where they are placed at the head of the tomb of the prophet, and blessed. they are highly valued, and used in cases of sickness for the administration of medicine or nourishment. it is on record that, at the battle of seringapatam in , an officer took from off the right arm of the dead body of tipu sultan a talisman, which contained sewed up in pieces of fine flowered silk a charm made of a brittle metallic substance of the colour of silver, and some manuscripts in magic arabic and persian characters. a notorious mappilla dacoit, who was shot by the police a few years ago, and whom his co-religionists tried to make a saint, was at the time of his death wearing five copper and silver charm cylinders round his waist. it is noted by mr logan [ ] that "when affliction comes, the animal affected is served with grass, fruit, etc., on which charms have been whispered, or is bathed in charmed water, or has a talisman in the shape of a palm leaf inscribed with charms rolled up and tied round its neck." the tooth or claw of a tiger, worn on the neck or round the loins, is considered effective against evil influences. a tiger's whiskers are held to be a most potent poison when chopped up; so, when a tiger is killed, the whiskers are immediately singed off. [ ] they are represented in stuffed heads by the delicate bristles of the porcupine. when a savara of ganjam is killed by a tiger, the kudang goes through a performance on the following sunday to prevent a similar fate overtaking others. two pigs are killed outside the village, and every man, woman, and child is made to walk over the ground whereon the pig's blood is spilled, and the kudang gives to each individual some kind of tiger medicine as a charm. [ ] in malabar the tusks of a wild boar are, in cases of protracted labour, pressed over the abdomen of the woman from above downwards. the hair of the bear is enclosed in a casket or cylinder, and tied to the girdle round the loins of male children, and in strings round the neck of female children, as a remedy against fever, and to prevent involuntary discharge of urine during sleep. [ ] one of the occupations of the kuruvikkarans (bird-catchers and beggars) is the manufacture and sale of spurious jackal horns, known as narikompu. to catch the jackals they make an enclosure of a net, inside which a man seats himself armed with a big stick. he then proceeds to execute a perfect imitation of the jackal's cry, on hearing which the jackals come running to see what is the matter, and are beaten down. sometimes the entire jackal's head is sold, skin and all. the process of manufacture of the horn is as follows. after the brain has been removed, the skin is stripped off a limited area of the skull, and the bone at the place of junction of the sagittal and lambdoid sutures above the occipital foramen is filed away, so that only a point, like a bony outgrowth, is left. the skin is then brought back, and pressed over the little horn which pierces it. the horn is also said to be made out of the molar tooth of a dog or jackal, introduced through a small hole in a piece of jackal's skin, round which a little blood or turmeric paste is smeared to make it look more natural. in most cases only the horn, with a small piece of skull and skin, is sold. sometimes, instead of the skin from the part where the horn is made, a piece of skin is taken from the snout, where the long black hairs are. the horn then appears surrounded by long black bushy hairs. the kuruvikkarans explain that, when they see a jackal with such long hairs on the top of its head, they know that it possesses a horn. a horn-vendor, whom i interviewed, assured me that the possessor of a horn is a small jackal, which comes out of its hiding-place on full-moon nights to drink the dew. according to another version, the horn is only possessed by the leader of a pack of jackals. a nomad dommara, whom i saw at coimbatore, carried a bag containing a miscellaneous assortment of rubbish used in his capacity as medicine-man and snake-charmer, which included a collection of spurious jackal horns. to prove the genuineness thereof, he showed me not only the horn, but also the feet with nails complete, as evidence that the horns were not made from the nails. being charged with manufacturing the horns, he swore, by placing his hand on the head of a child who accompanied him, that he was not deceiving me. the largest of the horns in his bag, he gravely assured me, was from a jackal which he dug out of its hole on the last new-moon night. the sinhalese and tamils regard the horn as a talisman, and believe that its fortunate possessor can command the realisation of every wish. those who have jewels to conceal rest in perfect security if, along with them, they can deposit a narikompu. [ ] the ayah (nurse) of a friend who possessed such a talisman, remarked: "master going into any law-court, sure to win the case." two horns, which i possessed, were stolen from my study table, to bring luck to some tamil member of my establishment. the nasal bone of a jackal or fox, enclosed in a receptacle, is believed to ward off many evils. the nose of a hyæna is also held in great estimation as a charm. when a hyæna is killed, the end of the nose is cut off and dried, and is supposed to be a sovereign charm in cases of difficult labour, indigestion, and boils, if applied to the nostrils of the patient. [ ] in malabar, silver finger-rings with a piece of bristle from the tail of an elephant set in them, are worn as a charm. in the vizagapatam district, a most efficacious charm, supposed to render a man invulnerable to every ill, consists of a small piece of black wool, given to every one who takes a black sheep for the priest of a temple on the bopelli ghat. another much valued charm in this district is called chemru mausa, which is described as being a small musk-rat only an inch and a half long, very scarce, and only found on rocky hills. it is worn in a gold or silver receptacle on the arm, and is supposed to render a man invulnerable against sword cuts and musket shots. in like manner, a mixture of gingelly (sesamum) oil, the red dye which women use, and other ingredients, put into a small piece of hollow bamboo, and worn on the arm, are believed to protect a man against being shot with a bow or musket. many of the kadir infants on the anaimalai hills have tied round the neck a charm, which takes the form of a dried tortoise foot; the tooth of a crocodile mimicking a phallus, and supposed to ward off attacks from a mythical water elephant which lives in the mountain streams, or wooden imitations of tiger's claws. the joints taken from the tail of the black scorpion are believed to ward off illness, if children wear them on their waist-thread. [ ] of charms worn by the nambutiri brahmans in malabar, the following are recorded by mr f. fawcett [ ]:-- ring, in which an anavarahan coin is set. this is a very lucky ring. spurious imitations are often set in rings, but it is the genuine one which brings good luck. gold case fastened to a string round the waist, and containing a figure written on a silver plate. the man had worn it for three years, having put it on because he used to feel hot during the cold season, and attributed his condition to the influence of an evil spirit. two cylinders, one of gold, the other of silver. in each were some chakrams (travancore silver coins) and a gold leaf, on which a charm was inscribed. one of the charms was prepared by a mappilla, the other by a nambutiri. in connection with the wearing of charms by the nayars of malabar, mr fawcett writes [ ] as follows:-- "one individual wore two rings made of an amalgamation of gold and copper, called tambak on the ring-finger of the right hand for good luck. tambak rings are lucky rings. it is a good thing to wash the face with the hand, on which is a tambak ring. another wore two rings of the pattern called triloham on the ring-finger of each hand. each of these was made during an eclipse. an akattu charna nayar wore an amulet, to keep off the spirit of a brahman who died by drowning." as examples of charms worn by bedar men in the canarese country, the following may be cited:-- string tied round right arm with metal box attached to it, to drive away devils. string round ankle for the same purpose. necklet of coral and ivory beads worn as a vow to the goddess huligamma. necklets of ivory beads, and a gold disc with the vishnupad (feet of vishnu) engraved on it, purchased from a religious mendicant to bring good luck. in an account of the mandulas (medicine-men) of the telugu country, bishop whitehead records [ ] that a baby three days old had an anklet made of its mother's hair tied round the right ankle, to keep off the evil eye. the mother, too, had round her ankle a similar anklet, which she put on before her confinement. one of the men was also wearing an anklet of hair, as he had recently been bitten by a snake. a metal charm-cylinder is sometimes attached to the sacred thread, which is worn by devangas (a weaving caste), who claim to be devanga brahmans. i have seen the child of a kuruba (canarese agriculturist) priest wearing a necklet with a copper ornament engraved with cabalistic devices, a silver plate bearing a figure of hanuman (the monkey god), as all his other children had died, and a piece of pierced pottery from the burial-ground, to ward off whooping-cough. the rev. s. nicholson informs me that, if a mala (telugu pariah) child grinds its teeth in its sleep, a piece of a broken pot is brought from a graveyard, and, after being smoked with incense, tied round the child's neck with a piece of string rubbed with turmeric, or with a piece of gut. in the tamil country, the bark of a tree on which any one has hanged himself, a cord with twenty-one knots, and the earth from a child's grave, are hung round the neck, or tied to the waist-string as talismans. a kota woman at kotagiri on the nilgiris, was wearing a glass necklet, with a charm pendant from it, consisting of the root of some tree rolled up in a ball of cloth. she put it on when her baby was quite young, to protect it against devils. the baby had a similar charm on its neck. by some jungle chenchus pieces of stick strung on a thread, or seeds of givotia rottleriformis are worn, to ward off various forms of pain. small flat plates of copper, called takudu, are frequently worn by tamil paraiyan children. one side is divided into sixteen squares in which what look like the telugu numerals nine, ten, eleven and twelve, are engraved. on the other side a circle is drawn, which is divided into eight segments, in each of which a telugu letter is inscribed. this charm is supposed to protect the wearer from harm coming from any of the eight cardinal points of the indian compass. charms, in the form of metal cylinders, are worn for the same purpose by adults and children, and procured from some exorcist. [ ] by some medaras of the telugu country, a figure of hanuman (the monkey god) is engraved on a thin plate of gold with cabalistic letters inscribed on it, and worn on the neck. on eclipse days, a piece of root of the arka plant (calotropis gigantea) is worn on the neck of females, and on the waist or arm of males. in a note regarding moon-shaped amulets against the evil eye described by professor tylor, [ ] mr. walhouse mentions that crescents, made of thin plates of metal, sometimes gold, are worn by children on the west coast, suspended upon the breast with the point upwards. neck ornaments in the form of a crescent are commonly worn by muhammadan children. concerning the use of coins as charms, mr v. devasahayam writes as follows [ ]:-- "seeing a woman with several old coins strung on the tali (marriage badge) string round the neck, i offered to buy them of her for a good price, but got only a torrent of abuse, since she, in her ignorance and superstition, supposed that lutchmi, the goddess of fortune, would forsake her if she parted with the coins. in tranquebar there lives a head mason, who always carries in his betel-nut bag a copper coin bearing the inscription of koneri rayan, one of the later pandyans or early nayakars. the man would on no account part with this coin, for he believes that his success in business has improved since he came into possession of it, and that it will continue as long as he carries it with him. he says that he shall bequeath it to his family at his death, to hold in veneration almost amounting to worship. for dog bite, some natives tie an old copper coin with a bandage over the wound, and wear it till it has healed. others rub the coin against a copper vessel, using a few drops of the juice of the datura plant in order to form a paste, and apply the paste to the wound. whooping-cough is believed to be caused by the displeasure of bhairava, the dog-god, and the whooping is regarded as a sort of barking, under possession by the god. to appease his anger, an old coin is hammered into a flat round disc, a rude figure of a dog engraved on it, and suspended as a charm to the sick child's waist. in the treatment of skin disease, dyspepsia, and leprosy, old copper coins are ground to dust, heated till the dust is like ashes, and administered medicinally. soon after a sonaga woman is delivered of a child, she is made to swallow a small old copper coin together with some water. natives believe that, during delivery, the whole system is so irritated that strong counter-irritants must be administered to prevent tetanus." mercury cups, said to be made of an amalgam of mercury and tin, are stated to possess the property of allowing mercury, when poured in, to ooze through them, and pass out. milk preserved in such a cup for a few hours is said to turn into hard curd. milk kept over night in one of these cups, or an amulet made from the cup materials, are believed to exercise a most potent influence over the male fertilising element. such an amulet, applied to the neck of a chorister, is said to have increased his vocal powers three or four times. piles, and other bodily ailments, are believed to be cured by wearing rings, in the composition of which mercury is one of the ingredients. in a case which was tried before a magistrate in travancore, the accused, in order to win his case, had concealed in his under-cloth some yantrams, which had been prepared for him by a sorcerer. the plaintiff, having got scent of this, gave information, and the charms were handed over to the magistrate. it is recorded in the vigada thuthan that, when a woman who gets tired of her husband sues him for maintenance, she wears charm bundles (manthira kattu), so that his evidence may be confused and incoherent. such charms are said to be concealed in the hair of the head or in the headdress, and generally to consist of a lime fruit, which has been charmed by magical spells in a graveyard, after the sorcerer has performed certain ceremonies to guard him against devils catching him during the incantations. it is said that, in former times, if the chastity of a tamil paraiyan bride was suspected, she had to establish her virtue by picking some cakes out of boiling oil, and then husking some rice with her bare hand. her hair, nails, and clothes were examined, to see that she had no charm concealed about her. [ ] a friend once dismissed a servant for cheating and lying. a short time afterwards, he found nailed to a teapoy a paper scroll containing a jasmine flower tied up with coloured threads. on the scroll were inscribed in tamil the mystic syllable, "om," and "nama siva r. u. masthan sahibu avergal padame thunai" (i seek for help at the feet of masthan sahib). masthan is a muhammad saint. the servant of a european police officer, who had been caught out in all sorts of malpractices, tried to win back the good-will of his master by means of a charm, for which he paid fifteen rupees, placed under his master's pillow. it is recorded by marco polo [ ] that south indian pearl divers [ ] call in the services of an abraiman (brahman?) to charm the sharks. "and their charm holds good for that day only; for at night they dissolve the charm, so that the fishes can work mischief at their will." the prospects of a pearl fishery, when success seems certain, may be abruptly ruined by accidents from sharks, of which the divers have a superstitious, but not altogether unreasonable, dread. before the fishery of , at which i was present, the divers of kilakarai on the madura coast, as a preliminary to starting for the scene thereof, performed a ceremony, at which prayers were offered for protection against the attacks of sharks. "the only precaution," tennent writes, [ ] "to which the ceylon diver devotedly resorts is the mystic ceremony of the shark-charmer, whose power is believed to be hereditary. nor is it supposed that the value of his incantations is at all dependent upon the religious faith professed by the operator, for the present head of the family happens to be a roman catholic. at the time of our visit, this mysterious functionary was ill, and unable to attend; but he sent an accredited substitute, who assured me that, although he was himself ignorant of the grand and mystic secret, the fact of his presence, as a representative of the higher authority, would be recognised and respected by the sharks." at the tuticorin fishery in , a scare was produced by a diver being bitten by a shark, but subsided as soon as a "wise woman" was employed. her powers do not, however, seem to have been great, for more cases of shark-bite occurred, and the fishery had to be abandoned at a time when favourable breezes, clear water, plenty of boats, and oysters selling at a good price, indicated a successful financial result. vii human sacrifice "the best known case," mr frazer writes, [ ] "of human sacrifices systematically offered to ensure good crops, is supplied by the khonds or kandhs, a dravidian race in bengal and madras. our knowledge of them is derived from the accounts written by british officers, who, forty or fifty years ago, were engaged in putting them down. the sacrifices were offered to the earth goddess, tari pennu or bera pennu, and were believed to ensure good crops, and immunity from all diseases and accidents. in particular, they were considered necessary in the cultivation of turmeric, the khonds arguing that the turmeric could not have a deep red colour without the shedding of blood. the victim, a meriah, was acceptable to the goddess only if he had been purchased, or had been born a victim, that is, the son of a victim father, or had been devoted as a child by his father or guardian." in , mr russell, in a report on the districts entrusted to his control, wrote as follows [ ]:-- "the ceremonies attending the barbarous rite (kondh human sacrifice) vary in different parts of the country. in the maliahs of goomsur, the sacrifice is offered annually to thadha pennoo, under the effigy of a bird intended to represent a peacock, with the view of propitiating the deity to grant favourable seasons and crops. the ceremony is performed at the expense of, and in rotation, by certain mootahs (districts) composing a community, and connected together from local circumstances. besides these periodical sacrifices, others are made by single mootahs, and even by individuals, to avert any threatening calamity from sickness, murrain, or other causes. grown men are the most esteemed (as victims), because the most costly. children are purchased, and reared for years with the family of the person who ultimately devotes them to a cruel death, when circumstances are supposed to demand a sacrifice at his hands. they seem to be treated with kindness, and, if young, are kept under no constraint; but, when old enough to be sensible of the fate that awaits them, they are placed in fetters, and guarded. most of those who were rescued had been sold by their parents or nearest relations, a practice which, from all we could learn, is very common. persons of riper age are kidnapped by wretches who trade in human flesh. the victim must always be purchased. criminals, or prisoners captured in war, are not considered fitting subjects. the price is paid indifferently in brass utensils, cattle, or coin. the zanee (or priest), who may be of any caste, officiates at the sacrifice, but he performs the poojah (offering of flowers, incense, etc.) to the idol through the medium of the toomba, who must be a khond child under seven years of age. this child is fed and clothed at the public expense, eats with no other person, and is subjected to no act deemed impure. for a month prior to the sacrifice, there is much feasting and intoxication, and dancing round the meriah, who is adorned with garlands, etc., and, on the day before the performance of the barbarous rite, is stupefied with toddy, and made to sit, or, if necessary, is bound at the bottom of a post bearing the effigy above described. the assembled multitude then dance around to music, and, addressing the earth, say 'oh! god, we offer the sacrifice to you. give us good crops, seasons, and health.' after which they address the victim. 'we bought you with a price, and did not seize you. now we sacrifice you according to custom, and no sin rests with us.' on the following day, the victim being again intoxicated, and anointed with oil, each individual present touches the anointed part, and wipes the oil on his own head. all then proceed in procession around the village and its boundaries, preceded by music, bearing the victim and a pole, to the top of which is attached a tuft of peacock's feathers. on returning to the post, which is always placed near the village deity called zakaree pennoo, and represented by three stones, near which the brass effigy in the shape of the peacock is buried, they kill a pig in sacrifice, and, having allowed the blood to flow into a pit prepared for the purpose, the victim who, if it has been found possible, has been previously made senseless from intoxication, is seized and thrown in, and his face pressed down until he is suffocated in the bloody mire amid the noise of instruments. the zanee then cuts a piece of the flesh from the body, and buries it with ceremony near the effigy and village idol, as an offering to the earth. all the rest afterwards go through the same form, and carry the bloody prize to their villages, where the same rites are performed, part being interred near the village idol, and little bits on the boundaries. the head and face remain untouched, and the bones, when bare, are buried with them in the pit. after this horrid ceremony has been completed, a buffalo calf is brought in front of the post, and, his forefeet having been cut off, is left there till the following day. women, dressed in male attire, and armed as men, then drink, dance, and sing round the spot, the calf is killed and eaten, and the zanee is dismissed with a present of rice, and a hog or calf." in the same year, mr arbuthnot, collector of vizagapatam, reported as follows:-- "of the hill tribe codooloo (kondh), there are said to be two distinct classes, the cotia codooloo and jathapoo codooloo. the former class is that which is in the habit of offering human sacrifices to the god called jenkery, with a view to secure good crops. this ceremony is generally performed on the sunday preceding or following the pongal feast. the victim is seldom carried by force, but procured by purchase, and there is a fixed price for each person, which consists of forty articles such as a bullock, a male buffalo, a cow, a goat, a piece of cloth, a silk cloth, a brass pot, a large plate, a bunch of plantains, etc. the man who is destined for the sacrifice is immediately carried before the god, and a small quantity of rice coloured with saffron (turmeric) is put upon his head. the influence of this is said to prevent his attempting to escape, even though set at liberty. it would appear, however, that, from the moment of his seizure till he is sacrificed, he is kept in a continued state of stupefaction or intoxication. he is allowed to wander about the village, to eat and drink anything he may take a fancy to, and even to have connection with any of the women whom he may meet. on the morning set apart for the sacrifice, he is carried before the idol in a state of intoxication. one of the villagers officiates as priest, who cuts a small hole in the stomach of the victim, and with the blood that flows from the wound the idol is besmeared. then the crowds from the neighbouring villages rush forward, and he is literally cut into pieces. each person who is so fortunate as to procure it carries away a morsel of the flesh, and presents it to the idol of his own village." concerning a method of kondh sacrifice, which is illustrated by the wooden post preserved in the madras museum, colonel campbell records [ ] that "one of the most common ways of offering the sacrifice in chinna kimedi is to the effigy of an elephant (hatti mundo or elephant's head) rudely carved in wood, fixed on the top of a stout post, on which it is made to revolve. after the performance of the usual ceremonies, the intended victim is fastened to the proboscis of the elephant, and, amidst the shouts and yells of the excited multitude of khonds, is rapidly whirled round, when, at a given signal by the officiating zanee or priest, the crowd rush in, seize the meriah, and with their knives cut the flesh off the shrieking wretch so long as life remains. he is then cut down, the skeleton burnt, and the horrid orgies are over. in several villages i counted as many as fourteen effigies of elephants, which had been used in former sacrifices. these i caused to be overthrown by the baggage elephants attached to my camp in the presence of the assembled khonds, to show them that these venerated objects had no power against the living animal, and to remove all vestiges of their bloody superstition." it is noted by risley [ ] that, while the crowd hacked the body of the victim, they chanted a ghastly hymn, an extract from which illustrates very clearly the theory of sympathetic magic underlying the ritual:-- "as the tears stream from thine eyes, so may the rain pour down in august; as the mucus trickles from thy nostrils, so may it drizzle at intervals; as thy blood gushes forth, so may the vegetation sprout; as thy gore falls in drops, so may the grains of rice form." in another report, colonel campbell describes how the miserable victim is dragged along the fields, surrounded by a crowd of half intoxicated kondhs who, shouting and screaming, rush upon him, and with their knives cut the flesh piecemeal from the bones, avoiding the head and bowels, till the living skeleton, dying from loss of blood, is relieved from torture, when its remains are burnt, and the ashes mixed with the new grain to preserve it from insects. yet again, he describes a sacrifice which was peculiar to the kondhs of jeypore. "it is," he says, "always succeeded by the sacrifice of three human beings, two to the sun in the east and west of the village, and one in the centre, with the usual barbarities of the meriah. a stout wooden post about six feet long is firmly fixed in the ground, at the foot of it a narrow grave is dug, and to the top of the post the victim is firmly fastened by the long hair of his head. four assistants hold his outstretched arms and legs, the body being suspended horizontally over the grave, with the face toward the earth. the officiating junna or priest, standing on the right side, repeats the following invocation, at intervals hacking with his sacrificing knife the back part of the shrieking victim's neck. 'oh! mighty manicksoro, this is your festal day. to the khonds the offering is meriah, to the kings junna. on account of this sacrifice, you have given to kings kingdoms, guns, and swords. the sacrifice we now offer you must eat, and we pray that our battle-axes may be converted into swords, our bows and arrows into gunpowder and balls; and, if we have any quarrels with other tribes, give us the victory. preserve us from the tyranny of kings and their officers.' then, addressing the victim, 'that we may enjoy prosperity, we offer you as a sacrifice to our god manicksoro, who will immediately eat you, so be not grieved at our slaying you. your parents were aware, when we purchased you from them for sixty rupees, that we did so with intent to sacrifice you. there is, therefore, no sin on our heads, but on your parents. after you are dead, we shall perform your obsequies.' the victim is then decapitated, the body thrown into the grave, and the head left suspended from the post till devoured by wild beasts. the knife remains fastened to the post till the three sacrifices have been performed, when it is removed with much ceremony." the kondhs of bara mootah promised to relinquish the meriah rite on condition, inter alia, that they should be at liberty to sacrifice buffaloes, monkeys, goats, etc., to their deities, with all the solemnities observed on occasions of human sacrifice; and that they should further be at liberty, upon all occasions, to denounce to their gods the government, and some of its servants in particular, as the cause of their having relinquished the great rite. the last recorded meriah sacrifice in the ganjam maliahs occurred in , and there are still kondhs alive, who were present at it. the veteran members of a party of kondhs, who were brought to madras for the purpose of performing their dances before the prince and princess of wales in , became widely excited when they came across the relic of their barbarous custom at the museum. twenty-five descendants of persons who were rescued by government officers, returned themselves as meriah at the census, . it is noted by mr w. francis that [ ] "goats and buffaloes nowadays take the place of human meriah victims, but the belief in the superior efficacy of the latter dies hard, and every now and again revives. when the rampa rebellion of - spread in this district, several cases of human sacrifice occurred in the disturbed tracts. in , two persons were convicted of attempting a meriah sacrifice near ambadala in bissamkatak. in , a man (a beggar and a stranger) was found at daybreak murdered in one of the temples in jeypore in circumstances which pointed to his having been slain as a meriah; and, as late as , a formal enquiry showed that there were ample grounds for the suspicion that the kidnapping of victims still went on in bastar." even so recently as , a european magistrate in ganjam received a petition, asking for permission to perform a human sacrifice, which was intended to give a rich colour to the turmeric crop. the flowers with which the sheep and goats which take the place of human beings are decorated are still known as meriah pushpa in jeypore. [ ] in an account [ ] of a substituted sacrifice, which was carried out by the kondhs in the ganjam maliahs in , it is stated that, "the janni gave the buffalo a tap on the head with a small axe. an indescribable scene followed. the khonds in a body fell on the animal, and, in an amazingly short time, literally tore the living victim to shreds with their knives, leaving nothing but the head, bones, and stomach. death must mercifully have been almost instantaneous. every particle of flesh and skin had been stripped off during the few minutes they fought and struggled over the buffalo, eagerly grasping for every atom of flesh. as soon as a man had secured a piece thereof, he rushed away with the gory mass, as fast as he could, to his fields, to bury it therein according to ancient custom, before the sun had set. as some of them had to do good distances to effect this, it was imperative that they should run very fast. a curious scene now took place. as the men ran, all the women flung after them clods of earth, some of them taking very good effect. the sacred grove was cleared of people, save a few that guarded the remnants left of the buffalo, which were taken, and burnt with ceremony at the foot of the stake." the buffalo sacrifice is not unaccompanied by risk, as the animal, before dying, sometimes kills one or more of its tormentors. this was the case near balliguda in , when a buffalo killed the sacrificer. in the previous year, the desire of a village to intercept the bearer of the flesh from a neighbouring village led to a fight, in which two men were killed. like the kondhs, the koyis of the godavari district believe in the efficacy of a sacrifice, to ensure good crops. in this connection, the rev. j. cain writes [ ] that "the koyi goddess mamili or lele must be propitiated early in the year, or else the crops will undoubtedly fail; and she is said to be very partial to human victims. there is strong reason to think that two men were murdered this year ( ) near a village not far from dummagudem as offerings to this devata, and there is no reason to doubt that every year strangers are quietly put out of the way in the bastar country, to ensure the favour of the bloodthirsty goddess." mr cain writes further [ ] that a langur monkey is now substituted for the human victim under the name of erukomma potu or male with small breasts, in the hope of persuading the goddess that she is receiving a human sacrifice. on the site of the old fort at ramagiri in the vizagapatam district, a victim was formerly sacrificed every third year. "the poor wretch was forced into a hole in the ground, three feet deep and eighteen inches square, at the bottom of which the goddess was supposed to dwell, his throat was cut, and the blood allowed to flow into the hole, and afterwards his head was struck off and placed on his lap, and the mutilated body covered with earth and a mound of stones until the time for the next sacrifice came round, when the bones were taken out and thrown away. at malkanagiri, periodical sacrifices occurred at the four gates of the fort, and the rani had a victim slain as a thank-offering for her recovery from an illness." [ ] the nomad koravas are said to have formerly performed human sacrifices, one effect of which was to increase the fertility of the soil. the following account of such a sacrifice was given to mr c. hayavadana rao by an old inhabitant of the village of asur near walajabad in the chingleput district. a big gang of koravas settled at the meeting point of three villages of asur, melputtur, and avalur, on an elevated spot commanding the surrounding country. they had with them their pack-bullocks, each headman of the gang owning about two hundred head. the cow-dung which accumulated daily attracted a good many of the villagers, on one of whom the headman fixed as their intended victim. they made themselves intimate with him, plied him with drink and tobacco, and gave him the monopoly of the cow-dung. thus a week or ten days passed away, and the koravas then fixed a day for the sacrifice. they invited the victim to visit them at dusk, and witness a great festival in honour of their caste goddess. at the appointed hour, the man went to the settlement, and was induced to drink freely. meanwhile, a pit, large enough for a man to stand upright in, had been prepared. at about midnight, the victim was seized, and forced to stand in the pit, which was filled in up to his neck. this done, the women and children of the gang made off with their belongings. as soon as the last of them had quitted the settlement, the headmen brought a large quantity of fresh cow-dung, and placed a ball of it on the head of the victim. the ball served as a support for an earthen lamp, which was lighted. the man was by this time nearly dead, and the cattle were made to pass over his head. the headmen then made off, and, by daybreak, the whole gang had disappeared. the sacrificed man was found by the villagers, who have, since that time, scrupulously avoided the koravas. the victim is said to have turned into a munisvara, and for a long time troubled those who happened to go near the spot at noon or midnight. the koravas are said to have performed the sacrifice, so as to insure their cattle against death from disease. the ground, on which they encamped, and on which they offered the human sacrifice, is stated to have been barren prior thereto, and, as the result thereof, to have become very fertile. a similar form of human sacrifice was practised in former days by the nomad lambadis, concerning which the abbé dubois writes as follows [ ]:-- "when they wish to perform this horrible act, it is said, they secretly carry off the first person they meet. having conducted the victim to some lonely spot, they dig a hole, in which they bury him up to the neck. while he is still alive, they make a sort of lamp of dough made of flour, which they place on his head. this they fill with oil, and light four wicks in it. having done this, the men and women join hands, and, forming a circle, dance round their victim, singing and making a great noise, till he expires." it is recorded by the rev. j. cain [ ] that the lambadis confessed that, in former days, it was the custom among them, before starting out on a journey, to procure a little child, and bury it in the ground up to the shoulders, and then drive their loaded bullocks over the unfortunate victim. in proportion to their thoroughly trampling the child to death, so their belief in a successful journey increased. i am informed by the rev. g. n. thomssen that, at the present day, the lambadis sacrifice a goat or chicken, in case of removal from one part of the jungle to another, when sickness has come. they hope to escape death by leaving one camping ground for another. half-way between the old and new grounds, the animal selected is buried alive, the head being allowed to be above ground. then all the cattle are driven over the buried creature, and the whole camp walk over the buried victim. in the course of an interview with colonel marshall on the subject of infanticide [ ] among the todas of the nilgiri hills, an aged man of the tribe remarked that [ ] "those tell lies who say that we laid the child down before the opening of the buffalo-pen, so that it might be run over and killed by the animals. we never did such things, and it is all nonsense that we drowned it in buffaloes' milk. boys were never killed--only girls; not those who were sickly and deformed--that would be a sin; but, when we had one girl, or in some families two girls, those that followed were killed. an old woman used to take the child immediately after it was born, and close its nostrils, ears, and mouth with a cloth. it would shortly droop its head and go to sleep. we then buried it in the ground." the old man's remark about the cattle-pen refers to the malagasy custom of placing a new-born child at the entrance to a cattle-pen, and then driving the cattle over it, to see whether they would trample on it or not. [ ] it is recorded by bishop whitehead, [ ] in a note on offerings and sacrifices in the telugu country, that "sometimes, when there is a cattle disease, a pig is buried up to its neck at the boundary of the village, a heap of boiled rice is deposited near the spot, and then all the cattle of the village are driven over the head of the unhappy pig.... when i was on tour in the kurnool district, an old man described to me the account he had received from his 'forefathers' of the ceremonies observed when founding a new village. an auspicious site is selected on an auspicious day, and then, in the centre of the site, is dug a large hole, in which are placed different kinds of grains, small pieces of the five metals, and a large stone called boddu-rayée (navel-stone), standing about three and a half feet above the ground, very like the ordinary boundary stones seen in the fields. then, at the entrance of the village, in the centre of the main street, where most of the cattle pass in and out on their way to and from the fields, they dig another hole, and bury a pig alive." it is suggested by bishop whitehead that the custom of thus burying a pig may be connected with the worship of an agricultural goddess, or a survival of a former custom of infanticide or human sacrifice, such as prevailed among the lambadis. it has been suggested that certain rites performed by the panan and malayan exorcists of malabar are survivals, or imitations of human sacrifice. thus, in the ucchaveli ceremony of the panans for driving out devils, there is a mock burial of the principal performer, who is placed in a pit. this is covered with planks, on the top of which a sacrifice (homam) is performed with a fire kindled with jak (artocarpus integrifolia) branches. [ ] the disguise of ucchaveli is also assumed by the malayans for the propitiation of the demon, when a human sacrifice is considered necessary. the malayan who is to take the part puts on a cap made of strips of cocoanut leaf, and strips of the same leaves tied to a bent bamboo stick round his waist. his face and chest are daubed with yellow paint, and designs are drawn thereon in red or black. strings are tied tightly round the left arm near the elbow and wrist, and the swollen area is pierced with a knife. the blood spouts out, and the performer waves the arm, so that his face is covered with blood. in the ceremony for propitiating the demon nenaveli (bloody sacrifice), the malayan smears the upper part of the body and face with a paste made of rice-flour reddened with turmeric powder and chunam (lime), to indicate a sacrifice. before the paste dries, parched paddy (unhusked rice) grains, representing smallpox pustules, are sprinkled over it. strips of young cocoanut leaves, strung together so as to form a petticoat, are tied round the waist, a ball of sacred ashes (vibhuthi) is fixed on the tip of the nose, and two strips of palm leaf are placed in the mouth to represent fangs. if it is thought that a human sacrifice is necessary to propitiate the devil, the man representing nenaveli puts round his neck a kind of framework made of plantain leaf sheaths; and, after he has danced with it on, it is removed, and placed on the ground in front of him. a number of lighted wicks are stuck in the middle of the framework, which is sprinkled with the blood of a fowl, and then beaten and crushed. sometimes this is not regarded as sufficient, and the performer is made to lie in a pit, which is covered over by a plank, and a fire kindled. a malayan, who acted the part of nenaveli before me, danced and gesticulated wildly, while a small boy, concealed behind him, sang songs in praises of the demon, to the accompaniment of a drum. at the end of the performance, he feigned extreme exhaustion, and laid on the ground in a state of apparent collapse, while he was drenched with water brought in pots from a neighbouring well. a very similar rite has been recorded by mr lewis rice as being carried out by the coorgs, when a particular curse, which can only be removed by an extraordinary sacrifice, rests on a house, stable, or field. concerning this sacrifice, mr rice writes as follows [ ]:-- "the kaniya (religious mendicant) [ ] sends for some of his fraternity, the panikas or bannus, and they set to work. a pit is dug in the middle room of the house or in the yard, or in the stable, or in the field, as the occasion may require. into this one of the magicians descends. he sits down in hindu fashion, muttering mantras. pieces of wood are laid across the pit, and covered with earth a foot or two deep. upon this platform a fire of jackwood is kindled, into which butter, sugar, different kinds of grain, etc., are thrown. this sacrifice continues all night, the panika sacrificer above, and his immured colleague below, repeating their incantations all the while. in the morning the pit is opened, and the man returns to the light of day. these sacrifices are called maranada bali, or death atonements. instead of a human being, a cock is sometimes shut up in the pit, and killed afterwards." evidence is produced by mr rice [ ] that, in former days, human sacrifices were offered in coorg, to secure the favour of the grama devatas (village goddesses) mariamma, durga, and bhadra kali. "in kirinadu and koniucheri gramas," he writes, "once every three years, in december and june, a human sacrifice used to be brought to bhadra kali, and, during the offering by the panikas, the people exclaimed 'al amma' (a man, oh mother), but once a devotee shouted 'al all amma, adu' (not a man, oh mother, a goat), and since that time a he-goat without blemish has been sacrificed. similarly, in bellur, once a year, by turns from each house, a man was sacrificed by cutting off his head at the temple; but, when the turn came to a certain home, the devoted victim made his escape to the jungle. the villagers, after an unsuccessful search, returned to the temple, and said to the pujari (priest) 'kalak adu,' which has a double meaning, viz., kalake next year, adu he will give, or adu a goat, and thenceforth only scapegoats were offered." human sacrifice is considered efficacious in appeasing the earth spirit, and in warding off devils during the construction of a new railway or big bridge. to the influence of such evil spirits the death of several workmen by accident in a cutting on the railway, which was under construction at cannanore in malabar, was attributed. a legend is current at anantapur that, on one occasion, the embankment of the big tank breached. ganga, the goddess of water, entered the body of a woman, and explained through her that, if some one was thrown into the breach, she would cause no further damage. accordingly, one musalamma was thrown in, and buried within it. the spot is marked by several margosa (melia azadirachta) trees, and sheep, fowls, etc., are still occasionally offered to the girl who was thus sacrificed. when a tank bund (embankment) was under construction in mysore, there was a panic among the workmen, owing to a rumour that three virgins were going to be sacrificed. when a mantapam or shrine was consecrated, a human sacrifice was formerly considered necessary, but a cocoanut is now sometimes used as a substitute. at kalasapad in the cuddapah district, a missionary told bishop whitehead that, when a new ward was opened at the mission dispensary in , none would enter it, because the people believed that the first to enter would be offered as a sacrifice. their fears were allayed by a religious service. during the building of a tower at the madras museum, just before the big granite blocks were placed in position, the coolies contented themselves with the sacrifice of a goat. on the completion of a new building, some castes on the west coast sacrifice a fowl or sheep, to drive away the devils, which are supposed to haunt it. in a field outside a village in south canara, mr walhouse noticed a large square marked in lines with whitewash on the ground, with magic symbols in the corners, and the outline of a human figure rudely drawn in the middle. flowers and boiled rice had been laid on leaves round the figure. he was informed that a house was to be built on the site marked out, and the figure was intended to represent the earth spirit supposed to be dwelling in the ground (or a human sacrifice?). without this ceremony being performed before the earth was dug up, it was believed that there would be no luck about the house. [ ] belief in the efficacy of human sacrifice as a means of discovering hidden treasure is widespread. it is recorded by mr walhouse [ ] that "one of the native notions respecting p­andu kuli, or kistvaens, is that men of old constructed them for the purpose of hiding treasure. hence it is that antiquarians find so many have been ransacked. it is also believed that spells were placed over them as a guard, the strongest being to bury a man alive in the cairn, and bid his ghost protect the deposit against any but the proprietor. the ghost would conceal the treasure from all strangers, or only be compelled to disclose it by a human sacrifice being offered." many beliefs exist with regard to the purpose for which the large prehistoric burial jars, such as are found in various parts of southern india, were manufactured. in travancore, some believe that they were made to contain the remains of virgins sacrificed by the rajas on the boundaries of their estates, to protect them. [ ] according to another idea, the jars were made for the purpose of burying alive in them old women who refused to die. in a note on the velamas of the godavari district, mr f. r. hemingway writes that they admit that they always arrange for a mala (telugu pariah) couple to marry, before they have a marriage in their own houses, and that they provide the necessary funds for the mala marriage. they explain the custom by a story to the effect that a mala once allowed a velama to sacrifice him in order to obtain a hidden treasure, and they say that this custom is observed out of gratitude for the discovery of the treasure which resulted. the rev. j. cain gives a similar custom among the velamas of bhadrachalam in the godavari district, only in this case it is a palli (fisherman) who has to be married. some years ago, a native of the west coast, believing that treasure was hidden on his property, took council with an astrologer, who recommended the performance of a human sacrifice, which happily was averted. on one occasion, a little brahman girl is said to have been decoyed when on her way to school, and murdered in the god's room at a temple in vellore, in which treasure was supposed to be concealed. in , a native of the bellary district was tried for the murder of his child, in the belief that hidden treasure would thereby be revealed to him. the man, whose story i heard from himself in the lock-up, had apparently implicit faith that the god would bring the child to life again. the case, as recorded in the judgment of the sessions judge, was as follows:-- "the prisoner has made two long statements to the magistrate, in each of which he explains why he killed the child. from these statements it appears that he had been worshipping at the temple of kona irappa for six or seven years, and that, on one or more occasions, the god appeared to him, and said: 'i am much pleased with your worship. there is wealth under me. to whom else should it be given but you?' the god asked the prisoner to sacrifice sheep and buffaloes, and also said: 'give your son's head. you know that a head should be given to the god who confers a boon. i shall raise up your son, and give you the wealth which is under me.' at that time, the prisoner had only one son--the deceased boy was not then born. the prisoner said to the god: 'i have only one son. how can i give him?' the god replied: 'a son will be born. do not fear me. i shall revive the son, and give you wealth.' within one year, the deceased boy was born. this increased the prisoner's faith in the god, and it is apparent from his own statement that he has for some time past been contemplating human sacrifice. he was advised not to sacrifice the son, and for a time was satisfied with sacrificing a buffalo and goats, but, as a result, did not succeed in getting the wealth that he was anxious to secure. the prisoner says he dug up some portion of the temple, but the temple people did not let him dig further. the boy was killed on a sunday, because the prisoner says that the god informed him that the human sacrifice should be on the child's birthday, which was a sunday. the prisoner mentions in his statement how he took the child to the temple on the sunday morning, and cut him with a sword. having done so, he proceeded to worship, saying: 'i offered a head to the bestower of boons. give boons, resuscitate my son, and show me wealth.' while the prisoner was worshipping the god, and waiting for the god to revive his son, the reddi (headman) and the police came to the temple, and interrupted the worship. the prisoner believes that thereby the god was prevented from reviving the son.... the facts seem to be clear. the man's mind is sound in every respect but as regards this religious delusion. on that point, it is unsound." a bad feature of the case, which was reckoned against the prisoner, was that he deferred the sacrifice until a second son was born, so that, in any case, he was not left without male issue. it was laid down by manu that a man is perfect when he consists of three--himself, his wife, and his son. in the rig veda it is laid down that, when a father sees the face of a living son, he pays a debt in him, and gains immortality. in sanskrit works, putra, or son, is defined as one who delivers a parent from a hell called put, into which those who have no son fall. hence the anxiety of hindus to marry, and beget male offspring. a few years ago, in the mysore province, two men were charged with the kidnapping and murder of a female infant, and one was sentenced to transportation for life. the theory of the prosecution was that the child was killed, in order that it might be offered as a sacrifice with the object of securing hidden treasure, which was believed to be buried near the scene of the murder. a witness gave evidence to the effect that the second accused was the pujari (priest) of a gangamma temple. he used to tell people that there was hidden treasure, and that, if a human sacrifice were offered, the treasure might be acquired. he used to make puja, and tie yantrams (charms). he also made special pujas, and exorcised devils. another witness testified that her mother had buried some treasure during her lifetime, and she asked the pujari to discover it. he came to her house, made an earthen image, and did puja to it. he dug the ground in three places, but no treasure was found. in dealing with the evidence in the court of appeal, the judges stated that "it is well known that ignorant persons have various superstitions about the discovery of hidden treasure, and the facts that the second accused either shared such superstitious beliefs, or traded on the credulity of his neighbours by his pretensions of special occult power, and that a sanyasi (religious mendicant) had some four years ago given out that treasure might be discovered by means of a human sacrifice, cannot justify any inference that the second accused would have acted on the last suggestion, especially when the witnesses cannot even say that the second accused heard the sanyasi's suggestion." the temple was searched, and the following articles were found:--three roots of the banyan tree having suralay (coil), a suralay of the banyan tree, round which two roots were entwined, a piece of banyan root, and a wheel (alada chakra) made of banyan root. besides, there were a copper armlet, copper thyati (charm cylinder), nine copper plates, on which letters were engraved, a copper mokka mattoo (copper plate bearing figures of deities), a piece of thread coloured red, white and black, for tying yantrams, a tin case containing kappu (a black substance), a ball of human hair, and a pen-knife. there was also a dealwood box containing books and papers relating to bhuta vidya (black art). a man was accused in , in the kurnool district, of stabbing a supposed wizard in the darkest hours of a new-moon night. in the course of his judgment, the judge stated that "what may be taken as the facts of the case are very curious. the accused and his elder brother saw an 'iguana' (lizard) run from the foot of a hill. this is supposed to be one of the signs of buried treasure. they killed the animal (and ate it eventually), and dug, and found, where it had slept, treasure in the shape of a pot full of old-time pagodas (gold coins). now a goddess (called here shatti, i.e., sakti) is supposed to guard such buried treasure, and the finder ought to sacrifice a cock to the goddess before receiving the treasure. the brother of the accused neglected to do so, and came to the deceased, who was supposed to be a warlock, though his wife represents him to be merely a worshipper of vira brahma, and a distributor of holy water (thirtham) and holy ashes to people possessed with devils. the deceased gave holy water to pedda pichivadu to avert ill-luck, but the man suddenly died from running a thorn into his foot, and his leg swelling in consequence. about the same time, the accused's younger brother got palsy in his head, and the deceased failed to cure him, though he made the attempt." at girigehalli in the anantapur district, there is a temple, concerning which the story goes that the stomach of the goddess was once opened by an avaricious individual, who expected to find treasure within it. the goddess appeared to him in a dream, and said that he should suffer like pain to that which he had inflicted upon her, and he shortly afterwards died of some internal complaint. [ ] in the cuddapah district, many of the inhabitants are said [ ] to believe that there is much treasure hidden from the troublous days of the eighteenth century, but they have a superstitious dread against looking for it, since the successful finder would be smitten by the guardian demon with a sudden and painful death. the panos (hill weavers) of ganjam are said, on more than one occasion, to have rifled the grave of a european, in the belief that buried treasure would be found. many years ago, a woman was supposed to be possessed with a devil, and an exorcist was consulted, who declared that a human sacrifice was necessary. a victim was selected, and made very drunk. his head was cut off, and the blood, mixed with rice, was offered to the idol. the body was then hacked so as to deceive the police, and thrown into a pond. [ ] at a village near berhampur in ganjam, mr s. p. rice tells us, [ ] a number of villagers went out together. by and bye, according to a preconcerted plan, one of the party suggested a drink. the intended victim was drugged, and taken along to the statue of the goddess, or shrine containing what did duty for the statue. he was then thrown down with his face on the ground in an attitude suggesting supplication, and, while he was still in a state of stupor, his head was chopped off with an axe. it is narrated by chevers [ ] that, in , a religious mendicant, on his way back from ramesvaram, located himself in a village near ramnad, and gave himself out to be gifted with the power of working miracles. one evening, the chucklers (leather-workers) of the village, observing crows and vultures hovering near a group of trees, and suspecting that there was carrion for them to feast upon, were tempted to visit the spot, where they found a corpse, mangled most fearfully, and with the left hand and right leg cut off. many nails were driven into the head, a garland was placed round the neck, and the forehead smeared with sandal paste. it was rumoured that a certain person was ailing, and that the holy man decreed that nothing short of a human sacrifice could save him, and that the victim should bear his name. the holy man disappeared, but was captured shortly afterwards. a copper-plate grant, acquired a few years ago at tirupati, and believed to be a forgery, records that a temple car was made for the goddess kalikadevi of conjeeveram by certain panchalans (members of the artisan classes). while it was being taken to the temple, a magician stopped it by means of incantations. the help of another magician was sought, and he cut off the head of his pregnant daughter, suspended it to the car, and performed certain rites. the car then moved, and the woman, whose head was cut off, was brought back to life. a somewhat similar legend is recorded in another copper-plate grant discovered in in the north arcot district, which is also believed to be a forgery. it is there stated that the five castes of artisans made a bell-metal car for the kamakshiamman temple at conjeeveram. members of these five castes, belonging to the left-hand faction, commenced to drag it, but seniyasingapuli, belonging to the right-hand faction, by means of magical powers, raised a thousand evil spirits against each wheel, and arrested its progress. a woman, named mangammal, offered to sacrifice her son, and the artisans accordingly purchased the boy, saying that they would give her a head equal to that of a new-born child. eventually, mangammal herself laid down before the car. her head was cut off, and hung at the top of the car. her abdomen was torn open, and the foetus removed therefrom, and dedicated to the evil spirit. the headless trunk was buried in the path of the wheels. viii magic and human life some of the cases here brought together serve as an illustration of the difficulty which frequently arises in arriving at a decision as to how far the taking of human life is justified as being carried out in accordance with a genuine superstitious belief, and when the act renders the perpetrator thereof liable to punishment under the indian penal code. five persons were charged a few years ago at the coimbatore sessions with the murder of a young woman. the theory put forward by the prosecution was that two of the accused practised sorcery, and were under the delusion that, if they could obtain the foetus from the uterus of a woman who was carrying her first child, they would be able to work some wonderful spells with it. with this object, they entered into a conspiracy with the three other accused to murder a young married woman, aged about seventeen, who was seven months advanced in pregnancy, and brutally murdered her, cutting open the uterus, removing the foetus contained therein, and stealing her jewels. the five accused persons (three men and two women) were all of different castes. two of the men had been jointly practising sorcery for some years. it was proved that, about two years before, they had performed an incantation near a river with some raw beef, doing puja (worship) near the water's edge in a state of nature. evidence was produced to prove that two of the accused decamped after the murder with a suspicious bundle, a few days before an eclipse of the moon, to tiruchengodu where there is a celebrated temple. it was suggested that the bundle contained the uterus, and was taken to tiruchengodu for the purpose of performing magical rites. when the quarters in which two of the accused lived were searched, three palm-leaf books were found containing mantrams regarding the pilli suniyam, a process of incantation by means of which sorcerers are supposed to be able to kill people. the record of the case states that "there can be little doubt that the first and fourth accused were taken into the conspiracy in order to decoy the deceased. the inducement offered to them was most probably immense wealth by the working of charms by the second and third accused with the aid of the foetus. the medical evidence showed that the dead woman was pregnant, and that, after her throat had been cut, the uterus was taken out." in , several natives of malabar were charged with having proceeded, in company with a paraiyan magician, to the house of a pregnant woman, who was beaten and otherwise ill-treated, and with having taken the foetus out of her uterus, and introduced in lieu thereof the skin of a calf and an earthen pot. the prisoners confessed before the police, but were acquitted mainly on the ground that the earthen pot was of a size which rendered it impossible to credit its introduction during life. the paraiyas of malabar and cochin are celebrated for their magical powers, and the practice of odi. "there are," mr govinda nambiar writes, [ ] "certain specialists among mantravadis (dealers in magical spells), who are known as odiyans. conviction is deep-rooted that they have the power of destroying whomever they please, and that, by means of a powerful bewitching matter called pilla thilum (oil extracted from the body of an infant), they are enabled to transform themselves into any shape or form, or even to vanish into air, as their fancy may suggest. when an odiyan is hired to cause the death of a man, he waits during the night at the gate of his intended victim's house, usually in the form of a bullock. if, however, the person is inside the house, the odiyan assumes the shape of a cat, enters the house, and induces him to come out. he is subsequently knocked down and strangled. the odiyan is also credited with the power, by means of certain medicines, of inducing sleeping persons to open the doors, and come out of their houses as somnambulists do. pregnant women are sometimes induced to come out of their houses in this way, and they are murdered, and the foetus extracted from them. murder of both sexes by odiyans was a crime of frequent occurrence before the british occupation of the country." in a case which was tried at the malabar sessions a few years ago, several witnesses for the prosecution deposed that a certain individual was killed by odi. one man gave the following account of the process. shoot the victim in the nape of the neck with a blunt arrow, and bring him down. proceed to beat him systematically all over the body with two sticks (resembling a policeman's truncheon, and called odivaddi), laying him on his back and applying the sticks to his chest, and up and down the sides, breaking all the ribs and other bones. then raise the person, and kick his sides. after this, force him to take an oath that he will never divulge the names of his torturer. all the witnesses agreed about the blunt arrow, and some bore testimony to the sticks. a detailed account of the odi cult, from which the following information was obtained, is given by mr anantha krishna iyer. [ ] the disciple is taught how to procure pilla thilum (foetus oil) from the six or seven months foetus of a young woman in her first pregnancy. he (the paraiyan magician) sets out at midnight from his hut to the house of the woman he has selected, round which he walks several times, shaking a cocoanut containing gurasi (a compound of water, lime, and turmeric), and muttering some mantrams to invoke the aid of his deity. he also draws a yantram (cabalistic figure) on the earth, taking special care to observe the omens as he starts. should they be unfavourable, he puts it off for a more favourable opportunity. by the potency of his cult, the woman is made to come out. even if the door of the room in which she might sleep be under lock and key, she would knock her head against it until she found her way out. she thus comes out, and yields herself to the influence of the magician, who leads her to a retired spot either in the compound (grounds), or elsewhere in the neighbourhood, strips her naked, and tells her to lie flat. she does so, and a chora kindi (gourd, lagenaria) is placed close to the uterus. the foetus comes out in a moment. a few leaves of some plant are applied, and the uterus contracts. sometimes the womb is filled with rubbish, and the woman instantly dies. care is taken that the foetus does not touch the ground, lest the purpose be defeated, and the efficacy of the medicine completely lost. it is cut into pieces, dried, and afterwards exposed to the smoke above a fireplace. it is then placed in a vessel provided with a hole or two, below which there is another vessel. the two together are placed in a larger vessel filled with water, and heated over a bright fire. the heat must be so intense as to affect the foetus, from which a kind of liquid drops, and collects in the second vessel in an hour and a half. the magician then takes a human skull, and reduces it to a fine powder. this is mixed with a portion of the liquid. a mark is made on the forehead with this mixture, and the oil is rubbed on certain parts of the body, and he drinks some cow-dung water. he then thinks that he can assume the figure of any animal he likes, and successfully achieves the object in view, which is generally to murder or maim a person. a magic oil, called angola thilum, is extracted from the angola tree (alangium lamarckii), which bears a very large number of fruits. one of these is believed to be capable of descending and returning to its position on dark nights. its possession can be secured by demons, or by an expert watching at the foot of the tree. when it has been secured, the extraction of the oil involves the same operations as those for extracting the pilla thilum, and they must be carried out within seven hours. the odi cult is said to have been practised by the paraiyas some twenty years ago to a very large extent in the rural parts of the northern division of the cochin state, and in the taluks of palghat and valuvanad, and even now it has not quite died out. cases of extracting the foetus, and of putting persons to death by odi, are not now heard of owing to the fear of government officials, landlords, and others. of the odi cult as practised by the panan magicians of the cochin state, the following account is given by mr anantha krishna iyer. [ ] "a panan, who is an adept in the black art, dresses in an unwashed cloth, and performs puja to his deity, after which he goes in search of a kotuveli plant (plumbago zeylanica). when he has found it, he goes round it three times every day, and continues to do so for ninety days, prostrating himself every day before it, and on the last night, which must be a new moon night, at midnight, he performs puja to the plant, burning camphor and frankincense, and, after going round it three times, prostrates himself before it. he then thrusts three small candles on it, and advances twenty paces in front of it. with his mouth closed, he plucks the root, and buries it in the ashes on the cremation ground, after which he pours the water of seven green cocoanuts on it. he then goes round it twenty-one times, uttering all the while certain mantrams. this being over, he plunges himself in water, and stands erect until it extends to his mouth. he takes a mouthful of water which he empties on the spot, and takes the plant with the root which he believes to possess peculiar virtues. when it is taken to the closed door of a house, it has the power to entice a pregnant woman, and cause her to come out, when the foetus is removed. it is all secretly done at midnight. the head, hands, and legs are cut off, and the trunk is taken to a dark-coloured rock, on which it is cut into nine pieces, which are burned until they are blackened. at this stage one piece boils, and it is placed in a new earthen pot, to which is added the water of nine green cocoanuts. the pot is removed to the burial ground, where the panan performs a puja in honour of his favourite deity. he fixes two poles deep in the earth, at a distance of thirty feet from each other. the two poles are connected by a strong wire, from which is suspended the pot to be heated and boiled. seven fireplaces are made beneath the wire, over the middle of which is the pot. the branches of bamboo, katalati (achyranthes aspera), conga (bauhinia variegata), cocoanut palm, jack tree (artocarpus integrifolia), and pavatta (pavetta indica), are used in forming a bright fire. the mixture in the pot soon boils and becomes oily, at which stage it is passed through a fine cloth. the oil is preserved, and a mark made with it on the forehead enables the possessor to realise anything which is thought of. the sorcerer must be in a state of vow for twenty-one days, and live on a diet of chama kanji (gruel). the deity whose aid is necessary is also propitiated by offerings." in , the following case, relating to the birth of a monster, was tried before the sessions judge of south canara. a young gauda girl became pregnant by her brother-in-law. after three days' labour, the child was born. the accused, who was the mother of the girl, was the midwife. finding the delivery very difficult, she sent for a person to come and help her. the child was, as they thought, still-born. on its head was a red protuberance like a ball; round each of its forearms were two or three red bands; the eyes and ears were fixed very high in the head; and the eyes, nose, and mouth were abnormally large. the mother was carried out of the outhouse, lest the devil child should do her harm, or kill her. the accused summoned a muhammadan, who was in the yard. he came in, and she showed him the child, and asked him to call the neighbours, to decide what to do. the child, she said, was a devil child, and must be cut and killed, lest it should devour the mother. while they were looking at the child, it began to move and roll its eyes about, and turn on the ground. it is a belief of the villagers that such a devil child, when brought in contact with the air, rapidly grows, and causes great trouble, usually killing the mother, and sometimes killing all the inmates of the house. the accused told the muhammadan to cover the child with a vessel, which he did. then there was a sound from inside the vessel, either of the child moving, or making a sound with its mouth. the accused then put her hand under the vessel, dragged the child half-way out, and, while the muhammadan pressed the edge of the vessel on the abdomen of the child, took a knife, and cut the body in half. when the body was cut in two, there was no blood, but a mossy-green or black liquid oozed out. the accused got two areca leaves, and put one piece of the child on one, and one on the other, and told the muhammadan to get a spade, and bury them. so they went to the jungle close to the house, and the muhammadan dug two holes, one on one hillock, and one on another. in these holes, the two pieces of the child were buried. the object of this was to prevent the two pieces joining together again, in which case the united devil child would have come out of the grave, and gone to kill the mother. years ago, it was not unusual for people to come long distances for the purpose of engaging paniyans of the wynad (in malabar) to help them in carrying out some more than usually desperate robbery or murder. their mode of procedure, when engaged in an enterprise of this sort, is evidenced by two cases, which had in them a strong element of savagery. on both these occasions, the thatched homesteads were surrounded at dead of night by gangs of paniyans carrying large bundles of rice straw. after carefully piling up the straw on all sides of the building marked for destruction, torches were at a given signal applied, and those of the inmates who attempted to escape were knocked on the head with clubs, and thrust into the fiery furnace. in , some paniyans were employed by a mappilla (muhammadan) to murder his mistress, who was pregnant, and threatened that she would noise abroad his responsibility for her condition. he brooded over the matter, and one day, meeting a paniyan, promised him ten rupees if he would kill the woman. the paniyan agreed to commit the crime, and went with his brothers to a place on a hill, where the mappilla and the woman were in the habit of gratifying their passions. thither the man and woman followed the paniyans, of whom one ran out, and struck the victim on the head with a chopper. she was then gagged with a cloth, carried some distance, and killed. in , the inhabitants of several villages in malabar attacked a village of paraiyans on the alleged ground that deaths of people and cattle, and the protracted labour of a woman in childbed, had been caused by the practice of sorcery by the paraiyans. they were beaten inhumanely with their hands tied behind their backs, so that several died. the villagers were driven, bound, into a river, immersed under water so as nearly to produce suffocation, and their own children were forced to rub sand into their wounds. their settlement was then razed to the ground, and they were driven into banishment. the kadirs of the anaimalais are believers in witchcraft, and attribute diseases to the working thereof. they are expert exorcists, and trade in mantravadam or magic. it is recorded by mr logan [ ] that "the family of famous trackers, whose services in the jungles were retained for h.r.h. the prince of wales's (afterwards king edward vii.) projected sporting tour in the anamalai mountains, dropped off most mysteriously one by one, stricken down by an unseen hand, and all of them expressing beforehand their conviction that they were under a certain individual's spell, and were doomed to certain death at an early date. they were probably poisoned, but how it was managed remains a mystery, although the family was under the protection of a european gentleman, who would at once have brought to light any ostensible foul play." the badagas of the nilgiris live in dread of the jungle kurumbas, who constantly come under reference in their folk-stories. the kurumba is the necromancer of the hills, and believed to be possessed of the power of outraging women, removing their livers, and so causing their death, while the wound heals by magic, so that no trace of the operation is left. the badaga's dread of the kurumba is said to be so great, that a simple threat of vengeance has proved fatal. the badaga or toda requires the services of the kurumba, when he fancies that any member of his family is possessed by a devil. the kurumba does his best to remove the malady by means of mantrams (magical formulæ). if he fails, and if any suspicion is aroused in the mind of the badaga or toda that he is allowing the devil to play his pranks instead of loosing his hold on the supposed victim, woe betide him. writing in , harkness states [ ] that "a very few years before, a burgher (badaga) had been hanged by the sentence of the provincial court for the murder of a kurumba. the act of the former was not without what was considered great provocation. disease had attacked the inhabitants of the hamlet, a murrain their cattle. the former had carried off a great part of the family of the murderer, and he himself had but narrowly escaped its effects. no one in the neighbourhood doubted that the kurumba in question had, by his necromancy, caused all this misfortune, and, after several fruitless attempts, a party of them succeeded in surrounding him in open day, and effecting their purpose." in , no less than fifty-eight kurumbas were murdered, and a smaller number in and . in , the inmates of a single kurumba hut were said to have been murdered, and the hut burnt to ashes, because one of the family had been treating a sick badaga child, and failed to cure it. the district judge, however, disbelieved the evidence, and all who were charged were acquitted. again, in , a whole family of kurumbas was murdered, of which the head, who had a reputation as a medicine man, was believed to have brought disease and death into a badaga village. the sympathies of the whole countryside were so strongly with the murderers that detection was made very difficult, and the persons charged were acquitted. [ ] "it is," mr grigg writes, [ ] "a curious fact that neither kota, irula, or badaga, will slay a kurumba, until a toda has struck the first blow, but, as soon as his sanctity has been violated by a blow, they hasten to complete the murderous work, which the sacred hand of the toda has begun." some years ago, a toda was found dead in a sitting posture on the top of a hill near a badaga village, in which a party of todas had gone to collect the tribute due to them. the body was cremated, and a report made to the police that the man had been murdered. on enquiry, it was ascertained that the dead man was supposed to have bewitched a little badaga girl, who died in consequence, and the presumption was that he had been murdered by the badagas out of spite. in , two men were found guilty of killing a man by shooting him with a gun in south canara. it is recorded in the judgment that "the accused have a brother, who has been ill for a long time. they thought deceased, who was an astrologer and mantravadi, had bewitched him. they had spent fifty or sixty rupees on deceased for his treatment, but it did no good, and accused came to believe that deceased not only would not cure their brother himself, but would not allow other doctors to do so. also, a certain theft having occurred some months ago, deceased professed by his magic arts to have discovered that accused and others were the thieves. in consequence of these things, accused had expressed various threats against deceased. one witness, who is a mantravadi in a small way, was consulted by one of the accused to find some counter-treatment for deceased's bewitchment. accused said that deceased refused to cure their brother, and would not let others do so, unless they gave him certain gold coins called rama tanka, said to be in their possession. they desired this possession, so would not satisfy deceased. so their brother was dying by inches under deceased's malign influence. this witness professed to have discovered that accused's brother was being worried by one black devil and two malignant spirits of the dead. it is clear from the evidence that accused, who are ignorant men of a low type, really believed that deceased was by his magic wilfully and slowly killing their brother. they believed that the only way to save their brother's life was to kill the magician." during an epidemic of smallpox in the jeypore hill tracts, a man lost his wife and child. a local subscription had been organised for a sorcerer, on the understanding that he was to stay the course of the epidemic. the bereaved man charged him with being a fraud, and, in the course of a quarrel, split his skull open with a tangi (axe). in , a komati woman died of cholera in a village in ganjam. her son sought the assistance of certain men of the "reddika" caste in obtaining wood for the pyre, carrying the corpse to the burning-ground, and cremating it. the son set fire to the pyre, and withdrew, leaving the reddikas on the spot. among them was one, who is said to have learnt sorcery from a bairagi (religious mendicant), and to have been generally feared and hated in the village. to him the spread of cholera by letting loose the goddess of the cremation-ground, called mashani chendi, was attributed. arrack (liquor) was passed round among those who were attending to the burning corpse, and they got more or less drunk. two of them killed the sorcerer by severe blows on the neck with wood-choppers. his corpse was then placed on the burning pyre of the komati woman, and cremated. the men who delivered the death blows were sentenced to transportation for life, as their intoxicated state and superstitious feeling were held to plead in mitigation of the punishment. in a case illustrating the prevailing belief in witchcraft occurred in the vizagapatam hill tracts. the youngest of three brothers died of fever, and, when the body was cremated, the fire failed to consume the upper portion. the brothers concluded that death must have been caused by the witchcraft of a certain kondh. they accordingly attacked him, and killed him. after death, the brothers cut the body in half and dragged the upper half of it to their own village, where they attempted to nail it up on the spot where their deceased brother's body failed to burn. they were arrested on the spot, with the fragment of the kondh's corpse. they were sentenced to death. [ ] in the north arcot district, a few years ago, a reputed magician, while collecting the pieces of a burning corpse, to be used for the purposes of sorcery, was seized and murdered, and his body cast on the burning pyre. from the recovery of duplicate bones, it was proved that two bodies were burnt, and the murder was detected. two persons were sentenced to transportation for life. [ ] ix magic and magicians it has been stated [ ] that sorcerers usually unite together to form a society, which may attain great influence among backward races. in southern india there are certain castes which are summed up in the "madras census report," , as "exorcists and devil-dancers," whose most important avocation is the practice of magic. such, for example, are the nalkes, paravas, and pompadas of south canara, who are called in whenever a bhutha (demon) is to be propitiated, and the panans and malayans of malabar, whose magical rites are described by me in detail elsewhere. [ ] concerning sorcery on the west coast, the travancore census commissioner, , writes as follows:-- "the forms of sorcery familiar to the people of malabar are of three kinds:--( ) kaivisham, or poisoning food by incantations; ( ) the employment of kuttichattan, a mysteriously-working mischievous imp; ( ) setting up spirits to haunt men and their houses, and cause illness of all kinds. the most mischievous imp in malabar demonology is an annoying quip-loving little spirit, as black as night, and about the size of a well-nourished twelve-year-old boy. some people say that they have seen him vis-à-vis, having a forelock. there are nambutiris (brahmans) in malabar to whom these are so many missiles, which they may throw at anybody they choose. they are, like shakespeare's ariel, little active bodies, and most willing slaves of the master under whom they happen to be placed. their victims suffer from unbearable agony. their clothes take fire; their food turns to ordure; their beverages become urine; stones fall in showers on all sides of them, but curiously not on them; and their bed becomes a bed of thorns. with all this annoying mischief, kuttichattan or boy satan does no serious harm. he oppresses and harasses, but never injures. a celebrated brahman of changanacheri is said to own more than a hundred of these chattans. household articles and jewelry of value may be left in the premises of homes guarded by chattan, and no thief dares to lay his hand on them. the invisible sentry keeps diligent watch over his master's property, and has unchecked powers of movement in any medium. as remuneration for all these services, the chattan demands nothing but food, but that in a large measure. if starved, the chattans would not hesitate to remind the master of their power, but, if ordinarily cared for, they would be his most willing drudges. as a safeguard against the infinite power secured for the master by kuttichattan, it is laid down that malign acts committed through his instrumentality recoil on the prompter, who dies either childless or after frightful physical and mental agony. another method of oppressing humanity, believed to be in the power of sorcerers, is to make men and women possessed with spirits. here, too, women are more subject to their evil influence than men. delayed puberty, permanent sterility, and still-births, are not uncommon ills of a devil-possessed woman. sometimes the spirits sought to be exorcised refuse to leave the victim, unless the sorcerer promises them a habitation in his own compound (grounds), and arranges for daily offerings being given. this is agreed to as a matter of unavoidable necessity, and money and lands are conferred upon the mantravadi nambutiri to enable him to fulfil his promise." reference has been made (p. ) to the falling of stones round those attacked by chattans. hysteria, epilepsy, and other disorders, are, in malabar, ascribed to possession by devils, who can also cause cattle disease, accidents, and misfortunes of any kind. throwing stones on houses, and setting fire to the thatch, are supposed to be their ordinary recreations. the mere mention of the name of a certain nambutiri family is said to be enough to drive them away. [ ] a few years ago, an old brahman woman, in the bellary district, complained to the police that a sudra woman living in her neighbourhood, and formerly employed by her as sweeper, had been throwing stones into her house for some nights. the woman admitted that she had done so, because she was advised by a lingayat priest that the remedy for intermittent fever, from which she was suffering, was to throw stones at an old woman, and extract some blood from her body on a new or full-moon day. some demons are believed to have human mistresses and concubines, and it is narrated [ ] that a chetti (merchant) in the tamil country purchased a malabar demon from a magician for ninety rupees. but hardly a day had passed before the undutiful spirit fell in love with its new owner's wife, and succeeded in its nefarious purpose. quite recently a woman, in order to win the affection of her husband, gave him a love-charm composed of datura in chutney. the dose proved fatal, and she was sentenced to two years' rigorous imprisonment. [ ] a love-philtre, said to be composed of the charred remains of a mouse and spider, was once sent to the chemical examiner to government for analysis in a suspected case of poisoning. in connection with the dugong (halicore dugong), which is caught in the gulf of manaar, dr annandale writes as follows [ ]:-- "the presence of large glands in connection with the eye afford some justification for the malay's belief that the dugong weeps when captured. they regard the tears of the ikan dugong (dugong fish) as a powerful love-charm. muhammadan fishermen of the gulf of manaar appeared to be ignorant of this usage, but told me that a 'doctor' once went out with them to collect the tears of a dugong, should they capture one." native physicians in the tamil country are said to prepare an unguent, into the composition of which the eye of the slender loris (loris gracilis), the brain of the dead offspring of a primipara, and the catamenial blood of a young virgin, enter, as an effective preparation in necromancy. the eye of the loris is also used for making a preparation, which is believed to enable the possessor to kidnap and seduce women. the tail of a chamæleon, secured on a sunday, is also believed to be an excellent love-charm. a young married student at a college in madras attributed his illness to the administration by his wife of a love-philtre containing the brains of a baby which had been exhumed after burial. among the tamil paraiyans and some other classes, a first-born child, if it is a male, is buried near or even within the house, so that its corpse may not be carried away by a sorcerer, to be used in magical rites. [ ] if a first-born child dies, a finger is sometimes cut off, lest a sorcerer should dig up the body, and extract an essence (karuvu) from the brain, wherewith to harm his enemies. [ ] the rev. j. castets informs me that he once saw a man being initiated into the mysteries of the magician's art. the apparatus included the top of the skull of a first-born male child inscribed with tamil characters. a station-house police officer informed mr s. g. roberts that first-born children, dying in infancy, are buried near the house, lest their heads should be used in sorcery, a sort of ink or decoction (mai) being distilled from them. this ink is used for killing people at a distance, or for winning a woman's love, or the confidence of those from whom some favour is required. in the last two cases, the ink is smeared over the eyebrows. it is believed that, if an infant's head is used for this purpose, the mother will never have a living child. when mr roberts was at salem, he had to try a case of this practice, and the public prosecutor informed him that it is believed that, if a hole is made in the top of the head of the infant when it is buried, it cannot be effectively used in sorcery. in the trichinopoly district, the police brought to mr roberts' notice a sorcerer's outfit, which had been seized. there were the most frightful tamil curses invoking devils, written backwards in "looking-glass characters" on an olai (strip of palm leaf), and a looking-glass to read them by. spells written backwards are said to be very potent. there was also a small round tin, containing a black treacly paste with a sort of shine on it, which was said to have been obtained from the head of a dead child. there is a tamil proverb "kuzhi pillai, madi pillai," meaning grave child, lap child, in reference to a belief that, the quicker a first-born child is buried, the quicker is the next child conceived. the following form of sorcery in malabar is described by mr walhouse. [ ] "let a sorcerer obtain the corpse of a maiden, and on a saturday night place it at the foot of a bhuta-haunted tree on an altar, and repeat a hundred times: om! hrim! hrom! o goddess of malayala who possessest us in a moment! come! come! the corpse will then be inspired by a demon, and rise up; and, if the demon be appeased with flesh and arrack (liquor), it will answer all questions put to it." a human bone from a burial-ground, over which powerful mantrams have been recited, if thrown into an enemy's house, will cause his ruin. ashes from the burial-ground on which an ass has been rolling on a saturday or sunday, if thrown into the house of an enemy, are said to produce severe illness, if the house is not vacated. from malabar, a correspondent writes as follows:-- "i came across a funny thing in an embankment in a rice-field. the tender part of a young cocoanut branch had been cut into three strips, and the strips fastened one into the other in the form of a triangle. at the apex a reed was stuck, and along the base and sides small flowers, so that the thing looked like a ship in full sail. my inspector informed me, with many blushes, that it contained a devil, which the sorcerer of a neighbouring village had cut out of a young girl. mrs bishop, in her book on korea, mentions that the koreans do exactly the same thing, but, in korea, the devil's prison is laid by the wayside, and is carefully stepped over by every passer-by, whereas the one i saw was carefully avoided by my peons (orderlies) and others." in the godavari district, mr h. tyler came across the burning funeral pyre of a koyi girl, who had died of syphilis. across a neighbouring path leading to the koyi village was a basket fish-trap containing grass, and on each side thorny twigs, which were intended to catch the malign spirit of the dead girl, and prevent it from entering the village. the twigs and trap containing the spirit were to be burnt on the following day. by the dombs of vizagapatam, the souls of the dead are believed to roam about, so as to cause all possible harm to mankind, and also to protect them against the attacks of witches. a place is prepared for the duma in the door-hinge, or a fishing-net, wherein he lives, is placed over the door. the witches must count all the knots of the net, before they can enter the house. [ ] at cross-roads in the bellary district, geometric patterns are sometimes made at night by people suffering from disease, in the belief that the affliction will pass to the person who first treads on the charm. [ ] "at cross-roads in the south arcot district may be sometimes seen pieces of broken pot, saffron (turmeric), etc. these are traces of the following method of getting rid of an obstinate disease. a new pot is washed clean, and filled with a number of objects (the prescription differs in different localities), such as turmeric, coloured grains of rice, chillies, cotton-seed, and so forth, and sometimes a light made of a few threads dipped in a little dish of oil, and taken at dead of night to the cross-roads, and broken there. the disease will then disappear. in some places it is believed that it passes to the first person who sees the débris of the ceremony the next morning, and the performer has to be careful to carry it out unknown to his neighbours, or the consequences are unpleasant for him." [ ] some valaiyans, paraiyans, and kallans, on the occasion of a death in the family, place a pot filled with dung or water, a broomstick, and a firebrand, at some place where three roads meet, or in front of the house, to prevent the ghost from returning. [ ] when a paraiyan man dies, camphor is burnt, not at the house, but at the junction of three lanes. in the godavari district, a sorcerer known as the ejjugadu (male physician) is believed, out of spite or in return for payment, to kill another by invoking the gods. he goes to a green tree, and there spreads muggu or chunam (lime) powder, and places an effigy of the intended victim thereon. he also places a bow and arrow there, recites certain spells, and calls on the gods. the victim is said to die in a couple of days. but, if he understands that the ejjugadu has thus invoked the gods, he may inform another ejjugadu, who will carry out similar operations under another tree. his bow and arrow will go to those of the first ejjugadu, and the two bows and arrows will fight as long as the spell remains. the man will then be safe. writing concerning the nomad yerukalas, mr f. fawcett says [ ] that "the warlock takes the possessed one by night to the outskirts of the village, and makes a figure on the ground with powdered rice, powders of various colours, and powdered charcoal. balls of the powders, half cocoanut shells, betel, four-anna pieces, and oil lamps, are placed on the hands, legs, and abdomen. a little heap of boiled rice is placed near the feet, and curds and vegetables are set on the top of it, with limes placed here and there. the subject of the incantation sits near the head, while the magician mutters mantrams. a he-goat is then sacrificed. its head is placed near the foot of the figure, and benzoin and camphor are waved. a little grain is scattered about the figure to appease the evil spirits. some arrack is poured into a cup, which is placed on the body of the figure, and the bottle which contained it is left on the head. the limes are cut in two, and two cocoanuts are broken. the patient then walks by the left side of the figure to its legs, takes one step to the right towards the head, and one step to the left towards the feet, and walks straight home without looking back." in malabar, mr govinda nambiar writes, [ ] "when a village doctor attending a sick person finds that the malady is unknown to him, or will not yield to his remedies, he calls in the astrologer, and subsequently the exorcist, to expel the demon or demons which have possessed the sick man. if the devils will not yield to ordinary remedies administered by his disciples, the mantravadi himself comes, and a devil dance is appointed to be held on a certain day. thereat various figures of mystic device are traced on the ground, and in their midst a huge and frightful form representing the demon. sometimes an effigy is constructed out of cooked and coloured rice. the patient is seated near the head of the figure, and opposite sits the magician adorned with bundles of sticks tied over the joints of his body, tails, and skins of animals, etc. verses are chanted, and sometimes cocks are sacrificed, and the blood is sprinkled on the demon's effigy. amidst the beating of drums and blowing of pipes, the magician enters upon his diabolical dance, and, in the midst of his paroxysm, may even bite live cocks, and suck with ferocity the hot blood." when a malayan exorcist is engaged in propitiating a demon, a fowl is sometimes waved before him, and decapitated. he puts the neck in his mouth, and sucks the blood. by the tiyans of malabar a number of evil spirits are supposed to devote their attention to a pregnant woman, and to suck the blood of the child in utero, and of the mother. in the process of expelling them, the woman lies on the ground and kicks. a cock is thrust into her hand, and she bites it, and drinks its blood. it is noted by mr l. k. anantha krishna iyer that by the thanda pulayans of the west coast "a ceremony called urasikotukkuka is performed with the object of getting rid of a devil, with which a person is possessed. at a place far distant from the hut, a leaf, on which the blood of a fowl has been made to fall, is spread on the ground. on a smaller leaf, chunam and turmeric are placed. the person who first sets eyes on these becomes possessed by the devil, and sets free the individual who was previously under its influence. the thanda pulayans also practise maranakriyas, or sacrifices to demons, to bring about the death of an enemy. sometimes affliction is supposed to be brought about by the enmity of those who have got incantations written on a palm leaf, and buried in the ground near a house by the side of a well. a sorcerer is called in to counteract the evil charm, which he digs up and destroys." in a note on the paraiyas of travancore, [ ] the rev. s. mateer writes that sudras and shanars [ ] frequently employ the paraiya devil-dancers and sorcerers to search for and dig out magical charms buried in the earth by enemies, and counteract their enchantments. a form of sorcery in malabar called marana (destruction) is said by mr fawcett [ ] to be carried out in the following manner:-- "a figure representing the enemy to be destroyed is drawn on a small plate of metal (gold by preference), and to it some mystic diagrams are added. it is then addressed with a statement that bodily injury, or the death of the person, shall take place at a certain time. this little sheet is wrapped up in another metal sheet or leaf (of gold if possible), and buried in some place which the person to be injured or destroyed is in the habit of passing. should he pass over the place, it is supposed that the charm will take effect at the time named." one favourite tantra of the south indian sorcerer is said [ ] to consist of "what is popularly known in tamil as pavai, that is to say, a doll made of some plastic substance, such as clay or wheat-flour. a crude representation of the intended victim is obtained by moulding a quantity of the material, and a nail or pin is driven into it at a spot corresponding to the limb or organ that is intended to be affected. [ ] for instance, if there is to be paralysis of the right arm, the pin is stuck into the right arm of the image; if madness is to result, it is driven into the head, and so on, appropriate mantras being chanted over the image, which is buried at midnight in a neighbouring cremation ground. so long as the pavai is underground, the victim will grow from bad to worse, and may finally succumb, if steps are not taken in time. sometimes, instead of a doll being used, the corpse of a child recently buried is dug out of the ground, and re-interred after being similarly treated. the only remedy consists in another sorcerer being called in for the purpose of digging out the pavai. various are the methods he adopts for discovering the place where the doll is buried, one of them being very similar to what is known as crystal-gazing. a small quantity of a specially prepared thick black fluid is placed on the palm of a third person, and the magician professes to find out every circumstance connected with the case of his client's mental or physical condition by attentively looking at it. the place of the doll's burial is spotted with remarkable precision, the nail or pin extracted, and the patient is restored to his normal condition as by a miracle." the following form of sorcery resorted to in malabar in compassing the discomfiture of an enemy is recorded by mr walhouse. [ ] "make an image of wax in the form of your enemy; take it in your right hand at night, and hold your chain of beads in your left hand. then burn the image with due rites, and it shall slay your enemy in a fortnight. or a figure representing an enemy, with his name and date of his birth inscribed on it, is carved out of strychnos nux-vomica wood. a mantram is recited, a fowl offered up, and the figure buried in glowing rice-husk embers. or, again, some earth from a spot where an enemy has urinated, saliva expectorated by him, and a small tuft of hair, are placed inside a tender cocoanut, and enclosed in a piece of strychnos nux-vomica. the cocoanut is pierced with twenty-one nails and buried, and a fowl sacrificed." a police inspector, when visiting a village a few years ago, was told by one of the villagers that a man was going to bury two wax dolls, in order to cause his death. the inspector accordingly went to the house of the suspected enemy, where he found the two dolls, and some books on witchcraft. the native servant of a friend in madras found buried in a corner of his master's garden the image of a human figure, which had been deposited there by an enemy who wished to injure him. the figure was made of flour, mixed with "walking foot earth," i.e., earth from the ground, which the servant had walked over. nails, fourteen in number, had been driven into the head, neck, and each shoulder, elbow, wrist, hip, knee, and ankle. buried with the figure were fourteen eggs, limes, and balls of camphor, and a scrap of paper bearing the age of the servant, and the names of his father and mother. a muhammadan fortune-teller advised the servant to burn the image, so at midnight he made an offering of a sheep, camphor, betel nuts, and cocoanuts, and performed the cremation ceremony. in , a life-size nude female human figure with feet everted and directed backwards, carved out of the soft wood of alstonia scholaris, was washed ashore at calicut in malabar. long nails had been driven in all over the head, body, and limbs, and a large square hole cut out above the navel. inscriptions in arabic characters were scrawled over it. by a coincidence, the corpse of a man was washed ashore close to the figure. possibly it represented the figure of a woman who was possessed by an evil spirit, which was attached to it by a nail between the legs before it was cast into the sea, and was made on the laccadive islands, [ ] some of the residents on which are notorious necromancers. it has been suggested [ ] that the figure may represent some notorious witch; that the nails were driven into it, and the mutilation made in order to injure her, and the spells added to destroy her magical powers; finally, that the image was cast into the sea as a means of getting rid of the sorceress. there is a tradition that the goddess bhagavati, who is worshipped at kodungallur in malabar, was rescued by a fisherman when she was shut up in a jar, and thrown into the sea by a great magician. the lingadars of the kistna district are said [ ] to have made a specialty of bottling evil spirits, and casting the bottles away in some place where no one is likely to come across them, and liberate them. a few years ago, another wooden representation of a human being was washed ashore at calicut. the figure is inches in height. the arms are bent on the chest, and the palms of the hands are placed together as in the act of saluting. a square cavity, closed by a wooden lid, has been cut out of the abdomen, and contains apparently tobacco, ganja (indian hemp), and hair. an iron bar has been driven from the back of the head through the body, and terminates in the abdominal cavity. a sharp cutting instrument has been driven into the chest and back in twelve places. a life-size female figure, rudely scratched on a plank of wood, with arabic inscriptions scrawled on it, and riddled with nails, was washed ashore on the beach at tellicherry in malabar. in the same district, a friend once picked up on the shore at cannanore a wooden figure about inches high, riddled with nails. his wife's ayah implored him to get rid of it, as it would bring nothing but misfortune. he accordingly made a present of it to a recently married friend, whose subsequent career was characterised by a long series of strokes of bad luck, which his wife attributed entirely to the possession of the dreadful image. sometimes, in malabar, "a mantram is written on the stem of the kaitha plant, on which is also drawn a figure representing the person to be injured. a hole is bored to represent the navel. the mantram is repeated, and at each repetition a certain thorn (karamullu) is stuck into the limbs of the figure. the name of the person, and of the star under which he was born, are written on a piece of cadjan, which is stuck into the navel. the thorns are removed, and replaced twenty-one times. two magic circles are drawn below the nipples of the figure. the stem is then hung up in the smoke of the kitchen. a pot of toddy, and some other accessories, are procured, and with them the warlock performs certain rites. he then moves three steps backwards, and shouts aloud thrice, fixing in the thorns again, and thinking all the while of the particular mischief with which he will afflict the person to be injured. when all this has been done, the person whose figure has been drawn on the stem, and pricked with thorns, feels pain." [ ] the following variant of the above rite has been described [ ]:-- "a block of lead is moulded into the effigy of a man about a span in length. the stomach is opened, and the name and star of the intended victim are inscribed along with a charm on a lead plate, and placed therein. the effigy is laid recumbent on a plantain leaf, on which a little water mixed with sandal has first been sprinkled, and the smoke of an extinguished wick is passed thrice over it. then nine little square pieces of plantain leaf (or leaves of strychnos nux-vomica) are placed round the effigy, and in each square some rice-flour, and chouflower petals. beside the effigy are shells holding toddy and arrack (liquor), a burning lamp, and several little wicks. one of the wicks is lighted, and the flame passed thrice over the collection. nine wicks are lighted, and put on the nine squares. the charm inscribed on the lead plate is at this stage repeated fervently in an undertone no less than twenty-one times. this preamble, or one closely resembling it, is generally the beginning of the mantravadi's programme. the rest of it is guided by the special circumstances of each case. let us suppose that the wizard, having a victim in view, wishes the latter to be afflicted with burning pains and insufferable heat all over his body. the following is the ceremony he would perform. thinking of the victim, he drives a thorn of canthium parviflorum into the effigy, and then, folding up the collection detailed above in the plantain leaf, he proceeds to a tank or pool, and immerses himself up to the neck. he places the bundle on the surface of the water--he tells you it will float despite the lead--and, calling for a cock, cuts off its head, permitting the blood and the head to fall on the bundle. he presses the bundle down into the water, and submerges himself at the same time. coming to the surface, he goes ashore, whistling thrice, and being very careful not to look behind him. within twenty-one days, the charm will take effect. in order to induce a boil or tumour to appear in a victim's foot, the mantravadi inscribes a certain charm on a sheet of lead, and stuffs the plate into a frog's mouth, repeats another charm, and blows into the batrachian's mouth, which is then stitched up, after which the creature is bound with twenty-one coils of string. the frog is next set down on a plantain leaf, the ritual already described with the squares, toddy, etc., is performed, the frog is wrapped up together with the various substances in the leaf, and buried at some spot where two or more roads meet, and which the victim is likely to pass. should he cross the fateful spot, he will suddenly become conscious of a feeling in his foot, as though a thorn had pricked him. from that moment dates the beginning of a week of intense agony. his foot swells, fever sets in, he has pains all over his body, and for seven days existence is intolerable. the cherukaladi is another form of odi mantram, and the manner in which it is performed is extremely interesting. the wizard takes three balls of rice, blackens one, reddens another, and passes through the third a young yetah fish (bagarius yarrellii), after having put down its throat seven green chillies, seven grains of raw rice, and as many of pepper. in the carapace of a crab some toddy, and in the valve of a particular kind of mussel, some arrack is placed. the sorcerer conveys all these things to a hill built by termites (white-ants). the crown of the hill is knocked off, and the substances are thrown in. walking round the mound thrice, the magician recites a charm, and comes away without looking over his shoulder. [ ] within a very short time, similar effects are produced as those resulting from the previously described form of sorcery." a grandha (palm-leaf book), describing how an enemy may be struck down, gives the following details. the head of a fowl with dark-coloured flesh is cut off. the head is then split open, and a piece of cadjan (palm-leaf), on which are written the name of the person to be injured, and the name of the star under which he was born, is stuck in the split head, which is then sewn up and the tongue stitched to the beak. the head is then inserted into a certain fruit, which is tied up with a withe of a creeper, and deposited under the enemy's gateway. in malabar, a wooden figure is sometimes made, and a tuft of a woman's hair tied on its head. it is fixed to a tree, and nails are driven into the neck and breast, to inflict hurt on an enemy. sometimes a live frog or lizard is buried within a cocoanut shell, after nails have been stuck into its eyes and stomach. the deaths of the animal and the person are supposed to take place simultaneously. [ ] when a tamil woman of the parivaram caste who commits adultery outside the caste is punished with excommunication, a mud image representing her is made, two thorns are poked into its eyes, and it is thrown away outside the village. [ ] at bangalore in the mysore province, a monthly festival is held in honour of gurumurthi swami, at which women disturbed by the spirits of drowned persons become possessed. the sufferer is dragged by the hair of the head to a tree, to which a lock of the hair is nailed. she flings herself about in a frenzy, and throws herself on the ground, leaving the lock of hair torn out by the roots fastened to the tree by the nail. eventually the spirit goes up the tree, and the woman recovers. [ ] in the madura district, women possessed by devils may be seen at the great temple at madura every navaratri, waiting for release. "there are many professional exorcists, who are often the pujaris (priests) at the shrine of the local goddess. at dead of night they question the evil spirit, and ask him who he is, why he has come there, and what he wants to induce him to go away. he answers through the mouth of the woman, who works herself up into a frenzy, and throws herself about wildly. if he will not answer, the woman is whipped with the rattan which the exorcist carries, or with a bunch of margosa (melia azadirachta) twigs. when he replies, his requests for offerings of certain kinds are complied with. when he is satisfied, and agrees to leave, a stone is placed on the woman's head, and she is let go, and dashes off into darkness. the place at which the stone drops to the ground is supposed to be the place where the evil spirit is content to remain, and, to keep him there, a lock of the woman's hair is nailed with an iron nail to the nearest tree." [ ] sometimes a sorcerer makes an evil spirit take a vow that it will not trouble any one in the future, and, in return, offers to it the blood of fowls, a goat, etc. he then orders the spirit to climb a tree, and drives three large iron nails into the trunk thereof. as iron is disliked by evil spirits, the result is to confine the spirit in the tree, for it cannot descend beyond the nails. in the telugu country, when a person is supposed to be possessed by a devil, it is often the practice to take him to some special tree, which is believed to be a favourite residence of demons, and drive a nail into the trunk. if the devil has any proper feeling, he thereupon leaves the man or woman, and takes up his abode in the tree. this ceremony is performed with certain religious rites, and involves considerable expenditure. sometimes, devil drivers are called in, who "seat the woman in a fog of resin smoke, and work upon or beat her until she declares the supposed desires of the devil in the way of sacrifice; and, when these have been complied with, one of her hairs is put in a bottle, formally shown to the village goddess, and buried in the jungle, while iron nails are driven into the threshold of the woman's house to prevent the devil's return." [ ] at the first menstrual ceremonies of a pulaya girl in the cochin state, she stands on the morning of the seventh day before some parayas, who play on their flute and drum, to cast out the demons, if any, from her body. if she is possessed by them, she leaps with frantic movements. in this case, the demon is transferred to a tree by driving a nail into the trunk, after offerings have been made. [ ] when an odde (telugu navvy) girl reaches puberty, she is confined in a special hut, in which a piece of iron, and other things, are placed, to keep off evil spirits. in some castes, when a woman is in labour, an iron sickle is kept on the cot for a similar purpose. after delivery, she keeps iron in some form, e.g., a small crowbar, knife, or nails, in the room, and takes it about with her when she goes out. at a nayar funeral in malabar, the chief mourner holds in his hand, or tucks into his waist-cloth, a piece of iron, generally a long key. [ ] at a marriage among the musu kammas in the telugu country, an iron ring is tied to the milk-post. for curing sprains, it is said to be a common practice to keep near the patient a sickle, an iron measure, or any article of iron which is at hand. a ceremony, called dwara pratishta, is performed by lingayats when the door-frame of a new house is set up, and an iron nail is driven into the frame, to prevent devils or evil spirits from entering the house. a former raja of vizianagram would not allow the employment of iron in the construction of buildings in his territory, because it would inevitably be followed by smallpox or other epidemic. [ ] a few years ago, a native servant was charged with beating with a cane a woman who was suffering from malarial fever after her confinement, in order to drive out a devil, which was said to be the spirit of a woman who was drowned some time previously. the woman died three days after the beating, and various abrasions were found on the head and body. the sub-magistrate held that the hurt was part of the ceremony, to which the husband and mother of the woman, and the woman herself, gave their consent. but, as the hurt was needlessly severe, the servant was fined twenty-five rupees, or in default five weeks' rigorous imprisonment. the practice of extracting or knocking out some of the teeth of a magician is widespread throughout southern india. in connection therewith mr r. morris writes to me as follows:-- "a sorcerer's spells depend for their efficacy upon the distinctness with which they are pronounced. the words uttered by a man, some or all of whose front teeth are damaged, are not so clear and distinct as those of a man whose teeth are intact. consequently, if a sorcerer's front teeth are smashed, he is ruined as a sorcerer. and, if the front teeth of his corpse are broken or extracted, his ghost is prevented from bewitching people. it is necessary to mutilate a corpse, in order to prevent the ghost doing what the live man unmutilated could have done. for example, when a man is murdered, he is hamstrung, to prevent the ghost from following in pursuit." in connection with sorcery among the oriyas, mr s. p. rice tells us [ ] that a girl was suffering from mental disease, and believed to be possessed by a devil. she declared that she was bewitched by a certain man, who had to be cured of his power over her. accordingly, the friends and relatives of the girl went to this man's house, dragged him out into the road, laid him on his back, and sat on his chest. they then proceeded to extract two of his front teeth with a hammer and pincers. mr rice adds that it does not appear how the cure was to work--whether the operators thought that words of cursing or magic, coming through the orifice of the teeth, would be mumbled, and thus lose some of their incisive force, and therefore of their power for evil, or whether it was thought that the devil wanted room to fly out. attacks upon supposed sorcerers are said to be not uncommon in the jeypore agency. in one instance, a wizard's front teeth were pulled out by the local blacksmith, to render him unable to pronounce his spells with the distinctness requisite to real efficiency. [ ] in the vizagapatam district, where a village was supposed to contain a witch, a dasari (religious mendicant) was called upon to examine his books, and name the person. he fixed on some wretched woman, whose front teeth were knocked out, and her mouth filled with filth. she was then beaten with a switch made from the castor-oil plant. a few years ago, a woman in the north arcot district was suffering from severe pain in the abdomen, and she and her husband were made to believe that she was possessed by a devil, which a bairagi (religious mendicant) offered to expel. his treatment went on for some days, and the final operations were conducted by the side of a pond. the bairagi repeated mantrams, while the woman was seated opposite him. suddenly she grew violently excited, and possessed by the deity muniswara. she pulled the bairagi backwards by his hair, and cried out, "break his teeth." she then opened his mouth by pulling up the upper lip, and her husband took a small stone, and broke some of the incisor teeth. the woman continued to cry out, "he is chanting mantrams; pour water into his mouth, and stop his breathing." a third party brought water, and the woman's husband poured it into the bairagi's mouth. a struggle ensued, and the woman called out, "i am losing my life; he is chanting; the mantram is in his throat; he is binding me by his spell; put a stick into his throat." the third party then brought the bairagi's curved stick (yogathandam), which the husband thrust into the bairagi's mouth, with the result that he died. the woman was sent to a lunatic asylum, and her husband, as there was no previous intention to cause death, and he was evidently under the influence of blind superstition, received only four and a half months' imprisonment. in a further case which occurred in the north arcot district, a man was believed to have great power over animals, of which he openly boasted, threatening to destroy all the cattle of one of his neighbours. this man and his friends believed that they could deprive the sorcerer of his power for evil by drawing all his teeth, which they proceeded to do with fatal results. in the kistna district, a mala weaver was suspected of practising sorcery by destroying men with devils, and bringing cholera and other diseases. he was met by certain villagers, and asked for tobacco. while he stopped to get the tobacco out, he was seized and thrown on the ground. his hands were tied behind his back, and his legs bound fast with his waist-cloth. one man sat on his legs, another on his waist, and a third held his head down by the kudumi (hair-knot). his mouth was forced open with a pair of large pincers, and a piece of stick was thrust between the teeth to prevent the mouth closing. one of the assistants got a stone as big as a man's fist, and with it struck the sorcerer's upper and lower teeth several times until they were loosened. then nine teeth were pulled out with the pincers. a quantity of milk-hedge (euphorbia) juice was poured on the bleeding gums, and the unfortunate man was left lying on his back, to free himself from his bonds as best he could. [ ] in the tamil country, the vekkil tottiyans are supposed to be able to control certain evil spirits, and cause them to possess a man. it is believed, however, that they are deprived of their power as soon as they lose one of their teeth. the kondhs of ganjam believe that they can transform themselves into tigers or snakes, half the soul leaving the body and becoming changed into one of these animals, either to kill an enemy, or to satisfy hunger by having a good feed on cattle. during this period they are said to feel dull and listless, and, if a tiger is killed in the forest, they will die at the same time. mr fawcett informs me that the kondhs believe that the soul wanders during sleep. on one occasion, a dispute arose owing to a man discovering that another kondh, whose spirit used to wander about in the guise of a tiger, ate up his soul, and he fell ill. like the kondhs, some paniyans of malabar are believed to be gifted with the power of changing themselves into animals. there is a belief that, if they wish to secure a woman whom they lust after, one of the men gifted with the special power goes to the house at night with a hollow bamboo, and goes round it three times. the woman then comes out, and the man, changing himself into a bull or dog, works his wicked will. the woman is said to die in the course of a few days. for assuming the disguise of an animal, the following formulæ are said [ ] to be effective:-- . take the head of a dog and burn it, and plant on it a vellakuthi plant. burn camphor and frankincense, and adore it. then pluck the root, mix it with the milk of a dog, and the bones of a cat. a mark made with the mixture on the forehead will enable a person to assume the form of any animal he thinks of. . worship with a lighted wick and incense before a stick of the malankara plant. then chant the sakti mantram one hundred and one times. watch carefully which way the stick inclines. proceed to the south of the stick, and pluck the whiskers of a live tiger. make with them a ball of the veerali silk, string it with silk, and enclose it within the ear. stand on the palms of the hand to attain the disguise of a tiger, and, with the stick in hand, think of a cat, white bull, or any other animal. then you will appear as such in the eyes of others. the name chedipe (prostitute) is applied to sorceresses in the godavari district. the chedipe is believed to ride on a tiger at night over the boundaries of seven villages, and return home at early morn. when she does not like a man, she goes to him bare-bodied at dead of night, the closed doors of the house in which he is sleeping opening before her. she sucks his blood by putting his toe in her mouth. he will then lie like a corpse. next morning he feels uneasy and intoxicated, as if he had taken ganja, and remains in this condition all day. if he does not take medicine from some one skilled in the treatment of such cases, it is said that he will die. if he is properly treated, he will recover in about ten days. if he makes no effort to get cured, the chedipe will molest him again, and, becoming gradually emaciated, he will die. when a chedipe enters a house, all those who are awake will become insensible, those who are seated falling down as if they had taken a soporific drug. sometimes she drags out the tongue of the intended victim, who will die at once. at other times, slight abrasions will be found on the skin of the victim, and, when the chedipe puts pieces of stick thereon, they burn as if burnt by fire. sometimes she will find him behind a bush, and, undressing there, will fall on any passer-by in the jungle, assuming the form of a tiger with one of the legs in human form. when thus disguised, she is called marulupuli (enchanting tiger). if the man is a brave fellow, and tries to kill the chedipe with any instrument he may have with him, she will run away; and, if any man belonging to her village detects her mischief, she will assume her real form, and say blandly that she is only digging roots. the above story was obtained by a native official when he visited a koyi village, where he was told that a man had been sentenced to several years' imprisonment for being one of a gang who had murdered a chedipe for being a sorceress. in the vizagapatam district, the people believe that a witch, when she wishes to revenge herself on any man, climbs at night to the top of his house, and, making a hole through the roof, drops a thread down till the end of it touches the body of the sleeping man. then she sucks at the other end, and draws up all the blood out of his body. witches are said to be able to remove all the bones out of a man's body, or to deposit a fish, ball of hair, or rags in his stomach. the town of jeypore was once said to be haunted by a ghost. it was described as a woman, who paraded the town at midnight in a state of nudity, and from her mouth proceeded flames of fire. she sucked the blood of any loose cattle she found about, and, in the same way, revenged herself on any man who had insulted her. [ ] i am informed by mr g. f. paddison that, in cases of sickness among the savaras of vizagapatam, a buffalo is tied up near the door of the house. herbs and rice in small platters, and a little brass vessel containing toddy, balls of rice, flowers, and medicine, are brought with a bow and arrow. the arrow is thicker at the basal end than towards the tip. the narrow part goes, when shot, through a hole in front of the bow, which is too small to allow of the passage of the rest of the arrow. a beju (wise woman) pours some toddy over the herbs and rice, and daubs the patient over the forehead, breasts, stomach, and back. she croons out a long incantation to the goddess, stopping at intervals to call out "daru," to attract the attention of the goddess. she then takes the bow and arrow, and shoots twice into the air, and, standing behind the kneeling patient, shoots balls of medicine stuck on the tip of the arrow at her. the construction of the arrow is such that the balls are dislodged from its tip. the patient is thus shot at all over the body, which is bruised by the impact of the medicine balls. afterwards the beju shoots one or two balls at the buffalo, which is taken to a path forming the village boundary, and killed with a tangi (axe). the patient is then daubed with the blood of the buffalo, rice, and toddy, and a feast concludes the ceremonial. mr paddison once gave some medicine to the porojas of vizagapatam during an epidemic of cholera in a village. they took it eagerly, but, as he was going away, asked whether it would not be a quicker cure to put the witch in the next village, who had brought on the cholera, into jail. in the koraput taluk of vizagapatam, a wizard once had a reputation for possessing the power of transplanting trees, and it was believed that, if a man displeased him, his trees were moved in the night, and planted in some one else's grounds. it is recorded [ ] by the rev. j. cain that the koyis of the godavari district "assert that the death of every one is caused by the machinations of a sorcerer, instigated thereto by an enemy of the deceased, or of the deceased's friends. so, in former years, inquiry was always made as to the person likely to have been at such enmity with the deceased as to wish for his death; and, having settled upon a suspicious individual, the friends of the deceased used to carry the corpse to the accused, and call upon him to clear himself by undergoing the ordeal of dipping his hands in boiling oil or water. [ ] within the last two years, i have known of people running away from their village because of their having been accused of having procured by means of a wizard the death of some one with whom they were at enmity about a plot of land." according to another account, [ ] "some male member of the family of the deceased throws coloured rice over the corpse as it lies on the bed, pronouncing as he does so the names of all the known sorcerers who live in the neighbourhood. it is even now solemnly asserted that, when the name of the wizard responsible for the death is pronounced, the bed gets up, and moves towards the house or village where he resides." the rev. j. cain [ ] once saw a magician at work in the godavari district, "discovering the cause of the sickness which had laid prostrate a strong koyi man. he had in his hand a leaf from an old palmyra leaf book, and, as he walked round and round the patient, he pretended to be reading. then he took up a small stick, and drew a number of lines on the ground, after which he danced and sang round and round the sick man, who sat looking at him, evidently much impressed with his performance. suddenly he made a dart at the man, and, stooping down, bit him severely in two or three places in the back. then, rushing to the front, he produced a few grains, which he said he had found in the man's back, and which were evidently the cause of the sickness." in another case, a young koyi was employed to teach a few children in his village, but ere long he was attacked by a strange disease, which no medicine could cure. as a last resource, a magician was called in, who declared the illness to have been brought on by a demoness at the instigation of some enemy, who was envious of the money which the lad had received for teaching. the magician produced a little silver, which he declared to be a sure sign that the sickness was connected with the silver money he was receiving for teaching. a riot took place, in , at the village of korravanivasala in the vizagapatam district, under the following strange circumstances. a konda dora (hill cultivator caste) named korra mallayya pretended that he was inspired, and gradually gathered round him a camp of four or five thousand people from various places. at first his proceedings were harmless enough, but at last he gave out that he was a reincarnation of one of the five pandava brothers, the heroes of the mahabharata, who are worshipped by the konda doras. [ ] he further announced that his infant son was the god krishna; that he would drive out the english, and rule the country himself; and that, to effect this, he would arm his followers with bamboos, which would be turned by magic into guns, and would change the weapons of the authorities into water. bamboos were cut, and rudely fashioned to resemble guns, and, armed with these, the camp was drilled by the swami (god), as mallayya had come to be called. the assembly next sent word that they were going to loot pachipenta, and, when two constables came to see how matters stood, the fanatics fell upon them, and beat them to death. the local police endeavoured to recover the bodies, but, owing to the threatening attitude of the swami's followers, had to abandon the attempt. the district magistrate then went to the place in person, collected reserve police from various places, and rushed the camp to arrest the swami and the other leaders of the movement. the police were resisted by the mob, and obliged to fire. eleven of the rioters were killed, others wounded or arrested, and the rest dispersed. sixty of them were tried for rioting, and three, including the swami, for murdering the constables. of the latter, the swami died in jail, and the other two were hanged. the swami's son, the god krishna, also died, and all trouble ended. a kapu (telugu cultivator) in the cuddapah district once pretended to have received certain maxims direct from the supreme being, and forewarned his neighbours that he would fall into a trance, which actually occurred, and lasted for three days. on his recovery, he stated that his spirit had been during this time in heaven, learning the principles of the advaita religion from a company of angels. one of his peculiarities was that he went about naked, because, when once engaged in separating two bullocks which were fighting, his cloth tumbled down, after which he never put it on again. this eccentric person is said to have pulled a handful of maggots from the body of a dead dog, to have put them into his mouth, and to have spat them out again as grains of rice. a shrine was built over his grave. [ ] a few years ago, a muhammadan fakir undertook to drive away the plague in bellary. incantations were performed over a black goat, which was sacrificed at a spot where several roads met. a considerable sum of money was collected, and the poor were fed. but the plague was not stayed. on one occasion, an old woman hearing that her only son was dangerously ill, sought the aid of a magician, who proceeded to utter mantrams, to counteract the evil influences which were at work. while this was being done, an accomplice of the magician turned up, and, declaring that he was a policeman, threatened to charge the two with sorcery if they did not pay him a certain sum of money. the woman paid up, but discovered later on that she had been hoaxed. two men were, some years ago, sentenced to rigorous imprisonment under the following circumstances. a lady, who was suffering from illness, asked a man who claimed to be a magician to cure her. he came with his confederate, and told the patient to place nine sovereigns on a clay image. this sum not being forthcoming, a few rupees and a piece of a gold necklace were accepted. these were deposited on the image, and it was placed in a tin box, which was locked up, one of the men retaining the key. on the following day the two men returned, and the rupees and piece of gold were placed on a fresh image. becoming inspired by the god, one of the men announced that the patient must give a gold bangle off her wrist, if she wished to be cured quickly. the bangle was given up, and placed on the image, which was then converted into a ball containing the various articles within it. the patient was then directed to look at various corners of the room, and repeat a formula. the image was placed in a box, and locked up as before, and the men retired, promising to return next day. this they failed to do, and the lady, becoming suspicious, broke open the box, in which the image was found, but the money and ornaments were missing. a case relating to the supposed guarding of treasure by an evil spirit came before the court in the coimbatore district in . two valluvans (tamil astrologers) were staying in a village, where they were foretelling events. they went to the house of an old woman, and, while telling her fortune, announced that there was a devil in the house guarding treasure, and promised to drive it out, if twenty rupees were given to them. the woman borrowed the money, and presented it to them. in the evening the valluvans went into the kitchen, and shut the door. certain ceremonies are said to have been performed, at the conclusion of which the woman and her son entered the room, and, in the light of a flickering torch, were shown a pit, in which there was a copper pot, apparently full of gold sovereigns. one of the astrologers feigned a sudden attack from the devil, and fell down as if unconscious. the other pushed the people of the house outside the door, and again shut it. eventually the men came out, and announced that the devil was a ferocious one, and would not depart till a wick from an erode paradesi was lighted before it, for obtaining which a hundred rupees were required. if the devil was not thus propitiated, it would, they said, kill the people of the house sooner or later. the old woman borrowed the sum required, and her son and the two astrologers went to karur to take the train to erode, to meet the paradesi. at karur the two men took tickets for different places, and the son, becoming suspicious, informed the police, who arrested them. on them were found some circular pieces of card covered with gold tinsel. a few years ago, a zamindar (landowner) in the godavari district engaged a muhammadan to exorcise a devil which haunted his house. the latter, explaining that the devil was a female and fond of jewelry, induced the zamindar to leave a large quantity of jewels in a locked receptacle in a certain room, to which only the exorcist, and of course the devil, had access. the latter, it was supposed, would be gratified by the loan of the jewels, and would cease from troubling. the exorcist managed to open the receptacle and steal the jewels, and, such was the faith of his employer, that the offence was not suspected until a police inspector seized rs. , worth of jewels in vizagapatam on suspicion, and they were with difficulty traced to their source. in a note on wonder-working in india, the rev. j. sharrock narrates the following incident. "a sanyasi (ascetic) was ordered with contempt from the house of a rich zemindar. thereupon, the former threatened to curse his house by despatching a devil to take possession of it that very night. on one of the doors of the inner courtyard he made a number of magical passes, and then left the house in high dudgeon. as soon as it grew dark, the devil appeared on the door in flickering flames of phosphorus, and almost frightened the zemindar and the other inmates out of their five senses. wild with terror, they fled to the sanyasi, and begged and entreated him to come and exorcise the devil. of course he refused, and of course they pressed him with greater and greater presents till he was satisfied. then he came with kungkuma (a mixture of turmeric, alum, and lime-juice), and rubbed the fiery demon off with the usual recitation of mantras. during the rest of his stay, the sanyasi was treated with the most profound respect, while his sishyas (disciples) received the choicest food and fruits that could be obtained." the following cases are called from the annual reports of the chemical examiner to the government of madras, in further illustration of the practices of pseudo-magicians. (a) a wizard came to a village, in order to exorcise a devil which possessed a certain woman. he was treated like a prince, and was given the only room in the house, while the family turned out into the hall. he lived there for several days, and then commenced his ceremonies. he drew the figure of a lotus on the floor, made the woman sit down, and commenced to twist her hair with his wand. when she cried out, he sent her out of the room, saying she was unworthy to sit on the lotus figure, but promising nevertheless to exorcise the devil without her being present. he found a half-witted man in the village, drugged him with ganja, brought him to the house, and performed his ceremonies on this man, who, on becoming intoxicated with the drug, began to get boisterous. the wizard tied him up with a rope, because he had become possessed of the devil that had possessed the woman. the man was subsequently traced by his relatives, found in an unconscious state, and taken to hospital. the wizard got rigorous imprisonment. (b) some jewels were lost, and a mantrakara (dealer in magical spells) was called in to detect the thief. the magician erected a screen, behind which he lit a lamp, and did other things to impress the crowd with the importance of his mantrams. to the assembly he distributed betel-leaf patties containing a white powder, said to be holy ashes, and the effect of it on the suspected individuals, who formed part of the crowd, is said to have been instantaneous. so magical was the effect of this powder in detecting the thief, that the unfortunate man ultimately vomited blood. when the people remonstrated with the magician for the severity of his magic, he administered to the sufferer an antidote of solution of cow-dung and the juice of some leaf. the holy ashes were found to contain corrosive sublimate, and the magician got eighteen months' rigorous imprisonment. i may conclude with a reference to an interesting note on the jesuits of the madura mission in the middle of the seventeenth century by the rev. j. s. chandler, who writes as follows:-- "dr nobili lodged in an incommodious hut, and celebrated mass in another hut. the older he got, the more he added to the austerity of his life. the pandarams [ ] (non-brahman priests) made a new attempt against his life. one fine day they held a council as to the death he should die, and decided on magic. they summoned the most famous magician of the kingdom. every one knew of it. when the day came, the magician presented himself, followed by a crowd, all alert to witness the vengeance of their gods. he insolently arranged his machines, and then described circles in the air. dr nobili regarded him with a composed air. soon the ceremonies became more noisy. the features of the magician became decomposed, his eyes inflamed, his face contracted like that of one possessed; he ground his teeth, howled, and struck the ground with his feet, hands, and forehead. dr nobili asked what comedy he was pretending to play. then he recited magical sentences. dr nobili begged him to spare his throat. the magician said 'you have laughed, now die,' and threw a black powder into the air, at the same time looking at his victim, to see him fall at his feet, and then ... skedaddled from the jeers of the crowd. dr nobili addressed the crowd, and from that time they regarded him as more than human." mr chandler narrates further that [ ] "a jogi (sorcerer and exorcist) lost in public opinion by pretending to perform a miracle in imitation of a previous jogi, by making a stone bull eat. a quantity of rice and other grains was served to the figure, but the vahanam (vehicle) of rudra was not hungry. the jogi made many grimaces, threatened, and even employed a rattan cane, but the bull remained motionless. not so the spectators, who overwhelmed the jogi with blows, and he was only saved by his friends, conducted to the frontier by soldiers, and forbidden ever again to enter the kingdom." x divination and fortune-telling it has been said [ ] that "men not only attempt to act directly upon nature, but they usually exhibit a keen desire to be guided as to the best course to take when in doubt, difficulty, or danger, and to be forewarned of the future. the practice of divination is by no means confined to professional magicians, or even to soothsayers, but any one may employ the accessory means." of professional diviners in southern india, perhaps the best example is afforded by the kaniyans [ ] or kanisans of malabar, whose caste name is said to be a malayalam corruption of the sanskrit ganika, meaning astrologer. duarte barbosa, [ ] at the beginning of the sixteenth century, has a detailed reference to the kaniyans, of whom he writes that "they learn letters and astronomy, and some of them are great astrologers, and foretell many future things, and form judgements upon the births of men. kings and great persons send to call them, and come out of their palaces to gardens and pleasure-houses to see them, and ask them what they desire to know; and these people form judgement upon these things in a few days, and return to those that asked them, but they may not enter the palaces; nor may they approach the king's person on account of being low people. and the king is then alone with him. they are great diviners, and pay great attention to times and places of good and bad luck, which they cause to be observed by those kings and great men, and by the merchants also; and they take care to do their business at the time which these astrologers advise them, and they do the same in their voyages and marriages. and by these means these men gain a great deal." buchanan, [ ] three centuries later, notes that the kaniyans "possess almanacks, by which they inform people as to the proper time for performing ceremonies or sowing their seeds, and the hours which are fortunate or unfortunate for any undertaking. when persons are sick or in trouble, the cunishun, by performing certain ceremonies in a magical square of places, discovers what spirit is the cause of the evil, and also how it may be appeased." the kaniyans are practically the guiding spirits in all the social and domestic concerns in malabar, and even christians and muhammadans resort to them for advice. from the moment of the birth of an infant, which is noted by the kaniyan for the purpose of casting its horoscope, to the moment of death, the services of the village astrologer are constantly in requisition. he is consulted as to the cause of all calamities, and the cautious answers that he gives satisfy the people. "putro na putri," which may either mean no son but a daughter, or no daughter but a son, is referred to as the type of a kaniyan's answer, when questioned about the sex of an unborn child. "it would be difficult," mr logan writes, [ ] "to describe a single important occasion in everyday life when the kanisan is not at hand, foretelling lucky days and hours, casting horoscopes, explaining the cause of calamities, prescribing remedies for untoward events, and physicians (not physic) for sick persons. seed cannot be sown, or trees planted, unless the kanisan has been consulted beforehand. he is even asked to consult his shastras to find lucky days and moments for setting out on a journey, commencing an enterprise, giving a loan, executing a deed, or shaving the head. for such important occasions as births, marriages, tonsure, investiture with the sacred thread, and beginning the a, b, c, the kanisan is, of course, indispensable. his work, in short, mixes him up with the gravest as well as the most trivial of the domestic events of the people, and his influence and position are correspondingly great. the astrologer's finding, as one will assert with all due reverence, is the oracle of god himself, with the justice of which every one ought to be satisfied, and the poorer classes follow his dictates unhesitatingly. the astrologer's most busy time is from january to july, the period of harvest and marriages, but in the other six months of the year he is far from leading an idle life. his most lucrative business lies in casting horoscopes, recording the events of a man's life from birth to death, pointing out dangerous periods of life, and prescribing rules and ceremonies to be observed by individuals for the purpose of propitiating the gods and planets, and so averting the calamities of dangerous times. he also shows favourable junctures for the commencement of undertakings, and the grantham or book, written on palm leaf, sets forth in considerable detail the person's disposition and mental qualities, as affected by the position of the planets in the zodiac at the moment of birth. all this is a work of labour, and of time. there are few members of respectable families who are not thus provided, and nobody grudges the five to twenty-five rupees usually paid for a horoscope, according to the position and reputation of the astrologer. two things are essential to the astrologer, namely, a bag of cowry shells (cypræa moneta), and an almanac. when any one comes to consult him, [ ] he quietly sits down, facing the sun, on a plank seat or mat, murmuring some mantrams or sacred verses, opens his bag of cowries, and pours them on the floor. with his right hand he moves them slowly round and round, solemnly reciting meanwhile a stanza or two in praise of his guru or teacher, and of his deity, invoking their help. he then stops, and explains what he has been doing, at the same time taking a handful of cowries from the heap, and placing them on one side. in front is a diagram drawn with chalk (or soapstone) on the floor, and consisting of twelve compartments (rasis), one for each month in the year. before commencing operations with the diagram, he selects three or five of the cowries highest up in the heap, and places them in a line on the right-hand side. [in an account before me, three cowries and two glass bottle-stoppers are mentioned as being placed on this side]. these represent ganapati (the belly god, the remover of difficulties), the sun, the planet jupiter, sarasvati (the goddess of speech), and his own guru or preceptor. to all of these the astrologer gives due obeisance, touching his ears and the ground three times with both hands. the cowries are next arranged in the compartments of the diagram, and are moved about from compartment to compartment by the astrologer, who quotes meanwhile the authority on which he makes the moves. finally he explains the result, and ends with again worshipping the deified cowries, who were witnessing the operation as spectators." according to another account, [ ] the kaniyan "pours his cowries on the ground, and, after rolling them in the palm of his right hand, while repeating mantrams, he selects the largest, and places them in a row outside the diagram at its right-hand top corner. they represent the first seven planets, and he does obeisance to them, touching his forehead and the ground three times with both hands. the relative position of the nine planets is then worked out, and illustrated with cowries in the diagram." the mulla kurumbas (jungle tribe) of malabar are said [ ] to "have a gift of prophecy, some being initiated in the art known as kotiveykal, literally planting betel vine. the professor, when consulted about any future event, husks a small quantity of rice by hand, places it inside a scooped shell of a dried kuvvalam fruit (Ægle marmelos), and asks one of his men to plant the betel vine. the man understands the meaning, takes out the rice, and spreads it on a plank. the professor invokes the puthadi deity, makes a calculation, and gives his reply, which is generally found correct." concerning a class of people called velichchapad, who are regarded as oracles in malabar, mr f. fawcett writes as follows [ ]:-- "far away in rural malabar, i witnessed the ceremony in which the velichchapad exhibited his quality. it was in the neighbourhood of a nayar house, to which thronged all the neighbours (nayar), men and women, boys and girls. the ceremony lasts about an hour. the nayar said it was the custom in his family to have it done once a year, but could give no account of how it originated; most probably in a vow, some ancestor having vowed that, if such or such benefit be received, he would for ever after have an annual performance of this ceremony in his house. it involved some expenditure, as the velichchapad had to be paid, and the neighbours had to be fed. somewhere about the middle of the little courtyard, the velichchapad placed a lamp (of the malabar pattern) having a lighted wick, a kalasam (brass vessel), some flowers, camphor, saffron (turmeric), and other paraphernalia. bhagavati was the deity invoked, and the business involved offering flowers, and waving a lighted wick round the kalasam. the velichchapad's movements became quicker, and, suddenly seizing his sword, he ran round the courtyard (against the sun, as sailors say), shouting wildly. he is under the influence of the deity who has been introduced into him, and gives oracular utterances to the deity's commands. what he said i know not, and no one else seemed to know, or care in the least, much interested though they were in the performance. as he ran, every now and then he cut his forehead with the sword, pressing it against the skin and sawing vertically up and down. the blood streamed all over his face. presently he became wilder, and whizzed round the lamp, bending forward towards the kalasam. evidently some deity, some spirit was present here, and spoke through the mouth of the velichchapad. this, i think, undoubtedly represents the belief of all who were present. when he had done whizzing round the kalasam, he soon became a normal being, and stood before my camera. the fee for the self-inflicted laceration is one rupee, some rice, etc. i saw the velichchapad about three days afterwards, going to perform elsewhere. the wound on his forehead had healed. the careful observer can always identify a velichchapad by the triangular patch over the forehead, where the hair will not grow, and where the skin is somewhat indurated." the kotas of the nilgiris worship magali, to whose influence outbreaks of cholera are attributed. when the dread disease breaks out among them, special sacrifices are performed with a view to propitiating the goddess, who is represented by an upright stone in a rude temple near kotagiri. an annual ceremony takes place there, at which some man becomes possessed, and announces to the people that magali has come. at the seed-sowing ceremony, a kota priest sometimes becomes inspired, and gives expression to oracular utterances. at a toda funeral, the men, congregating on the summit of a neighbouring hill, invoked the gods. four of them, seized, apparently in imitation of the kota devadi (priest), with divine frenzy, began to shiver and gesticulate wildly while running to and fro with closed eyes. they then began to talk in malayalam, and offer an explanation of an extraordinary phenomenon, which had appeared in the form of a gigantic figure, which disappeared as suddenly as it appeared. the possession by some todas of a smattering of malayalam is explained by the fact that, when grazing their buffaloes on the western slopes of the nilgiris, they come in contact with malayalam-speaking people from the neighbouring malabar country. for the following note on the sakuna pakshi (prophetic bird) mendicant caste, i am indebted to mr c. hayavadana rao. the name of the caste is due to the fact that the members thereof wear on their heads a plume composed of the feathers of the indian roller (coracias indica) or blue jay of europeans. this is one of the birds called sakuna pakshi, because they are supposed to possess the power of foretelling events, and on their movements many omens depend. concerning the roller, jerdon writes [ ] that "it is sacred to siva, who assumed its form, and, at the feast of the dasserah at nagpore, one or more used to be liberated by the rajah, amidst the firing of cannon and musketry, at a grand parade attended by all the officers of the station. buchanan hamilton also states that, before the durga puja, the hindus of calcutta purchase one of these birds, and, at the time when they throw the image of durga into the river, set it at liberty. it is considered propitious to see it on this day, and those who cannot afford to buy one discharge their matchlocks to put it on the wing." a sakuna pakshi, before starting on a begging expedition, rises early, and has a cold meal. he then puts on the vaishnava namam mark on his forehead, slings on his left shoulder a deer-skin pouch for the reception of the rice and other grain which will be given to him as alms, and takes up his little drum (gilaka or damaraka) made of frog's skin. closely allied to the sakuna pakshis are the budubudikes or budubudukalas, a class of beggars and fortune-tellers, whose name is derived from the drum (budbuki) which they use when engaged in predicting future events. "a huge parti-coloured turban, surmounted by a bunch of feathers, a pair of ragged trousers, a loose long coat, which is very often out at elbows, and a capacious wallet, ordinarily constitute the budubudukala's dress. occasionally, if he can afford it, he indulges in the luxury of a tiger or cheetah (leopard) skin, which hangs down his back, and contributes to the dignity of his calling. add to this an odd assortment of clothes suspended on his left arm, and the picture is as grotesque as it can be. he is regarded as able to predict the future of human beings by the flight and notes of birds. his predictions are couched in the chant which he recites. the burden of the chant is always stereotyped, and purports to have been gleaned from the warble of the feathered songsters of the forest. it prognosticates peace, plenty and prosperity to the house, the birth of a son to the fair, lotus-eyed housewife, and worldly advancement to the master, whose virtues are as countless as the stars, and have the power to annihilate his enemies. it also holds out a tempting prospect of coming joy in an unknown shape from an unknown quarter, and concludes with an appeal for a cloth. if the appeal is successful, well and good. if not, the budubudukala has the patience and perseverance to repeat his visit the next day, and so on until, in sheer disgust, the householder parts with a cloth. the drum, which has been referred to as giving the budubudukala his name, is not devoid of interest. in appearance it is an instrument of diminutive size, and is shaped like an hour-glass, to the middle of which is attached a string with a knot at the end, which serves as the percutient. its origin is enveloped in a myth of which the budubudukala is very proud, for it tells of his divine descent, and invests his vocation with the halo of sanctity. according to the legend, the primitive budubudukala who first adorned the face of the earth was a belated product of the world's creation. when he was born or rather evolved, the rest of mankind was already in the field, struggling for existence. practically the whole scheme was complete, and, in the economy of the universe, the budubudukala found himself one too many. in this quandary, he appealed to his goddess mother amba bhavani, who took pity on him, and presented him with her husband the god parameswara's drum with the blessing 'my son, there is nothing else for you but this. take it and beg, and you will prosper.' among beggars, the budubudukala has constituted himself a superior mendicant, to whom the handful of rice usually doled out is not acceptable. his demand is for clothes of any description, good, bad or indifferent, new or old, torn or whole. for, in the plenitude of his wisdom, he has realised that a cloth is a marketable commodity, which, when exchanged for money, fetches more than the handful of rice. the budubudukala is continually on the tramp, and regulates his movements according to the seasons of the year. as a rule, he pays his visit to the rural parts after the harvest is gathered, for it is then that the villagers are at their best, and in a position to handsomely remunerate him for his pains. but, in whatever corner of the province he may be, as the dusserah [ ] approaches, he turns his face towards vellore in north arcot, where the annual festival in honour of amba bhavani is celebrated." [ ] the principal tribal deity of the kuruvikkaran beggars is kali or durga, and each sept possesses a small metal plate with a figure of the goddess engraved on it, which is usually kept in the custody of the headman. it is, however, sometimes pledged, and money-lenders give considerable sums on the security of the idol, as the kuruvikkarans would on no account fail to redeem it. at the annual festival of the goddess, while some cakes are being cooked in oil, a member of the tribe prays that the goddess will descend on him. taking some of the cakes out of the boiling oil, he rubs the oil on his head with his palm. he is then questioned by those assembled, to whom he gives oracular replies, after sucking the blood from the cut throat of a goat. the nomad koravas or yerukalas earn a livelihood partly by telling fortunes. the telugu name yerukala is said to mean fortune-teller, and, as the women go on their rounds through the streets, they call out "yeruko, amma, yeruku" i.e., prophecies, mother, prophecies. concerning the pachaikutti (tattooer) or gadde (soothsayer) section of these people, mr paupa rao naidu writes [ ] that "the woman proceeds with a basket and a winnowing tray to a village, proclaiming their ostensible profession of tattooing and soothsaying, which they do for grain or money. when unfortunate village women, who always lose their children or often fall ill, see these gadde women moving about, they call them into their houses, make them sit, and, pouring some grain into their baskets, ask them about their past misery and future lot. these women, who are sufficiently trained to speak in suitable language, are clever enough to give out some yarns in equivocal terms, so that the anxious women, who hope for better futurity, understand them in the light uppermost in their own minds. the korava women will be duly rewarded, and doubly too, for they never fail to study the nature of the house, to see if it offers a fair field for booty for their men." [ ] it is said that korava women invoke the village goddesses when they are telling fortunes. they use a winnowing fan and grains of rice in doing this, and prophecy good or evil according to the number of grains on the fan. [ ] they carry a basket, winnow, stick, and a wicker tray in which cowry shells are embedded in a mixture of cow-dung and turmeric. the basket represents the goddess kolapuriamma, and the cowries poleramma. when telling fortunes, the woman places on the basket the winnow, rice, betel leaves and areca nuts, and the wicker tray. holding her client's hand over the winnow, and moving it about, she commences to chant, and name all sorts of deities. from time to time, she touches the hand of the person whose fortune is being told with the stick. the korava women are very clever at extracting information concerning the affairs of a client, before they proceed to tell her fortune. in a note on the initiation of yerukala girls into the profession of fortune-telling in vizagapatam, mr hayavadana rao writes that it is carried out on a sunday succeeding the first puberty ceremony. a caste feast, with plenty of strong drink, is held, but the girl herself fasts. the feast over, she is taken to a spot at a little distance from the settlement, called yerukonda. this is said to be the name of a place on the trunk road between vizianagram and chicacole, to which girls were taken in former days to be initiated. the girl is blindfolded with a cloth. boiled rice and green gram (grain) are mixed with the blood of a black fowl, black pig, and black goat, which are killed. of this mixture she must take at least three morsels, and, if she does not vomit, it is taken as a sign that she will become a good fortune-teller. vomiting would indicate that she would be a false prophetess. the irulas of the tamil country, like the yerukalas, are professional fortune-tellers. the yerukala will carry out the work connected with her profession anywhere, at any time, and any number of times in a day. the irula, on the contrary, remains at his home, and will only tell fortunes close to his hut, or near the hut where his gods are kept. in case of sickness, people of all classes come to consult the irula fortune-teller, whose occupation is known as kannimar varnithal. taking up his drum, he warms it over the fire, or exposes it to the heat of the sun. when it is sufficiently dry to vibrate to his satisfaction, kannimar is worshipped by breaking a cocoanut, and burning camphor and incense. closing his eyes, the irula beats the drum, and shakes his head about, while his wife, who stands near him, sprinkles turmeric water over him. after a few minutes, bells are tied to his right wrist. in about a quarter of an hour he begins to shiver, and breaks out in a profuse perspiration. this is a sure sign that he is inspired by the goddess. the shaking of his body becomes more violent, he breathes rapidly, and hisses like a snake. gradually he becomes calmer, and addresses those around him as if he were the goddess, saying: "oh! children, i have come down on my car, which is decorated with mango flowers, margosa, and jasmine. you need fear nothing so long as i exist, and you worship me. this country will be prosperous, and the people will continue to be happy. ere long my precious car, immersed in the tank (pond) on the hill, will be taken out, and after that the country will become more prosperous," and so on. questions are generally put to the inspired man, not directly, but through his wife. occasionally, even when no client has come to consult him, the irula will take up his drum towards dusk, and chant the praises of kannimar, sometimes for hours at a stretch, with a crowd of irulas collected round him. i gather, from a note by mr. t. ranga rao, that the jungle yanadis of the telugu country pose as prophets of human destinies, and pretend to hold intercourse with gods and goddesses, and to intercede between god and man. every village or circle has one or more soothsayers, who learn their art from experts under a rigid routine. the period of pupilage is a fortnight spent in retreat, on a dietary of milk and fruits. the god or goddess venkateswaralu, subbaroyadu, malakondroyadu, ankamma, or poleramma, appears like a shadow, and inspires the pupil, who, directly the period of probation has ceased, burns camphor and frankincense. he then sings in praise of the deity, takes a sea-bath with his master, gives a sumptuous feast, and becomes an independent soothsayer. the story runs that the ardent soothsayers of old wrought miracles by stirring boiling rice with his hand, which was proof against burn or hurt. his modern brother invokes the gods with burning charcoal in his folded hands, to the beat of a drum. people flock in large numbers to learn the truth. the soothsayer arranges the tribal deity chenchu devudu, and various local gods, in a god-house, which is always kept scrupulously clean, and where worship is regularly carried on. the auspicious days for soothsaying are friday, saturday, and sunday. the chief soothsayer is a male. the applicant presents him with areca nuts, fruit, flowers, and money. the soothsayer bathes, and sits in front of his house smeared with black, white, red, and other colours. his wife, or some other female, kindles a fire, and throws frankincense into it. he beats his drum and sings, while a woman within repeats the chant in a shrill voice. the songs are in praise of the deity, at whose and the soothsayer's feet the applicant prostrates himself, and invokes their aid. the soothsayer feels inspired, and addresses the suppliant thus:--"you have neglected me. you do not worship me. propitiate me adequately, or ruin is yours." the future is predicted in song, and the rural folk place great faith in the predictions. as an example of devil worship and divination, the practice thereof by the tamil valaiyans and kallans of orattanadu in the tanjore district is described as follows by mr f. r. hemingway. [ ] "valaiyan houses generally have an odiyan (odina wodier) tree in the backyard, wherein the devils are believed to live, and, among the kallans, every street has a tree for their accommodation. they are propitiated at least once a year, the more virulent under the tree itself, and the rest in the house, generally on a friday or monday. kallans attach importance to friday in adi (july and august), the cattle pongal day in tai (january and february), and kartigai day in the month kartigai (november and december). a man, with his mouth covered with a cloth to indicate silence and purity, cooks rice in the backyard, and pours it out in front of the tree, mixed with milk and jaggery (crude sugar). cocoanuts and toddy are also placed there. these are offered to the devils, represented in the form of bricks or mud images placed at the foot of the tree, and camphor is set alight. a sheep is then brought and slaughtered, and the devils are supposed to spring one after another from the tree into one of the bystanders. this man then becomes filled with the divine afflatus, works himself up into a kind of frenzy, becomes the mouthpiece of the spirits, pronounces their satisfaction or the reverse at the offerings, and gives utterance to cryptic phrases, which are held to foretell good or evil fortune to those in answer to whom they are made. when all the devils in turn have spoken and vanished, the man recovers his senses. the devils are worshipped in the same way in the house, except that no blood is shed." the following example of the conviction of a thief by a diviner is recorded by mrs murray-aynsley. [ ] "a friend's ayah had her blanket stolen. the native woman rejected the interference of the police, which her mistress proposed, but said she would send for one of her own diviners. he came, caused a fire to be lighted in an earthen vessel, then took a small basket-work grain-sifter used for winnowing rice. having repeated certain prayers or incantations, the diviner stuck a pair of scissors into the deepest part of this tray, and, having done this, required the two assistants he brought with him each to put a finger beneath the holes in the scissors, and then hold the sifter suspended over the fire. the servants of the house were then all required, each in turn, to take a small quantity of uncooked rice in their hands, and drop it into the flame, between the fork formed by the scissors, the diviner all the time repeating some formula. all went very smoothly till the woman-servant, whom my friend had all along suspected of the theft, performed this ceremony, on which the grain-sifter commenced turning round rapidly. the culprit was convicted, and confessed the theft." the following method of discovering theft by chewing rice is described by daniel johnson. [ ] "a brahmin is sent for, who writes down all the names of the people in the house, who are suspected. next day he consecrates a piece of ground by covering it with cow-dung and water, over which he says a long prayer. the people then assemble on this spot in a line facing the brahmin, who has with him some dry rice, of which he delivers to each person the weight of a four-cornered rupee, or that quantity weighed with the sacred stone called salagram, which is deposited in a leaf of the pippal or banyan tree. at the time of delivering it, the brahmin puts his right hand on each person's head, and repeats a short prayer; and, when finished, he directs them all to chew the rice, which at a given time must be produced on the leaves masticated. the person or persons, whose rice is not thoroughly masticated, or exhibits any blood on it, is considered guilty. the faith they all have of the power of the brahmin, and a guilty conscience operating at the same time, suppresses the natural flow of saliva to the mouth, without which the hard particles of the rice bruise and cut the gums, causing them to bleed, which they themselves are sensible of, and in most instances confess the crime." xi some agricultural ceremonies for the following note [ ] on agricultural ceremonies in malabar, i am indebted to mr c. karunakara menon, who writes as an eye-witness thereof. "vishu, the feast of the vernal equinox, is celebrated on the first of the malabar month medom, between the th and th of april. to the tamulians it is the new year's day, but to the people of malabar it marks the commencement of the new agricultural year. a malabar proverb says 'no hot weather after vishu.' the first thing seen on the morning of vishu day is considered as an omen for the whole year. every malayali takes care, therefore, to look at an auspicious object. arrangements are accordingly made to have a kani, which means a sight or spectacle (see p. ). after the first sight, the elders make presents of money to the junior members of the family and the servants. after the distribution of money, the most important function on vishu morning is the laying of the spade-furrow, as a sign that cultivation operations have commenced. a spade decorated with konna (cassia fistula) flowers, is brought, and a portion of the yard on the north side smeared with cow-dung, and painted with powdered rice-water. an offering is made on the spot to ganapathi (the elephant god), and a member of the family, turning to the east, cuts the earth three times. a ceremony on a grander scale is called the chal, which literally means a furrow, for an account of which we must begin with the visit of the astrologer (kanisan) on vishu eve. every desam (hamlet) in malabar has its own astrologer, who visits families under his jurisdiction on festive occasions (see p. ). accordingly, on the eve of the new agricultural year, every hindu home in the district is visited by the kanisans of the respective desams, who, for a modest present of rice, vegetables, and oils, make a forecast of the season's prospects, which is engrossed on a cadjan (palm leaf). this is called the vishu phalam, which is obtained by comparing the nativity with the equinox. special mention is made therein as to the probable rainfall from the position of the planets--highly prized information in a district where there are no irrigation works or large reservoirs for water. but the most important item in the forecast is the day and time at which the first ploughing is to take place. the chal is one of the most impressive and solemn of the malabar agricultural ceremonies, and, in its most orthodox form, is now prevalent only in the palghat taluk. at the auspicious hour shown in the forecast, the master of the house, the cultivation agent, and the cherumars, [ ] assemble in the barn. a portion of the yard in front of the building is painted with rice-water, and a lighted bell-metal lamp is placed near at hand with some paddy (unhusked rice) and rice, and several cups made of the leaves of the kanniram (strychnos nux-vomica)--as many cups as there are varieties of seed in the barn. then, placing implicit faith in his gods and ancestors, the master of the house opens the barn-door, followed by a cheruman with a new painted basket containing the leaf cups. the master then takes a handful of seed from a seed-basket, and fills one of the cups, and the cultivating agent, head cheruman, and others who are interested in a good harvest, fill the cups till the seeds are exhausted. the basket, with the cups, is next taken to the decorated portion of the yard. a new ploughshare is fastened to a new plough, and a pair of cattle are brought onto the scene. plough, cattle, and basket, are all painted with rice-water. a procession proceeds to the fields, on reaching which the head cheruman lays down the basket, and makes a mound of earth with the spade. to this a little manure is added, and the master throws a handful of seed into it. the cattle are then yoked, and one turn is ploughed by the head cheruman. inside this at least seven furrows are made, and the plough is dropped to the right. an offering is made to ganapathi, and the master throws some seed into the furrow. next the head cheruman calls out, 'may the gods on high, and the deceased ancestors, bless the seed which has been thrown broadcast, and the cattle which are let loose, the mother and children of the house, the master and the slaves. may they also vouchsafe to us a good crop, good sunshine, and a good harvest.' a cocoanut is then cut on the ploughshare, and from the cut portions several deductions are made. if the hinder portion is larger than the front one, it augurs an excellent harvest. if the nut is cut into two equal portions, the harvest will be moderate. if the cut passes through the eyes of the nut, or if no water is left in the cut portions, certain misfortune is foreboded. the cut fragments are then taken with a little water inside them, and a leaf of the tulsi plant [ ] (sacred basil, ocimum sanctum) dropped in. if the leaf turns to the right, a propitious harvest is assured, whereas, if it turns to the left, certain calamity will follow. this ceremonial concluded, there is much shouting, and the names of all the gods are called out in a confused prayer. the party then breaks up, and the unused seeds are divided among the workmen. the actual sowing of the seed takes place towards the middle of may. the local deity who is responsible for good crops is cherukunnath bhagavathi, who is also called annapurana, and is worshipped in the chirakkal taluk. before the seed is sown, a small quantity is set apart as an offering to the goddess annapurna iswari. by july the crops should be ready for harvesting, and the previous year's stock is running low. accordingly, several ceremonies are crowded into the month karkitakam (july-august). when the sun passes from the sign of gemini to cancer, i.e., on the last day of mithuna (june-july), a ceremony called the driving away of potti (evil spirit) is performed in the evening. the house is cleaned, and the rubbish collected in an old winnowing basket. a woman rubs oil on her head, and, taking the basket, goes three times round the house, while children run after her, calling out, 'potti, phoo' (run away, evil spirit). on the following morning the good spirit is invoked, and asked to bless every householder, and give a good harvest. before dawn a handful of veli, a wild yam (caladium nymphoeiflorum), and turmeric, together with ten herbs called dasapushpam (ten flowers), such as are worn in the head by nambutiri brahman ladies after the morning bath, are brought in. they are:-- thiruthali (ipomoea sepiaria). nilappana (curculigo orchioides). karuka (cynodon dactylon). cherupoola (Ærua lanata). muyalchevi (emelia sonchifolia). puvamkurunthala (vernonia cinerea). ulinna (cardiospermum halicacabum). mukutti (biophytum sensitivum). kannunni (eclipta alba). krishnakananthi (evolvulus alsinoides). "each of the above is believed to be the special favourite of some deity, e.g., nilappana of the god of riches, thiruthali of the wife of kama, the god of love, etc. they are stuck in the front eaves of every house with some cow-dung. then, before daybreak, sri bhagavathi is formally installed, and her symbolical presence is continued daily till the end of the month karkitakam. a plank, such as is used by malayalis when they sit at meals, is well washed, and smeared with ashes. on it are placed a mirror, a potful of ointment made of sandal, camphor, musk, and saffron (turmeric), a small round box containing red paint, a goblet full of water, and a grandham (sacred book made of cadjan), usually devi-mahathmyam, i.e., song in praise of bhagavathi. by its side the ten flowers are set. on the first day of karkitakam, in some places, an attempt is made to convert the malignant kali into a benificent deity. from calicut northward, this ceremonial is celebrated, for the most part by children, on a grand scale. from early morning they may be seen collecting ribs of plantain (banana) leaves, with which they make representations of a ladder, cattle-shed, plough, and yoke. representations of cattle are made from the leaves of the jak tree (artocarpus integrifolia). these are placed in an old winnowing basket. the materials for a feast are placed in a pot, and the toy agricultural articles and the pot are carried round each house three times, while the children call out 'kalia, kalia, monster, monster, receive our offering, and give us plenty of seed and wages, protect our cattle, and support our fences.' the various articles are then placed under a jak tree, on the eastern side of the house if possible. the next important ceremony is called the nira, or bringing in of the first-fruits. it is celebrated about the middle of karkitakam. the house is cleaned, and the doors and windows are cleansed with the rough leaves of a tree called parakam (ficus hispida), and decorated with white rice paint. the walls are whitewashed, and the yard is smeared with cow-dung. the ten flowers (dasapushpam) are brought to the gate of the house, together with leaves of the following:-- athi (ficus glomerata). ithi (ficus infectoria). arayal (ficus religiosa). peral (ficus bengalensis). illi (tender leaves of bamboo). nelli (phyllanthus emblica). jak (artocarpus integrifolia). mango (mangifera indica). "on the morning of the ceremony, the priest of the local temple comes out therefrom, preceded by a man blowing a conch (turbinella rapa) shell. [ ] this is a signal for the whole village, and every household sends out a male member, duly purified by a bath and copiously smeared with sacred ashes, to the fields, to gather some ears of paddy. sometimes the paddy is brought from the temple, instead of the field. it is not necessary to pluck the paddy from one's own fields. free permission is given to pluck it from any field in which it may be ripe. when the paddy is brought near the house, the above said leaves are taken out from the gate-house, where they had been kept over night, and the ears of paddy are laid thereon. the bearer is met at the gate by a woman of the house with a lighted lamp. the new paddy is then carried to the house in procession, those assembled crying out 'fill, fill; increase, increase; fill the house; fill the baskets; fill the stomachs of the children.' in a portion of the verandah, which is decorated with rice paint, a small plank, with a plantain leaf on it, is set. round this the man who bears the paddy goes three times, and, turning due east, places it on the leaf. on the right is set the lighted lamp. an offering of cocoanuts and sweets is made to ganapathi, and the leaves and ears of paddy are attached to various parts of the house, the agricultural implements, and even to trees. a sumptuous repast brings the ceremony to a close. at palghat, when the new paddy is carried in procession, the people say 'fill like the kottaram in kozhalmannam; fill like the expansive sands of the perar.' this kottaram is eight miles west of palghat. according to dr gundert, the word means a store-house, or place where temple affairs are managed. it is a ruined building with crumbling walls, lined inside with laterite, and outside with slabs of granite. it was the granary of the maruthur temple adjoining it, and, the story goes that the supply in this granary was inexhaustible. "the next ceremony of importance is called puthari (meal of new rice). in some places it takes place on nira day, but, as a rule, it is an independent festival, which takes place during the great national festival onam in august. when the new rice crop has been threshed, a day is fixed for the ceremony. those who have no land under cultivation simply add some grains of the new rice to their meal. an indispensable curry on this day is made of the leaves of cassia tora, peas, the fruit of puthari chundanga (swertia chirata), brinjals (solanum melongena), and green pumpkins. the first crop is now harvested. there are no special ceremonies connected with the cultivation of the second crop, except the one called chettotakam in the month of thulam (november), which is observed in the palghat taluk. it is an offering made to the gods, when the transplantation is completed; to wipe out the sin the labourers may have committed by unwittingly killing the insects and reptiles concealed in the earth. the god, whose protection is invoked on this occasion, is called muni. no barn is complete without its own muni, who is generally represented by a block of granite beneath a tree. he is the protector of cattle and field labourers, and arrack (liquor), toddy, and blood, form necessary ingredients for his worship. "in well-to-do families, a goat is sacrificed to him, but the poorer classes satisfy him with the blood of a fowl. the officiating priest is generally the cultivation agent, who is a nayar, or sometimes a cheruman. the goat or fowl is brought before the god, and a mixture of turmeric and chunam (lime) sprinkled over it. if the animal shakes, it is a sign that the god is satisfied. if it does not, the difficulty is got over by a very liberal interpretation of the smallest movement of the animal, and a further application of the mixture. the god who ensures sunshine and good weather is mullan. he is a rural deity, and is set up on the borders and ridges of the rice-fields. like muni, he is propitiated by the sacrifice of a fowl. the second crop is harvested in makaram (end of january), and a festival called ucharal is observed from the twenty-eighth to the thirtieth in honour of the menstruation of mother earth, which is believed to take place on those days, which are observed as days of abstinence from all work, except hunting. a complete holiday is given to the cherumans. the first day is called the closing of ucharal. towards evening some thorns, five or six broomsticks, and ashes, are taken to the room in which the grain is stored. the door is closed, and the thorns and sticks are placed against it, or fixed to it with cow-dung. the ashes are spread before it, and, during that and the following day, no one will open the door. on the second day, cessation from work is scrupulously observed. the house may not be cleaned, and the daily smearing of the floor with cow-dung is avoided. even gardens may not be watered. on the fourth day the ucharal is opened, and a basketful of dry leaves is taken to the fields, and burnt with a little manure. the ucharal days are the quarter days of malabar, and demands for surrender of property may be made only on the day following the festival, when all agricultural leases expire. by the burning of leaves and manure on his estate, the cultivator, it seems to me, proclaims that he remains in possession of the property. in support of this, we have the practice of a new lessee asking the lessor whether any other person has burnt dry leaves in the field. the ucharal festival is also held at cherupulcherri, and at kanayam near shoranur. large crowds assemble with representations of cattle in straw, which are taken in procession to the temple of bhagavathi with beating of drums and the shouting of the crowd." the fact that the cherumans, who are agrestic serfs, play a leading part in some of the festivals which have just been described, is significant. in an interesting note on the privileges of the servile classes, mr m. j. walhouse writes [ ] that "it is well known that the servile castes in southern india once held far higher positions, and were indeed masters of the land on the arrival of the brahmanical race. many curious vestiges of their ancient power still survive in the shape of certain privileges, which are jealously cherished, and, their origin being forgotten, are much misunderstood. these privileges are remarkable instances of survivals from an extinct state of society--shadows of long-departed supremacy, bearing witness to a period when the present haughty high-caste races were suppliants before the ancestors of degraded classes, whose touch is now regarded as pollution. in the great festival of siva at trivalur in tanjore, the headman of the pareyans is mounted on the elephant with the god, and carries his chauri (yak-tail fly fan). in madras, at the annual festival of the goddess of the black town (now george town [ ]), when a tali (marriage badge) is tied round the neck of the idol in the name of the entire community, a pareyan is chosen to represent the bridegroom. at melkote in mysore, the chief seat of the followers of ramanuja acharya, and at the brahman temple at belur, the holeyas or pareyans have the right of entering the temple on three days in the year, specially set apart for them." the privilege is said to have been conferred on the holeyas, in return for their helping ramanuja to recover the image of krishna, which was carried off to delhi by the muhammadans. paraiyans are allowed to take part in pulling the cars of the idols in the great festivals at conjeeveram, kumbakonam, and srivilliputtur. their touch is not reckoned to defile the ropes used, so that other hindus will pull with them. it was noted by mr f. h. ellis, who was collector of the madras district in , that "a custom prevails among the slave castes in tondeimandalam, especially in the neighbourhood of madras, which may be considered as a periodical assertion of independence at the close of the tamil month auni, with which the revenue year ends, and the cultivation of the ensuing year ought to commence. the whole of the slaves strike work, collect in bodies outside of the villages, and so remain until their masters, by promising to continue their privileges, by solicitations, presents of betel, and other gentle means, induce them to return. the slaves on these occasions, however well treated they may have been, complain of various grievances, real and imaginary, and threaten a general desertion. this threat, however, they never carry into execution, but, after the usual time, everything having been conducted according to mamul (custom), return quietly to their labours." coming to more recent times, it is recorded by mr walhouse [ ] that "at particular seasons there is a festival much resembling the classic saturnalia, in which, for the time, the relation of slaves and masters is inverted, and the former attack the latter with unstinted satire and abuse, and threaten to strike work unless confirmed in their privileges, and humbly solicit to return to labour." in villages in south canara there are certain rakshasas (demons), called kambla asura, who preside over the fields. to propitiate them, buffalo races, [ ] which are an exciting form of sport, are held, usually in october and november, before the second or sugge crop is sown. it is believed that, if the races are omitted, there will be a failure of the crop. the koragas (field labourers) sit up through the night before the kambla day, performing a ceremony called panikkuluni, or sitting under the dew. they sing songs to the accompaniment of a band about their devil nicha, and offer toddy and a rice pudding boiled in a large earthen pot, which is broken so that the pudding remains as a solid mass. this pudding is called kandel adde, or pot pudding. on the morning of the races, the holeyas (agrestic serfs) scatter manure over the field, in which the races are to take place, and plough it. on the following day, the seedlings are planted. to propitiate various demons, the days following the races are devoted to cock-fighting, in which hundreds of birds may take part. important agricultural ceremonies are performed by the badagas of the nilgiris, who carry out most of the cultivation on these hills, at the time of sowing and harvesting the crop. the seed-sowing ceremony takes place in march, and, in some places, a kurumba (jungle tribesman) plays an important part in it. on an auspicious day--a tuesday before the crescent moon--a priest of the devve temple sets out several hours before dawn with five or seven kinds of grain in a basket and a sickle, accompanied by a kurumba, and leading a pair of bullocks with a plough. on reaching the field selected, the priest pours the grain into the cloth of the kurumba, and, yoking the animals to the plough, makes three furrows in the soil. the kurumba, stopping the bullocks, kneels on the ground between the furrows, facing east. removing his turban, he places it on the ground, and, closing his ears with his palms, bawls out "dho, dho" thrice. he then rises, and scatters the grain thrice on the soil. the priest and kurumba then return to the village, and the former deposits what remains of the grain in the store-room. a new pot, full of water, is placed in the milk-house, and the priest dips his right hand therein, saying "nerathubitta" (it is full). this ceremony is an important one, as, until it has been performed, sowing may not commence. it is a day of feasting, and, in addition to rice, dolichos lablab is cooked. another agricultural ceremony of the badagas is called devva habba or tenai (setaria italica), and is usually celebrated in june or july, always on a monday. it is apparently performed in honour of the gods mahalingaswami and hiriya udaya, to whom a group of villages will have temples dedicated. the festival is celebrated at one place, whither the badagas from other villages proceed, to take part in it. about midday, some badagas and the temple priest go from the temple of hiriya udaya to that of mahalingaswami. the procession is usually headed by a kurumba, who scatters fragments of tud (meliosma pungens) bark and wood as he goes on his way. the priest takes with him the materials necessary for performing worship, and, after worshipping mahalingaswami, the party return to the hiriya udaya temple, where milk and cooked rice are offered to the various gods within the temple precincts. on the following day, all assemble at the temple, and a kurumba brings a few sheaves of setaria italica, and ties them to a stone set up at the main entrance. after this, worship is done, and the people offer cocoanuts to the god. later on, all the women of the madhave sept, who have given birth to a first-born child, come, dressed up in holiday attire, with their babies, to the temple. on this day they wear a special nose ornament called elemukkuththi, which is only worn on one other occasion, at the funeral of a husband. the women worship hiriya udaya, and the priest gives them a small quantity of rice on minige (argyreia) leaves. after eating this, they wash their hands with water given to them by the priest, and leave the temple in a line. as soon as the devve festival is concluded, the reaping of the crop commences, and a measure or two of grain gathered on the first day is set apart for the mahalingaswami temple. by the kotas (artisans and cultivators) of the nilgiris, a seed-sowing ceremony is celebrated in the month of kumbam (february-march) on a tuesday or friday. for eight days the officiating priest abstains from meat, and lives on vegetable diet, and may not communicate directly with his wife for fear of pollution, a boy acting as spokesman. on the sunday before the ceremony, a number of cows are penned in a kraal, and milked by the priest. the milk is preserved, and, if the omens are favourable, is said not to turn sour. if it does, this is attributed to the priest being under pollution from some cause or other. on the day of the ceremony, the priest bathes in a stream, and proceeds, accompanied by a boy, to a field or the forest. after worshipping the gods, he makes a small seed-pan in the ground, and sows therein a small quantity of ragi (eleusine coracana). meanwhile, the kotas of the village go to the temple, and clean it. thither the priest and the boy proceed, and the deity is worshipped with offerings of cocoanuts; betel, flowers, etc. sometimes a terkaran (priest) becomes inspired, and gives expression to oracular utterances. from the temple all go to the house of the priest, who gives them a small quantity of milk and food. three months later, on an auspicious day, the reaping of the crop is commenced with a very similar ceremonial. writing in , mr harkness states [ ] that, during the seed-sowing ceremony, "offerings are made at the temples, and, on the day of the full-moon, after the whole have partaken of a feast, the blacksmith, and the gold and silversmith, constructing separately a forge and furnace within the temple, each makes something in the way of his vocation, the blacksmith a chopper or axe, the silversmith a ring or other kind of ornament." in connection with the ceremonial observances of the koyis of the godavari district, the rev. j. cain writes [ ] that "at present the koyis around dummagudem have very few festivals, except one at the harvest of the zonna (sorghum vulgare). formerly they had one not only for every grain crop, but one when the ippa [ ] (bassia) flowers were ready to be gathered, another when the pumpkins were ripe, at the first tapping of the palm-tree for toddy, etc. now, at the time the zonna crop is ripe and ready to be cut, they take a fowl into the field, kill it, and sprinkle its blood on any ordinary stone put up for the occasion, after which they are at liberty to partake of the new crop. in many villages they would refuse to eat with any koi who has neglected this ceremony, to which they give the name kottalu, which word is evidently derived from the telugu word kotta (new). rice-straw cords are hung on trees, to show that the feast has been observed. [in some places, mr hemingway tells me, the victim is a sheep, and the first-fruits are offered to the local gods and the ancestors.] another singular feast occurs soon after the cholam (zonna) crop has been harvested. early on the morning of that day, all the men of each village have to turn out into the forest to hunt, and woe betide the unlucky individual who does not bring home some game, be it only a bird or a mouse. all the women rush after him with cow-dung, mud, or dirt, and pelt him out of their village, and he does not appear again in that village till next morning. the hunter who has been most successful then parades the village with his game, and receives presents of paddy (rice) from every house. mr vanstavern, whilst boring for coal at beddanolu, was visited by all the koi women of the village, dressed up in their lord's clothes, and they told him that they had that morning driven their husbands to the forest, to bring home game of some kind or other." mr n. e. marjoribanks once witnessed a grossly indecent pantomime, held in connection with this festival, which is called bhudevi panduga, or festival of the earth goddess. the performers were women, of whom the drummers and sword-bearers were dressed up as men. in a note on this festival, mr f. r. hemingway writes that "when the samalu crop is ripe, the kois summon the pujari on a previously appointed day, and collect from every house in the village a fowl and a handful of grain. the pujari has to fast all that night, and bathe early the next morning. after bathing, he kills the fowls gathered the previous evening in the names of the favourite gods, and fastens an ear of samalu to each house, and then a feast follows. in the evening they cook some of the new grain, and kill fresh fowls, which have not to be curried but roasted, and the heart, liver, and lights of which are set apart as the especial food of their ancestral spirits, and eaten by every member of each household in their name. the bean feast is an important one, as, until it is held, no one is allowed to gather any beans. on the second day before the feast, the village pujari must eat only bread. the day before, he must fast for the whole twenty-four hours, and, on the day of the feast, he must eat only rice cooked in milk, with the bird offered in sacrifice. all the men of the village accompany the pujari to a neighbouring tree, which must be a terminalia tomentosa, and set up a stone, which they thus dedicate to the goddess kodalamma. every one is bound to bring for the pujari a good hen and a seer of rice, and for himself a cock and half a seer of rice. the pujari also demands from them two annas as his sacrificing fee." seed-drills used by agriculturists in the bellary district are ornamented with carved representations of the sacred bull nandi, the monkey-god hanuman, and the lingam, and decorated with margosa (melia azadirachta) leaves, to bring good luck. xii rain-making ceremonies among the kalyana singapu kondhs of vizagapatam, a rain-making ceremony called barmarakshasi is performed, which consists in making life-size mud images of women seated on the ground, holding grindstones between their knees, and offering sacrifices to them. [ ] in times of drought, the koyis of the godavari district hold a festival to bhima, one of the pandava brothers from whom they claim descent, and, when rain falls, sacrifice a cow or a pig to him. it is said [ ] to be considered very efficacious if the brahmans take in procession round the village an image of varuna (the god of rain) made of mud from the bed of a river or tank. another method is to pour a thousand pots of water over the lingam in the siva temple. malas (telugu pariahs) tie a live frog to a mortar, and put on the top thereof a mud figure representing the deity gontiyalamma. they then take these objects in procession, singing "mother frog, playing in water, pour rain by potsfull." the villagers of other castes then come and pour water over the malas. the rev. s. nicholson informs me that, to produce rain in the telugu country, two boys capture a frog, and put it into a basket with some nim (margosa, melia azadirachta) leaves. they tie the basket to the middle of a stick, which they support on their shoulders. in this manner, they make a circuit of the village, visiting every house, singing the praises of the god of rain. the greater the noise the captive animal makes, the better the omen, and the more gain for the boys, for at every house they receive something in recognition of their endeavours to bring rain upon the village fields. "in the bellary district when the rain fails, the kapu (telugu cultivator) females catch a frog, and tie it alive to a new winnowing fan made of bamboo. on this fan, leaving the frog visible, they spread a few margosa leaves, and go singing from door to door, 'lady frog must have her bath; oh! rain god, give at least a little water for her.' this means that the drought has reached such a stage that there is not even a drop of water for the frogs. when the kapu female sings this song, the woman of the house brings a little water in a vessel, pours it over the frog, which is left on the fan outside the door sill, and gives some alms. she is satisfied that such an action will bring down rain in torrents. on the first full-moon day in the month of bhadrapada (september), the agricultural population in the bellary district celebrate a festival called jokumara, to appease the rain-god. the barike women (said to belong to the gaurimakkalu section of the kabbera caste) go round the village in which they live, with a basket on their heads containing margosa leaves, flowers of various kinds, and sacred ashes. they beg for alms, especially from the cultivating classes, and, in return for the alms bestowed (usually grain or food), they give some of the leaves, flowers, and ashes. the cultivators take these to their fields, prepare cholam (sorghum) kanji or gruel, mix them with it, and sprinkle the kanji over their fields. after this the cultivator proceeds to the potter's kiln in the village, and fetches ashes from it, with which he makes the figure of a human being. this figure is placed in a field, and called jokumara or rain-god, and is supposed to have the power of bringing down the rain in due season. a second kind of jokumara worship is called muddam, or the outlining of rude representations of human figures with powdered charcoal. these are made in the early morning, before the bustle of the day commences, on the ground at cross-roads, and along thoroughfares. the barikes, who draw these figures, are paid a small remuneration in money or kind. the figures represent jokumara, who will bring down rain, when insulted by people treading on him. yet another kind of jokumara worship prevails in the bellary district. when rain fails, the kapu females model a small figure of a naked human being, which they place in a miniature palanquin, and go from door to door, singing indecent songs, and collecting alms. they continue this procession for three or four days, and then abandon the figure in a field adjacent to the village. the malas take possession of the abandoned jokumara, and, in their turn, go about singing indecent songs, and collecting alms for three or four days, and then throw the figure away in some jungle. this form of jokumara worship is also believed to bring down plenty of rain. in the bellary district, the agriculturists have a curious superstition about prophesying the state of the coming season. the village of mailar contains a siva temple, which is famous throughout the district for an annual festival held there in the month of february. this festival has now dwindled into more or less a cattle fair. but the fame of the temple continues as regards the karanika, which is a cryptic sentence uttered by the priest, containing a prophecy of the prospects of the agricultural season. the pujari (priest) of the temple is a kuruba (cultivating caste). the feast at the temple lasts for ten days. on the last day, the god siva is represented as returning victorious from the battlefield, after having slain the demon malla (mallasura) with a huge bow. he is met half-way from the field of battle by the goddess. the wooden bow is placed on end before the god. the kuruba priest climbs up it, as it is held by two assistants, and then gets on their shoulders. in this posture he stands rapt in silence for a few minutes, looking in several directions. he then begins to quake and quiver from head to foot. this is the sign of the spirit of the god siva possessing him. a solemn silence holds the assembly, for the time of the karanika has arrived. the shivering kuruba utters a cryptic sentence, such as 'thunder struck the sky.' this is at once copied down, and interpreted as a prophecy that there will be much rain in the year to come." [ ] it is said that, in the year before the mutiny, the prophecy was "they have risen against the white-ants." the villagers at kanuparti in the guntur district of the telugu country objected, in , to the removal of certain figures of the sacred bull nandi and lingams, which were scattered about the fields, on the ground that the rainfall would cease, if these sacred objects were taken away. to bring down rain, brahmans, and those non-brahmans who copy their ceremonial rites, have their varuna japam, or prayers to varuna, the rain-god. some of the lower classes, instead of addressing their prayers to varuna, try to induce a spirit or devata named kodumpavi (wicked one) to send her paramour sukra to the affected area. the belief seems to be that sukra goes away to his concubinage for about six months, and, if he does not then return, drought ensues. the ceremony consists in making a huge figure of kodumpavi in clay, which is placed on a cart, and dragged through the streets for seven to ten days. on the last day, the final death ceremonies of the figure are celebrated. it is disfigured, especially in those parts which are usually concealed. vettiyans (paraiyan grave-diggers), who have been shaved, accompany the figure, and perform the funeral ceremonies. this procedure is believed to put kodumpavi to shame, and to get her to induce sukra to return, and stay the drought. according to mr w. francis, [ ] the figure, which is made of clay or straw, is dragged feet first through the village by the paraiyans, who accompany it, wailing as though they were at a funeral, and beating drums in funeral time. i am informed by mr f. r. hemingway that, when rain is wanted in the trichinopoly district, an effigy called koman (the king) is dragged round the streets, and its funeral performed with great attention to details. or an effigy of kodumpavi is treated with contumely. in some places, the women collect kanji (rice gruel) from door to door, and drink it, or throw it away on a tank bund (embankment), wailing the while as they do at funerals. people of the higher castes repeat prayers to varuna, and read portions of the virata parvam in the mahabharata, in the hope that the land will be as fertile as the country of the virats, where the pandavas lived. when the tanks and rivers threaten to breach their banks, men stand naked on the bund, and beat drums; and, if too much rain falls, naked men point firebrands at the sky. their nudity is supposed to shock the powers that bring the rain, and arrest their further progress. according to mr francis, [ ] when too much rain falls, the way to stop it is to send the eldest son to stand in it stark naked, with a torch in his hand. a native of coimbatore wrote a few years ago that we have done all things possible to please the gods. we spent about two hundred rupees in performing varuna japam on a grand scale in a strictly orthodox fashion. for a few days there were cold winds, and some lightning. but, alas, the japam was over, and with that disappeared all signs of getting any showers in the near future. it is noted by haddon [ ] that, in the torres straits, as elsewhere, the impossible is never attempted, and a rain charm would not be made when there was no expectation of rain coming, or during the wrong season. there is, in some parts of the country, a belief that, if lepers are buried when they die, rain will not visit the locality where their corpses have been deposited. so they disinter the bodies, and throw the remains thereof into the river, or burn them. some years ago, a man who was supposed to be a leper died, and was buried. his skeleton was disinterred, put into a basket, and hung to a tree with a garland of flowers round its neck. the superintendent of police, coming across it, ordered it to be disposed of. the following quaint superstitions relating to the origin of rain are recorded by mr gopal panikkar. [ ] "in the regions above the earth, there are supposed to exist large monsters called kalameghathanmar, to whom is assigned the responsibility of supplying the earth with water. these monsters are under the direction and control of indra, [ ] and are possessed of enormous physical strength. they have two huge horns projecting upwards from the sides of the crown of the head, large flashing eyes, and other remarkable features. all the summer they are engaged in drawing up water from the earth through their mouths, which they spit out to produce rain in the rainy season. a still ruder imagination ascribes rain to the periodical discharge of urine by these monsters. hence, in some quarters, there exists a peculiar aversion to the use of rain-water for human consumption." notes [ ] "gazetteer of the nilgiris," , i. . [ ] bishop whitehead, madras museum bull., , no. , v. . [ ] madras museum bull., , no. , v. - . [ ] malabar, , i. - . [ ] used as a fly-flapper (chamara). [ ] "malabar and its folk," madras, nd edition, - . [ ] n. sunkuni wariar, "ind. ant.," , xxi. . [ ] k. srikantaliar, "ind. ant.," , xxi. . [ ] m. n. venkataswami, "ind. ant.," , xxxiv. . [ ] "gazetteer of the godavari district," , i. . [ ] "note on the koravas," . [ ] m. j. walhouse, "ind. ant.," , x. . [ ] "manual of the cuddapah district," , . [ ] "gazetteer of the godavari district," , i. . [ ] m. j. walhouse, "ind. ant.," , v. . [ ] india, trübner, oriental series, , i. . [ ] rev. s. mateer, "native life in travancore," , - . [ ] m. j. walhouse, journ. anthrop. inst., , iv. . [ ] voyage to the east indies, and . [ ] rev. j. a. sharrock, "south indian missions," , . [ ] see emma rosenbusch (mrs clough), "while sewing sandals, or tales of a telugu pariah tribe." [ ] l. k. anantha krishna iyer, "the cochin tribes and castes," , i. . [ ] "ind. ant.," , ii. . [ ] f. fawcett, "note on the koravas," . [ ] s. p. rice, "occasional essays on native south indian life," , - . [ ] jeypore, breklum, . [ ] f. fawcett, "note on the koravas," . [ ] fire-walking, see thurston, "ethnographic notes in southern india," , - . [ ] udaya is one of the divisions of the badagas, which ranks as superior to the other divisions. [ ] koyis, see cain, madras christian college magazine (old series), v. - , and vi. - ; also "ind. ant.," v., , and viii., . [ ] "gazetteer of the south arcot district," , i. . [ ] madras museum bull., , no. , v. . [ ] "manual of the cuddapah district," , . [ ] the holeyas were formerly agrestic serfs. [ ] "ind. ant.," , ii. . [ ] earth-eating (geophagy), see my "ethnographic notes in southern india," , - . [ ] letters from malabar, translation, madras, . [ ] f. fawcett, "note on the koravas," . [ ] "manual of the cuddapah district," , . [ ] ibid., . [ ] m. paupa rao naidu, "the criminal tribes of india," madras, , no. . [ ] t. m. natesa sastri, calcutta review, , cxxi. . [ ] "notes on the criminal classes of the madras presidency," , . [ ] "malabar and its folk," madras, nd. ed., - . [ ] letters from madras, . [ ] "hindu feasts, fasts, and ceremonies," madras, , - . [ ] madras weekly mail, th october, . [ ] rev. e. w. thompson, "the last siege of seringapatam," . [ ] "an indian olio," . [ ] "manual of the north arcot district" , i. - . [ ] s. m. natesa sastri, "ind. ant.," , xviii. . [ ] rev. j. cain, "ind. ant.," , iv. . [ ] f. fawcett, "note on the koravas," . [ ] "ind. ant.," , v. . [ ] "manual of the ganjam district," , - . [ ] "gazetteer of the bellary district," , i. . [ ] madras agricult. bull., , ii. no. . [ ] madras dioc. mag., . [ ] madras weekly mail, th october . [ ] loc. cit. [ ] madras museum bull., , v., no. , . [ ] many of the bird superstitions here recorded were published in an article in the madras mail. [ ] "manual of the cuddapah district," , . [ ] "gazetteer of the bellary district," , i. . [ ] "manual of the cuddapah district," , . [ ] see thurston, "ethnographic notes in southern india," , - . [ ] j. s. f. mackenzie, "ind. ant.," , ii., . [ ] rev. f. dahmen, "anthropos," , iii. . [ ] rev. m. phillips, "evolution of hinduism," , . [ ] "manual of the cuddapah district," , . [ ] "manual of the cuddapah district," , . [ ] "gazetteer of the tanjore district," , i. . [ ] "manual of the kurnool district," , . [ ] journ. bombay nat. hist. soc., , xiv., no. , - . [ ] "gazetteer of the nilgiris," , i. . [ ] journ. anthrop. soc., bombay, i. - . [ ] "report on the sea fisheries of india and burma," , lxxvi. [ ] "manual of the kurnool district," , . [ ] m. j. walhouse, "ind. ant.," , v. . [ ] rev. f. dahmen, "anthropos," , iii. . [ ] "ind. ant.," , v. . [ ] h. j. stokes, "ind. ant.," , iii. . [ ] j. s. chandler, calcutta review, july, , cxvii. . [ ] "totemism," , . [ ] m. j. walhouse, journal anthrop. inst., , iv. . [ ] h. d. taylor, "madras census report," . [ ] madras mail, th january, . [ ] l. k. anantha krishna iyer, "cochin tribes and castes," , i. . [ ] madras mail, th january, . [ ] s. p. rice, "occasional essays on native south indian life," , . [ ] journ. roy. asiat. soc., , xvi. . [ ] report, govt. botanical gardens, nilgiris, . [ ] "gazetteer of malabar," , i. . [ ] letters from malabar, translation, madras, . [ ] , iii. . [ ] "malabar and its folk," madras, nd ed., . [ ] c. karunakara menon, calcutta review, july, . [ ] c. karunakara menon, calcutta review, july, . [ ] madras mail, nd july, . [ ] vide, yule and burnell, "hobson-jobson," ed. , - . [ ] asiatic journal, ii. . [ ] bishop whitehead, madras diocesan magazine, july, . [ ] rev. f. dahmen, "anthropos," , iii. . [ ] madras mail, th january, . [ ] madras mail, th january, . [ ] m. upendra pai, madras christian coll. mag., ., xiii., no. , . [ ] mem. asiat. soc., bengal, , i., no. . [ ] t. k. gopal panikkar, "madras and its folk," madras, nd ed., - . [ ] "manual of the cuddapah district," , - . [ ] madras mail, th january, . [ ] "gazetteer of the vizagapatam district," , i. . [ ] "manual of the south canara district," , ii. . [ ] "mysore census report," , part i. . [ ] s. k. sundara charlu, indian review, , vi., no. , . [ ] "gazetteer of the trichinopoly district," , i. . [ ] "manual of the cuddapah district," , . [ ] "plagues and pleasures of life in bengal," , - . [ ] madras mail, th january, . [ ] "malayalam dictionary," , . [ ] kerala chintamani. [ ] nature, th october, . [ ] grant duff, "notes from an indian diary, - ." [ ] l. k. anantha krishna iyer, "the cochin tribes and castes," , i. . [ ] f. fawcett, madras museum bull., , iii., no , . [ ] malabar, , i. . [ ] d'alviella, "the migration of symbols," , introduction; and times (london), rd september, . [ ] madras museum bull., , v., no. , - . [ ] madras mail, th january, . [ ] leviticus, viii. . [ ] the nayadis are a polluting class, whose approach within feet is said to contaminate a brahman. [ ] l. k. anantha krishna iyer, "the cochin tribes and castes," , i. - . [ ] m. j. walhouse, journ. anthrop. inst., , xix. . [ ] "gazetteer of the tanjore district," , i. . [ ] "note on the koravas," . [ ] madras standard, nd june, . [ ] a tarawad means a family, consisting of all the descendants in the female line of one common female ancestor. [ ] the senior male in a tarawad or tarwad. [ ] see calcutta review, july, , cxiii. - . [ ] laterite is a reddish geological formation, found all over southern india. [ ] madras christian coll. mag., , xiii., no. , - . [ ] the pipal or aswatha (ficus religiosa). many villages have such a tree with a platform erected round it, on which are carved figures of the elephant god ganesa, and cobras. village panchayats (councils) are often held on this platform. [ ] indian patriot, th january, . [ ] elayads, ilayatus, or nambiyatiris, are priests at most of the snake groves on the west coast. [ ] calcutta review, july, , cxiii. . [ ] "malabar and its folk," madras, nd ed., . [ ] madras standard, nd june, . [ ] "gazetteer of malabar," , i. . [ ] see "men and women of india," february, . [ ] "the cochin tribes and castes," , i. - . [ ] "malabar and its folk," madras, nd ed., - . [ ] vol. i. . [ ] "gazetteer of the south arcot district," , i. . [ ] "gazetteer of the tanjore district," , i. . [ ] sesha or adisesha is the serpent, on which vishnu is often represented as reclining. [ ] "ind. ant.," , v. . [ ] see the skanda purana. [ ] other colossal statues of gummatta are at karkal and venur or yenur in south canara. [ ] the feast of lights (dipa, lights, avali, a row). [ ] see bishop whitehead, "the village deities of southern india," madras museum bull., , v. no. . [ ] ibid., , iii. no. , - . [ ] "gazetteer of the tanjore district," , i. . [ ] madras dioc. mag., november, . [ ] see fawcett, note on the mouth-lock vow, journ. anthrop. soc., bombay, i. - . [ ] "gazetteer of the trichinopoly district," , i. . [ ] scottish standard bearer, november . [ ] the patnulkarans claim to be saurashtra brahmans. [ ] "gazetteer of the tanjore district," , i. . [ ] "gazetteer of the madura district," i. . [ ] "primitive tribes of the nilagiris," , . [ ] sudra is the fourth traditional caste of manu. [ ] "manual of the north arcot district," , i. . [ ] mysore census report, , part i. . [ ] basavi, see article "deva-dasi" in my "castes and tribes of southern india," , ii. - . [ ] "manual of the cuddapah district", , . [ ] madras museum bull., , v. no. , . [ ] "gazetteer of the trichinopoly district," , i. . [ ] jeypore, breklum, . [ ] "gazetteer of the tanjore district," , . . [ ] "gazetteer of the madura district," , i. - . [ ] ibid., . [ ] madras museum bull., , v., no. , - . [ ] madras museum bull., , v., no. , . [ ] "ind. ant.," , x. . [ ] the pallis claim to be descendants of the fire race (agnikula) of the kshatriyas, and that, as they and the pandava brothers were born of fire, they are related. [ ] "gazetteer of the south arcot district," , i. - . [ ] "gazetteer of the madura district," , i. . [ ] "narrative of little's detachment," , - . [ ] lambadis or brinjaris, who formerly acted as carriers of supplies and baggage in times of war in the deccan. [ ] journ. anthrop. soc., bombay, i. - . [ ] "ind. ant.," , viii. . [ ] ibid., , ix. . [ ] journ. anthrop. soc., bombay, ii. . [ ] "gazetteer of the madura district," , i. . [ ] "gazetteer of the south arcot district," , i. . [ ] "hindu manners, customs, and ceremonies" translation by h. k. beauchamp, , ii. . [ ] "ind. ant.," , ix. . [ ] "mysore," , ii. . [ ] madras museum bull., , iii., no. , . [ ] the making of a shrine, calcutta review, , cviii. - . [ ] bhutha, or demon worship, prevails in south canara, where the villages have their bhutha sthanam or demon shrine. [ ] "cochin census report," , part i. . [ ] "gazetteer of the vizagapatam district," , i. . [ ] "gazetteer of the anantapur district," , i. . [ ] "native life in travancore," . [ ] "gazetteer of the madura district," , i. . [ ] "mediæval sinhalese art," , - . [ ] philalethes, "history of ceylon," , . [ ] m. bapu rao, madras christian coll. mag., april , xi. [ ] "gazetteer of the madura district," , i. . [ ] "gazetteer of the south arcot district," , i. . [ ] f. fawcett, man, , i., no. , p. . [ ] "madras census report," , part i. . [ ] "malabar and its folk," madras, nd ed., . [ ] thula (scales), purusha (man), danam (gift). [ ] see shungoony menon, "history of travancore," , - . [ ] madras diocesan record, october, . [ ] "christianity and caste," . [ ] rev. j. cain, madras christian coll. mag., - , v. . [ ] in southern india, turmeric (curcuma) is commonly called saffron (crocus). [ ] "gazetteer of the vizagapatam district," , i. . [ ] madras museum bull., , v., no. , . [ ] ibid., . [ ] "an indian olio," - . [ ] "gazetteer of the nilgiris," , i. . [ ] "the tinnevelly shanars," . [ ] madras dioc. mag., march, . [ ] rev. j. cain, "ind. ant.," , viii. . [ ] "hindu manners, customs, and ceremonies,' translation by h. k. beauchamp, , i. . [ ] "gazetteer of the anantapur district," , i. . [ ] "gazetteer of the south arcot district," , i. . [ ] "gazetteer of the south arcot district," , i. - . [ ] "goa and the blue mountains," , . [ ] "gazetteer of the bellary district," , i. . [ ] f. fawcett, madras museum bull., , iii., no. , . [ ] "malabar," , i. . [ ] "malabar," , i. . [ ] m. j. walhouse, "ind. ant.," , v. . [ ] f. fawcett, journ. anthrop. soc., bombay, i. . [ ] "manual of the kurnool district," , . [ ] tennent, "ceylon," , i. . [ ] "manual of the cuddapah district," , . [ ] madras mail, th january, . [ ] madras museum bull., , iii., no. , . [ ] madras museum bull., , iii., no. , - . [ ] madras dioc. mag., july, . [ ] rev. a. c. clayton, madras museum bull., , v., no. , . [ ] journ. anthrop. inst., , xix., . [ ] madras christian coll. mag., january, , vi. no. . [ ] rev. a. c. clayton, madras museum bull., , v., no. , . [ ] "the book of ser marco polo, the venetian," translation, rd ed., , ii. . [ ] the pearl fisheries are conducted from tuticorin in the tinnevelly district. [ ] "ceylon," , ii. - . [ ] "the golden bough," , ii. et seq. bibliography of human sacrifice among the kondhs, see thurston, "castes and tribes of southern india," , iii. - . [ ] "selections from the records of the government of india," no. v., suppression of human sacrifice and infanticide, . the subject of meriah sacrifice is also dealt with by f. e. penny, in her novel entitled "sacrifice," . [ ] "personal narrative of service among the wild tribes of khondistan," . [ ] "the people of india," , . [ ] "gazetteer of the vizagapatam district," , i. . [ ] "gazetteer of the vizagapatam district," , i. - . [ ] madras weekly mail, th june, . [ ] "ind. ant.," , v. . [ ] madras christian coll. mag., - , v. . [ ] "gazetteer of the vizagapatam district," , i. . [ ] "hindu manners, customs, and ceremonies," translation by h. k. beauchamp, , i. - . [ ] "ind. ant.," , viii. . [ ] infanticide, see thurston, "ethnographic notes in southern india," , - . [ ] marshall, "a phrenologist amongst the todas," , . [ ] ellis, "history of madagascar." [ ] "the village deities of southern india," madras museum bull., , v. , , . [ ] "gazetteer of malabar," , i. . [ ] "mysore and coorg manual," , iii. . [ ] the kaniyans of the west coast are exorcisers. [ ] "mysore and coorg manual," , iii. - . [ ] "ind. ant.," , x. . [ ] ibid., , v. . [ ] "ind. ant.," , vii. . [ ] "gazetteer of the anantapur district," , i. . [ ] "manual of the cuddapah district," , . [ ] lieutenant-general f. f. burton, "an indian olio," . [ ] "occasional essays on native south indian life," , - . [ ] "manual of medical jurisprudence in india," . [ ] indian review, may, . [ ] "the cochin tribes and castes," madras, , i. - . [ ] "the cochin tribes and castes," madras, i. - . [ ] "malabar," , i. . [ ] "description of a singular aboriginal race inhabiting the summit of the neilgherry hills," , - . [ ] "madras police administration report," . [ ] "manual of the niligiri district," , . [ ] "madras police administration report," . [ ] ibid., - . [ ] a. c. haddon, "magic and fetishism" (religions, ancient and modern), , . [ ] see the articles devoted to these castes in my "castes and tribes of southern india," . [ ] b. govinda nambiar, indian review, may, . [ ] m. j. walhouse, "ind. ant.," , v. . [ ] "report of the chemical examiner, madras," , . [ ] journ. and proc. asiat. soc., bengal, , i. no. . [ ] rev. a. c. clayton, madras museum bull., , v., no. , . [ ] cf. odi cult, - . [ ] "ind. ant.," , v. . [ ] gloyer, jeypore, breklum, . [ ] "gazetteer of the bellary district," , i. . [ ] "gazetteer of the south arcot district," , i. . [ ] "gazetteer of the tanjore district," , i. . [ ] journ. anthrop. soc., bombay, ii. , - . [ ] indian review, may, . [ ] journ. royal asiat. soc., , xvi. - . [ ] for a detailed account of demonolatry among the shanans, i would refer the reader to the rev. r. (afterwards bishop) caldwell's now scarce "tinnevelly shanans," . [ ] madras museum bull., , iii., no. , . [ ] madras mail, th november, . [ ] an example of so-called homoeopathic magic. see haddon, "magic and fetishism" (religions ancient and modern), , - . [ ] "ind. ant.," , v. . [ ] laccadiveans come to the malabar coast in sailing-boats. [ ] nature, th october, . [ ] madras mail, th november, . [ ] f. fawcett, madras museum bull., , iii., no. , . [ ] madras mail, th november, . [ ] in like manner, the chief mourner at the funeral among many castes, after breaking a water-pot at the graveside, retires without looking back. [ ] f. fawcett, madras museum bull., , iii., no. , . [ ] "gazetteer of the madura district," , i. . [ ] f. fawcett, journ. anthrop. soc., bombay, i. - . [ ] "gazetteer of the madura district," , i. . [ ] "gazetteer of the vizagapatam district," , i. . [ ] l. k. anantha krishna iyer, "the cochin tribes and castes," , i. . [ ] f. fawcett, madras museum bull., , iii., no. , . [ ] m. j. walhouse, "ind. ant." , x. . [ ] "occasional essays on native south indian life," , - . [ ] "gazetteer of the vizagapatam district," , i. . [ ] h. j. stokes, "ind. ant.," , v. - . [ ] l. k. anantha krishna iyer, "the cochin tribes and castes," , i. . [ ] "gazetteer of the vizagapatam district," , i. . [ ] "ind. ant.," , v. . [ ] trial by ordeal, see my "ethnographic notes in southern india," , - . [ ] "gazetteer of the godavari district," , i. . [ ] madras christ. coll. mag., - , v. . [ ] at times of census, the konda doras have returned themselves as pandava kulam, or pandava caste. [ ] "manual of the cuddapah district," , - . [ ] some pandarams are managers of siva temples. [ ] "a madura missionary, john eddy chandler: a sketch of his life," boston. [ ] a. c. haddon, "magic and fetishism" (religions ancient and modern), , . [ ] for much of the note on kaniyans i am indebted to mr n. subramani iyer. [ ] "description of the coasts of east africa and malabar," translation, hakluyt society, , . [ ] "journey through mysore canara, and malabar," , ii. . [ ] "malabar," , i. - . [ ] the kaniyan, when wanted in his professional capacity, presents himself with triple ash marks of siva on his chest, arms, and forehead. [ ] "gazetteer of malabar," , i. . [ ] c. gopalan nair, malabar series, "wynad, its people and traditions," , - . [ ] madras museum bull., , iii., no. , - . [ ] "birds of india," , i. - . [ ] the dusserah or dasara is also known as sarasvati puja or ayudha puja (worship of weapons or tools). see p. . [ ] madras weekly mail, th august, . [ ] "history of railway thieves," . [ ] the koravas are professional burglars. [ ] "madras census report," , part i. . [ ] "gazetteer of the tanjore district," , i. . [ ] "our tour in southern india," , - . [ ] "sketches of field sports followed by the natives of india," . [ ] the note was originally published in madras museum bull., , v., no. , - . [ ] the cherumars are field labourers, who were formerly agrestic slaves, and, like other servile classes, possess special privileges on special occasions. [ ] the tulsi plant is the most sacred plant of the hindus, by whom it is grown in pots, or in brick or earthen pillars (brindavanam) hollowed out at the top, in which earth is deposited. it is watered and worshipped daily. [ ] the sacred conch or chank shell is used as a musical instrument in processions, and during religious services at hindu temples. [ ] "ind. ant," , iii. . [ ] the name black town was changed to george town, to commemorate the visit of h.r.h. the prince of wales to madras in . [ ] journ. anthrop. inst., , iv. . [ ] buffalo races, see my "castes and tribes of southern india," , i. - . [ ] "a singular aboriginal race of the nilagiris," , . [ ] "ind. ant." , viii. . [ ] liquor is distilled from ippa flowers. [ ] "gazetteer of the vizagapatam district," , i. . [ ] "gazetteer of the godavari district," , i. . [ ] madras mail, th november, . [ ] "gazetteer of the south arcot district," , i. . [ ] ibid. [ ] "magic and fetishism" (religions ancient and modern), , . [ ] "malabar and its folk," madras, nd ed., - . [ ] indra presides over the seasons and crops, and is therefore worshipped at times of sowing and reaping.